Hooray! Haiku!

Knuckle is bleeding.
Service unavailable.
Zero gravity.

This has been A Pointless Haiku.

Thank you.

Agnosticism

Recently, a friend of mine asked me about my religion status on Facebook. She was curious to know why I was no longer a Christian, what made me change, and what all of it means to me now. At the current time I am not prepared to share the reasons why I denounced my faith in the Christian religion, but I will give you my answer to the last. This is what I told her:

For me, agnosticism basically means that I don't believe in anything that can't be shown. I have a difficult time believing in abstract ideas, especially during the time I was trying to wrap my mind around Christianity. This is something that makes sense. It's science, which for me is the only constant thing. Science has formulas and methods and systems that have been proven infallible over the centuries. It is not a religion for me, per se. I do not see myself as a religious person. Agnosticism is simply a tag name for the way I look at the things around me. When I ask why something happened the way it did, there is a simple and concrete reason for it.

Take, for example, the death of my very good friend, Will Christen, a few weeks ago. I found out that he died the day after it happened, and my first question was, "Why?" Then I looked into it, found all the information that was to be had, and discovered that it was simply an accident. The vehicle flipped, and he hadn't been wearing his seat belt. Others may profess that it was the hand and/or will of God, that it was "his time to go", but to me it was simply an unfortunate happenstance, aided by the catalytic detail that he lacked proper safety restraints.

In short: I believe in nothing; I put my trust in science.

~*~

I thought that a few of you might be curious to know. And currently, this is my standpoint on a lot of things. I am aware that there are gaps and loopholes in my way of thinking, but they exist in any process, religious or not.

Cheers,
Jax.

It's Been A While.

Well, it has.

So far this year, not a lot has happened. I took up snowboarding and discovered I'm not half bad. Work continues to take up most of my weekends, and school obviously consumes the week. Next Thursday I'm going snowboarding with my best friend, Erika. That'll be really entertaining. I'm hoping to fly out to Arizona to see my brother over spring break, which should be awesome.

Yup.

You can't spell 'sticky' without 'icky.'

Ick.

Wet, heavy, nasty snow. Don't get me wrong, I love snow. Just not slush. And, of course, we have that in abundance. The heavens decided to pour out their wrath in the form of a huge glob of disgusting wet stuff, which landed smack-dab in the midst of Minnesota and Wisconsin, and is moving toward Canada. Of course, it travelled across the eastern borders of the country as well, dumping snow on unsuspecting New Yorkers, Virginians, and...Marylanders? Ick.

And now for something completely different. A man with a stoat through his head. Er...wait. What I meant to say was: Christmas. It was amazing. My parents, oldest brother and I flew to Arizona to visit Jesse, my other older brother. (Confusing, ain't it?) Anyway. We dined at Joe's Crab Shack the first night, and the fare was...delicious. I would recommend it to anyone in the vicinity of Tucson, AZ.

The second day...well, afternoon, considering we slept all morning, was spent playing disc golf at the local park, which consisted of sand, rocks, a few shrubs, a multitude of cacti, and trees. Like a desert. No, really? We stopped by a small shop, Summit Hut by name. It took the better part of an hour to find the right size climbing shoe to fit my big toe. We discovered, with much laughter on my brothers' and father's part, that my left foot is half an inch longer than the right one. Wonderful. So, Dad bought me a brand-spanking-new pair of La Sportiva climbing shoes; my Christmas present, which I love. In a show of generosity, Jeremiah cooked for us that night, and we dined on a no-name meal. Pork chops covered generously with barbecue sauce and melted pepperjack cheese, complimented with broccoli (and dinner rolls) was the order of the evening. Fantastic.

However, this all pales in comparison to day three. Oh yes, it was that amazing. Jesse, Jeremiah and I took a little road trip into the nearby mountains, climbing to an elevation of over eight thousand feet above sea level. Jesse acted as our knowledgeable trail guide, leading us up, up...to Ridgeline. The rock face was completely exposed, and had easily eight climbs on it, most of which were, regrettably, beyond my skill level. Having not climbed since the Concrete Smorgasbord at UMD this spring, I was sorely out of shape. I ended up climbing a 5.8+ and a 5.7, only one of which I completed (the 5.8+, in case you're wondering).

