meanderings on harry potter

I must admit that I do enjoy reading the Harry Potter books. I'm currently half way through the final book and currently Sara is having her turn at reading. Sigh. It is quite fascinating how much of a phenomenon these books have become. Everywhere you turn, for months now, you see sings of Potter-mania. We were not originally planning on buying the book, but we caved Sunday night. We simply want to know how it ends. And we are definitely not alone. I see the book at work, hear about it from friends... there is seemingly no escape from it.

I would go on but really I'm just dwelling on the fact that I can't read it right now and so I wait. Now I really need to find something to distract me!

geeky enjoyment

I'm having a small celebration in front of that box that saps away life. One of my all time favorite shows is back on the air. BBC America has started from the beginning showing "MI-5". In England it's called Spooks and they are getting ready to air season 6. I'll bide my time waiting for the dvd or its airing on BBCA, which ever comes first.

a little self reflection

I'll be the first to admit that I tend to look at life with a critical eye. There is something within me that has always been dissatisfied with the status quo. Sometimes this is a good thing but it sometimes leads me to stick my foot in my mouth.

I think the hardest part for my family is simply putting up with rants about what must seem the same things time and time again. My wife is amazing in the ways she puts up with it and challenges it when she feels the need. The hardest thing for me personally is not letting that critical nature breed bitterness toward people or situations I find myself in.

There are times when I keep this in check, but I definitely struggle with it when I've been traveling overseas. Walking down streets lined with trash and roughly made stalls selling all kinds of goods. Browsing through a market place knowing I am the richest person there despite my meager salary. I think about the people I passed by struggling to make it each day as I proceeded into the local market to buy a Coke and a Twix for a snack.

And so tonight as Sara and I walked to the video store to rent a movie I found my thoughts again drifting toward a critical reflection of my own life. I'm not denying that I do lots of good things to help make a difference in this world. But I know that there is still so much that I take for granted. And there is till so much for me to learn and room for me to grow in life. Thank you God for showing me that I'm not there yet and that I'm still loved where I'm at. Thanks for showing me each day new how much you love me and how far I've come. Thanks for giving me new chances to act and speak in love instead of hate and bitterness.

reverse culture shock

You always hear about people experiencing culture shock, but I've always found that it's the reverse culture shock that I struggle with. Just to clarify, reverse culture shock occurs when you return home to your native culture.

It's hard readjusting to life here where we can buy what we want when we want. We whine and complain about stuff that is horribly trivial. Listening to my kids complain about the food on the table.

You spend this time working alongside and getting to know kids and adults that struggle everyday to get one meal of rice or bulgar wheat with fish oil. They might earn $2 a day if they're lucky and have the right skills. And the kids... In Liberia 50% of the population is under the age of 15, they've only had peace for 3 and a half years, do the math. All they know is war and poverty. Think about talking to a 13 yr old describing being put into a line and the person next to him being shot dead. And that's not even the worst of the stories. It blows your mind.

And then you return to the US where all the magazines are talking about diets, and Britney, and on and on. People at work are complaining about photocopies being folded wrong or running half an hour late. This could be a long list. My cup of coffee and breakfast sandwich the other morning was the equivalent of a weeks wages.

Some days I hate being an American.