A Resurrection, of Sorts

Hey, how's it going? Let's just pretend like I didn't go an entire year without posting, alright? I'll give you a quick rundown of my 2014 (and the tail end of 2013). Here goes: applied to med school, started dating, got accepted to med school, months of just working, went to India, quit job, moved to Birmingham, started med school, got engaged, kept going to med school, got married, back in med school. And that's about it. I have nothing really new to tell you. I just decided to start writing again because I often get bogged down and I think, "Man, I need to write." And then I think, "You know, you don't have to keep saying, 'Man, I need to write.' You could just write." And finally I thought, "Hey, you're right, I'm just gonna write." Are we tracking? Good. If you are reading this, I assume you are either a much more faithful reader than I thought I had or, more likely, you accidentally clicked my link instead of that link about Kanye West at the Grammys. If you are a faithful reader, I thank you for staying with me. If you accidentally clicked the link, I thank you for having poor hand-eye coordination. I hope you will join my other ten (10) followers and bear with me through this. As a thank you for anyone unfortunate enough to be reading this, I'll leave you with this little bit that I just decided to write, just for you.

Worried Will was walking West,
vigorously vexed and in distress.
He'd seen the sun surmount the sky,
and worriedly wondered, "Why, oh why?
Now I know it's nearing noon,
the sun's shine will be stopping soon."
He beat his breast like some brute beast,
and eagerly exited from the East.
For he loved the land's bright light,
but he neglected nebulous night.
He dreamt of daylight's darling dress,
so worried Will was walking West.

Some Thoughts

I told myself I would wait. You can't just write about the application process if you're not accepted anywhere! I mean, I'm not that superstitious, but come on. But I've decided to write about it anyway, even though I haven't--wait, yes I have. I've been accepted to med school! OK, there's my moment of celebration, now onto the fun stuff. Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, wizards and muggles alike, elves, dwarves, dragons, cyborgs, mutants, Caleb Osborne Productions proudly presents:




Thoughts on the Med School Admissions Process.

• The MCAT is stupid. If I had a gun with two bullets and I was in a room with Hitler, Bin Laden, and the MCAT, I would shoot the MCAT twice. This one test somehow had the power to be the bane of my existence for 7 months. First, it was just the annoyance of studying FOR ONE TEST 4-5 hours a day, 5 days a week. Then, it was the agony of waiting for results. 35 days to get the results of an entirely computerized, multiple-choice test. Let that sink in for a moment. Then, it was the thought that my low (ok, average) score would keep me out of a school. But now I know I never have to take it again! I had several people, when I said I was disappointed with my score, ask why I didn't just take it again? Surely I would do better next time, right? I would audibly say something like "Maybe. Hopefully I won't have to," but inside I was laughing and saying...

But now the MCAT is forever behind me. Here's a poem I wrote* to commemorate the occasion.


"MCAT be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
...
The MCAT is no more; MCAT, thou shalt die."
       * ellipsis added for your convenience. We all know you weren't going to read the whole thing. Also,              ellipsis added because there are actually no more line to the poem I (sort of) wrote. It was intended for          humorous purposes only.

• The timeline of applying is dreadful. I would say it's like a roller coaster with all the emotional highs and lows, except there are no highs. It's like the carts that travel through the depths of Gringott's: lows and lower lows. There is the studying for the MCAT (see above, in case you decided to just skip here for some reason), then the waiting for results and filling out AMCAS, then waiting.

Then there are secondaries all coming in at once, and a mad rush to get all these essays done in time to seem like an organized, Johnny-on-the-spot type of person that yes, sir, you would indeed love to have as a part of your medical school. Why should we pick you, why would you pick us, what's your favorite color, what experiences do you have with Native American culture, why do you want to live in West Virginia, why do you want to live in Louisiana, how will you help rural communiies, how will you help urban communities, wait, what was your name again????? Then you wait.




























And you wait.




































