Santa didn’t make it this year — but he was here anyway…
Christmas day is over, 2009. It’s very late at night, and as I went to put the kids to bed, I saw the ribbon that is tied at the top of the stairs as an early morning barricade, hanging from a single knot, having done it’s job and been partially removed so kids could come downstairs.
For years, ever since our kids could walk, Santa has been the secret worker of miracles who tied that ribbon, ever so quietly, at the top of the stairs. That giant, bright red bow was always the first thing the kids would see when they woke up — a promise from a very wonderful person that not only had he been there and yes indeed it is Christmas!, but that they should stay where they were until mom and dad appear to bring them downstairs. That bow, more than anything else, means Santa to me.
When I was a young child — perhaps five or six — my brother decided to set me straight on Christmas. I remember it the way you might remember the details of a car accident. Being an ancient seven years older than I, he called me to my parents bedroom one day while the folks were at work, and sitting on the corner of their bed, he informed me of facts I won’t discuss here. My sister had half-heartedly tried to stop him, and couldn’t believe he was doing it — but he did it anyway, and I was hurt by that. To this day, I do consider it a selfish act, and I don’t know why my childhood had to be cut off like that at a whim. I can still remember the shock, and the hurt. To this day. I’m pretty confident that he didn’t mean to do something so severe. But he did. Right through my heart.
I didn’t realize until I was very much older that my parents, upon discovering what he’d done — made a rule that as long as I wanted to hang stockings, we’d do the whole thing. Every year, I’d be asked — well into my teens — and every year I’d just say “Sure, why not?” … not realizing that it had become some form of punishment for my other siblings. It wasn’t until I was somewhere around 17 or 18 that I realized it — when my sister yelled, “Oh come ON!” … I was unaware until that moment that I was a burden on their Christmas. I never wanted to do stockings again after that — or much else regarding hope, innocence, childhood, or imagination that involved trust.
So, when my kids were born, and Santa started visiting our house — I for one, was surprised to be ecstatic to have him arrive. What a joy to have his footprints in our fireplace (literally, one year, it would seem), to see the eaten cookies, to find scraps of eaten carrots that had fallen from the roof and onto the lawn. How great to just know that if my kids asked for something specifically from Santa — it was all but guaranteed to be delivered. The ride has been wonderful, like sitting on top of a bag of toys, flying through the sky, fearless and open-heartedly embracing the dangerous lighting bolt called Joy.
But this is the year. The one in which the question has been asked in earnest, and the explanations were given. You do it to show that you can be trusted, because it’s time — but you don’t want to do it, I assure you. Somewhere, at the edge of my imaginations, on a snowy border between me and the fantastic — I thought a gate was gently closing again… but this time, I was happy to find out it hasn’t — this time, I think I finally got it.
As I reached up and untied the ribbon, which is now just a ribbon again — I realized that I’d been given a wonderful gift … a joy to celebrate the arrival of such a great person for so many years; such a member of the family, such a person of Love. I realized that while I have been forced this year to take the training wheels off the fantastic notions that swirl around Christmas, I and my family are beginning a more significant journey together regarding the true gifts of Christmas, the truly miraculous Person involved, the most wonderful Friend who will not leave or fade away.
In life, we are all so desperate to grow up; that is, of course, until we’re old enough to be desperate to regain our youth. Things happen to shatter our innocence, and things happen to regain it … but through it all, one thing holds constant for everyone, belief or not — we want to know.
In walking through these years with Santa, and sharing the Wonder and the Joy with my children, a part of me that had died too soon was resurrected — and I understood, in the smallest ways, what it means to be whole again in places I thought I’d lost. I cherish the time I’ve had in the snow with that wonderful man … and I cherish the fact that God made it possible for me to have that piece of Joy for so many years, to find it again with my kids — delivered by someone as wonderful and real as Santa.
This Christmas, more than any other, I’ve discovered that knowing is a process of becoming more than you thought possible, by accepting more than you thought reasonable. What I know now is a Joy I didn’t know before, and that is an experience that cannot be taken away.
