Ike's Guide to the Universe

'Way Back When...

2011-06-07T13:44:00.002-04:00

I've started sketching out my ideas for the paintings I've been commissioned to paint for the college library. I've been looking through the centenary book "God's Clock Keeps Perfect Time" for inspiration as far as what to paint. I think I'll do something along the lines of a look at GBS back in the 1920's, with the streetcars, absence of most of the buildings, and the unpaved dirt paths on campus.
Looking through the past 111 years, I am amazed at the incredible passion that has characterized the students and faculty throughout the school's history....
Anyway, more to come!
Back to work...

A Morning's Work

2011-05-28T14:26:00.006-04:00

See what large letters I have written with my own hand...

It's legit... although not legible.
Morning Haze at Fountain Square
13" by 13"
acrylic on canvas
$250

The Outgoing Introvert

2010-12-05T01:37:00.003-05:00

Laughter fills the air, as a group of people young and old gleefully gathers around a tall figure expressively singing about such things as how one hippopotami can’t get on a bus (because, of course, one hippopotami is two hippopotamus), and laughing all the more as he then demonstrates the correct method to remove peanut butter from the roof of one’s mouth.
That figure is my father. Tall, with what hair he has left graying at the temples, and with keen green eyes, my father is the picture of reserve and respectability; until, of course, you see his long frame stoop to form a snowball from behind a snow fort as those eyes twinkle with an almost adolescent glee. But which comes more naturally? Is he engaging and outgoing? Or is he reserved and reflective? Though many see only the former, as his son I see more than first meets the eye. Born just outside St. Louis, Missouri on September the 16th, 1950, my father was the youngest out of four children. Properly named Richard, he was quickly dubbed “Little Richie”, and was referred to as such in all but the most formal occasions.

Small for his age, “Little Richie” was also extremely shy, so much so that, as my Dad would later recall, he would “blush at the slightest glance” in his direction. Though he had a sharp sense of humor, his bashfulness would often interfere and the thoughts he would otherwise share he kept to himself. Still, young Richard lived a care free, happy life, unaware of any financial struggle. His father worked at the local cement plant to support his family, and brought just enough to make ends meet. “We were poor, but we didn’t know it at the time”, he told me with a chuckle. He, with the rest of his family, was raised in a small country house on the outskirts of town. Not exactly living in the country, they nonetheless raised a few chickens for eggs, and an old Guernsey cow for milk, as a way of supplementing their income. Upon graduating from high school, my father attended college at Southern Illinois University with a major in Geography and a minor in Art. Why Geography? “I don’t enjoy getting lost.” he deadpanned. “Plus, it was a lot easier than Physical Science.” While there, my father also got involved athletically by running track. Having long since out grown his size disadvantage, his six-foot two-inch frame easily loped around the track, as well as running cross country over the open field.

One thing he still had not outgrown, however, was his shyness. This shyness, and a fear of public speaking was severely put to the test one day, during a “Peace Rally” that was being held by the student body at the school. This was during the early 70’s, when the “peace movement” and war protestors were sweeping across college campuses all across America. My father, being curious, had stepped inside the auditorium where this rally was taking place. There he stood and listened as various students got up and spoke on how they should go about bringing peace in their time. As my Dad related to me later, “As I stood there, I felt an urging from the Holy Spirit to go there in front of all those people and witness to them about Jesus, the true bringer of peace. This was completely against my nature at the time…”
Nervously, he made his way across the long auditorium to where the microphone was, and haltingly gave his testimony about the Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ. A far cry from the life of the party at this point, he was booed and heckled off the stage and out of the assembly room. However, as he dejectedly made his way out to his car, a man who had heard him speak and had followed him out of the building stopped him. “I appreciate what you had to say.” The man said. “I wish I possessed the nerve to do what you did.” My father tells of how he continued on his way, only now with a much lighter step and rejoicing and praise in his heart. His strength was not in the sway of his own natural dynamism, but through the power of the Holy Spirit. It was through this authority he had overcome his natural bashfulness. That, to me, is who my father is.

Looking back, my father told me that “There were two things I vowed I would never do: I would never be a teacher, and I would certainly never be a preacher. So, I ended up doing both.”
Sure enough, after much thought and serious prayer, upon graduating from college my father became the science instructor for the high school at the Kansas City College & Bible School, and accepted the position of music minister and associate pastor at a local church. He often would relate about how on Saturday nights he would pace up and down in his backyard, wondering how he could get up in front of everyone the next day.

One thing that my father was always very serious about was his relationship to God. This, above all else, has led him to become what he is not naturally, extroverted and outgoing, as God has guided him towards a life of ministry and public speaking. Today, as the senior pastor in our zone of churches, he is well known for his way of putting people at their ease, socially. In the local grocery store, he cracks jokes and chats with the all of the employees from the manager down to the bag boy. As I look on, I smile to myself, thinking of the man that God’s grace has made. To me, my father serves as a model upon which to base my own life. Not because I too, am a closet introvert, but rather, my father serves as an example because of his commitment to following God’s call, no matter how far out of his comfort zone it may lead him.

That being said, of course I understand that everyone’s story is not the same, and that we are all created with a different set of strengths. However, based on my Dad I’d have to say that whether you are short or tall, outspoken or reserved, it really doesn’t matter. Ultimately, it’s what or who you have on the inside that is going to define who you are as a person.

Hymnic Emoticons

2010-11-27T03:12:00.002-05:00

People typically react against new ideas or concepts for one of two reasons:

A. Their level of abstract reasoning is insufficient to grasp the intent and thus think it stupid,
or
B. They mistakenly identify with the concept through over-generalization of the underlying premise and thus think the originator vain for assuming he or she was unique in that regard.

Of course, this is just my opinion.
Next thought, in my non sequitorial fashion...

I think that hymnals should be printed with emoticons to help illustrate what kind of mood the composer and author were trying to convey.
For example,

"All people that on earth do dwell,

Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice. =)

Him serve with mirth, =D his praise forth tell;

Come ye before him and rejoice. =D"

Or something along those lines...

A Prudently Intelligent Post

2010-08-21T13:19:00.002-04:00

"...intelligence and its opposite, in virtue of which we speak of people as intelligent or unintelligent, are not in general the same as scientific knowledge or as opinion. For if they were, everybody would be intelligent. Nor is intelligence one of the particular sciences, like medicine, that deals with matters of health, or geometry with magnitudes; for it is not concerned with things eternal and immutable, nor with everything and anything that occurs, but only with the natural subjects of human inquiry and deliberation. Hence intelligence has the same sphere as prudence, although intelligence and prudence are not identical. Prudence is imperative and issues commands; for its end or object is what ought or ought not to be done. Intelligence, on the other hand, merely forms judgments. There is no difference between intelligence and good intelligence, or between people of intelligence and people of good intelligence.

Intelligence is neither the possession nor the acquisition of prudence; but a scholar is said to be intelligent when he turns his scientific knowledge to some use, so a prudent man may show intelligence in making use of his opinions to form a judgment and a sound judgment on what he hears from someone else about matters requiring prudence..."
Aristotle, from his Nicomachean Ethics, on intelligence and prudence.

Cheese and Whine

2010-08-15T23:47:00.004-04:00

I noticed that it's been a while since I complained about anything on my blog, so here we go.

