Dreaming. Barfing. Singing.

Sometimes God makes sure that I believe what I sing

This quick blog is along the lines of my "My Ebenezer" post, except that it's more of a joke than a spiritual revelation that I had.

I try to stay true to the words that I worship the Lord with, whether it is in prayer or in the songs that I lead others in proclaiming. It's important to mean what you say! The very first time I led worship vocally was at Davis College, and God used (among other things) the words to the song I was singing to convict me to step out of my comfort zone and trust in His purpose for my gifts. So, right from the start, this has been a theme. Mean what you sing.

Last night I had a dream in which the night never ended; though I was sleeping in reality, I forgot that I had ever found my way to bed and in dreams I continued the exhausting night as circumstance after sleep-preventing circumstance kept me from getting any rest. Finally, around dream-world 6:00am, I overcame all synthetic obstacles and in my dream, I fell asleep. In reality, I woke up at 6:30.

The brief moment of confusion in which dreams and reality overlap did not treat me very well, as for a minute or so I was convinced that I had only been asleep for a half hour.
As I realized incrementally that 80% of my recollection of the previous night was a mirage, I remembered that today is Sunday, and I had to get cracking in order to be ready to lead worship at both services. Exhausted, I wandered into my kitchen.

Being the health-concious person that I am, I drank a large cup of water right away. After that I forced myself to eat some oatmeal, and poured a cup of coffee that I held firmly in front of me as I summoned the energy to drink it.

Drink. The coffee. I stared blankly ahead of me. I have to drink this coffee.
No motion.

My parents walked out the front door and called out "We'll meet you at church!"

Once left alone in my kitchen, I became very conscious of my catatonic state. Sitting rigid at a table is a bad excuse to be late to church.
I stared purposefully into my cup of hot brown energy, and got ready to send it down the hatch.
I need this coffee to get through this day.
The show must go on. I took several gulps and triumphantly placed the empty mug (still warm) in the sink. For good measure, I drank another full cup of water to keep from dehydrating. Then I left my home housing an epic battle between two liquids inside of my gut.

When I pulled into my church's parking lot, I felt that the battle was about to be taken outside. I tweeted, asking my twitter followers for their prayers against my sick-feeling stomach. No sooner had I sheathed my cellular than the need to hurl came upon me like green olives on a pregnant lady's cereal. (What?)

Jake and I were discussing only yesterday what our favorite word for "vomit" is. I like the phrase "tossing cookies". Jake likes "Blowing chunks." What I did was more like "shooting fluid." Whatever you want to call it, I felt like Squirtle.

Autocorrect really wants me to leave SQUIRTLE in all caps. As you wish, Apple.

Anyway, immediately upon supersoaking my tires in the parking lot, I felt worlds better and walked into church ready to strum some Jesus Jams.

During the service, I was playing the song "Hosanna (Praise Is Rising)" when I came to the line "When we see You, we find strength to face the day"

In the middle of singing, I flashed back to the moment that I slugged a hot cup of coffee in order to find strength to face the day. As I reflected on the fact that coffee can't equip you for a day the way that He can, I remembered casting my coffee back into the overworld only an hour earlier.

I'm not implying that God caused me to vomit up my coffee in order to recognize Him as my source of daily strength and mean what I sing, however it was a funny moment to recognize the irony and I almost laughed in the middle of the song and Kim Walker'd that jones.

A Fairy Prince, A Hairy Prince, and Berry Prints.

Once Upon A Time,
Jacob, Hannah and I decided to watch a movie on Netflix. As Hannah flipped through the options, a title came to my attention. The Swan Princess.
I made some kind of loud noise and announced to my siblings that I used to watch that movie ALL THE TIME as a small child.

Rather than just choosing that movie (which would have been a questionable choice to begin with), I asked Hannah to search for a different movie that I used to watch all the time: the infamous Thumbelina.

I literally watched Thumbelina constantly as a child. Days in a row. I knew every song. I absorbed mannerisms and quotes. However, I don't believe I had watched it since I was around 6 years old. Until last night.

Before I go any farther, I have to share this...
This video is from the beginning of Thumbelina where all the animals are singing about her, and she straight up does the punch-dance-run that I do daily. If you spend any regular amount of time with me, click and behold; the video will automatically go to the part where she does it because the internet does what I tell it to do.

Now, I logically noted that since one of my only dance moves was derived from a movie that I watched as a small child, it is possible that I have picked up other things subconsciously as well.

I really hope that's not true.

The more I watched, the more incredulous I became. Thumbelina herself is completely ridiculous, from her obnoxiously dramatic voice and terrible logic to her inexplicable habit of constantly losing her balance and falling over. Seriously, the whole movie she's stumbling around and waving her arms like she's going to fall.

I had a lot of critique for the little lady, when suddenly...

Cue love interest. Prince Cornelius.
A tiny little fairy man. With pretty sparkly wings. And tights.
After stating a few qualms I had with the romantic side of this movie, I will move on to what I'm actually here to blog about....but PAUSE.
1. Thumbelina and Cornelius meet when he breaks into her house. Then they leave, fly around on his royal bumblebee named Buzz Bee, singing and gettin rull cuddly. Then he drops her off at home and leaves. Within this first night of ever seeing eachother, they almost kiss like five times. What up boundaries?
2. Thumbelina gets kidnapped the next day and talks about him as though they've known eachother forever. Of course she drops the L bomb like it's hot. Someone even asks her if they're engaged, and she implies that it won't be long until they are. Keep in mind, they met ONCE.