Faith is what Christmas has always been about, and should be about… it is not the process of proving how much we’ve grown by disproving all the delicate dreams of the people around us — instead, it’s the process of showing just how mature we really are in embracing those ideas that are so simple to discredit in a rational world, but so invincible when we let our hearts open just a little.
To know, I first had to believe … but when I couldn’t, I watched the Joy-filled eyes of my children believing, and decided to believe because they did … and when I did that — I tasted true Joy. To realize, in spite of all my jadedness, that I have truly received Joy, well that fills me with Wonder… and those two Gifts are mine to keep… forever — placed in my stocking by Someone who Loves me, a lot.
There are plenty of ways to shatter a dream — plenty of ways to sneer, like an angry 12-year old boy, at the beliefs of others — but at the end of the day, it is only the ones who Believe that get to partake in the Wonder and Joy of Santa… everyone else gets the lump of coal that comes from knowing better.
So many people feel that the process of understanding the Mystical comes first from knowing and then believing, that it is impossible to build a framework of trustworthy predictability if you don’t start with what you know and build outward. But, while that may be true in things of reality, for things of the fantastic, the opposite is true.
In Faith, you must take the child-like step to Believe, even when it makes no sense … then, and only then, you may very well find yourself showered in experiences you wouldn’t trade for the world.
So, for anyone, anywhere, who looks up at the sky in the hopes of glimpsing a face that matters… Merry Christmas. I, for one, can assure you — yes, He does exist…
Why Yoga is not a valid sport (or religion)
I have noticed more people making Yoga and I thought it would be good for me to make sure that people know, especially for Christmas, that it’s not a religion. Then I realized that even more important than that is the people who think that it’s a real sport. So in the name of everything Holy — I’m clarifying that it’s not a sport, and people who worship Yoga should learn something from this too.
1. Children do not do yoga because it is not fun
Admittedly, the absence of fun does qualify yoga for the definition of religion, or religious acts — but as we all know, all sports are based on some childish game taken to an extreme. The English game of Smash-bat, for example, is clearly a children’s game — but when people from Great Britain, like that Beckham guy, who’s married to Sporty Spice, who probably has Yoga daily do it — it is not a game anymore — it is a sport.
Any game can become a sport — but a sport must have, at its roots, children having fun, so that angry men can play it for money later and hate each other on television. Yoga is not fun, and while it does talk about cats and dogs and other animals in strange positions a lot, it is not fun enough for kids. Thus, it is not a sport… and since nobody would ever watch angry men on television competing for yoga points, it is not a sport again.
B. Yoga does not involve bells, chanting, or candles
All good religions, and I’m excluding the stupid ones, have at least one of the big three — bells, chanting, or candles. Granted, yoga can happen while people are chanting, but most people who dance yoga aren’t into chanting while they make it… same goes for candles. I also figure that since people are sticking their feet in their ears for doing yoga, they can’t spare a hand to ring a bell, so there are no bells in Yoga. Since Yoga doesn’t have chanting, bells, or candles — it can’t be a real religion.
Third. I can’t perform Yoga
Since yoga is all bendy and upside down, I can’t do it, I am likely too tall for yoga. I can do religion, I can do games that kids like — which also means that I can do sports — and since I can do those, but I can’t do yoga moves, I can surely tell that yoga isn’t a valid sport or religion.
Conclusion
My sense is that even though yoga is a martial art, and that’s cool — they don’t hit anybody, so that’s stupid — and a little gay. But the bending stuff can be cool, except that it hurts a lot, which makes it stupid again. But mostly, with yoga being just some non-hitting martial art, and not a religion or sport — I won’t think about it on Sundays, either during church (like sports), or after church (like religion). Merry Christmas (to all you non-stupid religioners, and even you yoga users, too).
Signing up for the GMAT — or why I may hate Kaplan
I am studying for the GMAT in preparation for possibly applying to business school.