And then (hopefully) interviews.












































And maybe, just maybe, an acceptance (or multiple? Who knows? Come on, Wake Forest!)
. And that's the process.
But really, what you need to know is this:

       the people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light,
       and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death,
       on them a light has dawned. (Matthew 4:16 ESV)

I've just realized that I ran out of steam halfway through this post. I apologize if you lost interest halfway. I'm surprised if you maintained interest even to halfway. God is good, but even better, God is God, and that is not dependent on any scores or acceptances or rejections or career path. May we always be mindful of the gifts he has given us, and wise to use them for the advancement of His kingdom. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Here are a few I wrote today. Nothing special. Enjoy.

"College Acceptance"

The mail! The mail! It's finally arrived!
The moment of truth is here, it's now, the moment of my life!

They said 3 weeks, but it's actually been 24 days, 17 hours.
But it's here now, all is forgiven, my mood is far from sour.

What a moment, what a joy, the college of my dreams! 
We were a match made in Heaven, the perfect pair, it seems.

Volunteer work and leadership roles, top of my class in school.
All that hard work, now I can attend this very prestigious school.

The interviews came and I wowed with my charm, I knew they couldn't say no.
I could see myself ten years down the road, doctor or lawyer or CEO.

I tear open the envelope, unfold the letter for a view.
 I take a deep breath and read, "Dear Applicant: We regret to inform you..."

Wait, what did that line just say?! Surely not what I think!
My eyes must be playing tricks on me, so I blink and blink and blink.....

But I open my eyes and the words are still there,
it was almost too much to bear.
I couldn't believe the choice they had made, 
my dreams of glory began to fade:
Rejection, clear as day.
I stand up straight and say in a loud voice, 
"Good thing this wasn't my first choice.
This school's certainly not for me,
there are bigger fish in the sea,
I didn't want to go there anyway."

"Couplet"

This couplet's artistic and edgy because
it doesn't rhyme.

"Limerick"

There once was a man in Hades
who had asked permission to sneeze.
The devil said no,
but still he let blow,
and gave Hell a refreshing breeze.

Everybody Dies, But Not Everyone Lives

The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.

My sister's birthday is today. We should be around the table, singing poorly and eating cake and taking pictures. But we're not doing any of those things, because my sister hasn't aged a day in over 7 years now. Even typing it now, it seems wrong. 7 years? No, that can't be right. But indeed it is. It has been over 7 years since Rachel left this world. 7 years of no singing, 7 years of no cake, 7 years of no pictures. It's hard to believe that much time has passed in such a hurry. I remember waking up, astonished to discover that Life, in its great apathy, had decided to go on without her. Surely Time would stop at least for a while to grieve? But it did not. It just continued marching, eyes ahead, while we were left behind to go about our own business. That was the day that I learned, not just in theory but in practice, that Life goes on. It's such a simple concept, isn't it? Life goes on. But we always, at one point or another, expect it to make an exception, just this once. It never does. It's odd how life now is, in essence, exactly the way it was before. I never saw that coming. I just knew that I would live forever with a leaden heart, heavy every hour of every day. But I have not. Life, as it is wont to do, went on. The pain has not necessarily subsided. At times, such as today, I feel it as fresh as ever, tearing again what I had so carefully mended. But I have learned that Life goes on. I miss Rachel very much. I still grieve for her. Well, really, I grieve for me. She is far better off now, there is no need to grieve for her. My grief is a selfish one, as I grieve for all the jokes I'll never hear her tell, all the smiles I'll never see her smile, all the laughs I'll never hear her laugh, all the sorrows I'll never hear her share. But Life goes on. Rachel loved Life, and she lived the one on earth as well as she knew how. In moving on, I acknowledge that she is gone for now, but I also know that she would find joy in my joys, sadness in my tears, and just maybe, laughter in my crappy jokes. She is gone, yes, but she still lingers, like after the pianist has left the room but you could swear you still hear that last note hanging in the air. As I live my life, I am experiencing things Rachel never got to experience, and going places she never went. It is odd, being older than my older sister. But today, I celebrate her Life. Not just the one I grieve for, but the one that Death has already tried and failed to steal from her. More than just her smile or her laughter, I am thankful for her (eternal) Life, and today, that is what I celebrate, for if there's one thing that Life has taught me, it's that it goes on.

