Robbylog

Weight For Us

2009-06-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

There is a weight on everyone’s back. Life is hard. People can go about their days not knowing what they’re carrying around with them and eventually they’ll crack. For Jean-Dominique Bauby that weight was light until Friday December 8th, 1995. After picking up his son for a weekend together, Bauby had a stroke. Bauby’s massive stroke left him in a coma for 20 days and when he awoke he found himself suffering of Locked-In Syndrome, which doctors C.J. Borthwick and R. Crossley define as, “patients who become unable to speak or move as the result of certain rare cerebra-vascular accidents involving the brainstem” (387). Bauby describes his weight as a diving bell. Willie Howard writes, “Early diving bells were nothing more than inverted buckets that trapped air…the wooden diving bell built in 1691 by British astronomer Edmond Halley. Its breakthrough technology of the day included supplies of fresh air from barrels, a valve to release stale air, a bench seat, a barometer for a depth gauge and a helmet that let divers venture outside the bell” (Diving). In addition to his paralysis and muteness Bauby’s right eye had to be sewn shut because it was drying out. Bauby, with the help of his speech therapist began to communicate by blinking his one good eye. Bauby would blink at the letter when a specialized alphabet ordered from most common to least common was read to him. Letters formed words and words then formed sentences. Through these sentences his butterfly was able to take flight in the form of his imagination and he was able to communicate to the outside world. That painstaking communication gave us The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.

Bauby’s difficulty in communicating did not seem to hinder his ability to write beautiful prose about his life, both before and after his stroke. Bauby writes in the prologue, “Through the frayed curtain at my window, a wan glow announces the break of day. My heels hurt, my head weighs a ton, and something like a giant invisible diving bell holds my body prisoner” (Bauby 3). Bauby cannot move or talk and yet has the wherewithal to notice the sunlight coming in through his hospital room window. From the first line of the book it’s hard to miss the fact that Bauby sees the big picture. He’s not navel gazing nor saying “woe is me” but rather focusing on the beauty around him and paints a picture for the reader of what he is feeling. Like Bauby, everyone has a similar weight, some heavier than others but everyone has one. All people are locked-in to something. Their souls, are locked into their bodies. When reading Bauby’s memoir it is as if the reader is not merely reading his words but also his thoughts. Through this, the narration takes on all the conclusions the reader’s mind would come to if they were unable to communicate. The reader in a sense becomes the writer. Through Bauby’s honesty, symbolism and imagination he was not only able to write a memoir but a beautiful expression of how to carry around the weight of life but also what makes life worth living.

Jean-Dominique Bauby will be remembered for his memoir and the amazing experience that brought it about but he wasn’t always like that. As the fashion editor of Elle magazine Bauby lived the expected luxurious lifestyle full of travel, nice cars and beautiful women. He recalls a test drive of a new car, “Crossing the Bois de Boulogne, the BMW glides like a flying carpet, a private world of luxury and comfort” (Bauby 121). He was also a son to a father he loved very much. Bauby recalls a scene with his father, “The last time I saw my father, I shaved him…I wrap a big towel around his shriveled neck, daub thick lather over his face, and do my best not to irritate his skin” (Bauby 43). Through the small glimpses of his life prior to his stroke we see a man that lived both a life of luxury but was also sensitive enough to care for his elderly father. Bauby’s character did not change after suffering the stroke. He describes his relationship with the hospital staff, “I hated some of them, those who wrenched my arm while putting me in my wheelchair, or left me all night long with the TV on. For a few minutes or a few hours I would cheerfully have killed them. Later still, as time cooled my fiercest rages, I got to know them better. They carried out as best they could their delicate mission: to ease our burden a little when our crosses bruised our shoulders too painfully” (Bauby 110). Thomas Mallon writes, “The author cultivates strong feelings, especially anger, to keep his spirit from atrophying along with his limbs. But despite occasional sarcastic eruptions, the book’s tone is dominated by a sweet, even humorous, lyricism” (Blink). Throughout the book Bauby balances beautifully between extreme sarcasm and sensitivity, which allows the reader to both laugh with Bauby and his situation and also cry with how lonely and isolated he must have felt. Bauby’s horrible circumstances didn’t seem to change him. He was a high flying magazine executive and a sweet son prior to the accident and remained so through his use of humor and symbolism in his writing.

After waking from his coma, finding himself paralyzed and mute, Bauby could have easily given up. Who would have blamed him? It would almost be expected. He didn’t though, he chose to see beauty and use his imagination to remember life the way he wanted to and for this his memoir stays with us. Robert McCrum writes, “Most stroke victims, let alone Locked-In syndrome victims, are so overwhelmed by the four horsemen of apocalyptic illness depression, disability, fatigue and rage that even to compose a postcard involves a supreme effort of will” (Observer Review). Why did he do this? It was hard and an amazing act of determination and no one was holding a gun to his head. Bauby kept on living and wrote his memoir because he had a story to tell. A story that only he could tell. He writes, “My diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mind takes flight like a butterfly. There is so much to do. You can wander off in space or in time, set out for Tierra del Fuego or for King Midas’s court” (Bauby 5). Bauby’s view of life is the exact opposite of what one would think. Rather than basking in self pity, Bauby doesn’t see enough time in the day for all the adventures in his mind.

Everyone on earth is locked in to something. Sex, alcohol, work, video games, name it and someone loves it. By these things people get distracted and trapped and avoid what mankind was created for, to tell a story. Everyone is like Jean-Dominique Bauby and has a choice to make. People can look at their seasons of life and see the limits, the constraints and the difficulties that they face or they can see more. Bauby chose to see more and writes, “My nostrils quiver with please as they inhale a robust odor-intoxicating to me but one that most mortals cannot abide. “Ooh!” says a disgusted voice behind me. “What a stench!” But I never tire of the smell of french fries” (Bauby 88). The smell of french fries means so much more to Bauby than to the average upright person because the smell is the closest thing he can come to tasting them. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly serves as a beautiful reminder for the reader to open their eyes and see the things they can so often ignore or get distracted from.

An unfortunate reality is that some people recognize the choice they face and choose to go they opposite direction. Some people choose dying over living. Eerily coincidental to Bauby is the story of a Vincent Humbert. A 22 year old French paraplegic who was left paralyzed, mute and blind (Son’s Wish). Humbert wrote a book entitled I Ask the Right to Die, in which he campaigned for the legalization of euthanasia in France. Humbert’s book, dictated in the exact same hospital as Bauby’s paints a stark contrast to the message of Bauby’s memoir. Charles Smith writes, “Mr. Humbert recounts with heartbreaking bitterness how his life as a healthy, careful young fireman ended when his car met an oncoming truck on a narrow country road. After enduring months of ebbing hope that he would recover any of his lost faculties he decided he wanted to die and with his mother began the campaign” (Son’s Wish). In no way should a choice like this be made by someone outside of the inner circle of the patient if not the patients themselves, but what if Bauby had given up, what if he chose to end his life before it came to an end naturally? His memoir would never have been written, millions of people would not have been touched by his story and people would not be inspired by life. Deathbeds are coming for everyone. On those deathbeds people look back on their lives and either have great joy or great remorse. Bauby, although his book is filled with so much hope, was not immune to remorse. He recounts a lost bet at a horse race track:

The memory of that event has only just come back to me, now doubly painful: regret for a vanished past and, above all, remorse for lost opportunities. Mithra-Grandchamp is the women we were unable to love, the chances we failed to seize, the moments of happiness we allowed to drift away. Today it seems to me that my whole life was nothing but a string of those small near misses: a race whose result we know beforehand but in which we fail to bet on the winner” (Bauby 94).

Bauby had a great life, one full of money, fame and everything that life has to offer and yet he still had remorse.

It can be said that everything that happens, happens for a reason. Bauby had a stroke for a reason. He was meant to inspire people to live their lives, to open their eyes and to see all that fills life around them and to encourage people to take advantage of the freedom they have in this life. Everyone wakes up in the morning for a reason. A choice has to be made: either drown with the diving bell of life or take flight with the butterfly. Distractions and stress can creep up from around the corner at the drop of a hat. We should be a people that persevere and endure and continually look at the big picture and how today fits into it. Theologian John Piper expounds on the little moments in life where we get a new perspective on life:

At these moments, when the trifling fog of life clears and I see what I am really on earth to do, I groan over the petty pursuits that waste so many lives – and so much of mine. Just think of the magnitude of sports – a whole section of the daily newspaper. But there is no section on God. Think of the endless resources for making your home and garden more comfortable and impressive. Think of how many tens of thousands of dollars you can spend to buy more car than you need. Think of the time and energy and conversation that go into entertainment and leisure and what we call “fun stuff.” And add to that now the computer that artificially recreates the very games that are already so distant from reality; it is like a multi-layered dreamworld of insignificance expanding into nothingness” (Piper 125).