Day four was met with sad goodbyes. We ate delicious foodstuffs at the local IHOP, then prepared to board out 2:25 flight to Phoenix. Unbeknown to us, however, the airline we had booked with had been delaying flights since 9 o'clock that morning, and they hadn't even thought to call us. Oh, joy. Can you tell this is about to get interesting? We needed to get to a connecting flight in Phoenix, which left at 4 PM. We waited around the Tucson airport until 3 PM, and finally decided to drive to Phoenix and catch a 7:40 flight to Chicago. My Dad called Kasey, Jesse's lifesaver of a girlfriend, and she whisked us away to Phoenix, about two hours away, in her small-yet-adorable (and almost painfully bright yellow) Audi station wagon.

We boarded the US Airways flight to Chicago without a hitch. Although, Chicago was another matter. You see, Jeremiah and Dad both had their boarding passes printed for the connecting flight to Minneapolis when we were still in Phoenix, but my mother and I apparently are on the airlines' burn list. Or something. In Chicago, we had to go outside of security, wait around for ages until the ticketing agents showed up (at 3:30 in the morning), and reprint all the tickets for the flight. Then, making our way back through security, we waited out the rest of the six-hour layover. Yes, I said six. Jer and I slept; Mom and Dad apparently couldn't. Finally boarding our last flight, we made it to Minneapolis at about 8 o'clock Monday morning, twelve hours after we were supposed to be there. Government efficiency at its finest.

In the end, we got home safe and sound--a little sleep-deprived, but relieved to finally be there.

So, my final thoughts for this post are as follows:

1. No matter how frustrating airlines are, there's always someone worse off than you. (Like the woman who'd been trying to get from France to Boston, was supposed to leave on Thursday and get there on Friday. She was in the Chicago airport at 4 AM. Monday morning.)

2. Never let your big brother move 3,000 miles away for a desk job and some spectacular climbing opportunities, no matter how convincing his puppy-dog face happens to be.

3. Christmas is awesome, but don't forget to relax.


I love. I live. I climb things.

Jax.

Watching Paint Dry

Today is a lazy day.

I'm sitting in the computer lab at school, in my most comfortable sweats and a red plaid jacket I nabbed from the closet at home. Dr. Pepper is my lifeline, I think. Danny believes it tastes like syrup.

Anyway. I'm waiting for my sister. She's got class until 3:30. Mac, my instructor, took a half day to go watch his daughter play tennis. Yes, tennis. Apparently some people do care about that sport. So I've got about three and a half hours to kill. And how am I doing that? Why, filling my time with Farmville, Fanfiction and this blog post, of course. Oh, and doodling in my notebook.

In other news, I am supremely happy with the people in my life right now. I went to youth group last night...I laughed so much my face still hurts. We played midget baseball. At least, that's what I call it. I don't think it has an official name. Ping pong balls and paddles. I forget too easily how much fun they are. My friends at youth group, that is. They are all Christians, and I suppose--being agnostic--I shouldn't really be there, but they make me laugh, and I think everyone needs some relaxation and real, genuine laughter.

I'm really not sure why I'm writing this. There is no goal, no ultimate point I am trying to convey to the world. Hmm. Bacon.

*EDIT*

So I found a few amazing songs I thought I'd share as a closing to this day...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Yv_klu3c1U&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5n1Az2YllRQ&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCMLTR2k0Nk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCj9R0N2a1U


And that's about it.

*Fin*

Just A Blurb

Mmm. Bacon.

'Nuff said.


*EDIT*


So I'm sitting here with my Reese's and my Tropicana orange juice and my Sun Chips, munching away while watching Law & Order: Criminal Intent.

And I'm thinking about Christmas.