Hey, how's it going? Long time, no see. Let's just pretend we're still friends, act like nothing happened, ok? So anyways, here goes. Let's start out with a little story. When I was 3 or 4ish, my dad offered me some ice cream. Being the trusting little child that I was, I eagerly accepted, took the biggest spoonful I possibly could, gobbled it up, and instantly realized something had gone amiss. Instead of the smooth, sweet vanilla flavor I had come to expect from ice cream, I was met with a harsh, sour taste...and then my dad started laughing. My poor little head couldn't quite figure anything out... eww what is this why doesn't it taste good eww why is daddy laughing this is bad can i spit it out whats going on????? It was around this point in life that I suddenly realized things are not always as they seem, and careful discernment must be used (also, that my dad and I share a sense of humor, though at the time I didn't think it was very funny. If you ever hear me voice any sort of cynical statement, blame my dad and his little joke. The world is not to be trusted). I also realized that I did not care much for sour cream. I tell you that little gem to lead into this... 
   But Jesus called them to him, saying, "Let the children come to me, and do not hinder              them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not                receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it." (Luke 18:16,17 ESV). 
I have heard people say before that there is nothing better than "a child being saved," and I agree that a young person coming to accept the love of Jesus is a beautiful, remarkable thing. However, yesterday I saw a 46-year-old woman get baptized. While I'm not generally much of a sentimentalist, I'll admit I did tear up a little get something in my eye watching it, and I'll tell you why. At the church I attend, before every baptism, the pastor reads a "statement of faith" that the new Christian has written. And yes, the statements written by second graders are adorable. They are full of "Jesus loves me, and I love Jesus" and "I prayed and felt better" and such. But this woman's statement caught me. The last sentence, in particular. "I am 46 years old... and I stand before you today, amazed and undeserving of the love of Jesus Christ." See, for a child, it is easy. You tell a child something, and they believe you. But this woman is no child. She has lived life. She doesn't have to be told that it's not all ice cream out there. She knows life is hard, and she knows that prayer isn't a magic trick, and she knows what it's like to have dreams and doubts and joy and trouble and ecstasy and pain and love and heartbreak. And she knows what it's like to feel and accept grace. She has seen and felt the hardships and pleasures of the world, and she has decided that the love of Christ is better than any of it. She has overcome 46 years of mistrust and insecurity to come like a child, arms open wide to accept the love of Christ. And that is one of the more remarkable things I have ever seen. 


p.s. - not too long ago, I gave one of my sisters Biofreeze (think IcyHot) and told her it was roll-on deodorant. And I have to admit, standing on this side of things, it was pretty darn funny.

Eat mor hate

Though I generally try to avoid being serious at all costs, humor me for a moment here. No, not that sort of humor. There will be none of that today. And besides, that joke is so old. Today is all serious. Sort of. Maybe not entirely. But I digress. In order to progress. So, there's this little company called Chik-fil-A that makes the greatest chicken sandwiches in the known universe (and, more than likely, in all the unknown universes as well). There's a situation, I won't waste my time explaining, I'll just assume you know (you know what they say happens when you assume, but I can safely assume that won't happen here). (I love parentheses). Anyways, the 2 most common words I've heard/read to define CEO Dan Cathy are "hate-monger" and "homophobe." This is the issue I wish to address. Stay with me here for a minute - let's assume I'm taking a written test in school. I'm expected to correctly answer the questions asked, right? So how do i know what the answers are? Easy - I know what is correct based on an objective reality (i.e. textbook,lecture notes). If the textbook says it, it's correct. Now, if I take a test and answer questions incorrectly, do I accuse the teacher of being a hate-monger? How dare he/she (we must be politically correct and gender neutral, you know) tell me I'm wrong for answering with what I thought was correct?!? Am I not entitled to believe what I will? This teacher hates everyone who believes that electrons have a positive charge!!! Now, I think we would all agree that accusation would be absurd. Electrons do not have a positive charge, and anyone who believes they do is flat-out wrong. The teacher probably has nothing against them personally, they're just not right. Now, let's transfer this thought into the current Chik-fil-A situation, as well as all the times Christians are referred to as judgmental, which is quite often. Though the current issue is homosexuality, it can be applied to anything the Bible takes a stance on. If Dan Cathy (or anyone who claims to be a follower of Christ) states that homosexuality is wrong, where is he getting that idea? Is it because he's straight and gay people creep him out? Is it because he's already got his marriage rights locked down, and he's so elitist he wants to deny that right to anyone fighting for it? No, it clearly must be because he's terrified gay people will take over the world with their flamboyant pants and their techno glitter parties (take a joke, people). Sadly, these ideas do not seem absurd to many people, as I intended them to be. This is actually what people think is going through Dan Cathy's head. However, his beliefs are actually based on one thing he believes to be objective reality - the Bible. Now, I am not here to convince you that the Bible is an objective reality (though I believe it is), or to explain to you why I agree with Mr. Cathy (I do), but to explain one simple fact - calling a person a homophobe and a hate-monger and judgmental for their belief in an objective reality is, quite frankly, hateful and judgmental. Mr. Cathy, in essence, stated that electrons have a negative charge. The textbook says so. Why is it any less absurd to claim hate from him than it is to claim hate from the teacher with the red pen?

