Not that this is where anyone who cares gets their U2 news, but just in case:
Along with today's Rolling Stone report that the tour has been
postponed, @U2 can share the following, which comes from a reliable
source:
- Opening night has been moved from March 1st in Miami to March 28th in
Los Angeles
- Most dates that were planned for the month of March are being
rescheduled, some for the fall leg (see the Albany and Toronto rumors
at U2tours.com), which will likely go longer than originally planned to
make up for missed dates in March
- Concerts in Japan and Australia will likely be moved from late this
year to early 2006
- An official announcement of dates may come as soon as January 24
Important: This is all "word on the street" rumor at this point, and
nothing should be taken as official until it's announced by U2.
And finally:
Update: An announcement posted briefly at U2.com mentioned the delay
and had a quote from Paul McGuinness attributing the delay to
scheduling difficulties, with no mention of family illness. The news
item provided the following quote: "We've postponed the announcement
of the tour because the routing is still being worked on. As soon as
we get everything confirmed over the coming weeks, we'll let you
know."
I'd love to go to LA to see them....
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
The Adventure of Living, By Paul Tournier
"'Nostalgia is a temptation for our Churches (one into which they often fall), nostalgia for the first century of our era, or for the twelfth or the sixteenth, or even for the first fifty years of the ecumenical movement!' ... History never repeats itself. We shall only be deluding ourselves if we hope to experience what others have experienced in a different age. The real adventure for us is our own day and age.
Every age is an adventure. Every life is an adventure. Every adventure has its own individuality, which cannot be mixed with any other" (41).
Every age is an adventure. Every life is an adventure. Every adventure has its own individuality, which cannot be mixed with any other" (41).
Anxiety
I'm a somewhat chaotic random personality who is bent more toward the urgent than the important, who is led by inspiration more than structure, who finds time to do all the little things that I love over and against the bigger things that feel hard yet necessary. In other words, I am allergic to organization and duty.
As a kid, my temperament lost my flute twice a month, my purse once a week, and forgot weekly assignment due dates every single week. Serious. I remember distinctly laying in bed at night worried sick that my flute would be gone this time, not willing to tell my mother so that she wouldn't worry with me, literally shaking in my bed and boots.
In the morning, I'd wake with singleminded determination to get that flute. (I loved the black case with the lime green fur inside it as much as the flute.) I'd arrive at school and like a guided missile I'd retrace every step from the day before until I found that flute. I always did find it. I was often late to first period math as a result, which may account for my miserable failure in Algebra II all those years later...
Ironically, I did well in school, earning mostly A's and making both my parents and teachers believe I was a "good student." I've had a surprisingly organized brain for thoughts and ideas. I can usually pull those up a lot faster than I can locate my keys.
But the "era of losing things" (which began in 5th grade and reached its peak of intensity in junior high yet has continued to dog me well into adulthood), of not knowing where my "stuff" was, of arriving to class and not having the current event again for the fifth week running cut a groove into my psyche that I have traveled down thousands of times since.
For the past two years, I've experienced anxiety - the "you need to breathe and do yoga" kind. And now it's generalized to the stupidest things. Last night—case in point.
A little rain never hurt anyone... unless it wakes you up at 3 a.m.
We are now swimming in water here in Ohio. It's starting to look like Minnesota there has been so much melted snow and rain over the last few days. Little lakes in our front yard, side yard and everywhere I look. And unfortunately, at 3 a.m. I realized that there would be a lake in our basement by morning. Now at 3 a.m., who can do anything about it? No one. But I actually stared at my dark ceiling worrying about it, slighlty sick to my stomach, chest constricting my breathing the way asthma used to.
I worried that the rain would mean that our dog would keep peeing in the house. That I'd find that pee with my new slippers and ruin them. That I'd have to go out in the rain to the store to buy more Febreeze. That he'd choose to pee on my theology books or the big Shakespeare volume under the bench. My fantasies ran in a million directions, even went so far as to consider new and better locations the dog could pee. Had I really been on a tear, I could have written some post-it notes and put them in "better pee locations" for Rocky's viewing and peeing pleasure.
