My Wedding

There are plenty of folks that are way wiser than me who are making thoughtful arguments about why SOPA and PIPA are bad, and I tend to agree.  If one is spending so much time being worried about whether something on their site is pirated, it will allocate precious energy away from creativity and innovation.  I’d rather not have Wikipedia wasting time on that – we see Jimmy Wales’ face more often than we’d like to now, imagine if he had to hire a bunch more staff just to check links?

I’m a person who came into his internet maturity just as Napster was in its heyday.  As such, my definitions of moral piracy are probably further down the continuum than a lot of folks, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see a value in correcting a distribution system that also stifles creativity – at least the way it’s done now.  Open sourcing, pay-what-you-want music distribution, and fee-based services like Netflix and Spotify have taken steps to move with culture and the shift in technology.  It is, in fact, possible to curtail piracy, but I think we need to recognize that it is as much a part of our lives as dubbing cassettes was 20 years ago.

As it’s been with the Occupy movement and other groans of “the-world-is-not-how-it-should-be” right now, I think that the business leaders who are trying to make decisions in the interest of their shareholders need to see what kind of economic value judgements have changed in the last generation.  If someone doesn’t want to wait the 56 days required for a new DVD, it’s easier to download it from elsewhere.  It’s too easy now.  The alternative for Warner Bros and other is either to bend to the will of the consumer, or lose money.  I believe that as time goes along, this will become a greater reality.

In the end, I think about my grandfather with his laptop at home.  I’ve taught him at least a half a dozen times to check his email, to learn how to type a letter, and to conduct simple web searches.  I would not expect him to provide thoughtful guidance on technological policy in the US.  And yet, we have individuals who are not too far off my grandfather’s age and their bedfellows determining how the internet should be policed.  It doesn’t make sense.  We do need a change, it’s true; we need the experts in the field to provide us with a thoughtful alternative.

SOPA and PIPA are garbage and whimper in Sweedish, respectively.

Right on the verge of starting a brief but history-bending career as the rabbi of all rabbis, did he question what he was going to do?  Did he keep telling himself that eventually he was going to go down and visit cousin John and get baptized?

Did he second guess getting in the carpentry trades?  His dad’s business paid the bills, sure, but was it fulfilling?  Was it something to wake him up before the sunrise with excitement, or just a job?

Were mom and dad worried that he wasn’t going to settle down, take a wife, and continue the proud lineage of the greatest kings if Israel?  They remembered the visions, but they were so young back then.  Lots of travel back then, it could have been exhaustion or bad food.

He’s got to feel like he’s been made for something more than what he’s doing now.  He heard the stories.  He knows it’s only a matter of time; just keep studying and learning, eventually it’ll happen.  It’ll all make sense.

And when it does, the world will respond in kind with exponential parts adoration and hatred.  Reviled by his peers, but celebrated by raca – the worthless.

But for now, he’s one year removed.  A few hundred sleeps more from awakening the Kingdom.

This is a description of my life after March 8, 2011:

• I graduated with my MPA on March 20.  I really wanted to see what it was like to graduate in St. John’s, and so I went.  The worst part of graduate graduation in the Winter is you have to wait for every undergrad to get their diploma.  It took an hour.  Just sitting there.  I remember the chair being uncomfortable and shaking E. Gordon Gee’s hand.  I don’t remember what the woman said for the commencement speech (and she warned us that’d happen, anyway).  It ended a period of higher education that spanned from August 2001… almost exactly a decade.
• I started my new job on April 11.  I help to create affordable housing policy for a program that helps move people out of nursing homes into community when they want to leave.  It means I need to have working knowledge of the affordable housing industry as well as Medicaid.  I love my job.  I enjoy the people I work with.  It pays well, and I have good benefits.  I’m even more excited about the idea that this job will position me well for the next one, whatever that’s going to be.  Jesus was right when he said the poor will always be among us.  I love working in a job that helps them on the macro level.  It’s what I wanted to do.
• My brother was wed to his fiancee on April 16.  My first time as best man, it was a wonderful (and rather emotional) day for me.  I watched my little brother get married and start a whole new life.  Our family expanded +1.  We’re a small family, too, so that +1 is significant… like an increase of 20%.
• I met Lindsey McIntosh in person on April 25.  We’d been chatting online a week before then.  We went for tea and a walk that day.  By the time I walked to her home and gave her a kiss goodnight, we had 3 more dates planned.  It was that good.
• I found out my brother and his wife were pregnant with their first child on May 30.  I was of course very excited for them, but their combined age is almost 10 years younger than my parents, and they’re not that old.  But, it turns out that’s why you have families.  Our family expanded +1.
• I asked Lindsey to marry me on August 30.  She said yes.  My most immediate family expanded +1, which marks a 100% increase.  Our other families are now going to be expanding +1.

