On This Day: January 11

School has begun again and I’m taking a class called “Intermediate Fiction Writing.” And so, to inspire myself/mourn over the necessity if writing without “inspiration” or any sort of plot, I’m re-reading fictional things I have written. I stumbled upon the following and figured it was worth posting 1) because I like it, 2) because it gives me a little bit more time to get courage up to write, and 3) because I wrote it exactly two years ago.

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I am a silhouette this Salmon morning. You can’t see the cracks in the sidewalk or those black marks where people so rudely spat their gum. Right now, if I took a picture all that would be visible is an artistic glare of what appears to be a girl looking to the right, holding what appears to be a suitcase at what appears to be a bus stop. Those sun spots would be perfectly balanced and anyone seeing it would remark on its uplifting nature. “It speaks of the journey each of us is traveling.” “It shows how much we can accomplish.”

But in reality, I’m pathetic. My suitcase, so idealized in a silhouette, is actually tattered and not in the “cool” way. [define] My bruises aren’t striking, they’re a sickly yellow-brown. I’d like to think of myself as a silhouette: romanticized, idealized. Despite what I thought, there is nothing romantic about “running away.” I’m not being chased. I’m not sneaking. I’m just disappearing. And I doubt anyone has noticed.

Here’s what happened: someone died. And my boyfriend beat me up. Maybe he had good reason to; maybe I’m not that hurt, but I’m gone. I know where I’m going, or at least I think I do. (I’ve planned this for years). I’ll do what it takes to make a new life in this world. That or I’ll leave it. In any event I’m leaving this asbestos neighborhood and the familiar state.

Oh, Who Would Have Known?

On Friday, December 3rd, 2010–while working in the Borders Express at Fox Valley Mall–a guy named Miguel Muñoz struck up a conversation with me and eventually asked me out. I explained that I’d prefer to get to know someone a bit before I dated them. We exchanged facebook information. He added me that night; I accepted the request. I found out he goes by “Junior.” We talked from midnight to 2 and when he said “So do you think you would like to go on a date with me now?”I said, “I think so.” And we did. On Sunday.  Somehow he thought I was pretty cool and said he’d like to go on another date sometime. And we did.

I’m not sure how or why he put up with all my emotional blockages and breakdowns, the fact we had to “practice” holding hands so I wouldn’t be anxious, not to mention I was too afraid to give him a simple kiss until months after we officially started dating.  He’s the sweetest man, great at encouraging and fun to be around. I finally let myself start to care about him as much as he cared about me. And I freaked out about how much I could lose because of my affections. Many times. And yet, he stuck with me. I’m not saying he’s relentlessly stoic, though, and I’m glad for times when I get to take a turn encouraging him. He continues to remind me that friendship and romantic love are worth the risk of loss. I think I’m finally learning.

It’s been great to get to know his circle of family and friends. I am grateful that they accept me, “approve,” and many consider me their friend–as I do them. This past year has been a beautifully challenging adventure. I wouldn’t change it for an endless supply of chocolate, kittens, deadline-free homework, or anything else. Mom and Dad, thank you for your support and mentoring; I really think we get along better. Rachel, you always have the greatest things to tell me about and I love talking with you. Chris, it’s been nice reconnecting with you through music. Junior, God has used you to teach me things about Himself and myself that just weren’t making sense before, as well as how to trust Him. You have given me a greater awareness of God’s love: since it is infinitely vaster than yours, I have been greatly underestimating Him.

I can imagine spending the rest of my life without Junior–and it’s neither pleasant nor desirable–which is why I am so glad that he proposed on Saturday, December 3, 2011. While it once took me by surprise, it does no longer: I love you! And it’s an honor to be loved by you.

Elevator Friends!

It’s a phenomenon that terrifies my sister and boyfriend, it’s a compulsion I do not entirely understand. Whatever the explanation, the fact remains: I like to talk to strangers in elevators. This is no life-threatening circumstance. Indeed, I don’t get many opportunities to act on this compulsion, but when I do my sister or boyfriend tend to be around. Let me explain how this works.

