Have you ever read, heard, or saw something and your first thought was that’s awesome and then you’re second thought was – wait, should I be insulted? (This can also happen in the reverse order. You can be initially insulted and then think it’s awesome).
This happened to me this week when I received an email from another female engineer about “Nerd Girls”. Apparently, someone is casting for a reality television show that centers on female engineers being awesome female engineers and solving real world problems for the community or companies. My first thought was “This seems awesome! What a way to support females in engineering!” So I went to the website and checked it out.
I watched their little video and the awesome feeling inside me began to dwindle away into being appalled. I won’t say I was insulted – because it wasn’t exactly insulting.
It seemed initially that the premise of the show was to give young girls great, awesome role models like female engineers. We’re a rare breed, and everyone wants to encourage girls to continue in math and science. (Because math and science are awesome and - short of an apocalypse* - are the way of the future). However, as they stressed that they wanted girls between 18 & 23, and that engineer girls can where stiletto’s too, a feeling of horror began to fill me.
Let’s be honest. Unless she’s a genius (which is admittedly possible), an eighteen-year-old girl is not an engineer. She’ll be lucky if she’s had Calc III and Physics II. She’ll be lucky if she knows a computer language. So the only reason they could be looking for girls in that age group is if they’re looking for “hot” girls.
And I can’t remember the last time one of my female friends wore high stilettos. Maybe a semi-formal? But then the shoes came off for the actual dancing, so they were only worn for dinner. You can’t walk in those kinds of shoes, and they’re bad for your feet.
I’m all about changing the stereotype. I hate that the recommendation given to girls before career fairs is “don’t dress too girly”, as if it’s bad to remind employers we’re female. But if we’re going to do this, let’s use real engineers. Some of us will be die-hard nerds, like myself. Some of us will be cheerleaders, like the Project Systems Engineer for my grad school project. Some of us will be romance novel junkies. Some of us will love rugby. Few of us will wear make-up regularly while in college. (Let’s just face it. When I’m about to take a three hour exam – looking good is the furthest thing from my mind).
So if you’re going to do this – go all the way and be true to female engineers. Cast a WoW player. Cast a sorority girl. Cast a die-hard Trekkie. Cast the girl who writes novels in her spare time. But please don’t fill it with only one type of girl (hot girls who like to dress up). Because that’s a lie.
The point of breaking stereotypes is not to create new ones.
And if you’re going to have a show about female engineers, at least make sure they have degrees. Redefine the age to 22 to 26 or something like that. Or better yet – open it to grad students. Seriously, grad students will do almost anything for funding. You can easily fill a show by promising funding for a year if you spend your summer being part of a reality show. Or better way – let the winner of the show get a full ride for their entire PhD.
That would be a real female engineering show.
*Be prepared for a coming article on why most engineers will be useless in a post-apocalyptic world.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
New Blog Design
So I decided my old blog design was too busy. I wanted something a little simpler and something that represented the idea of a "bittersweet fountain". Alas, blogger didn't have any fountains as a choice - but I'll keep looking.
But what do you think? Do you like this new design? Please let me know!
But what do you think? Do you like this new design? Please let me know!
Kylar Stern vs. Richard Rahl
First off, I want to say that I am neither picking on Mr. Weeks or Mr. Goodkind, or their characters. Kylar and Richard are two fabulous characters. The title of this article could just have easily been “Mat Cauthon vs. Michael Hosea”. However, there are two good reasons why I did not title it that:
So instead, I chose two characters who aren’t so close to my or my friend’s hearts, but are still good examples of what I want to talk about.
Kylar Stern is the main character of the Night Angel Trilogy by Brent Weeks. If you haven’t read these books, you need to. In fact, open a new tab and order them online right now. I’ll wait for you.
