What's a graduation cd without Vitamin C, Dave Matthews, Grateful Dead, and Green Day, you ask? The best graduation cd ever, I say...

I look very far down my holier-than-thou nose on people who squander shallow lives between this latest fad and that next big thing. Whether it be plugging into the American Idols and Survivors of the small screen or consuming the material idols of flip flops, Nalgene bottles, and whisker jeans, there are people—even the supposed best and brightest of my generation—who apparently find self-worth in being up to date on celebrity gossip and what style of distress is needed to set one apart as fashionable next season. These people, my peers, put mold on my brain after mere minutes of social interaction.

But I am diverse in my self-righteousness and this entry is not necessarily about blinded herds and the way they dress. Tonite finds my stomach turning at the thought of over-sentimentality, particularly the phony tears and empty well wishes associated with early May, graduation time.

It starts with the underclassmen trickling home after the “killer” week of “hell” they called their Finals Week, all three multiple choice exams and optional papers that it included. Still absorbed with the high school way of thought that doesn’t allow them to leave campus until they have wished everyone and everyone’s mother a great summer and reminded these same everyones to keep in touch, underclassmen strike me as irritatingly optimistic and annoyingly naïve.

Juniors get the hang of it by the end of their third year, but more often than not succumb to the tired lines of “We’re seniors!” and “Can you believe it? One more year!” as they trudge into their last real summer break.

Seniors are the demographic upon whom I will spew most of my ranting because they should know better. Four years removal from high school should have been enough time to learn that relationships ebb and fade with time or distance, and especially with a double team from both axes of a velocity graph.

Sure, we’re different now--more mature and wise beyond our years. Sure, we’ve established life-long relationships--the majority of us are engaged or close to it. This is not a call to cut all ties and start over once we turn and smile for the cameras one last time. Even I, cynic of all cynics, am looking forward to keeping in touch with the Family over the years, sending Christmas cards and making a Homecoming trek or two. I will make a short but thoughtful list of persons I'd like to keep in touch with, but no more than a dozen of the closest. If you're not sure you made the list, chances are you probably aren't so please, enough with the hugs and tears over someone you shared a chem lab cabinet with freshman year.

Pass on your books to underclassmen, pay your library fines, say thanks to the teachers that have touched your life forever, but do it without the high-pitched hug orgies, don’t promise you’ll keep in touch, and please—don’t post Vitamin C lyrics in your AIM profile.



Speaking of graduation song lyrics (the very thing that got me started on this rant), I am already near the watershed of tolerance for the "What a long, strange trip it's been"s and "Friends forever--love ya"s and "I Will Miss" lists (wait a minute...), so don't try to pass that crap on me--I see right through it.

In lieu of my second (final?) Pomp and Circumstance march, I am compiling a collection of moving-on-with-my-life/leaving-this-town-type songs to the end of the burning of these songs onto a cd. To close, I leave you with applicable excerpts from selected songs off the cd with the working title "Homeward Bound" (recommendations welcome)...


"and each town looks the same to me,
the movies and the factories
and every stranger's face i see
reminds me that i long to be
homeward bound (i wish i was)"


"tonite i'm leaving
this bullshit one-horse town
with its cowboys and indians
who only have balls
when there's a camera around"


"this town
don't feel mine
so drive me
far"


"did it on ritalin
i got me some good grades
now i work me the nite shift
where i
push and push and push til it hurts"


"at last it's finally over
couldn't take this town much longer
half dead wasn't what i planned to be
now i'm ready to be free"


"so here's the bright end of nowhere
here's the results of all our days
used to lay on the roof and drink beer
and try to count up all the ways
that you could waste away
looking back it seems so simple
but how we've done it couldn't say"


"take me to the shore
wrap me in a blind tomorrow
i won't fight no more
i won't scream
maybe we'll be washed away
maybe i just need a holiday"


"friday night they'll be dressed to kill
down at dino's bar and grill
the drink will flow and blood will spill
and if the boys want to fight, you'd better let them
that jukebox in the corner blasting out my favorite song
the nights are getting warmer, it won't be long
won't be long till summer comes
now that the boys are here again
the boys are back in town..."