As if that weren't enough, I suddenly remembered that the AM Vets (charity) were coming for our used clothing, that the two big bags weren't on the front step and the step would be wet from the rain which meant protecting the bags from water, and collecting the jumble of loose cords and Christmas lights from the same porch so that the AM Vets wouldn't get greedy and take those too... Then I had to consider what conatiners I might have free for all those loose cords and wracked my brain walking in my imagination through a highly cluttered basement, mentally tripping over dress-up clothes and screw drivers.
Then while thinking of charity, I remembered that I was supposed to jumpstart Noah's old car in the rain so that we could give it away too, which would mean getting my clothes and hair wet and possible electrocution. Now electrocution didn't worry me nearly as much as standing in the rain soaking my clothes and hair, not sure if I'd get the yellow end on the right postive or negative part of the battery.... Turning the key and hearing nothing....
This went on and on until I finally just stopped my mind with a mental shout: Shut up!
I started breathing and relaxing my body. I drifted back to sleep.
Today, I am going to face my rainy life at a little slower pace and do a lot of breathing.
As a kid, my temperament lost my flute twice a month, my purse once a week, and forgot weekly assignment due dates every single week. Serious. I remember distinctly laying in bed at night worried sick that my flute would be gone this time, not willing to tell my mother so that she wouldn't worry with me, literally shaking in my bed and boots.
In the morning, I'd wake with singleminded determination to get that flute. (I loved the black case with the lime green fur inside it as much as the flute.) I'd arrive at school and like a guided missile I'd retrace every step from the day before until I found that flute. I always did find it. I was often late to first period math as a result, which may account for my miserable failure in Algebra II all those years later...
Ironically, I did well in school, earning mostly A's and making both my parents and teachers believe I was a "good student." I've had a surprisingly organized brain for thoughts and ideas. I can usually pull those up a lot faster than I can locate my keys.
But the "era of losing things" (which began in 5th grade and reached its peak of intensity in junior high yet has continued to dog me well into adulthood), of not knowing where my "stuff" was, of arriving to class and not having the current event again for the fifth week running cut a groove into my psyche that I have traveled down thousands of times since.
For the past two years, I've experienced anxiety - the "you need to breathe and do yoga" kind. And now it's generalized to the stupidest things. Last night—case in point.
A little rain never hurt anyone... unless it wakes you up at 3 a.m.
We are now swimming in water here in Ohio. It's starting to look like Minnesota there has been so much melted snow and rain over the last few days. Little lakes in our front yard, side yard and everywhere I look. And unfortunately, at 3 a.m. I realized that there would be a lake in our basement by morning. Now at 3 a.m., who can do anything about it? No one. But I actually stared at my dark ceiling worrying about it, slighlty sick to my stomach, chest constricting my breathing the way asthma used to.
I worried that the rain would mean that our dog would keep peeing in the house. That I'd find that pee with my new slippers and ruin them. That I'd have to go out in the rain to the store to buy more Febreeze. That he'd choose to pee on my theology books or the big Shakespeare volume under the bench. My fantasies ran in a million directions, even went so far as to consider new and better locations the dog could pee. Had I really been on a tear, I could have written some post-it notes and put them in "better pee locations" for Rocky's viewing and peeing pleasure.
As if that weren't enough, I suddenly remembered that the AM Vets (charity) were coming for our used clothing, that the two big bags weren't on the front step and the step would be wet from the rain which meant protecting the bags from water, and collecting the jumble of loose cords and Christmas lights from the same porch so that the AM Vets wouldn't get greedy and take those too... Then I had to consider what conatiners I might have free for all those loose cords and wracked my brain walking in my imagination through a highly cluttered basement, mentally tripping over dress-up clothes and screw drivers.
Then while thinking of charity, I remembered that I was supposed to jumpstart Noah's old car in the rain so that we could give it away too, which would mean getting my clothes and hair wet and possible electrocution. Now electrocution didn't worry me nearly as much as standing in the rain soaking my clothes and hair, not sure if I'd get the yellow end on the right postive or negative part of the battery.... Turning the key and hearing nothing....
This went on and on until I finally just stopped my mind with a mental shout: Shut up!
I started breathing and relaxing my body. I drifted back to sleep.
Today, I am going to face my rainy life at a little slower pace and do a lot of breathing.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
U2 "All Because of You" on tonight's Orange Bowl
To redeem the fact that I have to root for USC (being a Bruin, it was a difficult decision, but I can't root for Oklahoma... that's a state I've never even heard of!), U2's new video for "All Because of You" will be aired during halftime.
