Pan-Shaped Soul Cakes

I have no affiliation to the site, but I just discovered SoulPancake. Despite the meliorative connotation that I think the word 'discovered' has, I haven't actually looked at it too much just yet and don't know if it's any good. I do love The Office though, and Rainn Wilson by affiliation, who helped create the website. He introduces it by saying:

"I am sick of spirituality being airy-fairy, hippy-dippy, and precious. I want to have a debate about life's big questions. I want to de-lamify talking about God and religion. SoulPancake is where spirituality and creativity meet."

I like the idea, though I've never enjoyed arguing or debating on the interweb. It's just not a good idea. There's a variety of terrible, kind of funny or introspective metaphors I could use to describe that whole process, but I'll stick with "I've never enjoyed arguing or debating on the interweb."

Despite that, it does pose a couple really interesting 'challenges' on the first page, such as: Write down your age. Use that many words to sum up your life so far. That sounds a bit more constructive, and I really like the idea. Without thinking too much about it, I'm 25 and I'll say:

"I try to live life the way I want to. It's been hard discovering what that means, but I think I'm on the right track."

There're an awful lot of questions though, and you can chew on 'em here. A couple are definitely loaded, like If there's a God, why would he have created atheists?, which usually turn me off. Not because I hate to debate that kind of thing, I don't at all, but because the dialogue is just sure to degrade into something I'd read on a pundit forum. It's nice to find something on the internet that makes you think though, and so I'll bookmark it if only for that. I don't think much when I'm here. Seriously.

Ten Digits

I don't know very much about toes. I'm not an orthopedist, and I don't really have any interest in becoming one, so the subject of toes is one that is mostly a guessing game.

Thanks my High School Anatomy class, I know that the bones are called phalanges and are attached to the metatarsals. I'm assuming as far as bones go, they don't produce as much blood as something like a femur or shin bone, if only because of their comparative size. That being said, if you ever have to use parts of a human skeleton as a weapon, pick one of those over a phalange. I wouldn't expect a horrific scenario like that to occur any time soon, but in seems to come up every now and then in the movies.

A lot of people seem to think the pinky toe is useless. I would agree, but if you compare the importance of the pinky toe to something like your middle toes, I think the scale tips toward the little guy. He (or she) is doing basically the same thing as the big toe as far as balance goes, and really you could just lump those other three in the middle together. It deserves a better reputation, in my opinion.

I've also been told that if your second toe is larger than your big toe (they're next to each other), you're going to go insane at some point. I heard that when I was around 13, so I've been watching growth since then. It's just about even, so I'm a potential powder keg of madness. Potentially. But really, who isn't?

First Set From Japan

A few photos from Japan; the album is at Picasa.

Scars to the Right

My right arm seems to be a scar magnet. That could be a band name.

The one that I remember as being my first is on my right thumb. I actually have 2, but this one is pretty significant. I got it when I was trying to open a can of lemonade with a can opener. That doesn't sound dangerous, but I was probably 11 at the time and the can wasn't meant for a can opener (it had an easy-open lid) so the opener slipped and nearly took off my thumb. Good times. I think my mom was 3 houses down playing Bunco at the time, and I remember they told me to lift my hand up. Obviously, for the blood, but I thought it was so God could take care of it. I also swore that it just needed a band-aid at the time. They must have had a temporary guy working there though, because the stitching was less than perfect. It doesn't look horrific, but it could have been better.

The one just to the left of that is from a tuna can. You would think I'd have learned my lesson, but in university I was on the phone and talking to my friend about how dangerous opening this can of tuna was with a boyscout can opener. "The old kind, that require you to literally rip the metal off of the top." As I said that, the can lid caught me and I got a pretty deep gash. It wasn't horrific, and I didn't even think about a hospital, but the scar's there if you look.

The third, though second chronologically, is a relatively huge line on my right arm. In high school, I had it in my head that I was going to join the football team. I was the quintessential geek in middle school: fat, acne, poor posture and footing, an unnatural and inhuman love for all things sci-fi and similarly embarrassing things. I eventually came to the conclusion that things didn't work out the way the Disney Channel told me they did. The nerd didn't win the class election (I ran for Vice President), people don't regret how they treat you, and similarly heartbreaking situations. One day I turned on MTV and noticed that it was a little different from all that.

So I had joined football. I had no idea what I was doing, I had never seen a game before, and went for the linebacker position of all things. I did surprisingly well for such a novice, mostly because I could run fast enough and had little apprehension for throwing myself at things. I still don't, for the most part.

In the end though, there was a guy that was just too big for me. I ran as hard as I could, I knew he was getting the ball, and just jumped at him. We collided, he didn't budge, my foot hit the ground and I slammed him forward. I got him down, but not before his helmet took out my right arm. I ended up with a compound fracture, and a lot of surprised looking nurses. Surprised because I shouldn't have had feeling in my right arm based on the break (the radius has a pretty significant nerve running through it). So I wore a giant cast for a while and failed an English test (I tried writing with my left hand) the next day.

The last, maybe temporary, scar I have on a knuckle. I got in Tokyo over New Year's. I don't know how.

I was a bit depressed about all these physical disformities for a while. I'd see them and feel bad, as you do, but eventually I started seeing myself as someone who's just prone to injury. Haphazard and reckless, good with the bad and all that.

In Japan alone, I've fractured my right arm (for the third time) by falling down some wet stairs, broken a left rib by slamming into a railing, and been hit by a car (just scratches on that one, albeit deep). It happens. I'm resigned to my history and my fate as the descendent of a brutish, gung ho people of northern Europe who worshipped the ursine and threw themselves at things.

Although, I do walk slower when it rains.