ryanandjoy's Xanga

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Sun, 10 Dec 2006 07:32:37 GMT

This picture is one of several sculptures by Michelangelo known as "The Slaves." There is every reason to believe that these particular statues are unfinished works of a master, left half-done at his death. They were meant to be whole sculptures of slaves, for the tomb of a pope.

I find them both interesting and beautiful, however, in how fitting the name is to their current condition. They stand half-encased in raw marble, unable to be free, yet seemingly in constant struggle to shake off their earthly origin to join their rightful place beside their perfect brethren. I find this fitting, and poetic. I realize that good art is always a conduit for the viewer's own interpretation of the world to be realized, but the universal themes captured in what some might call incomplete work are astounding. In this simple, undone sculpture I see the spirit's struggle with the flesh, the heavens with the earth, the imagination with the body. We in the human race are free creatures who are imprisoned, citizens who are slaves, bound, yet emerging. A similar sculpture in theme exists in Washington D.C., known as "The Awakening." (It's below.)

The struggle for freedom, for change, for something other, is constant and imbedded within us. I don't know what we'll do when we reach that place where struggle is no longer necessary…we all search for something so long, what do we do when we've found it? Do we search out new struggles, both larger and smaller? And what when those are satisfied? Can a creature whose identity is formed in conflict and searching ever be satisfied in satisfaction?

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Sat, 25 Nov 2006 00:09:38 GMT

I swore to myself that I would never do this again.

I swore that nothing was worth the assault, the degradation, the stress of a 28 year old man fighting with both older and younger women over toys.

I swore that nothing in heaven or hell could drag me back into the abyss of Black Friday.

I was wrong.

Wal-mart has made my life miserable two years in a row now with their incredible deals on black friday morn. Last year was my first outing, in a vain quest for a digital camera. With my brother-in-law by my side, I underestimated what I was up against. By the time I fought my way to electronics, I could understand the incredulous looks I got from the cashier as he explained that the cameras had been gone within 5 minutes of the start of the sale. I eventually got a more expensive camera at Target.

This year, it was the potent combination of Power Wheels and Dora. My daughter looks at those power wheel cars everytime we are in a store with a mixture of desire and awe, and I've always told her they are way too expensive. But this year we happened to see the Dora VW bug for less than half the normal cost of a power wheels. Thus, I was awake at 3:30 a.m., and my wife and I were at Walmart by 4:20, waiting to claim our prize.

This year, I was successful. The car sits in the garage, under some blankets, until I put it together Christmas eve. The experience was a lot more peaceful this time through a combination of better planning, earlier arrival at the store, and choosing a more remote Wal-mart that is in a more undeveloped area. All the same, fights were breaking out in the aisles over HDTVs, and I had to guard my place in line from antsy parents waiting to get at that car.

I'd like to say that this was the last year, but my daughter is at that age now, and I'm pretty sure this is now an annual excursion.

The Dream

Sun, 19 Nov 2006 18:01:42 GMT

From Lilith, by George MacDonald:

In moments of doubt I cry, "Could God Himself create such lovely things as I dreamed?"

"Whence then came thy dream?" answers Hope.

"Out of my dark self, into the light of my consciousness."

"But whence first into thy dark self?" rejoins Hope.

"My brain was its mother, and the fever in my blood its father."

"Say rather," suggests Hope, "thy brain was the violin whence it issued, and the fever in thy blood the bow that drew it forth.--But who made the violin? and who guided the bow across its strings? Say rather, again--who set the song birds each on its bough in the tree of life, and startled each in its order from its perch? Whence came the fantasia? and whence the life that danced thereto? Didst thou say, in the dark of thy own unconscious self, `Let beauty be; let truth seem!' and straightway beauty was, and truth but seemed?"

Man dreams and desires; God broods and wills and quickens.

When a man dreams his own dream, he is the sport of his dream; when Another gives it him, that Other is able to fulfil it.

Monday, November 13, 2006

Mon, 13 Nov 2006 16:06:23 GMT

Yesterday was one of the longest days of my life. We woke up at 5 a.m. in Nebraska, threw our things into our van, and Joy drove while I tried to sleep on the way home to Denver. We got home about 9:30 in the morning, where I quickly jumped in the shower, drove to another Panera for needed supplies, and then got to work about 11 a.m. I proceeded to complete needed paperwork for our all employee meeting that night and the corporate auditor who is in town this week, all while dealing with being short two employees all day. In the meantime, I recieved a call from Joy that she was feeling lightheaded and having flutters in her chest. She was starting to sound panicked (sp?), so I told her that we have insurance for a reason, and to go to the emergency room. She was there, with our daughter, for at least 4 or 5 hours, as they discovered that her blood pressure was through the roof, and they tested her for diabetes and a possible blood clot in her lungs. Needless to say I was not incredibly focused on my work. Thankfully everything turned out all right, relatively speaking, and Joy's very good friend Kathy drove out to help take Ryley off of Joy's hands while they were finishing up the tests. Then, after I got home at 10:30 at night, after being up since 5, I got my girls tucked in and then proceeded to Myspace until 1:30 in the morning, like an idiot. That's over 20 hours, people. I never said I was the smartest cookie in the jar. All I can say is thank God we live in Denver, in the proximity of good friends who are willing to put their lives on hold at the drop of a hat to take care of friends. Thank you, Kathy.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Tue, 07 Nov 2006 04:28:12 GMT