The best example I have is the Glenn Ellen Public Library. This particular library has a basement where library book sales take place. Thought not quite the bibliophile I aspire to be, my sister certainly fits the bill, and I frequently accompany her to various library book sales. We always look forward to the treasure we may find tucked away in the shelves. It’s after we have found these and paid for them that the Situation usually occurs. There are no stairs. The library is very busy during library book sales and all the patrons leaving and exiting the sale have to take an elevator. One time, upon boarding the elevator with our spoils, I proceeded to address my fellow book lovers. There were no introductory pleasantries, I simply asked them if they had heard about LibraryThing.com and Bookmooch.com. People clutched their bags and moved little more than their eyes. I think there were a few mumbles. I took the remaining ten seconds or so to explain the merits of both websites and exited the lift with a spring in my step. Beside me my sister hurried to her car and with great consternation asked me, “Whyyyy?” Somehow, while everyone else was squirming, the awkwardness failed to impress me.

There have been other occasions–like the time in Sweet Tomatoes when I advocated The Library Mission, and the time in the Aurora Public Library young adult section where I regaled a teenage boy with the merits of Robert Cormier novels as he studiously ignored me. Obviously, the strange behavior of mine is not limited to elevators, but they certainly pose the biggest threat. While I can get through through most social events without intentionally creating awkward moments for those around me, elevators are my weakness. I can’t quite explain it… Recently I went to the Museum of Science and Industry. At the end of the U-505 submarine exhibit there is an elevator. Rather than walking back through the entire thing, my boyfriend and I decided to take it to the next floor. By the time it arrived several other people had walked up and were waiting with us. We all climbed aboard, and I leaned against the wall and held on to the railing. It was too much. I opened my mouth; I closed it. We reached the second floor and exited. The rest of the crowd walked away and I stuck around and looked at the old war posters. Junior stood next to me and I started laughing. I looked at him and told him how hard I had to try to keep quiet because I really wanted to start talking to people. He told me he was watching me, concerned the whole time that I would do something like that. We enjoyed a good laugh at my quirkiness. I suppose I’ll keep being conscientious… most of the time. What fun would it be if I didn’t keep people on their toes?

Protected: Looking Ahead: A Day in Review

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Enter Eliza – An Excerpt From a Work-In-Progress

When I was three, my parents told me I was adopted. When I was five I understood what that meant. I asked who my parents were when I was seven, and I wasn’t given an answer–of course, they didn’t know themselves. At thirteen my dad felt they owed me what they did know: my biological mother had died. But that still hasn’t answered the question I have today, four years later. The question I have yet to ask, because I know they won’t have an answer. I still don’t know why. If I was all that he had left, why did my dad leave me? No one can answer this. No one except him.

We live in Aurora–me, my two brothers, Mom, and Dad. It’s not a perfect life, but it’s a good one. Kyle’s the oldest. He and I have always gotten along well. It was hard when he left for college and it was just me and William. William never wants much to do with me unless Kyle is there. Kyle sort of acts as a buffer between the two of us because somehow, some way, things always go sour. You see, we’re the same age and he holds this against me even though I’m the one that’s adopted. I’m not really treated better. Any differences are probably because I’m a girl and he’s not, but that’s beside the point. Mostly we meet in silence, not daring to stir the waters, afraid of awakening some monster beneath the surface. In this way he’s much like Dad. Only Dad actually loves me deep down–often not even deep down, but right there at the surface. Even when he has his days.

My dad is a strong man and you know it by looking at him. He can make t-shirts look like Brooks Brothers just by squaring his shoulders, gazing down slightly with his head tipped to one side. He has magic and he uses it to keep people in line, like on Black Friday. Two burly figures were going to get into it over nothing more than the cold air that was eating at them both. All Dad had to do was step towards them and put his hands in his pockets. I could have sworn I saw electricity snap in midnight dark when they glanced at his face. And then they withdrew, releasing each other’s coats, just like that. Should something like that make my skin crawl even as my heart swells with pride?

