Friday, December 15, 2006
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
Scottish Drinking Song at the Iron Post
Tonight I went to the Iron Post for a Champaign-Urbana Storytelling Guild fundraiser for Habitat for Humanity. Some of the storytellers were quite entertaining, but if they left me bored at all, they lost me, because the Illinois game was playing quietly on the televisions and my eyes would wander over against my will.
The last guy who told a story also brought up a guitar, and he sang for everyone a Scottish drinking song. Well I'm a sucker for folkish drinking songs where everyone joins in, so I thought I'd share the chorus with you all:
So be at ease
When you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet everyday
I don't know what was so unique about the man in the song, but he did say that he would buy everyone's drinks for the entire evening, so I guess that's pretty unique. Writing it out, there's nothing too special about the chorus, but it just got me thinking about enjoying some drinks with friends. If anyone is up for a night of beer and laughter, let me know, because I'm overdue. So be at ease, cause the first round's on me.
The last guy who told a story also brought up a guitar, and he sang for everyone a Scottish drinking song. Well I'm a sucker for folkish drinking songs where everyone joins in, so I thought I'd share the chorus with you all:
So be at ease
When you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet everyday
I don't know what was so unique about the man in the song, but he did say that he would buy everyone's drinks for the entire evening, so I guess that's pretty unique. Writing it out, there's nothing too special about the chorus, but it just got me thinking about enjoying some drinks with friends. If anyone is up for a night of beer and laughter, let me know, because I'm overdue. So be at ease, cause the first round's on me.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
The Blumenshine Bowl
It has become a tradition that each Thanksgiving our family (my mom's side, hence, the Blumenshine Bowl) engages in a sporting event that has taken on epic proportions. Uncles, cousins (both guys and girls), and boyfriends/girlfriends of cousins all engage for a winner-takes-all game of two-hand touch football. This year, we set an all-time record by fielding two complete teams. That's right, 22 people divided into teams of 11 took the field, each individual anticipating making the play that would go down in Blumenshine family lore. I myself had a dream of heroically disrupting one of the great constants of this tradition. Really, there are three great constants in this game, two of which will last as long as the game does, but one which I hope one day may come to an end.
Constant #1: My cousin Bo, who played as a lineman for a year at North Park College, will underestimate his own strength and send someone sailing headlong to the ground.
Constant #2: Someone's feelings will get hurt and their Thanksgiving experience will be partially ruined (yet, for some reason, everyone comes out again the next year).
Constant #3: The team captained by my Uncle Ron will win.
You have probably already guessed that defeating my Uncle Ron's team will be my crowning glory for decades to come. I will tell and retell the story to my children and grandchildren of how the stalwart, resolute Uncle Ron was thrust from the mountain of glory by the golden arm of yours truly. Perhaps I overexaggerate slightly my desire to defeat the most competitive person I know, but there would be something quite rewarding of seeing him, just for once, make the half-mile walk back to the waiting pie and ice cream with his head hanging low.
There are several reasons why my Uncle Ron's team wins every year. I guess it all starts because of how competitive he is. He generally picks the teams to begin with, and his team always has a slight skill advantage. Two, he utilizes more fully his talent. He will involve the girls in offensive plays only after being chided for being a jerk, whereas the other team generally tries to get everyone involved on each possession. Three, he draws up plays, while the other team generally says, "Get open, and I'll hit ya."
This year, I had hope, because for once, the teams seemed completely even, or perhaps even tilted in our favor. Due to the number of players, though, I played the first few possessions as a blocker so that everyone could get involved. It would also give me the opportunity to sit back and observe what the other team was doing defensively.
Eventually, I played receiver, but it was hard to get receptions because we had so many people going out for passes. Finally, with our team down 3 TDs to 1 later on in the game, I took over at the QB spot, and on our first possession lead my team down to the goalline by spreading the ball around to four or five different receivers. When I ran it in for the TD to make it 3 to 2 (because the only way we can score is touchdowns, we just play 1 point at a time), I was starting to think that maybe we could take down Uncle Ron's team.
We truly seemed to have turned the tide when my Uncle Ron was chased deep into backfield by my cousin Bo and, to make sure constant #1 was upheld, Bo sent Uncle Ron sprawling into a somersault, apparently angering and flustering him for not getting the pass off in time, and for being hit so violently in a "touch" football game. On one of the next passes, my cousin Andrea picked it off and gave us good field position. I quickly went back to work, hitting one wide open receiver about 10 yards from the endzone. Then seeing my 6'3" cousin matched up against someone shorter than him, I thought I had the perfect opportunity to loft the ball into the endzone and let Bo go after it. I let the high-arcing pass go, and everything seemed right, but without referees, just about anything goes. The shorter defender pushed Bo as he jumped for the ball, so it soared past him and into the arms of an opposing player.