A Jabberwock? Really?

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!"
- or something to that effect.
I half-listened to the cautions
he would always interject.


The old man, I'm sure, is senile -
a bit paranoid, you see.
Always shouting of the horrors
that would somehow befall me.


Today, it's the Jabberwock that has
some evil plan to hatch.
Last week it was a JooJoo bird,
or some frumious Sanderbatch.


The old man's claims didn't scare me;
a man in the prime of my youth.
That these creatures even existed
there wasn't a shred of proof.


Besides, he didn't understand
the power of the vorpal sword -
with the hilt of it in my hand,
foes were nothing but a bore.


So off I went in search of food,
walking easily as could be.
I set the snares then sat to think
beneath the Tumtum tree.


Suddenly a horrendous burbling
came crashing through the woods.
I'd never heard anything like it,
but I knew it couldn't be good.


Eyes of fire! Claws of steel!
House-sized leather wings!
My heart pounded as I pondered
the challenge he would bring.


I feinted right, he called my bluff
and caught me on the shoulder.
The pain, far from holding me back,
served only to make me bolder.


No greater foe have I ever fought,
each time I slashed he came right back -
until, with a final effort,
my blade went snicker-snack!


The beast was dead, I had his head
held proudly in my hand - 
never again will I fail to heed
the warnings of that wise old man.

Back from my sabbatical

I've had way too much free time to write the past 8 months or so. I'm not sure why it works like that. I suppose it's because when I'm really busy I usually have a lot on my mind, and writing (typing) gets some of it out. When I have this much free time, I generally have nothing on my mind except food, and when I do have something on my mind, I go into the "I'll write about it after this Walker, Texas Ranger marathon is over" zone. Needless to say,... well, I'm not gonna say it. It was needless. You know. I really have nothing of substance to go into this post, except expect (say that five times fast) more posts, as I will soon have much less free time. Very soon I will be going back to class (apparently it wasn't done with me), working (hopefully - applications have been sent out), finding a home church (an exciting and overwhelming proposition), and many other currently unknown things (if those applications pay off, I'll probably be sailing on my yacht bought with part-time, minimum wage pay). The only thing you really need to know right now is I'm pretty amped. I really am. For the first time ever, I have a clear and definite direction in life, even if it does involve, you know, 37 more years of school. Also, I just sort of realized I've lived at home for what appears to be the last time ever. Sure, I'll be close, and chances are good that I'll spend some nights there, but 6000 Shelley Drive can no longer be listed as my permanent home address. It's sad, and it's happy, and it's encouraging, and it's terrifying, and it's surreal, and it's been a long time coming, and it's come way too fast, but above all, it's peace-bringing. And it's time. This is my next step. My whole life, I've been walking down (or up, don't look too much into the direction) a dark staircase, with no clue where the next step is, or if there's even one there. I've just been stepping and praying that my foot will land on something solid, and it always has. But now, I know where the next step is. True, I can only see one step, but one step is one more than I usually see. Anyways, enough with the metaphor. I'm gonna go have some coffee.

Tiny Tim Turner

Tiny Tim Turner was quite a quick learner,

he learned many things with great ease.

He learned how to count, how to spell, how to read,

he learned to say "thank you" and "please."