ISAAC'S PET PEEVE #301:
When I'm at a church dinner, or some sort of christian gathering where food is involved, and invariably someone walks up to the dessert table, declares conspiratorially "I really shouldn't have this..." and then goes ahead and eats it anyway.
If you REALLY shouldn't have it, DON'T!
Isn't that a form of gluttony? At the least it's showing a lack of discipline...
Restrain thyself.
Or at least, don't tell me about it...

(Excuse my loud typing.)

Of Goats and Fedoras

2010-08-11T22:53:00.004-04:00

"Are you guys in the play?"
Hm? What?
We (My sister and I) were standing in the corner gas station/Subway shop in downtown Middleburgh, waiting on our sandwich order, when one of the guys in the store approaches me.
"The play, are you guys in it?" he persists. My initial confusion wearing off, I chuckle to myself as I realize why he asked. See, the local-yokel playhouse was putting on a production of Chicago this week, which is a big deal in our little village. So, when you see someone in the street wearing a black and gray striped shirt and a black corduroy fedora, they must be in the play.
"No," I told him, laughingly, "This is just me."

Our town is not exactly urbanized, but that's one reason I like it. You can walk down Mainstreet under the shade of the sycamore trees...ask how so-and-so's Grandma is fairing...enjoy the smell of petunias in over flowing baskets hanging from all the telephone poles...stop in at the old hardware store and buy just one screw if you want, and some mighty fine coffee, too...
Oh, and get serenaded by a goat in a pickup truck, too.
We were leaving the Subway, subs in hand and getting ready to cross the street, when we heard a short bleat.
"MAA!"
Looking up, we espied a pickup truck with a bale of hay and two goats on the back.
For those of you who don't know, goats are hilarious both to watch and to listen to. Their cry sounds something in my mind like an young adolescent boy riding a roller-coaster for the first time.
"MAAOUGH!" he voiced, startling the lady jogging on the sidewalk out of her iTunes induced apathy. She continues on, a bemused smile on her face and as she draws abreast of us remarks:
"That's a goat in a pickup truck!"

Yes ma'am, yes it was.

Farewell to Beard

2010-08-03T19:45:00.006-04:00

Well, my friend...

We had a good run...
You weren't that big, but you were mine. My chin looks empty without you there...

It isn't you, it's me. Actually, it isn't even me, really. It's the institution, man...the school institution, that is.

Who will serve as referee between my top lip and nose, now that you're not there to separate them?

Who will protect me from someone scribbling a Hitler mustache and soul-patch on pictures of me?

I'm sorry it had to come to this, but you always knew this day would come.

Maybe I'll see you next
summer...

A Trip of Many Epic Proportions

2010-04-28T04:28:00.004-04:00

Well, I was bored. That's what I'll say when they ask what started it all.
Just plain bored.
(Which, if you know anything about boredom, is the most bored anyone could possibly be, as "plain bored" means there wasn't anything even remotely interesting about ones boredom.)
So, to recap; Me, bored, with the time machine.
What? You mean I forgot to mention the time machine? Why, how could I have forgotten that? This whole story hinges on nothing less BUT the time machine!
Sorry. Actually, it was because I was bored that I built the time machine in the first place, come to think of it...I'd post the plans but apparently that violates the space/time clause in my blogspot contract. However, I can give you a rough idea of what it looks like, I suppose. It's metallic, sits about 4 ft. high, is vaguely armchair shaped, and smells faintly of turkey when it heats up. By the way, remind me to pick up some oven mitts from the store, as it can get quite hot and I'll need something to protect my hands...
To be continued...

Creatures Awake!

2010-04-03T10:54:00.004-04:00

We emerge from under our wintered rocks to blink at the unaccustomed light, feeling it's partner, warmth, break on our waxen skin and dulled hair. The temperature is high with a chance of possibility:
Life.
The long pause is over...

Three cheers for Spring!
My, it feels good to go outside without a coat...

Uno Momento

2010-03-09T01:51:00.003-05:00

Before you criticize someone you should first walk a mile in their shoes. That way, you'll be a mile away, and plus, you'll have their shoes...

Tee-hee.

Good night.

They're all clones!

2010-02-04T06:24:00.004-05:00

This is in honor of doppelganger week. (or as I sometimes say, 'Doppler'ganger. Which sounds like something you'd call a meteorological gang member.)

In 1996, scientists first successfully cloned a sheep, and playfully named her Dolly. (Yes, after Dolly Parton. Ask me why sometime, or better yet look it up for yourself.)
So they say. Of course, it's not like you can tell the average sheep apart from each other anyway, so how could you know? "Oh, look, they're identical! We did it!"
My neighbor has a flock that he lets out occasionally, and believe me they're

hard to tell apart.

"Ah-ha! Look, that one's got a spot on his leg right there, see? Right ther- oh, nevermind, he just stepped in some mud and it splashed a bit, sorry..."
My opinion? Scientists should have picked a species a bit more distinguishable if they really wanted to impress people.
Interesting fact; All navel oranges are actually clones, with the exact genetic makeup of the original tree planted in a monastery in Brazil in 1820. Because they are seedless, and therefore sterile, the only way to produce more is by cutting and grafting.
I worry that if I ever cloned myself, my clone would scheme to usurp me and force me to perform menial labor for the rest of my sorry existence. And of course we would debate over who was the evil one-
"I was the evil one last week, it's your turn now!"
"No it isn't. And besides, you've already got the beard."
No arguing with that. Everyone knows the evil twin's the one with the beard.
Just once I'd like a character to be introduced WITH a beard, so that later when we meet his doppleganger he's clean shaven.

Once again, this post brought to you with the advantage of not having a clue what I'm talking about, which I've found greatly improves the readability of my posts.
So long! And don't clone around.

Pets...sort of.

2010-01-10T22:15:00.002-05:00

If I had a pet, I would name him/her/it "Peeves".

I'm not really a lovey-dovey person when it comes to pets, I can take them or leave them...

But I do have some pet-peeves. For example, I've noticed that people don't bow down to me every time we meet (And by "meet" I mean them following at a respectful 10 feet behind). This annoys me...

And many more!

2010-01-05T01:15:00.004-05:00

Hello, everybody!

Today (Mon, Jan 4) was Sir Isaac Newton's 367 birthday. He didn't do much to celebrate however, and I'm pretty sure he's dead. My condolences to his family.
Anyway, once upon a time, Sir Isaac Newton was sitting in the shade of a fig tree eating a sandwich. All of a sudden he was hit on the head from a fig that had flown off of its branch, because Jesus had cursed the tree. Because it was a hot day, the fig had gotten very mushy and when it hit Newton on his head it splatted and slid off, and some of it got into his sandwich that he was eating. Then Newton shouted "Eureka!" and came up with the Fig Newton.
Oh, yeah, and he also invented gravity, I'm pretty sure.

So you see, great things can happen when figs have wings.

We came, we saw, we shopped.

2009-12-22T22:53:00.004-05:00

Went shopping today in the City (Which, to us means Albany-Schenectady).
Saw Santa.
Seth: "Santa! I know him!"
"Make-A-Memory With Santa!", the sign read. "Deluxe Photo Package, $19.99."
I idly thought about popping up behind Santa's chair and including myself in all the photos. That would certainly give them a memory...
We, the family, ever looking for a bargain, have decided to sneak a camera and tripod of our own into Colonie Center Mall and take our family Christmas portrait in front of the large mall fireplace. Tee-hee.