Apparently that play took the wind out of our sails, and Uncle Ron hit his favorite target deep for another touchdown and put them up 4-2 with daylight fading. On the next possession, we determined that if we were unable to score on this possession, that the game would be over, and we'd go back and enjoy our pie. But I knew that the pie would taste much better if we could at least pull into a tie with them. I wanted and needed to score a touchdown bad, but on a third-down play, I heard Bo yell my name as if he was wide open. I turned and let one fly, with Rex Grossman-like foolishness, only to see my cousin Alex playing safety and the ball heading directly for him. Still, I saw that Bo should be able to catch up to the deep pass and at least tip it away. However, the ball sailed just over Bo's hand and into Alex's hands, promptly ending the game, and thus securing at least for one more year, that my Uncle Ron's team would come away with the W.
Nevertheless, the apple pie was delicious, and I got to celebrate my favorite holiday with a better-than-average family turnout. And though I lost at football, ping pong, and three games of Settlers of Catan, my friends were up for a fourth game of Settlers, and I managed to end the day a winner. And in regard to the family football game, like Cubbies fans always say, "Maybe next year!"
A boy can always dream.
Constant #1: My cousin Bo, who played as a lineman for a year at North Park College, will underestimate his own strength and send someone sailing headlong to the ground.
Constant #2: Someone's feelings will get hurt and their Thanksgiving experience will be partially ruined (yet, for some reason, everyone comes out again the next year).
Constant #3: The team captained by my Uncle Ron will win.
You have probably already guessed that defeating my Uncle Ron's team will be my crowning glory for decades to come. I will tell and retell the story to my children and grandchildren of how the stalwart, resolute Uncle Ron was thrust from the mountain of glory by the golden arm of yours truly. Perhaps I overexaggerate slightly my desire to defeat the most competitive person I know, but there would be something quite rewarding of seeing him, just for once, make the half-mile walk back to the waiting pie and ice cream with his head hanging low.
There are several reasons why my Uncle Ron's team wins every year. I guess it all starts because of how competitive he is. He generally picks the teams to begin with, and his team always has a slight skill advantage. Two, he utilizes more fully his talent. He will involve the girls in offensive plays only after being chided for being a jerk, whereas the other team generally tries to get everyone involved on each possession. Three, he draws up plays, while the other team generally says, "Get open, and I'll hit ya."
This year, I had hope, because for once, the teams seemed completely even, or perhaps even tilted in our favor. Due to the number of players, though, I played the first few possessions as a blocker so that everyone could get involved. It would also give me the opportunity to sit back and observe what the other team was doing defensively.
Eventually, I played receiver, but it was hard to get receptions because we had so many people going out for passes. Finally, with our team down 3 TDs to 1 later on in the game, I took over at the QB spot, and on our first possession lead my team down to the goalline by spreading the ball around to four or five different receivers. When I ran it in for the TD to make it 3 to 2 (because the only way we can score is touchdowns, we just play 1 point at a time), I was starting to think that maybe we could take down Uncle Ron's team.
We truly seemed to have turned the tide when my Uncle Ron was chased deep into backfield by my cousin Bo and, to make sure constant #1 was upheld, Bo sent Uncle Ron sprawling into a somersault, apparently angering and flustering him for not getting the pass off in time, and for being hit so violently in a "touch" football game. On one of the next passes, my cousin Andrea picked it off and gave us good field position. I quickly went back to work, hitting one wide open receiver about 10 yards from the endzone. Then seeing my 6'3" cousin matched up against someone shorter than him, I thought I had the perfect opportunity to loft the ball into the endzone and let Bo go after it. I let the high-arcing pass go, and everything seemed right, but without referees, just about anything goes. The shorter defender pushed Bo as he jumped for the ball, so it soared past him and into the arms of an opposing player.
Apparently that play took the wind out of our sails, and Uncle Ron hit his favorite target deep for another touchdown and put them up 4-2 with daylight fading. On the next possession, we determined that if we were unable to score on this possession, that the game would be over, and we'd go back and enjoy our pie. But I knew that the pie would taste much better if we could at least pull into a tie with them. I wanted and needed to score a touchdown bad, but on a third-down play, I heard Bo yell my name as if he was wide open. I turned and let one fly, with Rex Grossman-like foolishness, only to see my cousin Alex playing safety and the ball heading directly for him. Still, I saw that Bo should be able to catch up to the deep pass and at least tip it away. However, the ball sailed just over Bo's hand and into Alex's hands, promptly ending the game, and thus securing at least for one more year, that my Uncle Ron's team would come away with the W.