With all the many things that tiny Tim knew,

he always got straight A's in school;

But now Tim was sad, for the other kids said

that getting straight A's wasn't cool.

English and history, science and math -

those questions, he answered them all.

The only thing in school he didn't do well

was the dreaded game of Dodgeball.

It was quite plain to see, when they went to P.E.

Tim wasn't the head of the class.

Nobody wanted him on their team,

and so he was always picked last.

Tim wished he were good at games such as these,

but clearly that wasn't the case.

Every day in the gym, they threw the ball at him,

and laughed when it bounced off his face.

So it came to pass that one day in class,

there rang that unwelcome bell.

Tim gathered his things and went to the nurse,

to say he didn't feel well.

The nurse said to Tim, "Oh, not you again!

You're not sick, get out of my room."

Tim gave a great sigh, and to himself cried,

"She's sending me back to my doom."

When Tim got back, the teams had been picked

and the game already begun.

Tim picked a side, and stood back to hide,

and just knew this wouldn't be fun.

Left! and Right! and Up! and Down!

Back and forth he fled.

Dipping and diving and ducking and dodging,

avoiding the blurs of red.

After a while Tim looked up,

and suddenly came to see

that three were left on the other team

and on his team, was only he.

Tim couldn't believe what had happened,

he finally got his big chance.

Then three dodgeballs came flying at him,

and awoke him out of his trance.

What happened next was incredible;

they had said it couldn't be done.

One ball in each arm, and one in between -

all caught, and Tim had won!

The yells rang out throughout the whole school,

Tim's moment had finally come.

His teammates cheered and high-fived him

until his whole hand was numb.

They still tell the tale of Tim's victory

to this very day at that school.

They tell all the kids of what tiny Tim did,

and how being smart can be cool.

Southern Weather

I love the weather like this. It's a bit drizzly, but it's been pouring for a couple days. So, it's post-torrent, but not sunny yet. I love it. It always reminds me of something. I'm not sure what it reminds me of. But it reminds me of something. To be quite honest with you, I'm not even sure it reminds me of a real thing. I could make something up, maybe. Say it reminds me of sometime in my childhood. As a kid, I would love days like this because the creek near my house would flood and my friend and I would float all the way through the woods in the flooded stream. Every time it would start raining I would sit and hope for enough rain to flood the creek. But that's not what these days remind me of. I mean, they do, in the sense that I can think back and remember floating down the creek. But not in the way that I am reminded of something else. It's like on days like this, I can just look up at the sky and think to myself, "I've been here before." Not here, as in whatever physical location I happen to be at that moment. Just - here. I can look up into the gray mist, and the mist in the air clears the mist in my head. What sunshine does for some people, cool and overcast days do for me. Suddenly, I realize I've been here before. I don't really know what that means. But I mean it. You can take that pretty much however you want. I'm not gonna look too far into it. I'm just going to enjoy it while I can. You know what they say..... the sun'll come out, tomorrow.

Th-th-that's all, folks! (maybe)

So, guess who has his last day of undergrad class ever today??? I'll give you 3 guesses. What? No, it's not Corey Hart. Why would you guess Corey Hart? You are the worst guesser ever. You know what, I revoke your other 2 guesses. It's me! My last day of class (maybe) ever is today! I mean, I have 6 credit hours left before I graduate, but I'm getting those with a trip to Costa Rica, so they don't count. As I look back over these past 4 years, I remember...not much, actually. My memory's not the best sometimes. So now, we move on. To where, you ask? Well, you see, that's a very good question. I sort of wish I knew the answer. But I'm also sort of glad I don't (though I have a few family members who are much more exasperated over it than I am). We always hear about living in faith, and my complete lack of planning and/or, well, planning, I suppose, either shows that I am starting to live in faith, or it may show that I am a terrible planner with no regard for my future. Either way, I'm excited. Really, I do believe that God has some sort of plan for me, and I'm excited to find out what it is. Knowing me, I probably won't find out until I'm already there, but whatever. For now, here we are. My last day of undergraduate class ever, and depending on future decisions (blah,blah,blah), maybe my last day of school EVER! I really do hate school. Growing up, nobody seemed to realize this fact. It was always like, "Yeah, you hate school, whatever." I know kids are supposed to say they hate school, but I truly always felt my hatred was truer and deeper than most. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. I still believe it was. I think people never believed me because I made good grades or something. Like hating school is contingent upon being bad at it. This is not the case. School and I have never had a very good relationship. And now it is (maybe) over forever. Am I nostalgic, looking back and seeing all the good in school? Not at all. Maybe years down the road it will be different. For now though, all I have to say to school is this - I hate you. So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Aaaaand boom goes the dynamite