Since I’m dry on my algebra (a squared minus 2ab plus b squared equals what?!!!) — I figured it would be a very good idea for me to get a tutor… so I chose Kaplan, which is a nationally recognized test prep company. The jury is still out on whether that was a good idea.
Three weeks ago, I paid my fees, which were not insubstantial, to get going on my tutoring. The people at the Kaplan center (in the University District), were nice enough — and they told me to come in for a diagnostic test.
Cool — will do… I drove there in my truck, spent a long time trying to find a hole to cram my long-bed F-150 into around that school — and then went to take the paper test.
Please, sit right here, and fill out this bubble sheet. Awesome — I love me some bubble sheet… just like the old days. Mind you, now the tests are all done by computer — and there are major differences in that … but for the diagnostic, no problem … I’ll just sit here in this room with these other people who are also taking diagnostics.
Like this nice man next to me … who seems to need to talk to his friend in the next cubicle… oh wait — they’re just discussing how to plug in his laptop — using the power port on the other side of my cubicle … no — that’s fine — please run your power line across my feet — that’s ok … oh, am I disturbing you? Making too much quiet and intruding on your talking? Sorry … I’m just taking a TEST!
Get up … head down the hall of the KAPLAN center in Seattle (have I mentioned that this pain is from Kaplan?) — and get to the front desk.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry … but well — there’s two men having a conversation in the test room?“
“What?! Oh, I’m so sorry — we hate when they do that … let’s go up there and make them stop.”
Up we go.
“Excuse me, sir,”, said the nice young lady, “you really can’t talk in here.“
“What? I am with the making of talk? I do not understand why for you are saying this to me. Tell me, other man to whom I have been speaking, what is this she is saying. Here, let me hang my head in shame, we will not speak loudly anymore — only softly.”
She turns to me. “Would you like to finish your test somewhere else?”
“Yes. Yes, I would.”
So, I head to one of the classrooms (I am sorry, my friend — I was just about to use this for my noon-time prayer? Oh. Sure. I’ll keep moving) … get to a room and start working on my test.
In comes a guy to eat his lunch. He’s quiet though — all is well.
Oh — wait — listen to THAT. The giggling, shrieking, laughing, shouting, crazed students who don’t realize other people exist are running up and down the hallways (all 20 of them) playing slap and tickle between the girls and the boys. Isn’t that FUN???? Have I mentioned that this is happening at the KAPLAN center in Seattle?
Well — whatever, it’s only a diagnostic anyway. I did ok for no sleep, this sort of environment, and no prep (which was the sane plan — want a good diagnostic of my “z” game as I called it).
So, I finished that — got my score later (after a few bugs and hiccups on the website that are too boring, but stupid, to describe) — and they planned to get me a tutor. At this point, it’s November 18th or thereabouts.
Having discussed the situation with the tutoring coordinator at the KAPLAN center in Seattle, I indicated that I was likely going to want to take the test in mid-December, so I can take it AGAIN if something goes bad. So, the coordinator is under the impression that I’m gong to take the test in mid-December, remember that.
Well, a week later, I reach out and he’s indicated that the really good tutor might be able to wedge me into her schedule — awesome. She and I connect, and start talking about schedules. She’s under the impression that my schedule is very inflexible, and that I have to start my testing in mid-December — so we better get at it!
But after we talk — we both realize that if I sign up for the Ultimate Practice Test (a full-drill true test experience at the test center, sans real grade), we could see how I’m doing, so I can actually schedule against my required due date, which is January 8, 2010. Mid-December was my home-made “practice test” — but since they have this awesome thing available, the UPT, she and I can coordinate a better schedule. Super!
But she can’t start until December 8, bogus. But that’s ok — it’s worth it, we work it out, super.
Finally, December 8 comes around. She’s great — her name is Cat — really great, loving it. Her first day with me, she tells me that at this late date, I really should sign up for my actual test and the UPT — now! Oh. I was under the impression there was plenty of time… and nobody said anything to me anyway … and hey, aren’t they under the impression that I’m testing mid-December? What?!!!
