Alright so there I was, reading my dear friend Kellum's blog about this new movie...you might have heard about it...called Avatar. And I thought I would be unoriginal and write about it as well. May I say-it was amazing! Not just the visual effects, not just 3-D, and not just the I-MAX that I saw it in-I thought the movie was astounding.

But before you go see it, know this, I am pretty sure the movie is based on Pocahontas.

For those of you haven't seen this movie it is about a group military-trained soldiers and company bureaucrats (the English) who come from Earth and make a colony on another planet called Pandora (Pre-Colonial America), which is inhabited by scantily clad warrior tribes with blue skin and cerebral cord strands disguised as long hair-braids (the Native Americans) and they are called the Na'vi. The Na'vi have something the humans want, a rare mineral called obtanium (the gold the English think is all over the place). However, the Na'vi's home (a giant tree) is sitting right on top of the obtanium, and the humans want it. In an attempt to be diplomatic and keep the hippies on earth happy, they create Avatars for humans to use to get to know the Na'vi better. A human just lies in a pod, then his or her mind is transferred into a Na'vi clone body. There is one Avatar-using marine named Jake Sully (John Smith) who falls for the Na'vi princess, Neytiri (Pocahontas!!!). There is even a cruel military commander (Ratcliffe from the movie), a native desiring to marry the princess (Kocoum), and even an all-seeing, magical tree (Grandmother Willow).

If this isn't based on Pocahontas than you might as well say Christopher Paolini "accidentally" copied the story-line from Star Wars.

This movie had a lot of things most movies don't have today: a heart and soul to it. The characters were real and had their flaws. The movie wasn't just a mess of stupid, pointless graphics and annoying sex-apopeal. True the Na'vi could have worn a little more clothing-but they were aliens so no lust there.

This movie has gotten a lot of flack for being racist. If anything it is racist against white people-but I think James Cameron (the director) wanted to make the Na'vi look like indigineous people as we think of them so that we would make the connections. As for being overly "green", the movie did not have that "oh you are a stupid American because you drive a hummer and shop at Wal-Mart and don't recycle, so let's all go get dread-locks and discuss politics in dimmly-lit coffee houses." The movie was more about taking care of the planet because it takes care of you too.

I know there are lot of Christians who feel that we don't have a duty to take care of the world because this is not our home. Well, that's fooey. God still took time to create it and you should take care of it or you're saying "this isn't my mess to clean up and I don't care what happens to you beautifully-crafted oceans."

Sorry for going off on a tangent, but I think we do need to get a little more focused on keeping the enviroment clean and not bulldozing forests for another Starbucks.

The movie was great, and to you critics who review movies and gave it bad reviews-who gives a crap what you think?

So I'm sitting in the library writing this and listening to Lady Gaga's latest phenomenon-Bad Romance (right now it's at the french-speaking part). Oh, and I did I mention-it's raining...again.

I seemed to have developed a bad romance with rain. During my pre-Harding years, the rain was one of my great loves. The dark, sinister clouds crowding the sky, rumbling with thunder and frenzied electrons, hurling lightning bolts and sheets of water were enough to excite the imagination of any preadolescent. There was also another reason why I loved rain: no lacrosse. Lacrosse could not have picked a better season than the season of april showers and may flowers.

Rain is one of those epic/romantic settings God sent the world for love-lulled couples to kiss in and for dramatic scenes of good vs. evil facing off once and for all (Matrix Revolution anyone?)

Rain meant going outside, spinning around in the wet air, singing with the thunder and playing with lightning. But now , we have a bad romance.

Rain now means getting drenched on my way to class, trying to cross teacherous rivers of dirty water on my way to the cafeteria, having to change my shoes three times a day because they're sogging beyond repair. And Harding doesn't help any in that area. Thanks to our crudely made sidewalks and awful drainage system, Harding University quickly becomes the lost city of Atlantis, complete with currents that take you to your classes and mermaid ring ceremonies.

The sun has been hidden by darkness-but light always wins-I just hope it does soon and before I have to change shoes again.

Once you get past the blood-thirsty ice queen, the murderous uncle, and the fact that a little girl gets lured too easilyt into the lair of a shirtless fawn-Narnia seems like a really nice place.

For one thing: talking animals
For two things: Castles-cool ones
For three things:Aslan
For four things: If you're human-you're basically king
For five things: No pesky internet classes

Right now I should be working on a massive project for my internet communications class (the biggest regret of my schedule). We're supposed to be designing an entire website. It could be fun-right? Wrong! We have to deal with the boring, hard stuff called HTML. HTML-hypertext markup language-is one persnickety old wench that doesn't work right if you forget a semicolon out of 1,000 lines of code. The fact that so much code goes into the simplest website makes my brain angry. Angry because humans seem to make everything so stinkin complex. Let's take medical/anatomy terms.

