Author Archive for aly hawkinsPage 2 of 46

Thinky Thoughts with Aly: What vs. Why

Published
by
aly hawkins
on 19 August 2007
in faith and theology and philosophy
. 11 Comments

I haven’t been in a writing frame of mind lately, which is a bit unfortunate for one who aspires to make a living doing so at some point in the near future. Editing and writing, I have discovered, use different parts of the brain — or, at least, they use different parts of my brain — and I’ve found that switching between the two is like changing political parties: There’s a lot of paperwork and justification involved. I spend at least eight hours of my day in Editing Brain, and it’s hard to steel myself to fill out the triplicate forms and get my story straight (literally) to put on Writing Brain when I get home.

And also, hanging with my husband while knocking back a bottle of vino is a big distraction. Have I mentioned that he’s my favorite human and that kicking it with him tops just about everything? No? Well, consider that oversight remedied here.

Anyway, it’s been brought to my attention (mostly by said huz) that thinking thinky thoughts and writing about them is part of what keeps me sane, and hey! since we’re all for that, I’m going to try cutting through the mental red tape to put on Writing Brain once a week or so for — tada!: Thinky Thoughts with Aly.

[This is where I insert a disclaimer about my qualifications for thinking and writing about thinky thoughts compared to other authors' credentials, and ask for your patience with my rather elementary approach and tone. Disclaimer ends here.]

For today’s installment, dear reader, I’d like to write about What versus Why. I was actually inspired to think thinky thoughts about What and Why by a book proposal I reviewed this week as part of my editorial duties. (All the editors get together once a week to rip on the ideas of others, which we weren’t man or woman enough to come up with on our own. I love my job!) In the proposal, which was so excellent that I hope we don’t publish it, the author suggests that in this dear old Information Age — borne out of the Age of Reason and accelerated by yummy technology — we try to substitute information (What) for meaning (Why).

Why would we do such a nitwit thing? you ask. (I did, too…and this is where the thinky thoughts come in.) I think we do it because What is easy and Why is hard; because we secretly hope that if we can wrap our brains around all the What in the universe about a Thing, the Why of the Thing will become suddenly obvious and we can dispense with a little thingamajigger called faith (which is the only thing that makes sense of Why).

Here’s a poorly kept secret: I’m a trivia whore. I love to know shit from shinola, and I love even more to tell you the difference. Why? Because information is power. (And who doesn’t love that, can I get an Amen? ) Why does information equal power? Because we’ve predicated our entire society on the faulty premise that the What can save us. Think about the War on Terror. Or consider that the NY Times bestselling “religious” book of the year is based on the idea that we think reality into existence — that the What is the Why. Our sneaky negative thoughts (What) are the reason (Why) we’re in such a fix! (Damn. I wish we’d known this before, say…the effing Holocaust.)

I think you see where I’m headed. Our addiction to What is killing us.

I’m definitely not saying that What isn’t important — I think I may have mentioned that I like information as much as the next gal (and perhaps slightly more). My point is that only Why can make sense of What…not the other way around. To be didactic about it: We can use our What well only when we have a good Why.

Thus concludes the first installment of Thinky Thoughts with Aly.

mommy issues

Published
by
aly hawkins
on 25 July 2007
in life
. 10 Comments

It’s been like 5,000 years since I posted anything, and I’m sorry. Not that your world is bleak and blank without me. I know you have lives and everything. It’s just that this thing is supposed to be a community blog, and I feel a teensy bit guilty for falling down on the job.

Anyway, I noticed something disturbing about myself the last few days: I’m a mommy’s girl. My mom is coming to visit for the weekend (she lives in Indiana), and instead of getting totally amped and letting the rays of my shiny joy light up the atmosphere and warm everyone in my orbit, I’ve been completely cranky the last few days. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why I’ve been such a bitch, and then it occurred to me: I still want my mommy to take care of me. I don’t want to work (even though I love my job), I don’t want to pay the bills, I don’t want to clean the bathroom (I did — you don’t NOT clean the bathroom when your mom’s coming to visit).

In short, I don’t want to be an adult — because, dammit, my mommy’s the adult.

How messed up is that? I’m nearly 32 frickin’ years old! But throw Mom into the mix, and suddenly I’m 10 and want to put the thermometer on the lightbulb to prove I’m sick so Mommy will call my teacher and make homemade chicken soup and move the TV into my bedroom so we can watch Days of Our Lives together while she rubs my head and makes noises of pity and understanding. And then I get miraculously better and we shop.

Can someone say “Codependent”?