……
Done? Good. So Kylar Stern starts off as a boy named “Azoth”, who is basically a gang member. He lives on the streets and hopes to survive each day without anything too absolutely horrific happening to him. In order to get out of his life, he apprentices himself to the most feared wetboy (a magical ninja/assassin). He and the other characters who are part of the story don’t always make the best decisions. They make mistakes. Sometimes I wanted to strangle Kylar or shout “ARE YOU STUPID?” I refrained from shouting – no need to scare my roommates. Kylar didn’t just make mistakes, though. Mistakes alone are easily overlooked. Kylar made bad decisions. Kylar did horrible things. He’s a ninja/assassin so you can at least assume he’s murdered his fair share of people. Kylar is an imperfect character.
Now, moving on to his opposite in this discussion, we have Richard Rahl. Richard Rahl is the main character of the Sword of Truth series – which I’ve mentioned before. I have many problems with Sword of Truth (mainly they were too long), but Richard Rahl is a fantastic character. He is basically your farm boy turned hero. Or rather, your woods guide turned Seeker of Truth. He’s amiable, a good man, mostly even tempered – but learns to use his rage for justice and truth to be the Seeker - and quite the libertarian. I wouldn’t say Richard is 100% perfect, but he’s pretty darn close. His only real character flaw is his anger.
So on one hand we have Kylar Stern – an imperfect character with more flaws than I can count. On the other hand, we have Richard Rahl, who more than 90% of the females who read Sword of Truth fall in love with. (Yes, that’s a completely made up statistic – but you get my point). Which sort of character is better? Which sort of character makes for a better story?
Kylar is frustrating, infuriating, and makes me want to yell at him. Richard is steady, compassionate, understanding, and makes me want to hug him. However, Kylar is the character I connected better with.
I’m clearly not a ninja/assassin – nor am I magical – but I could relate to the fact the Kylar made mistakes. I could relate when he made the clearly wrong decision. I could relate when he did something that was just wrong. Kylar was a sinner and so am I.
Richard is a much harder character for me to relate to. I read his story because I loved him – not because I related to him. Following his story was like following the story of a boy who is an unattainable crush – unrelateable but dazzling.
The Sword of Truth is immensely popular, so obviously creating a perfect-ish character is ok. However, when it comes to the books that really make me think, the books that really connect to me, it’s always the books with imperfect characters.
When I got to the end of Sword of Truth, I missed Richard Rahl. When I got to the end of the Night Angel Trilogy, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the character development that had happened (which is deeply tied in with the plot points – as it should be).
So I think I’ll try my hardest to create characters who struggle, characters who make mistakes, characters who sin. The love interests won’t just be handsome men who can come to the rescue (should the damsel need rescuing). They will be imperfect men, who frustrate the heroine, constantly vex her, and sometimes forget to rescue her.
People aren’t perfect, and I don’t think our characters should be either.
- I love Mat Cauthon (as I’ve mentioned before), and no character can hold a candle to him.
- Too many of my friends love Michael Hosea and might come after me and kill me if I say anything slightly negative about him.
So instead, I chose two characters who aren’t so close to my or my friend’s hearts, but are still good examples of what I want to talk about.
Kylar Stern is the main character of the Night Angel Trilogy by Brent Weeks. If you haven’t read these books, you need to. In fact, open a new tab and order them online right now. I’ll wait for you.
……
Done? Good. So Kylar Stern starts off as a boy named “Azoth”, who is basically a gang member. He lives on the streets and hopes to survive each day without anything too absolutely horrific happening to him. In order to get out of his life, he apprentices himself to the most feared wetboy (a magical ninja/assassin). He and the other characters who are part of the story don’t always make the best decisions. They make mistakes. Sometimes I wanted to strangle Kylar or shout “ARE YOU STUPID?” I refrained from shouting – no need to scare my roommates. Kylar didn’t just make mistakes, though. Mistakes alone are easily overlooked. Kylar made bad decisions. Kylar did horrible things. He’s a ninja/assassin so you can at least assume he’s murdered his fair share of people. Kylar is an imperfect character.