William has the magic, too, but he doesn’t use it the same. I’ve never seen him do noble thing. It’s always shivers and fear, no warming glow. It makes Mom watch him quietly. I’ve heard her call it a “rebellious phase” on the phone, but I think he’s too old for that and so do the people whose car he dented in the parking lot last week. I say a prayer for him sometimes when I see Mom’s worried face, but who knows how much good that really does. It’s been ages since I went to Confession and Will’s only gotten moodier these past few years.

The house is empty today except for me and the dogs. I know Will gets off work in an hour and I don’t want to face him alone, so I grab my bag and head over to Jacqueline’s.

2 Things You Should Never Ask a Borders Employee

1.  What is your store’s last day?

It’s a natural question–a natural question that about 1 in 3 people ask me. Doing the math… that’s oodles of  times an answer is expected and, in short, I don’t have one. You can rest assured that when the liquidators have determined a proper closing date, it will be well-announced, ensuring a sporting Black Friday atmosphere.

Question to ask instead: Are you still being told your store will close sometime in September?
What I would say as of today: yes.

      2. Is there any way you can look up a book for me?

No. That’s why the computers are gone. Our items are not outfitted with GPS (and while that is a novel idea, it would be a hey-day for theft). This means all the computer will tell you is where the book “should” be if we had it. What about the inventory system? Same deal: it would say how many copies there “should” be since it was last updated (which wouldn’t be recently) and where the item “should” be. Unfortunately, many things are not where they “should” be. With the fluctuating stock, items shuffled by customers who rightly can’t remember where things came from (or wrongly just doesn’t want to bother putting them back), new deliveries, and never-ever-ending re-shelves, we no longer have enough payroll hours to alphabetize sections. I rejoice when I can get something both in the right section and where I remember that last name’s letter used to go. Our books are like the grains of sand on a beach: ever-shifting as waves of people wash over them.

Question to ask instead: Have you seen Such-And-Such-A-Book recently?

I love this question. It makes me feel valuable. It makes me feel like you understand the savage environment I’m struggling to tame–and it’s going to get you an answer a lot quicker. It makes me feel like you understand that I am not counting the ways in which I can keep you from finding that which you are seeking.

Inspired by Robert Cormier’s Novel, “After the First Death”

I dance a precarious dance
On a bridge on a bus
Filled with kids
Dulled with drugs
And then we die.
Not 1 by 1
Poetically
All at once
In a cloud, but
We don’t feel a thing.

(Written January 22, 2011)

A Boy Named Jared.

Jared was not a typical boy. He knew this, felt it solemnly. For this reason, we can conclude that he was very normal indeed. From his blonde–or is it brown?–hair, to his 96th percentile height, he was in every perceivable way average. You could argue his “B”s were exceptional, but if you asked the teachers they would admit to grade-boosting because, you know, he is a troubled kid. “But, goodness no! He isn’t a disturbance! It’s just that he’s such an unpredictable boy.” Last year his English teacher remarked to her colleague, half in jest, that perhaps the syllabus was the problem. Was it that the “participation” puzzled him? One day he would exude energy, cause the usual middle-school disturbance and then some. Then next day he would be a glazed and vapid figure, occupying a silent space.

Jared’s dog was his best friend. He decorated his walls with slightly-ripped pictures pulled from last year’s calendars (which he received in abundance). Their mournful or playful eyes would stare at him from every corner. Their muzzles had grooves and ridges from where the backside of the calendars overflowed with markings of events both important and mundane. Jared did not keep a journal, though he tried at one time. He gave it up in the fifth grade, three weeks after starting when the school bully got a hold of it in the cafeteria. He loved his calendars and his dog and the dogs on his calendars. He loved how all the his memories were pressed, hidden, against his wall in perfect square boxes. He loved how he could run his hand across the face of a  sturdy Bullmastiff and feel the tickle of all his calendar memories reaching, ridging, towards him. He kept the older sheets under his mattress in thin plastic boxes that came from his Grandpa’s attic. From time to time he would take them out, smell them, feel the memories. But he had to limit these reminiscences, track them and gauge how long he should wait. A few of the pieces had lost their sheen, the words were hardly tangible. And one was only half a sheet, jagged where Lorna had got a hold of it in her puppy vigor.

