On Desserts, and the Lack Thereof

I think for me, the hardest part of Lent--harder than not posting stupid trivialities to Facebook, or pwning n00bs in Medal of Duty: Modern Battlefield Assault--is the constant feeling of hunger. Not from fasting, or lack of food, or lack of meat. Simply from the lack of sweets. My body seems to have some mechanism, in which I don't actually feel satisfied until I've had dessert. It doesn't have to be much. But the sugar somehow tells my brain, "ok, you're done eating now." Without that trigger, I never feel satisfied, no matter how full I get.

The mechanism for this was always clear to me, as a child, and yet my mother, for some reason, needed to be schooled in the basic principles. I clearly remember one dinnertime meal when I informed her that-after having finished the meat or pasta or whatever we were having, and leaving the vegetables untouched--I was completely stuffed, and couldn't possibly eat another bite. Of course, it was entirely coincidental that I happened to fill up right before getting to my veggies.

Shortly afterwards, the ice cream came out for those good boy and girl who had cleaned their plates. I informed my mother of me desire for ice cream, too. "But how can you have any ice cream when you're so completely stuffed full?"

She thought she had me, but that was really only a sign of her ignorance. I, of course, being the good, charitable little boy that I was, corrected her error, and informed her about the basic anatomical lesson that all little boys who wanted dessert but not vegetables knew. "My dinner pipe is full, but my dessert pipe is still empty." I mean, duh. How could she not know about the different pipes where food was stored? How could she not know that dessert went into a different bodily compartment than dinner?

Sheesh.

So for Lent...

Giving up the usuals:

• Sweets
• Hot Chocolate
• Soda
• Alcohol
• Vidjamagames (including especially Bejeweled for iPhone)
• The Internet

Extra practices:

• Reading; set aside time for both spiritual reading and fun reading each day
• Writing; set aside time for writing (blogging or fiction) whenever possible
• Floss every day
• Daily rosary

Aside from that, I'm not sure what else to do. Ideally, Lent ought to be used to deepen the practice of one's faith. Last year, I got into the habit of daily mass (which, amazingly, I've kept up for a whole year). I'm not sure how to build on that. I suppose I could get up a half-hour earlier and join the Norbertines for morning prayer, but I'm reluctant to do that because I'd either have to go to bed earlier, which would cut into wifey time (as it is, we only have about an hour together after Damien goes to bed), or I'd be even more tired at work. Maybe I'll save morning prayer for Fridays only.

I've never been one for New Year's resolutions, mainly because I do that during Lent. I also try to use this time to focus on one aspect of life where I need personal improvement. In past years, I've focused on driving and given up changing lanes and speeding. There was also that one year where I resolved to be more patient and trusting of God's providence, and we all know how that ended, even if I still don't manage to live by the lessons I learned. What? I've never told that story on this blog? Well, remind me to tell it sometime.

This year, I'd like to focus on coming out of my shell, being more involved and helpful to others, and not just be such a flaming huge introvert. How bad my introverted tendencies are was driven home last week when, as I was leaving the parking lot after morning mass, I noticed that another car had a flat tire. I was about five blocks away before I realized that the proper response would have been to, y'know, wait for the person to tell him his tire was flat (it was the passenger-side, rear, so it would be unlikely he'd know) and offer to help change it, or at the very least leave a note so he wouldn't drive away. When I got to work, all I could imagine was hearing an announcement the next day about some poor parishioner who died in a fiery auto crash when his tire shredded on the highway at 80 mph, and oh, if only he could have known his tire was flat! But, of course, for me, it's a toss up between the guilt of walking away from someone in need and, y'know, talking to someone I don't know. Actually, it's not a toss up. I would much prefer just to walk away. Which, perhaps, is a problem that ought to be worked on.

Unfortunately, "be less shy" doesn't exactly meet Fr. Philip's criteria of a good resolution, that it must be specific, practical, and renewable. Choosing a specific goal would seem to be in order. I think, though, that God, in his infinite patience and providence, already has a goal in mind. I'm getting faint hints that maybe I ought to involve myself more in parish life.

Being friends with the priests of the parish is always a good idea. I'm reminded of my parents and Fr. McHugh, who, if he saw the trademark two-tone blue van, would sometimes wait around for Mass to let out so he could invite us up to his apartment for tea. That kind of fraternity with priests is a wonderful thing for children, especially boys, to grow up with, and I'd love for Damien and Anthony to be familiar with the priests of their parish.

(While we're on the topic, I've also always been envious of my mother's ability to start a conversation with anyone, anywhere, at any time. That is, alas, an ability I do not have. My attempts at engaging strangers usually end up with stupid chit chat and awkward pauses.)