I could rant about the messages being communicated to impressionable and romantically-minded little girls about love (and premature PDA), but I'm not really in it for satire right now.

Jacob made a comment along the lines of "Why is HE the fairy? Why isn't this movie about a guy who meets a fairy GIRL?"

Around then is when I realized that Thumbelina is far from the only "princess movie" that includes an effeminate male love interest. Though Cornelius is a fairy prince and thus a really extreme example, I couldn't think of any fairy tale that involved a seriously manly love interest. The men in these stories are usually royal (with the exception of like, Aladdin... who becomes a prince later) and they don't seem to have much of a life outside of waiting for a worthy princess. Sitting, waiting, wishing. Wistful lonely princes.

Obviously, by definition, somebody has to be royal in a princess movie. And for some reason, girls like to dream about being princesses. Why? I'm not sure. I don't even know what princesses legitimately do. I don't think little girls do either. Possibly, they just want to be princesses so they can walk around being gorgeous and getting whatever they want, including some handsome guy who also doesn't do anything but walk around being gorgeous getting whatever he wants. Then the can marry and create small gorgeous children that walk around being adorable and getting whatever they want. Then you have a family of three people that think the world owes them something for being gorgeous.

That, ladies and gentlemen, was called a "ramble". I don't know where I was going and I don't know where I arrived. So now, I'm going to google search "What does a princess do?" because I don't know at all.

Okay. My internet research concludes roughly this:
A princess is a housewife, that can basically have whatever she wants but has to make sure she doesn't become more popular than her husband. Also she should make sure she uses her automatic fame to support charitable causes, and she must go to fancy dinners with foreign royalty, and make (and I quote) "balcony appearances".

Cool. Now we know.

That's actually kinda cool. Being a housewife and not having to worry about making ends meet.

However, I'm now confused about single princesses.

Actually wait, that makes sense. If you are a SINGLE princess, you have nothing to do but bake for potential husbands and get kidnapped. Jeez... Mario wouldn't have to rescue her so often if he would just man up and pop the question, right?

 Wait no, what am I saying? Mario's definitely man enough. She must have rejected him because he's a plumber and can't support her. Maybe he doesn't want to marry her because he doesn't want to be a prince. He'd probably have to shave.

 

NO. NO. No. 

I can't ever focus. Where was I going with this? 

Disney Princes. Okay. Shifting away from Nintendo. 

Just take a look at this picture of Disney Princes that I found yesterday:

Do I even have to comment on this?
And yet I do... with a BuLLeTeD LiSt!1!11

• Capes are not manly unless you are one of the following:
• A superhero
• A supervillian

The obvious inclusion of flowers and sparkles shall speak for itself. 

However, last night I took it upon myself to decide which one of these princes was actually the manliest. I immediately ruled out any prince that initiated a love story with a creepy sing-off in the forest. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, your boys are out. 

Cinderella's dude. You're wearing shoulder pads. Boom, roasted. 

Prince Eric, Aladdin, or ...THE BEAST! 

It seems obvious that the winner should be the beast, but it just isn't. I mean look at him. It's sad, because he had some real potential. Who'da thunk he'd transform from a monstrous and physically capable buffalo-bear-lion hybrid to a seriously hairless man with shoulder-length goldy locks? Belle got ripped off. Bait and switch.

Not that manliness is based on stature and hair, cuz it's not. But moving on... 

Eric or Aladdin. Aladdin, to be fair, married into royalty and wasn't always a prince. Grew up the hard way, had to fight for his life and live on the edge. 

Eric, however, is a sailor. He does something other than waiting around for a potential wife. Something pretty rugged.

Ariel's kind of a creep. She's pretty much a stalker. However, she was only sixteen. Sixteen year old girls are definitely creepy stalkers when they crush on people. Her behavior is dumb, and not excused. Regardless, I'm pretty sure Eric is a baller for

1. Legitimately being a sailor, IE being something other than just a prince
2. Spearing Ursula! Conflict resolution. Shank the evil.
3. Being a cool dad later. 

I choose Eric. 

For some reason, I'm too ADD to sit in one place and think of one thing for long enough to complete a blog entry in one night. I spent three or four nights (I can't remember precisely how many) writing this. Don't attach that fact to the quality of the blog, please. I didn't take any time to perfect it. I just kept getting distracted from finishing. 

In conclusion, Disney princes are obviously intended to be idealistic personifications of "the perfect man".

• The "bad guys" are usually manlier, but they also suck
• Emphasized traits are generally their singing voice, and their desire to pursue a girl they hardly know and immediately marry her. 
• A sensitive, romantic, good looking, singing prince is only able to protect you because he has an army (With the exception of Philip who slayed a dragon. Kudos to that guy.) and bodyguards and loyal subjects and all that. I bet Snow White could beat that nameless prince at arm wrestling.

Personal Disclaimer:

Just so you all know, I'm not dissing classic love stories on account of my jaded bitter soul or something dumb like that. I happen to be, in fact, a huge fan of realistic romance. Real life love. I think it's awesome. I celebrate it. I'm awed by it. My God invented that stuff. It rocks my world.

However, fabricated romance is just so funny sometimes. Funny and awful. Chick flicks are horrible things. Disney romance is classically corny. I'm just full of weird commentary. That is what brings this blog to you today, not some weird angst I have against romance.

OH, before I forget, here are your aforementioned Berry Prints, as promised.

....aaand CUT!