Today was the middle of June in the middle of the Midwest and Jared stood in the middle of the street. It was midday. He was waiting for something to feel different with the end of seventh grade. But all he could feel was the duct tape that held his backpack strap together digging into his shoulder blades. He didn’t mind the tape. It added a sort of “grunge” that won him a fair amount of respect–he wasn’t one of those kids who kept everything in mint condition and freaked out if you wrote them a note in their history book. Not them he minded them all so much, but it is better to be unknown than known in such a way.

He would stand in the street at long as he could, either until a car came or his empty stomach finally realized its predicament. He checked his watch twice, the first time being out of habit and the second for comprehension’s sake. One minute away. He could feel the minute approaching, slowly like a hearse. He could feel the seconds holding their breaths, the hands ticking with tension. And for the briefest of moments the world was aware of what it had done. It had kept existing–a year by the measurement of machines we use to define the sun we cannot control. It had kept existing when Anabelle Rose had not. June 15, 12:00pm 2010. Jared imagined the weight on his chest was Time, that it was trading each small milestone etched into his calendars for one large stone. He would carry this stone.

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Where Have My Words Gone?

The grass is greener there… in the good old days. 

Words are an art, are they not? And art, like any discipline, requires just that: discipline. Sometimes I’m visited by that beautiful muse who grants me ordered words with painless precision. Most times I find myself floundering. I cannot begin, and so I don’t. I find myself missing words. I miss how they move(d) me. I look at my notebooks, empty of new entries, and wonder what happened to me. Admittedly, I’ve read articles that confirm my suspicions regarding depression–it can be one hell of a muse. With that Enemy more-or-less defeated, I still long for the way it urged me to write, filled me with words and forced me to arrange them.

I want to write. I fear that I have nothing to say.
(And never will. And that should I, I could never write it well.)

It is my intent to begin writing again, though I know not what. Fiction? Reflections on Bible readings? Poetry? The promise that all of this holds thrills me. I cannot wait to begin, and yet I am afraid. (But that is nothing new; I am not in the best of moods.)

Experimenting?

Perhaps these poems make a little too much sense. They aren’t meant to, really. I had an idea: What if each line begins a new thought–which is finished by the following line–and also ends the thought begun by the line before it? In a way, each line is “read” twice, but only written once. The two poems that follow are nothing grand, merely me trying to make this idea work. I can’t wait to try again.

Each and every moment
Is a photograph
Worth more than a memory?
Is the present
Without its weight?
On the past
I do often reflect
Behind me.

—–

Without you
There is a void
I was once unaware of
What?
Is nothingness made of?
Something gone away?
Is what we feel
Dependent on what is felt?
Before, the fallout begins
There is a void
even with you.

Change of Plans – A Family Movie Night Presentation

Family Movie Night is back! If you haven’t already, mark 8/7c January 8th (this Saturday) on your calendar, so you won’t miss FOX’s premier of “Change of Plans,” starring Brooke White. You can view the trailer here. This is the second Family Night film I’ve seen, and the first thing I noticed when watching “Change of Plans” was how they used good music, yet again. (Secrets of the Mountain was the other one I saw, and I actually own a copy.)

The Danvillle’s have plans, they have rewarding careers. When the movie opens–with Sally Danville, played by Brooke White, singing at a gig–there is no reason to suspect that their both of their lives would change any time soon. Then Sally gets a phone call: a best friend she hasn’t seen in years died along with her husband on a Peace Corp mission in Africa, leaving behind four kids. Now the kids are in the United States, and under the guardianship of Sally and Jason Danville if they’ll take them. It isn’t much of a choice, since it’s only temporary after all–right? Suddenly becoming the parents of four kids presents inherent difficulties, not to mention the culture shock experienced by both the kids and the Danvilles.