ALL BECAUSE OF ... ESPN
January 03, 2005
"The video of U2's All Because of You will make its world premiere at
halftime. ABC will air a two-minute version as the backdrop for the
first-half highlights. ESPN's SportsCenter will feature the entire song
played over full game highlights."
(courtesy of Matt McGee and the folks at @u2.com, best fan site on the web)
ALL BECAUSE OF ... ESPN
January 03, 2005
"The video of U2's All Because of You will make its world premiere at
halftime. ABC will air a two-minute version as the backdrop for the
first-half highlights. ESPN's SportsCenter will feature the entire song
played over full game highlights."
(courtesy of Matt McGee and the folks at @u2.com, best fan site on the web)
sTill CraZy in LoVe After aLL TheSe yeaRS!
21 years ago this month, Jon waltzed into my life and has never left. Yesterday, on his day off, he spent all of it moving my two websites to a new server (one isn't even for business; it's just for fun), making phone calls, redesigning my logo, reformatting every single page and template for Brave Writer and never once complained. Did I mention that he's amazing?
Here are some photos taken by our
California Fashion Model Photographer friend: Patricio.
Down by the O-hi-O River.
In our backyard...
Oo la la! (Kids, close your eyes)
Mr. Amazing
Best techie, friend and lover award
Thanks Jon... for everything.
Je t'adore,
Moi
Here are some photos taken by our
California Fashion Model Photographer friend: Patricio.
Down by the O-hi-O River.
In our backyard...
Oo la la! (Kids, close your eyes)
Mr. Amazing
Best techie, friend and lover award
Thanks Jon... for everything.
Je t'adore,
Moi
Monday, January 03, 2005
The Fog of War, I mean, the Teen Years
Jon and I watched “The Fog of War” the other night. Robert McNamara gives an apologetic for his involvement in the US military during WWII all the way to Viet Nam. To say that I felt a distinct chill in the room as I considered the implications of his “lessons of war” when looking at Iraq would be an understatement. Should be required viewing for everyone.
But a more satirical purpose for his lessons of war presented itself to me today: therapy for the parents of teens.
As I wrote down each of McNamara's lessons, I saw an uncanny correspondence to raising teenagers. So I’ve adapted his lessons for what I call “The Fog of the Teen Years: Lessons for Parents of Adolescents.”
So how do you really feel about it, Bob?
Lesson #1
Empathize with the Enemy
Empathize: Walk a mile in their moccasins with their iPods plugged into your ears. I’ve found that the secret to teen thinking lurks in the lyrics to their favorite songs. To gain empathy, one must spend time decoding those lyrics.
So I, I will paint you in silver.
I will wrap you in cold.
I will lift up your voice as I sink.
Your sins into me,
oh, my beautiful one, now
Your sins into me. (AFI, Silver and Cold)
Couldn't be clearer. This teen is singing to his dad's Lexus that he just towed to the body shop after that "unfortunate incident" in the parking lot at the Metallica concert, right?
Lesson #2
Rationality will not save us.
As Dr. Michael Bradley says in his excellent teen survival guide Yes, Your Teen is Crazy, teens are brain damaged. Typical parental unit comments like “Check the oil” and "Drive carefully" are utterly pointless.
Instead, invest in a triple A card and a cell phone. (Oh, and three sets of keys... don't ask me how I know that's important...)
Lesson #3
There’s something beyond one’s self.
There is? Oh, wait. The Internet, that's right. DSL for every teen.
Lesson #4
Maximize Efficiency
Which of course means let them launder darks and whites together. Strip the sheets off their beds when they happen to have rolled out of them at 3 p.m. in the afternoon. Remake the bed at about 1 a.m. since they are sure to be elsewhere at that hour.
Lesson #5
Proportionality should be a guideline
So if he decides to grow his hair halfway down his back, remember that’s better than growing it as long as Cher’s. If she pierces her ears all the way up both sides and adds an eyebrow ring, at least she hasn’t succumbed to the pressure to pierce "hidden parts." He may get a speeding ticket, but hey, he's not in prison!
Lessons 6 through 11 later.
But a more satirical purpose for his lessons of war presented itself to me today: therapy for the parents of teens.
As I wrote down each of McNamara's lessons, I saw an uncanny correspondence to raising teenagers. So I’ve adapted his lessons for what I call “The Fog of the Teen Years: Lessons for Parents of Adolescents.”