If life was meant to be wasted, it wouldn’t have happened. Please don’t waste yours.

Obligitory Truth

2009-06-03T06:00:00.000-07:00

Here's another essay. I was given the task of determining whether or not a memoirist is entitled to take creative license with their memoir. Hope you enjoy.

Obligatory Truth

When someone purchases, rents, or steals a book they are looking for something, something they can’t find in their own life. If they purchase a fantasy book, they want to escape and be taken to a different time and place. If they purchase a memoir they are longing to look into someone else’s life. They want to see the kind of experiences they’ve had and how those experiences have effected or even changed the author. Certain assumptions are made by the reader when they come to a book, whether it be fact or fiction. Readers of fantasy know they are not reading reality and therefore give the author license to create otherworldly and even unrealistic stories. Readers of memoir come to the book expecting to be drawn into a person’s life experiences and that those same experiences actually happened. It is memoirists’ duty and obligation to honor the reader’s expectations by telling the truth and refraining from composing or lying about aspects of their writing.

This argument, like every argument has two sides. The first side is justice, truth, and integrity -- a journalistic approach. The second side is art, ideas, and meaning -- a poetic approach. Authors have a choice to make about how they write their memoirs. They must decide which will take precedence, the story or the meaning of the story. Helen Epstein claims, “Because it is so strongly rooted in the specifics of time and place, memoir depends as much on accurate rendition of facts as on the writer’s intellectual and emotional honesty” (“As Best”). The author is forced by the genre, a genre they chose to write, a genre with borders and definition, to not only tell the story but make an emotional connection with the reader. The author must take a journalistic approach to the story to come up with the poetic meaning for the reader. If the foundation of the poetic meaning is false, the story fails and the reader is left betrayed.

Betrayal is avoided when truth is told. Vivian Gornick, the author of The Situation and the Story, disagrees when she writes, “What happened to the writer is not what matters; what matters is the large sense that the writer is able to make of what happened” (91). Unfortunately, readers don’t come to a memoir knowing nor expecting that. Gornick has first hand experience with this issue when in 2003 she admitted to composing characters, events and dialogue for her memoir Fierce Attachments. She defends her actions in an interview by saying, “This is a genre that requires a more educated readership. A memoir is a composition” (qtd. in Beer). Must a reader be educated to determine fact versus fiction? The problem is not with the reader’s education level or IQ but rather the reader’s expectations. If the reader expected fictional writing from the memoirists there wouldn’t be any discussion, but that is not why readers flock to memoirs, they come for truth. Readers read memoir because they long for someone’s real life experiences, and if those real life experiences are fiction, the rug has been torn out from under them.

The question is raised, why would an author want to do this? Why would an author purposely invent scenes, or characters in a memoir? Scott Eyman proposes, “Nobody wants to read the fourth book about the father who’s a drunk and the mother who can’t get off the couch, so the ante has to be upped. Before you know it, mom and dad are not just alcoholics, they’re molesting the children, then worshipping Satan” (“It’s My Story”). There certainly is nothing new under the sun in our day. Authors are retelling the same stories and are tempted for the sake of narrative and excitement to embellish a little here and fabricate a little there. It may make for a great read but its not a memoir, its not truth. Gornick writes, “The ability to make us believe that we know who is speaking is the trustworthy narrator achieved” (17). She is dead on. We can only believe the memoirist by what they have written in their book. The minute it is discovered that facts have been embellished and events contorted the memoirist’s hopes of being believable are dashed. Gornick violates her own idea when she composes and invents aspects of her memoir.

Another author that has garnered much ridicule for falsifying events in his memoir is James Frey, who wrote A Million Little Pieces, a story about his recovery from a life of crime, drugs and alcohol. Where Gornick composed characters and dialogue, Frey completely lied. When being interviewed on the Larry King Live show, Frey defended himself, “The book is 432 pages long. The total page count of disputed events is 18, which is less than five percent of the total book” (“James Frey”). His defense has holes to say the least. If its so little of the book, why embellish any of it? Such a miniscule portion of the book can’t change too much of the narrative, so why be dishonest to the readers that are assuming that all 432 pages are fact, and not 414. Frey continues, “It’s an individual’s perception of what happened in their own life. This is my recollection of my life” (“James Frey”). The problem is that the life presented in the book is not his life; it’s the life he wanted readers to be captivated by but not his. Tom Beer concludes, “Why would someone write a novel and then extend the fiction even further by creating a fictional author for it and hiring an actor to play the role in public?” he continues, “This much is certain: For confused readers, the boundary between storytelling and sheer make-believe has never seemed more indistinct” (“No Place”).

Embellishing facts for a tighter narrative is lazy writing. The memoirist is trying to engage the reader by making something sound better than it really was. A good memoirist is bound by truth and must come up with a way to creatively express it in a way that is both truthful and engaging, this is no easy task. Larry King questioned Frey about changing the location of a cut on his face, Frey responds, “It’s a lot easier than saying over and over again that I cut the area between my lower lip and my chin. You know, I believe that the essential truth of the event remains, there’s a large cut on my face” (“James Frey”). The essential truth is just that, the truth and not a version of what someone thinks of the truth. Does changing the location of a cut on his face really make the narrative tighter? Frey just couldn’t come up with a creative way to say he cut his lip.

Any time a memoirist falsifies events in their memoir, trust is violated. The reader has come to the book expecting an honest portrayal of the written events that have change the author into who they are. Vivian Gornick, and James Frey in different ways violated their readers’ trust and ultimately weren’t honest with themselves. Frey reflects, “I thought of myself as being tougher than I was and badder than I was-and it helped me cope. When I was writing the book…instead of being as introspective as I should have been, I clung to that image” (“James Frey Controversy”). Expecting integrity and honesty from people has become taboo these days. People lie, cheat and steal to succeed and when they’re caught it is explained away and blame shifted. Truth is not subjective, there is no grey area. James Frey and Vivian Gornick were more concerned with the story than the truth and in the end their readers suffered because of their expectations for the truth.

Engaging the Truth

2009-05-27T21:45:00.000-07:00

Here's another paper I had to write this quarter in my English 102 class. In no way do I support the smoking of hashish...

Engaging the Truth

In The Situation and the Story, Vivian Gornick proposes many ideas about what makes a writing worthy of reading. Writing is one of the most subjective forms of art that exists today. What makes a piece of writing well written might make it poorly written to someone else. A filter has to be held up to the writing to determine whether or not the author is telling the truth. Gornick’s ideas will be the filter that the essays “Under the Influence” by Scott Russell Sanders and “Hashish in Marseilles” by Walter Benjamin, will be viewed through. In these essays, the authors’ personas, sympathy, and detachment keep the reader engaged and tell the story’s truths.

When I think of persona, I think of Tony Robbins. That strong personality, great presence and someone that everyone wants to be around, except for the people that think he’s a complete fool (in the case of Al Bundy, just skip straight to the fool). So when Gornick writes, “The unsurrogated narrator has the monumental task of transforming low-level self-interest into the kind of detached empathy required of a piece of writing that is to be of value to the disinterested reader” , the reader has to question themselves (Gornick 7). What makes a writing worth reading? Quite often it is the persona of the author. The way they write, how they write it, how they say it, that is what keeps the reader interested. Sanders, hooks the reader from the beginning when he writes, “My father drank. He drank as a gut-punched boxer gasps for breath, as a starving dog gobbles food—compulsively, secretly, in pain and trembling” (Sanders 734). From the first line Sanders’ persona grabs you and forces you to read on. He writes a sad sentence that speaks truth and draws the reader in to explore what Sanders is saying about his Dad and alcohol.

Benjamin takes on a different persona all together. His essay slowly takes the reader on a journey through Marseilles, France while he is trips on hashish. He writes, “In this city of hundreds of thousands where no one knows me, of not being disturbed, I lie on my bed. And yet I am disturbed, by a little child crying. I think three-quarters of an hour have passed. But it is only twenty minutes…So I lie on the bed, reading and smoking” (Benjamin 371). Where Sanders’ pacing is quick and deliberate Benjamin takes things slow, repetitive and expansive. Benjamin wants to experience Marseilles the only way he could, by himself. In a city where no one knows him, isolation is sought but unattainable. He wants a do not disturb sign on his life but the maid keeps knocking.

