Smart? Maybe not..

I think there are many decisions in life that are not between right and wrong, but between the “smart” choice, and the not-so-practical choice. In general, I’m a pretty practical person. [I wear my seatbelt, even when I’m in the backseat.] There are some times, though, when I have made the other choice.

Por ejemplo,

The smart thing would have been to major in something more "useful," or career-related, in college, like education, business, or nursing. I chose to major in English, because I wanted to.

The smart thing would be to not go in debt, but I did, in order to study abroad.

The smart thing would have been to keep working at a well-paying job at a prestigious university. I quit to work another summer at a children’s camp.

The smart thing would be to go to a church close to my house. I became a member and got involved at a church that is 45 minutes away from where I live.

So do I make "smart" decisions? not always.

But I don’t regret any of it one bit.

Getting to read and write as homework was ideal for me. I may never really use my English degree to make money, but I don’t care. There, I said it.

My study abroad experience was one of my favorite experiences. Ever. I did something that no one, including myself, ever thought I would, practically on a daily basis for 3 whole months. Three years later, I finished paying off that loan. Completely worth it.

I had a nice job. A nice job that bored me. A nice job that had little relevance to my Christian walk. I lived a nice little existential life for 9 months. And I hated it.

I fill my car’s gas tank about twice a week. It may be expensive to drive 45 minutes each way to church functions, but I found a church that I love. Really love.

Call me crazy all you want, but I’d rather be crazy than stuck with a miserable life.

Just because I’m curious (not fishing for comments), has anyone else done anything not-so-practical? Or done the “smart” thing and regretted it?

The SarcMark

Today, my best friend texted me about a new punctuation mark (she knows me so well). It's a sarcasm punctuation mark, created by a company called Sarcasm, Inc. It looks like a swirl with a dot in the middle. You can download it to your computer and put it after sarcastic sentences, in order to let people know that you were, in fact, being sarcastic. Here's my thought-process on the topic:

Upon first seeing the text: Is this a joke?

I googled it. There were news articles. I concluded that it was probably real, but remained skeptical.

Then I thought, Yes! I've been saying they need one of these! With some people, you just never know. This will come in handy.

Two minutes later: Wait, this is going to make us stupid. Without the mark, one has to work to carefully craft a sentence where sarcasm is conveyed. It can't be too subtle, or too obvious. Sarcasm, without the mark, takes wit, creativity, and talent.

One second later: I won't use the mark. I will rise above.

At this point, I began to get upset:You know what else? People are going to start using "sarcasm" for everything now. All those kids on facebook are going to start commenting on everything sarcastically. And it won't be witty sarcasm. It'll be lame. Now that everyone can be sarcastic, there is no talent required. The SarcMark will follow the same path exclamation marks have--overuse will ruin it.

After reading an article or two about it: I think this is a joke. Does a company called Sarcasm, Inc. even exist? And if so, wouldn't this be exactly the kind of thing they'd joke about?

An hour later: This will not catch on. Most people are in agreement with me, making sarcastic remarks about the sarcmark, not using the sarcmark. Thank goodness.

I think there are some valuable lessons here: 1) Sarcasm takes talent and, most importantly, wit. 2) This talent is not shared by all. 3) That's what makes it so wonderful.

[Side note: I know you've heard a lot about it today, but let's continue to keep Haiti in our prayers. There are lots of ways to help by giving money. Samaritan's Purse, World Vision, World Relief, the Red Cross are all taking donations. Definitely pray.]

Confession: I am a nerd. Want proof? Here ya go:

One of my life-goals is to own a printed copy of the Oxford English Dictionary. The OED is currently at 20 volumes with a price tag of $995. It's amazing. It's ridiculous. I want one.

This desire began sometime during college. I learned that Webster, though perhaps the standard American dictionary, was not by any means the best English dictionary. That title belonged to the OED. In fact, the OED's website is subtitled "The definitive record of the English language." The OED not only has definitions of a word, but the history of each word, as well as historical quotes to back the information.

When I lived in England, there was a TV show based on the OED. I'm serious. It was called Balderdash and Piffle and was used to gain new research on some words and to add some new words to the dictionary. This woman would pick a word and go explore the history and meaning of the word, including travelling, interviewing people, etc. I watched two episodes of Balderdash and Piffle and can easily say that it was one of my favorite shows on the few channels we got. It's okay, I know I'm a nerd.

As much as I would love one, I can quickly think of a few reasons not to get my own copy of the OED.

First, it's $995. And there are children in the world who've never even seen a book, much less know how to read one. $995 could probably do something about that.

Second, language is constantly changing. Language isn't set, like math (which is wonderful), so the rules, and the words themselves will evolve with time. This means that dictionaries also have to evolve. The OED is currently only in its second edition (Merriam-Webster is in its eleventh), but I know that the moment I purchase mine, they'll begin work on the third edition.

Third, they have an online version. Well, scratch that. I just learned an online subscription is $295/year. Crazy. In only 3.3 years of payments like that, you could have your own, physical, book-scented copy.

Moving on...

Fourth, twenty volumes is a lot of bookshelf space.