For example: "The major neuroendocrine control centre of malacostracans is the X-organ–sinus-gland complex, which lies in the eyestalk or in an equivalent part of the head in which the eyes are sessile."

Who comes up with stuff: robots? Nancy Pelosi? Lex Luthor?

Why can't you just name stuff short names, like: the foop, the zoob, the yaak, the nama, the Gooop. That would make the world a whole lot easier to understand. Life is short-we don't need long terms.

Back to Narnia and its lack of the internet (and modern technology)-yes, technology was supposed to make our lives easier (and yes I know without the internet and technology I would not be typing this right now), but it just gives us a chance to be busier. Now that we can see the world wide web on our cell phones-big corporations that use employees as fine cutlery to grab their food (money), can now keep feeding whenever they feel like and keep those utensils a workin'.

We love to be busy-and our bosses expect us to love it so much-we buy a pull-out mattress for our office. Sure-you have a nice window view of the city, but that doesn't come in handy when you're trying to get a nice sleep.

Narnia looks so pristine, so untouched, so peaceful. I can imagine myself relaxing in the castle tower having a deep theological discussion with a burmese python-actually, I hate pythons, perhaps my st. bernard Sweet Pea.

Which is why I want to be a writer. It is an occupation that can be done from anywhere: home, plane, train, river side, in a boat, in a mote, wearing a coat. By the shore, at the store, standing in an open door. Eating apples, drinking snapple, listening to old women cackle. Okay, maybe I'm getting out of hand-but a writer's life looks simplistic-no cubicles, no cruel upper management, no board meetings-just you, a piece of paper and your creativity.

And a castle in Narnia would be the perfect place for a masterpiece.

This weekend, as every Harding student and alumnus (what a wierd word for a graduate) knows, was Homecoming. It was a happy scene of parents mingling with students on the sidewalks, high school-ers oggling the campus and football players getting ready for the best audience turn-out of the year (people won't leave after half-time, woo-hoo!). Oh, yeah, and it was also Halloween. So the students who are...more inclined in letting their more...expressive...sides show were using the holiday as another excuse to break out their sparkly capes, wear Death Eater-like hoods, and paint their faces like Tim Burton characters (although usually they don't really need an excuse-they were just able to blend in better with the little kids that dressed up like pirates). But the best part of the weekend, besides my wonderful Aunt and Uncle taking me out to dinner three days in a row!, was the homecoming musical-which was Scrooge (Christmas Carol with songs).

I would have to say that the Christmas Carol is one of those great holiday tales that never gets old, kinda like A Christmas Story, It's a Wonderful Life and any of those clay-mation old school films. I mean Scrooge has everything-romance, heart-break, suspence, horror, excitment, danceing, time-traveling,a quick peak into the after-life, a moral undermeaning of redemption and good Christmas spirit, with an unusually happy little boy with a limp leg that gets dished the corniest line in the play. What more could you want?

And boy, I didn't think first coming here, but Harding does know how to put on a show.

My favorite part in the Scrooge epic is the final ghost that comes to visit Scrooge when the clock strikes three. The ghost is silent, creepy, and makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end whenever he decides to pop out of nowhere. Not only does he take Scrooge and the audience to the grave of poor Timy Tim, but also to Scrooge's grave and later to Hell it-self. However, I think even the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come pales (no pun intended) in comparrison to Jacob Marley, who was played by my old speech teacher Mr. Ritchie. Marley taunts Scrooge a bit, rattling his chains, moving a few objects, moaning through the air and making Scrooge's door-knocker do funny tricks. Then he appears, covered in chains and tries to engage in some friendly small talk about life, death, and taxes.

Oh, and he warns Scrooge about three ghosts that will come to show him the errors of his way.

Whoever came up with the idea of having Scrooge haunted by three ghosts and being scared into redemption must of have been one of those hellfire and brimstone kind of preachers-the ones that had their index finger firmly planted in a point and wore the constant expression of extreme constipation. But, I guess sometimes we need a finger jabbed our way and someone to yell at us to get our attention.

All in all, Scrooge becomes a nice guy and likes Christmas and we never know if Tiny Tim really dies or not.

Even though the Christmas Carol is a fictional-God does love to work in threes-He is a Trinity, which makes Him so much more interesting.

Hm. Just some thoughts running through my head.

Hey guys, so I know I haven't been posting a lot lately, but...too bad. I am a college student devoted to his studies and I need my down time away from the technological world (you can thank my internet communications class for that). Anywho, here's another quick post. I am analyzing my own writing for my advnaced comp. class and I found this awesome quote by strunk and white, the masterminds behind...drum roll...THE ELEMENTS OF STYLE. And as I was drinking from their spring of writing genius, I discovered a few quotes.