Nevertheless, the apple pie was delicious, and I got to celebrate my favorite holiday with a better-than-average family turnout. And though I lost at football, ping pong, and three games of Settlers of Catan, my friends were up for a fourth game of Settlers, and I managed to end the day a winner. And in regard to the family football game, like Cubbies fans always say, "Maybe next year!"
A boy can always dream.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Video Games Really Do Incur Violent (and Idiotic) Behavior
I found this article online citing strange behavior surrounding the release of PlayStation 3: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20061117/ap_on_re_us/playstation_shooting. And while most of this behavior is not funny, I really got a kick out of the 19-year-old who was treated for injuries after slamming into a pole in a rush to get into the store first. Ha, what an image!
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Anonymity
A friend of mine emailed me earlier today to let me know of a nun who was going to be presenting on the history of women in the Church. One of the women she was going to touch on was Julian of Norwich, whose Revelations of Divine Love was the subject of my dissertation, so I thought I'd check it out. It ended up being quite an informal meeting at the St. Jude's Catholic Worker House (a homeless shelter and soup kitchen). Anyway, I showed up and walked into the meeting late because I had a hard time finding the place. The nun, when I walked in, paused in her talk and greeted me, "Hello, who are you?" to which I replied "I'm Ben" as if she was expecting me. She smiled kindly, and said, "Well, I'm Agnes. Nice to meet you."
I guess because of the greeting, I had lost my anonymity somewhat, but I still had that moment where not a person in the room really knew a thing about me, and they must have wondered, "Where did this guy come from?" Despite the feelings of awkwardness that often accompany being in the presence of people who don't know a thing about you except your first name, I briefly savor that moment as I try to guess what they assume about me. At the same time, I yearn to let everyone know that there is a reason why I'm here, that I have something to contribute other than to be that mystifying character who appears out of the blue. Meanwhile, I like to guess at the history of other people, what their personalities are like, what role they play in the group.
A particularly humorous thing happened a couple weeks ago when I walked into a Unitarian-Universalist meeting the week before I was to present there. I wanted to get a feel for what the service was like so that I knew how to direct my presentation. I had walked in late to this event also (but for more legitimate reasons than getting lost) so I had no opportunity to introduce myself. At the end of the meeting, the lady who kind of heads things up started announcing that there would be a service the following week. "A young man named Ben Moreland will be presenting. He went to study in England, had grown up in an evangelical church, and through his time abroad had had a change in many of his beliefs." I sat there with my brother and sister smiling coyly, wondering when I should introduce myself. Eventually, at my sister's urging, I announced who I was, breaking my anonymity, and providing a bit of a surprise to the people who were gathered.
It seemed odd to have someone talk about you as if you were not in the room. It's not often in life that you hear people talking about you who don't know that you're there. I do sometimes wonder what people say about me when I'm not in the room, because generally speaking, people are, by and large, complimentary when I'm around. My perception of what people think about me is formed, of course, by my interactions with them. But then I wonder, what annoying traits do I have that people never approach me about? Or how do I upset people or let them down? I hear people complain about other people, and I sometimes complain about people, and I wonder, what do people complain about when they talk to others about me? If you're tempted to reveal it, you probably shouldn't. At least that's not what I'm asking for. I guess I'm just making an observation. Our self-perception is formed primarily by direct interactions, yet there is this whole other discussion that happens regarding us and how we affect other people that we rarely get the opportunity to observe. And perhaps that is for our own good. Then again, if we don't know what people really think and feel about us, how can our self-perception ever be accurate. If I could hear in plain terms the full gamut of people's opinion of me, would I have a healthier self-image or a worse one? Most of us were taught, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." That being the case, in all likelihood, we hear a lot more of people's positive opinions of us than we hear negative. (Sorry, that's a depressing thought. Nowhere to go but down from here.) Then again, I can think of many situations where I've held back on telling people what I like most about them. For whatever reason, I don't often tell friends exactly how highly I think of them, so I guess there may be room to go up after all.
