Chicken, Anyone?

This will come as news to no one who actually knows me, but I have a very spiteful nature.  I blame it on a combination of Irish-Italian heritage and being a middle child.  The Irish are known for their tempers, the Italian for holding grudges and getting even, and middle children for being screwed up after years of being overlooked.  Sound like anyone you know?

This spiteful nature influences my behavior is ways that I have no desire to correct.  Case in point, it is spite that keeps me from ever wanting to touch the book "50 Shade of Gray".  I am sick to death of hearing about it and seeing it everywhere I turn.  Spite is what keeps me from ever wanting to see "The Avengers" because the hype surrounding its release was stupid crazy.  I point the finger at spite again for having not talked to my dad in 2 years.  (See older blog for that explanation.)

My latest spiteful stance is on this Chick-fil-A hoopla.  And it has nothing to do with the fact that they have come out very vocally opposing same-sex marriage.  Though, I will go on record to say that in this nation, where we have made it such a point to drawn a hard line in the separation of church and state, the majority of our population no longer sees marriage as a covenant before God, but as a legally binding contract.  Thus, same-sex unions should not be a matter for the church to decide.  Why should the church decide who gets to benefit from legal unions?  For decades, the American people have been shoving God and His law out of our government and its law, but all of a sudden it's OK to wield the Bible on this one lone issue?  I don't think so, folks.  Getting off the soap box now and back to the spite.

Admittedly, Chick-fil-A has never been a fast-food joint that is on my radar.  I've known that it is a Christian-run organization, and that aspect did always hold a little appeal for me.  I've just never been all that impressed by their product.  And they're not exactly on every corner like some other places.  Now, with this latest political-announcement-turned-biggest-advertisement-ever, they are on EVERYONE'S radar.  And I am sick to death of hearing about it.  Fine, you publicly announce that you oppose same-sex marriage.  Can we move on now?  Of course, a major role in the dragging out of this hoopla is being played by those advocates FOR same-sex unions.  Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if I'd heard that a Christian couple decided to hold their ceremony inside a Chick-fil-A to show their support while at the same time a homosexual couple had their ceremony in the parking lot to show their protest.  I can't turn around without hearing something about Chick-fil-A.

So, not ever really eating there before, I don't have any more of a desire to eat there now.  But it has nothing to do with my religious or political opinions.  Some of it has to do with my particular tastes for food.  But now, it has so much more to do with spite.

Comp111 Essay 2

This is my school project for anyone interested in reading it.  Constructive criticism is always welcome.


 

A group of teens sits around a large table with books, manuals, papers and dice strewn before them. Maybe a few pizza boxes and drink cans add to the clutter. One of the teens acts as a mediator, reading from a manual and giving directions and choices to the rest of the group. Another teen replies and rolls a many-sided die. Eruptions of hoots and hollers follow.  Scribbling on the paper and rearrangement of figurines ensue in a flurry of activity. From such humble beginnings, a universe would be created.

            In 1974, the pen-and-paper (PnP) roll-playing game Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) was created as a means for people to interact in fantasy settings that could not be found in the real world (Hope). Thirty years ago, role-playing games were played live and in-person with a defined group of fellow gamers. Each participant took on a specific type of character and role, rolled dice to determine strengths and casualty, and utilized a bound hard-copy manual to guide play. The character creation was just as important and almost as much fun as playing the game itself, and therefore took time and consideration. One player was designated the Dungeon Master (DM) and ultimately guided the course of the game. The other players pulled together to work for the common good while at the same time strived to enhance their own individual characters. A roll of the die determined the chance outcome of the current encounter. The plot consisted of traps, twists, turns, battles, magic, monsters, dungeons, treasure and all things fantastical.