So how do you really feel about it, Bob?
Lesson #1
Empathize with the Enemy
Empathize: Walk a mile in their moccasins with their iPods plugged into your ears. I’ve found that the secret to teen thinking lurks in the lyrics to their favorite songs. To gain empathy, one must spend time decoding those lyrics.
So I, I will paint you in silver.
I will wrap you in cold.
I will lift up your voice as I sink.
Your sins into me,
oh, my beautiful one, now
Your sins into me. (AFI, Silver and Cold)
Couldn't be clearer. This teen is singing to his dad's Lexus that he just towed to the body shop after that "unfortunate incident" in the parking lot at the Metallica concert, right?
Lesson #2
Rationality will not save us.
As Dr. Michael Bradley says in his excellent teen survival guide Yes, Your Teen is Crazy, teens are brain damaged. Typical parental unit comments like “Check the oil” and "Drive carefully" are utterly pointless.
Instead, invest in a triple A card and a cell phone. (Oh, and three sets of keys... don't ask me how I know that's important...)
Lesson #3
There’s something beyond one’s self.
There is? Oh, wait. The Internet, that's right. DSL for every teen.
Lesson #4
Maximize Efficiency
Which of course means let them launder darks and whites together. Strip the sheets off their beds when they happen to have rolled out of them at 3 p.m. in the afternoon. Remake the bed at about 1 a.m. since they are sure to be elsewhere at that hour.
Lesson #5
Proportionality should be a guideline
So if he decides to grow his hair halfway down his back, remember that’s better than growing it as long as Cher’s. If she pierces her ears all the way up both sides and adds an eyebrow ring, at least she hasn’t succumbed to the pressure to pierce "hidden parts." He may get a speeding ticket, but hey, he's not in prison!
Lessons 6 through 11 later.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
The Spiral Staircase, By Karen Armstrong
Karen Armstrong is a well-known theologian and author of best selling books like A History of God. The Spiral Staircase is her personal story.
The following passages are my underlines in the first part of the book. I found so many of her experiences resonating with my own and then others, intriguingly different. I'm always amazed at the complexity that is a part of the spiritual journey.
On the whys of leaving the convent
"I mourned the loss of an ideal and the absence of dedication from my new life, and I also had a nagging suspicion that if only I had tried just a little bit harder, I would not have to leave" (6).
"I had not left the convent because we had to do public penance but because I failed to find God and had never come within shouting distance of that complete self-surrender which, the great spiritual writers declared, was essential for those who wished to enter the divine presence" (9).
On praying daily
"For several hours a day on every single day of the year, I had to confront and experience my abject failure. In other ways my mind was capable and even gifted, but it seemed allergic to God" (42).
"I would sometimes wonder whether it wasn't a bit like the emperor's new clothes: nobody ever experienced God but nobody dared admit it. And then I would mentally shake myself. How could God reveal himself to a nun who harbored these shocking doubts?" (44)
"Our whole existence had had God as its pivotal point. The silence of our days had been designed to enable us to listen to him. But he had never spoken to me" (39).
On leaving the religious life
"Beliefs and principles that I had taken so completely for granted that they seemed part of my very being now appeared strangely abstract and remote" (16).
"One of the chief effects of my education so far had been an acute consciousness of everything that I did not know" (16).
On abusing your mind
"It seemed that I could no longer operate as an intellectual free agent. You can probably abuse your mind and do it irrevocable harm, just as you can damage your body by feeding it the wrong kind of food, depriving it of exercise, or forcing your limbs into a constricting straightjacket. My brain had been bound as tightly as the feet of a Chinese woman, and I had read that when the bandages were taken off, the pain was excruciating" (39).
Isn't it remarkable to look into another person's experience from a different world, culture and time and see your own experience mirrored within it? And at the points of disconnect, it is still something to behold an honest confession of how life was experienced for someone else that challenges my presuppositions about how it ought to work.
The following passages are my underlines in the first part of the book. I found so many of her experiences resonating with my own and then others, intriguingly different. I'm always amazed at the complexity that is a part of the spiritual journey.
On the whys of leaving the convent
"I mourned the loss of an ideal and the absence of dedication from my new life, and I also had a nagging suspicion that if only I had tried just a little bit harder, I would not have to leave" (6).