Both Sanders and Benjamin use a specific, orchestrated persona to open the eyes of the reader and keep them from closing. Benjamin is effective because he creates a dreamlike state. The reader is allowed to experience Marseilles in a trance with him. Sanders’ persona is one of detail, quickness, and scene painting. Each piece of imagery so precise that every one of his emotions is felt.

Sympathy for who or what an author is writing about helps make the author believable and worthy of reading. Gornick writes, “Where the narrator is presented as an innocent and the subject as a monster—the work fails because the situation remains static. For the drama to deepen, we must see the loneliness of the monster and the cunning of the innocent” (Gornick 35). No one wants to read an author complain about how horrible life is. Sanders shows sympathy for his father when he writes, “He would not hide the green bottles in his tool box, would not sneak off to the barn with a lump under his coat, would not fall asleep in the daylight, would not roar and fume, would not drink himself to death, if only I were perfect” (Sanders 734). While unhealthy, Sanders looks inside to see if there is anything he could have done to prevent his Dad from being an alcoholic. At then end of his essay, Sanders is looking at his relationship with his children and sees that he has replaced his father’s drinking with his overworking. He writes, “I write, therefore, to drag into the light what eats at me—the fear, the guilt, the shame—so that my own children may be spared” (Sanders 744). Sanders wants nothing more than the sins of his father not to be passed down to his children, but man is a creature of redundancy. Sanders has replaced alcohol with a different god.

Where Sanders’ substance is the cause of all that is wrong, Benjamin’s substance is the cause of all that is good. He writes in the final paragraph, “And when I recall this state I should like to believe that hashish persuades nature to permit us—for less egoistic purposes—that squandering of our own existence that we know in love” (Benjamin 375). Benjamin’s subject isn’t a person but rather the hashish itself. He is grateful to the hashish and that it makes less of him and more of love. The hashish frees him to experience not only Marseilles in a different way but also love itself. The hashish has given Benjamin the ability to see more in every situation and go deeper into his experience, deeper than the typical stoner could go. Benjamin’s sympathy not only helps him enjoy his night in Marseilles but it helps the reader go along with him. Benjamin does this all without preaching. He isn’t trying to convince the reader that illicit drugs will make life amazing. He shows that hashish gave him an amazing experience and shows his gratitude by showing sympathy towards it.

Detachment from the situation that the author is writing about helps provide perspective and do more than just tell a story. Gornick rehashes an assignment she once had in Cairo, Egypt where she struggled to write the story. She writes, ”On the one hand, the prose is an amazement of energy, crowded with description and response. On the other, the sentences are often rhetorical, the tone ejaculatory, the syntax overloaded” (Gornick 12). She couldn’t sit down and write what she wanted because she got too involved, she wasn’t able to pick out the story from inside the situation.

Sanders gets detachment not only from the time it took to grow up, but also by seeing that he is what he never wanted; just like his Dad. He writes about his relationship with his son, “He tells me that when I am gripped by sadness he feels responsible; he feels there must be something he can do to spring me from depression, to fix my life. And that crushing sense of responsibility is exactly what I felt at the age of ten in the face of my father’s drinking” (Sanders 744). Sanders’ detachment allows him to take a step back and look at what his life has been. When he looks at his life by writing the story, he feels the crushing weight of who he has become and what he has modeled for his children. Without detachment Sanders would be looking to blame his father instead of taking responsibility for what his children have become.

Benjamin’s detachment comes by his ability to look through his night in Marseilles as more than a drug fueled visit but rather an enlightened journey. He writes, “We go forward; but in so doing we not only discover the twists and turns of the cave, but also enjoy this pleasure of discovery against the background of the other, rhythmical bliss of unwinding the thread” (Benjamin 373). Existential thoughts don’t happen without reflection. Benjamin’s detachment helps him see something bigger than a mere hashish trip. He learned things about himself and the world around him. It is this that tells us the truth.

Almost Famous is a autobiographical film about director, Cameron Crowe’s teenage years, growing up fast as a rock journalist. In it, Philip Seymour Hoffman’s character Lester Bangs, an acclaimed music critic is pleading with Crowe’s character. He says, ”You cannot make friends with the rock stars. That’s what’s important, if you’re a rock journalist…You have to make your reputation on being honest and unmerciful.” Like critics, authors have to be detached from their subjects in order to tell the truth. A critic can’t be in bed with the rock stars and tell them how terrible their music is. An author too must be completely honest and unmerciful even if it means implicating themselves in the blood bath.

The goal of every author is to reach the reader. Authors can do this in different ways, but authors must have persona, sympathy and detachment to reach the reader and keep the reader. Scott Russell Sanders’ and Walter Benjamin’s personas are often at opposite ends of the spectrum and still hook the reader through the thought and emotions in their words. The sympathy they have for their subjects causes them to read as insightful and contemplative instead of preachy and judging. The detachment that comes through soul searching, and looking at the big picture allows the reader to believe them and the truth they are expressing. These aspects of the authors’ writings show them as both engaging and honest reads.

Mr. President

2009-05-13T17:48:00.000-07:00

I've seen or heard this clip several times now and it still stops me in my tracks. I'm thankful for John Piper's voice and his humility towards the issue of abortion.

Television: The Plug-In Drug

2009-03-19T12:01:00.000-07:00

Marie Winn, in her essay “Television: The Plug-In Drug” writes about the history of the television and its effects on families since it was introduced to our homes. She conveys that the television was initially seen as a great benefit to families by bringing them closer together. However, as society and television evolved it started becoming more and more obvious that the television was driving families to opposite ends of the home rather than gathering them together on the sofa. Now, families are hooked on a drug they can’t kick, because it allows them to avoid their problems and sometimes create new ones.

“Kill Your Television”. You’ve all seen the bumper sticker. Today, killing your television may actually be possible. Your television promises glimpses into reality by allowing you to watching people live in a house with strangers, or by watching people trying to survive on an island with nothing but their cunning to keep them alive (except for the crazy obstacle course in the jungle that can save them for another day). You can also take your TV with you wherever you go through the miracle of mobile phones. Have to go to work? Not a problem. Just pull out your phone and watch today’s edition of One Life to Live in the comfort of your cubicle. Television has become an almost living and breathing organism that is such a part of all of our daily lives that it has become another member of our families. Rather than slaying the TV beast, people and families are being murdered in their living rooms.

The television is such an integral part of American family life that it would be a miracle to think about the American family without it. The average American’s need for TV is almost staggering. Winn writes, “the medium has become so deeply ingrained in daily life that in many states the TV set has attained the range of a legal necessity, safe from repossession in case of debt along with the clothes and cooking utensils” (457). Is this scary to anyone else? Clothing could keep you alive if you were trapped in the woods eating bugs and tree branches. I could understand the need for cooking utensils as a necessity because in order to eat, some kind of utensils are needed, but the TV, why the TV? It just doesn’t even sound right. Clothes, check. Cooking utensils, check. TV, oh thank God they didn’t take that, check! We have become so reliant on it as if it was our life support and it was the only thing keeping us alive. Without the nightly news we’d never know what was going on, without the Daily Show we’d never laugh. One would never think about picking up a book or newspaper to learn about something. The fine art of trying is a thing of the past. All we have to do is hit the power button and use our thumb. We can claim that we’re learning or investing in something important but if asked about what we watched the night before, many of us would fail to remember. It wasn’t because it wasn’t interesting or we didn’t learn something but because there was no effort involved.

What is on TV isn’t even necessarily important to us anymore, especially our kids, they just need the security of the noise coming from the big black box. Maybe their parents don’t listen to them when they try and share or maybe their parents aren’t even around. Parents know that the TV is always there for the child if they can’t be. Winn writes, “They (kids) watch their favorite programs, and when there is “nothing much on I really like,” they watch whatever else is on – because watching is the important thing” (460). Barney cares about the child. You know the song, “I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family”. Why wouldn’t a child want to be part of that. Without the white noise coming from the other room, parents might actually have to raise the kids themselves. It’s ok though, if the program that makes them feel the most comfortable isn’t on, it doesn’t matter; they can watch an infomercial with Billy Mays and be enraptured with how interested he is in their needs and interests.