            Fast-forward 20 years. By the mid-1990’s, role-playing games had transitioned from old-fashioned PnP into the digital era as videogames. The landscape of the virtual world provided the fantasy setting gamers once only imagined, and the flesh-and-blood DM had been replaced by a computer controlled guide created by the games designers. Rolls of the dice were replaced by clicks of the mouse, but the outcomes were still up to chance. Though not a role-playing game, the release of the wildly popular Doom in 1992 sparked the flame of networked multiplayer game play on college campuses and other entities where networked systems already existed  (King and Borland). Removal of internet restrictions in 1995 brought multiplayer games online and allowed gamers from the world over to come together and join in common play (Gupta). What was once a relatively small gathering of buddies spending an afternoon huddled around a table had morphed into millions of players spending countless hours huddled around their keyboards at the larger “table” of the world wide web.

            With another 20-year leap, online gaming has become an all-in-one form of entertainment, overshadowing music, movies, and TV shows. Major advancements in graphics, especially 3-D, the ability to create individualized characters, and the continual one-ups-manship of developers in plot development have solidly gripped the gaming world. Videogame launches now bring in higher first-day revenue than the latest and greatest movies. While it is viewed as more of pastime in the states, online gaming has become a professional sport in Korea (Ming). Developers have successfully married the multiplayer functionality of the original Doom and the individualized choose-your-own -adventure aspect of PnP D&D, and massively multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPG) have caught on like wildfire. The spark lit on college campuses and corporate networks has been fanned into a flame that has engulfed the gaming community at large.

            Interestingly, what began as a mostly select grouping of like-minded young adult players has become a true melting pot of diversity. Students from grade school to grad school, dropouts, the unemployed, high powered CEOs, at-home parents, scholars, pastors, doctors, and lawyers have all been known to play. This leveling of the playing field is satirically portrayed in the web-series The Guild, which follows the real-life interactions of an online group of players via “the game”. The Guild mocks the stereotypes that surround obsessive online gamers using characters across all spectrums of life. The main character around which the series revolves is a young woman who uses her web-cam to narrate the happenings of her real life and that of her gaming group. Secondary characters include an older, unemployed recluse of a man who lives mostly in this virtual world, a stifled at-home mom who uses gaming as her escape from real life, a college-aged techno-dependent girl who is never seen without some electronic devise at her fingertips, a jobless young man who has a history of falling for his online relationships, and an ego-driven teenage boy. This motley crew shows that the gaming world bears no prejudices, the online world is truly “come as you are”, and both have powerful attracting qualities.

            What draws so many different types of people to this common realm? What is it about the online gaming world that has caused it to explode into the mega-money-making business it has become? Why do videogame sales now outrank those of movies, books, and other playthings? Why have we become so fascinated by this world that a web-series has been created around it? How has it come to be that many people feel more comfortable in the virtual world than in the real one?

            The resounding answer to all of these questions is “community”. In one way or another, gamers who play MMORPGs do so for the sense of community. Many of today’s most avid role-playing gamers found that first taste of community in the old days of pen-and-paper D&D, including Richard Garriot, a heavyweight in the earliest days of videogame programming.  Garriot was introduced to the highly interactive role-playing game in1977 while attending a computer camp at Oklahoma University. From that point on, Garriot strived to recreate that sense of community in the computer world (King and Borland). Many others are drawn to online games as a means of staying connected to friends as life moves them on (Reinicke). The younger generation of gamers find the virtual world a much more desirable and comfortable social hangout than the real world (Boyer).

            Community. We are all searching for the sense of connectedness to people like ourselves, those who have a common interest. As unlikely as this common ground may seem, the virtual world of online gaming has a definite community. And with community comes culture. The culture of the online gaming world is diverse in form, yet common in theme – people brought together for the social interaction of playing together. This sounds much like a small child’s real-world playground. Come on, let’s go play.

Just Call Me Bessie

Bull in a China shop.  That pretty much sums me up.  I am not know for subtlety or gentleness, but I am know for the occasional rampage.

