Ivy Is Here - (2015 Remixed & Remastered)

IIvy Mikayla was born August 7, 2010, at 7:10 AM. Heather and I had accomplished everything within our power to ready her new little world within a small parcel of just over 1,000 square feet. She can call 8x10 worth of that thousand square feet hers. We were ready, per material standards. We did not, however, have any kind of bearing on what type of emotional impact her birth would deliver. It hit me at about 7:09 AM and 43 seconds.

Ivy appeared at 7:10 AM. The only way to describe my emotional state is by comparing it to a washing machine on "Heavy Duty" cycle. This specific wash had everything packed inside. Colors, whites, delicates, and knits. When she appeared, numerous emotions hit me all at once. I felt weak from instant unconditional love. I wanted to be strong and yet I wanted to burst into tears at the same time. The only thing that was set in stone, unchanging, was my ear-to-ear smile. That wasn't going anywhere.  

 

When I think back, I tend to chuckle a bit. I had to give the medical team a little bit of room right after she was born so that they could do their job. I remember standing about four feet behind them in a haze that I can’t really describe. And I still held that smile. I can liken that moment to standing in a piece of PVC pipe, bottled up with the emotions I described earlier. I must have looked drunk. I guess I was, depending on how you look at it.

All of my friends, who are parents, have told me that time does nothing but shoot by you at an immeasurable pace. I naively figured that I’d have a minute to sit back and realize all that has happened and to study the little miracle that Heather and I were able to produce. They were all right. We have been hit by a barrage of diapers, feeding schedules, wake time, nap time, skin to skin time, Google searches as to "why she does this," and a mommy/daddy sleep schedule that mommy and daddy aren’t used to. Ivy is already eight days old. It feels like she just arrived yesterday.

Mikayla means "Gift From God" which, if you know our story, is quite appropriate. After some of the dust had settled, I was able to study my little girl as she laid in her mobile wooden cradle. I have heard numerous people ask for proof of God’s existence. As I looked at Ivy, I could only wonder how they can’t see the miracles that we are surrounded by at every rounded corner. Specifically, within a new little blessing such as this!

Ivy is not chance. She is not an accident. She didn’t evolve out of matter. God’s hand shaped her into the intricacy that envelops every breathing human body. And everything else for that matter. As I looked at her, I noticed that everything she is comprised of has a purpose. From the way that she looks (physically), to the numerous faces that she has learned how to make.

Parents are right. It is incredible how having a child will coerce life’s purpose into a 180 degree turn.

Thank You, Lord, for this opportunity. We pray that you protect Ivy as she continues to grow, and we pray that you continue to mold Heather and I into the parents that we should be.  

Being A Parent and Such...

Heather just passed the thirty-week mark today, June 2, 2010. The fact that I haven’t even started to convert the office into a nursery yet might describe how surreal this feels to me. I remember the first ultrasound when Ivy looked like a little pinto bean with branches. The next ultrasound produced images that revealed the beginnings of skeletal structure, frog legs, and a big belly. And then we found out that she was a girl. No weiner to be found.

These days, there is a hyper little body of life kicking around inside Heather’s belly. I put my hand on her skin to feel movement. I imagine that Ivy is like me as she tries to find the most comfortable position to sleep within her little cocoon. If it were me in there, I’d stick my face up against mom’s belly to freak out whoever might be looking at me from the outside. But that’s just my humor. Ivy is due August 11^th. I needed nine months to prepare myself for the change that is coming. This is what I have constructed within the limitations of my brain. All of these actions are subject to change based on the natural direction of said child.

What type of music am I going to play for her when she arrives? If I sit her in front of AC/DC’s “Let There Be Rock” record will she turn into a biker chick? What if I play her Miles Davis’ “Kind of Blue” record? Will she turn into Lisa Simpson? So what is the balance? What is a good medium? After much consideration, I have determined that she will be subjected to the following records: Journey “Escape,” Jimmy Eat World’s “Clarity,” Sigur Ros’ “Ágætis byrjun,” both of Matthew Pryor’s Terrible Twos records, Evan Robinson’s work with War Stories and definitely Gary Shiebler’s work. Maybe even Snoopy and the Red Barron if I can find it on 7 inch. I figure that’s a good start and a good mix.

Heather and I pray everyday about life after the baby. I would love nothing more then for Heather to be a stay at home mom. No, that doesn’t mean, “man go to work, woman stay home to clean, cook, raise child, and be man slave.” It means that I would be comforted by the fact that we are rearing our own child. We want to be the example to our child. I always fear that she will be confused about who is who. And “why do I get into trouble when I do this with them but not when I do this with them?” Or “why do they let me watch TV all day but mom and dad won’t?” God will steer us in the right direction. We know everything will be ok. It’s just one of the things I think about.