And so here I am.  I have three new family members, a new job, and am planning for a wedding, and for a new life.  Many of you who have known me for a while know that my heart has always been into having a family over just about anything else.  It’s not to say that I tried to force it, but I was happy when this life finally came.  It’s been years and years in the making, and here I am.

So I hope to actually write again.  To use this as a source of reflection, of thoughts about the world, and more importantly of recording my life.  As always, you all can view as much as you want of it.

Look for things soon (I think).

I will be graduating soon, and will need something to dedicate brain time to.

And of course we should all be concerned about this: this article in 2007 demonstrates that people are looking at Facebook, MySpace, and now Twitter and other social media sites just to see who we are… and keep in mind that’s three years ago.  I wonder how much that’s changed now.

Newsweek this week published an article pertaining to the closing of the gap between the internet world and the real world based on Mark Zuckerberg’s push open the internet as broadly as possible, believing (and I paraphrase here) that the shadow of our digital and flesh selves should be as small as possible.  He says it should encourage people to see that everyone does foolish things, and will liberalize society a little.  I’m not sure I agree with that, but I do believe in being open, if only for the sake of consistency.

I’ve been a proponent of this since I started working with college students at Gannon and would see how pictures of parties wherein students who were underage would show how much they drank to the Facebook world, and then would make sure that their parents didn’t see the pictures by either not being friends with them, or just selectively hiding photos.  Beside the fact that a future employer will potentially see the photo, what’s the point in doing something if you can’t let everyone know?  Moreover, if you can’t let your parents see something, why put it on Facebook or MySpace in the first place?  In other words, you may as well be consistent, because in the end that inconsistency will catch up with you.  At the best, you get a stern lecture from your parents.  At the worst, you won’t get your dream job because you made some serious missteps.

So I’ve tried to be proactive in my Internet identity.  If you go to my main website you’ll see all of my web presence – Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, et cetera.  All there for my employer, my friends, my next date, and my parents to see.  It’s on my business card.  You can even get to this blog from there.  And sure, you’ll see a picture of me drinking a beer or two at a Clippers game, but as far as I’m concerned I’d rather live in such a way that if my potential employer saw me anywhere, he or she would feel comfortable hiring me.  Never mind the Christological implications of being the same person wherever you are.

I’d encourage all of you who are in similar boats as I am to take a serious look at your web presence and determine if it’s a reflection of the person you want to be.  You never know who’s going to see it.

We’ve been friends since I was born.  We lived next to each other – not quite neighbors, but close enough.  We went to the same school together; when I played trumpet, she played the drums in band.

She’s a badass like that.

I liked her parents.  A lot.  Northwest Territory never had slaves.  That’s not something most parents can claim in the US.

In college we lost touch.  I hung with her neighbor, Pennsylvania, who’s hot.  She’s got two beautiful… cities… that I loved to stare at: Pittsburgh, and Erie.  It’s been a torrid affair with PA.  We dated for seven years.  She promised me if I came back after I left she’d pay me, get me a home, and raise my children.

She was going to be my sugar momma.

Then I came back to see Ohio.  Ohio’s always had the girl-next-door look – not hot, but certainly a girl you drank in when you saw her and felt no obligation to spit everything back out.  She’s a bit more ragged than since I last saw her, however.  The last few years haven’t been good for my girl – not able to afford to good food, her hair’s falling out, she’s lost a lot a lot of weight (and she hasn’t been anything but skinny since the 70s).

But, like any man falling hopelessly in love with a woman, I don’t see what she is as much as I see her best self.  I see her strong.  I see her resplendent.  I see her hopeful, and I see her aging ever more gracefully.  She’s not the woman who girded a nation with steel anymore, but she’s still skilled in ways I don’t think she even knows.  She gets used a lot by young folks, and then when they’ve used her up, they move on to sexier states with their siren songs, promising money and fun beyond what my girl can offer.

So one rainy night as we were snuggling in bed, I told her I loved her.  I tired to scoop the air to bring the words back into my mouth, but it was too late.  She said she always knew, and just hoped eventually I’d realize it.  She said she loved me, too.  She said she doesn’t have as much as some of the other women, but she’s home, and she’ll be damned if you don’t dance with the one you came with.

For a brief moment, I saw the fire of her past.  Bright and hot – the type of flame that melts iron.

And so I stay.

There’s these trees that are planted everywhere in CMH, and they have these gorgeous little flowers that as the wind blows they begin to fall off, and what you see is a final illusory snowfall.  If anything, it’s just a reminder that the seasons are transitory, and once you get done with one, well, another’s right in front of you.