I seem to be a destroyer of things ~ most notably vehicles.  I am vehicle hospice.  Cars come to me to die.  In the last 3 years I have blown engines in 2 vans an wrecked and SUV.  I dropped my truck off at the mechanic once to have the oil changed and when I walked in he said, "Oh.  I didn't know you were here yet.  I didn't hear a tow truck."  True story.  Thanks Tim.  Another time I picked the truck up after a major repair and ran into the mechanics wife, whom I've known longer than the mechanic.  As we chatted, she said her first thought upon hearing that my vehicle had arrived was, "Woohoo!!  We're headed to Hawaii!"  She was joking, but only just barely.  True story.  Thanks Laurie.

A lesser admirable notoriety is my seemingly wanton destruction of relationships and other people's self esteem.  I have a habit of biting my tongue only until it bleeds, and once I start to choke, I spew blood everywhere.  Here's a perfect example.  Several years ago, when Josh was a youth pastor, an event was planned that needed to be drastically cut back in the 11th hour due to lack of adult volunteers.  He received a message at literally the last minute from a just-graduated-high-school leader that she was "disappointed" that the event was cut back and therefor would not be joining us at all, meaning that her younger brother, one of the youth kids, would also be missing out.

I really should mention that this person had unintentionally rubbed me the wrong way for quite some time before this.  Many, many, many times I have needed to remind myself that she was very young, and in many ways an incredibly naive and sheltered child.  Even still, her views of reality seemed to be to take on an almost fictional utopian extreme.  Having been raised in a city with huge Mafia influence, growing up with alcoholics, and having a history of molestation, my view of reality might also be somewhat tainted, but in the opposite direction.  Thus, I don't usually have tons of patience for people who have no real clue.

At any rate, I told this person what I wanted to tell them.  And probably not in the most Christian manner.  The result of this little spat was that the entire family walked away from the church we attended at the time.  A while later, while involved in an email "discussion" with the church's pastor, in which I was letting him know what I thought about a few things, he reminded me that I am not the kindest person with my words.  True.  I am aware of this, and working toward improving.  But I have never been a fan of sugar-coating ~ giving or receiving.  I told this pastor that I believed one of my strengths was having the courage to say what other people won't, though, I certainly needed to fine tune the delivery.  And there went another bridge smoldering to the bottom of the ravine.

Most recently, I have been unfriended on FB because of a comment.  The unfriending doesn't bother me.  People disappear from my friends list all the time without me having any idea why, but hey, it's FB ~ big deal.  The reason for the unfriending is irritating, but hey, it's FB ~ big deal.  This person caused our family quite a bit of chaos and inconvenience earlier this year, and we did everything we could to help him put life back together.  A few months later, he was back on his destructive path, and posting things here and there that alluded to the activities.  So I called him out on it.  And he unfriended me.  He told my husband that he did it because of the comment I'd left.  I then asked if he'd unfriended the other chic who also made a comment to the same end.  Of course, he hadn't.  So once again, I have verbally slapped around yet another unsuspecting and tortured soul, apparently, according to some, only to entertain myself.

I don't say all of this to imply that I am proud of this behavior.  It's more of a confession than boast.  James 3:10 says, "Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be."  James must have looked 2000 years into the future, seen how I behave and thought, "Oh no.  We need to nip this one in the bud."  I seem to embody this verse.  Unfortunately, I am more known for the cursing than the praise, the rampage through the China shop than window shopping.

He Did It Again

I'm training for a 10k.  Actually, I'm training for a 1/4 marathon, which is .5 miles longer than a 10k, but I digress.  I'm training for a 10k.  And with power outages, a dead treadmill, and 100+ temps, training has been interesting to say the least.

I have been running outside recently ~ mostly due to necessity.  But also because I love it.  Some views simply cannot be witnessed from the platform of a treadmill ~ the beauty of a sunrise or set, the carnage of a vicious storm, or turkeys on the trail.  Though I prefer the solitude of running alone, it is impossible to avoid others on a public trail.  This has more to do with being self-conscious than being anti-social.  I'm chubby, only moderately speedy, and graceless as a runner ~ don't really want to force that visual on the rest of the world.  Yet, every now and then, I am reminded that people who do take note of me often do it for good reason.

