I’m going to be posting them on my new writing blog here as I finish them. I’m going to be working on polishing the next story, and I think the one after that is ready to go. I’ll probably start the fifth one when we get back from our trip.

I’d love some critique, if anyone feels so inclined, so feel free to let me know if you end up reading anything. Thanks!

My friend Jason Watson did an excellent analysis of the logic used here, which is definitely worth a read.

I have to say, I can relate with everything the guy in the video says. Yes, some churchgoers are hypocrites who do hurtful things; yes, some churches focus on rules at the expense of the big picture. I understand why he’s saying everything that he’s saying, and I’ve said some of these things myself. But I still don’t agree. In addition to everything that Watson said, here’s why:

The video’s poet completely ignores the fact that the “rules” he speaks of are usually pulled straight from the Bible. Not out of context, either. Some extremist views, such as his example of the single mother being denied community, carry this to an extreme; but, as Watson said, these are the actions of a very vocal minority, and none of them are woven into the “rules” of faith. I know a great many pastors, and I can’t think of a one that isn’t outraged by things like that.

(I also realize that there are some “rules” proclaimed by many, such as urging women to remain silent in church and banning short haircuts on women. I would argue that we have to examine the cultural climate of the Bible and dig into why these things were said. This is a much larger discussion for another time.)

If you’re not familiar with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, here’s the Wikipedia article on it. If you don’t know, the hierarchy lists out needs in order of complexity. If simple needs like food and water aren’t being met, we’ll have a much harder time meeting higher-level needs like love and acceptance; similarly, if mid-level needs like love and self-esteem aren’t being met, we’ll have a much harder time meeting the self-actualization needs, which is where religion does the most good. In churches, we often find people who are really just there to try to meet lower-level needs like acceptance and self-esteem. I think these are important things and that the church can be a good place for those—but it should not be the only place we see those needs met, nor should it be the only reason we’re there.

Being religious to meet these needs is like turning on a fantastic movie to light a room. It’s frustrating. Movies weren’t designed to meet that need, so they flicker different images on the screen with varying levels of light. It’s not the best tool for the job. Really, we need to get the lighting under control so we can enjoy the movie.

When we rely on religion to meet needs it was not explicitly designed to meet, we’re frustrated with the gaps. And some go as far as to try to fill in those gaps themselves. If a need for acceptance isn’t consistently met, the emotional need for a common enemy can help to fill that gap; if a need for self-esteem isn’t consistently met, the need for a smug sense of superiority can seem like the missing puzzle piece.

I’m not saying that every Christian that says hurtful things or excludes others is simply immature—it’s not so simple. But I would wager that most of the polarity that the church exudes is due to a desperate desire to see these needs consistently met.

The “rules” are not the problem, as the video’s poet suggests. An unhealthy obsession with rules at the expense of their purpose is a problem, but that problem is not inherent in religion. Religion without rules is a system of belief with no defined expectations, which means its followers would have no idea how to live out those beliefs. Yes, Jesus’s grace does cover us in any circumstance—but if we have no desire to better ourselves because of it, we’re missing out on the most important part of that grace. We’re settling for spiritual certainty (a lower-level need) and missing out on being something bigger and better than what we are now (transcendence, the highest-level need on the chart).

So this video on missing the point ironically misses the point. Christianity should never be defined solely by its rules, but it shouldn’t forget them, mock them, or look down upon them. Replacing one extreme with another is rarely a good course of action.

My sophomore year of college had just started, so there was the usual reconnecting with old friends and meeting new ones. For some reason (I can’t remember exactly why), they had a bunch of inflatable carnival games on the main lawn one evening, so some friends and I decided to go check them out. They had the usual bouncy castles and bungee runs, but what immediately caught our eyes was the inflatable boxing ring. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s like a bouncy castle where you put on giant, inflatable boxing gloves and punch the crap out of each other. This is the sort of thing college was all about.

