East Of Eden

"A curious mix of the relevant and reverential"

When the bough breaks...

I've received so many great messages of support, I will forever be grateful. Even the simple "I'm here for you" texts have buoyed my spirit.

It's a struggle. My mood shifts not just day to day, but moment to moment. My mood is schizophrenic.

Tears and laughs and blank stares.

I was reading a post at Bad Catholic and a paragraph stood out:

This may be why the sudden death of a loved one is so unbelievable, so vomit-inducing, so utterly rejected by the human mind. The one we have loved, the one we have treated as a self, has died. It follows that we, a known self, in a very real way, experience a death within that death. (When Michael Jackson died it felt far different. He was an other to me.)


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Requiescat in pace, Brittany Jeffers

Ever meet someone once and immediately clicked with them? At Jos' Memorial Service, a sweet young lady named Meaghan came up to me and said she had met Jos by chance in a supermarket. They instantly connected. They wound up having a few more run-ins, and decided they should actually meet up. Then Hurricane Sandy happened, and their date never happened. But on the strength of those handful of brief meetings, Meaghan felt she had made a good friend (incidentally, so did Jos; she mentioned her the last two times we hung out).

In the last six weeks, I made a similar connection with a bright girl named Brittany Jeffers. We never actually met.

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You'll shoot your eye out, Kid

What's your favorite Christmas movie? It might tell a bit more about you then just your taste in holiday films. Dr. James Emery White writes:

A couple of years ago a film crew from our church hit the streets of Charlotte, N.C., to produce a “person on the street” video asking people, “What comes to your mind when you think of the Christmas story?”
Number one answer?

“The movie.”

Yep, the 1983 “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid” tale from 1940s Indiana of a 9-year-old boy’s desire for a Red-Ryder Carbon-Action 200-Shot Range Model Air Rifle BB gun (and, lest we forget, with a compass in the stock).

An intriguing editorial in TIME magazine at around the same time noted how A Christmas Story had become the quintessential American film...
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"Jesus is my Boyfriend"

My stepmother Kathy playing at my brother's wedding in October.

Great post at Musings of a Hardlining Moderate about schmoopy Contemporary Christian Music:

I’m fond of the criticism that too many worship songs today fit the “Jesus is my boyfriend” genre. It’s no longer a matter of narcissitic, trite lyrics chalked full of superficial reflections with questionable theological implications. As Southpark rightly lampooned, many of our worship songs are now almost completely indistinguishable from any other love song, both in content and tone. They seriously make it sound as if we want to cuddle with Jesus, kiss Jesus, and make love to Jesus. In more gentle terms, N.T. Wright has called them “teenage love songs” about “falling in love with...
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Do you remember the Black Bart Simpson

Oddly enough, I do. Why? I'm not sure. For some reason, stuff from the early 90s stuck in my brain in a way Geometry never did. Anyway, from Uproxx:

What's the worst TV-related Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa (?) gift you've ever received? While you're thinking about which aunt gave you a signed copy of Dharma & Greg season three on VHS (Jenna Elfman's signature hurt the resale value), here's my answer: back in the early 1990s, when the only thing I knew about The Simpsons was that Bart Simpson did the Bartman, one of my uncles gave me a t-shirt with Homer and Marge's only son on it. But something was off — he didn't look like the Bart that had a rep for being rude. He was black.
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