The Joker must have listened to Tom Waits.

It isn't exactly a new comparison, but Heath Ledger's Joker bears striking similarities to early Tom Waits. These two men did work together on The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, so it isn't a huge stretch of the imagination to think that he took inspiration from Tom. Either way, Ledger's Joker is iconic. Check out the videos after the jump.

Dreams

The human brain is really an interesting muscle. It has the amazing ability to synthesize ideas from the bits floating around in the mind. I've been having very odd dreams lately. Maybe it is because I have been reading and watching a wide array of genres lately, but all my dreams may as well been David Fincher films. Not that I'm complaining. I've started keeping my phone very near the bed so that I can take notes of these dreams when I wake up. As Roland Deschain would say (and I'm sure I'm butchering this quote) "Dreams either mean everything or nothing." I'm sure it isn't nearly so black and white as that, but a dream either is the brain hard-wiring synaptic connections from the day, or it is a communique. Either case deserves notice.

Last night I had an interesting sci-fi psychological thriller dream. I sleepily emailed the synopsis to myself. If it still makes sense in a day or so, I may see if I want to do anything with the story. Think a mix of The Thing, the Inquisitions, Firefly (sort of), and A Few Good Men. As I hashtagged it on Twitter today, #GeekDreams. Have your dreams brought insight lately, or have they all been building a go kart with your ex-landlord?

"You do the little job you're trained to do.
"Pull a lever.
"Push a button.
"You don't understand any of it, and then you just die."
-Fight Club, pg 2

There are two types of feeling small that I have encountered. One is inferred from the quote at the top, that is the feeling of being a small and disposable part of a larger whole. This type of "small" offers no security, no comfort and no future. This is being a small unskilled pawn in a large company. You toil away on your once piece of the whole, and then you're gone. You can easily be replaced, you are not important, you are not unique. You have no chance for advancement and no bargaining chips. There are millions just like you, waiting for someone to die off or leave. Some people are very happy in this position. It certainly requires no real creative exertion to maintain this type of "smallness." But there is some allure to it, you punch in, pull your lever, and punch out. It is very easy to compartmentalize. Home is home, work is work, and never the two shall meet. Each player in this group is simply a cog in the greater machine.

The other kind of "small" is more fulfilling. You are a small, but important part of a greater whole. If you aren't there, or aren't contributing, the project isn't complete. It doesn't have as much to do with personal skill as it has to do with creative input and feeling of value. I have only experienced this a few times. It feels like being a piece of a greater puzzle. There is a greater picture and you are a small, but important part. This is the much rarer of the two kinds of small. 


How do you feel small today?

Current reading.

A few days ago I had a chance to re-read Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk. For anyone who has just seen the film, I really can't recommend the book enough. Reading this again makes me want to read Choke by the same author.

Do you have any suggestions for future reading?

A few words.

I found some old poetry I had written, and  I will post some here, regardless of the quality. I don't fancy myself a poet, though I wish I was. Enough self-deprecation for now. More long form entries to come later. This one is in progress, and currently untitled

Cobblestone street,
clack clack.
Sidewalk barkers, buskers,
users, lovers.
Hustle and noise,
I can taste the emotion,
the hope reflected in
the gutter.
Muddy water, captured sun.
I am amiably accosted,
delayed by humanity.
Tourists and lifers,
The air is abuzz.
The sky is an ocean, and
I am surrounded.
My heart,
My heart is full.

Church

"Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy" -Proverbs 14:10


I thought about going to church this morning. I have not gone in over a year. I am very conflicted. I still consider myself a Christian, though many Christians would say that I am not anymore. I guess you could call it a crisis of faith, or backsliding. There are many names for it, some are nicer sounding than others. I still believe in God, and in Jesus. I guess you could say that life got away from me. 

I used to volunteer at my church. I was in the band, helped the tech team, and I was a leader in the young adult ministry. I did missions trips, and I even did a one year internship and attended theological college classes. I used to want to be a youth pastor. I have lived the life. I have sacrificed relationships, money, and time to live the life. Sometimes the life was good, other times, it was difficult. 


When I was younger, there was a time in my life that I thought about killing myself. I have held the razer to my arm, and pressed it down to see the lines it would make. I can't tell you what spared me. I didn't believe in anything aside from what I could see. I didn't have anything bigger than myself to live for. I was raised quasi-religiously, only really taken to church occasionally, or on special days. My memories were more of games played in Sunday school, less of the stories told from the Book. Maybe it was providence that held me back, maybe it was cowardice. Perhaps it was nearly forgotten stories of Hell that frightened me into living. Whatever the reason, I lived.


