Not perfect at all

“Please spare me from the green vegetables.” That kind of attitude would not fly at all at one of St Teresa’s convents, I dare say. But it would fly like a wind in my home, where green vegetables are as common as gold coins. 

Contrary to what you may think from my journal, I am actually not perfect. This becomes particularly clear to me when I read St Teresa of Avila, this time her book The Way of Perfection. Unlike her Life and Interior Castle, this one seems to not be written with a clear progression toward more and more inner purity. It is more of a guidebook for her nuns, on how to live in the convent. So I think I should be able to get through this one, without coming to a point where I feel I am cheating by looking at a holiness that is so far ahead of me that I should not even be able to see it.

That said, the contrast between me and what she expected from her nuns is pretty damning. They were to live in such poverty that while she did not expect them to starve to death, she reminded them that if they did, it would be acceptable. After all, they lived for Christ who died for them, and if they had to die for him as well, it would not be a big deal.

The purity and selflessness she expected from these people is really shaming me, who at this time of my life still have hobbies.  They may be nice hobbies, but you really cannot fit that into the “way of perfection”. I assume even today, monks and nuns live a life of complete selfless devotion to God and their fellow humans, taking no time to indulge or even pay attention to their own interests. Living a life as God’s finger on Earth. That’s not how I live at all. Sure, I want to serve the Light, but it is more like having a job that interests you I guess. An employee is partly free, even if he thinks about his job a lot. A slave has no life of his own. He is at work even when sleeping.

St Teresa and her nuns (at least if they lived up to her expectations) were thralls of God’s love.  They had nothing else to do, no other goals than to serve their Lord. That may indeed be the way of perfection. But it is not how I currently live. I try to serve God in my way, and they in His.

I use to read a little in the book each day on the commute bus. (It’s on my Galaxy Note, so no one can see the title.) It may take a long time getting through it this way, but that is OK. I am not so much looking for revolutionary new information, as to be reminded over and over how far I am from perfection. Because, as I am sure my readers can notice if they will, it is entirely too easy for me to preen in my advanced knowledge and tuck away my imperfect life where you can’t see it.

Cute hiragana practice game

Darugo’s Hiragana Practice.

There are three versions of this game: One on the web (for free), one without sound for Android phones and tablets (also free), and one with sound also for Android (cheap). I have downloaded and tested the free version for Android. So far it works flawlessly on my Samsung Galaxy Note, which is something in between a phone and a tablet. I can imagine it being hard to draw on a small phone or a bigger tablet, but on large phones and the Note it works quite well.

The game lets you choose any of the hiragana (Japanese letters that stand for a syllable instead of a letter, such as “ha” or “chi”. Some syllables are just one letter, namely vowels and the letter “n”.) Once you have chosen one such letter, the program demonstrates how to draw it. Each letter is drawn in a particular sequence. Even if you make the final result look just right, it is supposedly considered a severe breach of etiquette to draw the parts in the wrong order. With calligraphy, an educated person can see this at a glance, so children are drilled to get it right.

After the demonstration, you get to trace the letter with your finger (or a pen, in the case of Galaxy Note) as long as you want. The program shows your lines in a different color than the outline of the letter, so you can see whether they match. You erase it between each time. When you feel confident enough to draw it, you get a blank page to draw it on. Well, more like a grid, but without letters. The program then checks that it falls within acceptable bounds. You can repeat this as well.

There is also an example word for each sign, with a cute childlike drawing. This is presented as the “backside of the card” so you don’t look at it while you are drawing. If you have the paid version of the app, you can hear the word spoken by a real Japanese girl. Or so it is said. I would not know. With there still being millions of Japanese girls, it does not seem impossible to get one to speak a few dozen words.

And this, dear reader, is where things get weird. This is a super cute app, and eminently suited for children in both its presentation and its basic task. It seems extremely child-friendly. But outside of Japan there are probably very few children who feel the need to draw hiragana, or even read them. Which makes me wonder if the app – or at least the one with sound – is aimed at some kind of pervert who gets ticklish all over at the sight of severely underage kids dancing and waving and saying cute things in genuine Japanese. There are rumored to be weirdos like that. Well, I suppose this is one of the more harmless things you can do if you have this mind defect. As long as it does not cause you to capture real Japanese girls and force them to draw hiragana. (Not counting school teachers, who are paid to do this.)