So I head to www.mba.com (blech) … and rapidly go to sign up on December 9, 2009.
Fill out lots of intrusive information (Are you white? Are you married? How much money do you make?) … and then submit your profile.
“Thank you for submitting your profile. You won’t be able to sign up for two business days while we process your profile… but here’s access to the things you can’t do yet.”
Umm… what? Ok — let me call in.
“Hi, thanks for calling — it’ll take you 20 minutes to answer our questions — why don’t you just go online?”
What?!! I … what? Seriously? Ok — whatever.
Following day (today). Email arrives.
“Thanks for signing up for mba.com … you’re cleared to sign up for tests and stuff.”
Great.
So I head to the website to sign up. Phew. let’s take a look at the first week in January.
“Sorry, everything is just about booked — you can have an 8am test in one of these locations.”
Arg! What? 8am? In the morning?
Ok — well … let’s … oh, what’s this button do? Shows all available for the week? That’s interesting… click.
Mysteriously, a time slot for 12pm on January 8 appears (woot!)
Click THAT baby!
“Thank you for selecting your time. Would you like your scores sent online, or online and by mail? Would you like your reports sent online? Would you like your schedule sent online?”
Hmm… I think I’d most likely like to get the scores online and in the mail… that makes sense. Let me think about these other ones. I guess … oh, I’ll just leave the defaults — that’s ok.
“Thank you for making your selections. Please enter your credit card information.”
Rummage, rummage — where’s my credit card… ahh — ok … type type type … there you go, mba.com.
“Your scheduled appointment isn’t complete yet! Please confirm the information below, check the ‘I accept’ button, and then continue.”
Sure — no problem. I accept. Click.
“I’m sorry — that time is no longer available, please schedule another time.”
What??!!!!! The extra 2 minutes I took to fill out your forms lost my seat? Are you kidding me?
Ok, ok ok … give me 8AM.
Finalize order. Begin email to my tutor (the only contact I have at Kaplan).
“Hey! Arg. Nobody told me (for the three weeks I was in contact with Kaplan) that I should sign up for my test. I’m barely squeaking in at 8am — this sucks. Why didn’t anybody tell me?!!!”
Ok … well, she had instructed me to sign up for the UPT a week prior to the actual exam.
Umm… how do I do that.
Head to KAPLAN. Look at my syllabus. In there is a line about signing up for the UPT. Click.
“Here’s an explanation of how you need to do this. We don’t have any pertinent data for you — just an explanation that you need to do this. Over at mba.com/kaplan. Have a nice day.”
arg… ok … mba.com/kaplan
“Please fill out your information”
Mr. … Malcolm … Mead … etc…
“Have you taken this test before? [yes/no] … please include your KaplanID”
No. Click.
“You cannot proceed without a KaplanID, which you will find in your syllabus.”
Um… what?
Ok — flip back over to KAPLAN.
“You have to fill out your UPT application at mba.com/kaplan — you’ll need your KaplanID, which you will find above this section.”
Above this section? I’m on a pop-up page … there’s no above here … this is all there is?
Email tutor:
“Arg … how do I find my KaplanID? This is insane. Why is this so painful? I’m really pretty ticked off now. –Malcolm”
Check my email records — ahhh… here’s my receipt with my Enrollment ID … phew.
Back to mba.com
Copy/Paste.
“I’m sorry — that’s not a valid KaplanID — you will need to find it in your syllabus.”
Back to syllabus (at this point I have about 6 or 7 windows open slamming back and forth trying to find info).
Oh — thank God! Here’s something marked “information about signing up for your UPT”
Click.
In the jankiest plain-text looking puke language possible (read, written by a coder, not a web-developer), is a paragraph that babbles about taking steps .. and here’s your KaplanID (which is something like 12012398230.asadf23423).
Copy/Paste into mba.com
“Thank you for registering for your UPT. What dates would you like?”
January 1, or thereabouts.
“I’m sorry — we don’t have anything available on those dates, nor do we have anything available where you will be taking your actual test. Here are some 8am tests slots in other test centers … ha ha … you should have applied sooner, you overcharged loser.”