Now, moving on to his opposite in this discussion, we have Richard Rahl. Richard Rahl is the main character of the Sword of Truth series – which I’ve mentioned before. I have many problems with Sword of Truth (mainly they were too long), but Richard Rahl is a fantastic character. He is basically your farm boy turned hero. Or rather, your woods guide turned Seeker of Truth. He’s amiable, a good man, mostly even tempered – but learns to use his rage for justice and truth to be the Seeker - and quite the libertarian. I wouldn’t say Richard is 100% perfect, but he’s pretty darn close. His only real character flaw is his anger.
So on one hand we have Kylar Stern – an imperfect character with more flaws than I can count. On the other hand, we have Richard Rahl, who more than 90% of the females who read Sword of Truth fall in love with. (Yes, that’s a completely made up statistic – but you get my point). Which sort of character is better? Which sort of character makes for a better story?
Kylar is frustrating, infuriating, and makes me want to yell at him. Richard is steady, compassionate, understanding, and makes me want to hug him. However, Kylar is the character I connected better with.
I’m clearly not a ninja/assassin – nor am I magical – but I could relate to the fact the Kylar made mistakes. I could relate when he made the clearly wrong decision. I could relate when he did something that was just wrong. Kylar was a sinner and so am I.
Richard is a much harder character for me to relate to. I read his story because I loved him – not because I related to him. Following his story was like following the story of a boy who is an unattainable crush – unrelateable but dazzling.
The Sword of Truth is immensely popular, so obviously creating a perfect-ish character is ok. However, when it comes to the books that really make me think, the books that really connect to me, it’s always the books with imperfect characters.
When I got to the end of Sword of Truth, I missed Richard Rahl. When I got to the end of the Night Angel Trilogy, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the character development that had happened (which is deeply tied in with the plot points – as it should be).
So I think I’ll try my hardest to create characters who struggle, characters who make mistakes, characters who sin. The love interests won’t just be handsome men who can come to the rescue (should the damsel need rescuing). They will be imperfect men, who frustrate the heroine, constantly vex her, and sometimes forget to rescue her.
People aren’t perfect, and I don’t think our characters should be either.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Most Influential Person
Today on his blog, Nathan Bransford posed an interesting question:
"Who Have Been the Most Influential People in Your Writing Life?"
For me there is only one real answer. "I blame my little sister." (And yes, blame is the appropriate verb.)
When we were little, my sister demanded I play with her. (I know, outrageous). She is only two years younger, so it wasn't exactly hard to play at her level (or rather, pull her up to mine - because that was exactly what I demanded). First we played with what we called "peoples", plastic toys in the shape of people made for young children. My sister would play with one particular people , a girl, and I would give life to all of her family, giving them personalities and such. Then we grew out of peoples and moved on to Barbies. My sister would pick one Barbie to be her own and demand that I enliven the rest of them.
Many a Barbie saga was lived out in our bedroom. (Yes we shared a room). The bookshelf became an apartment complex. The bunkbeds were a mansion. The dresser was the school. We had a regular Barbie armada - though thanks to my brother not all the Barbies kept their limbs or heads. (And some were burned to death re-enacting the burning of Atlanta for his high school history project - but that's another story).
The first generation of Barbies would arise - getting married to our GI Joes (because Ken dolls just simply aren't good enough). We even created a clever system where the gender of children they had was determined by a coin toss. The first generationers then raised their children until they grew into the second generation of Barbies and the whole process started again. Barbies lived, worked, loved, had families, and even went to war in our bedroom. Of course, all the storylines revolved around my little sister's main character - who was usually fabulously wealthy or a lost princess.
When I was in middle school, Zenon came out. My sister loved Zenon. She watched it over and over again, and then she demanded we play a game of make-believe where she was Zenon and we were living on a space station. While she played and acted as Zenon, I had to be all the other students at the school, the teachers, parents, and any other character simultaneously.