Kids aren’t the only ones that rely on Television for an escape though. Adults are just as guilty as using TV as a coping mechanism. TV has made it so easy for parents to just plop the kids down in front of it and go about their lives without the demands of the pesky kids running around. Winn describes a scene of the kids watching the TV while a couple enjoy a peaceful meal together, “surely the needs of the adults in that family were being better met than the needs of the children. The kids were effectively shunted away and rendered untroublesome, while their parents enjoyed a life as undemanding as that of any childless couple” (460).We’ve all seen the mother ignoring her child as she continues a conversation with another adult, totally unaware that little Billy is about to jump out of the shopping cart and land on his head. Parents can be totally unaware of the fact they have children and then when they realize that they have a child and have to care for it, it ticks them off. It’s almost as if they had nothing to with the child coming into existence, it just showed up in their house one day and now they’re really annoyed that they have to deal with it. The child is yours! Billy needs parents to love him and actually care about him. What if parents didn’t have a TV to babysit their kids? What if parents realized that the moment they became parents their goals in life changed forever. Their job became raising up the child to contribute to society, to respect others, and to learn about hard work. Are the parents exhibiting these traits by sitting the kids down in front of the TV while they enjoy a nice meal together? No, they’re taking the easy way and only thinking about their own well being and happiness and ignoring the child’s needs and desires.

Human nature is lazy and selfish. We are all like this. Paint us all with the same brush, there is no escaping ourselves. This laziness and selfishness becomes very evident in a family situation where things outside of the home have caused additional stress such as divorce, job loss or financial troubles. When the Television is added to this fragile situation the effects can be frightening. Winn writes, “the medium’s dominant role in the family serves to anesthetize parents into accepting their family’s diminished state and prevents them from struggling to regain some of the richness the family once possessed” (465). It is the role of the parents to pursue the kids and draw them out, and not be drawn to the one thing that may be causing all the damage in the first place. Parenting is a responsibility that a lot of parents don’t understand and shift that responsibility over to a black box. Dad used to come home and want to play with the kids and tell them what he did that day. He longed to visit with his wife and see what her day was like. Unfortunately, now he just comes home and plops himself down in front of the TV and zones out. It wasn’t always like this. The kids felt the richness of being in a family that loved each other, a richness that couldn’t have been replaced with anything. As Dad started to model to his kids what relaxing and comfort looked like, they began to pursue the same outlets and eventually the whole family got hooked.

The selfishness and laziness that we all have breeds a state of unconsciousness in a family. Life goes by outside the window while we get distracted by the next “Biggest Loser”. Parents become unaware that the TV is doing their job and kids are unaware that they are worshiping a plugged in piece of electronics. What we worship takes our time, and our money. Americans spend more on TVs than most people in third world countries make in a year. Then once we get the perfect TV, we sit and stare at it like we’re waiting for it to ask us how our day was. Winn writes, “In spite of everything, the American family muddles on, dimly aware that something is amiss but distracted from an understanding of its plight by an endless stream of television images” (465). Images come to mind of Alex from the film A Clockwork Orange sitting in front of all those disturbing images with his eye lids pried open, unable to close them. The only difference being that he didn’t want to be there, we however willingly subject ourselves to the influx of millions of images every week. We crave watching people hurt themselves; we crave other people’s misfortunes. The happy ending will someday be replaced by the divorce and splitting up of the assets. Kids need parents though. Parents who care enough about them to not let the TV raise them, no matter how educational the program is. Nothing can replace the interaction between a parent and child if done in love. Parents are real people. An actor on Sesame Street doesn’t know your child’s problems or what they learned in school that day. A parent can ask specific questions and find out what makes their child special and different from any other child. They can learn to love that child for who he or she is. To a TV program, a child is just a customer that they’re trying to please, and they’ll do almost anything to get the child hooked.

What is the Television turning families into and what will become of the family in the years to come? Kids come home, grab something to eat from the refrigerator, sit down on the couch or their bed and turn on TV for the next couple of hours. Parents get home, yell at the kids for not doing their homework, and tell them to come get their dinner before it gets cold. They take it back to their rooms, pretend to do their homework and fall asleep. This cycle is endless. What if the TV wasn’t the most important household appliance in the house? Imagine a child coming home from school, ignoring his homework to play outside with all the other kids whose parent’s decided the TV was tearing their families apart and got rid of it. Unfortunately, I don’t see that happening anytime soon because we and our future generations are hooked on a drug that there isn’t a support group for. A drug that feels better than any hallucinogenic or upper, it’s a drug that knows us, speaks to us, and numbs us while the outside world just floats by.

Put Your Pants On

2009-03-01T20:59:00.002-08:00

Where’s your pants? Why are you just sitting there? Your baby is crying, your wife needs help with the dishes. Put down that porn magazine, turn off your Xbox and put your pants on, please, your family is depending on you, society is depending on you, we’re all depending on you to be the man you’re supposed to be. You might be asking yourself, “What does it mean to be a man?” Dictionaries define a man as someone who is an adult male person, as distinguished from a boy or a woman. “Well, that’s me” you say. Wrong, boys run around in their underwear, playing video games and have a mommy and a boy is what you are. Don’t worry though, you’re not alone, there are millions of “men” just like you, sitting at home while their wife works her two jobs, too lazy to get a job and provide for your family, sucking on the teet of society. Thank God Obama got elected, now you can get your stimulus check and buy some more video games. Go ahead and stimulate that economy!
Men are like trucks. We need a weight on our shoulders to feel important and to drive straight. Without that load we’re all squirrely and stop at every rest stop along the way. Whether it be the strip club, the hot chick walking down the street, or the hottest new video game since World of Warcraft, we are easily distracted from what we’re supposed to be doing. That weight is ours and we’re not supposed to transfer that weight to our wives and kids. They need us, they want us to lead them. If you are not providing for your family financially and emotionally you’re not only failing them but society also.
A woman gets up at 6am, gets ready for work, cooks breakfast for her husband and the kids. A beautiful picture of a home right? What I didn’t tell you is that her husband is still asleep on the couch from a long night of Halo 3. Why does she have to do this? Why is she providing the physical, emotional and financial needs for the whole family, including the husband? Why is she compensating for his laziness? This is killing the family. The kids might have a great time with Dad but its only because he knows how to play all their favorite video games. When they need someone to have a serious conversation with, they immediately go to Mom because she’s got her head on straight and a certain amount of wisdom that they don’t pickup from the Dad. They can’t respect him if he’s just on older child. They need someone to be a Dad. Someone that works hard, shows them the right way to live and teaches them what it means to be a respectful adult. Unfortunately, he’s wasted it because he’s just another kid for the wife to take care of.
Or maybe the husband has a job but the wife works too. They both go to work early and come home late. The kids never see them because they drop them off at daycare all day. Trying to keep up with the Jones’, this is just the way it has to be. Times are tough, and they need the extra money. Unfortunately, if the wife isn’t pulling in $30-50k a year, they aren’t making any extra money at all. When daycare, work clothing, car expenses, and taxes all get factored in, things start to add up. Maybe the husband should get a second job and have the wife stay home and raise the kids, because this is often overlooked as an important job in itself. Who better to raise them than the woman who birthed them? The weight of providing financially should be on his shoulders not hers, he needs the weight to drive straight.
Marriages and home life haven’t always been like this. Men used to be the sole provider for their families. They used to go to work all day, come home and play with the kids, have dinner with the family and actually care about what their wife did during the day. They longed to spend time with their wives because they loved them and didn’t see them as an asset to be exploited. What happened? Why isn’t this the case anymore? The history of dating can help to shed some light on what caused men to stop and women to start providing for their families. The typical date nowadays starts by the man picking up the woman in his car from her place or maybe even her parent’s place. Then they head out to dinner, where he lets her pay her half of the bill. Then go to a movie, where she buys her own popcorn and soda. Why does she have to pay for anything? This pattern starts on the first date and continues throughout the relationship. The term “date” was a term prostitutes used for their “hook ups”. Instead of dating, couples used to court each other. The boy would go to the girls’ house, have dinner with the family and that’s it. This would continue until the parents agreed that the boy was suitable for their daughter. Then the car was invented. Boys could take the girl out, buy them dinner and go to movies. After dinner and a movie, the woman often felt obligated to give sex in return for the entertainment. How is that unlike prostitution? Sex in exchange for goods. The women start paying their way so they don’t owe the men anything. Men weren’t under the supervision of parents so they felt entitled to do whatever they wanted to or with the girls, whether it be rape, abuse, or just a little demeaning of the woman, men thought they deserved something and would do whatever they wanted to get what the wanted. In response, the women’s movement started gaining steam to protect women from this gross mistreatment and to give them equal rights as the men. Women are indeed equal to men and if the men had treated them as women instead of pets that they could do whatever they wanted to with, a lot of the women’s movement would have been unnecessary. The women’s movement has come far, unfortunately, men are still looking for an easy lay and a nice piece of meat for their arm, driving the man and woman further apart.
Where would we be today if all men were hard working dudes. If a man woke up before his whole family, worked hard all day and came home to play with his kids and love his wife, we wouldn’t face nearly as many welfare situations, kids wouldn’t grow up as part of the system but rather as part of a family where they knew they were loved and could respect their father rather than wish he wasn’t alive. These kids are our future. We have to pour into them. It’s not that a mother is incapable of working but that a father is more respectable when he is. If a man can’t be respected by his own family, what benefit can he be to society?
In society today there is so much emphasis on our future. You’ll hear things like “go green”, “reduce your carbon footprint” or “we can’t let our future generations inherit our mess”. All these things are true and we must act and act now but not by supporting companies that are carbon neutral but by giving children Dads who work hard at their jobs, can’t wait to come home and play with them, and who look to serve their wives above the call of duty. These traits have to be passed on to our children or they are doomed to repeat our mistakes. Doomed to mistake boys for men. Men should be distinguishable from boys, they should be the men their families need. So men, please, take off the sweats and put on some pants with a zipper.