Soon the kids are settling in and making friends, even in their grieving. At the same time, work opportunities open up for both Jason and Sally. It’s not possible for both of them to pursue them, but should they even pursue one? The children’s case worker is diligently searching for a home that will take all four kids, but Sally and Jason aren’t so sure if they want the kids to leave anymore–and it may not be up to them to decide.

Change of Plans really is a family movie–and I mean that in a good way. It has a thorough plot, enough suspense to keep you interested, and no language or inappropriate scenes to worry about. The acting was solid; I especially liked Jayme Lynn Evans  performance as Jordan. Also, I was pleasantly surprised near the end of the movie. Every movie builds up a final conflict of sorts, but it was not overdone as it easily could have been. By leaving out unnecessary drama, the character’s felt more realistic. I wouldn’t mind owning this Family Movie Night movie at all.

If you feel the same way, there’s an opportunity for you to win one of 100 copies or even a Vizio 55″ HDTV or a portable DVD player. Simply go to this site, watch the trailer, and then fill out the form that appears. The contest ends in the evening on January 8th, so enter soon!

LifeDiscipler: Life Answers from the Bible (Review)

We are living in the Day of the Gadget. I don’t deny that I’m young, but even I feel outdated at times–what with all the leaps and bounds technology makes. I can’t help but wonder how things will be ten years from now, but that’s a topic for another time. As life adapts to utilize new technologies, it only makes sense to use them in a ways that will help us to better connect with and understand God. It’s common for me to go through periods where I read my Bible regularly, then lo and behold something happens and I realize I haven’t really read it in a week. Or more. If I forget once then it’s easier to forget again.

That’s why I’m so thrilled with this new little gadget: the LifeDiscipler. We have little computerized Bibles, we have Bible Apps, and all of those things are good. In using these mediums I run into the same dilemma as a print Bible, though: where do I start? There is a print solution. Do you know those little books that look something like this?

They’re great for nightstands. Yet even though I’m a book lover and my family owns thousands of books (yes), it’s not really something I want to carry around–or have space for–in my purse. So what about something like this?

Sure! But what does it do? Meet the LifeDiscipler: a handy portal to more than 1,500 themed Bible verses. What makes the LifeDiscipler special is its purpose. It doesn’t just want to give you access to Bible verses in a new way, it wants get you actively involved in reading them throughout the day. Here’s how it works: 1) Select a subject and 2) Go to “Set Up” and pick how often you want to read them–every 15, 30, or 60 minutes. After you’ve done that, the LifeDiscipler will beep accordingly, giving you a new verse to think about at every time increment. I brought it with me to work and school; it’s not so loud as to be distracting and if you don’t get to read the verse right away, it waits for you.

The creators of put a lot of thought into this product. They chose verses from five different translations to deliver vernacular verses. They put in a “memorize” and “favorites” option at the bottom of each verse so you can find meaningful verses in one place. And it is very simply to use. There are no elaborate functions to learn: you use the up and down arrows and can quickly find your way to the main menu by selecting “main menu” at the bottom of each screen. One thing that may bother tech-savvy users is the plain, unlighted screen. But again, this was done after careful thought by the developers of the LifeDiscipler because upgrading it would increase the price by about $20. As it is now, you can’t see the screen in the dark, but in such cases I’ve used my cell phone to illuminate it.

I have loved using the LifeDiscipler. It’s great to have something devoted entirely to Bible verses. I like YouVersion.com, I like my nightstand book, but it’s easier to get distracted while on the computer or reading. There’s something engrossing about technology, and the LifeDiscipler uses that to my advantage: I’ll read verse after verse, and when I find something I want to know more about, I pick up my complete Bible and read what else is going on in that chapter.

So maybe you’re still looking for Christmas gifts–why not give this? You can get it at www.lifediscipler.com or at a Family Christian Book Store. Use the code “CHRIST 20″ (space between the word and number) until December 17th and get 2o% off. For an undetermined time, “life30″ will get you 30% off. There are also protective covers. I have my eye on a red one.

Disclosure notice: I was provided with a free LifeDiscipler so I could review it, however I was not required to write a positive review.

