Tales from the CART

I ride the CART bus to and from school every day--it's a fun and educational experience. You never know what kind of characters you will meet or observe.

One thing I've noticed is that when passengers make small talk with each other or the driver, they always discuss the weather. I won't be pharisaical--I do it, too. It's easy to discuss the weather in Oklahoma because the weather's so erratic. A typical conversation goes like this:

"Hi, how're ya doin'?"
"Good! Jus' enjoying the weather. I thought it was gonna be so hot today, but the temper'ture dropped to seventy. I jus' wish it would make up its mind!"
*chuckles* "Yeeeah...I tell ya..."

I thought the age-old joke about filling conversation gaps with weather-talk was just that: an age old joke. Even if it wasn't I joke, I was sure it only applied to the British. It turns out that it's surprisingly true here today.

---

On my ride home today, an old man slipped into the seat across the aisle from me. I tapped a text message into my env2 as the bus bumped down Lindsey Street (I was discussing Atticus Finch with Annie). Out of nowhere, the man leaned over with squinted eyes on my phone.

"Is that a...phone?"
"Uh-huh."
"Ah." *nods and turns away*

I conclude that he thought it was a miniature laptop.

           Photo courtesy ActionWireless.com

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I have a dear, elderly bus-driver friend named Tom. When I first met Tom, we exchanged the typical biographical information, and I told him I was from Texas.
He proceeded to say in his thick Oklahoma accent that he "wasn't just saying this because you're from Texas," but in his opinion, the prettiest squirrels come from Texas.
The prettiest what? I cracked up.
He didn't seem to think it a weird or funny statement at all, and began to explain further.
A bit later, I realized he said the prettiest girls, not squirrels.

Mr. Guinness, did you just call that "atrocious?"

I suppose my story about Os Guinness isn't as embarrassing as I thought it was yesterday. In any case, here's what happened.

At the end of the presentation, I stood in line to ask Mr. Guinness about the suffering of believers; that is, how to make sense of long, slow, soul-weathering pain in a person praying earnestly and walking in obedience.

I spread my hands resignedly. "I just don't understand why God would do this."
An affronted look sprang into his eyes, so quickly that I started a little. "No, no. God didn't do this. That's an atrocious view!"
Did the Os Guinness just tell me that my view of God is atrocious?


He went on to explain that God allows pain, but he is not afflicting us with it. Consistent with his character--his complete goodness--he walks with us through the suffering born of three things (a Nietzeschean list, interestingly enough): Our bodies, nature and other men.

Then, he sent me to "talk to Dr. Brown." Like, he really wanted me to talk to the guy. I was so embarrassed, in addition to the fact I don't like being told what to do by a person I don't know. I think I must've turned bright red when I protested weakly and Mr. Guinness offered to introduce me to him.

Flustered, I approached the first doctor-looking guy in the general direction Mr. Guinness pointed out.
"Hi. Are you Dr. Brown?"
The men proceeded to inform me, laughingly, that Dr. Brown was the bald man yonder.

*headdesk*

I've been chewing on the realization that although I've been a Christian about eleven years, I've viewed God as a punisher over the last two years. That approach informed everything I did, right down to my unshakeable and unfulfillable need to always do things "right," no mistakes allowed.

Enlightening, indeed. What kind of beliefs about God do we harbor in our hearts that are contrary to his character as shown in the Bible? It's encouraging, in a way, to know that there is always growth in God--more opportunities to see how wide and deep and high is his love. Lately, I've questioned many things about the character of God. I almost feel guilty for asking questions in the first place, but many people I admire and trust have told me questions are normal and okay. God can handle our questions and misconceptions. Unlike me, he's not an easily offended human...

Until next time, dear reader. I hope this little anecdote afforded you a bit of entertainment. If you're reading this in the morning, have a beautiful day, and if you're reading this at night, have a restful night.

If you're reading this in the afternoon, well, I'm sorry--there's nothing I can do for you.

Side note.

An updated look for Refining Process is in the works! Stay tuned.

Os Guinness Spoke at OU this evening. I embarrassed myself again. How do I always manage to do that?

I'm kind of mad today because I just don't get people.
(This has nothing to do with Chris, by the way, just so we get that clear)
Then I'm reminded I'm exactly like them, with the same inexplicable mean, harsh, frustrating issues.
Anyhoo. I shouldn't write anymore because I don't like having to bite my tongue.

This post will self-destruct (read: will be deleted) in a few days to make way for the full Krycho update.

Until then, I'm going to try to get my anger under control and take a moment to laugh off some tension.

The Publication of my Passion

Seeing something you love come to fruition is an amazing thing.

Today was a "minor momentousness" in my writing career (phrase courtesy Cheston Knapp - I don't want him to sue me for copyright infringement). Actually, this whole week was  momentous for me.

On Thursday, renowned science-fiction author Greg Bear spoke at OU, which of course made me little starstruck. He gave us zealous PW kids the opportunity to ask him questions. Because Mel (my writing professor/mentor, if you recall) recently told me that the market for dystopias--the story type I gravitate toward--is poor, I asked Mr. Bear his opinion of them.

He told me to find something that concerns me in society, make "a fantastic metaphor" out of it, then take it to the extreme. 

"Is that how you write your dystopias?"

Whoa, he totally just spoke to me! "Uh...I certainly try (or did I say, 'I sure hope so?')!"

He proceeded to ask me what I saw in society worth commenting on. Trust me, that spotlight was the last thing I was expecting, and to be honest, it was quite terrifying. I don't do well when questioned on the spot. It usually drags all the leftover stutters out of me.

I told Mr. Bear that I dislike how strongly individualistic this culture is. People often hone in on their own lives and try to make something of themselves at the cost of relationships.

"That's a good insight. That's something I've been seeing, too, in the last twenty or so years."

Wow, okay! I can deal with that! I blurted out my happiness. "That's encouraging!"

He went on to quote Ray Bradbury as a means of charging me to keep writing about the things I care about, regardless of the great and terrible "market": "If they give you lined paper write the other way" (Fahrenheit 451).

Furthermore, I finished my first full-length dystopia today! It grew from 4000 words to 10,000. You must understand, this is the first self-initiated writing project I've ever finished, which makes it a very big deal to me.

With this small thrill of victory still buzzing in my head, I received an email from the editor of A Daughter's Story.  She and I have been in touch because she chose one of my short stories for the anthology. 

She said that the book will be published by Mother's Day! We'll receive two copies, as well as a media packet so we can spread the word, by mail. This fabulous woman has plans to travel to all the "big markets"--New York, Cali, Chicago, etc.--to make A Daughter's Story as visible as possible, promos including pretty neat things like a commercial and a morning show stint.

I don't expect that this publication will launch my career into the stars. I am content with the personal fulfillment...and heady possibilities.

I sometimes wonder how God could grant me a gift that I love so much, as well as allow me to use it over and over. Is His call always this deeply joyful? 

Behold the beautiful details of His plan: I have seen life pour back into my heart this semester when I started writing stories again.