The Opposite of Faith

As I sat perfectly dull and unuseful on the lifeguard's dock this past Memorial Day (don't worry, I wasn't lifeguarding), the John Andrewses with Eliza in tow pulled up alongside the dock and waited for my husband to deboat them. While waiting the elder John asked me, "What would you say the opposite of faith is?" Because I think I'm just so darn witty and I know what non does to a word, I replied, "Nonfaith." I knew better, but I couldn't help myself. "Nope," John confirmed. The only other words I could think of were disbelief, apathy, and hate, so knowing I wasn't going to come up with the answer he was looking for, I said, "Well, there are a lot of dumb words I'm thinking of..." (perhaps it's not fair to call the words dumb), trailing off so that the answer could instead be given to me. (Admitting a lack of smartness seems a better option than proving it.) As hoped, John gave me the answer: certitude. How can you have faith if you know?

(He gave a few examples of people who knew and yet claimed to have faith--our Tinky-Winky loving friend was one.) So certitude it is. A professor had told John this once, and I'm glad he in turn told it to me. The whole point of faith is not knowing; belief is strong but certitude is final. John went on to talk about 1 Corinthians 13:13: "And now these three remain: Faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love." He explained that when humans reach of point of heaven faith and hope will have been fulfilled, but love will still remain, thus making it the greatest. Love can coexist even with certitude.

I'm glad my lazy sunblocked self was finishing a book while the Andrewses decided to go boating. So I'm sharing, and hoping that by sharing I don't forget to share these tidbits in the future.

Do you need me to make you a mix tape?

Tonight is the season finale of LOST. I'm very excited for this forthcoming two hours of my life. It is sure to be a life-changing event.

That is all.

By the way, NBC

I was a happy girl this past Saturday to be able to watch game five of the NHL Eastern Conference playoffs. In an effort to save money to pay for our B-Mets season tickets, we have only thirteen cable channels (plus National Geographic channel that comes in on channel 75), which means we do not get Versus, the network on which most of the hockey playoff games have been shown. It was not an easy prioritization process, but dollar hot dogs, kiss cam, and the spiedie race won out over cable. And we have friends with cable. But back to my story.

I listened to the first four games of round 3 on Internet radio, which is a very nice option to have, but it's just not the same as seeing the boys' bearded faces on the TV screen. On Saturday afternoon, thanks to NBC, I got to watch the game. Schubie, Patrick, Antoine--whose faces I once oft encountered at Wegman's and Uncle Tony's--appeared before me once again in all their Senatorial glory. (Even Daniel Alfredsson was a participant in a conversation between Stacy, Matt, me, Antoine, and Martin Havlat, on the sidewalk by the Holiday Inn-Arena, about wearing skirts. FYI: Martin is pro-skirt. Such occurrences are why I love having minor league sports teams in my town. But I digress. Again.)

Bad reffing aside, the game was a nail-biter. The score at the end of the game was 2-2, so once again Ottawa and Buffalo were heading into overtime. I would be attending a minor-league (of course) baseball game in Syracuse on Saturday night, so this break between regulation and OT was the perfect time to drive to our friends' apartment where we were meeting before the baseball game. Right before we turned our TV off we heard NBC tell us that they would be leaving the playoff game to cover hours of prerace Preakness. NBC would maintain coverage in Buffalo, but everyone else was SOL. At this point the series was 3-1 Ottawa: if Ottawa won the game in this seven-game series, they'd be going to the Stanley Cup finals; if Buffalo lost, they were eliminated. So the game was kind of a big deal. But apparently not as big a deal as talking about a horse race.

The Preakness is a big event; I am not belittling it, but I don't think it would have killed NBC to be a little late in getting to the prerace coverage. And I think it's safe to assume most regular folks would prefer playoff hockey (although this is not based on any published research, so don't quote me). And not all hockey fans have cable and/or Internet, so what were they to do? I couldn't find the game coverage on local radio stations, since the Mets were playing/beating the Yankees on more than one station. So, finally, my point: NBC, you are very lucky my friends had Versus at their apartment on which I could watch Ottawa WIN in overtime, and you are lucky that I had independent plans on going over there, or you would have received a dreaded strongly worded letter. I'm sorry if this makes you lose sleep at night, but it had to be said.