Alright, I am officially sick of politics this election cycle.

Thank God the elections are tomorrow.

Commercials are officially running 24 hours a day, and since I've been home the last 6 weeks recovering from surgery, I have had the glorious benefit of every last commercial. Musgrave is the best person ever...Musgrave is the most corrupt politician in history. Paccione will defend our seniors and our borders...no, wait-Paccione will in fact personally escort illegals through the desert while handing them someone's pension check. The best thing about all this is that as I look over all the candidates and ballot initiatives on my sample ballot, I discovered that I don't even get to vote for Paccione or Musgrave. So, for the record, I state here that if I had the chance, I would probably pick the Green Party candidate, whomever that might be. Some people might call that a wasted vote...I call that a visible act of protest. If I'm fed up with the current political process, I think it is better to cast a vote for neither candidate than the lesser of two evils. I don't want to not vote, because then I'm just lumped in with the average lazy, ungrateful citizen. I hold precious my right to vote, and I have voted in every election for which I've been eligible. So I'm left usually with the green party, or maybe a libertartian, although their stance on issues is pretty out there. I am a registered republican, and usually I side with my party, with a few notable exceptions. I think our president and his administration have mangled the war, and their lack of recognition of this fact have led to unnecessary American deaths. I'm fed up with the mismanagement of our economy and growing national debt. The problem of course is that democrats rarely have better ideas, and I always have a huge difference of opinion with them on the matter of abortion.

This brings me to another point. I understand why people's political affiliation matters to the office of congressperson, or governor, but some of these races don't make any sense. For instance, I have a very clear choice of either a republican or democrat for my county coroner. Can someone explain to me whether or not one party shows substantial differences of opinion with the other on how to examine a dead body?

Happy Birthday to my love!

Fri, 03 Nov 2006 15:14:13 GMT

I met Joy on the very first day I was visiting my new school in 10th grade. My dad was a teacher there, as was Joy's mom, and as any teacher's kid can attest, this means you get to help get classrooms set-up in the week before school starts. I remember hanging out in the office, talking to one of the secretaries, when in walked three blondes. I wish I could say I fell head over heels in love at first sight, but what was actually going through my head was, "Geez, they're all blonde, how am I going to remember which one is which?" Of course now I know that they were Joy, Kendra, and Vicki, all of whom remain close friends to this day. This is probably her greatest quality...friendship. Those of you who know her, know that her friendship and caring are undying. She sticks with people, listens to their problems, prays with them and for them, with an endurance that I can't even begin to comprehend.

One of the interesting things about our relationship is that while Joy and I didn’t start “dating” until college, we were each other’s first date. We went to Homecoming that sophomore year in what we often joke was the most awkward date ever. I couldn’t drive yet (I’m five months younger), so we went in her car. All I really knew about her was that she played violin and piano, and all she really knew about me was that I ran the sound for the praise and worship team for our school’s morning chapels. I think we both breathed a sigh of relief when we got to the after-party at her house that night.

Over the next couple of years, I developed crushes an at least 80% of the girls in my class at one point or another, dated one of them (funnily enough, Joy’s best friend, and later her maid of honor), and through it all, Joy and I remained close friends, talking easily every day as we toiled away on the Praise and Worship team, sat in class, or especially senior year as we attended a community college class together and shared time in the hallway during free periods. By the end of our senior year, I was even talking about girls I liked with her (this is now an infamous instance of my boy-like idiocy in our household). At one point, shortly before graduation, I told her that she was one of just a few people I still wanted to stay in contact with after graduation, and I meant it with my whole heart. Her intelligence and beauty were already becoming something I was craving regular contact with, even before I recognized that I was “in like” with her.