I Will Miss:
Phyllis
my corner
crosswords with Nick
Saturdays in 124
gingerbread cookies
free cable
showers with unlimited hot water
apartment comradery...hahaha
a bathroom devoid of feminine products
cherry tomatoes
"who would win in a fight..."
pre-test sex talks
my tea cabinet
impulse CD buys with textbook shopping
(almost) all things SuperFan
student discounts
the tree outside SE in the spring
Partying Hard
drives home across PA
CHRP
the view of Pittsburgh from 279
poor, sweet, naive Pittsburgh sports fans
South Park voices

I Will Not Miss:
rain/snow four times a week
jocks
a mailbox with a key
Johnston Gym
spastic, seizure-incuding overhead lights!
Steelers fans
Browns fans
hoochies
hoochies on the lawn
buying textbooks
South Park
Wednesday nite visiting hours
overhearing people complain about Steve Bandi
overhearing people complain about Humanities
overhearing people complain about trying to find a 12th credit
a kitchen drain that rarely does
labs
Brig lines
IM dependancy
going to dinner grandpass-early
a balcony without a view
sharing a bathroom with three guys
sharing a kitchen sink with Chris
monkey dishes with honey or peanut butter
Steak Nite in pits
Black History moments
“diversity,” “worldview,” “calling/vocation,” “servant leader,” etc.
John Rooke’s annual spring chastening
drives home across PA

Remote, Chivalrousless Entry

Modern technology has improved life myriad ways. I need not waste space proving that point. I am writing to argue how a product of technology, remote keyless-entry to cars, has made life worse for men in one particular area, that of common chivalry.

This single item of technology is related to, and is destroying, one of the most basic and frequent displays of chivalry, the Boy-opening-door-for-Girl routine. Door-opening has long been a pastime of aspiring Romeos and Prince Charmings everywhere. It is a pastime that Boys cannot afford to lose.

There is obviously nothing significant in the act itself--any red-blooded feminist would tell you that Girl is perfectly capable of opening Door for Girl's self. There is even potential for Boy to use such a seemingly sweet act to satiate Boy's desire to assess Girl's assets as Girl walks in front of Boy, *ahem, ahem.* Regardless, Door Opening needs to be saved from the techies.

Oblige me the passport to your imagination and join me in acting fly-on-the-wall during Boy and Girl's first date. Boy picks up Girl at Girl's house (showing up on time, of course, but being forced to wait while Girl concludes Girl's final hour of pre-date preparation). Boy presents Girl with flowers and compliments Girl's outfit. Boy and Girl head out to Boy's car.

In the old days, Boy would walk Girl down the sidewalk to Boy's car, where Boy would gracefully let Girl's arm fall to Girl's side while Boy found Boy's key. Boy would use this key to unlock Girl's door and suavely open this door for Girl to climb in. Once in, Girl would lean over to unlock Boy's door so Boy could get in. Before long, Boy and Girl would be on Boy and Girl's way to do Boy and Girl stuff. Boy and Girl live happily ever after.

The Door-Opening ritual, if enacted correctly by both parties, is a simple exchange with no words necessary--maybe a "Thank you, darling" and a "Sure thing, Sugar Pie" in reply. The dialogue is not what communicates in this instance, but the actions.

Action One: Boy unlocks Girl's door before Boy unlocks Girl's door. This shows Boy's deference to Girl, and shows Girl that Boy thinks more highly of Girl than Boy thinks of Boy.