I rose to the challenge but instead of creating the space station as represented in the movie - I created our own space station. In our space station - children from all the planets attended. I created a unique civilization (or so I thought) for each planet - where humans had secretly been living for centuries, watching Earth mature into something worthy of their attention.
From this my first attempt at a story was born "Jaij of Jupiter". Clearly, it was about a girl from Jupiter. I outlined an entire series that covered characters from each of the nine planets, all of it converging on a man named Justin - who had to overcome the painful loss of his beautiful young wife, admit to his family that he had secretly been the smartest man in the galaxy for sometime, and then prove to the Universe that our galaxy was finally ready to join their Universal Senate.
Really the story outline was a little ambitious for an eleven-year-old, and my writing could not handle it - back then I didn't write so well. In time other ideas came and my writing abilities developed. I wrote my first complete novel-ish story when I was in the seventh grade. (It was really awful but it was an accomplishment).
So you see - my writing is really my little sister's fault. She demanded I tax my imagination to create worlds and games for her. And I discovered that I loved doing it.
Really, she hosed herself over - because I started writing in earnest in the eighth grade. Writing took away the need to play with her to stretch my imagination - I could now play make believe by myself. I didn't need to play with my sister and didn't want to play by her rules. However, my little sister wasn't willing to give up easily - so I ended up playing Barbies and make-believe with her until she grew out of it.
Now she reads my stories, so I like to think we're all satisfied with the situation.
So really, my little sister was the most influential person in my writing life. She demanded I create worlds, and now I'm just doing my best to live by that command.
"Who Have Been the Most Influential People in Your Writing Life?"
For me there is only one real answer. "I blame my little sister." (And yes, blame is the appropriate verb.)
When we were little, my sister demanded I play with her. (I know, outrageous). She is only two years younger, so it wasn't exactly hard to play at her level (or rather, pull her up to mine - because that was exactly what I demanded). First we played with what we called "peoples", plastic toys in the shape of people made for young children. My sister would play with one particular people , a girl, and I would give life to all of her family, giving them personalities and such. Then we grew out of peoples and moved on to Barbies. My sister would pick one Barbie to be her own and demand that I enliven the rest of them.
Many a Barbie saga was lived out in our bedroom. (Yes we shared a room). The bookshelf became an apartment complex. The bunkbeds were a mansion. The dresser was the school. We had a regular Barbie armada - though thanks to my brother not all the Barbies kept their limbs or heads. (And some were burned to death re-enacting the burning of Atlanta for his high school history project - but that's another story).
The first generation of Barbies would arise - getting married to our GI Joes (because Ken dolls just simply aren't good enough). We even created a clever system where the gender of children they had was determined by a coin toss. The first generationers then raised their children until they grew into the second generation of Barbies and the whole process started again. Barbies lived, worked, loved, had families, and even went to war in our bedroom. Of course, all the storylines revolved around my little sister's main character - who was usually fabulously wealthy or a lost princess.
When I was in middle school, Zenon came out. My sister loved Zenon. She watched it over and over again, and then she demanded we play a game of make-believe where she was Zenon and we were living on a space station. While she played and acted as Zenon, I had to be all the other students at the school, the teachers, parents, and any other character simultaneously.
I rose to the challenge but instead of creating the space station as represented in the movie - I created our own space station. In our space station - children from all the planets attended. I created a unique civilization (or so I thought) for each planet - where humans had secretly been living for centuries, watching Earth mature into something worthy of their attention.
From this my first attempt at a story was born "Jaij of Jupiter". Clearly, it was about a girl from Jupiter. I outlined an entire series that covered characters from each of the nine planets, all of it converging on a man named Justin - who had to overcome the painful loss of his beautiful young wife, admit to his family that he had secretly been the smartest man in the galaxy for sometime, and then prove to the Universe that our galaxy was finally ready to join their Universal Senate.