We ended up both going to Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, and we quickly became closer than ever. In a wide sea of unfamiliar faces, having someone from home was comforting, even as we pushed ourselves to meet new people. I was quickly realizing that I had pretty strong feelings for her, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about it. My dad had often remarked about Joy when we were in high school together, and even when we were friends, I never really looked at her romantically, I think more out of rebellion to my dad than anything else. Now that we were on our own, my feelings quickly became solid and unmistakable within me. I think in the face of new friends and experiences that tend to drive people apart as they develop their own identities, I realized I didn’t want to have a life apart from her. She had lent me an Elizabeth Elliott book to read, and I asked her if we could meet and discuss the book. I think at the time that was probably my intention, but subconsciously my heart was setting me up. We met by the dorms, and started walking. Six hours later, by Lake Evelyn, I told her how I felt about her, and to my eternal gratitude, she felt the same.

I have never looked back. It has been ten years, and my love has only grown. We have been married almost 8 years now, and we have a beautiful 3 year old daughter. As the years have gone by, I have found new ways to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries, and I always wonder if I’ll be able to adequately show her my appreciation the next year. One thing she has always wanted from me was my “version” of our story. This I’m pretty sure is as close as I’m going to get.

I discovered a list as I was writing this that I made to celebrate our third anniversary, and it still applies so well, I’m going to copy it here, with some minor editing to bring it up to date. New comments are in parentheses.

Things I Love about Joy

Her sweet Smile. It brightens any room.
The way she laughs. It warms my heart.
The way she smells when I hold her close.
The softness of her lips.
The way she always wants to spend time together.
Our “silly” times together.
The way she makes me laugh.
The fact that she never wants to wear a coat in the cold.
Her love of rain and overcast days.
Her love for family… hers and mine both.
Her Synesthesia.
The way she looks into my eyes, like peering into my soul.
How she hates people making a pun out of her name, even though I find it appropriate to her disposition.
The way she keeps in contact with friends through email, chat, letters, and the phone. I have nothing but admiration for her dedication to friendship, even if it results in personal pain for her.
Her tenderness. She is the most compassionate person I know.
Her passenger seat driving. J
Her disdain for shoes in anything but the worst weather.
The way she finds me amusing.
Her obsession with Friends, (and now The Office.)
Her love of chips and dip. Lunch, Dinner, Breakfast, Afternoon Snack, Midnight Snack, Midmorning Snack, etc.
The way we both love food…she is my true soulmate…either that or we’re both very in tune with our German heritage.
Her travel history. Joy has been to the most amazing places, and I love having a world traveler for a wife.
Her criminal history. Her tales of international smuggling are great for parties!
The way she puts up with my geekiness, while never denying it.
Her sensitivity. She cries at movies and sad stories, I used to get freaked out by it, but I love it all the same. (I’m so used to it by now I actually laughed at this one.)
Her clumsiness. She is so cute when she knocks something over. (Ow, my head still hurts. I’m getting dizzy… why is everything blurry?) J
Her bright intelligence. I never have to worry about talking over her head, and she is the best person to have a conversation with I have ever met.
Her girliness. She has definitely decorated differently than I would have left to myself, but everything looks better because of it.
Her tolerance. I still get my room (the office), to do with as I wish.(The office is now Ryley’s room, and “my stuff” is mostly in the garage, but I hold our hope that I’ll get that room back one day.)
Her writing ability. She is amazing. I love to read her writing, and I know she’ll be famous someday.
Her ambition. While her goals may change, she never lets go of her dreams.
Her memory. How she finds room to store all the little details is beyond me, but I think it’s amazing.
Her adventurous spirit. She is always up for something new, even if I’m not.
The fact that she is a detective. “He’s good, but he ain’t that good!”
Her patience with developmentally disabled adults. (She used to work with them.)
Her lack of patience with stupidity.
Her sarcasm…never meant to hurt, always just funny.
The way she can make me crack a smile no matter what mood I’m in.
Her knowledge and love of grammar. What’s wrong with number 38?
Her absolute love and zeal for the Lord.
Her knowledge of and love for music. Her natural ability amazes me, and I can’t wait until I can buy her that Baby Grand someday.
The way holding her makes everything seem alright.
Her work ethic. As much as I complain, I still find it endearing the way she rarely can sleep when there are clothes on the floor.
Her playfulness. I love that she’s always up for a good time.
Her caffeine addiction. (This has only gotten worse.)
Her love of children. She will be the world’s best mother someday, and my kids get that privilege. J(She is, and they do.)
Her knowledge of computer programs…especially Word. My own personal help line!
Her love of language, foreign, written, and spoken.
Her crazy dreams. Weirder than any movie, more detailed than any book.
Baby Talk. The Sixth Love Language. (This is an inside joke, not meant to be understood.)