Great… umm…
grrrr.…
Skip it. Write another email to the tutor.
“What is the MATTER with these people? Arg! –Malcolm”
Get home — fully amped. Feeling agitated and miserable because of KAPLAN.
Kathy tries to hose me down — no good … gotta lock myself in the study. Get away from her and the kids — no innocent bystanders.
Fume, rage, fume, rage … call 1800-KAP-TEST
“Thank you for calling — please navigate an arduously long-winded voicemail tree.”
Beep — boop — beep.
“Thank you for calling — your call is important to us. Your call will be directed to the next available operator.”
*click*
What? Hello? What?!
GRRRR!!!!!
Call 1800KRAP-TEST again.
“Thank you for calling — please navigate an arduously long-winded voicemail tree.”
Beep — boop — mistakeboop.
*click*
SERIOUSLY?!!!!
Call again!
“Thank you for calling — please navigate an arduously long-winded voicemail tree.”
Beep — boop — beep.
“Thank you for calling — your call is important to us. Your call will be directed to the next available operator.”
Wait … wait …
Real person, “Hello, thank you for calling Kaplan. Our offices are closed right now — would you like me to take a message for you?”
“Yes please? I’d like to file a complaint.”
“Oh, ok — please describe the complaint? What’s your phone number?”
I give all the info — hang up.
Let’s go check mba.com again — because I’m twisted.
Schedule GMAT — click
Review available dates.
“There is a slot open in Northgate on January 8, 2010 at 12pm”
WOOT! Scream out loud — “Honey, help! I need my wallet RIGHT NOW … run!”
Kathy comes running in, grabs my wallet — I reach over and pull everything out of it onto the floor, scattering it across the floor “just get the gray card — get it now!”
She hands me the card.
Type fast — fly fingers fly!
Click — yes, I’ll choose defaults for deliveries — here’s my card information — submit request … oops, didn’t click the “I accept” ok — check the box — click! Woot … it’s saying…
“I’m sorry, you already have a test scheduled on this date — you cannot schedule two tests on the same date.”
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!! (I think I actually said that as I screamed across the house).
I screamed enough that Kathy came over from the dinner table quietly and closed the doors to the study.
I was just trying to reschedule — where do I do THAT?!!!!
Find an innocuous link called “View Appointment Activity” — whatever THAT means.
Oh — there’s my registered 8am … it has a reschedule button! Woot!
Click reschedule. What’s your availability for January 8?
“I’m sorry — 12pm is not available on that date. Would you like 8am?”
Ok … for those that know me — I’d just like to point out that I did not throw either my phone, nor my laptop at this moment.
I just screamed — a lot… in a room with closed doors.
No profanity though — just screaming.
Defeat.
Despair.
Leave the room — go to dinner. I’m recalling that I bumped into the available 12pm because I’d expanded my search to include Oregon and Canada — the 12pm is still in Northgate — but I had seen it due to desperation is all.
Dinner is over. Chris calls.
“Hey man — how’s it going?”, he asks.
“Pain … suffering… despair — you?”
“Just working.”
I aimlessly navigate mba.com — seeing if I can find that reschedule button again — maybe over the next week I can just poke and poke and poke at it — like at Ticketmaster for a good show.
Oh — right, it’s easily found under “View Appointment Activity”
Chatting with Chris.
Reschedule — click.
“There is an appointment available at 12pm at Northgate on January 8″
At this point, I think what Chris hears is something like:
“Ohmigodohmigodohmigod … dude — I can’t explain — just can’t talk — I gotta do something … where is it? Gotta get it — I need my card … I can’t explain man — gotta move fast … look out!”
Chris described it later as sounding like I was playing an online video game.
Well — I scored the 12pm slot on January 8, 2010 … only cost me an extra $50 for the reschedule (an hour later).
Should I hate KAPLAN center in Seattle? I’m not sure yet. They should have told me to register weeks ago.
I mean … what if I actually was taking the test in mid-December?