"Ballast is what I want, I totter with every breeze." John Adams

In a few weeks I'll be turning twenty six, an age, as my wife so often points out, that will result in my being old (though not as old, as I'm quick to point out, as the twenty seven she'll be turning in a few months...)

Twenty six, while generally glossed over by the the world at large as a brief stopping point between twenty one (legal drinking!) and thirty (adult life begins!) holds special significance to me. Twenty six happens to be age at which Milton wrote the sonnet from which I took the title for my blog (actually many scholars think he wrote it in his forties and my Milton professor was most likely cherry picking his dates to apply the poem to a bunch of college students, but that is neither here nor there).

While twenty six will most likely, statistically speaking, not prove to be the half-way point for my life as it was for so many in Milton's time it does provide for some introspection. I find myself grappling with many of the same issues Milton addressed centuries ago: is that "one talent which is death to hide" being developed or is it "lodged with me useless", have my choices to this point irrevocably closed doors better left open, why am I so often left feeling "light denied"?

Even though easy answers to such questions are not to be had I take solace in Milton's own response. "God doth not need either man's work or his own gifts: Who best bear his mild yoke, they serve him best."

In the 11 (!) months since my last post I've written but not finished a number of posts. At some point I reached the realization that just about anything is better than the gaping hole that is the last 12 months of my blog.

So without further ado: a half finished post from last December. I originally wanted to expound on the usefulness of seeing things from a different perspective but I think I'm just left with a fairly mundane anecdote and a thank you to a great uncle. C'est la vie.

This past week my uncle and I descended into what might be described as a "roiling debate" replete with heated exchanges, shouting, and general argumentation. In fact, we were probably only a few juvenile insults shy of being forcibly restrained by a more settled mind (read: my aunt). As it was we were exiled mid-debate from the fineries of the living-room to the chilly front porch because apparently yelling at someone less than three feet away constitutes "being too loud" (Go figure). I loved every minute of it.

The beauty of the argument for me wasn't in the well-constructed viewpoints or pithy one-liners; rather it was the opportunity to take the "other side" for once. I'm a firm believer in most conservative values and principles. But every so often it's nice to cut loose and let my inner-liberal shine. Let's legalize marijuana, redistribute the wealth, free health care for all, ad infinitum.

There's also something special about having someone with whom you can engage in fiery debate one minute and then casually comment on an upcoming sports game the next with your relationship none the worse for wear. A thousand thank you's to my uncle for filling that role for me.

“What is wonderful about great literature is that it transforms the man who reads it towards the condition of the man who wrote.”

  

Six months later I've finally found (read:made) time for a blog post.  I've false started quite a few times since my last post; drafting is good for the soul but nothing that resulted was deemed post-worthy.  The interwebs are already overrun with posts detailing the corruptness of politicians, the inanity of TV talking heads, or the ever-unstable economy and nothing that was flowing from my proverbial pen seemed more than a carefully worded regurgitation of others' remarks.  Hopefully what follows provides slightly more original food for thought.  Incidentally major spoilers lie ahead for a variety of books, proceed at your own risk...

I've always loved to read.  I'm not entirely certain from whence the attraction arose but throughout my life few things have consistently satisfied like time spent with a good book.  The power of literature to stir emotion and excite imagination is almost unparalleled.  In fact, seventeen years later I can still remember my first visceral reaction to a book.

I was eight years old and the book was Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson.  I remember sobbing in my parents' room after having snuck in to finish the book my mother had been reading to me, only to discover that the wonderful tale of childhood imagination I had been enjoying took a tragic turn in its final pages.  Books were supposed to be safe.  No matter how many times I read "Are You My Mother?" the baby bird always found his mommy but the reunion was never in the jaws of the neighborhood cat, Pop got hopped on but that hopping didn't rupture his kidney, fishes were counted and sorted according to color, not fried in oil while their fishy friends gazed on in horror.

Imagine my horror then upon learning that main characters could die.  And not in the "just wait a few pages, they'll be back" sort of way The Lord of the Rings had taught me.  Leslie was dead, and no amount of wishing could make it otherwise. I was ripped from the nursery and cast into the cold, desolate world of "children's classics".  But amidst my grief there were lessons to be learned.  The hole left by life's partings can be filled, a new queen of Terabithia can be crowned, loss is to be dealt with constructively. Other books followed with equally disturbing moments and equally important lessons: the horrors of racism and the love of family and mankind which can overcome it in Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry and To Kill a Mockingbird, the dangers of a world without creativity and the wonder of a sled ride in The Giver to name just a few.