Our child will know what a book is. She will know how to read it. Whether she likes to read as she grows older is her choice, but at least she will have read a novel. Our child will not own a portable game player, nor will a game player exist in the house. She will know what it is like to run around outside at the playground. She will know what it is like to skin her knees, to get dirty, and to hit a boy in the face if she likes him. And if a little boy tries to kiss her she will kick him in the balls and get into trouble just like we did in the old days. She will not sit in front of the television set all day, but she will be taken to the theatre on special occasions. How can one deprive a child of such an amazing experience? I still remember my mom and dad walking me down the aisle of the theatre as the opening credits for “Empire Strikes Back” rolled across the screen. It was larger then life to me. It was 1980 and I was only two years old. I still remember.

Ultimately, Ivy will pick her final resting place in every relevant category. I will support her in any natural direction she chooses to pursue with the exception of crime. You might think I am contradicting myself if you parallel the above statement and all the rules I have set which can be seen above. This isn’t true however. The fact that I am playing good music for her simply means that I want to introduce her to good music. If she ever fell in love with the sounds of Justin Bieber, Clay Aiken, DC Talk, Audio Adrenalin, or Beyonce, I don’t know how I’d be able to carry on in this world. It’s not even an attempt to get her to pick up an instrument. I just want her to be able to decipher garbage from art.

I’ve only skimmed the surface of a few of the things that run through my mind. But I guess that’s what parenting is all about. It’s a whole new adventure. And I feel like I am ready. I’ll start by moving the office into the guest bedroom like I have been meaning to do. 95% because I’m ready to, and 5% because Heather will kill me (literally) if I put it off any longer.

Steven!

The Atheist v. Christian / Creationist v. Evolution Argument is Dead

Start with a point O in the plane, the pole. Through the pole O choose a ray (half a line) bounded by O. This is the polar axis. To any point P corresponds a pair of real numbers called its polar coordinates, r and theta, determined as follows. Connect P to O. Measure the distance r from pole O to point P, and measure the angle theta between the axis and OP in a counterclockwise direction in radians (1 radian = 180/Pi degrees). Here is a diagram to illustrate this:
* P(r,theta)
/
/
/
r/
/<.
/ `.
/ theta\
/ .
O o-----+---'-+-----+-----> r
0 1 2 3

In this example, we have plotted the point (3,Pi/3).
Conversely, given a coordinate pair (r,theta), construct from pole O the ray making angle theta with the polar axis, and measure a distance of r along that ray. The endpoint is P.

Observe that (r,theta) and (-r, theta+Pi) are two different pairs of coordinates that represent the same point. Also observe that (0, theta) for any value of theta are infinitely many different pairs of coordinates that represent the same point, the pole O.

To transform from rectangular coordinates to polar ones and vice versa, use the following formulas:


x = r cos(theta),
y = r sin(theta),

r = ±sqrt(x2+y2),
theta = arctan(y/x).
The sign of r is determined by which of the values of the arctangent function is chosen:

Sign of x Sign of y Quadrant of theta Sign of r
+ + I +
+ + III –
– + II +
– + IV –
– – I –
– – III +
+ – II –
+ – IV +
The quadrant of theta can always be chosen to make r positive, if it is so desired.

Note: Many equations which are simple in Cartesian coordinates are very complicated in polar coordinates, and vice versa. To solve any particular problem, one system may be much more tractable than the other. The ability to convert from one to the other quite readily allows us to try both, then use only the easier one.

Let the coordinates of P1 be (r1,theta1), those of P2 be (r2,theta2), and those of P3 be (r3,theta3).

Points
The distance from P1 to P2 isd = sqrt(r12+r22-2r1r2cos[theta2-theta1]).

The coordinates of the point dividing the line segment P1P2 in the ratio a/b are:(sqrt[b2r12+a2r22+2abr1r2cos(theta2-theta1)]/[a+b], arctan([br1sin(theta1)+ar2sin(theta2)]/[br1cos(theta1)+ar2cos(theta2)]).
As a special case, when a = b, the midpoint of the line segment has coordinates(sqrt[r12+r22+2r1r2cos(theta2-theta1)]/2, arctan([r1sin(theta1)+r2sin(theta2)]/[r1cos(theta1)+r2cos(theta2)]).

P1, P2, and P3 are collinear if and only if the determinant

r1cos(theta1) r1sin(theta1) 1
= 0,
r2cos(theta2) r2sin(theta2) 1
r3cos(theta3) r3sin(theta3) 1

or else

r1r2sin(theta2-theta1) + r2r3sin(theta3-theta2) + r3r1sin(theta1-theta3) = 0.

