This afternoon all of the stars in my interesting little pocket of universe unexpectedly collided. I resurrected all of my childhood beliefs that good things (great things!) can happen to me for no reason.

It can be hard, at times, to feel like this ordered world we live in still dishes out gifts that we haven’t worked for. As a cake-breathed kid, my love-rich environment conditioned me to assume that a trip to the zoo was a toothless grin away and dessert before dinner was just natural. I had no qualms about asking for an extra squirt of flavor in my coconut snowcone, even though I hadn’t paid for it. And a trip to the Wickett, Texas swimming pool was a sure thing every summer afternoon at 4pm, no matter how good or bad my brother and I had been earlier in the day. (Maybe our punishment for bad behavior was having to wear a stripe of bright green zink-oxide down the bridges of our noses). Life was a lot simpler then and, like a lot of kids, I was born with rose-tinted glasses intact.

Post-college, though, real life quickly introduced herself to me. As an artist, that “introduction” was especially hard to stomach. When I painted stick figures for my parents, they gave me a quarter. Now, when I spend months painting and showing my work, I’ve learned to expect some negative (and even worse, some apathetic) reactions. Gifts and praise are not freely given. They’re earned. It’s harder for me to ask for an extra squirt of coconut flavoring in my snowcone without having a dollar bill tucked away in my back pocket just in case.

Maybe that realism shifted a little to idealism this afternoon.

Out of the blue, we got a call that the Soiled Dove (a great little venue in Denver) had upgraded our tickets to the Over the Rhine show taking place this coming Saturday evening. We were told by someone named Chris M. that we were going to be given a special table, front and center with our very own nameplate for the show.

We called and asked Chris M. why we’d somehow won the music lottery without ever having to gamble on a ticket. His response was kind and also kind of suspicious/secretive. “Well, we sometimes just do that for guests.” But, our very own nameplate? At a venue we’ve never visited before? Weird.

And also wonderful. You see, earlier this morning I spent a good 15 minutes daydreaming about Linford Detweiler and Karin Bergquist, the songbirds behind the band name. I first learned of OtR about 3 years ago. My first song (akin to a first kiss really) was “Latter Days.” For me, the lyrics helped to edify my belief that there will always be glimmers of beauty in the worst kinds of pain. And Karin’s voice. O h, t h a t v o i c e. . .

Hearing Karin sing is as close as I think I’ll ever get to hearing an angel and this Saturday evening I get to sit inches away from this muse. Should I try and probe to see why we were called and told we will be treated like royalty this weekend? Rather than find out there were just extra seats and we got the long straw, I think I’ll just assume that this is one of many upcoming encounters with grace. I will try to take some pictures at the show. After all, I’ll probably have the best view in the house.

It is so much more fun to be an idealist than a realist anyway.

I love how easy MTV and Microsoft have made it.

We’re becoming more savvy about ideas and efforts that make positive differences in the world, but are often unable to do anything. We’re busy with our jobs, families, and personal interests, so don’t have time to fly around the world lobbying for peace, justice or healing.

But, social activism still matters to us, right?

I read on Ad Week this morning that MTV has just launched its Beta site Think.MTV.com. It’s a cool stab at social networking meant to really capitalize on our desire to impact the world starting with our computers. I noticed that one of the banner ads on their new site pointed back to Windows Live Messenger and their new initiative, i’m making a difference.

Here’s what the site says:

i’m is a new initiative from Windows Live Messenger™. Every time you start a conversation using i’m, Microsoft shares a portion of the program’s advertising revenue with some of the world’s most effective organizations dedicated to social causes. We’ve set no cap on the amount we’ll donate to each organization. The sky’s the limit.

Out of the gate, Microsoft is supporting 9 organizations. One that I’m particularly interested in supporting is the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. So, they’ve made it really easy for me to download this cool web button so all of you can click and learn:

Or, say you’re passionate about:

You get the idea. It’s exciting that two groups, MTV and Microsoft, are both latching on to the stuff we’re saying matters to us.

(P.S. I agree with Justin Timberlake. I love you MTV, for wanting to get your hands dirty, but please go back to your roots and play more music.)

That’s what they’re able to do in Beijing, China. Stare straight at the sun and not worry about the cumulative effects of ultraviolet radiation on their eyes. The smog is so consistently dense that high noon in their city often looks like what we’d see at dusk or dawn. Grays. Musky purples at best. They rarely get to experience the sharp sunlight that illuminates most days here in Colorado. The type of exposed sunlight that produces the rays that doctors warn us about.

I’ve never been there to experience the pollution, but I’ve heard this is the case and seen pictures for proof.

It’s not like they’re not aware of the fact that they consistently breathe in Zoolander’s black death. Beijing is hosting the 2008 Summer Olympics and, as I understand it, wants to put on a good face for the incoming media and public in general. Check out this article.

What also interests me is the way Chinese citizens in general seem to view their environmental responsibilities. The attitude (according to friends who live there) is this: the communist government pays specific workers to clean the city, so it is therefore not the role of every person to clean up after themselves. For example, you would never throw your used ketchup package away in a Chinese McDonald’s (it’s the job of the employee). And there’s no need to look for a trashcan on the streets –simply throw your coke can down because the government pays city workers to take care of it for you.

In my opinion, it seems like this mentality only serves to cripple the Chinese public. If everyone assumes that it is “somebody else’s” responsibility to clean, it will never become an innate priority for each person.

My friend Ben has spent the past year there teaching English and traveling. A group of us had dinner with him last week (he’s returned to the US for a quick vacation but plans to work as a graphic designer in Beijing for at least another year).

I asked him what he noticed most when he arrived back home to his family’s mountain cabin.

“My shadow,” he said.

His comment got me thinking: I guess I didn’t realize that no sun equals no shadow. I’ve never noticed my shadow before; at least I’ve never noticed being without a shadow. After thinking about it for a little while, I concurred with Ben that I’d miss mine too if it stopped trailing me suddenly. If nothing else, shadows help to tangibly confirm our existence, our matter, our substance at the cellular level. If we were transparent, there’d be nothing there to reflect the sun.

I wonder if the Chinese people ever secretly pinch themselves just to make sure.