Those lessons and myriad others have stayed with me long after the final pages were turned.  Great literature, the kind that stretches and challenges our assumptions and world-view, is priceless.  It is that pricelessness which makes me so disconcerted to see "Twilight" and "Harry Potter" listed on many "favorites" lists.  It isn't that such books are "bad", there is just precious little "great" about them.  Long on entertainment, short on substance.  I think about the time I was blessed to spend discussing difficult questions regarding slavery in the post-war South, or mankind's capacity for evil after reading particularly challenging books and worry about a literary generation raised on a steady diet of fluff.

Practically Perfect in Every Way...

Permit me to wax religious for a moment.  Sunday School was good today.  I say this because nestled amidst the all too frequent scripture readathons (most often utilized by underprepared teachers to fill time)  an interesting verse caught my attention.

In Genesis 17:1 the Lord appears to Abraham (Abram) and presents an interesting greeting: "I am the Almighty God; walk before me, and be thou perfect."  LDS culture makes a big deal of this and other similar remarks elsewhere in scripture.  Part of the LDS belief that Godhood is obtainable by even the seemingly lowliest of individuals seems to neccessitate a particularly strong weight to such injunctions.  If we are truly to become like God we too must become perfect.

Until recently I've regarded this scripture as something akin to the parental commandment to "keep thy room clean", a nice thought but a practical impossibility.  A mother admonishes one to clean over and again, not because she actually expects to one day wake up and find the room clean but because she wants to avoid one corner of her house becoming a breeding ground for new and particularly dangerous strains of bacteria.  Sure the room may not be immaculate but the likelihood of a Monsters Inc.-like descent on the house by the CDC is relatively small; mission accomplished.  Similarly, thought I, God can't expect us to completely remove any trace of sin or imperfection from our lives.  Hopefully, however, in reaching for perfection and falling short we avoid the really serious pitfalls in life (drugs, pornography, 80's fashion and hairstyles, etc.). 

Midway through reading Geoff Colvin's Talent is Overrated I'm no longer so certain of my interpretation.  Colvin argues, quite persuasively, that excellence on the level of a Davinci or of a Michael Jordan is not simply an innate characteristic.  Instead, excellence is found through a combination of what he terms "deliberate practice" and hard work.  Most people who appear "above average" in a given area have simply spent more time and sought better guidance (seeking and receiving near constant constructive feedback is crucial) than the average Joe Schmoe.  Unfortunately too many of us see high performing individuals, dimiss their achievements as impossible for us "average folk" and contentedly coalesce back into the couch and warm television glow from whence we came.

Colvin posits that time, desire, and smart work (my term) are the only major barriers between us and some degree of excellence in any given field.  While certain limiting factors do creep in when discussing "best of class" type performances, excellence is achieveable by everyone.

LDS church-goers are notorious for setting high personal standards and asking for a double-helping of guilt when their performance falls short.  "If God wants perfection and I'm not perfect, I must be doing something wrong" seems to be a prevalent personal mantra and a form of spiritual self-flaggelation.    In light of Colvin's book I'd like to suggest what is hopefully a more helpful scriptural interpretation and outlook on life:

Approach imperfections with the knowledge that overcoming them is absolutely necessary but will require a good amount of time and effort.  God promises that he will make our weaknesses into strengths but he's careful not to set a specific time line; chances are it's not happening today, tomorrow, or even next week but it will happen.  Also, realize that God in his omniscience has imposed an incredibly limited timeframe (one lifetime) for us to grow and develop.  God is more than willing to allow us the rest of eternity to iron out personal wrinkles, what he's most interested in is our development of attitudes and habits which allow us to make those first faltering steps down the road to perfection.  Work hard, work smart, and don't sweat the small stuff.

All of this is a long convoluted way of explaining to my wife why I can't seem to squeeze the toothpaste from the right end and probably will never in this lifetime remember to stop leaving fruit snack wrappers throughout the house...

Questions, comments, concerns?