Here they are...

"There is no satisfactory explanation to style, no infallible guide to good writing, no assurance that a person who thinks clearly will be able to write clearly, no key that unlocks the door, no inflexible rule by which writers may shape their course. Writers will often find themselves steering by stars that are disturbingly in motion."
...Which is why I love writing.

And another cool quote I read: "Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar."

Alright-so right now I am on a Donald Miller kick since I am doing this book review for Searching for God Knows What. Side Note: When I become an author, I hope people will one day say "so right now I am on this J.M. Adkison kick..."(that would be amazing). Anywho, I decided to put the review on my blog since I haven't been updating it much-but if you are going to read this-please read it at thelink.harding.edu that way I can get a lot of hits.

So here is the review, titled: Breaking Jesus out of the formula.


“Sometimes I feel as though I were born in a circus, come out of my mother’s womb like a man from a cannon, pitched toward the ceiling of the tent, all the doctors and nurses clapping in delight from the grandstands…My body falls back toward earth, the ground coming up quick, the center ring growing enormous beneath my falling weight. And this is precisely when it occurs to me that there is no net. As I wonder…Who is going to rescue me?”

And thus begins Donald Miller’s “Searching for God Knows What,” a radical book on freeing Jesus from a formulaic, rigid religion and the box we tend to put him in.
Donald Miller is not your average Christian author. In fact, Miller is about as odd and crazy-minded as writers come. This is not your grandmother’s sort of literature, unless your grandmother happens to be a bearded lady who can identify with Miller’s carnival-style parables. His first novel “Prayer and the Art of Volkswagen Maintenance”, came out in 2000, but was met with little success. Lucky for him, his next novel, “Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality”, launched him into the New York Times best-seller list, which put him on the express lane out of anonymity. His next book to hit the scene was “Searching for God Knows What,” released in 2004.

Many may be wondering why someone would be writing a review for a book that came out five years ago, and that someone would respond that he was writing this review because not enough people know about it. “Searching for God Knows What” dares to ask the questions: What if the deepest longings of your heart were there for a reason? What if the Gospel of Jesus was not “safe” at all, but full of intrigue, passion−and romance? Not only does Miller try to take Jesus out of the box, he drenches the box in gasoline and lights it on fire afterwards.

Now what exactly is this “box”? The “box” is a set of limitations or formulas humans bind God to in order to make him fit comfortably in our nicely organized, daily scheduled lives. The box can be a formula that goes like this: a person struggles with life, some sort of calamity happens in this person’s life, and that calamity brings this person to Jesus. The end result is this person living happily ever after. It is the idea that coming to Christ is a step-by-step process taken out of the self-help book known as the Bible.

Yet, we all know life is actually a large collection of unknown variables waiting to disrupt perfectly planned schedules and as Miller so eloquently puts it: “It seems if there were a formula to fix life, Jesus would have told us what it was.”

Miller is in no sense attacking the institution of the church or Christianity. He is trying to get Christians to stop viewing God as a cuddly Santa Clause they can fit into their daily planners and see Him as an unpredictable being who wants his children to live outside their comfort boxes.

“I did’t have a relationship with God; I had a relationship with a system of simple ideas, certain prejudices, and a feeling that I and people who thought as I thought were right,” he says on page 31.

To say that Miller’s writing is “whimsical” would be nothing short of an under-statement. He writes with a dry sense of humor that is skilled in sending the reader into hysterics, making the reading both entertaining and enthralling. His ideas are quirky and very original, for example chapter seven is titled “Adam, Eve, and the Alien: How the Fall Makes You Feel” and chapter 14 is “The Gospel of Jesus: Why William Shakespeare Was a Prophet.”

One of the most attractive aspects to his writing is the simple fact Miller seems to write whatever pops into his head, and somehow brings these thoughts together to create a new way of looking at Christianity through an entirely different lens. However, this lens can often turn into a mind-whirling kaleidoscope as Miller is apt to lose you somewhere along his train of thought. Sometimes his ideas are so strange and random, you have trouble connecting the dots.

Yet, what really adds to the quality of this book is the genuineness the reader can sense in Miller’s writing. He does not pretend to be a all-knowing guru with the secrets to following God, he never fails to let Jesus have the lime light. He is just one eccentric man amongst a sea of people trying their hardest not to be eccentric, trying to make heads and tails of this art form called Christianity.

Alright-quickest blog ever-I know. But I am doing this book review for one of Donald Miller's books (don't know who he is? Then learn!) and I found this awesome quote:

"The most difficult lie I ever contended with is this: Life is a story about me."
-Donald Miller

Think about it.