During this time, in high school, I was visited by a local youth pastor. He invited me to come out to a church on a weekday night and hang out. I wasn't interested at all. He came back every single week. He didn't bring up the Bible or God or Jesus. He talked to me about whatever I wanted to talk about. I finally agreed to come his church. Eventually, it was there I found something to live for. I felt like someone besides my family cared that I was alive. I regularly attended, and then started volunteering. I wanted other people to feel like someone cared too. I had, at least in a small way, something I could give someone else. That church became my second home. I joined the band soon after. I had found someplace I could express myself. Eventually I became a band leader and lead singer as well. I preached, led worship, and helped convert those that heard the message and believed. 


I type all of this so that you understand how I feel about not being part of that life anymore. I never stopped believing, I sort of drifted away. There wasn't one single moment, or one person that pushed me from the dock, it had been happening a long time. For years I felt like the only thing keeping me at church was the fact I was volunteering every week. The part that hurts the most is that nobody seemed to notice my drifting away, or at least nobody probed deeper. But in any case, I didn't act out, so I didn't stand out. 


Maybe it is part of the way I was raised, but I feel an immense guilt about not attending church every week. My childhood fear can be summed up in the famous sermon by Jonathan Edwards, "Sinners in the hands of an angry God" This is an excerpt:  


"So that thus it is, that natural men are held in the hand of God over the pit of hell; they have deserved the fiery pit, and are already sentenced to it; and God is dreadfully provoked, his anger is as great towards them as to those that are actually suffering the executions of the fierceness of his wrath in hell, and they have done nothing in the least to appease or abate that anger, neither is God in the least bound by any promise to hold 'em up one moment; the devil is waiting for them, hell is gaping for them, the flames gather and flash about them, and would fain lay hold on them, and swallow them up; the fire pent up in their own hearts is struggling to break out; and they have no interest in any mediator, there are no means within reach that can be any security to them. In short, they have no refuge, nothing to take hold of, all that preserves them every moment is the mere arbitrary will, and uncovenanted unobliged forbearance of an incensed God."

My past picture of a vengeful God often collides with my more recent and more easily forgotten understanding of a merciful and understanding God. I want to return to that life, and I am hesitant to do so. But now I have been gone from church so long, to return would be like starting over. There is an allure in that. It could be nice to begin again, just attend church and not feel like I'm at work. It could be nice to not have the stress of the band, running the sound board, or volunteering in any way. I just don't know if it can be at this same wonderful place.

So, I am at an impasse. Perhaps I feel like I left the church without declaring that I was leaving, and maybe I feel guilty about that. Either way there is a certain amount of conflict within when I consider visiting next Sunday. I hear great things are happening there, but I am not sure I can face returning.

Insomnia

“Being tired isn’t the same as being rich, but most times it’s close enough.” -Fight Club

This insomnia is rough. Sometimes I just hope I can get home and be tired enough to sleep. Often when I do sleep, I will still wake at 3am. The trouble with having trouble is that I tend to want to diagnose myself with an array of things. I suppose I just want something to blame for my discomfort. There is something called Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder:

“….a chronic disorder of the timing of sleep, peak period of alertness, the core body temperature rhythm, hormonal and other daily rhythms, compared to the general population and relative to societal requirements. People with DSPS generally fall asleep some hours after midnight and have difficulty waking up in the morning.

Often, people with the disorder report that they cannot sleep until early morning, but fall asleep at about the same time every “night”. Unless they have another sleep disorder such as sleep apnea in addition to DSPS, patients can sleep well and have a normal need for sleep. Therefore, they find it very difficult to wake up in time for a typical school or work day. If, however, they are allowed to follow their own schedules, e.g. sleeping from 4 a.m. to noon, they sleep soundly, awaken spontaneously, and do not experience excessive daytime sleepiness.”

I have been trying to apply it to myself for a few weeks. It is sort of like Trivial Pursuit, in that I am looking at answers, trying to match it to my questions. It sounds almost romantic to have a rare disorder that I can’t really overcome. It is alluring to have a little aspect of my physiology that I was born with that I cannot easily change. Perhaps I want something to blame, but that something needs to be just barely unbeatable. Maybe I can give up soon and just adjust my life around it. Maybe I can be a victim to Sleep Phase Disorder, and have something exotic to mention at parties.

But seriously, I have been cutting out sodas and reducing my coffee intake to as low as I can stand. I’m sure this is stress related, though I’m sure the fabulous magic drug Caffeine isn’t helping. Not sleeping well has been tough during the day, but I do seem to get a lot done in the middle of the night! Maybe I have owl blood and Morpheus DNA...