Westerville Athletic Complex has a fairly flat 1.3(ish) mile loop that encircles several soccer playing fields.  Every field was in use, mostly by women's teams.  As they were finishing up, the men were arriving.  Other runners, walkers, and parents pushing strollers or pulling wagons were out enjoying the evening.  As I ran in one direction around the loop, there were a couple of older African gentlemen walking the opposite direction.  We met on several occasions on our jaunts around the loop.

My running schedule has me at 4(ish) miles right now, so my goal was 3 laps plus an extra leg to make up the difference.  Coming to the end of lap 2, my hip was catching and my knee was pulsing (forgot to tape them today.)  Half of the loop was in full-sun on this 88F evening and the half in the shade greeted me with opposing wind.  Commence, once again, with the mental pep-talk.  Pushing through, I began the third and final lap.  It was here, about a third of the way into the third loop, that I met these gentlemen once again.  As I approached, they clapped and cheered me on, as if I were running a true race.  I jokingly, though appreciatively, bowed (very quickly as I continued to jog by) and said, "Thank you, thank you."

Once again, God showed up.  Had I talked myself out of completing my plan I would not have met these men one last time, and I would have missed the cheer from complete strangers.  That cheer is what kept me going, pushing myself to the last marker, where, ironically, the gentlemen had also reached their destination as coaches of one of the men's soccer teams.  God is so good!

Morning Run as Lesson in Humility

A long-time t-ball and softball player, my career was curtailed in 8th grade when I suffered what we thought was a severely sprained right knee.  I found out 20 years later that I had been misdiagnosed and really suffered from Osgood Schlatters syndrome, a tendon tracking condition in which the knee-cap will slip out of the groove created for it by the junction of the thigh and shin bones.  This condition is not correctable, though there are precautionary measures that can control symptoms.

In my 20's, I was in a physical altercation, and a hard shove resulted in my thigh bone slamming hard against my shin bone, causing the shin bone to split down the middle about 3/4" and crushing cartilage ~ in my left knee.

With 2 bum knees, it has been recommended by more than one physician that I give up running.  Combine this with the fact that I have rotated hips, and running is probably not the best choice of aerobic activity for me.

Yet, I stubbornly keep running.

And here's why.

Our very old, hand-me-down treadmill gave up the ghost this weekend, so until we can afford to replace it we run outside.  This morning, I went to the Westerville Athletic Complex, which has a 1.3(ish) mile paved multi-purpose trail.  One rule I adhere to without fail is that I CANNOT run on concrete, as this will totally blow out my knees, so I look for paved or dirt paths. 

My goal this morning was 3 laps, putting me close to the 4 mile mark.  Very early on in my trek, I made a mental note that this path receives full sun before the evening hours, and was grateful that the day's weather was very mild for June.  Next mental note to self ~ choose direction wisely.  One leg of the loop is tucked against a tree line, which blocks wind.  The leg directly opposite parallels one of Westerville's main drags, making it a virtual wind tunnel.  This morning, I was against the wind.  No worries, I thought, I could use the challenge.

The first 2 laps were great!  I was parched by that point, so I stopped momentarily at the car for a hydration break, and set back to the last loop, feeling already accomplished and determined to finish strong.  By the time I rounded the corner to the aforementioned "wind tunnel", my throat was dry and I was fighting to keep my breathing even.  The knees were holding up great, thanks in part to the Kinesio tape holding the caps in place, but the hip was starting to catch, and the discomfort was doing its best to convince me to slow down and walk the homestretch.

