destroy.rebuild

So, in dealings with and speakings to those around me, a certain idea seems to be of importance; also, this idea is  needed just as badly to be instilled, taught, or smacked into me, whichever is most effective.  When we think of Christ changing our lives, of being transformed by the renewing of our minds, of taking off the old self and putting on the new self, don't we often think of that as something that still occurs in the life we lived before?  It's easy to take the old Jon Bierma and replace him with Jesus' new version of Jon Bierma and put him back into his life as it was, but with some changes.  But what if giving our lives as living sacrifices means that the very foundation of our lives is different?  If our old selves have died, there's nothing left; if anything is to be rebuilt, the very basis of our lives will be different.  Too often, Christ is an add-on in my life; I have my traditions and beliefs rooted in 20 years of life, and yes, Christ pokes holes in some of it, but he fills in the cracks with cement patches. But no, Christ throws that one out and starts over, not just remodeling the house, but starting from the ground up.  If my life is changed, then my life might be like Jesus, but if my life is new, then for me to live is Christ, because Christ is my life, not just something in it.  This isn't just an election for who's running the government in my life, it's a completely new country. Am I putting Jesus into my life, or am I putting my life into Jesus?

*Romans 12:1-2, Colossians 3:9-10, Philippians 2:21, Colossians 3:3-

A Song of Colonial Mexican Bakers

For my Latin American History research paper, I am arguing how food is a national identity in Mexico.  At least, that's what I'm supposed to be doing.  I was intrigued by a song I found in one of the books about Mexican food, so I felt compelled to share it with you.  The lyrics are beautiful and moving, so to think that 18th century street musicians composed these words is unexpected.  Taken directly from a historical source, renowned for its accuracy and amount of information.



He is really a baker
who doesn't indulge himself;
and if you give him a tiny
kiss, he'll start to work.

She is really a baker
who doesn't indulge herself;
take off your underpants
because I want to party.



There you have it.  I blame this for the existence of American pop "music" in the condition it's in today.

No, I am not thinking about buying Manchester Orchestra's $90 pre-order bundle?

Every time I buy a song from iTunes, a little part of me dies.  No, not because I'm fueling the music industry's chokehold on artists who create music and pour their lives into it only to get 12 cents to the dollar for each purchase.  Okay, maybe I lied, that does bother me quite a bit.  The thing that really gets me, though, is buying a song which at one instance of time is out and about in the netherworld of the interweb and the next instant, after a minute of downloading and readjusting itself to its new foreign environment, resides in my iTunes library.  I don't ever pick up the CD in my hand and hear the cellophane crinkle.  I can't break open the annoying sticker on the case and pull the CD out for its first breath of life.  I can't pull out the album liner and pore over every detail of artwork, pictures, and (hopefully) lyrics.   No color.  No life.  Just another transaction across ethernet cables.

iTunes is convenient and fast and really great for those amazing songs on less-than-stellar albums.  Also, iTunes gift cards seem to be popular gifts, which I refuse to complain about.  If you give me one, it'll take me three months to use it, not because I don't like anything, but because I'll be straining over the decision of what to get.  This is where I feel the most torn.  I have a convenient amount of money in my account, which will purchase me an album that I've been looking at for a long time.  Why haven't I bought it yet?  It's not that I don't want it, and I don't really have much else I'm even considering buying, but the fact that I don't get to  hold it in my hands and possess the CD, which is really dumb since the only time I use the CD's is to import them into iTunes and in my car, makes me hesitate to buy it.  It's all about the music, though, right?  That's what I tell myself, and I'd really like to believe it, but it's not completely true.  That's what I get for being a visual person.  Maybe this is why the idea of records intrigues me; a giant piece of machinery devoted only to playing music, which comes in the form of an enormous disc with an equally large casing and cover artwork, would absolutely complete the aesthetic experience for me.  No, I'm not a hipster.  I just think it would be really cool.

I think I was born in the wrong decade.