Fifth, how often will I actually research a word's history? Hard to say.

So you see, I will probably never own my own copy. However, I still think it would be awesome to have one.

Yeah, Yeah 2009. Blah Blah...2010!

While I'm not much of one for cliches (how do you get that accent sign?), I felt that it would be entirely wrong to skip right over a new year post.

....though, I suppose I did skip Christmas (Hope yours was happy!)...

A new year, though. I mean, that's right up a blogger's ally (like I said, hate cliches.). And there are so many directions to go with it...stuff done in the old year, stuff to do in the new year, lessons learned, resolutions, experiences. And lists! I love lists.

So, here's my new year's post:

2009 was a year, to say the least. So many things--first things, last things--happened. I really did attempt to list them all out (because, I love lists...are you keeping up with this?), but even I got bored, so I scratched that.

2010 is super exciting. And I think I'll leave it at that for now. (I would tell you my resolutions, but I read somewhere that if you tell someone your goal, you're less likely to do it, which only kinda makes sense, but I'll go with it.)

To sum it up: 2009=a year. 2010=super exciting.

Lessons from the Israelites #Dos

Lessons from the Israelites #1 is here.

Numbers is not a super popular book in the Bible. It has a lot of regulations and censuses (censi?). I think the title doesn't help matters much, either. Maybe if you like math.

Anyway, Numbers does continue the story of the Israelites, after the more popular episodes of Plagues, Red Sea Crossings, and the Golden Calf. The Israelites, at this point, are in the desert. I've always heard it referred to as "wandering," which made me visualize a kind of lost-ness to them. Not true. The Israelites had a pillar of cloud/fire as a roadmap. This thing led them wherever they were supposed to go. Pretty handy.

By the end of Numbers 9, the Israelites have gotten their tabernacle set up (according to some pretty specific regulations) and this is where the cloud/fire pillar camped, until it was time to move. Numbers 9:22 says, "Whether it was two days, a month, or a year that the cloud remained above the tabernacle, the children of Israel would remain encamped and not journey, but when it was taken up, they would journey."

Yeah, a year.

The Israelites are not a people that are often lauded for their faith. Since we hear a lot about their fear, and complaining, I generally think of them as a pretty whiney group of people. However, I kind of feel like this waiting for a year at a time, in the desert, took a little faith. I mean, I'd be thinking, "Hey, you think that cloud/fire pillar is broken?" Or, "You think that maybe it's not from God, maybe it's just a weird weather phenomena?" Or, perhaps more likely, I'd think, "Maybe this means we're supposed to set out on our own from here."

I'd probably also wonder about the placement of those encampments. I once went to the desert (somewhere near Nevada) and it is not comfortable. Or really interesting, for that matter.

Those Israelites may have complained and whined about many a thing, and maybe some of them really had those thoughts, but the Bible doesn't say. It just says, "At the command of the Lord they remained encamped, and at the command of the Lord they journeyed" (v 23a).

I often do not have that kind of faith. I am questioning. Sure, I don't actually have the privilege to see a literal pillar of cloud/fire, but there are subtle directions. I have wondered before why I seem to stay the same while my friends' lives change so much--moving for jobs, getting married, having kids, etc. Perhaps I am just encamped. I think my journey time is coming, though, and I'm excited.

some-

Today I read somewhere someone saying something along the lines of "I'm proud of you for fighting against what you want to do in order to do what you ought to do." I found that incredibly sad. I hope someday someone is proud of me for doing the opposite. The real trick, I suppose, is to want to do what you ought to do.

Snapshot Moments

Recently, I interviewed my best friend while preparing to write some sections of her wedding website (just a service I offer). I asked her when she knew that she liked the guy she will soon marry. She listed two distinct moments: one, when walking together on a sidewalk, he switched to walk on the side of the traffic; the second, when taking shelter in a cargo truck during a storm, he warned her not to touch the metal parts of the truck. While these moments alone do not make up their relationship entirely, they are almost tangible.

I love moments like that. Times when you could almost take a snapshot and point to it later, saying, "There! That's when I knew!" I can remember times like this in my own life.

The moment I realized my dreams of Broadway would never come true--I was singing out loud to Amy Grant when my mom asked, "Can you not hear that you are off-key?" I could not.

The moment I understood exactly where I stood with my director this past summer--he handed me the coveted golf cart keys. To me, those keys meant he respected me. I didn't even tell him I'd never driven one before.

The moment I knew my friends and I were "grown ups"--when saying goodbye one day, one of my guy friends told us to be careful driving back to school. Kids don't tell people to be careful.

But there are other times in my life when I cannot pinpoint a moment. There are no snapshots, not really even video. These realizations are more gradual, taking place over a long period of time, and more privately, perhaps.

I don't know why I decided to go to Union University.

I don't know how I became a writer. Or why I know I must write.

I don't know when I made most of my closest friends.

I think whenever it comes to big life moments and decisions, I hope for a snapshot moment. I hope that there is something tangible that I can look at and say, "That, that right there is how I know." But maybe I'll just keep going and one day will look back and say, "I don't know why I'm here."