Let the self-pep-talks commence.  "Girl, you did not just run 3+ miles to WALK across the finish line!  You have a strong, healthy body and you can do this.  Just make it to that marker.  Now just make it to THAT marker.  See, you're almost there!"  Finally, I rounded the last turn and convinced myself that this last leg was the shortest.  I had probably done 3.5 miles by that point, so I could walk to the car from here.  NO!  I had not come this far to give up with the finish in sight.

Then I saw him.  In a grassy patch in front of my car, so I couldn't help but see him.  A man in a recumbent bike that was being safety checked by another older man.  I knew immediately that the man in the bike was a paraplegic, and the older man was more than likely his father, helping him set up for a morning ride. 

There I was, feeling the need to convince myself that my legs were strong enough to finish this race, and this man was beginning his own race without the use of legs at all.  As I was arguing with myself to finish strong, the look on this man's face told me that for him, there was no other option.  This man unknowingly was my inspiration to stop the self-pity party and "git r done".

I finished 3.7 miles in 38 minutes, albeit huffing and puffing and with an ache in my hip, but so much stronger and thoroughly blessed for it.  God slammed into me like a ton of bricks this morning, using this man to remind me that in spite of my own very real physical limitations, He has blessed me with a strong body that is really only limited by my state of mind.  Just being on the path this morning, doing something he probably does often enough that it is nothing extraordinary, this man truly blessed me, and had he not looked so determined in his purpose and been wearing ear-buds I would have told him so.  I love it when God uses people without them even knowing it to remind me that as His child I can finish the race.

Intro to Self ~ A Potential Essay Assignment

The following is a potential essay assignment posted for constructive critical review.  We are asked to describe ourselves as readers/writers.  Please comment if there are any language or grammatical errors, or, if you know me well enough, any suggestions.  Yes, this is for a college English course and my OCD is taking over.

Ariel Boyer:  Author and Random Book Enthusiast

I am a schizophrenic reader.  Topics of interest are often inconsistent and based solely on the mood of the day.  At times, the entire focus of reading is for the gain of knowledge, such as when my son was diagnosed with an obscure endocrine condition and I researched as much information as was available.   When reading is for pleasure, I cover a broad spectrum, from Dan Brown to Janet Evanovich, Christianity to Buddhism, irreverent fiction to snarky autobiographies.  In the last year, my book list has included “Pagan Christianity”, “Arguing with Myselves” (an autobiography by a ventriloquist), and “Assassination Vacation”.  My nightly devotion is often immediately followed by mindless comic strip collection books.

As a young reader, and life-long insomniac, I could stay awake all night devouring a good book.  High school reading, on the other hand, was torture due to a mild case of dyslexia.  Required reading never went well because of the strict timeline and the fact that more often than not the chosen book was of little to no interest to me.  Not a fan of the classics, “Watership Down”, for example, was particularly difficult as I simply could not get into a book that used a group of bunnies to illustrate the hardships of communism.  As an adult college student, required reading is still difficult, but I have usually chosen the subject, making task less painful.

The chaos that is my life does not easily lend itself to quiet time for reading or writing.  Time dedicated to such activities is usually restricted to times of waiting for the next demand of schedule – waiting rooms at doctors’ offices, waiting for my children to finish practice, waiting to fall asleep during an insomniac attack – or when anticipated and planned, such as a long bath or on the deck by the fire.

As a writer, I stick to the adage “write what you know”.  I do not so much journal as vent, not so much memoir as decompress.  Most of my writing is personal interpretation of life events, composed with a dash of humor and a pinch of wit.  Though, sometimes I shake up the recipe by substituting a dash of frustration and pinch of spite.  I do not consider myself to be especially creative or unique in idea, so fictional writing has never been of interest.  Life, however, fascinates me, and provides more than ample stranger-than-fiction material.

 Blogging is the outlet for my observations, vents and frustrations, and revelations to be unleashed to the curious reading world.  It is also incredibly therapeutic, as it lets me work through and organize the thoughts swimming around in my head.  When a situation seems to be getting the better of me, constantly nagging and refusing to quiet in my thoughts, blogging lets my mind sort through the jumble and reach some semblance of closure.