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What is the point in arguing? Atheist and Christian apologetics (with regards to evolution or the existence of God) complicate the issue and confuse those who want practical layman answers. There are brilliant minds on BOTH sides of the argument. Yet brilliant minds can not concede or agree that one or the other is correct? So who is right?  

Art: Marco Brambilla

Art: Edwin Lester

Atheists, essentially, want every Christian to solve the polar coordinate math problem seen above. If you can’t solve the problem, then you do not have an argument to prove to that person that God really exists. Some Atheists even go so far as to say that if you can’t solve this math problem (hypothetical), yet you believe the answer given by a mathematical genius, then you are an idiot for believing the genius and deceived for not figuring out the math problem yourself. The burden is now on me to prove that the mathematical genius is ACTUALLY a 
mathematical genius. Give me a break! I am a stupid creature!

I have concluded that there is nothing, per modern day, that can be used to prove God’s existence. Nothing, per atheist standards. It would take an apple falling from a tree so to speak. What does this amount to modern day? The rapture of God’s people. WHEN this event occurs, atheists will witness unequivocal evidence that God exists. The burden is now on me to prove that the rapture will occur. It’s a never ending battle.

This argument is simple to me, and should be simple to anyone else who chooses to investigate. Christianity is based in faith on the words of the Bible. We believe that EVERYTHING created, has a purpose and its construction was initiated by a superior and intelligent creator. As an American, I have the right to believe foolishly (according to Atheists and anti-Christians), wisely (according to fellow believers), possibly (according to Agnostics), and indifferently (to those who could care less). I shouldn’t be suppressed in the public/national arena or invalidated/ostracized for my belief, nor should I force or impose my belief on anyone else.

I refuse to question my faith because by doing so, I have already failed at its purpose. I fail enough every day as it is. We can all learn valuable lessons from everything/everyone around us and we can use that knowledge to boost our respect and understanding of other cultures, religions, and people. Redefining our faith, however, based on external lessons learned and application through personal selfishness, to me, seems like a recipe for disaster.

This is my point. Believe in what you will! If you are an atheist and someone asks you to prove God doesn’t exist, then by all means, provide them with books, science formulas, lunar equations, and testimony from brilliant minds showing that without a doubt, God is a fairytale.

Let me have the right, however, to tell someone that God created the earth in seven days. Mankind chose free will over eternal paradise. God sent his Son to die a gruesome death and paid for our sins with His blood. He rose from the dead, and He’s gonna be back soon.

That’s my right. And I am in my right mind….

The Antidote.

Rhetoric resonates within our society and turns many sheepish heads in directions they may have never turned if it hadn't been for disaster. You might be used to rhetoric, babe, but I am presenting something that you are not accustomed to. I have already used empty words and they were cast into a vault in Las Vegas. There they lay. They corrode the steel that enslaves them. They pollute those who come within breathing distance. They pollute me no more.

Normalcy teases me like you do. Quit playing to the wishes and desires of others and fashion your life around the things that provoke the life within YOU. The world grows evil around us, and I fear our time is short. Better to have loved then to have never taken the chance. Maybe my years of experience and failure have engrained a yearning for monotony with a splash of your adventure. Will you choose to season me further? Or will you leave me bland based on your desire to please everyone but yourself?

Love waits for you behind a door that you refuse to open. Granted, a snake laid in wait behind the rusty black door you opened last. You were bitten and laid paralyzed in a cloud of confusion and uncertainty.

Awake! The antidote has been placed at your feet and you stare at it devoid of belief. Full relief will not take affect by sipping a drop at a time. Consume the antidote in full and welcome yourself to a new world as cured! Like everything else, the antidote has an expiration date. It will sour with time and eventually will turn to a poison far deadlier then that which already circulates through your veins.

A new door has been placed in your path. Open it…Your cure will stand as complete…

Avoid Death

I asked for a splash of humiliation and I received a handful of ash. Keep in mind that ash cures as charcoal, mostly the color of the average human heart. Can it catch flame and hold fire? I have witnessed this. I have been impressed at times and others I have been horrified! So what is my drink of choice this fine September eve? I'll take a twist of poison and drink willingly. I'll make sure to drown the cure into the fellow sitting in the third barstool to the left of me. He seems so dreary, yet strikingly alive. His child just graduated from college, a promotion fell his way. But his wife left him for a lawyer, said he could not satisfy her with his current pay. From what I understand, he toiled for years and years. He suffered through the sorrow while he fought back the tears. I'll drink to those tears and I'll share with him more. I'll be the shoulder that he would need right now, more then ever before.