It was weathering today. I call it that because it can't make up its mind. It's snowing, sunny and drizzling all in one hour. The next its gloomy and threatening thunderstorms. Weathering. What is it with weather men and not being able to accurately predict the forecast? Can someone please explain that? It's ridiculous. They have degrees in the subject, for God's sake.

Anyway, weathering. Yeah. I don't have a problem with it. I love the rain and the snow and the gloomy cloud banks and even the chill wind cracking the skin on my knuckles. The dry cold is OK. Maybe it's the wrinkled old people who take ages doing anything, blaming their inefficiency on arthritis. Or maybe it's the disgruntled parents with cold, sick, screaming kids--drippy, plugged up noses, snot running down their chins and onto their winter jackets. Maybe it's the way smokers stand out on the sidewalk, stubbornly defying the weather just to have their cigarette. Maybe it's those ambitious shoppers who believe they can crack the system by buying their Christmas gifts/decorations/cards three months in advance (then promptly misplacing them). Whatever the reason, people irritate me in the winter.

On another subject, my mp3 player died this morning. That also irritated me today. And I somehow left my phone on the kitchen counter. So I couldn't call anyone, and that made me think about how dependent we are on technology. There are five computers in my house alone. Five. Three of which are in one room. Now, why exactly we need so much internet access is beyond me. But we have learned that looking something up on the web is much simpler than going to the library, searching through volume after dusty volume only to find that their sources are too outdated to help. Yeah. Technology is pretty chill.

Also, here are some links that caught my eye/made me chuckle:

http://www.cracked.com/funny-2628-disaster-movies/

http://www.fatawesome.com/


And...that's it.

Enjoy.

What Makes A Role Model?

"What makes a role model? Who dictates what features, characteristics, or values he must possess to earn the title? How must one conduct himself, both in public and in solitude? I believe that no one can truly do this. No one can simply draw up a diagram, create a list of the qualifications, and say, "Here is what a role model looks like." Role model status is earned by the simple trust of a younger man looking up to an older, wiser, fiercer being."--The Unconscious Muse, by J.J.

Writing a paper on my brother was more difficult than I originally anticipated. For college writing, we were told to write a character sketch about someone from our life. I knew immediately who mine would be about. As we grow older, the memories stack up, and are shuffled around according to favorites or those of importance. It took me three days to decide where to start, and from there it took me nearly a week to write it out in a way that would capture my audience's attention.

I wrote out of anger, fear, love and joy. All of the memories of him, all of the ones yet to be made, contributed to this five-page work. As I sit here looking it over for the thousandth time before it is submitted, I can't help but chuckle at the silliness. A sixteen year old girl writing about her twenty-three year old brother.

But it was a sobering tale, the one which I eventually wrote. You'd think that an adoring little sister would write nothing but good about her idol. There is no way to write only good about him. As I typed the words that were in my heart and on my mind, I couldn't help but pause and reflect. My memories of him are truly bittersweet. There are ones I love to replay: wrestling when we were little, racing, rock climbing. We always seemed to be competing with each other, and he always came out on top.

Then there are the ones I wish I didn't still recall. Watching him transition from a God-fearing, respectful teenager into a man who believes that God can go fuck himself. Now, in all fairness and for fear of being called a hypocrite, I believe the same way. But for all intensive purposes, it was sobering to watch. Painful, even. But now that I have gone through the stages of doubt, bitterness and stubborn disbelief, I wonder if others have seen the change in me as I saw in him.

Anyway, it is a sad story, but the ending is lighthearted. He is my brother, no matter how dark, and to portray him in any other light would be dishonoring to him and to anyone who read it. He is a complex being, and I cannot claim to have figured him out. Anyone who does is a liar, pure and simple.

People in general are complex, but every time I thought I'd figured him out, he'd surprise me with something completely off the wall. Yes, I make him sound like a god among men sometimes, but I try to stay true to form, and what I write is simply how I see him.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I've been thinking about him lately, and I needed to get these things out here, if only to keep them from clogging my brain cells (the few that I have :P). Simply put: he is my role model, and I wouldn't have it any other way.