They've always said, "You'll do quite well,
I really now must say-"
If only I could write a villanelle.

The big word seemed to ring a bell,
And I acquiesce, for they -
They've always said, "You'll do quite well."

But suddenly my spirits fell,
For I couldn't, try though I may.
If only I could write a villanelle.

This anxiety I must quell,
I hate to disappoint this way...
They always said, "You'll do quite well."

My back is forced against the rail,
I must find something to say...
If only I could write a villanelle.

Suddenly the words came in a hail,
The outline clear as day-
They've always said, "You'll do quite well,"
And i wrote a freakin' villanelle! (sort of)

the question to the answer is 42

Ok, so we've already determined that when people think about Christianity, Jesus somehow gets lost in the equation, right? The question is, why? I mean, christians and non-christians alike somehow ignore him, but what's the reasoning? I think the reason is fairly simple - it's a whole lot easier to ignore Jesus. Wait, what? No deep theological explanation? Nope. It's just easy to ignore Jesus. And people love to do things that are easy. The reasons are different for christians and non-christians, but the root cause is there. For Christians, it's easy to ignore Jesus because we can never follow all the rules. Ignoring Jesus means that when we screw up (daily), we don't have to realize that we are the bride cheating on the only one who will ever truly love us. We don't have to realize that we are the son rebelling against his father time and again. Without Jesus in the picture, all we have to think about is how many people do worse things. Sure, I may have strayed a bit, but did you hear what that guy did this weekend? Man, I would hate to be him on judgement day. And on the rare occasion we do happen to follow God's direction, man oh man, are we special. We don't have to realize that Christ expects and deserves more of us than controlling a few wild urges. We don't have to consider that all our "righteous acts" are like filthy rags before God. All we need to know is how great our self-control is and how much better the world could be if there were more people like us. I mean, that stuff I did was in the past, right? Today I conquered immorality once and for all. Did it single-handedly, too. Without Jesus, our faith becomes nothing more than a list of rules that, for all we know, could help us reach nirvana. Or at least make a lot of people pat us on the back. I mean, who needs a relationship with the creator of the universe, the only perfect being, the one who died just so we could have a relationship with him, when you could get a pat on the back instead? A pat on the back is so much more physically reassuring.

Well, if you will look, rule #783 clearly states...

The other day, a friend and teammate of mine described how he wanted to go to a church and make the congregation choose what they thought was the lesser of two evils in a moral dilemma with God holding a gun to their heads. It was essentially a game of "Would You Rather" with God thrown in there. Why God needed a gun, I'm not sure. Another teammate chimed in to offer his opinion - "That's essentially all religion is anyway." I disagreed, and he defended his position - "There are rules, and if you don't follow them, God punishes you." As much as I disagree, I have to admit this is a fairly common view. In the southern christian culture we live in, however, voicing this opinion gets one relegated to the ranks of the sodomites and baby killers. That is to say, self-righteous hypocrites instantly hate you. Now, I am not saying that I agree with my teammates, or that homosexuality and abortion are perfectly ok. The point I am trying to make is that christians and atheists alike often get true Christianity confused with something insignificant - rules. The obvious difference between Christianity and religions of the world has nothing to do with rules. Christians do not have better moral rules than other religions. If you were to strictly follow the teachings of Buddhism or Hinduism, many people would applaud your moral character. However, there is something that Christianity offers that nothing else does. It's very simple. Can you guess? I sure hope so. Are you ready? OK.......... We have Jesus. Christians are not meant to set their eyes upon the Ten Commandments. Did you catch that? If we are living our lives based upon a set of rules we were probably made to memorize at age 6, we don't get it. We are to set our eyes upon the author and perfecter of our faith. For some reason, Jesus gets lost in conversation. Over the next few posts, I hope to explore why this is. I would love input, and I hope we can get this issue tackled.



p.s. - here's a haiku I wrote a while ago, just for fun

Words as art, beauty
flows from the pen majestic.
Hang that on your wall.