Really the story outline was a little ambitious for an eleven-year-old, and my writing could not handle it - back then I didn't write so well. In time other ideas came and my writing abilities developed. I wrote my first complete novel-ish story when I was in the seventh grade. (It was really awful but it was an accomplishment).
So you see - my writing is really my little sister's fault. She demanded I tax my imagination to create worlds and games for her. And I discovered that I loved doing it.
Really, she hosed herself over - because I started writing in earnest in the eighth grade. Writing took away the need to play with her to stretch my imagination - I could now play make believe by myself. I didn't need to play with my sister and didn't want to play by her rules. However, my little sister wasn't willing to give up easily - so I ended up playing Barbies and make-believe with her until she grew out of it.
Now she reads my stories, so I like to think we're all satisfied with the situation.
So really, my little sister was the most influential person in my writing life. She demanded I create worlds, and now I'm just doing my best to live by that command.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Ugh
This morning I went about my routine as normal - on time to get to work at 7:15 am, like I always do. At 6:45, I walked out to my car with keys in hand, ready to be off.
I stopped when I saw streaks of yellow on my car. Confusion was quickly followed by anger.
Someone had egged my car.
I then spent the next half an hour washing my car - making me later than normal to work.
Why would someone egg my car? It's so stupid. Practically no one in this city even knows me - so it's not that someone was mad at me. It was a stupid and random act.
What a great start to what's going to be an absolutely uplifting weekend! Hopefully when I head out tomorrow, dressed in mourning black, preparing myself mentally for Mike's memorial, I won't find my car egged again.
I stopped when I saw streaks of yellow on my car. Confusion was quickly followed by anger.
Someone had egged my car.
I then spent the next half an hour washing my car - making me later than normal to work.
Why would someone egg my car? It's so stupid. Practically no one in this city even knows me - so it's not that someone was mad at me. It was a stupid and random act.
What a great start to what's going to be an absolutely uplifting weekend! Hopefully when I head out tomorrow, dressed in mourning black, preparing myself mentally for Mike's memorial, I won't find my car egged again.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Something Small
So I know Yoda would disagree with me on this one. He would say not to let your negative feelings control you - put anger aside - "your weapons, you need not", etc etc.
But Yoda is a jedimaster, not an aspiring author.
Yesterday I found out someone I knew in high school died. At first, I didn't feel much of a connection to this death. After all, I haven't spoken to this person in five years - so isn't he (for all intents and purposes) already dead to me?
Today I discovered, its not the same at all. Before he wasn't dead - despite the fact that he was out of sight and out of mind. Today sitting in my cube, my writer's imagination got the better of me. I was thinking about Mike - his death - and about the wife he left behind. They were married in November. They've only been married for seven months and now he's dead. I began trying to fathom how awful this all must be for her. I began to attempt to imagine how sad and angry she must be (presuming the truth has fully hit her and she's not in denial). And I began to get angry. (I'll also admit I teared up a little).
I began to troll the web, looking for some clue that someone had stood up and taken notice of the fact that Mike McGahan was dead. I found a few articles, but only in local papers. I was angry that cnn.com and bbc.com and the other major news network websites I read did not care that 10 people died in Afghanistan on Sunday/Monday (depending on time zone). It was one of the deadliest days for NATO troops since we entered Afghanistan. Already it was old news to them - not something they would be discussing anymore (if they had ever discussed it all). This made me angry.
And this anger made me want to write in my new WIP (WIP = work in progress = the novel I'm currently writing. I'm not making this acronym up. Writer types us it all the time).
My critiquers (aka critters) don't know this yet because they're only on chapter three, but my new WIP is much darker than the other things I've written. I don't think they're expecting that because one of my critters made the comment to one of my characters statements: "This makes the character seem too dark. I think I would change this." I didn't change it because you're supposed to think that character is a little dark.
So I used my anger that I'm feeling at Mike's death to write a scene that's coming in my WIP - a scene where my MC (main character) is also angry because someone she cares deeply for just died. She's angry at Fate/God for letting it happen, she's angry at herself for standing by and letting it happen, and she's angry at the society that created the situation where this would happen. She's angry at everyone.