Maybe it’s that she lives so far away now. I don’t know. But it’s frightening how quickly I can turn from being a semi-functional adult-type person into a sniveling mess of junk.

Anyone else have mommy issues they’d like to get off their chest?

phreaky phriday: spoilers

Published
by
aly hawkins
on 25 May 2007
in art and culture and phreaky phriday
. 7 Comments

spoilers

Chad, didn’t your mom do this for real after Return of the Jedi?

It’s official.

Published
by
aly hawkins
on 10 May 2007
in church and life
. 19 Comments

Ash has resigned his position as worship leader/tech director at Ventura Missionary Church, effective June 1. It’s exciting and scary and sad and weird. (And complicated.) Your prayers and church jokes are appreciated in advance.

Place matters.

Published
by
aly hawkins
on 27 April 2007
in life
. 12 Comments

I hate moving. I’ll just get that out there so there’s no confusion. I’ve moved over 20 times in my young-ish life (not counting packing up every three months for three years at boarding school, or the come-and-go college thing) and that’s more than enough for anybody, even anybodies who like moving, which I’m pretty sure I was clear that I don’t.

On the other hand, there’s nothing quite as wonderful as finally moving out of [read: escaping] a place you don’t like living, especially if what’s waiting for you on the other end already feels like home. (Aside: Moving also doesn’t suck quite as much when you have good friends who help out — not just with the truck loading and whatnot, but also with the “Here, let me pack up your kitchen. That way you don’t have to evaluate whether or not you should keep the seven-eighths-empty container of chili powder that looks like an abandoned ant farm. I’ll decide, because I can evaluate the chili powder without sentiment or equivocation.” I’ve decided that the next time I move — God grant that it shall be far, far in the future — I’ll have friends pack up my whole house. There are enough pressing decisions to be made in the world without me having to agonize over near-empty spice bottles. Aside ends here.)

Ash and I bought a condo about three years ago, which seemed like an excellent idea at the time. They say that home ownership is the best investment you can make outside of an education, bloo-blee-bloo, and we took the plunge. Newsflash: Home ownership is the best investment you can make if you actually want to live where you buy a house. They neglected to mention this small (yet not insignificant) caveat, and we spent the last three years trying to make the best of living in a condo and a community that just never felt like home. In case you’re wondering, three years is a really, really long time to make the best of anything.

We sold our little place to a guy who seems genuinely excited about it (God bless him), and found a kick-ass little house to rent (God bless Craiglist) with a big back yard, hardwood floors, a separate space for Ash’s studio and Thai, Italian and Texas-style BBQ all within walking distance…not to mention terrific landlords, Marty and Eden, who live on a ranch in Santa Paula with four rodeo horses and 14 (yes, fourteen) rescue dogs.

When Ash and I came to take a look at this place three weeks ago, I walked through the side gate and thought, “Hey, it’s our home.” Being a third culture kid, I’ve maintained for a long time that “home” is people, not a place. But I’m starting to re-evaluate this position — I’m beginning to think that place matters.

This idea is still totally alien to me, but I think there’s something to it. What I’m thinking is that it’s not necessarily specific places — i.e., Wewoka, Oklahoma or Okefenokee, Georgia — it’s the vibe of a place that makes it matter. The values vibe. (Not speaking politically here.) Everybody has something that is really important to them, and if the place they’re livin’ doesn’t let them do that thing with some ease and regularity, it’s never gonna feel like “home.”

Before Ash & I got married, I lived on the Reisser Compound in what is still affectionately known as The Puppy Palace. Long ago, The Palace was Carrie’s playhouse, then a poolside changing area, then Zack’s House of Unspeakable Acts, then the birthplace of a litter of Chelsea the Wonder Dog’s (RIP) puppies, then a storage unit for stage costumes, then my apartment. (Now?? I don’t know. Maybe its original purpose has been revived for Ella.) But as booty as The Palace was, it was home — I could easily and regularly do the things that are important to me: hang out with friends in a beautiful place talking about and doing life, and be creative. And I haven’t had that since.

But…six years later (to the day), I find myself again, finally, “at home” in a place where I can do the things that are important to me — to recap: hang with friends, be creative — with ease and regularity. (And I don’t have to live in a former canine maternity ward to do so. Which is a plus.)

The point of this incredibly over-long post is that I’m grateful. God is good even when things are crap, and I’m glad to have experienced crap if only to recognize this important fact. But man, I’m a fan of blessings…and I can’t wait to share them with you. The side gate’s open. I’ve got fixin’s for s’mores. Bring a beverage. Make yourself at home.