I have to think of a title? Crap.

This might be a little easier for me, because I am by nature a very laid-back person (and, by many people's accounts, very boring). However, I still believe it is important. What I am asking is this - slow down a bit. Did you know that one of the leading causes of heart disease in America is high blood pressure? Did you also know that it has been shown that in remote villages around the world, blood pressure is significantly lower than in America? These people have to deal with the stresses of disease, hunger, and wild animals, and their blood pressure is lower! The reason is simple - we move too quickly. In the villages in the middle of the jungle, time is not a factor. There is no rush to be at work, no appointments to keep, things of that sort. General wisdom has always seemed to find a place for a slower pace, from "Be still and know that I am God," to "In stillness the world is restored." In the world today, it is apparently very hard to slow down. I, for one, am a huge advocate of a slower lifestyle. Whether this be due to the blood pressure risks or laziness, I'm not sure yet. What I do know is that the times when I am in the most hurry are usually the times I'm enjoying the little things in life least. And I always try to follow Rule #32 - Enjoy the little things. My name is Caleb Osborne, and I approve this message.

p.s. - I just bought the new Lissie album "Catching a Tiger." I would highly recommend Lissie to anyone and everyone. That is all.

Peace Be the Journey!

Comedian Mitch Hedberg described how he comes up with his material one time - "I sit at my hotel at night and think of something that's funny, then I go get a pen and write it down. Or, if the pen's too far away, I have to convince myself that what I thought of ain't funny." And that more or less sums up why this is my first blog in a long time. But after much nagging from my mom, I decided it was time. I'm at a point in my life where decisions must be made. Not so much "what do you want to eat for supper" decisions, but bigger ones. Now, you have to realize that I am in a place (Troy) that I never expected to be. Or really wanted to be, for that matter. There are often quite large pockets of discontent in my life. It's better than it once was, but the fact remains. I often wonder what my life would be like if I lived in the middle of the mountains, or on the beach (and I don't even like the beach). Or if I had decided to do this or that instead of what I'm doing. Or if I decided to do something to make a lot of money. Or had a really super hot girlfriend. Or if I were some time of extremely popular world leader. Or if I had superpowers. How much better would my life be? Answer - not at all. I have heard before "wherever you go, there you are." Which makes sense. If you go somewhere, you have to be there. Unless you have superpowers that let you separate yourself into separate identities. But on a deeper level, this is the answer to the problem of discontent. No amount of money or natural beauty or any location can change who you are. The spirit of discontent is a dangerous thing. It tricks us into thinking that who we are is determined by where we are or various other factors that really have no effect. To quote John Candy from Cool Runnings, "Derice, a gold medal is a wonderful thing. But if you're not enough without one, you'll never be enough with one." Just a thought that I struggle with. If your situation is determining who you think you are, you don't know who you are.

Newton's First Law of Motion

1) Step by step one goes very far. - Proverb of unknown origin
2) The first step is the hardest. - Marie de Vichy-Chamrond
3) What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step. - C.S. Lewis
4) A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. - Confucius or Lao Tzu, depending on who you ask
5) The vision must be followed by the venture. It is not enough to stare up the steps - we must step up the stairs. - Vance Havner
6) The heights charm us, but the steps do not; with the mountain in our view we love to walk the plains. - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Does there seem to be a common theme here? In high school I was assigned to write a one-page paper on the quote by Marie de Vichy-Chamrond. I don't recall much, but I do remember being extremely proud of my closing line. It was the hook behind the jabs, if you will. More or less, the line was this -"It is not the thousands of steps which tire the legs that are most difficult, but the very first, which taxes the mind and soul." I know, right? I was proud of it. Unfortunately, at the time it was simply a closing line. I didn't understand it. I understood the concept enough to put pen to paper, but the actual truth did not strike me. Now, however, the importance of that first step is all too clear. Without that first step there is no second step, or third, or fourth. There are no steps without the first. I don't believe any of these quotations are referring to literal steps. They are choices, decisions, actions. And you see, once we decide on that first step, the others are sure to follow. No one takes a step north then a step south, then north, then south..... North or south. Those are the options. In our lives, there are certain times when we are faced with decisons and we must take a first step. I fear these first steps more than I fear most things in life. Not only my first steps, but the steps of those around me. These first steps determine the future. Determine joy. Determine pain. Determine life. There is no message to this post. No hook behind the jabs. I just needed this out there.