But anyways, faint hints. At the parish ministry fair several months ago, one of the ushers asked if I would be interested in becoming an usher. I said I'd think about it, which was true, but I never acted upon it because that would involve two fears: talking to strangers and telephones. The usher, and Irishman named Dennis, gave the selling points for usherhood: most were Knights of Columbus, and they were all drinking buddies. Last Sunday, the Knights had a booth set up outside church and one of them approached me specifically and asked if I had thought about joining them (why yes, I have, as a matter of fact). He gave me the details of an informational meeting they'd be having soon. At the same mass, Father Philip announced, for the third consecutive week, that the Latin schola would be putting on a concert and they were looking for more singers. After mass, Mrs. Bainbridge, who also sings in the Schola, stopped me to chat, and of course at one point we began talking about the Schola (how did we sound this week?) and mentioned their desperate need of male voices. As if that wasn't enough, after Ash Wednesday mass, instead of rushing back to my car, I stopped to check out the booth of Crusade Catholic Stores, which was selling books. They had two I wanted, Light of the World, and Unplanned. While waiting to buy them, I ended up chatting with the lady next to me, who, as it turns out, sings in the Schola. And to top it off, the Schola Mistress was right next to my car, and I ended up chatting with her and may or may not have accidentally volunteered to help with their concert. (She actually wanted me in Schola at Sunday mass, but I explained I had a little one, with one on the way, that need supervision.)

So I don't know what any of this means, or where it will lead. I don't know if I'll be an usher, or a Knight, or sing in Schola. I just think that, maybe, I should follow this path that's been laid out before me, hold out my hand for Our Lady to lead me, and see where I end up. That's the great lesson I learned during Lent in Austria and Rome.

But that's another story. Remind me to tell it sometime.

Quaestiones

Question 1: Whether Blogging Is Permissible when One has Given Up the Internet for Lent.

Objection 1. It would seem otherwise, since the blog itself, and the means of posting to it, reside on and require access to the Internet, respectively.

Objection 2. Furthermore, merely writing the blog posts offline in a word processor, then uploading them on Sunday would also violate this resolution, since the essential nature of the promise--to avoid the frivolous use of time on the Internet during Lent--is still broken by spending time on a pursuit that has as its natural end a form of communication that requires the Internet.

On the contrary, blogging is not essentially different from writing for printed media, which is a worthwhile and non-trivial pursuit, and not covered by any promise to give up the Internet for Lent.

I answer that, the vow to give up the Internet during Lent is a shorthand method of stating "giving up frivolous pursuits using the Internet," which the Philosopher surely would have agreed is one of the primary usages of the Internet. However, especially for one who has vowed to spend more time writing during Lent, blogging is not necessarily a frivolous pursuit, so long as care is taken to avoid the Five Lowest Forms. In fact, for one who has promised to spend more time writing, a blog is no different than any other media for the promulgation of the written word.

This simplistic understanding of the prohibition of the use of the Internet during Lent, in fact, stands as an obstacle to one who must write more, especially if his primary word processor is an online application. Clearly, one can promise to write more and also simultaneously not waste time on the Internet.

This is particularly evident for one whose job requires use of the Internet and email. Since his Lentent penance cannot supersede his duty to use the just fruits of the Internet to do his job, it can clearly be seen that giving up the Internet for Lent does not include all uses of the Internet, but merely those that are contrary to productivity.

Reply to Objection 1. While blogging does indeed use the Internet in myriad ways, both as a means of creating the content (form) of the blog post, and of posting the content for others to read (matter), this usage of the Internet can promote a self-betterment and more effective use of time, which is not what is intended to be avoided when one gives up the Internet for Lent.

Reply to Objection 2. That blogging is not essentially different from other forms of the written word seems to lend credence to the idea that blogging is allowed to one who has given up the Internet for Lent. If an act is no different from another act, any prohibitions against the one ought apply to the other, and should the first be acceptable, so ought the second.

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Something Appropriate for the Day.

Good Friday Meditation

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi: miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi: miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi: dona nobis pacem.



Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world; have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world; have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world; grant us peace.

1010b in 101000b.
Inspired by Sister-in-law Katie.

0001. Go to mass at least five times a week.
0010. Say at least a decade of the rosary every day, with Anne Marie.
0011. Write for at least an hour a day.
0100. Read for at least an hour a day.
0101. Cook at least one meal a week.
0110. Clean the kitties' litter boxes at least every other day.
0111. Fold and put away laundry instead of living out of a basket.

1000. Floss every day.
1001. Clean out filing cabinet; file everything from past three years; clean off desk.
1010. Figure out a budget that we can stick to with one income, that includes charitable contributions.