Favorite story of the day:
Mom asking Dad why there was an extension cord stretched out on the front lawn.
Dad's response?
"Oh, I'm just letting all the electricity drain out so it doesn't freeze when I put it away for the Winter."
...
You know, it's a wonder I turned out to be so serious minded...

Noted Man Accepts Posthumous Award, is Speechless

2009-12-18T02:52:00.004-05:00

The enemy of genius isn't idiocy, it is the average.
The main opposition to genius is often brought from people who are actually quite rational and intelligent, who's semi-knowledge is worse than no knowledge whatsoever. Their preconceived ideas, carefully regurgitated to them by the previous generation, comprise of the totality of their reality. Nothing else is possible, and that, my friends is what makes it so maddening. Any brilliant idea is almost always thought laughable by the status quo.
Just ask all the posthumously-recognized geniuses of the past 500 years...
Indeed, genius probably has more in common with insanity than anything. Where do you draw the line?

I do not know, go ask your Dad.

Poem, A

2009-11-22T17:30:00.003-05:00

Upon Seeing A Woman Pushing A PULL Door

I smirk, I sneer, I look askance at her stupidity.

How could anyone be so dumb is far beyond me!

I laughingly walk to it, it easily opens,

Now through it, I glance behind as I go.

And with graceful step and blithe face

plant fully in unyielding second door.

"Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall."

Proverbs 16:18

New: The Media Bible!

2009-11-19T12:06:00.004-05:00

Exerpt from a conversation from any given movie or tv show when the Bible is discussed.

Hero Type: "Rev, I just don't get the Bible. With my keen intellect that is the product of our Utopian modern educational system, I know it to be scientifically false. It just doesn't make sense!"

Wise Father/Religious Type: "Son, it doesn't have to make sense. The Bible isn't about facts, it's about faith!" he says wisely. "You just have to believe..."

Yeeeaacchh. You might as well tell him to clap his hands, too...

Sorry, I just couldn't take it any more.

Be kind...

2009-11-15T02:46:00.003-05:00

Some times it's hard.

When you're trying to reason with someone, and he ignores your obvious insight.
When she and her friends look at all the facts and still come to the wrong conclusion and you fantasize about grabbing them around their necks and shouting
"How on earth can you be such a nincompoop!" and
"The reason you don't see it that way is because you're an ignorant idiot with no capacity for rational thought in that tiny brain of yours!"

Don't do that. =)
One of the most persistently present verses lodged in my head from years of Sunday School says:
"Be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you."(Eph.4:32)
Whoa. Seems like I need a reminder every now and then.
You know, God didn't say "Be ye smarter then everybody else!".
Simplify.
Be ye kind.
You never know, maybe that person in your life has something to teach you...even if it's patience.

A Jolly Stroll Downtown

2009-11-13T20:12:00.003-05:00

Or, How I Walked Around OTR For Hours With Conspicuous Valuables In My Backpack.

It all started with a trip to the CE. The internet in my apt was acting hinky, so I legged down to the land of the free wireless and beautiful coffee.

About closing time (6:00 post mortem) I decided to leave, because although I think I could’ve taken the barista, I’ve learned they tend to frown on that sort of thing, and call names.

Next, since I was roughly in the area, I trotted over to fountain square and snapped a few for later.

It was a beautiful night.

Next, some guy tried to (clumsily) filch my wallet out of my back pocket, but I, experienced world traveler that I am (Dublin, anyone?) had removed it to my hip to prevent just such an event from occurring. I affectionately advised him to “go play in traffic”, and continued on my way.

After stopping in on a few stores and art galleries, I decided it was time to wend my way homeward, and so started back up the Young St. steps. I had gotten as far as Milton St when looking ahead I espied what appeared to be some sort of negotiation on the next level of steps. Due to the lack of light and witnesses, and the presence of my laptop laden backpack, I decided to cut across Milton to Sycamore, and go home that way. On my way I met a lady who was trying to attract the attention of a stray cat, and who informed me in wistful tones that she “Never made it to Milton. They always stop me…”

Who?

The cats?

The infamous ghosts of Milton St.?

I never asked…

A Glowing Study on Lampyridae

2009-11-11T00:20:00.005-05:00

(See, "glowing", get it?)

Fireflies are nifty.
I've never met anyone that doesn't like fireflies.
They are one of the select few that never have to pay their light bill, you know? Bioluminescence.
From Wikipedia:
The enzyme luciferase* acts on luciferin, in the presence of magnesium ions, ATP (adenosene triphosphate), and oxygen to produce light.
*Yes, as in Lucifer (light bringer)

"You would not believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies lit up the world..."
This song, entitled "Firefly" by the group Owl City, piqued my interest. How many fireflies would it take to REALLY light up the world? So, with the vast power of the internet gods at my disposal, I determined to find out. Turns out that 1 firefly weighs in at around 1/40 lumens. In other words, you'd need about 40 fireflies to equal the brightness of one candle. Woopee. In contrast the BIG YELLOW ONE which is the SUN, when measured in lumens,(which is a really dumb way of measurement by the way) trickles in at 6,840,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 lumens.

Soooo, if you were to light the world with fireflies, it would take(deep breath): 273,600,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 fireflies!

Better get those old Ball jars out and get busy, because if you catch an average of 1,000 a night it would take you forever-to-the-"nth" power, dude...

Later

On Music

2009-11-08T01:26:00.007-05:00

One of the biggest problems I have with modern music is that I see it bludgeoning the cultural taste buds of this generation, overloading and rendering them incapable of distinguishing the much more refined flavors of emotion from, say, most music written before the 1900's.
One of the statements I've heard quite a lot from many of my peers is that they think classical music "all sounds the same"!
Their overstimulated senses are now rendered incapable of appreciating the music for what it is: Man's potential for genius realized through the art of sound.
It would be like having a exquisite meal prepared for you by a 5 star chef, and then turning it away because they don't have any ketchup with which to douse your pâté de foie gras...
Please, friends, do yourself a favor and don't criticize what you don't understand.

Whew.

Pause

2009-11-04T17:32:00.002-05:00

A haiku for you:

The next street over
the sun is always shining
as I walk up it.

Resume.

Ike's Blog 2.5: The Blog Strikes Back

2009-11-04T11:07:00.001-05:00

(Not the movie, still the book)

Sooo, I have decided to go back into the archives and pull out some unpublished drafts that never saw the light of your screen. Until now. I give you, in their somewhat incomplete yet unedited form; The Drafts.

Draft the Ist: If Wishes Were Horses...

>If wishes were horses, beggars would ride."

How many times have you heard that phrase, or have come across it in writing?
There are some inherent problems in this statement, however, and it is on these that I will be focusing on for the rest of this post.
From the information given it is impossible to know the time of the relation
(wishes=horses)
which might give us a clue as to the validity of the argument. In other words, at what point in time did this transmutation of non-corporeal thought into corporeal Equine occur, as it were.
Is this simply another question like "Hey, I wonder what this world would be like if we were all upside down?" and of course the answer is that philosophically there would be no difference if we were created that way. If that was all we had ever known, to us we would be right side up!
So if since the beginning of time
(wishes=horses),
pedestrian beggars would still be because wishes would not be wishes at all, they would be horses, or vice versa!
But then what if, say, this change happened over night, and all of a sudden wishes become horses. At first your average beggar might be pleased, although reasonably very startled. He could sell the horse and make some money. But soon, assuming the wish rate among beggars is rather high, the market would be flooded with horses, and the value would drop precipitously until they would be worthless. Not to mention the sophistication required for the waste removal system after the inundation of the streets... <

The Effects Of Caffeine On An Artist

2009-09-22T18:57:00.002-04:00

Some people get jitters and shakes.

