April 27: Bad Mood, Classic Saint Marty, New Cartoon

For various reasons, I'm in a really bad mood this afternoon.  Little things that usually don't bother me are like fingernails on a chalkboard today.  I'm talking little things.  The way people chew food.  Commercials on TV.  The sound of my wife drinking water.

It doesn't help that I'm incredibly tired and have tons of grading to finish.  I'm cranky, so I'm trying to keep my mouth shut.  If I say anything, I will hurt somebody's feelings.  Silence is a better choice.  Silence and work.

Today's Classic Saint Marty comes from the year of A Christmas Carol.  It first aired in 2012.

April 24, 2012:  Poor Excuse, Carrying the World, Free Goose
 
"You'll want all day to-morrow, I suppose?" said Scrooge.

"If quite convenient, Sir."

"It's not convenient," said Scrooge, "and it's not fair.  If I was to stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound?"

The clerk smiled faintly.

"And yet," said Scrooge, "you don't think think me ill-used, when I pay a day's wages for no work."

The clerk observed that it was only once a year.

"A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December!" said Scrooge, buttoning his great-coat to the chin.  "But, I suppose you must have the whole day.  Be here all the earlier next morning!"

This passage is one of the most famous in A Christmas Carol.  It encapsulates Scrooge's incredible ego and greed.  Scrooge literally takes Christmas as a personal affront to himself and his bank account.  If you really want to boil Scrooge's issues down to their core, they all hinge on the fact that he is an incredibly self-centered man.  Christmas takes away money from Scrooge.  Therefore, Christmas is some kind of left-wing conspiracy to bleed him dry.

As a worship leader at church and as a college professor, I deal with a lot of people like Scrooge.  People who seem to think their problems and their lives are of utmost importance to everyone.  They carry the world on their shoulders.  Over the last day or so, I've been navigating a Scrooge situation.  Like Bob Cratchit, I have learned to keep my mouth shut and let the Scrooge in my life vent his particular brand of venom.  It's easier that way.  I have learned that you can't win an argument with a Scrooge.  Scrooges know best.  Always.

That doesn't mean that I agree with my Scrooge.  That means that I'm not going to battle my Scrooge.  I will do things the way I think they should done, no matter what.  I just choose to ignore my Scrooge's rant, the way Bob does in the above passage.  Bob gets to take Christmas day off, and Scrooge gets to browbeat his clerk.  Everybody's happy.

Don't get me wrong.  I can be a Scrooge, wrapping myself up in my own little counting house.  Most human beings have their Scrooge moments.  It's what you do after the Scrooge moment that counts.  I choose to look beyond the narrow limits of my money-changing hole.  I choose to walk along the crowded paths of life, embracing all human sympathy.

Be kind to the Scrooge in your life.  Listen to him.  Let him crab.  Let him bitch.  Let him browbeat you a little.  Be Bob Cratchit.  Show your Scrooge kindness and understanding.  In the end, you may end up with a free goose dinner.

That's what Saint Marty's hoping for.

It's free!

 Confessions of Saint Marty
 

February 20: Old Dog, Project Memoir, Learnt a Lesson

When he agrees to go with the Ghost of Christmas Present, Scrooge makes this little speech:

"Spirit," said Scrooge submissively, "conduct me where you will.  I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working now.  To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it."

Scrooge is the ultimate example of being able to teach an old dog new tricks.  Of course, he has to be scared shitless in order for the lesson to sink in, but he does learn.  That's all that matters.

I'm almost as bad as Scrooge when it comes to accepting change/new things.  It has been one of my most frequent subjects since I started this blog:  change sucks, change is bad, change is a gift from Satan, change is about as comfortable as a rectal exam.  Take your pick. 

I like sameness.  I cherish sameness.  Sameness is a warm shower.  Sameness is Godiva chocolate.  Sameness is God's way of giving you a hug.  If you can't tell, I'm a big fan of sameness.

That being said, I know that many people, including several therapists I've seen, view this attachment to habit as possibly unhealthy.  I've heard the term pathological a couple of times.  Long time disciples of Saint Marty know, however, that every Lent I try to do something that breaks down the walls of my little kingdom of comfort.  A couple years ago, I decided to pray for people who had/have hurt me in some way.  It was an exercise in forgiveness, and it was a bitch.  I grew as a person, let go of some long-held pain.  I changed.  Last Lent, I decided to write a "happy" poem every day, from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday.  That also stretched me as a poet and person.  I tend to be a little on the morose/dark side in my disposition and writing.  Last Lent, I learned that happiness really is a choice.  Even the darkest of times have rays of light.  Last year, I wrote a book of "happy" poems, and I changed.

Just like Scrooge, I have "learnt a lesson" from the Ghosts of Lent Past.  So, where is the Ghost of Lent Present going to lead me this year?  I've been kicking around a few ideas.  Last year, I've invited my disciples to volunteer suggestions, and someone suggested that I give up sarcasm for Lent.  This person pointed out that the word "sarcasm" means "to cut, to rend (flesh)."  While I agree that sarcasm can be harmful when directed toward other people, most of the sarcasm I employ is directed toward myself or Republicans.  Therefore, I will not be giving up sarcasm any time soon (especially during an election year). 

But I have come up with an idea.

Saint Sebastian doesn't look too unhappy

I first started this blog a couple of years ago to focus on the feast days of Catholic saints.  As a child, I was always drawn to these holy women and men who seemed so happy in the most painful of circumstances (torture and terminal illness, that sort of thing).  I wanted that kind of peace in my life.  Looking at hagiography through the ages, in literature and art, I thought I could do something interesting with the saints and the sinners of the ages.  And, by communing with the saints, I could also learn something about the big struggles of my life.  Mental illness.  Sexual addiction.  Family dysfunction.  Suicide.  Spiritual abandonment.  Out of all this mess, my blog, Saint Marty, was born.

This Ash Wednesday, I think the Ghost of Lent Present is leading me back to the roots of this little blog endeavor.  I'm thinking about finally putting all the raw ingredients of my original reflections of the saints into book form.  It will be a memoir about my personal struggles with all of the crap I just mentioned.  I'll tackle bipolar disease, sexual obsession, marital anguish, and spiritual loss.  I'll look through the lens of the saints' lives.  For Lent, I will work on chapters of this memoir, which I'll call, for lack of a better title, Saint Marty.  Each Sunday, I'll post a new chapter, and, hopefully, I'll learn something about myself and my life and God.

That's my idea for this Lent.  I could call it something catchier, like Project Memoir.  Either title would work for me.  Drop me a comment and let me know what you think of this year's Lenten challenge.

If Scrooge can learn a lesson from the ghosts of his life, so can Saint Marty.