Can Sesame Street Raise My Kid for Me?

2009-02-20T15:09:00.000-08:00

Had an interesting discussion in my English 101 class today. Apparently, Sesame street is about to unveil an HIV positive Muppet in Africa for kids to learn tolerance towards people with HIV. Education about HIV doesn't seem to be the problem but more the stigma that goes along with having HIV. The Muppet will teach kids tolerance and an understanding of the sickness. This raises some interesting questions. Should TV be teaching our kids? What are parents doing while the TV is teaching their kids? I know not all of these questions apply directly to the situation in Africa where by next year there will be almost 2 million orphans due to the AIDS epidemic. But is it ok, in certain situations for television to teach our kids? A child will undoubtedly learn from a television, whether we like it or not but is it OK for parents to substitute teaching a child about HIV or anything for a TV to teach a child?

my name is jonas

2009-01-31T21:55:00.001-08:00

my name is jonas from Rob Maxfield on Vimeo.

Mr. Gigglesworth

2009-01-31T13:29:00.000-08:00

My Baby's All Growns Up

2009-01-31T13:19:00.000-08:00

And Then There Were Three

2009-01-26T16:38:00.000-08:00

Night had finally come to a sunless day. The sound of my wallet and keys hitting the bedside table and my shoes hitting the back wall of the closet were all too familiar. “Where are my sweats?” I said to myself. It had been an especially long day and another long day was coming quick in the morning. On top of all this I was trying to murder a cold that wouldn’t go away. I’d had it for almost two weeks and sleep was the only thing I wanted. I needed help, adrenaline was still flowing through my veins like a time lapsed freeway. Gulp. Down went the Nyquil. Not ten minutes after taking the Nyquil and my head hitting the pillow, my wife Liz calmly but sharply said, “Whoa, I think that was a real one.” She had the look of someone that had just been stabbed in the stomach and wasn’t really sure whether or not to pull the knife out or leave it in. I wanted to pull the knife out for her but there was no stopping my eyelids; they were going down.

A couple of short hours after falling asleep, Liz woke me up. The earthquakes were getting closer together. We’d never been pregnant before so we didn’t really know what to do. The breathing classes don’t prepare you for the real thing. We’d never had any “how to give birth” drills in elementary school and reading a book or watching a birth video seemed incredibly inadequate at this point. I was just trying to wake up let alone prepare for the birth of my son. We told each other, “The doctor should know what to do, shouldn’t she?” It was the middle of the night so our doctor would be paged and then call us back. Those 15 minutes lasted forever. The air in the house was getting harder to breath. “Lungs should be working; I’m not a Marlboro man.” I thought. Was this it or were we just nervous rookies up at our first major league at bat. I can still hear the doctor calmly saying, “Well, I think you should head to the hospital”. To counter her calmness, I started running around the house, picking up anything that we might need just in case we got lost on a deserted island somewhere between our house and the hospital. We grabbed the diaper bag, our five cases of luggage and some snacks and were on our way.

The short trip to the hospital was like something out of a George Romero movie, minus the walking dead people. It was pouring down rain. The cemetery across the street from the hospital seemed a bit too obvious. Life and death were battling in the street. It was pitch black, and there was almost no one on the roads. Perfectly selected birth music and Liz’s short, pain filled breaths filled the car. We were on the adventure into parenthood all by ourselves.

Checking into the hospital moved quickly once the nurse heard Liz have one of her contractions. “Ok, we can do this paperwork later” she said. Once we got into our room, time sped up. Everything was coming at us in light speed, like when Marty McFly hit 88 mph. Nurses were hooking Liz up to all kinds of machines. One of them must have been a flux capacitor. I was filling out the paperwork…life was getting blurry. Who am I, when was I born, what’s my address, am I a US citizen?

The room itself was clean; clean like a hospital should be. The nurse was so routine about everything. She asked questions that you’d ask a statistic, “How are you feeling? On of a scale of 1 to 10, rate your pain.” Didn’t she understand? We were about to have our first kid and she’s talking to us like nothing is going on. I wanted to grab her by the neck of her flowery scrubs and shake some sense into her, fortunately for her and my criminal record; I was too tired to make that move.

I was a zombie, walking around on Nyquil, just trying to stay standing. Where had the sleep I so desperately needed gone to? Liz was pacing the room just trying to manage. She couldn’t lie down because someone had put knives in her back and you can’t sleep while you’re standing. “We’re pregnant” had a whole new meaning.

Several painful hours had passed and it was late morning. Suddenly, Liz had the urge to throw up. She did, which seemed unexpected. I knew that a there’s a lot of juices during a delivery but for some reason I hadn’t counted on vomit being one of them. Soon after I noticed more nurses and equipment coming into the room. I felt like everyone knew something that I didn’t. I asked one of the nurses,

“Are we getting close or something?”

She replied, “When the fluids start flying, it’s usually a good indicator”.

I definitely needed a breather. I sat down and my head went immediately into my hands. I was about to have a baby. I was about to be responsible for another human being. I could handle being responsible for my wife; she’s an adult, but a helpless little baby, that was a whole new ballgame. Whether it was the thought of feeding every 15 minutes or sending my baby to college, I just wasn’t sure I was cut out for this. My baby was going to need me more than any other person in the world. I never thought that being needed would be so frightening. I could feel myself breaking out. I needed a walk.

Down the hallway I ran into members of our families that had somehow shown up and were sitting in the lobby. The nervousness mixed with excitement on their faces was so clear it was almost written. Parents were about to become grandparents for the first time, brothers and sisters turning to aunts and uncles. The seasons were changing for all of us. Winter was about to become spring. Life was coming and there was nothing that we could do to stop it.

After an update for the family I found myself back in the room amidst chaos. Liz had started pushing. 88 mph seemed like nothing now. Hours flew by. Tears and screams of “I can’t do this anymore!” were commonplace but somehow with every contraction she continued to push harder and harder. I saw her then as the woman I had met three years earlier and was reminded of why I love her. I knew her as the strong woman who grew up moving every couple of years and living on her own in a foreign country. This was a whole new kind of strong that I’d never seen in her before. I was convinced now that she was not only made for me but also made to be a mother.

The screams of “PUSH!” began filling the room. Trying to be optimistic and not lie is very difficult to do. I honestly did think our baby was almost out. His head had been visible for over an hour and I was sure that it was just a matter of time until we were holding our baby in our arms. Three hours had passed and our arms were still empty. I was beginning to question whether this baby was ever going to get here. Liz’s face was drenched in sweat and her pushes were becoming weaker and weaker. I wanted this to be over, not for myself but for Liz. “Come on baby, almost here!” I yelled over and over again with every contraction. I didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up and I wasn’t sure if she would.

Suddenly, as if God himself had come down and told our baby to come out, my son appeared. My, son. I have a son. Tears filling my eyes, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or curl up in the fetal position. Somebody flipped a switch that turned on an indescribable joy. Warmth came over my body that carried with it a desire to be a father. I looked at my son as he lie on my wife’s chest, he was perfect. He was covered in goo, had a wookie like cone head and his nose was flattened, but he was perfect. He looked like he just went 12 rounds. I was waiting for him to yell out “Adrian!”

“Is his nose normal?” I asked one of the nurses with an equal amount of worry and fear in my voice.

“Oh, yeah. A lot of the time their noses actually get broken on the way out.” She said.