However, if you would like to write a strongly worded letter to NBC, here's some addresses:

nbcsports@nbcuni.com

NBC Universal
100 Universal City Plaza
Universal City, CA 91608

Ain't no party like a Scranton party

Scranton, PA, Binghamton's brother from another mother (or perhaps the same mother, just another daddy), is hosting The Office Convention this October. Apparently, tourism to the Electric City has increased since Dunder-Mifflin had its television debut, and the time has come for all (of us) Office crazies to save our Shrute bucks and convention (don't forget the black light)! Check out the Web site here: http://www.theofficeconvention.com/about/

Will I be making the hour trek to Scranton for something other than the Wyoming Annual Conference this year? It's wonderfully tempting. Maybe we can road trip and moon one another. I have cruise control.

Gooder writing tip #8

I haven't posted on of these in awhile, and I know your life has suffered for it.

So today's topic is less versus fewer.

Perhaps the most predominant misuse of the word less occurs in grocery stores, in the popular express lanes allowing your use of the lane as long as the items you have do not exceed a certain number. If you're like me, and I know you are, it takes all your strength to put your Bagel Bites and coffee on the checkout counter under the sign that reads "7 items or less" without telling someone, anyone, that "less" should be "fewer."

Despite that pointing this out to my line mates and cashier would make me many instant friends and love interests (you know you would want to make out with me immediately), I have never done so. But it doesn't mean I won't celebrate when I see a correct sign, such as the signs used by Whole Foods, this particlar sign hanging in Whole Foods on Bowery in NYC:




Cheers to you Whole Foods.
(Update: Wegman's uses "fewer" too. I did not mean to neglect my local grocery store.)
Now explanation.

Both less and fewer mean the opposite of more, so it's easy to confuse them, but they are used in different instances: less for "not as much," and fewer for "not as many." Less is used with mass nouns, and fewer is used with count nouns.

What is a mass noun? A plural entity that cannot be counted.
What is a count noun? A plural entity that can be counted.

So, if you can count it (glasses, blankets, crackers, cheese cubes) use fewer.
If you cannot count it (water, love, sun, wine), use less.

The second beach we went to had less sand and fewer lifeguards.
The small cart had less space than the large cart, so I put in fewer items.

Exceptions (because you know they exist): less is used with money, distance, and time.

Jack Lynch, an associate professor of English at Rutgers University has an online style guide, and discusses this topic here.
And of course I recommend Grammar Girl's explanation.

And you're welcome.

Milbloggers

A story on Morning Edition (shocking that I'm listening to NPR, I know) this morning discusses the Pentagon ban on soldiers' use of Internet sites such as YouTube and Myspace, and this ban likely blocking soldiers' access to blogs, such as the blog hosted by former paratrooper Mathew Burden called BlackFive.net.

Mathew and I probably have different political viewpoints, but we both want the same thing: for the soldiers to stay alive and the truth to be available. I'd also like Iraqis etc. to stay alive. His Web site is worth reading. It's direct entries from soldiers, and as far as I can tell (I briefly browsed) it isn't being used for any sort of propaganda. It understandably includes a lot of military talk/terms, but it's a great alternative to the news for soldiers and for citizens who just want to know, on some level, what's actually going on.

BlackFive.net is also naturally upset about the Internet ban. The soldiers are asked to spend years now away from their families, and now they are blocked from telling wives and husbands that they aren't shot in the head, and blocked from seeing a child sing them a song, all because the Pentagon wants to make sure their version of the "truth" is the only version. I know the argument is that the Pentagon is worried operational secrets will get out, but I think it's BS--the soldiers who believe in what they are doing, and even the soldiers who are questioning, aren't going post confidential information on their Myspace page. Seriously.

It makes you wonder why the Pentagon is so worried all of a sudden.
I mean, I have no idea why soldiers would be upset.

The NPR article is here, and it includes links to Mathew's and other milblogs.

Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say: it is well, it is well with my soul.

My outstanding mission weekend with the youth in New York City is done. When I got home last night I was physically, and emotionally, spent. I’m 27 years old and have done this type of volunteering before, but it doesn’t matter; every time I’m still surprised about how much of who I am is revealed to me when I think I’m out to learn about others.