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Wed, 01 Nov 2006 04:51:16 GMT

I think I have a decent shot at winning the title of "World's Most Whipped Daddy." Yesterday I took my daughter to Toys 'R' Us to get a head start on her Christmas wish list. My instructions were simple-see what she seems to really like, and write it down. On the surface, this seems like a simple procedure, but when you have a three year old like Ryley, whose interest vary greatly, a 30 minute trip turns into at least an hour and a half. We played with the Thomas trains, looked at princess books (which she can spot at 100 paces at least), spent 30 minutes in the princess aisle alone, looked at videos, dolls, games, playsets, furniture, bicycles, and Barbie Power Wheels cars. As I tagged patiently along, I wrote down things like: Ariel Wedding Dress, Tinkerbell Playset, Princess Make-up kit, and "She likes chairs." Not exactly what I had in mind when I graduated with a minor in creative writing. The ultimate had to be when I strung together four words that I never expected to use in the same day, much less consecutively, "Glitter Princess Sparkle Castle."

That's right, a three year old has me wrapped around her finger. Tonight I found myself in the corner of a room of our church, watching my two beautiful girls make bracelets,

while I held a princess wand, a princess jacket, and pink plush shoulder wrap. I don't know why my daughter doesn't understand when I won't let her paint my fingernails. Another month of "home rest" and I'm pretty sure I would be doing that too. It's all worth it, though, when she says things like, "Daddy, today I want to stay home and be your friend," and "You're my favorite boy!" I assured her that that would not always be the case, but I don't think she believed me. I'm okay with that.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Sun, 29 Oct 2006 04:32:22 GMT

Alright, Joy has posted pictures of my head, and about the Broncos game as well, so I told her that I needed to post my own picture of my ultimate achievement...a carved Broncos logo on a pumpkin! I, like most people, have walked past those "pumpkin-carving kits" that stores put out year after year and never given them a second thought. Why pay for tools that do exactly what knives I already own can do as well? I am now a believer. Since we were going to a pumpkin carving party, we shelled out the $3.88 at Wal-mart, and I found I could do amazing things with the little saws and stencils. Here is our pumpkin from that party:

And here is my own attempt at the Bronco, traced from a printout. As you can tell, I'm very proud.

Broncos 13, Raiders 3

Tue, 17 Oct 2006 17:11:28 GMT

Well, it's been two days and I have reflected enough on the experience of a lifetime to write. On Sunday night, Joy and I finally enjoyed my birthday present (six months after the fact) and went to the Broncos game. They were incredible tickets, on the front row in the corner of the endzone, and against my most-hated team, the Oakland Raiders. I won't bore you with my way-too-intense love of all things football, and quote stats and plays from the game, except to say that we were right next to the tunnel where the Raiders came out,

and the Broncos' only big offensive play (a 50+ yard pass), only touchdown(a 2 yard run), and really big defensive play (an interception right in front of the goal line)all happened right in front of us, within about 50 feet.

Monday I woke up with a sore throat from all the screaming...which most of you who know me know is extremely unlike my usual self. I have never been part of a bigger crowd, with the exception of World Youth Day when it came to Denver in 1993, with an attendance of 500,000. I think I finally gained insight into the so-called "mob mentality." There is something extremely hypnotic and powerful about 76,000 people all focused on the same thing, and when the Raiders were on offense, and the crowd was screaming as loud as it could to cause false-start penalties (there were eight on Sunday), it was easily the loudest sound I have ever experienced.

Two years ago, I put my name, as an act of faith, on the waiting list for season tickets. They say it takes an average of 5 to 6 years for your name to come up, as there are about 24,000 names on the list. I figured that even though I couldn't afford them then, I would when my name came up. After that experience, there is no way that I won't find a way to pay for them. I can then enjoy that experience, cheering my Broncos in person, 8 times a year.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Sat, 07 Oct 2006 00:48:17 GMT

What I'd like to write about may make me sound ungrateful, but please understand that I'm not. The way people have reached out to us and made us feel loved as I recover from surgery has been so appreciated, it honestly is more than I ever expected. With that being said, however, eating other people's cooking raises issues one may not face regularly otherwise. Tonight we had one of several dinners that people from church have made us, and it brought up an interesting question. We had baked spaghetti with meat, sun-dried tomatoes, a red sauce, and corn.

Here is where I would play that old Sesame street song, "Which of these things doesn't belong?"

In your average casserole, why do people insist on adding corn? In what culinary school do they teach that corn is the missing ingredient from an otherwise perfect dish? It doesn't even match the genre of cooking. Do we add pasta noodles to our tacos? Of course not, it doesn't work. I understand that experimentation yields some delicious, yet unlikely combos. Chocolate milk? Wonderful. Hard-boiled eggs and sliced deli meat in a salad? For some reason it works. But I have yet to ever hear anyone bite into a big mouthful of anything and say, "You know what this could use? Some corn." And yet generations of mothers have added corn to the casseroles of America, and I for one think the reputation of casseroles and corn both have suffered because of this combination. Not that anyone is asking me, of course.