I did a quick check for all ten fingers and ten toes, they were all there. He could have been Sigourney Weaver’s alien baby and I wouldn’t have cared, nothing was going to convince me that my boy wasn’t perfect.

We spent the next couple of days at the hospital admiring our new baby boy. We named him Jonas. We were constantly trying to figure out what each different sounding cry meant in between diaper changes that occur every 3.4 seconds. It seemed as if every five minutes someone new would come into our room asking us if we wanted to run tests on him or take pictures of him. I just wanted to be alone with my boy. Frustration reached its peak when I had the urge to bite the photographer’s head off. I just wanted to get home and sleep. I could hear my bed calling my name.

I headed to the hospital that night desperate for sleep. I go to bed every night still desperate for sleep, a sleep that never comes. It’s been seven weeks and I’m not convinced that life is never going to be the same for us. Our son is going to grow up and become an adult and we are responsible for how responsible he is. We’re responsible for the kind of dad he will be one day. The weight of this hits me every time that I hold him. It is a weight that I wouldn’t give away for anything in the world. The weight is a gift.

slumber jr.

2008-12-18T23:25:00.000-08:00

Jonas Michael Maxfield

2008-12-08T21:42:00.000-08:00

Today is the first day of Jonas Michael Maxfield's life. It was an amazing day. Elizabeth is the strongest woman I've ever seen and Jonas was a champ too. He's a healthy little guy weighing in at 8lbs 13oz and 20" long. Children are a blessing from the Lord and I have never fully realized that until this day. May God bless you someday with the gift of a child. Here are some pictures of the little fighter and his Ma n' Pa.

2008-11-11T14:57:00.001-08:00

using ping.fm

Joe "The Vampire" Biden

2008-11-10T17:04:00.000-08:00

You gotta love those kids

Election 2008

2008-10-31T14:37:00.000-07:00

The election is only 4 days away now and will probably be one of the most important elections in the history of our country. This years election raises a lot of issues for people, christian or non, black or white, male or female. Here's a video of one of my favorite pastors, explaining what the issues of this election are and how Christians are called to act.

The Undead

2008-10-27T21:28:00.000-07:00

Our pastor's anniversary happens to be on Halloween so every year they throw a party. It was a week early (you didn't miss Halloween). This years theme was Zombie. Liz went as Bare Foot and Pregnant Zombie and I went as Jack Shepherd Zombie.

Zombie self portraits

Rob scaring you really bad

That thing Zombies always do with their hands

A variation of the hand thing that Zombies do

More hands

Jack's Tats

Vancouver '08

2008-10-27T21:05:00.001-07:00

We recently took a trip to Vancouver to see how people live in the great white north. Turns out they live pretty much like us. That whole metric system is pretty handy too, you actually know how far a distance is, the numbers aren't just pulled out of a hat. I'd like our next presidential election to be all about who will adopt the metric system for the US. Here's some pics of us enjoying the freedom that the metric system allowed us to have.

Super Model Baby Momma

More Belly (Bump)

Straight Hood

Rocky Racoon

Rob was never seen from again after the alligator accident

VIFF...saw a really depressing italian mafia film "sodom and gomorrah"

2008-10-05T22:11:00.001-07:00

Updated Patio Shots, the 5th fairway at Augusta, and a man child

2008-09-30T18:42:00.000-07:00

Genoveva requested some shots with the big pots we put on our patio so here you go. The grass is looking awfully good right now so I couldn't pass up taking a few shots of that too and as an added bonus, a picture of a man trapped inside of a little boys body.

Some of the new pots and a cow hiding under a blue tarp

If you look close enough you can see nothing but grass

Elijah "The Foreman" Forehand

To my fans

2008-09-29T21:42:00.001-07:00

To all my fans,

I would like to issue a formal apology. You may have noticed over the last year or so that there was a certain grammatical error on our blog. Previously, under the title of our blog it read "we are the maxfield's and this is our blog". It should have read "we are the maxfields and this is our blog". I ask your forgiveness as I have recently come into my own with the use of apostrophes and when to and when not to use them. I'm sorry if I have let any of you down. Please forgive me.

To cheer you up after this crushing news, here is a picture of one of my heroes.

Jonas Blank Maxfield

2008-09-29T21:22:00.000-07:00

Here's our little boy. These were taken about 10 weeks ago.

I think he's got my nose.

He's all man

Bulge

2008-09-29T21:15:00.000-07:00

Liz's belly is getting bigger, here is our first belly picture...I know what you're thinking, I'm sorry that I'm such a slacker. She's so cute though. God is good. 72 days until D-Day

Earth, Patio & Fire

2008-08-20T07:43:00.000-07:00

This last weekend we had a work party for my birthday and tons of friends and family came over and blessed us with a bunch of help. We managed to finish the patio and paint the outside of the garage, and finish painting the house. Thanks again for all who helped out. Here are some pictures of the finished product.

The huge pile of pavers just waiting for us

The Next Day

The Fire Pit

Hip Hop is for everyone

2008-06-26T23:07:00.000-07:00

Recently hippity hopper Lacrae was in town and stopped by Mars Hill to play with one of our worship bands Red Letter. Here's a little video of the their collaboration.

'Send Me' - Live at MHC | Ballard from Mars Hill Church on Vimeo.

Su..Su..Sudio...ohhhh oohhhh

2008-06-12T16:21:00.000-07:00

My dad and I have recently started working on converting our garage to a new art studio for Liz. I'd like to get this done and have the basement converted by the time the baby comes. Raise your hand if you think that will happen. Me neither. Here's some photos of the progress so far.

Somebody didn't square up the door properly, that really sucked.

Still working on the door. That's a window framed out to the left.

Another window framed out.

The mess...

The window installed on the east side of the garage.

Gotta keep my baby warm.

Some wiring and stuff.

View from the east side of the garage.

Ultra Baby!

2008-06-02T17:43:00.000-07:00

Here's what our baby looks like. I think it looks like a girl. All cute and stuff

officially trendy

2008-04-30T22:25:00.001-07:00

www.fury.muxtape.com

Our baby is bigger than yours!

2008-04-23T21:24:00.000-07:00

Yeah that's right, you heard me. We're having a baby. Liz is 7 weeks pregnant and the baby is the size of a ladybug I hear. That's about a 1/4" for those of you who don't know what a ladybug looks like. Next week our baby explodes to about a 1/2". He/She is becoming so big!

Model Remodel

2008-04-08T17:56:00.001-07:00

Here's our new kitchen everyone. It's been a long, tedious, and often hate filled process but it has turned out well and we're still married. Just in case you were wondering, Liz keeps our kitchen looking this good all the time, its not just for the photo shoot.

Nothing like kids getting angry at politicians

2008-01-31T09:45:00.000-08:00

Angry Killer

2008-01-14T22:38:00.000-08:00

Today is Monday and on Saturday Liz and I got into an argument about her willingness and desire to manage our household. This came after asking me for more help around the house. I had just spent most of the week plastering the walls in our kitchen, which caused a rather large mess, which I felt should be cleaned by someone else other than me because I was working hard on the walls. Jesus kicked me in the balls later that night when I read the sixth chapter of Life as a Vapor by John Piper entitled, Kill Anger Before It Kills You and Your Marriage. God revealed to me that anger has many disguises like picky criticism and relentless correction. One of Piper's thoughts to help see Christ in times of Anger was to Ponder the right of Christ to be angry, but how he endured the cross, as an example of long suffering. God hates sin, is angry at sin and Christ endured the sins of the world without anger but love, and future joy. I can’t even handle being asked to help around the house more.

Leeeeeeeeeeeeeroy!

2007-12-05T21:38:00.000-08:00

I've never played World of Warcraft but I think you can get a pretty good idea of the type of guy that would. I can picture him now, he's wearing sweat pants, one sock and stained white t-shirt with cheetos cheese and mountain dew stains. He's got that weird kind of beard that looks like really long dark peach fuzz and his glasses are fogged up because he's sweating so much. And then there's Leroy, who is just the kind of guy that will tick of cheetos boy by ruining his game. I hope you enjoy the clip. You may want to turn down the volume and not watch it around the youngsters.

my wife, the beautiful

2007-11-12T14:00:00.000-08:00

I'd like to introduce my wife to the blog. After all it is our family blog. We sat down the other night for a little question and answer session. Here's what she has to say about the blogosphere, me, and everything else.

Rob: What are you feeling on the night before you get introduced to the internet?