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Angela dragged me to a "cultural event" this evening.  Although I approached the event with my usual chipper demeanor  (somewhere between a cat hissing at a dog and a baby crying), we just got back from Cirque de Chine over at BYU, and I must say it was absolutely ridiculous.

Two words come to mind after such a viewing: inexplicable.  In the amount of time it's taken you to decipher that inexplicable is not, in fact, two words but one, a four foot Chinese girl has already done a double back flip to land on top of a pyramid consisting of twenty of her four foot Chinese girl counterparts.  Meanwhile back at the ranch two of her brethren have been cartwheeling while balancing two stories worth of plates on their respective noses with a straw.  Did I mention this is all taking place on the back of another four foot Chinese girl riding a unicycle on a tight-wire suspended fifteen feet in the air?

I may or may not have descended ever so slightly into hyperbole towards the end there but I think my point is left elucidated. In the words of  Flavor Flav, a personal hero of mine, it was "off the hook".  Hours spent with Glen Beck have taught me to fear these performers; they and their government are methodically taking over our country one treasury bill at a time.  That being said, if village life back in the Han dynasty was really as cool as the Cirque seemed to indicate (apparently that was their inspiration) I say bring on the annexation.

Life in the Mormon Bubble may be slightly anti-climactic at times but it's hard to beat cheap weekly events of this caliber.  Good call Loves.

An essay, by any other name would still be as boring...

An essay on the difference between nudity and pornography I wrote for a Shakespeare and Film class.  This isn't a traditional blogpost so don't feel obligated to read the entire thing, it's more of a way to encapsulate my thoughts at the time (my last year at BYU).  I'd be interested in any thoughts you might have on the subject. 

Looking back on the essay I'm not sure I did the opposing argument justice which more experienced debaters (http://www.jonblogden.com/ for example) would be sure to point out, but it is what it is.

Throughout both modern and ancient history the human nude has been depicted in both pornographic and artistic ways. What exactly divides pornography and art has been a controversial subject for centuries but recently the dividing line has become increasingly blurred. This blurring has originated from the increased availability and commercial appeal of pornography as well as the connected increase in directors and artists willing to sacrifice the integrity of their works by seeking cheap thrills. Ultimately, the artistic use of nudity relies on the nudity to advance key themes and a better understanding of the human condition. The nudity is used as a tool to draw the viewer’s eye and mind not only to a naked body but to a greater understanding of the characters and the issues they face. Pornography by contrast, whether explicit or not, draws attention to itself without passing that attention on. Pornography is the immature dinner guest who can’t allow others to share the spotlight, it’s all about him. By contrast Art is the gracious dinner party host, beautifully dressed but bent on creating new connections for her friends.


In the last fifty years two adaptations of Shakespeare’s plays, Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet and Branagh’s Much Ado About Nothing have been criticized by conservative viewers for their depiction of nudity; Branagh depicts a bathing scene replete with naked soldiers and citizens while Zeffirelli shows two young lovers having just consummated their marriage. The question, then, becomes whether or not the two adaptations are simply a result of Hollywood directors drumming up support for their film by including nudity or whether the inclusion of nudity elucidates themes present in Shakespeare’s works.

Branagh’s Much Ado About Nothing uses the nudity of the early bath scene to set a light tone for what follows as well as to show the removal of social conventions. Although the soldiers have just returned from war, as they strip off their clothes the viewer realizes the film is not overly concerned with their recent triumph. This will not be Othello where the main character’s refusal to remove the trappings and personality of a warrior will lead to his doom. Instead Branagh’s adaptation will be a light-hearted romp. Troubling characteristics of the main characters, such as the ease with which Claudio is convinced of Hero’s promiscuity or Beatrice’s penchant for verbally attacking others, are to be glossed over. While Branagh’s use of nudity may set a tone and help the viewer interpret subsequent scenes Zeffirelli, working almost three decades earlier, surpasses him by harnessing the emotional power of the human nude.

Throughout the beginning of his adaptation Zeffirelli shows Romeo and Juliet in their respective house colors; Juliet wears warm-colored dresses associated with the Capulets while Romeo’s dark blues and greens match the Montagues. As the couple moves away from their respective family loyalties they begin wearing neutral colors, white during the balcony scene and faded pastels during their marriage. A few scenes later that marriage is consummated but Zeffirelli takes great pains to emphasize that the significance of the bedroom scene is not that a Montague and a Capulet have stopped fighting long enough to fall in love.