In any case, I just wanted to make the observation that sometimes it's good to step outside the familiar. It can be exhilirating to start over, to allow new people to form new opinions about you. I think that's one of the reasons I went to Ireland. I felt like there was this entire side to myself that I wasn't aware of, and it was going to take being around different people with different values to help me accomplish that. Some people may see that as being inauthentic. I used to worry that I should be the exact same person no matter where I go or who I'm around. While I do think there is something harmful in living a double life, where you proclaim to be one thing in one place but live something entirely different in another (like that televangelist who was revealed for having sexual relations with a male prostitute all the while preaching against homosexuality), I think our personalities are so vast and adaptable, that different people can bring out different sides of our personality, and there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, I kind of like the fact that I don't have to be the same person in all circles. I feel fortunate that I was able to go to a new place where I literally was not known previously by anyone. I think it teaches you more about what is core to your personality and what is added on by other people's expectations for you. Granted, wherever you go, you will eventually have people's expectations put on you for who you ought to be. It's not good or bad in all instances, it's just life! An excellent novel to read that deals with this issue is The Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. I like the novel, because Ellison was a black writer during the civil rights era, but he takes a different approach. Ellison goes beyond the black man's struggle and strives to reach out to the universal struggle to overcome our surroundings and expectations and to discover what is essentially our self, to find dignity. His character starts out at a black university that was ultimately founded by a white man. In trying to do the thing expected of him, he gets kicked out of school. Eventually he ends up in a civil rights movement where he is able to voice his discord with society. Over time he finds himself trapped by certain expectations there as well that stifle his voice and ability to be himself. He finds that wherever he goes, people try to use him for their own purposes. So anyway, I don't know how I ended up here. I meant for this to be entertaining initially, but in the end my thoughts took me to this. So there you go. If you gain nothing else from this post, at least you know a good book to read.
I guess because of the greeting, I had lost my anonymity somewhat, but I still had that moment where not a person in the room really knew a thing about me, and they must have wondered, "Where did this guy come from?" Despite the feelings of awkwardness that often accompany being in the presence of people who don't know a thing about you except your first name, I briefly savor that moment as I try to guess what they assume about me. At the same time, I yearn to let everyone know that there is a reason why I'm here, that I have something to contribute other than to be that mystifying character who appears out of the blue. Meanwhile, I like to guess at the history of other people, what their personalities are like, what role they play in the group.
A particularly humorous thing happened a couple weeks ago when I walked into a Unitarian-Universalist meeting the week before I was to present there. I wanted to get a feel for what the service was like so that I knew how to direct my presentation. I had walked in late to this event also (but for more legitimate reasons than getting lost) so I had no opportunity to introduce myself. At the end of the meeting, the lady who kind of heads things up started announcing that there would be a service the following week. "A young man named Ben Moreland will be presenting. He went to study in England, had grown up in an evangelical church, and through his time abroad had had a change in many of his beliefs." I sat there with my brother and sister smiling coyly, wondering when I should introduce myself. Eventually, at my sister's urging, I announced who I was, breaking my anonymity, and providing a bit of a surprise to the people who were gathered.
It seemed odd to have someone talk about you as if you were not in the room. It's not often in life that you hear people talking about you who don't know that you're there. I do sometimes wonder what people say about me when I'm not in the room, because generally speaking, people are, by and large, complimentary when I'm around. My perception of what people think about me is formed, of course, by my interactions with them. But then I wonder, what annoying traits do I have that people never approach me about? Or how do I upset people or let them down? I hear people complain about other people, and I sometimes complain about people, and I wonder, what do people complain about when they talk to others about me? If you're tempted to reveal it, you probably shouldn't. At least that's not what I'm asking for. I guess I'm just making an observation. Our self-perception is formed primarily by direct interactions, yet there is this whole other discussion that happens regarding us and how we affect other people that we rarely get the opportunity to observe. And perhaps that is for our own good. Then again, if we don't know what people really think and feel about us, how can our self-perception ever be accurate. If I could hear in plain terms the full gamut of people's opinion of me, would I have a healthier self-image or a worse one? Most of us were taught, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." That being the case, in all likelihood, we hear a lot more of people's positive opinions of us than we hear negative. (Sorry, that's a depressing thought. Nowhere to go but down from here.) Then again, I can think of many situations where I've held back on telling people what I like most about them. For whatever reason, I don't often tell friends exactly how highly I think of them, so I guess there may be room to go up after all.