Anti-temptation of silence

"The silence is killing me"

“The silence is killing me” is the usual feeling among humans, so of course with me the opposite must be true: The silence is giving me life. But is that what I really want? I have to wonder…

You know that people have temptations, in which they are pulled toward something they expect to be pleasurable but their conscience says is bad. Light knows I have had plenty of that in my life, and almost certainly will continue to have for as long as I live.

But this is the opposite. A temptation toward something that is not fun but which appears to me as good and pure and praiseworthy. Unsurprisingly, such temptations are quite easy to resist.

The temptation started after I had gone through my archive removing buttpics. I had left some page (without said pictures) open, and looking at a nearby entry I saw my imagination of what my day would have been if it had been 1958 instead of 2008.  One conclusion was that without computers and Internet, I would have spent quite a bit more time reading, writing, and praying.  At least that is what I think now that I do have computers and Internet. But I also seem to remember that I did, in fact, do more of all these when I was young, before I became connected to the world via an AORTA – Always Online Real-Time Access.

The Christian Church of Brunstad, back in the days when it was even purer and more innocent than today, had a story circulating. I think it may not even have been one of the Friends it happened to, but perhaps some other serious Christian, of which there were perhaps more back then. A Christian man was buying a TV for the first time, when he saw the following text on the packaging: “Jetzt kommt die Welt ins Haus!” (Now comes the World into the house!) Immediately he realized the errors of his ways and undid the purchase.

It bears mention that the TV is now the rule rather than the exception in the Christian Church. Whereas in my home there is no TV, nor do I expect there to every be. Of course, I have the Internet, which is less brain-numbing but quite distracting.

So what I have been thinking since, is that perhaps I should try to establish a “computer-free zone” of time, perhaps on the Sabbath until sundown or something? First just to see for real what I would do. Would I actually spend more time reading and praying? Not writing, probably, since my manual typewriter eventually made it to its final resting place during one of the last couple moves. But my book backlog is still growing and could need some extra hours. Of course, reading the kind of books I usually do would probably inspire me to write. A lot. Still, it would probably be better than playing The Sims yet again. Not that there is anything outright evil about The Sims. But sometimes, not being evil is not enough.  Or so I am anti-tempted to think.

Less playful?

I wonder if this is the image I project these days?

It is not just the buttpics that seem out of place. Reading some of my old attempts at novels, I can’t help but think they are less decent than I would like to write now.

On the other hand, they are a lot more fun to read. The indecency, such as it is, is mostly humorous and pretty harmless by modern standards. (Although by the standards of St Teresa, it is probably extremely sinful and would cause her to pray loudly for my soul for many hours, if she thought it could be saved at all. Actually I have known some people like that. They belonged to the Christian Church popularly called “Smith’s Friends”. I would not be surprised if they were actually saints too.)

Anyway, the wardrobe malfunctions and misunderstood double entendres are only a small part of what makes these writings fun. The best part is the dialog, which is probably subconsciously inspired by my own childhood. The rapid, deadpan banter between us boys was amazing and hilarious, and even now in our adult life we can impress people with our improvised comedy show when we get together.  I can’t say I have seen or heard anything like it, although some Japanese comedy comes pretty close. So that is something I like to weave into my stories. Or liked to.

I am not sure I can do that anymore. Reading it, I feel like I could not possibly write anything like this again. The playful “voices in my head” – inspirations, though-clusters – have largely moved out and given room for more mature, wise, spiritual voices. OK, “more” does not really say much in this context. But anyway, I am not sure I can be funny anymore.

I may have grown up, finally. Except I still play either Sims 2 or 3 pretty much every day. And sometimes even City of Heroes. There is a new “Issue” – a free expansion – rolling out in the coming week. Belatedly it introduced soloing Incarnate (endgame) content. When I heard of it, I thought: ‘Too bad they didn’t do that before I started taking my life more seriously.’ I would probably have played it day and night, even a couple years ago.

Ah, I wonder who I will be in the future, if any. Probably not a comedian, but there are other forms of happiness. I hope I can find some way to share those.

No more buttpics

After conferring with God, I have gone through the archives and removed almost all the buttpics. I think I got nearly all the photos, there are a couple mostly blurry pictures from games and such left. These photos served their role in the past, but they are not fitting now. And I need to be merciful to people who may be sexually affected by butts. It happens, and they should not be needlessly dragged into temptation when coming to a place like this. I have to become more merciful over time. That is the way.

The pictures are still there, I only added a .b at the end of the filename, so historians of the future can still find them if they deem it important. Somehow I don’t think so, though.

(And before new readers let their imagination run wild, there was always some degree of clothing. Usually day clothes.)