It's been a long time since someone I know died. The last death in my family was a suicide - which is an entirely different type of feeling from someone getting killed like the character in this story.
I finished writing that future scene - finished capturing those feelings that are so fresh in me - and then I thought "maybe that's good enough - maybe that rid me of all these feelings and I can just go read and enjoy a book now". But it hasn't. I tried to read and just got fed up with the book not expressing the feelings I want to express. So I went back to my WIP and starting working on the next chapter.
Granted Chapter 4 isn't exactly a tragic death scene and most of the emotions felt are on the happier side of the scale. However, I know where the story is going - and if some of the darkness I'm feeling leaks into my writing, then it's just doing a better job of setting the tone the story needs.
Because this story is dark - probably the darkest I've ever undertaken.
So for this once I'm going to set aside Yoda's advice. I'm going to use my anger and darkness to write about a character who is angry and dark. I'm going to use my anger at society - at a world that has wars and lets good men like Mike McGahan die - to write about a character who is angry at society.
And maybe a small thing will grow out of Mike's death. Just a novel - something inconsequential in the grand scheme of things that will mean nothing to his wife who must be filled with sorrow - but it is something. It's the best I can do. It's all I have to offer. So it's what I'm giving. Today I write for Mike and Miranda.
But Yoda is a jedimaster, not an aspiring author.
Yesterday I found out someone I knew in high school died. At first, I didn't feel much of a connection to this death. After all, I haven't spoken to this person in five years - so isn't he (for all intents and purposes) already dead to me?
Today I discovered, its not the same at all. Before he wasn't dead - despite the fact that he was out of sight and out of mind. Today sitting in my cube, my writer's imagination got the better of me. I was thinking about Mike - his death - and about the wife he left behind. They were married in November. They've only been married for seven months and now he's dead. I began trying to fathom how awful this all must be for her. I began to attempt to imagine how sad and angry she must be (presuming the truth has fully hit her and she's not in denial). And I began to get angry. (I'll also admit I teared up a little).
I began to troll the web, looking for some clue that someone had stood up and taken notice of the fact that Mike McGahan was dead. I found a few articles, but only in local papers. I was angry that cnn.com and bbc.com and the other major news network websites I read did not care that 10 people died in Afghanistan on Sunday/Monday (depending on time zone). It was one of the deadliest days for NATO troops since we entered Afghanistan. Already it was old news to them - not something they would be discussing anymore (if they had ever discussed it all). This made me angry.
And this anger made me want to write in my new WIP (WIP = work in progress = the novel I'm currently writing. I'm not making this acronym up. Writer types us it all the time).
My critiquers (aka critters) don't know this yet because they're only on chapter three, but my new WIP is much darker than the other things I've written. I don't think they're expecting that because one of my critters made the comment to one of my characters statements: "This makes the character seem too dark. I think I would change this." I didn't change it because you're supposed to think that character is a little dark.
So I used my anger that I'm feeling at Mike's death to write a scene that's coming in my WIP - a scene where my MC (main character) is also angry because someone she cares deeply for just died. She's angry at Fate/God for letting it happen, she's angry at herself for standing by and letting it happen, and she's angry at the society that created the situation where this would happen. She's angry at everyone.
It's been a long time since someone I know died. The last death in my family was a suicide - which is an entirely different type of feeling from someone getting killed like the character in this story.
I finished writing that future scene - finished capturing those feelings that are so fresh in me - and then I thought "maybe that's good enough - maybe that rid me of all these feelings and I can just go read and enjoy a book now". But it hasn't. I tried to read and just got fed up with the book not expressing the feelings I want to express. So I went back to my WIP and starting working on the next chapter.
Granted Chapter 4 isn't exactly a tragic death scene and most of the emotions felt are on the happier side of the scale. However, I know where the story is going - and if some of the darkness I'm feeling leaks into my writing, then it's just doing a better job of setting the tone the story needs.