Last night I was raw and heartbroken—not emo heartbreak, true heartbreak. It’s not a bad heartbreak. It’s sucks feeling this way, but it also doesn’t. It also feels Good and real to know how lucky I am to have met the people I did. I feel wonderfully little and challenged.

And K, J, S, L, N: I am so proud of you.

If Katie Holmes and Julia Louis-Dreyfus had a baby...

Since organizing a disorganized contributors list for a tourism and hospitality book couldn't keep my undying attention this morning, I played around on the My Heritage Web site to see what celebrities they say I look like. If you look on the right margin of this blog (scroll down), you'll see the results. Since the first results did not have any boys, I tried a second photo, and it's awesome. The second set of results is the best :-)

Update: I took these off because I got tired of them. Some of the people I looked like were Katie Holmes and Julia Louis-Dreyfus, obviously, but the best were Kathy Bates, Roseanne Barr, Shelley Winters, a male German soccer player, and a male lead singer of a Finnish rock band. My self-esteem remains in tact.

You just have to look for it sometimes.

This postcard is my Post Secret selection for the week. It wasn't until I posted it here that I realized "good" was "good"; I'd been reading it this week as "God." And I'm a copy editor. I'd say that maybe I was looking for something that wasn't there, but God is there, just with an extra o.

I'm glad the sender believes this, and that he or she made it this far along in life to come to this realization.


Now digression.

I'm not Pollyanna, or even her cousin, but I'm neither a complete realist by definition (realism: concern for fact or reality and rejection of the impractical or visionary, or a practice in literature or art of accurately representating nature or real life without idealization) due to my tendency to strive for--and to believe we can achieve--something better than what is.

I suppose too that realism depends on your definiton of real. What may seem an idealistic interpretation to you may seem very real to me (or, more likely, vice versa). Without waxing too philosophical, for I am far too untrained in the matter, isn't acknowledging that Good exists an accurate representation of nature and life? Isn't recognizing the fact of good an accurate representation of what is? Isn't accepting goodness real? Some "realists" acknowledge only the bad, the ugly, the dark as "real," but not all instances of goodness are contrived. That the world is entirely ugly may be more idealistic, in the anti-Pollyanna sense, than realistic.

For example (in case you need one), I paint a bowl of fruit. In my painting, the oranges are bland and lifeless but the grapes and cherries are gorgeous. You look at that bowl of fruit and believe that I have inaccurately represented the oranges, which appear bright and juicy to you, and that I've idealized the grapes and cherries. I look at the bowl of fruit again and see exactly what I painted. Who is the realist? Who is the idealist?

Another example, I make a documentary of a homosexual teen's experiences at school and church. The movie consists solely of the preacher preaching against homosexuality, a therapist counseling the teen "back" to heterosexuality, bullies harassing the teen, whispers and looks given to the teen, and the teen confessing to thoughts of suicide. I have made a realist film by documenting the teen's reality accurately. You leave the theater feeling hopeless; viewers would call this very real. But why did I make you feel this way? Just cuz? Does anyone really do anything just cuz? Wouldn't my filming of the youth group who accepts the teen, of the teacher who mentors the teen, of the preacher who preaches love also be just as real? I'm not questioning the definition of realism, just our pereception of realism.

I apologize to anyone with a background in philosophical theory who may be reading this (leave comments?). It's pretty apparent that I perhaps subscribe more to idealism (or, more accurately, lean toward idealism on the spectrum, the middle of which most of us lie). Idealism: a theory that the essential nature of reality lies in consciousness or reason, that only the perceptible is real. Or it is an artistic or literary expression placing more value on imagination than in directly copying nature. I see idealism as, in a way, dealing with the possible, not necessarily the probable (to paraphrase Nathaniel Hawthorne).

Without at least a small amount of idealism, what's the point of anything? My realist take on it: idealism is a part of an accurate interpretation of what is.

I love blogs.

Save face.

Okay, now it’s just getting embarrassing.

It’s no secret that the current president and administration are not my favorite. I’m so tired of getting so angry at the self-centered, self-righteous, arrogant, nepotistic, abusive, and disrespectful policies. The president or a member of his administration speaks and I feel my face contort and hear my mother saying, “You keep making that face it’s going to stay that way.” Please, please let me make it until January 2009 without my face staying that way.