Action Two: Boy opens Girl's door. This is done as a courtesy to Girl, since all Boys know that Girls can open Girls' own doors and wear snappy pant suits and get Girls' own jobs and take Girls' own asses out whenever Girls want. Most Girls worth knowing know when to just say "Thank you, darling." This in itself is another communication. In opening Girl's door, Boy is showing Girl that Boy cares for Girl. Just as importantly, by allowing Boy to open Girl's door (or pay for Girl's meal or carry Girl's books), Girl is letting Boy know that Girl appreciates Boy and Boy's care.

Action Three: Girl leans over and unlocks Boy's door. This is perhaps the most important communication. This action shows Boy that Girl is willing to do Girl's part to make this a two-way exchange. By leaning all the way over to the other side of the car to unlock Boy's door, Girl is actively showing Boy Girl's gratitude and is communicating to Boy that Girl is willing to invest the effort necessary to build a relationship.

Door Opening is a simple exchange, hardly putting either Boy or Girl out, and Door Opening provides both Boy and Girl with a brief but telling look into a potential future with Girl or Boy. In a sensible world, sensible people would be content to let this sensible facet of the Old Days live on untouched by remote controls and automatic knicknacks. Yet here we find ourselves in the twenty-first century unable to escape all that is automatic and faster and convenient for convenience's sake.

Remote keyless entry is convenience at the push of a button, saving Boy and Girl the bother of using a key to unlock car doors one at time. Technology has made it so that the exact second that Boy is within spitting distance of Boy's car Boy can keylessly and effortlessly--but nay, suavelessly and silently--unlock every door of Boy's car in an instant and without a hint of communication to Girl.

What sad times are these when the trinity of Quickness, Convenience, and Efficiency take precedence over Care, Chivalry and Courtesy. I, for one, will have nothing to do with it.

"Of minor prophets and prostitutes wives"

The title of this entry is ripped off from the title of a Pedro the Lion song based on the story of Hosea, a minor prophet to Old Testament Israel. It's a song I've grown to love and it has indirectly led me to a study of the book of Hosea during my devotions. The pastor of the RP church I attend here at school has just started a series of sermons on minor prophets and how they point to Christ. In the Lord's providence, the sermon this week was the first of several he will preach on Hosea.

As you can see, the story of Hosea and the faithful love of God it proclaims have been on my mind a lot lately. Below are some thoughts I've had regarding all things Hosea. Most of them aren't original ideas.

So God called Hosea to take the prostitute Gomer as his wife. This would be a hard command to obey firstly because it was so bizarre ("God, did you say what I think You just said?"). This would also be extremely hard to obey because of who Gomer was. Gomer was prostitute of all prostitutes. She was described as a woman whom all men had seen bare and defiled. Everyone knew Gomer was a whore and for Hosea, a man of God, to take her as his wife would bring shame to Hosea, not to mention make it hard for Hosea to love her.

Making a long story short (a story worth reading in detail for yourself), Gomer was repeatedly unfaithful to Hosea, continuing in prostitution (to Hosea's knowledge) even as Hosea's wife. Hosea even had to eventually buy Gomer back from slavery.

Their marriage was to be an illustration to Israel, showing the nation their unfaithfulness to God. The Israelites so frequently "prostituted" themselves to other false gods, showing scorn to their loving Jehovah. But God was forgiving and loving to the nth degree, as they say. Hosea was to be an illustation to the people of their heavenly Father, the faithful husband to them, the adulterous OT church. Powerful illustration, indeed.

To me in the new covenant, the illustration is fulfilled and perfected in Christ. I am Gomer--I am a member of the church, the bride of Christ; my heart is unfaithful; I continue old sin patterns; I break promises to God; I am spiritually adulterous. God is Hosea--He is always faithful and always always always forgives me, takes me back, and loves me unconditionally.

Something particular that my pastor pointed out in his sermon was that as the bride of Christ, the church needs to clothed in white to be worthy of her husband, Jesus Christ. But Christians are still broken sinners and come dressed with sin-stained rags. We are hopeless.

But in the eyes of God the Father, Jesus has become Gomer for us, although without sin--Jesus was made sin for me, for the church. He was humiliated, acting as both the redeemed slave and paying the price of wrath that my sins deserve with His own sinless blood. Through His blood I stand can now stand in the white bridal garments of Christ, spotless and undefiled and redeemed! me, a common whore--REDEEMED!

Gillette isn't "the best a man can get"--singleness is.

Guys try so hard and put so much effort into impressing girls. When Joe Blow finds himself in like with a girl or two (or three or more), the world is a whirling dervish of topsy-turvy and kaleidoscopic chaos. The risk, the uncertainty, the thrill of the chase, the rush of blood to the *ahem* [head] all push a guy to his best. Creativity isn't a process to be nurtured; it's a natural reaction that exudes from every pore, every away message, every one-liner, and every interaction with said girl(s). Gillette isn’t the best a man can get—singleness is. Singleness stimulates a guy’s survival of the fittest instinct and makes every endeavor an opportunity not to pass up.

When single, Joe Blow frets about his clothes and frets about making social appearances; he frets over making phone calls and frets answering the phone; he frets about smelling good and frets about looking good. Throughout, Joe frets over the need to disguise all this fretting by constantly portraying an image of cool indifference.

Granted, some guys channel this nervous energy differently. The meatheads tent to release it in the gym, the grease monkeys in the garage; the emo patsies feed the torturous process with their whiny, “soul-baring” lyrics. Regardless of the product, most every guy is pushed to some higher level of creativity in whatever he does.

The best example of this in my own experience is how hard it is for me to write away messages, profiles and blog entries anymore.

As recently as last fall, I was Joe Blow in the single state described above. The Party Hard video was alive and Arms 305 was discovering the joys of all that is jackass. Girls were walking smiles for me to charm and sweet-talk without discretion or consequence. I was single and, in my own mind at the time, “thriving.”

It was during this same fall semester, through a conversation with Peter Swift when I boasted of putting more effort and premeditation into my away messages and profiles than anyone else (Whether this is something of which to boast is debatable, but you can’t deny that you read them every day and kept coming back for more).

The point comes across that I was pushed to rise above lameass messages that the common IMer turns out on a daily basis. I refused to sink so low as to post messages explicitly complaining about the crappy Beaver Falls weather or the frustrations of the opposite sex or pity-seeking proof that my finals week was the worst ever.

I had an image to maintain and creativity to burn. Integral social tool that it is for our generation, IM profiles and away messages were two of the most obvious outlets through which to channel my creative restlessness. I certainly wasn’t getting a chance in any shear/moment diagrams from steel class.

I think I was hitting the peak of my single-state creativity just as my relationship with Becca was becoming less "grey" and more "black-and-white."

I am not trying to make Becca out to be a sucker for superior away messages—besides, I’d like to believe (and rightly so) that her saying “yes” was more a result of our friendship growing more and more intimate—there may or may not be a correlation. The point I would argue is that the start of ScottandBecca changed everything.

Being the Scott in ScottandBecca meant an instant beginning to daily peace of mind. Single life was great for film fest material and feeding hormones, but little else. Being single is a little of what I imagine menopause to be, sans the droopy breasts and hot flashes. Moods swing from the depths of despair to the apex of ecstasy, often in the same hour. Maybe that’s where the similarities end, but the idea is conveyed, I hope.

The up-and-down nature of the single life is what feeds the fire. You’re either king of the world or footstool of the female gender or both at once. In any case, you have motivation, inspiration and ample reasons to swing for the fences in whatever you do.

All this is to say:

The post-pubescent years of Joe Blow’s young life may be the most creative and most self-exploratory of his entire time on earth. If single, Joe will probably push himself to be the best he can possibly be. This is one of the strongest arguements I make to say that the TEEN-AGE YEARSof a guy's life should not be spent committed to a girlfriend.