Liz: Well, I'm a little worried that too much information about me will get out there. With identity theft what it is these days. These could be the end of our lives as we know them.

R: Well it sounds like you're a little depressed. That suprises me, because there are millions of people who would like to be in your shoes...that is, on robbylog, the #1 blog among people that have nothing better to do than read stupid blogs about people they don't know.

L: I know, the truth is I really don't care about our blog. No one reads it, no one sees it, except you that is.

R: Moving on...what are you working on these days?

L: I've got a lot of art lessons going on at our house. I'm teaching kids. It's been really fun.

R: What do you like best about being married to me?

L: Wow, there's so many things, I might have to wait until part two of our conversation to come up with my favorite thing about you. It may be how well you moderate our blog.

R: That's what I would probably say. Our blog is pretty awesome isn't it?

L: No, I was just saying that to be nice.

R: Alright, on that note, let's conclude our interview.

L: Ok, can you promise me that I'll never have to do this again?

R: No

For the record, this interview was not real. It was created by me because Liz didn't even want to do it. She doesn't really have time to do interviews on our blog because she is so busy modeling. Here are some pictures of her pretty face.

Maxfield Open

2007-11-12T13:23:00.001-08:00

The competition for the Maxfield Open took place in late September. After 3 grueling days of competition I again was victorious. I've now won 5 out of 7 years and the last 3 years and may never lose another tournament. Here are some photos of the send off.

That trophy never left my hand all weekend!

Those were the last smiles seen on their faces,

especially that time I eagled hole #5

Our little trees are all growns up

2007-09-06T10:40:00.000-07:00

I don't know if any of you got to see it at all last night but our little tree situation has caught the attention of King 5 news. They came out to take some pictures and do some filming of the trees. Most of the shots in the video are of our trees. Here's the link to the article they put up on King 5.com.

http://www.king5.com/localnews/stories/NW_090507WAB_tree_trim_KS.a4ae32d2.html

The Tree Monsters!

2007-08-11T21:56:00.000-07:00

Ah Seattle

What a lovely city. So green and blue. The people here really love their city and want to keep it clean. And the trees, so many trees, so big and tall and beautiful. Who would have thought in a city like this that the crappiest tree trimmers would exist. These chop happy little people paid a little visit to the trees at our house. Unfortunately, some of our trees were running through the power lines. Here are some pictures of how really, really great things turned out.

Painting the Barn Phase 1 "Tha Facade"

2007-07-10T18:05:00.000-07:00

We started painting our house Sunday morning. Currently I'm sunburned and it hurts to squeeze my right hand and raise my arm. Here are some pictures of the progress so far.

Look at all that sanding that needed to be done. I was blowing paint dust out of my nose for hours.

75% baby!

Guess who's back!

2007-06-24T21:19:00.000-07:00

Television history was made today in the Maxfield household. Tony Almeida returned to 24. He saved Jack and the secretary of defense's daughter from terrorists. Here are some sweet shots of the action.

Jack peers around the corner...he needs some help here people!

Oh no, he's out of bullits

Don't mess with Tony Almeida sucka!

Honey, the pooper keeps getting plugged!

2007-06-21T21:49:00.000-07:00

Recently we had to dig up the sewer line in our driveway. Here are some awesome pictures of an awesome hole in the ground

No don't kill him!

4213

2007-06-21T21:29:00.000-07:00

Recently we bought a house in Lake City, a suburb of Seattle. Here's a picture of the house in 1938.

A few weeks ago we wanted to make it a little prettier.
Before....

And happily ever after....until the squirrels and ants attacked them

free stuff

2007-02-18T12:11:00.000-08:00

For those of you who can't read like me, a website called http://www.christianaudio.com/ gives away free audio books by downloadable mp3 every month. So far i've gotten great titles from Charles Spurgeon, John Bunyan, and Andrew Murray.

i've been struggling with some sin lately, mostly revolving around sports talk radio in my car, and this website has really helped me avoid that temptation. i would encourage you all to get on the bus.

record review: sam's town - the killers

2007-01-26T18:18:00.000-08:00

if you'll notice to the right, i've added a new list to the site. the top 5 albums made in the 80's. i did that because i didn't want you to actually miss out on good music that came out in the 80's. you may ask, what are you talking about...sam's town came out in 2006. i know, i know...you're all gonna try and convince me that sam's town came out in 2006 but i'm here to tell you. its a simple recreation of everything popular with the 80's subtract the lo-fi and add the stadium rock sound. the worst thing about this album are the way too over produced backing vocals, they remind me of a picture i saw of an almost dead plastic elizabeth taylor cuddling with a full grown bear. just wrong.

it starts off with the title track. let me first say that i have no idea what any of these songs are about. do they make sense? are they a cohesive thought? no. the drummer reminds me of a blogger that just keeps typing to hear himself. i think the volume goes up to 11 when the chorus hits. after he's done singing about grandma dixie the album goes quiet with the interlude. a nice chord progression, i feel invited to have fun with the album. here's to hope!

next up the single, i guess it was the first single because it sounded different. we're supposed to feel like they've grown up i guess, now that they're all cowboys. they should have drank a little less devil's water when they chose they're clothes.

skipping a few forgettable songs we arrive at track 5, read my mind. brian eno synth, and a good melody. i think its the best song on the album until the drummer ruins it.

up next uncle jonny, i think i've figured out why this song sucks. brandon flowers doesn't appear to have come from the best background which may have caused him to write not the best song. let's all celebrate, his uncle did cocaine!

then we move to the Frankenstein sounding background vocals of bones. an obvious hit that little girls will scream about when they come to town. a hear a lot of the e street band in this one. i guess if you're gonna rip some people off it might as well be the best backing band ever assembled.

the album should have ended there, but unfortunately it didn't. we go to my list, which sounds like a somebody said "hey, let's make a really weird structured song with a weird synth and let's all gather around the mic and sing really loud and spit all over each other" and then someone said, "yeah, yeah! that'd be awesome man!"

i'll skip the river is wild song because it's worth skipping, which brings us to why do i keep counting? the album gets serious. he's asking for help. he needs us all. he needs us to go out and buy his album so he can go blow it on coke.

all in all the album isn't really as bad as i've made it out to be, but what can you expect its a band that teenage girls love, we should all really hate it. will i listen to this album more? did i enjoy my stay in sam's town? i guess i would compare it to staying in a hotel with cockroaches...at least its a roof over my head. i will admit if a had a teenage daughter i'd rather she listen to this than lindsey lohan. bush vs. kerry...the lesser of two evils

Grace for All

2006-11-30T17:38:00.000-08:00

What I most enjoyed about the book All of Grace by C.H. Spurgeon were the great sense of compassion the author had for the reader and the apologetic aspects of the book.

In a day when compassion for other people and actually caring about what they are going through is so sparse it was refreshing to hear Spurgeon plead with me to love Jesus. When he says “Oh, receive the Lord Jesus into your soul, and you will live forever” I get the sense that he loves me and wants to see me in heaven even though he lived over a hundred years before I was even born. I think one of the great struggles for the church is to have a heart for the unreached. Not only to be thankful for our salvation but to want other people to have that salvation is something that is lacking in so much of our lives. I know that so many times I have had to force myself to pray for a heart that will love people. It was so refreshing to read a book by someone that had a genuine heart for me.

I’ve been commanded to be an evangelist by God and this book was a great example of how to explain the gospel to non-Christians. Spurgeon didn’t leave any room for us to escape without completely accepting or denying Christ and his work on the cross. He was very good at reading the readers mind and answering any questions we might have. In chapter 11, he takes many excused for our lack of following after Christ and refutes them all with basically one verse: “when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly.” We don’t have excuses not to follow Christ because he is our strength and our salvation. Praise God for that!

God is not...

2006-11-22T13:34:00.000-08:00

God is not the easter clown

God has many attributes. Some of which we are able to understand and know, and others which we are unable to comprehend fully. One of the major ways in which we can know God and his attributes is to be in relationship with him. Much like when you spend enough time with someone, you begin to gain an understanding of who they are and how they behave. Another way in which we can know and understand God is through theology, the study of God. Through theology we can begin to learn what God is and what He isn’t. Being able to know how God acts or behaves, as best we can, can help us in evangelism, apologetics, and our own personal lives. It is my personal opinion that knowing the attributes of God, what he is and what he isn’t, is the best way to know God.