For me, it’s like everything slows down so I can process it.

After coffee, even walking down a street becomes a intoxicating rush of information.

With the caffeine loosing my brain, it’s as if a switch has been thrown-“click” as suddenly it begins to come alive with the river of patterns…

The words “ smooth flavor” flashes across my thoughts. I stop; mentally I backtrack, and realize the source was a piece of paper blowing in the wind past me, glimpsed by my eye for a fraction of a second as I hurried along.

An ant on the pavement who’s short one antennae…a girl with three earrings on her left ear, two on the right(I wonder if she feels off-balance?)…three blooms, two buds on that bush across the street(hmm, rather late in the season)…sounds, shapes, colors, all being processed and organized simultaneously at light speed. I get the feeling that if I really wanted to, I could think a great thought…

Or something.

Attack of the Flavonoids

2009-09-02T14:06:00.003-04:00

Sounds scary, right?
"Phasers have no effect, sir!"
"Keptin, we must-" *BZZZZZZZ (static)
"Billy? Billy!!"
"Curses upon you, Flavonoid!"

Or it sounds like some you need surgery to remove.
"What's the matter with him?"
*hushed tone "Oh, he's got flavonoids."
"Flavonoids? No way, man. That's rough..."

Turns out, Flavonoids are actually good things. Flavonoids are a polyphenolic compound and are found in most of the fruits and veggies that we eat, and are known for being high in- (Oh, pick me!) Antioxidants!
Go here, if you want to learn more.
Or go here, if you want to see a cool website that will help you do the stuff you do better, and give you some new ideas too.

And now, back to my tea.
Which contains flavonoids.

We all scream for art...

2009-09-01T06:11:00.001-04:00

Aristotle wrote: “Experience produces art, but inexperience only luck. Art is produced when out of many ideas gained through experience we draw one general conclusion about some class of like cases.”

Hmmm…

Now, Aristotle and I don’t always see eye to eye, but on the philosophy of art I tend to agree with him, at least this far.

I could suddenly start painting a series of paintings of Africa, but chances are the resulting pieces would lack inspiration and originality, since my only experience of Africa is second hand, a trickled-down compressed myopic view from someone else’s experience of that country. The quality would suffer because of the dearth of inspiration. It would be dead to me.

Art, in my opinion, needs subjectivity. In order to be art, it needs to provoke a response, however subtle, in the viewer. There is some art that I really don’t like. Take “The Scream”, by Edvard Munch for example. Not my favorite piece. But I have to concede that it is still art. Creepy? Yes. But still art.

Whenever I paint I try to remember this principle, and strive to let my work speak…

That’s all.

Change

2009-08-04T19:54:00.002-04:00

Hey!

My new video is uploaded, just not on here.
Growing tired of finishing my video only to shrink it down to microscopic proportions(from original file size of 2.2 gb down to a mere 30 mb), I decided to post it on facebook.
Here is the link:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/video/video.php?v=1198704691709&subj=1351277217

In other news, a shout out to the bold band of ...sisters who came and visited over the weekend, more on that later.

Ike's Summer Blog Ep. 103

2009-07-13T17:39:00.003-04:00

Ike's Summer Blog-Episode 102

2009-07-12T00:20:00.003-04:00

Ike-The Summer-Ep.101

2009-06-24T04:56:00.002-04:00

Never mind the poet Pope, Jeeves...

2009-04-20T19:53:00.003-04:00

I'm typing this from Iris Bookcafe, on Main.
The last light is shining down through the latticed driftwood in the courtyard and gathering in buttery pools on the concrete; the pools that were gray from the rain that was falling when we got out of our car to reach the cafe. Ryan and I sitting with intent to study, he with his Irish Breakfast tea (do they really drink that for breakfast in Ireland?) and I with my French Roast Uganda that I love so much. We exchange glances in reference to the strange pulsating rhythms of some undiscovered artist that the establishment has deemed sufficiently à la mode and "artsy", we reflecting that you know, mainstream isn't so bad, and perhaps there's a reason some artists never get "discovered"...
Here all the coffee mugs have eyes, though they do look glazed over.
Coffee from Coffee Emporium, soup from Mira's, ice cream from Aglamesis, all in one spot.
Iris Bookcafe, on Main St.
See you there!

Warning: Not a Serious Post

2009-04-05T03:07:00.005-04:00

People twirling in slow-motion while flower petals are falling. You see it every day, right?

Yet more proof that I have the craziest, zaniest, most fun friends in the world.
Love you guys!

Reflections on Choir Tour

2009-03-02T00:10:00.003-05:00

1. God is amazing.(duh)
2. The guys and gals that make up this choir are some of the best people in the world.
3. Really.
4. P.A. Crew is #1!!
5. I was on P.A. Crew.
6. It is well nigh impossible to sing and minister to a needy world when you are laughing hysterically because an elderly gentleman got blessed, ran the aisle, and sat down next to the wrong woman.
7. Boy, he sure did get up fast.
8. Sometimes, in a piano and violin duet, the piano goes very sharp.
9. Day becomes night and Jesus Christ now has a son?! What?
10. Testimonies get a little funny towards the end of tour.
11. Don't sear the angels.

The Opposite of God

2009-02-03T23:25:00.002-05:00

Disclaimer: I am not a learned scholar, merely a curious schoolboy. I make little effort to define my terms- this is a blog, not a doctoral thesis. This is intended for an audience of people who are already familiar with the bible and basic Christian beliefs.

What is the opposite, or antithesis, of God?
I have been asking this question all day, and the most commonly presented answer, and perhaps the one on your mind, is Satan. So:
The antithesis of God is Satan.
So is Satan equal with God?
Well, no, we couldn’t say that.
Than how can he be the antithesis of God if he is not on the same level as God? For I can say the opposite of a bad apple is a good apple, but I can’t argue that the opposite of a good apple is say, a paper clip, for they do not inhabit the same plane.
All right, how about this:
Evil, which is represented by Satan, is the antithesis of God.
But even that doesn’t quite work, for from where did evil come?
God created Lucifer, who then became evil incarnate as he rejected God and His attributes. So, then, evil is the deviation of a created being from the Law of God. Since evil is from and pertaining to God’s creation, it cannot be the antithesis of God either.
So then let us refine our statement by changing it to:
The antithesis of God is no God, or un-God.
But that still doesn’t argue, for “by God were all things made, without Him was nothing made that was made.” so a “un-God” concept does not exist; there is only God and His creation.
So what is the answer?
Well, we know that God is all-powerful.
But God is also goodness, (in fact the goodness) and that He by his own nature limits Himself, which He alone has the power to do since He is self-existent.
So by God limiting Himself, he is in effect positioning Himself on the other side of the equation. Thus we have arrived at the conclusion that God is His own opposite!
Now, this does not mean that there is a “good God” and a “bad God” engaged in some super-cosmic battle, for this statement has nothing to do with good or evil. Nor is it that God is split in half with some kind of multiple personality, for we know that God is consistent with himself.
So, we now arrive at the final (at least for now, anyway) thesis statement:
The antithesis of God is God.