"I had not left the convent because we had to do public penance but because I failed to find God and had never come within shouting distance of that complete self-surrender which, the great spiritual writers declared, was essential for those who wished to enter the divine presence" (9).
On praying daily
"For several hours a day on every single day of the year, I had to confront and experience my abject failure. In other ways my mind was capable and even gifted, but it seemed allergic to God" (42).
"I would sometimes wonder whether it wasn't a bit like the emperor's new clothes: nobody ever experienced God but nobody dared admit it. And then I would mentally shake myself. How could God reveal himself to a nun who harbored these shocking doubts?" (44)
"Our whole existence had had God as its pivotal point. The silence of our days had been designed to enable us to listen to him. But he had never spoken to me" (39).
On leaving the religious life
"Beliefs and principles that I had taken so completely for granted that they seemed part of my very being now appeared strangely abstract and remote" (16).
"One of the chief effects of my education so far had been an acute consciousness of everything that I did not know" (16).
On abusing your mind
"It seemed that I could no longer operate as an intellectual free agent. You can probably abuse your mind and do it irrevocable harm, just as you can damage your body by feeding it the wrong kind of food, depriving it of exercise, or forcing your limbs into a constricting straightjacket. My brain had been bound as tightly as the feet of a Chinese woman, and I had read that when the bandages were taken off, the pain was excruciating" (39).
Isn't it remarkable to look into another person's experience from a different world, culture and time and see your own experience mirrored within it? And at the points of disconnect, it is still something to behold an honest confession of how life was experienced for someone else that challenges my presuppositions about how it ought to work.
The Journey, By Mary Oliver
Image courtesy of photo.net
(http://photo.net/photodb/photo?photo_id=2958372)
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Saturday, January 01, 2005
2005: Looking forward to...
U2's world tour
Woo-hoo!! Hope to see them at least twice—once with family and once with two U2 groupies. (Love you, Fellowship of the Toe Ring).
Trip to Italy
Our family is traveling to Italia to see my very hip aunt and uncle and their two kids, and to eat gellato. Very good gellato in Italy.
Society of Biblical Literature Eastern Conference
My first opportunity to see what academics do with all those papers they write. I may or may not present a paper (have been invited to) depending on my work load. But I'm looking forward to going no matter what.
The Launch of the Brave Writer Lifestyle
I've revamped my business and anticipate seeing more moms helped with making writing a natural part of homeschool.
Repainting our Bedroom
I will fight, tackle and conquer the boudoir aka "the Goat Sacrifice Room." Eighteen months ago I made the ill-advised decision to paint the back wall of the room red. I tried out various reds on the walls in various lightings before deciding on the "perfect" red... which turned out to be about as romantic as a barn door or strip mall Chinese restaurant.
Then as if the walls knew how scary they were, the paint literally began to bubble and peel in entire sheets right off the wall leaving behind spidery splatches of red. Definitely blood splatter—like some Old Testament priest's artwork. Of course as I tried to remove the rest of the paint, the wall came with it and now it's a big blotchy mess of spackle and spidery red lines.
What will you do this year?
Woo-hoo!! Hope to see them at least twice—once with family and once with two U2 groupies. (Love you, Fellowship of the Toe Ring).
Trip to Italy
Our family is traveling to Italia to see my very hip aunt and uncle and their two kids, and to eat gellato. Very good gellato in Italy.
Society of Biblical Literature Eastern Conference
My first opportunity to see what academics do with all those papers they write. I may or may not present a paper (have been invited to) depending on my work load. But I'm looking forward to going no matter what.
The Launch of the Brave Writer Lifestyle
I've revamped my business and anticipate seeing more moms helped with making writing a natural part of homeschool.
Repainting our Bedroom
I will fight, tackle and conquer the boudoir aka "the Goat Sacrifice Room." Eighteen months ago I made the ill-advised decision to paint the back wall of the room red. I tried out various reds on the walls in various lightings before deciding on the "perfect" red... which turned out to be about as romantic as a barn door or strip mall Chinese restaurant.
Then as if the walls knew how scary they were, the paint literally began to bubble and peel in entire sheets right off the wall leaving behind spidery splatches of red. Definitely blood splatter—like some Old Testament priest's artwork. Of course as I tried to remove the rest of the paint, the wall came with it and now it's a big blotchy mess of spackle and spidery red lines.
What will you do this year?
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