Rather, Zeffirelli wishes to capture the unabashed humanity intrinsic to Romeo and Juliet’s love. While the earlier white clothing of the lovers’ courtship showed their refusal to accept the reds and greens of societal conflict their nakedness demonstrates that the couple, for a few brief on-screen seconds, are united physically but also by something Zeffirelli considers as innate to them as their own skin, human love. The nudity then is meant to demonstrate the humanity inherent in the innocent coupling of the two teens and the transcendence of their love over social impositions.

This interpretation of the film’s nudity also clarifies a key closing line. After the lovers have died and the humbled houses assemble the Prince remarks that “all are punished”. A cursory viewing might leave the viewer thinking “all” refers merely to the Montagues and Capulets but Zeffirelli’s point is farther reaching. The violence of the houses has not only “killed their joys…” but by denying the lovers those most basic privileges, to love and be loved in return, they have struck a blow to humanity itself. Innocent love, which Zeffirelli has shown to be inextricably tied to our humanity, has been marred; indeed, all are punished.

If social customs and niceties can be put on or off like clothing, what makes us human? Artists such as Zeffirelli deftly answer by bringing out common struggles, emotions and triumphs; at times utilizing human nudity to further accentuate their point. Sadly, few directors make such sophisticated use of nudity in their films. For every Romeo and Juliet there are hundreds of films which crassly commercialize the human form. Perhaps even sadder though is the propensity for well-meaning individuals to attack art for no other reason than the presence of nudity. In the hands of a true artist, nudity can be a tool to help the viewer better understand what it truly means to be human.

"Can't we develop at least one product that isn't used to kill people?"

School is over, for now.  It will be back.  But it's over...for now.  Consequentially I've got a ridiculous amount of free time for blogging, expect at least...two new posts in the next three to four months.

Work has been going well.  In lieu of a lengthy description of my daily responsibilities I'll suffice it to say that I am Ted from "Better Off Ted" in a company with non-evil management and a boss less bent on world domination.  A large transaction (over 100 miiiiillliioonn dollars) is set to close this week.  This is exciting.  More than exciting, however, is the monetary employee compensation which accompanies such a large transaction. 

/Begin Middle Management Rant

Since I only recently joined the company I find myself in the unfortunate position of a stockless spectator as this large transaction closes (boo).  On the upside, my position has provided me an excellent vantage point from which to observe an interesting phenomenon.  A large number of employees, having a significant number of stock options, are presented the opportunity to cash those options in for money.  In the business world this is generally thought of as a "good thing" (for the non-business savvy amongst my readers most things which result in more money in one's pocket usually fall into this category at least for us business types).

Interestingly, however, this sudden influx of cash has not been universally greeted with joy and laughter-making.  Instead, quite a bit of griping has resulted.  How can this be, you ask? Two words: full disclosure.  In most (all?) stock transactions of any size all stockholders must be notified of the size and scope of the pending transaction.  Consequentially all of the participating employees are shown what every one else is to receive. 

Frank isn't making as much as Ted even though Frank is waaaaay more productive (at least in his own mind).  Ted's irritated because he has two more years of work experience but is receiving only twice as much as Fred, iterate ad infinium. To hear some talk you'd think they'd been slapped with $400 speeding ticket of some sort instead of a healthy bonus.  What was wonderful cash compensation only days ago has become an intricate conspiracy reaching to the top tiers of management to defraud hardworking employees out of their rightful rewards.  C.S. Lewis pointed out that pride does not get pleasure from having something, only in having more of something than someone else.  Its twin sister Envy then, has no displeasure in having something, only in having less of something than someone else.

The moral as I see it is simply this:  The initial decision regarding the "fairness" of something should be made in a vacuum (inasmuch as that is possible).  Weigh the pro's and con's on a personal scale without regard to others.  Next, memorialize the decision in some way: write down the conclusion, tell a spouse,etc.  Later, once the inevitable urge to compare has arrived and you're absolutely sure the only reason Betsy is getting more than you is because the boss likes the pink bow Betsy wears to work every day, return to that initial decision and realize that though that may be true your end of the deal is still equitable.

/End Middle Management Rant