In my personal relationship with God I am quick to hold on to his sovereignty, omniscience and immutability. I love the sovereignty of God. It is so dear to me when living through the many trials that I have and will face in my life. To know that there is someone in control of this mess and that he is perfect and can have no wrong intentions is so comforting. Open theism commonly attacks the omniscience and sovereignty of God. I hate open theism. In an open theistic world, I’ve created the mess around me completely. There is no father going before his son with a flashlight through the woods.

Another attribute of God, which he has fortunately shared with us, is love. An attribute of God that I don’t think I fully understood until I heard John Piper speak at the reformission conference in 2004. I was only able to fully realize his deep love for us by realizing my great iniquities. My whole life I had been asking why God didn’t save everyone. At that conference my question became, why did God choose me? Only a truly loving, gracious God could look past my failures and still love me. Since that day it has been a quest to understand how to live in his grace and not my works. I believe my true conversion happened at that conference.

If you’ve noticed I have described only two of the attributes of God, it blatantly yells of my lack of knowledge of who God is. I can only pray through this process and Lord willing a full life of time in his scriptures that I will become closer everyday to knowing the true God and what he is and what he isn’t.

Trinitarianisticism

2006-10-30T22:21:00.000-08:00

Trinitarianism is a crucial theological issue, which many Christians find hard to wrap their minds around. I myself have troubles understanding it beyond the Sunday school lesson explanations. I believe comparing the perfect unity of the Trinity to other theistic beliefs is important to do, to strengthens ones own understanding of it.

In order to come to an understanding of the theology of God and more specifically the Trinity we must have a God with contours and edges. We must know who God is and who God isn’t. We can only do this with much prayer and petitioning to God that he would enlighten our minds so that we can see his grace for what it really is. We must also view scripture as inherently God’s word and respect it as a double edged sword that can cut through our hard hearts.

The trinity is the belief that God exists in three persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The three persons of the Trinity are constantly working together as one to accomplish the same goal, to give glory to Themselves. The Father created the world and sent his Son to save the world that rejected him. The Son experienced an excruciating death and is now seated beside the father in heaven, which we worship through the help of the Holy Spirit.

Atheism is the belief that there is no God or gods/goddesses. A belief system that would have been completely unbelievable in Old Testament times, which assumes that everyone believes in God, the God of the Trinity. Psalm 14:1 and 53:1 state “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.” The failure of atheism is that it requires our fallen minds to have complete knowledge of all things. 2 Corinthians states: The God of this age has blinded the mind of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.

Believers in Agnosticism state that we only have access to the physical world around, and cannot begin to know the spiritual world or God. The bible states the exact opposite. Agnosticism being almost right states that we can’t know God, however errors by not thinking that God can reveal himself to us, which allows us to know him, specifically Jesus who came in human form to earth.

Polytheism states that there are and can be many gods or goddesses. We see over and over again the consequences of this belief by reading almost any portion of scripture. One example would be the story of Jeroboam in 1 Kings 12. He constructed idols to worship and as a result dogs and birds ended up eating his family. An extreme example, but not nearly as extreme as spending eternity in hell for worshipping the wrong god or goddess.

Monotheism is the belief in one God. Monotheism is very close to Christianity. Christianity is more than another monotheistic religion however. God is not satisfied with a belief in a God. Many people believe in one god, be it money, power or sex. God requires us to worship him alone, the one true God exactly how he is revealed to us through the scriptures.

With so many views of what and who God is, the world has so many choices as to whom to worship. I argue along with Christ that there is only one true God, which we should worship. Christ states in John 14:6 “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Amen.

Who am I?...I don't know. Looks like you've got some things to ponder

2006-10-23T16:54:00.000-07:00

In the upcoming weeks i will be posting papers that i've been required to write for the deacon process at Mars Hill Church. I hope you find them educational and informational. I'm sorry for the long absence too, writer's block and too much going on are bad combinations.

Proving the existence of God:
The existence of God can be proven in several different ways; following is a summary of arguments for the existence of the true God.

Ontological: Brought forth by the philosopher Anselm of Canterbury, this argument proves the existence of God by stating that humans are constantly aware of a perfect and greater being than themselves. This being is as perfect as humanly imaginable. Also, since humans are only able to envision that which exists, God must exist. To summarize this argument states that God exists because humans can imagine he exists.

Teleological: This argument takes the avenue of creation and the intelligent mind that created it. It is hard to escape the beauty and order of creation, and to ignore that is to ignore its creator. The amount of intricacies and exactness in the world are not mechanical but creative processes being orchestrated by God. The illustrations of a watch or an airplane have commonly been used to illustrate this point. Watches and airplanes are not randomly brought together by powers outside of them, they are however created by humans, much like the world was created by the hand of God.

Cosmological: Simply stated this argument follows the relationship between cause and effect. There is no reaction if there is no action. God spoke the world into existence, and the world was created. Things are not created from themselves, but rather things or in this case, beings outside of them. God is eternal; he has no beginning or end allowing him to be the creator and sovereign ruler of the world.

Kalam: This argument originated with medieval Muslim philosophers, which argued that since time exists God must exist. Similar to the Cosmological argument in that in order for time to exist, something outside of time had to create it. The reference point of time beginning was created by God.

Morality: Every (sane) created being has a sense of right and wrong built in, referred to commonly as a conscience. Where does this conscience come from? We are created in the image of God, which gives a moral compass helping us to determine what is right and wrong. It is when we ignore our consciences that we fall into sin and reject God.

settlers of satan....i mean catan

2006-08-21T11:29:00.000-07:00

i've recently had the privilege of becoming a nerd. it blew me away how fun it was.

some of you may have heard of the adult board game called "Settlers of Catan". i say adult not because of the content but because children just wouldn't understand, in fact the last time i played it, the kids had to be put to sleep...i mean bed.

this game really sucks you in, i was definitely skeptical at first. just watching the game being played you'll hear statements like "i'll give you wood for your sheep, or i really need some wood, or do you have any wood for me?" how could i not want to join in on the fun?

the game lasts for hours, depending on who you play with, it can be long excruciating hours. during the game play your heart is racing. i find myself saying "alright, i can win! i can win! i can win!" and then i lose. the crushing defeat usually takes me about a half hour to get over, unless there is another game coming up, then i'm instantly thinking about how to change my strategy.

i've never done crack but i'm sure that "settlers" is very similar. the rush of building a city, the enjoyment of building the longest road and then the crushing defeat all have to parallel the story arc of doing crack.

i pray you don't do crack, but rather would become addicted to settlers so you can come over to my house and we can do it on the coffee table.

here's a link if you need your fix http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Settlers_of_Catan

confronting our lameness

2006-08-14T23:39:00.000-07:00

why am i so lame, or for that matter, why are we all so lame?

when faced with a confrontation i squirm like gollum.

that's me->

i am currently in the process of working up the courage to confront two people in my life. one of them is my neighbor above me, who tends to forget that ash on a balcony doesn't make my wife happy, (the other will remain nameless until confronting has taken place.) it's been happening for 2 months now, i've walked by his room once, and even braved up the courage to knock on his door once...thank God he didn't answer or I would have had to of talked to him. two things would happen if i grew some balls and talked to this guy. my wife would respect me and i wouldn't have to write stupid little blogs about the situation anymore.

the thing i find myself thinking about most when i'm afraid is what do i say? if any of you know me, i'm not the most talkative of guys and have never had a case of diaherra of the mouth, however i do have a blog...we'll see how it goes. i'm so afraid of looking like an idiot, and being proven wrong that i completely forget about Christ.

Jesus tells us "Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!" Luke 12.24

I find this verse almost sickening in times like these. i am more valuable than a bird, more valuable than anything on this earth and yet why do i think i'm nothing? i'm only something because God feeds me, yet when i start to get hungry again i forget where my last meal came from.

how easy it is to ask for prayer, advice or just talk to someone else about the third party than it is to just do the thing you're asking for prayer about. don't get me wrong community and prayer are both wonderful things and very necessary for a saint to perservere, but couldn't we save a lot of people a lot of time and energy if we'd just man up and trust Christ and the access to strength we have through him? the war is over.

i pray that anyone reading this would find strength and courage in Christ and nothing else to face the ashers from above in the future. the following is a quote from John Piper

"But Jesus does not call us to make safe choices. He calls us to make loving choices. In the short run, love is often more painful than self-protecting conflict-avoidance. But in the long run, our consciences condemn us for this easy path and we do little good for others. So let’s be more like Jesus in this case and not talk about people, but talk to them, both with words of encouragement, because of the evidences of grace we see in their lives, and with words of caution or warning or correction or even rebuke.

welcome

2006-08-12T22:46:00.000-07:00

hey guys, thanks for checking out my blog.