In any case, I just wanted to make the observation that sometimes it's good to step outside the familiar. It can be exhilirating to start over, to allow new people to form new opinions about you. I think that's one of the reasons I went to Ireland. I felt like there was this entire side to myself that I wasn't aware of, and it was going to take being around different people with different values to help me accomplish that. Some people may see that as being inauthentic. I used to worry that I should be the exact same person no matter where I go or who I'm around. While I do think there is something harmful in living a double life, where you proclaim to be one thing in one place but live something entirely different in another (like that televangelist who was revealed for having sexual relations with a male prostitute all the while preaching against homosexuality), I think our personalities are so vast and adaptable, that different people can bring out different sides of our personality, and there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, I kind of like the fact that I don't have to be the same person in all circles. I feel fortunate that I was able to go to a new place where I literally was not known previously by anyone. I think it teaches you more about what is core to your personality and what is added on by other people's expectations for you. Granted, wherever you go, you will eventually have people's expectations put on you for who you ought to be. It's not good or bad in all instances, it's just life! An excellent novel to read that deals with this issue is The Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. I like the novel, because Ellison was a black writer during the civil rights era, but he takes a different approach. Ellison goes beyond the black man's struggle and strives to reach out to the universal struggle to overcome our surroundings and expectations and to discover what is essentially our self, to find dignity. His character starts out at a black university that was ultimately founded by a white man. In trying to do the thing expected of him, he gets kicked out of school. Eventually he ends up in a civil rights movement where he is able to voice his discord with society. Over time he finds himself trapped by certain expectations there as well that stifle his voice and ability to be himself. He finds that wherever he goes, people try to use him for their own purposes. So anyway, I don't know how I ended up here. I meant for this to be entertaining initially, but in the end my thoughts took me to this. So there you go. If you gain nothing else from this post, at least you know a good book to read.
Monday, November 13, 2006
An Introduction to My Blog
After months upon months of heckling and chiding from friends, I have started a blog. I am by all means a laggard when it comes to these things, but I do come around eventually. Hopefully the blog will inspire me to catalogue my thoughts, dreams, stories, and photos for your general entertainment. But I half-wonder whether this blog will go down in a field of flame and heather as time passes. I suppose it will continue as long as I have friends and/or enemies who take interest in what I have to write.
In explanation of my blog's title and the subsequent poem from which I derived the title, it comes from William Butler Yeats and is titled Who Goes with Fergus? Part of the poem appears in the early part of James Joyce's Ulysses. Upon a recent reading of the early part of the book (no Matt, I'm not starting over again), I found the poem struck a chord with me. I am not yet sure who Fergus is; I guess I should look that up. However, if my blog is going to accomplish anything, I hope that it catches the spirit of that poem. Adam Duritz writes in his song Goodnight L.A. "what brings me down now is love, cause I can never get enough." Is that what it means to brood upon love's bitter mystery? I'm not sure, but it's what it means to me. So anyway, I hope my blog will allow you to laugh and cry and celebrate and mourn (where appropriate), and in the end to take your mind off of love's bitter mystery, to realize that we are all in this crazy world together to make it truly meaningful.
So lift up your russet brow, young man, and you your tender eyelids, maid. All is not lost as long as we have each other.
Finally, I feel like I need to start with a simple laugh to get this thing rolling, so I turn to you Leigh Ann, and your favorite joke of all time (pardon me if I paraphrase):
Some muffins were in an oven when one muffin proclaimed: "Man is it hot in here!" to which another muffin replied: "Holy crap, a talking muffin!"
In explanation of my blog's title and the subsequent poem from which I derived the title, it comes from William Butler Yeats and is titled Who Goes with Fergus? Part of the poem appears in the early part of James Joyce's Ulysses. Upon a recent reading of the early part of the book (no Matt, I'm not starting over again), I found the poem struck a chord with me. I am not yet sure who Fergus is; I guess I should look that up. However, if my blog is going to accomplish anything, I hope that it catches the spirit of that poem. Adam Duritz writes in his song Goodnight L.A. "what brings me down now is love, cause I can never get enough." Is that what it means to brood upon love's bitter mystery? I'm not sure, but it's what it means to me. So anyway, I hope my blog will allow you to laugh and cry and celebrate and mourn (where appropriate), and in the end to take your mind off of love's bitter mystery, to realize that we are all in this crazy world together to make it truly meaningful.
So lift up your russet brow, young man, and you your tender eyelids, maid. All is not lost as long as we have each other.
Finally, I feel like I need to start with a simple laugh to get this thing rolling, so I turn to you Leigh Ann, and your favorite joke of all time (pardon me if I paraphrase):
Some muffins were in an oven when one muffin proclaimed: "Man is it hot in here!" to which another muffin replied: "Holy crap, a talking muffin!"
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