Tweenage Mean

Live and learn. Usually that expression is meant to convey a sense of resigned optimism: I’ve learned something that will be useful to me later. Thinking back on my childhood–not too long ago–I could be a certain kind of mean. When I was seven years old I decided my slightly older cousin was the fount of all wisdom, and that if she did not approve of my friend then I should no longer be friends with that person. I changed my favorite color to green–because that was her favorite color, and thus much cooler than purple. Occasionally my conscience caught up to me and I would return to that friend that my cousin disapproved of and win her back with apologies and gifts.  (I remember a specific card/pom-pom/gel pen combo.) And then once again I would “dump” her, giving into the allure of “coolness.”

When you are little it’s not uncommon to try and make things go your way with the threat of “If [such and such] I won’t be your friend anymore” or “I won’t invite you to my birthday party.” These things are the sources of power and persuasion. When you get just a little older things begin to change. People call you out for abusing your “power” and you resort to other means. I know that outright meanness still exists in the tween years, but subtlety comes into play. Whether or not someone is consider unanimously “uncool” or you simply don’t want to be their friend, you learn how to dissuade them from interacting with you. Ignoring someone becomes a powerful tool that can manifest in varying degrees. You might straight up ignore the person, pretending they are invisible, which might get you into trouble. Then you might casually, yet meaningfully, avoid contact with someone isolating them by default as if it simply never occurs to you to interact with them.

Today we had a party for a friend of the family. Her husband died yesterday, but it was a surprise birthday party planned well in advance. Both her and her family were appreciative for the event. It went very well; it was good for them to be around people. But I have one regret. This lady’s daughters are around my age and we knew each other years ago during our childhood and that awkward tween phase. I was never cruel to them that I can recall, but I was never particularly nice either. We never really tried to be friends–the one daughter who was about the right age and I. But I know on a few occasions when it could have been a possibility I ignored her or separated her from “my group.” And when that didn’t work I was mean. Now, today, I wanted to talk with her, but I didn’t know what about; we didn’t have any good memories. I wanted to show her I cared about her, that I was sorry her dad died, but all I could think about was how we were never really friends–how I never let that happen.

What is it that made me mean? Why didn’t I want to try, even when it wouldn’t have hurt me at all? I may be several years older now, but am I doing the same things using more sophisticated means? I don’t want my life experience just to show me how I can better block people out. If I am going to live and learn, then I want to be learning how I can let people in. Later on it may be too late.

Homeless for the Holidays

I saw the trailer for Homeless for the Holidays on its website, and was excited. Not only did the trailer flow well, it was funny and timely. So when I got a copy of the movie, I gathered most of my family together (my brother preferred to play his guitar) and we watched it. There was a lot of laughing going on. Now, if you watch the trailer, you might have an idea why: there is a definite comic edge to the story. Although the plot is adapted from a real family’s experience, it’s not all drama bemoaning the loss of an enviable career and looming homelessness. Rather, it is the discovery of what the true source of joy is, how a family can thrive in such circumstances, and what it means to “work anywhere” to get by and survive. In the case of our protagonist, Jack Baker, he ends up working at a fast food restaurant, wearing a penguin costume. He is waiting for his previous boss to re-hire and promote him once a debacle Jack took the fall for blows over. But tensions mount in his household as Christmas comes closer, and there simply isn’t enough money for utilities and mortgage payments. I thoroughly enjoyed Matt Moore’s performance as Jack; his is a gifted actor, and I would like to see him in other movies.

That being said, there are some definite flaws in this film. Taking into consideration the budget, I can overlook the lack of real snow on location. The cinematography is excellent in most places; only in one scene did I wonder what was going on with the cameraman. The biggest problem is balance. The director–and writer–George A. Johnson has done extensive work directing and writing commercials, which is probably why the I love the movie trailer so much. However, the kinds of things that work in commercials don’t always work in movies. For example, the Bakers go shopping and face the embarrassment of needing to take items off their purchase. Instead of ending the scene, an eccentric–if not insane–manager is introduced. While it is initially amusing, the scene becomes unrealistic and it fails to balance with the realism that is portrayed in other scenes. The movie’s tone ping-pongs. Aside from the opening carol–which was an excellent choice and arrangement–the soundtrack also struggles with balance. Younger children would be less critical and enjoy the movie much more.