It’s pretty safe to say that George W. Bush will go down in history as one of the worst presidents the country has ever had. The Harris Poll, as reported in Wall Street Journal on April 26, has the president’s current approval rating at 28 percent. The poll reporting the highest approval rate, a Rasmussen Report, has Bush’s approval rating at 39 percent (44 percent were polled as strongly disapproving, 15 percent somewhat disapproving, 20 percent somewhat approving, and 19 percent strongly approving). Even the GOP admits that Bush’s “approval rating has stayed below 40 percent for the seventh consecutive month.” My favorite quote from this article: “White House spokeswoman Dana Perino told the newspaper that the president pays little attention to polls.” Phew! Why would we want a president to who listens to what the American people want?

The disgrace that is the U.S. government causes furrowed brows across seas as well. This article by Walter Ellis in the Belfast Telegraph titled “629 Days to Bush to Go” (from May 2) is testament to the international frustration at how Bush Administration incompetence affects not just the United States but the world.

The hurricane Katrina disaster that was not Katrina’s fault, his poor domestic policy, his more than poor foreign policy, the Republican scandals tied to his administration, the illegal firings of federal judges and the administration’s “losing” of all incriminating e-mails, the wire tapping, the disrespect and disregard he shows to not just other countries but to his own country, the lies, the manipulation, the war crimes, the failure to find Osama bin Laden, and the Iraq war are a few examples of Bush’s greatest hits. All presidents have their flaws. All administrations make mistakes. But knock it off already!

I’ve never been president (news flash), nor do I want to be, so I do not deny what an incredibly difficult job it must be. Of course nobody would get a 100 percent approval rating in the United States today, not even (or especially?) Jesus. Of course anyone in the position would make mistakes. This is human, normal, and expected. But so is admitting those mistakes and trying to fix them. Perhaps Bush and Buddies do not think any mistakes were made; they cling stubbornly and arrogantly to their failing policies, and, after all, pay “little attention to polls.” As Mr. Ellis in the Belfast Telegraph put it, “Few any longer believe a word the [p]resident says. It is assumed that he is living in a world of his own. At the same time, Bush has stopped listening to anybody except the voices in his head.” The last sentence just may be facetious, but doesn’t it make you wonder?

It’s very hard to admit to making mistakes, and it’s even harder to fix them after you’ve admitted they’ve been made. I understand why Bush doesn’t want to admit he was wrong, and wants to give the ideas he promoted for years more time to work. I’m stubborn and proud too. But I like to think that I’m at least a little compassionate, and maybe even little logical—two characteristics glaringly lacking in the Bush presidency. If Bush were a baseball player and his presidency were his at bat, I’d surrender with a sigh and wait for the strikeout. It’s hope I lack now. I wish I could be more like my youth group, who would cheer “We believe in you!” as they do when any of our players, the good and especially the not-so-good, go up to bat. They mean it when they say it, and sometimes the batter with the lowest batting average will hit a home run.

Maybe it’s our fault. We did let him get away with way too much for way too long. Now that we’re finally getting upset, he doesn’t know what to do but to do what he’s been doing all along (that has worked all along/reelection). But please, for the sake of my country and of my generation dying in Iraq, try something else. My face is going to stay this way.

Hey Mary Clare lets write about stuff and pass it to each other

In the same vein as Post Secret, I have also recently discovered Found. It’s, appropriately, a magazine and Web site that shares with the world things that have been found. By the vague word “things” I mean “love letters, birthday cards, kids’ homework, to-do lists, ticket stubs, poetry on napkins, doodles—anything that gives a glimpse into someone else’s life.” The first issue was published in 2001, so I’m admittedly very late in the game here, but I’m sharing it with you anyway. You will likely enjoy it if you do not already know of it and enjoy it.

It reminds me of when my cousin and I were young and used to fill out offering envelopes in church with fake names and addresses we thought were hilarious. I wonder what happened to them.

Penny for your thoughts

Deleting yet another overused semicolon in a short story about a teenage boy’s Internet adventures, the editor pauses. I have not yet checked Post Secret, she realizes. She wonders how a week could reach Wednesday before this realization occurred. Admonishing herself for the oversight, she quickly forgave herself and tended to the unremembered task.

As always, it was time well spent.

My favorite this week: