Along Came Adam

Many of you who are good friends of mine and have networked with me through Myspace will vividly recall the day when a random stranger known as "The Empyreal Wordsmith" suddenly appeared on my top 8 list. Out of the woodwork you came, assaulting me with questions like "Who the heck is that guy?" and "How did he beat me out of the top 4??!" While I can assure you that any and all status bumps within my top 8 are never anything personal but made simply for the sake of shaking things up a bit, I will now finally explain the mystery that is The Empyreal Wordsmith.

One fateful morning at the end of January, I signed onto Myspace to find a message waiting for me. I very rarely get comments, let alone messages on Myspace, so I imagine I probably sat there happily admiring the bold red text announcing that I had a message for a while before actually clicking on it. When I eventually did, however, I was surprised to find out that the message was from a complete stranger. I was not receiving a lot of spam at this point but I would have assumed that's what it was if not for the title above his goofy photo: "The Empyreal Wordsmith." It sounded halfway intelligent and, being somewhat of a wordsmith myself, I decided to quell my curiosity and just see what it was he had to say.

His name was Adam Bogert and he was from New York. He'd been Googling the lyrics to one of Anberlin's latest singles entitled "Dismantle.Repair" and because I had these lyrics posted on my Myspace page, he'd read them there instead of on a lyrics search engine to avoid potential viruses and whatnot. In checking out my page, he realized that we seemed to have a few [essential] things in common. Why he decided to message me and say hello when he already got what he was looking for I'm not quite sure. Perhaps his friends were all being jerks that day and he thought it was time to make a new one.

In any case, I'm glad Adam initiated contact that day because he turned out to be a really awesome, interesting person and if we'd met under any number of other circumstances, I absolutely would have befriended him:

1. First and foremost, we're both passionate, revivalistic pursuers of God. We both agree that the American church in general needs to experience some major changes and get back to the basics of Christianity.

2. We share a very similar taste in music and at the time of our initial introduction happened to both be enthralled with Anberlin and caught up in the release of their latest and greatest album, Cities. This led to us updating each other consistently about the band's quirky video blogs, the shipping status of our pre-ordered albums, and whether or not we would make it to one of their shows. Sadly - devastatingly - neither of us did...but we did, however, make it to Relient K shows within three days of each other.

3. In a word: sarcasm. It’s hard enough these days finding someone who can appreciate this unpopular sense of humor, but to find someone who actually possesses it, too, is rare indeed. Therefore, they should be kept as long as possible and only let go if absolutely necessary.

4. Last but certainly not least, the wordsmithery. Adam is one of the greatest writers I’ve ever met, and he is constantly cracking me up as he often tends to put a comedic spin on his everyday life stories. His work inspires me in my own work, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that when you find someone inspirational to you, you should keep them close – more so, even, than those who share your sense of humor. Currently, Adam and I are both involved in a collective writing effort temporarily known as “Something Before,” a dark saga that dares to take an introspective, fantastical look into the future of the modern world. We are also faithful readers of each other’s blogs and try to plug them whenever possible so that others will check out our amusing musings and give us feedback.

Speaking of which.

Please continue reading and responding to my blogs at:
audreysrevolution.blogspot.com
More importantly, start reading and responding to Adam’s blogs at:
theempyrealwordsmith.blogspot.com
(Because one day soon he will publish an ingenious book and become the next million dollar man, and you’ll want to be able to honestly brag to everyone that you’re already good friends with him and a faithful subscriber of his blogs [and at that point you will loyally plug it and support the mystery that is…*dun dun dunnnnn…* The Empyreal Wordsmith.])

Hopefully this explanation was revealing and sufficient enough for the lot of you. Be sure to check back for more updates on the Adventures of Adam and Audrey!

Oooh, I hear a book being born...

beauty marks and battle scars

I went to Onset Bay today - a far cry from the crystal clear azure waters and shell-laden white sands of the Carribbean, but I'm happy to have my seagulls back. These poor nostalgic birds are so very undermined.

So I'm walking along the beach in my bare feet, awed and grateful for such perfect weather in which warmth has been kindly provided without the blinding aspect of the sun. Surprisingly, the area is very nearly deserted. I'm staring at the ground, hovering in that absentminded place between being lost in thought and not thinking at all. While the latter is certainly more relaxing, the former tends to be more productive (at least for selfish reasons) and leads to things like contemplative blogs laced with philosophic concepts.

I realized that I love being barefoot. And I love being barefoot because I can feel everything that I walk on. And I love feeling everything that I walk on because the earth (meaning the ground, not the globe) is the very essence of life. It is the foundation of God's creation and everything else in creation revolves around it. Certain soils allow for certain types of plants and vegatation to grow. Certain trees provide certain types of fruit or shade or leaves. Certain rock formations allow certain types of animals to hibernate or build their homes. Certain bodies of water allow for certain types of transportation, nutrients, recreation or simply add to nature's vast and incredible beauty.

Then there's us. Humans. We build our lives around this earth (or at least we should, although much to my growing concern society has been forcing the earth to build itself around us). We cannot build homes where the ground is unstable. We cannot plant polluting machines or businesses anywhere near precious bodies of water. This earth takes a selfless beating every time we drive our vehicles over it or crack our weapons into it or leave trails on it with our little feet.

I love being barefoot because it brings me that much closer to nature, this amazing mass that God created to endure all kinds of physical abuse for the sake of our survival and enjoyment. Every scratch from a wayward branch or piece of seaglass, every bruise from an unseen stone or fall from a tree, every drop of blood from the thorn of a plant makes me smile. Yes, there may be pain at first, but in the end there is always a smile. These physical blemishes are proof of God's creation and proof of our existence. Sometimes they turn to scars, and while many will frown at them in disdain or attempt to medically remove them, I will wear them proudly because all these scars mean is that I have lived. They do not make me ugly at all, and I think to despise or cover them up is horribly vain. These are the true beauty marks of our flesh - not genetically positioned moles on our faces or bone structure or hair color.

While I treaded the sand at the beach today, knowing that the rough grains and jagged shells would cause me to break out the body lotion for the soles of my feet later on, I was reminded of a time when my brothers and I were too young to even be aware of the tarnishing effects nature could have on one's body. We would head to the woods in search of adventure, climbing trees and falling out of them, building forts and bruising a few fingers, pushing prickly vines out of our way, grabbing snakes, worms, toads, salamanders, berries, endangered flowers and anything else that was irresistible to a kid in a moment of reckless abandon. We were pirates, native Americans and the newest members of the Swiss Family Robinson. Finally, when dusk had crept up on us like bedtime so inopportune, we were called in for dinner and forced to retreat from what in our minds had been one of the greatest days of our lives.

You see, when we were kids, we always lived life to its fullest. We would stumble and bumble our way into the house with mud caked on our clothes and tree sap stuck between our fingers and blood running down our legs, and we never would have known it was there if our mothers hadn't shrieked and ushered us quickly into the bathroom to wash up. And when it was finally time to snuggle up under our cartoon-covered sheets and dream about forcing our younger siblings to walk the plank, did we lament the fact that our legs, while thoroughly scrubbed clean and smelling like baby powder, were now covered in unsightly cuts and bruises? Of course not. They were battle scars, and if we even noticed them, we'd be bragging about how we got them in school the next day as we indulged in a coveted package of Dunkaroos.

Bottom line is, I'm quite happy to live my life not worrying about what every step - literally - will do to my outward appearance. I want to take notes from myself as a little girl and continue living life to the fullest, enjoying every experience offered to me and not being too vain to be adventurous. I believe there is such a thing as being too careful. I want to laugh and appreciate the wrinkles that form because of it. I want to climb trees and be proud of the wounds that will later prove I accomplished my goal of climbing higher. And if I'm a little more rounded than sculpted because I spent more days lying by the magnificent ocean instead of pounding treadmills at the gym, then so be it.

No regrets.

telephonophobia: help is just a phone call away

I am afraid of telephones.

Known scientifically as telephonophobia, this fear is defined as "a persistent, abnormal, and unwarranted fear of telephones." For me personally, however, the adjectives illogical and irrational come to mind.

I haven't the slightest idea where this fear comes from; my fear of spiders, clowns and balloons can all be explained fairly simply, but not this one. All I know is that it has manifested itself in my life like a stubborn disease and I cannot get rid of it. In fact, it only gets worse as time goes on.

This is how it works: Every time a telephone rings (especially in my home or workplace, but anywhere really, and this includes cellphones), I panic. It starts on the inside - my heart beats rapidly, my stomach churns - and then becomes external as my muscles tighten and freeze, my face goes ashen and sometimes my eyes water. How's that for extreme?

For years I've tried to keep this fear under wraps. But this becomes increasingly difficult when you are in situations where it's necessary for you to answer a call and you just can't do it, and everyone around you becomes irritated. They haven't figured out yet that this is a legitimate fear and instead believe you're just being a baby or perhaps lazy and irresponsible. And how should one argue that? "Seriously, I'm not like that. I'm a completely normal, diligent, friendly person. I'm just so afraid of telephones that if you make me answer that call I just might throw up all over you"? Yeah. That would go over real well. And if by chance you have actually dared to give a similar explanation to someone, then it's quite likely you've been scoffed at and told to "get over it."

As previously insinuated, most people who don't have a fear of telephones can't understand it and aren't as easily inclined to accept it as a genuine fear as, say, drowning. This only serves to make those who do have the fear more uncomfortable and ashamed about it. And if you are one of those doubtful bystanders thinking, "There's just no way it can be that serious," allow me to destroy that thought. My personal aversion to telephones has become so serious that I often neglect to answer a call even from my closest friends (ask them, and I'm sure they would love to tell you how much I suck at returning calls). And if any of my good friends are reading this, please know that my failure to answer or return your call is not in the least bit personal, but I do realize how rude it has become and I feel terrible about that and while I'm not actively working on getting better at it, I'm working my way up to that step.

(On that note, if I've ever called you, and it wasn't because I had to...feel special.)

I need help. I just don't want it. Knowing how ridiculous my fear was getting, however, I did Google telephonophobia one night, curious as to how people have overcome it. Well, I didn't find too many success stories, but I did find a bunch of websites claiming the means to help me. What I discovered, however, was that nearly all of these websites were a close replica of the very first one that popped up: changethatsrightnow.com. I have never in my life read anything so totally shady:

1. "We won't actually do anything - you will." Um...okay? Why on God's green earth would I pay someone to not help me? If I could help myself I wouldn't be looking for it from a second party.
2. By the way, how much does this non-service cost? "Typically it runs from $2497 and up." ...Are you NUTS?? That's probably the amount of money I'm saving from NOT making or answering phone calls every year. I'll keep the change, thanks.
3. Well, I suppose if this is a month-long treatment clinic... Nono. I, too, was once so naive: "The process usually requires no more than ten hours. In exceptional cases we can achieve a favorable result in two to three." Two to three hours. Let me put that into perspective for those of you who, like me (I used a calculator) are mathematically handicapped. That's almost $21/minute. Go ahead and laugh at them. I did.
4. So how did they plan on fixing me anyway? "We don't use hypnosis for telephonophobia but our modern techniques are equally relaxing and enjoyable." Okaaay, so what are the modern techniques? I'm so glad you asked. The answer is a big mystery. That's right, they don't actually say what the techniques are, which absolutely begs me to wonder if drugs, sedatives and brainwashing are involved. My bet is yes.
5. Alright, so...let's say my fear of telephones is so horrible, and it's affecting my daily life in such a negative way, and I'm having chronic nightmares about being locked in a small dark space filled with telephones that are ringing nonstop, and I'm so desperate to banish my fear of them that I'm actually willing to cough up enough money to cover three all-inclusive trips to Disney World so that I can get help. What do I do? "To learn more about our 24-Hour Telephonophobia Program, please call us at..."

And there you have it, the most ironic of all punchlines. In order to receive help from these people and get over your fear of telephones...you have to call them.

Screw it. My stubbornness has overridden my will to seek help. Wow, you are a baby. Listen. Call it whatever you want, but this is the bottom line: I'm. afraid. of. telephones. If your idea of helping me is forcing me to use one to call you, I say, take a hike. Go talk to the isolophobes.

Basically, I didn't write this blog as an S.O.S., but because I'm wondering how many other people out there suffer from telephonophobia. All my life I've felt alone in this fear and did my best to try and hide it. Finally, about a year ago, I found out that a woman I go to church with has the same fear. That knowledge was so lovely that I could have thrown a party (without the balloons, of course). Since then, however, I remain curious as to how widespread this fear actually is. So if you've landed on this blog somehow and can relate to anything I've written, please feel free to leave me a comment. And who knows? Perhaps we'll become great friends.

Just don't expect me to call you anytime soon. =)

stumbling blogs

You can't figure out how it happens.

You're surfing the web, minding your own business, when suddenly -- BAM! -- you've landed on a blog. A random person's blog. A blog that, in most cases, has nothing at all to do with the subject matter you were studying or searching for.

Sound familiar?

This little mishap is becoming a common occurrence for me, and I just can't figure out how it's happening. In fact, just today I was Googling images of graves when, upon clicking one of them, I was directed to a blog entitled, "My God Can Beat Up Your God." What, pray tell, does such a theme have to do with tombstones? (And, uh...where's my image?)

As previously stated, this is happening to me all the time - so often that I have now come up with a neologism for these accidental journal encounters: Stumbling blogs. The reason for this epithetical bestowment is because they inevitably lead to further investigation, which inevitably leads to three things:

1. I actually read the blog (with an enticing title such as "My God Can Beat Up Your God," I simply can't resist the temptation to go, "Oh yeah? We'll see about that..." and begin reading). Then, depending on the subject matter, I'm either going to be so passionate or so furious at its content that I just have to leave a comment.
2. I notice that this particular blogger receives on average 12.3 comments per blog. I recieve about 2. This is not right. I am mad.
3. I've just wasted my time reading a complete stranger's blog and, doing a fine job of adding insult to injury, boosted their comment average. I am now twice as mad.

Now, don't get me wrong. Not all of these encounters end with the unleashing of my inner rage. Sometimes, with a precarious click of fate, they turn into a pleasant surprise. This case is rare - for me, it has only happened twice, but I do remain hopeful - and usually when you are using a search engine for exact wording on a topic. Take my two examples, for instance:

Example #1: I am shocked and appalled and slightly miffed at the fact that Nabisco has changed the Oreo slogan, and I decide to write a blog about this mystery. I am utterly confused and upset that Oreo is not "America's Favorite Cookie" anymore, just "Milk's Favorite Cookie." I am proactive. I do my research. I Google the question, "Why has the Oreo slogan changed?". I land on a blog titled, "The Plight of The Oreo," in which some girl in California dares to delve into the very same issue that was consuming my brain cells. Finally! Someone else who noticed the switch and was just as curious about the logic behind it as I was. Partly satisfied, I quoted her in my blog. No animosity there. It was worth my time.

Example #2: I am in the process of writing another blog. I want to quote an article I found in Relevant Magazine; however, this article is nowhere to be found on the internet. I figured Relevant would have some kind of article archive on their website. This is not true. Suddenly my want to quote the article has become a need, and I become frantic in my search. I Googled, "'Faith No More' by Jesse Carey" and landed on a blog beginning with this sentence: "Ok... I searched all over the internet for this article entitled "Faith No More" by Jesse Carey from the January issue of Relevant Magazine, but alas, it is no where to be found." And this girl actually proceeded to type a large portion of the article by hand, and while none of it included the section I was looking for, I was intrigued by the fact that she was quoting the same article. If you'll kindly refer to my first reason for inventing the phrase stumbling blog, you'll understand why I went ahead and read the entire blog and left a way-too-long-for-a-stranger comment (a passionate one, not a furious one, in case you were wondering). A day later, we're Myspace friends. Good read, new friend, happy ending - well worth my time.

However. Despite the few gems I happen to have discovered, unless they start popping up more frequently than the ones that are simply feeding my internet addiction, they will humbly remain Stumbling Blogs. And with that I would like to warn all of ye filthy scoundrels who dare to continue producing the latter type of blog:

"Be careful, however, that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling blog to the weak." - 1 Corinthians 8:9