The first few scenes are a bit didactic, blatantly developing Jack Baker’s selfishness. Again, this could be for children’s benefit so they can more simply pick up themes. The “fights” that take place are typical of family movies: the parents apologize for “yelling” and older viewers wonder where they learned to fight so civilly. (Sign me up for classes there!)  I would recommend this for families with younger children, expecting that they would enjoy watching Homeless for the Holidays together. There is a satisfying ending, no questionable content, and serves as a great conversation starter. This isn’t a replacement for the time-honored “It’s a Beautiful Life,” but it makes a cozy addition to Christmas collections.

Disclosure notice: I was provided with a free copy of the movie so I could review it, however I was not required to write a positive review.

 

What It Means to Swallow People Whole

In 2007, The Receiving End of Sirens—a rock band who acquired and ambient edge—released their second album entitled, The Earth Sings Mi Fa Mi. According to a Triple Crown Records press release, the title itself holds more meaning that anyone might expect: it pays tribute to Johannes Kepler’s theory that planets orbiting the sun produce tones, moreover, that Earth creates the tones Mi-Fa-Mi which stand for misery, famine, and misery. The press release clearly states that “Misery, refer[s] to an empty place.” This is important because the album reflects these themes, beginning with one of the most ambiguous set of lyrics which belongs to the opening song, “Swallow People Whole” (Henderson). And so “Swallow People Whole” begins by encompassing life in a single sentence, “From the manger to the morgue,” and ends with an open-ended fate: “We lose ourselves once more” (The Receiving End of Sirens line 1, 39). Between these lines, a story unconfined by any sort of timeline describes an inner battle summarized by the lines, “But I want change / But I won’t change” (10, 11). Although found in a mainstream album, “Swallow People Whole” contains Christian theological overtones that reflect on and explore the emptiness in every human heart.

“Manger,” as an individual word is loaded with inherent correlation to the birth of Christ (1). Any other reference to birth could have been used. Followed up by the lines, “Strangers are born and reborn / giving birth to the wages of sin… / and claiming it came from within,” there is a definite Christian worldview (2-4). People who choose to believe Jesus was God are often referred to as being “born-again,” and the New International Version of the Bible says in Romans 6:23, “The wages of sin is death” (Biblegateway.com).  Also, the concept that sin “came from within” aligns with Christian doctrine of Original Sin: it is the idea that man is born imperfect with a propensity towards selfish, evil behavior (4).

The second stanza says, “Within me there’s a gaping hole / And it seems I’m last to know / And no one, or thing, can fill this empty space / that I’ve been pacing in” (5-8). Our narrator here is either expressing an emptiness that has proved insatiable, or a fatalistic acceptance of dissatisfaction. The former again aligns with Christian theology that apart from Jesus Christ, there is nothing that can fully satisfy, and the latter is a universal expression—within and apart from belief systems—that life can feel meaningless at times.
Next we hear, “I fell in love with an empty place / But I want change / But I won’t change” (9-11). Without context, this appears merely to be a description of a common human struggle: falling in love with and glorifying meaninglessness and emptiness, wanting to change and yet remaining unchanged. Considering theology, there is an added dimension. Regarding wanting to change and not, Romans 7:15 says in the English Standard Version, “For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (Biblegateway.com).