My friend Kyle and I immediately decided this was something we had to do. Kyle and I were famous not only for being hippies, but also for an unusually large repertoire of Your Mom jokes. (My favorite: Your mom is so fat she was recently overthrown by a small militia group and is now known as the Republic of Your Mom.) So, of course, the boxing ring inspired both of us to pull out our best Your Mom jokes, and accentuate them with some good, old-fashioned threats as well. By the time we got to the front of the line, there was an awful lot of pride riding on this match.

“Okay, climb in the ring and put your gloves on,” the ref said. (I like to call him a ref, even though he was just a minimum-wage junior carnie.)

Kyle walked around to the far side to climb in the ring. This was my first chance to come through on all of those slanderous statements I had made, so I had to make an entrance—a good one. I grabbed the ropes surrounding the ring, mustered all of my strength and agility, and flipped over the rope and into the ring. BOOM! I’m a little hazy on the details, but apparently, my feet hit the bouncy ground and bounced back while the rest of me kept going, causing my right knee to connect hard with my jaw. (I would later discover I had teeth marks on my knee.)

So Kyle climbs into the ring, and I’m on the floor, bleeding profusely from the mouth and basically being incoherent. (Again, I’m a little hazy on the details here.) I found out the next day upon a doctor visit that I had managed to give myself a concussion whilst climbing into an inflatable boxing ring.

I mentioned I was hazy on the details. Here’s why: I had total amnesia for about fifteen minutes. Apparently, I never actually lost consciousness, but there’s a span of about five minutes that I don’t remember, and a span of about ten minutes that I remember not remembering anything. The first thing I remember is holding a flavorless snow cone to my lip while a guy mopped up blood behind me. I had another classic Brandon reaction. Here’s my thought process upon regaining my senses:

Where am I? Am I eating a snow cone? Why doesn’t this snow cone have any flavor? Wait a second, who am I? What have I lived up to this point? Do I have amnesia? How utterly fascinating!

I found out later that week that I had met a number of people for the first time while I had amnesia. While I certainly made quite the first impression, I had to explain to them later that I didn’t actually remember meeting them.

It wasn’t long before I decided to go back to my room to recover. When you get a concussion, you get really, really, really tired afterwards, so all I wanted to do was go to sleep. That’s when I remembered my Calculus homework. Calculus was the bane of my existence that semester, and it all really started with this. Calculus homework is hard. Calculus homework with a concussion is impossible.

As I mentioned, I went to the doctor the next day because my head was still pounding. That’s when I found out I had a concussion. That’s also when I found out that if you go to sleep right after you get a concussion, you can slip into a coma! So, while I was angry about the Calculus homework, I actually owe it my life, as I would most certainly be a vegetable today had I not completed it.

So the next time you hear a teenager complain that Calculus won’t ever do them any good, you tell them: Calculus saved Brandon’s life!

To this day, I still have a large mass of scar tissue on the inside of my lower lip, which serves as a constant reminder of the hidden dangers of inflatable boxing.

Tonight, I made breaded chicken with red onions and sun-dried tomatoes. Seems pretty straightforward. That’s where I went wrong. For breading, you can make a light breading just by dipping the chicken into flour. This makes a very light breading—barely noticeable. I took some of the oil from the sun-dried tomatoes and used it to make some of the flour stick. When the chicken came out of the oven, it was coated in what looked like greasy pancake batter. It tasted exactly like the last sentence made it sound. I think Janelle gave up and started eating some tortilla chips left over from lunch.

So, lest you think I’m an awesome cook, I sometimes make things like that.

And now, my top five cooking disasters:

The Stuffed Shells

My sister and I were cooking for a party my dad was throwing. We decided to make stuffed shells, because, really, who doesn’t love stuffed shells? We didn’t have all of the ingredients, but cooking at my dad’s house without all of the ingredients is like basic training for Gregorys. We are Macgyvers in the kitchen. We know no fear. We will look an empty pantry in the eye and tell it where it can shove it.

We got most of the stuffing done before we realized we didn’t have enough ground beef for the dish. No problem. Like I said, we do this all the time. What’s in the fridge? Hot dogs? No problem. Let’s cut those little guys up and drop them in the mix.

The stuffed shells tasted like hot dogs. I don’t mean they tasted like stuffed shells with hot dogs in them. They tasted like hot dogs with the texture of stuffed shells. You could barely taste the tomato sauce. Apparently, the hot dog is one of the most potent flavors on the planet. Who knew?

The guests ate the shells politely and in complete, dead silence.

The Salmon Patties

I decided to make salmon patties while staying with my dad. Salmon patties were something I had a lot growing up, and I absolutely loved them. So I got the canned salmon from the store and prayed that we had suitable ingredients at home to finish the recipe.

Salmon patties aren’t a difficult recipe. Bread crumbs, check. Diced onion, check. Oil, check. Eggs… eggs? Not so lucky there. Well, what’s the worst that could happen?

I wish I could say that the salmon patties caught fire or exploded or catalyzed into coal, but it’s not quite that exciting. Really, they were just disgusting. It turns out eggs are the most important part of that dish. Without eggs, it fell apart and basically dehydrated. I wound up with a sickly, burnt, ground-up salmon jerky without any seasoning. I coaxed my sister into taking a bite. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for this. We wound up putting the “salmon patties” in the cat’s feeding dish. The cat took one whiff, turned up her nose, and walked away. We had to toss not only the salmon patties but also the cat food they were sitting on top of.

The King Cake

Even though I already documented this one here, it’s worth another mention. I can’t really say anything that’s funnier than the pictures in that post, so go ahead and look at those.

The Cookies

For those who don’t know, I moved up to Kansas from sunny central Florida in the Spring of 2005. I was originally working for a new church. It all started with a trip up here to meet the people who would be starting the church. At the time, I had just started dating Janelle, so I was staying with her for the week I was up here. She had, of course, heard of my legendary cooking skills, so I decided to put them to work to bake some white chocolate cranberry cookies for her. Just as I started mixing the dough, she got a phone call from her best friend who lives down in Phoenix. She went outside to get better phone reception.

Those who know me know that, in addition to being rather adventurous in the kitchen, I am also exceptionally clumsy and uncoordinated. (This is evidenced by the large volume of salsa I am covered with after eating at any Mexican dining establishment.) As I was putting the cookies in the oven, one of them slipped off of the baking sheet. No problem, just scoop it up, right? Well, her oven had some kind of small vent on the bottom. And, of course, the cookie fell right in there.

Within minutes, black smoke started pouring out of the oven. (You didn’t seriously think I’d turn off the oven and deal with it, did you?) I opened a window in the kitchen, but the slight draft couldn’t keep up with the billows of smoke filling the house. Before long, the fire alarm went off. I tried fanning the smoke away from the fire alarm, but that didn’t work. I wound up removing the fire alarm from the ceiling (which didn’t stop it, as it was battery operated) and carrying it outside for a breather. As Janelle saw me walk outside with a ringing fire alarm and smoke pouring out of the front door, she told her friend, “I’d better look into this, I’m going to have to call you back.”

So the first baked good I served Janelle was smoked white chocolate cranberry cookies.

The Garlic Bread

This one’s kind of unique in that I still don’t know what I did wrong. Janelle was throwing a pitch party (a card game tournament) at the duplex she lived in and I was cooking for the event. I had popped some garlic bread in the oven for our guests. After enough time had gone by, I went to check on it. The garlic bread was on fire. I don’t mean smoldering or burnt around the edges—half the loaf was on fire. I had a classic Brandon reaction: I closed the oven, put my chin on my hand, and thought about it for a few moments (as any great man of action wouldn’t have done) before Janelle’s roommate Liz got the baking soda and put the fire out.

Now, I know it looks bad, with me setting Janelle’s kitchen on fire twice. I’m happy to say our kitchen has been fire-free for five years, now. The grill, not so much. Flaming cheeseburgers are kind of my specialty.

I thought running at night was supposed to keep you up. Hmm. I can’t tell how I’m doing on my fitness goals, either. I’m losing fat, but gaining muscle, since strength training is a part of it, so I’m actually gaining weight. I hope this is a good thing.

These days, when I’m not working out, playing music, or working, I’m frequently writing. I’m working on several related short stories with the hope of digitally publishing them later in one joint volume—maybe several. I don’t want to post them here yet, but feel free to message me if you want to read them. I’m somewhat ashamed to say that they would be in the same section as Lord of the Rings. I’ve got two stories completed, and I have two in progress. And if you’re wondering, my favorite redhead alter-ego Lenus is a character.

That’s all I’ve got in me tonight. Good night, folks!

Any thoughts?

So I’m writing this to tell the world the truth about narwhals. Never let it be said that Lyrist’s Locution is not an education resource.

The narwhal is indeed a real creature. It’s a whale with a horn. Yes, that’s right, I said horn. It’s a helical (spiraling) horn too, just like a unicorn. They live in the arctic circle, and feed mostly on fish with a few shrimp and squid thrown in for flavor.

You might be asking yourself, “Where do they get that horn?” That’s an excellent question, and one I had to ask myself. Narwhals actually grow up without horns. The horn marks a coming of age for narwhals, and some search for them their whole lives. A narwhal horn is made of a metallic ore from a meteor. Until they find their horns, narwhals spend most of their time watching the night sky for falling meteors.

The narwhal then has to find the fallen meteor. This sometimes requires diving to great depths to find it.

The narwhal then takes the meteor back to a special underwater workshop just for narwhals and begins to work on his horn.

The work is grueling and the mental fortitude needed is immense. A good many narwhals do not survive the smithing period.

When the horn is completed, the narwhals fixes it to his head with a special sealant.

The narwhal is now a man narwhal.

Second question: What does a narwhal do with his horn? Another good question, and one that took me a while to answer. Through the centuries, the narwhals have perfected the underwater smithing process and create horns that can grant wishes. Man narwhals just go about wishing for things all the time. While narwhals are free to wish for anything their little narwhal hearts desire, the wishes most often involve at least one of three things: sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

Many narwhals die out as a result of this rock star lifestyle. This is a mystery, as the narwhals never seem to wish for eternal life or protection from the harmful effects of their vices. Scientists believe this is an evolutionary response to narwhal overcrowding, which was rampant in the 1970s.

There are a lucky few narwhals that transcend their earthly vices and find religion.

These narwhals spend the rest of their lives learning how to use their wishes for the good of narwhalkind, as well as buying annoying slogan t-shirts and listening to terrible music.

So that, my friends, is the truth about narwhals. Be sure to spread the truth, as many do not know the real truth about narwhals.

Music

As I said, Vibe has recorded its first three songs, two of which I’m playing bass on. Rez (our youth band) has also recorded five songs, and Cutter Gage is working on a full album. I’m figuring out a lot of things with the label, with Cory’s help, and I feel like we’re getting to a point where we can start really moving. We had our first artist demo, and the guy sounds awesome. We’re not at a point right now where we can take on new artists, but I’m hoping we can work together in the future.

I’m also trying to get some musicians together regularly at my house again, but I can’t find a lot of them with free time at the same time that I have it. It’d be great to be playing with musicians more than twice a week.

Writing

I finished a short story and am working on another related one. I’m hoping to do a series of short stories in the same world, as this will be much more manageable than my past attempts at a full-length novel. I’m thinking about setting up another blog to house these.

Big News

We’re starting to tell people now, but Janelle and I are moving toward adopting some kids through the foster system. We don’t have any romantic notions that it will be easy, as many of these kids were pulled out of horrible situations that have left some scars, but we’re looking forward to it. We’re shooting for next summer.

Health News

I have a vitamin D deficiency. I know, it’s shocking that I don’t get enough sunlight, but it’s the truth. The really surprising part, though is that, while I’m low on vitamin D, Janelle is deathly low. Like, we’re talking vampire levels of vitamin D, here. She’s on a prescription strength supplement that’s several thousand percent of the daily recommended allowance.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to walk around my neighborhoodnow that the sun’s down.