Speaking of, I’m in a bald season.  Shaved my head twice, and for the first time I remember, I’ve been told I was “hot”.  Facetious or not, when you’ve grown accustomed to “cute” and “handsome” (the unfortunate bounds of the 5-7, “better-looking-than-not”s of the male world), you take hot however you can get it.  This is why my head got shaved more than once.  You can see it on Facebook.

Melissa said that when she looked at the picture, that I had sad eyes.  She’s always been incredibly perceptive about those things, and when I looked at the picture, I see the same thing she does.

Friends
(Check)
Money
(Check)
A well slept opposite sex
Guitar
(Check)
Microphone
(Check)
Messages waiting on me when
I come home
(john m)

I’m not sure what it is.  Maybe it’s nothing.  But, as often has happened in my life, I’m just waiting to turn a corner.

In case you didn’t know that.

I’ve found that I’m approaching this year a little differently than I think I’ve approached any others.  Maybe it’s being older, maybe it’s looking at life from the perspective of events, and less by dates.  Or maybe it’s just simply that the events of 2009 were in no way what I expected.  To be honest, I’m glad it’s gone.  For a recap:

• January-March: Pretty standard insofar as life goes
• March: Melissa and I have a break.  Also known as the slow-leak breakup.
• April: Melissa moves to Columbus.  That brought me so much hope and joy for the future.
• June: Melissa and I break it off.  My decision, and built around a lot of stress, and hurt.  It may have been the right thing, but certainly in the wrong way.  Later that month, she leaves Columbus.  I feel the weight of that each time I think of it.  Takeaway: if you have any hint of something significantly wrong in a relationship, don’t encourage a move one way or another.  I think this was akin to trying to save a relationship by extending yourself physically… it just hides deeper things.
• July: I break my ankle, subsequently ending my summer.
• October: Fender Bender
• November 29: Speeding Ticket and Fender Bender II.  I now have 6 points on my driving record.
• December: A bill that I didn’t know about went into collections without any warning and dropped my credit score 50 points.  I’m still waiting for Mount Carmel to rectify the situation.

I’m not writing this for your pity, but rather I’m writing this as a reminder to myself that no one said life would always be easy or fun, and sometimes you have a crap year.  I’m still blessed beyond what I deserve – I have family, friends, work, and grace.  I’m not saying God and I were always best friends in 2009, but I always knew if I called He’d be on the other line.

So 2010 comes around.  And so far I feel peace.  Part of the problem of having so much happening over and over was that there wasn’t a chance for me to reconcile myself to the events in my life.  A chance to pray.  A chance to not think.  A chance to disappear.  I took Christmas to do that.

And then I remembered so many good things.  Visiting Minneapolis.  Visiting Boston.  Taking an impromptu trip to Manhattan to just grab dinner.  Skiing on ground more than on skis.  Asking 10-year-olds what they want in their neighborhood to which they replied “not a f—ing German Village”.  New Salem Baptist Church.  The OHFA conference.  Starting Public Policy courses.

Here I am.

I am alive.

I am loved.

I am running 3 miles in 30 minutes, and know I can do better.

I am looking forward to holding hands and kissing in ways that cause silly grins and stumbled words.

End of January.  I’m applying to the PhD program in Public Policy.  I’m laughing with new friends about new things.  I wake up with the belief that today is worth the best effort I can muster, and then trusting the Holy Spirit will get me out of bed and bring me to the places where I need to be.

Everyone needs a 2009.  2009 makes 2010 worth something.

Jack stood atop the roof of his apartment building an looked straight down from the edge.  When you pay only $375 (gas, electric included!) for a one bedroom, you find that people fix just enough that you have a good chance of not killing yourself.  This, apparently, did not include closing the roof access.

Jack was about eighty-percent sure he was going to kill himself that night.  He did not like the thought of suicide, because it always insinuated that the cause of death was self-inflicted.  In Jack’s case, it was everyone else.  Just simple cause and effect.  The remaining twenty-percent, he figured, was his desire to prove everyone wrong.

“Prove Everyone Wrong” was printed in a stout font at the bottom of a piece of paper folded into nine symmetrical rectangles, worn by multiple openings and closings.  This was Jack’s Manifesto.  He took the folded paper and held it like a gun.  This was his weapon of choice.  Nine phrases, locked in the chamber.  Each one was guaranteed to pierce the skin the second he fired.  He only needed to pull the trigger.

Jack slowly began to reopen the paper and let the bullets fly.

1. FIND SOMEONE TO LOVE