What do you think?
Feel free to debate.

And this is attractive how?

2009-01-31T23:29:00.003-05:00

"and blue Irish eyes put there by a smutty finger..." (Taken at the Flood, by Agatha Christie)

Apparently this is preferable to eyes that were placed in their sockets with clean hands.

English is weird.

Take for example the word "weird". If memory serves the word comes from the Old English word wyrd, meaning fate, or destiny.
Oh, here's another one: because. That one's a little tricky to define without actually using the word "because", but I've done it...
You know where because came from?
Well, it's etymology is steeped-or may I say, shrouded- in thick clouds of mystery. No one really knows for sure, but I have read one account that attributes the origin of the word to a man in a Nordic tribe about to go a' viking.
Said man, one Svet Björnik by name, when asked why he left his faithful Nordic crow Bji behind, replied with these immortal words: "Bji caws."

Not really.
I made that up.
I think it's actually Elisabethen and is a contraction of "be the cause" or something. Which isn't nearly as interesting as my definition...

But there really was a Nordic crow, however. Unfortunately, they died off along time ago.
Couldn't keep up with the the whole sandwich demand.

I made that up, too.

You're very gullible today.

Episode #-17: The Polar Bear Run

2009-01-16T23:02:00.002-05:00

Brrr...
-3 deg. Fahrenheit, wind chill -15...

It was cold.

My musings...

2009-01-15T09:48:00.003-05:00

On the importance of positive thinking:
Very. But positive thinking isn't everything. Let me try to explain.
You're falling off of Carew Tower. Now, as you soar through the air with the greatest of ease, you can think "Wow! Look at me! I bet I'll beat everyone else to the bottom..." and be really positive about the whole experience, but all the positivity in the world is not going to change the impact you'll have on the street below. =) Positive thinking can make an unpleasant ordeal more bearable, but sometimes if you use common sense you wouldn't have been in that situation in the first place.
Therefore, I say a positive attitude WITH intelligent decisions is great gain.

On hype, cliches, etc:
I think many people use cliches and hype as an attempt to ease certain social situations because they really don't know how to comfortably express how they actually feel. However, to simply say "Never use cliches!" doesn't really reflect an accurate view of our social protocol. A cliche doesn't necessarily reflect the person's total opinion on the subject; it doesn't have to. It's just an easier, faster method of communication with less potential for awkwardness. So do I think cliches have their place in society? Yes. As long as you don't over use them. I think that just like knowing which fork to use, the art of cliche usage is valuable.
Now let loose the dogs of comment...

Self-Titled

2009-01-08T10:43:00.002-05:00

An astonishing act
of LITerary limberance lies
as centER sagaciously
hidden half hAbily
in a diagonal direcTION.

you figure it out.

School is going great. I've been getting up around 4:30 every morning to study, vocalize, and have devotions before my 7:00 class. This practice has led to me turning in to a zombie around 9:00ish...
On a related note, there's Nigeria. Known for its oil reserves, poor taste in dictators, and susceptibility to deadly infectious diseases, now is branching out to the do-it-yourself safety gear niche with this innovative idea:
Can't afford a motorcycle helmet? No problem, says the resourceful Nigerians.
Simply slap a pumpkin on your head and call it good. All is not peaceful, however, as local officials are contesting the functionality of this avant garde in vegitable fashion accessories.

Microwaves: Are They Occult?

2009-01-02T03:02:00.002-05:00

Okay guys, I know I just posted something, but I couldn't sleep.
So I got up and investigated the source of all that is good in this world: The refrigerator.
I perused its mysterious depths and soon emerged victorious with a broccoli/ cauliflower casserole and several thick slices of ham. The next question I had is a familiar one to fellow dorm guys;
Do I microwave this, or do I eat it cold?
Microwave ovens. They're spooky.
My microwave has all sorts of helpful buttons I could push. There's a pizza button, and a popcorn button, and a potato button, and a...
How does my microwave know that I'm putting a piece of pizza in instead of last nights pot roast?
I stood in front of this mad machine, pondering this.
I reach out my hand and twiddle with the knob as I think, inadvertently sending the microwave into a symphony of beeps as I do so. Not seeing a week-old-broccoli-and-cauliflower-casserole-with-ham button, I now am faced with a decision.
Do I just leave the setting on high, and risk the mutation of my ham into bacon?
(Incidentally, I'm on to you Canadians.) I remember when I was young(er), my Dad, my brother, and myself put a marshmallow in the microwave. That thing got as big as a softball, and about as hard, too.
Do I try my luck with the power settings, and attempt to manually gauge the correct time/power/weight set of variables?
Nowadays there's a third option.
Sensor Reheat.
I stare at those words illuminated in blue against the dark metallic skin of the oven face.
Sensor Reheat. What on earth does that do? How does it work? What is involved in the "sensor" part? (i'm picturing little french fries dressed in star trek uniforms going "kepten, we're being scanned! red alert!") I pause.
...
The moral implications hit me. Should I really be using something if I have no idea how it works? I go with yes, and taking it by faith I press the button.
My food came out great, by the way. Exactly the way I like it.
So are they of the occult? Well, lets just say that although this claims to explain it all away, I know better. Like I said:
Microwave ovens. They're spooky.

Anachronisms

2009-01-01T20:20:00.002-05:00

The world's my oyster.

Yay.

(not a big fan of oysters)

I

Rudolph, Shmudolph...

2008-12-29T20:28:00.003-05:00

Transcript from a conversation at dinner

SCENE: ISAAC, SETH, AND MOTHER AT DINNER, EACH ENGROSSED IN A BOOK.

Isaac: "I say, that chap Rudolph…"
Seth: "What about?"
Isaac: "There’s something that doesn’t ring true."
Seth: "Oh?"
I: "How come it was a foggy night? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure it’s a meteorological impossibility in that region."
Mum: You mean at the North Pole?
I: "Yes."
S: "Yes, but Santa must be tracking the weather all over the world. The song doesn’t specifically state the location of the fog. Obviously the implication is that somewhere on S.C.’s route it’s as thick as pea soup."
I: "So if this was such a problem what did Santa do before he discovered ol’ Rudy?"
M: "Maybe Rudolph was descended from a long line of scarlet snouted Rangiferia, and it was sort of a family business."
I: "But if there were more than one, ‘all of the other reindeer’ wouldn’t have ostracized him for his abnormality!"
*gets a wild look "I'm telling you it's all a conspiracy, man!"
S&M: Mm…
FADE TO BLACK AS GROUP TURN BACK TO BOOKS.

A friend's birthday with friends

2008-12-25T02:22:00.003-05:00

Sorry this is so late in coming!

ike, Episode #104

2008-12-15T22:45:00.001-05:00

Ugandit?!!Ha,ha,ha!