Because this story is dark - probably the darkest I've ever undertaken.
So for this once I'm going to set aside Yoda's advice. I'm going to use my anger and darkness to write about a character who is angry and dark. I'm going to use my anger at society - at a world that has wars and lets good men like Mike McGahan die - to write about a character who is angry at society.
And maybe a small thing will grow out of Mike's death. Just a novel - something inconsequential in the grand scheme of things that will mean nothing to his wife who must be filled with sorrow - but it is something. It's the best I can do. It's all I have to offer. So it's what I'm giving. Today I write for Mike and Miranda.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
A Boy Who Smiled
We all know that everyone dies. It's a fact that we all learn from a very young age. Yet despite this a lot of people secretly believe we're immortal. It's hard for us to fathom that one day this life will end. Even Christians like myself who know that we're in God hands and we'll be in heaven one day often don't think about the idea that any moment now something could fall out of the sky, end my life here on Earth, and send me to heaven. Sure "one day" I'll die, but not tomorrow. Not next week. That day is far far off. I'm immortal.
Then something happens, something that reminds us that we're not immortal.
Someone we know dies. Someone we remember laughing, smiling, and joking dies. Someone who was so very much alive dies.
Mike McGahan died this week. You may have read about it in the news if you're from Central Florida or went to UF. If you're one of my friends from Atlanta, you don't know Mike. He's just a name to you.
To me, Mike McGahan was a boy I met in high school. Like me, he was an APEX student, which means nothing to people who didn't go to Olympia. What is meant for us is that we had pretty much every class together from sophomore year to senior year.
Most of my memories of Mike are him laughing or smiling. I also remember specifically in sophomore English that he would speak up and give his opinion - sometimes in contention to my own. Mike was part of the peanut gallery of students who always had a comment and an opinion in history class. However, unlike some of his classmates, Mike knew when to get serious - when it was time to be quiet and listen to the teacher.
It's been five years since I last saw Mike. In my mind he is still that laughing boy from senior year, tall and gangly with a smile on his face.
Mike McGahan died in Afghanistan where he was a combat engineer for the army. He was 23.
We all die. And it can come any time, whether 100 or 23.
Mike McGahan was a friend in high school, and my heart goes to his family - especially his wife, Miranda, who was also my friend in high school. God will be with them, and I don't know what His plan is - I don't pretend to know how this fits in - but everything is worked in the end for God's glory.
I shall forever remember Mike McGahan.
Then something happens, something that reminds us that we're not immortal.
Someone we know dies. Someone we remember laughing, smiling, and joking dies. Someone who was so very much alive dies.
Mike McGahan died this week. You may have read about it in the news if you're from Central Florida or went to UF. If you're one of my friends from Atlanta, you don't know Mike. He's just a name to you.
To me, Mike McGahan was a boy I met in high school. Like me, he was an APEX student, which means nothing to people who didn't go to Olympia. What is meant for us is that we had pretty much every class together from sophomore year to senior year.
Most of my memories of Mike are him laughing or smiling. I also remember specifically in sophomore English that he would speak up and give his opinion - sometimes in contention to my own. Mike was part of the peanut gallery of students who always had a comment and an opinion in history class. However, unlike some of his classmates, Mike knew when to get serious - when it was time to be quiet and listen to the teacher.
It's been five years since I last saw Mike. In my mind he is still that laughing boy from senior year, tall and gangly with a smile on his face.
Mike McGahan died in Afghanistan where he was a combat engineer for the army. He was 23.
We all die. And it can come any time, whether 100 or 23.
Mike McGahan was a friend in high school, and my heart goes to his family - especially his wife, Miranda, who was also my friend in high school. God will be with them, and I don't know what His plan is - I don't pretend to know how this fits in - but everything is worked in the end for God's glory.
I shall forever remember Mike McGahan.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)