I find it strange that she cannot appreciate, the strength that he shows during times that are hard, and going that is rough. He puts up with your pain, he can't get enough. If she places strange skin on a pedestal, high above the wrinkles that she has become used to, how in the world does she think she will survive when hard times come without a binding contract? He has nothing to lose. Except for you, because you are binding, to someone else. And you will lose everything that you said that you love. The gutter will accept you with open arms, and the rain from clouds and eyes will keep you cold on this cold night. The only warmth you will find is orange and wrapped in cylindrical glass, and even she will make you sick, faster then you have ever become before. Find solace in the fact that you will be denied change willingly, for you have changed unwillingly. Blame it on the needle and actions of the past. Your days will be long, you're numbered, you're last…in line at the clinic to cure you, the disease… You shake like you've been broken. Are you kidding me? You haven't seen nothing! You could have avoided your current situation. Instead you embraced it and welcomed it with forced open arms. It's your fault that you died today….

Tattered Doll

I am dazed. Take it from me; a tornado has no mercy when it kills you. I was killed by fierce wind and lived to tell the tale. The remnants of a monster lay strewn across three states, thankfully. I was ripped to pieces, and when the dust settled I was able to examine each part of me that I could find.

I found my heart in Nevada. It was black, hard, and cold. It was torn to pieces. Not by the wind, but by the person that held it before tragedy. It was beating but barely.

I found my head in Colorado. My head holds my mind, but for some reason even THAT was lost somewhere in the clouds. My head tells me that it was in cahoots with my heart. They worked in unison to destroy my body. They succeeded, but to what avail? In the process, head and heart are lying in the woodsy state where they fell.

I found my hands in Southern California. They were not calloused or bloodied. They were not calloused and bloodied because they functioned improperly. They did not hold, they did not work, and they did not love correctly. They established a relationship with the pockets in my jeans and they slept tucked away from responsibility.

I gathered all of the pieces that I could find and bought some glue, nails, and duct tape. I took my heart and wiped away the Nevada sand. I gave it to God and he dusted off the black. He cupped it in his hands and made it warm, which in turn softened it to factory texture. Then he blew into one of the valves and it pumped with rapid new life. I placed the heart into the hole in my chest and covered the hole with duct tape.

I took my head and placed it on my neck. I fastened it securely with nails. I called a conference and asked mind and heart to attend. The two were able to come to a truce and now work in unison to achieve a common goal. My mouth is now able to talk. My mouth can smile for no reason. My eyes are no longer cast to the ground. They look straight ahead. My eyes shine the color blue proudly. Apparently, everything is in working order now. And I believe my head! For the first time in a little over a year, I actually believe my head!

I took my hands and glued them to my wrists. If I could do it with glue and no experience, why can't doctors do it with surgical tools and experience? My hands hate my pockets now. They want to hold, feel, rise to the sky, and they want to love. Never again will they be idle.

The monster is gone. He existed, but has been destroyed. He isn't hiding in the closet or under my bed. He doesn't control my mind or actions any longer. In its place stands a new, old man. I am tattered, a little wrinkled, and a little tired, but I am overjoyed because I live. And I have so much to live for….

Disable The Sail, Lose Your Push

So quick to make judgments! I am usually strong but am vulnerable to your poison at times. I've wronged and been forgiven yet you still insist on giving me hell for something you had no part or place in. You were quick to turn my cheek and then you default on your mortgage because you HAD to buy the coolest new pocket pleasure. Don't cast hatred when you can't control impurities within your own life. So turn my other cheek. I am giving it to you willingly. Your hypocrisy is blinding to me and has obviously rendered you ignorant.

I don't drink much. I don't fly on anything. I find elation in doing things that may seem meaningless. How can you make the assumption that I am not worth the time without trying me out? You ever think you might like taking it easy for a change? I've already lived fifty years in this thirty-year old body. I don't need to prove anything to you. I don't need to swallow Absolut or Patron in excess to have a good time. I already did that. When all was said and done, all I possessed was an aching body and a sickened internal makeup. You are young. When you are my age, you will pass on the same knowledge and agree with my words wholeheartedly.

So open your eyes. Make judgments based on character as it relates to adding someone new to your life. Drunken nights will fade your years and you'll wake up wondering what happened. Your rejection of the caring people will have blown away like ashes in the wind and you will curse the day you let the solid objects go. For the solid objects root you, and the liquid you worshipped will seep into the ground and produce withered weeds. Weeds will serve as a reminder of the sail you tore when you had the option to, instead, let it stay whole so the wind could fill its back. The only reason you haven't joined the soil is because you are beautiful, and beauty will always be spared.

This is a general statement.