2008-12-06T00:24:00.004-05:00

Went to the CE today.
The coffee of the day?
French Roast Uganda, my favorite. A bit on the dark side, as roasts go, but that's the way I like it. And so, feeling particularly mature, I asked Tiffany, "Uganda get some?" and then rejoiced in the fact that there's no such thing as a bad pun. Because, really, when you think about it, what makes one pun any more valid than another?
They're all equally low on the humor food chain, if you ask me. Puns are the ultimate solution to a lot of situations, though. For example, if you have a slip of the tongue, simply laugh, and then quickly follow it up with a pun phrase (i.e, "that was pun, let's do another one!). With any luck the person or people will think your mistake was simply a pun they didn't get, and not wanting to appear to be so dumb they couldn't even catch a pun, they will join you in riotous laughter, and all will be merry and bright.
Oh, and speaking of merry and bright, here's a special Christmas Story.
As we (Cheryl, Leanna, Tiffany and I) were walking back to our car after spending quality coffee time at the Emporium, a man walks up to me. Not just any man, though, for as I looked into his eyes I saw something special.
True, his clothes were all tarnished with all who knows what,
and his face had the idiotic grin of a nut,
but his hair looked like it had been touched by a comb,
and the red pointed hat he wore looked just at home.
His eyes how they sparkled, his smile so cheery,
his cheeks were so rosy, his breath a little beery.
His stick-on beard was as white as the snow,
and all and all he made quite the hobo.
The final point though was when he shouted and said:
"Put a smile on your face, now, don't look quite so sad!"
Then laying a finger along side his red nose,
he honked it, twice, for it was one of those.
Then up across the street like a comet he dashed,
prancing and dancing on his way past.
And though in my mind there's no question he's batty,
it just made me think, ah,
how I love Cincinnati.

Every time a bell rings...

2008-12-03T03:18:00.004-05:00

...a student gets an A!

Ahem.

(Bursts forth into song, to the tune of Jingle Bells.)

College life, college life,
Grinds your health away.
Finals, tests, all without rest,
And reading that’s due today.
College life, college life,
Makes you quite a sight,
Oh, what fun it is to write
That term paper tonight!

Back to work.
Putting the "stud" in student,
I.

Of Conductors and Omelets

2008-11-24T00:26:00.005-05:00

Okay, so I'm really thinking of only one conductor. Paavo Järvi. And technically, it's a "umlaut"(pronounced oom-lout, rhymes with boom-shout, whatever that is) not an omelet. The two dots above the a in his last name, that is. I think that anyone with an umlaut in their name is cool.

Paavo Järvi is definitely cool.
Paavo was born in Tallinn, Estonia, which makes him Estonian. And gives him a cool accent. Many composers and musicians came from Estonia, and many did not.
At any rate, he's now the director of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, or CSO. That's how I know of him. Last time I was at the CSO, I felt compelled to try and capture some of his dynamic energy on a page. You see, his style of conducting is quite unique. Instead of simply beating meter, he strays away from the metrical and towards the interpretive. In fact, I remember him giving an actual down beat only on the most rare occasion. Indeed, his gestures at times seem more reminiscent of a weaver than a conductor. Actually, that's not a bad simile.
As his hands stroke and pick, plucking the air with the most minute of movements, the warp and the weft of the music emerges, a delicate pattern of color in tone. Now with bold whirls and strokes the pattern begins to change as the master's hands blur into figures and lines I almost can't make out, but apparently the orchestra can as they intensify and strengthen and build with vigor broadening/deepening the tapestry...until, at the end the sounds fade and diminish and he is slowly lowering his baton, the only music now in the memory as we sit holding our breaths in the silence until he finally, almost grudgingly reliquenshes control and turns to face us.

And I think, you know, it would almost be worth being bald if I could do that...

Be Yourself

2008-11-19T14:50:00.002-05:00

No Comment

2008-11-08T01:15:00.004-05:00

I went to the CSO,
It really was quite a show,
They played Britten and Brahms,
We smote with our palms,
And cried, "Bravo, again, Paavo !"

Brahms spelled backwards is Smharb.

Shoulder Angels

2008-10-24T10:47:00.002-04:00

A Poem About Mud

2008-10-22T14:23:00.003-04:00

And now for something completely different, our very own poet laureate Mr. I. W. Owens will render for us in a very dramatic and most impressed way his latest work, "Mud".

On a Lighter Note...

2008-10-18T01:36:00.005-04:00

So I got a new sticky-note pad, and as I was using it I compared it to my old pad.
Turns out that the new pad is a slightly different shade of yellow than my old one.
So now I'm writing on a lighter note.

I went ice-sliding today, while everyone else skated. You know, people sometimes look at me and say, "Wow, I wish I knew how to ice-slide!"
Well, here's your chance. It's all in the take-off.
Step 1: Gingerly step out onto the ice.
Step 2: Push off with either your right foot or your left foot, or your...no, I guess that's about it.
Step 3: Shift all of your weight as far back on your skates as you can, whilst simultaneously waving your arms in a haphazard windmill-like fashion.
After that, the law of gravity really steps up and the rest of the maneuver pretty much happens on its own.
More advanced techniques cover the art of the 5 point landing(Yes, I know you only have 4 appendages. Figure it out.), the abrupt right turn that causes you to suddenly slam into a wall, taking out the skater who was dumb enough to skate between you and said wall, and how to look like you planned the WHOLE thing, and you're really just like, yeah, I'm cool, whatever.

Then Shane and I decided that everything sounded way cooler if you said it in a cool movie-guy voice, which still didn't help us find McDonalds, and apparently I sound just like the opossum from Over The Hedge.
(Wioux, wioux!)

Without wax,
Ike

2008-10-16T10:07:00.004-04:00

My bad.

Hypothesis, Theory, Law, whatever...

2008-10-14T13:51:00.003-04:00

Why is the sky blue?

You know, color is a funny thing.
Years ago, before color was invented, the world was a very gray place. Just look at old photographs. The only people who used color were the artists, and that was just because they were all high on fumes from their lead-based paint. Everyone else thought they were crazy.
Then, around the middle of the 20th century, color really became the "in" thing, and everybody went wild with it. Because the whole concept was new, people really didn't know how to put different colors together, hence we had the whole "Flower Children" movement of the 60's.
About this time as well, if you notice from old home videos, people learned how to walk more smoothly instead of jerkily running around all the time. Also, we learned how to talk.
Life went on, and with other inventions such as the 3rd dimension, the sticky-note, and the rubber band, the world progressed to the colorful utopia we know and love today.

Oh, and the sky is blue because it is a reflection of the ocean.

Life Reeked With Joy

2008-10-05T22:36:00.004-04:00

This is something that I happened across while I was looking at some articles online.

A History of the Past: 'Life Reeked With Joy' by Anders Henriksson

"Possibly as an act of vengeance, a history professor-compiling, verbatim, several decades' worth of freshman papers-offers some of his students' more striking insights into European history from the Middle Ages to the present."
For example:
"During the Middle Ages, everybody was middle aged. Church and state were co-operatic. Middle Evil society was made up of monks, lords, and surfs."

Seth and I laughed till we cried reading this article.
Words fail me.

Remember When...

2008-10-03T11:11:00.006-04:00

Remember 'way back in the fall of '08, when I pulled that all-nighter?
*chuckles
Yep, I was young and foolish back then...

A bit

2008-09-24T00:30:00.003-04:00

What must I do?
To show that I'm real?
To prove I'm who I say I am,
To prove I'm who I feel?

My Refugee Week

2008-09-22T00:56:00.004-04:00

Editor's note: This video will not play if you are using the dorm network. Don't comment about it. Go somewhere else and watch it, if you like.

Some stuff

2008-09-07T19:45:00.003-04:00

Well, at last here are the promised photos of the artwork in my room.
In this photo you can see the track lighting system my Dad and I worked on.
My sign that I use for my logo, "ikevision" is made entirely of scrap that I had lying around.
Making up the characters are such things as shielded conduit (e) a hinge (v) an old pressure hose (s) gears (the dot on the "i" and the "o") and other such things.

My painting/sculpture is made out of cardboard, coat hanger, canvas, and wood.
The cardboard was cannibalized from some boxes I had from moving in.
The coat hangers I found on their way to the trash.
The canvas I had already, although it too was a reject.
The wood, with which I constructed the frame, was rescued from the dumpster.
This is what's fun about art. It doesn't take a lot of resources to create art, just some resourcefulness.

Wilma, I'm home! (kinda)

2008-08-24T22:38:00.004-04:00

Well, i'm back in Cincy.
After getting all packed we realized that we still had one thing left to do.
Seth's beard was doomed. But, before he hacked it off, we snapped a few photos.
After arriving, Dad helped us set up our room.
As we had some spare lumber lying around, and a severe lack of shelving, we decided to build a bookcase.
There.
I've blogged.
Get over it.
Will post more as soon as I finish a painting or two...

Ike's Blog 2- Return of the Blog

2008-05-29T22:33:00.002-04:00

Well, after an extended hiatus, my blog is once again back in business. The whole baboon joke got old, and I just didn't feel like continuing it.

Oh the joy of being back in the country!
Went running this morning past the fields into town, got a cup of coffee at our little coffee shop and walked along River Street, came back and fixed myself an omelet. We were out of ham and cheese, so I quickly sautéed some fresh mushrooms with onions and peppers and added that in instead.
All and all, a success!
I think next time I might add some sour cream to the mixture, as I believe it would complement the mushrooms and add a certain richness.
So long, pard!

ATTENTION!!

2008-05-05T04:49:00.004-04:00

Due to a sad lack of posts from this blog's author, this blog has now been claimed by the Free Intervenient Blog Baboons of Eastern Russia, or the F.I.B.B.E.R.'s.
The former owner of this blog is being handled with the utmost care and attention in our lovely state-of-the-art facilities in the beautiful mountains of Afghanistan.
We trust that said author will come to see his mistake before his body is subject to such things as the Typing Machine of Great Pain, in which the victim is forced to type until his fingers are worn down to his knuckles.
THIS IS A WARNING!!
THOSE OF YOU WHO THINK THAT YOU CAN SIMPLY POST AT WHIM, WITH NO CONSEQUENCES, THINK AGAIN!

(This message sponsored in part by Abraham's Wife®.)

Here comes the sun...

2008-04-25T02:06:00.002-04:00

People: "Hey, looks like you're sunburned!"
Myself, thinks: No, really. What was your first clue?
Says: "I am?" with a look of blank incomprehension.
An explanation of my current dermatological condition?
Four words:
School Picnic
Sand Volleyball

Oh, the flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la

2008-04-19T13:19:00.004-04:00

Well, here I am again, sitting on my wireless rock at Eden Park. Wooden, sad faced joggers are drumming past me, looking thoroughly uncomfortable on this humid day...
Mel, Seth, Leanna, and Sam are discussing the personality of chess pieces, while some other friends seem content to wave and yell at us every time they pass by in their joyridden jeep.
Jogger#1 *waves back
Jogger#2 "Who was that?
Jogger#1 "Some idiot..."

I think I just had my picture taken by a Japanese tourist.

Stopping By The Park On A Balmy Evening...

2008-04-11T20:09:00.004-04:00

Sitting in a gazebo that has a plaque declaring it to be a “Garden Wedding Area” in the middle of flowering magnolia trees…
“They don’t actually smell that nice when you get up close to them” Missie

We wonder what would happen if they would actually host a wedding while we are here, and if instead of giving up our study spot we would all join Sam (who was already up there) sitting in the rafters. With our legs dangling down we would advise, cry, and comment our way throughout the ceremony.
I'm getting hungry...
I hope they have the reception here.

Wayne Sings!

2008-03-27T01:40:00.003-04:00

For some time now I have been coaching Wayne (my stuffed rat that I rescued from a life of misery at Old Navy) in vocal production techniques and styles.
He has really taken this to heart, and we are pleased to announce the release of our first single, entitled "3:00 in the Morning".
Ladies, Gentlemen, Rodents, here it is.

3:20 AM

2008-02-16T03:20:00.002-05:00

Shower

The water is wide, the poem goes
except here, obviously.
It starts out cold,
But I am bold,
And soon I am ready for
Soap, soap, soap.
Do you use it?
I hope.
Shampoo, shampoo,
To rub in my hair.
What do you use,
if no hair there?
Shampoo?
Nope.
Soap.

How To Write A Poem

Writing poems is easy, Bob,
Just make everything rhyme, Bob.
Have some kind of meter, Bob,
That way it will sound good and flow like a well written poem is supposed to.
Bob.

That was rough, Bob.

Xeedl??!!

2008-02-13T01:04:00.004-05:00

For some time now I have been amusing myself by thinking up definitions to the word verification "words" that I have to type in order to post a comment on the blogs of many of my friends.
Now, some people might say that those "words" are comprised of randomly generated characters and make no sense whatsoever and that since you can't pronounce them anyway your time might be better spent doing homework.
Fie!
Who's to say that many of our words that we use every day didn't start out as random sounds put together, and that just because you don't know how to pronounce them doesn't make them any less real?
With that encouraging thought in mind, I would urge you to do the same; next time you are confronted with that jumbled collection of distorted letters, don't rush on by and forget them, make a story!

The Lay of Xhdha*

Xhdha had fallen.
Although mighty in combat, Xhdha fell while attempting to cross the dunki of Gihob.
He slipped on the piigwo the herd of mkotidx had deposited, and before he could draw his yorut-handled breedle, the iviln-eyed horde of urhwyn were upon him, crying: "Yazknzer! Vjecc kyoke, Hoyrd!"

Ah, Xhdha, Xhdha!
Long will you be remembered.
I raise my duknsq to you, and drink.

All of the unfamiliar words in this example are genuine, that is, taken from an actual word verification request.

2008-02-09T19:17:00.000-05:00

Here's the little video Sam and I made for Student Development Day.

Homework

2008-02-09T13:29:00.000-05:00

To do, to have done
Would be good, there's no dispute.
But to do, to have did,
One must first begin doing.
I'd better start, he says,
And looks over what he has.

Reflective Ironing

2008-02-08T01:48:00.000-05:00

I like ironing.
I realize that as a male that is a dangerous statement to make, but,
I like to iron.
I'm not sure what it is about it, whether it's the taking of something that was disarrayed and straighting it, bringing order and making it aesthetically pleasing, thus in my small way making the world a more orderly place...
Or perhaps it's because as I iron I think and reflect on "many things" in almost a Walrus and the Carpenter sort of way.
I think that as a man ironeth, so he liveth.
Do I really need to iron the back of my shirt? I'm probably going to be wearing a jacket all day. Besides, that part always wrinkles almost immediately after one climbs into the shirt anyway...
After all, it's not like people are going to walk up to you and say, "You ironed the back of your shirt! Let me buy you a steak dinner!"
People usually don't give you a gold star because you spent the extra time and ironed the back of your shirt, and they are usually quite offended when you ask.

Incidentally, I ironed the back of my shirt.

Words- random thoughts recorded...

2007-12-24T21:22:00.000-05:00

Even in this age of bellowing entertainment all clamoring for our attention,
there is still in children and schoolteachers alike the same joy at the
faint pianissimo sound of a snowflake settling.
-

- Ode to a Finished Meal -

A corps of corpse-like cobs of corn
But a pale shadow of what they used to be
Lies lightly on my plate forlorn.
-

- Something so Deep That You'll Fall Asleep -
Dreams that are so real
you don't know you are asleep,
or
Reality that is so dream-like
you don't remember waking up...
-

- Hope -
Hope springs infernally,
and often bounces right out of control.

The Tale of Yei

2007-12-24T21:01:00.000-05:00

The Tale of Yie

Long ago, in the far off forgotten times of the distant past, lived a fairy named Yie.
(pronounced "Eee")
She wasn't a very great fairy, to be sure, and she wasn't the most beautiful, or the most powerful, but she was a fairy, and that meant something, even in those days.

In that time, if Mr. Brown wanted to send his humble holiday felicitations (such were the words of Mr. Brown!) to Miss Blakely, it was required of him to go to the General Coop Office and procure the use of a carrier pigeon.
For the small sum of forty-one cents, he could attach his greeting to a little ring secured to the bird's left leg (it needed its right leg to signal), throw the bird out of the window, and hope for the best.

Well, everything was going along just swimmingly (or should I say "flappingly"?),
when all of a sudden disaster struck.

"The pigeons, the pigeons!"

"They are all dying!"

"It's a regular Epidemic!" was the cry.

A great plague swept the land. The birds were falling by the millions. There was nothing anyone could do.

"What will we do? How can we wish each other a Merry Christmas if there's no bird to bring the wish?"

"Help, Oh, help us!" they beseeched the fairies, "Do something, Please!"

The fairy leaders sat down together in thought, to figure out some solution to the problem.
"Aha!" they said, and set about to work.
First, they tried to revive all the dead birds.

Nothing.

Next, the fairies tried to create new carrier pigeons.

No success.

Now, you might have thought that I had forgotten all about our fairy, Yie.
To tell the truth, everybody had. She had been sitting quietly off by herself all this time, watching, and thinking.

Finally, just when everyone was at his lowest, she stepped forward.

"Hmm..." she said.

"Hmmmmm... I wonder... yes..." she muttered, and began to tell her Plan.

"I say!" said the fairy leaders, and began to draw large, complicated diagrams.

"I say!" said the people, and began to talk excitedly amongst themselves.

Yie smiled. She didn't need to say anything anymore. The smartest fairies in the land were working around the clock to finish her Plan.

"Just think," the people said " A Grand Network!" "Unlimited Service!" "Reasonable Rates!" "Plus, absolutely no after delivery clean-up required!"

Finally, on the day before Christmas, it was finished.
"What shall we call it?" the leaders asked.

"Call it Yie-mail, after our dearest fairy, Yie." someone shouted.
"Yes! Yes!" the people responded. "Yie!" "Yie Forever!" "Speech!" "Speech!"

But all Yei did was smile, in her own way, a very little smile.
And boys and girls, after all these years, in your own Yei-mail, you can sometimes see her, still smiling.

Coming soon!

2007-12-22T05:37:00.000-05:00

And to think that I'm still so humble...

Caroling, caroling, through the town...

2007-12-21T19:13:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning to Mom saying "Get up, Dad called from work, and wants our family to go sing at Pizza Shack."
Uh-huh.
I just love our family.
So we arose, got dressed, and drove to Pizza Shack, a family run restaurant
started by two brothers from Naples, Italy. They also happen to be one of the best eats in the valley, in my opinion.
Turns out my Dad, a public school bus driver, had been ferrying the high school choir and band around all day, and thought it would be nice if after singing all morning they were sung to.
So, while they took their lunch at the aforementioned eatery, The Owens Family Singers sang.
While the strains of Carol of the Bells, Way Down Yonder, and White Christmas rang out amid the bustle of the restaurant employees, I reflected on the fact that most people probably never have had as much enjoyment with their expensive presents and parties as we have just singing.
Together.
I just love our family.

Finals!!!!

2007-12-11T19:20:00.001-05:00

wOW!! i'Ve HaD soMUCH cAFFiNE tHese PAST feW DaYs, It'S
A wOndER iT DoeSn'T ShOW!

But now I'm over the hump, so to say, and from now on finals will be a breeze in comparison.

Carpe Carpio!
(seize the carp!)

2007-12-09T01:28:00.001-05:00

I thought I'd post a photo for once without any text.
Oops, I forgot-Man, I did it again!
I think I'll stop.

A Call to Professionalism

2007-12-05T21:13:00.000-05:00

I was talking with my friend Sam late one night, and one of the things mentioned was the fact that among many in the holiness movement there seems to be an avoidance of anything that looks professional. They want it good, but not too good, for fear that it might seem worldly. While I agree that you need to be careful in making sure that all due glory is given to God, I must question the validity of their argument.
Shouldn't it be that as Christians we of all people should be the most professional, for ours is the most important profession of all?
If you sing, sing to the best of your capabilities, which might mean going to college to get a degree.
If you are gifted an any way, whether musically, artistically, socially, etc; then to not develop the gift as far as you can for the Lord would be a waste, a rejection of God's blessing.

While it's true that we shouldn't base our opinion of someone solely on what we see on the outside, as humans we can't help but be discriminatory of what we see and observe.
Man looks on the outside, and what he can determine with his physical senses-and since we are human, it is natural for us to judge based on what is visible to us.
Therefore, in anything we do, and especially when we present the gospel, let's do it to the glory of God, and to the best of our strength.

Now where did I put that shoe shine kit?

Ike

Non Nobis

2007-12-05T01:39:00.000-05:00

In Medieval times, the priests or some times the king would say a "non nobis" before the army went into battle.
"Non nobis Domine, non nobis. Sed nomine, tuo de gloriam."
Which being translated is a paraphrase of Psalm 115; Not unto us, Oh Lord, not unto us... but unto you be all the glory.

As a musician, it is easy to get my focus of attention off of God and onto myself. I practice, practice, practice to get something down, and after I do, I feel as if I did it on my own. After all, I was the one who spent all those hours in perfecting it, right?
Now juries are in a few days, and the feeling of self-dependance are stronger then ever, as I tell my self, "Come on, man, it's all depending on you to get this done."
Oh, God, help me to say my "non nobis" more often, and to give all the glory that is due to you.

It's a rather blog world

2007-12-04T02:17:00.000-05:00

Blogs.
They're everywhere.
Kids blog, parents blog, grandparents blog, and even on some occasions, small domesticated rodents blog. Or so their owners claim. And now I'm doing it. What is a blog, you might ask?
Well, the term "blog" is simply a cutesy, hackneyed contraction of the two words, "web log".
I actually tend to think of what I'm doing as more of a "web limb" than "web log".
So would that be a blimb?

Blissfully Blimbing,
Ike