Generally, I enjoy reading on my own terms, and writing provides therapy more versatile and less costly than seeing a psychiatrist.

Revelation: Healing Hands

I believe in miracles.  Not just the ones that occur everyday ~ the creation of new life, the survival of teenagers, and the like ~ but the more magnificent as well ~ the terminal cancer patient's spontaneous recovery, the survival of teenagers, and the like.

Hand in hand with this, I believe in the spiritual gifts as made known in 1 Corinthians.  Admittedly, it has taken quite some time to accept the existence of these supernatural gifts, and even more time to move beyond being freaked out by the witnessing of some of the more extraordinary gifts (speaking in tongues, for example.)  But I have no doubt that believers have been endowed with individual spiritual gifting.  I do, however, doubt my own endowment.

As a massage therapist, I touch and facilitate the betterment and well-being of people every day.  I believe that I have been gifted with the innate ability to encourage a body to release stress, be comforted, and move toward healing itself through truly caring touch.  This is not the spiritual gift of healing.  My husband, by contrast, believes wholeheartedly that God had bestowed on me the gift of healing, but I have yet to fully embrace it.

Always, I have shrugged off my husband's conviction, claiming that I don't work miracles, I only do the best I can with what I'm given.  I do believe that on occasion, God has used me to administer a miraculous healing, but that does not prove possession of the spiritual gift ~ it only means that in that moment and for that body, He saw fit to work His miracle through me.  According to my husband, these are glimpses of the grander gift that I, for whatever reason, refuse to fully unwrap and recognize.

And then, I had an epiphany.

At Bible study, one of our group was dealing with serious hip pain, and it was suggested that the group pray over her for healing.  I put one hand on her hip, but said nothing audible as far as prayer.  As I sat there, hand on hip, silently praying, my mind began to wander (a common occurrence for this ADHD girl), and though the thoughts that came to mind had nothing to do with the immediate situation, they were enlightening, nonetheless.  When outward prayer concluded, and our "patient" was asked how she was feeling, she commented on how hot my hand had become.  I explained that heat exchange is a normal occurrence in body work, but she claimed that my hand had gotten much hotter than the others touching her during prayer.  This opened the door to my husband's soap box and led to discussion of my untapped spiritual gift.  When the group dispersed, I explained to my husband my revelation.

God has indeed blessed me with the spiritual gift of healing.  But I am unable to let the supernatural gift work through me.

And here's why.

Head knowledge.

Yes, academic, scholastic learning has hindered my ability to recognize the possibility of the miraculous.

Here is a perfect example.  During a recent women's conference, a video was shown of a women with an obviously short leg.  The shot was of her feet, one visibly higher than then other, being held by a small group leader who prayed only that she would know Christ's love ~ he hadn't specifically prayed for healing of any kind, only that she would know and feel Him.  Over a period of several seconds, we watched in awe as the higher foot dropped and eventually came even with the other.  Everyone in the video, and in the room with me, gasped and applauded the goodness of God's miraculous, healing grace...as I sat there physiologically analyzing and justifying what had happened.  "Maybe he was applying enough of a pull to her leg to release the soft tissue that had caused her hips to rotate and give the illusion that one leg was shorter."

Really?

This is what I do all the time.  The acquired book knowledge has me searching for a logical, anatomical, physiological explanation ~ and when one can't be found, I chalk it up to my own insufficient worldly knowledge.  I simply do not consider that the seemingly unexplainable connections could possibly be the divine at work.  What's worse is that even though I now recognize the stumbling block, I have no idea how to remove it.  How does one, to quote Yoda, "unlearn what you have learned"?

Thus, the battle for control of my healing ability rages.  And for the time being, academia has the stronger footing.  Reliance on book knowledge has served well over the years and, out of habit, is my first resource.  Unfortunately, it remains the only resource as I struggle to remember to consider that there is another greater resource more immediately available.