Stuff

A few weeks ago, I saw someone get stuck with a javelin. He did not get hit. He got stuck. In the spine. The javelin literally stuck almost an inch in his spine and didn't come out until he hit the ground. And guess what? He was perfectly ok. The trainers were checking him out and he was sitting up talking on the phone. As we watched this, a teammate made the offhanded remark "The Big Guy upstairs must be looking out for that guy." I do not think this teammate truly believed that God was watching over this man, or even if he believes in God at all. Which is why his comment was so odd to me. It seems to me that there are certain things in this world that cannot be explained by science or facts or things like that. Some would call it blind luck that this guy didn't die from that javelin, but how many people truly believe in blind luck? It hit me then that even the nonreligious seem to grasp the fact that there is something behind luck, or chance, or whatever. I watched a Richard Dawkins (probably the world's most famous atheist) program recently in which he said that atheism (his form of atheism seems a bit naturalist to me) is the greatest way to appreciate nature. I could not agree less. He admitted that every living thing and many nonliving things have the "appearance" of design, as he calls it. I can't quite understand how someone could see so much "appearance" of design without searching for the creator. For Dawkins, the thing most worthy of worship is natural selection (Romans 1:25). Which to me seems a lot like blind luck. The logistics behind one cell becoming millions of species is incredible. Ten thousand monkeys on a typewriter and all that, maybe. I guess my main point is that there is something within each of us that is crying for the Creator, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. From crediting an unknown "Big Guy" for the life of a man to admiring the beauty of living things, our spirits are constantly crying out for their Lord. It's just sad that some choose to drown out this cry.

Tyler Erwin.

Tyler Erwin was one of the people who convinced me to start writing this blog. Last time I sent him a message about my newest post, he decided to tell me I should write a post about him. And so I am. I'm not going to introduce him because all 5 people that actually read this blog probably already know him. I've known Erwin pretty much my whole life. He is always a source of joy and laughter, without fail. We haven't always seen eye to eye on things, but for whatever reason, I've always felt some sort of indescribable pull torwards him. I can't explain it, but that's the way it is. I remember one time in particular when he said something to me that has meant more to me than almost anything anyone has ever told me. I don't remember the time, or the circumstances, or anything else about the conversation. I can have a terrible memory sometimes. What I do remember about the conversation was that he told me he respected me. I don't even remember doing anything to earn his respect, but it was there. That was the first time I remember being told I was respected. People had always told me I was smart, which is not my fault, or other good things such as being ridiculously good-looking (obviously)... the point is, I realized at that moment that Tyler Erwin respected me. That meant more to me than I can describe with words. I suddenly realized the weight that our actions and words can have on others when we don't even realize. Erwin probably never had any idea how much that meant to me, and he probably doesn't even remember saying it. But I most certainly do. As silly as this sounds, sometimes that statement haunts me when I screw up. I know he isn't watching me and he would forgive me even if I screwed up a million times, but his respect means that much to me. So there you go, Erwin, I wrote about you. Thank you so much. Love you bud.

A day in the life, the life of the grind,

the grind of the Mind, no time to unwind.

Easy chair seat back, body at rest.....

Mind working double, but doin its best

to slow down, but wont let down with the thoughts and the work,

the images, equations, ideas and words.

Can someone please stop this? Its driving me nuts.

Always the volume like a full school bus,

inside my head, just wont let me be.

The blessing and the curse that is being me.

Flip the switch, pull the cord, just do somethin,

so the endless what if's will maybe stop comin,

at least for a second so i can recharge

and stop.






Then maybe I'll rest easy within my mind,

before it starts back up one more time.