The song continues on with, “I can’t feel a thing / The pins and needles sing / ‘I can say it / But it won’t mean a thing / Because I know you’ll fall for / Each and every pretty word I sing’” (12-17). Our narrator—since the lyrics are written by a male, we can assume the main character is a “he”—says he cannot feel a thing, but does this mean physically, mentally, spiritually, or perhaps a combination of all three? Since the “gaping hole” mentioned in the second stanza was not physical, that is ruled out (5). The third stanza apparently to refers to a mental state of falling in love with an empty place, and there is this recurrent spiritual thematic element. Thus, the numbness is a combination of mental and spiritual numbness. Pins and needles are associated with the border between the sleeping and waking of limbs. This infers that the narrator is not quite awake mentally or spiritually, but alert enough to recognize that because “each and every pretty word” he sings “won’t mean a thing” they would be better left unsaid (17, 15). This alludes to 1 Samuel 16:7 which says, “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (Biblegateway.com). The narrator acknowledges that any human would be deceived by a “pretty word” he sings, but the disconnection between his words and heart would not get passed God (17).

Furthering this topic are the lines, “Spirits spin me around once more / Sin if you sing the overture / That lulls me back to sleep / I swear I’m yours to keep” (18-21). Without other references to alcohol, “Spirits” likely refers to the idea of supernatural influence such as demons, and the result from being spun around is usually dizziness, which equates with confusion (18). So who is the “you” mentioned in line 16? It appears to be any member of humanity, not limited to the listener who—according to the final line of this song—will lose himself or herself “once more” to an emptiness that cannot be filled (39). Earlier the mention of singing had to do with deceit. Since the Bible considers lying or deception to be a sin, “sing[ing] the overture” is sinning by deception in word or deed (19). The next line is less obviously a Biblical reference. Christians who are not actively striving to follow Christ’s example or have a personal relationship with God are sometimes referred to as being “asleep,” and it is a dangerous place to be. Saying, “I swear I’m yours to keep” in line 21 is a type of surrender, but surrender to what?

“Consumed with consuming / And soon I’ll swallow people whole / I’ll have back what strangers stole” (22-24). The narrator now seems to go on a rampage, consumed with a desire to fill the “empty place” (7).  All of this is done with a sense of justice—after all, it is what “strangers stole” (24). “Swallow[ing] people whole” means using someone entirely for your own benefit without a concerned conscience, much like a snake devours prey (23). Now considering the reference to “Spirits” influencing the narrator in the previous stanza, this phrase has even more meaning (18). 1 Timothy 4: 1-2 says, “ . . . in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons. Such teachings come through hypocritical liars, whose consciences have been seared as with a hot iron” (Biblegateway.com). Taking this into consideration, the line “and soon I’ll swallow people whole” signifies the concept of abandoning faith (23). Moreover, it connects with proselytizing deception with a numbed heart, based on the following lines: “If I can’t find my happiness / I’ll soon devour yours / I’ll sing your pretty head to rest / With my overture / Because I fell in love with an empty place / But I want yours / But I want yours” (25-31). Again we see him dissatisfied and consuming. Then, rather than simply “sleep[ing]” himself, he is causing someone else to sleep because he wants that which gives the allusion of filling the “gaping hole” and “empty place” (20, 5, 7).

At this point the song is nearly done and the music reaches its peak with the little variation on the words: “For it I fell / For it I fell so fast / . . . For it I fell so hard / . . . I fell for it / We lose ourselves once more” (32-39). The narrator fell for the empty place, for the idea that at some point he may find the “one or thing” to fill the “gaping hole” (7-5). By switching to the plural “we” in the final phrase, he is encompassing all of humanity in his struggle, just as all of humanity is encompassed in birth and death “from the manger to the morgue” (39, 1).  The journey the narrator has taken us through is from life to death and from struggle to an unsatisfactory conclusion. At this point, he has firmly established Christian theology in the very broadest of terms—excluding any sort of redemption—and shown us just how emptiness has swallowed people whole.

 

 

Works Cited

Biblegateway.com. Biblegateway.com, 1993. Web. 12 Oct. 2010.

[http://www.biblegateway.com/]

Henderson, Steve. “TREOS Press Release.” AbsolutePunk.net. AbsolutePunk.net, 1 June 2007.

Web. 14 Oct. 2010. [http://www.absolutepunk.net/showthread.php?t=241591]

The Receiving End of Sirens. “Swallow People Whole.” The Earth Sings Mi Fa Mi. Triple Crown Records, 2007.