The Obvious Order and Complexity of the Universe

Yesterday I attended a talk about the Hubble Space Telescope and God. I know this sounds like a strange combination, but it was very interesting. The talk was by a retired NASA engineer who headed the Hubble Project. The talk centered mainly around him showing us pictures taken from the Hubble Space Telescope and explaining about different space phenomena. But I am not going to go into that here. I want to talk about the two things that struck me when he tied the space phenomena back to God.

The first was about the Big Bang Theory. For those of you unfamiliar with the Big Bang Theory it goes something like this: The universe was created when a primeval atom exploded sending debris in every direction. This debris would later be the substance that would form the various galaxies, planets, stars, and other astral bodies in the universe. This NASA engineer theorized that it would be completely plausible to say that this "Big Bang" happened at the point in the Bible that coincides with Genesis 1:3. This verse states, "Then God said, 'Let there be light'; and there was light." In other words, the explosion and subsequent light given off by it was the light that God first created. God then goes on to form the Earth in verses 9-10. And later in this chapter (verses 14-19) it states that God creates "lights in the firmament of the heavens" and "two great lights: the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night." All of this could have been formed from the substances left over from the original explosion.

The second was about other life in space. I am by admission generally a non-believer about life on other planets. Most people consider it conceit to think that we are so important that we are the only life in the whole galaxy. I never thought about it as conceit so much as the Bible doesn't mention life on other planets. But seeing the pictures of other galaxies taken from Hubble got me to thinking. We may be the only life in this solar system, but even our puny solar system only comprises one arm of the Milky Way Galaxy. And beyond that there are at least thousands of galaxies in the universe. Who's to say there aren't habitable planets in those galaxies. Maybe those people have their own Bibles, containing their own histories. Maybe they are living existences similar to our own. Maybe at this very moment someone is writing a blog about life in other galaxies. Maybe the Bible doesn't say anything about them, because we don't need to know about them. Maybe it was concerned with showing us how to find salvation and become better Christians, rather than revealing all that God knows. Otherwise, why would God waste His time making all of those other galaxies and filling them with planets and stars?

That's right, you heard it here first! This self-proclaimed skeptic has changed his feathers. I am now pondering the possibilities. There is an obvious order and complexity to the universe that cannot be denied. So, maybe I was not being conceited...maybe I was living without the information that would open my eyes to the possibilities. Maybe I was just too busy to look beyond our solar system and see the big picture.

I would love to hear what you think about all of this. Especially those ideas that deal with the universe in relation to God.

A Mind of Their Own

Sometimes my fingers have a mind of their own. They don't seem to always type what I tell them to type. My mind is thinking something, and I am pretty sure I get the right message to my fingers. But then they go off and type something completely different.

Most times this is no big deal, as most people just look at it as a minor typo and move on. But occasionally my fingers write something really embarrassing or completely inappropriate. And sometimes they write things that completely change the meaning of what I was trying to say.

And you can't always rely on spell checker to catch these things, because my fingers are very sneaky about using actual words when they change things. It almost seems like they are trying to see if I am paying attention or maybe how much they can get away with. I end up triple reading everything I am writing to make sure they haven't slipped something in on me.

Backwards Toilet Paper

Can someone please explain to me why anyone would intentionally put the toilet paper roll on the dispenser backwards!? By backwards, I mean so that the paper rolls off the back instead of the front. I have pondered this mystery for long periods of time, trying to see it from a different perspective, and have yet to come up with any reason at all much less a good one.

Unrolling the paper from the dispenser only serves to cause the toilet paper to run along the wall. Static electricity almost always causes the paper to stick to the wall. Thus making it almost impossible to peel it off with your fingers. No matter how much you unroll it just simply slides down the wall.

Some may argue that you can alway unroll it the opposite direction, so that the end flips over the top first. But even this is not fullproof. If you should miss catching the end as it flips by, then just like that it heads straight for the wall again. It only compounds the frustration if you should have to endure this more than once, like say in-between "tears." (Which is even worse, since more than likely at that point you are not exactly in the most convenient position to be jacking with trying to catch the end as it flips by.)

All of this can be solved by simply turning the toilet paper roll around, so that unrolling it causes the paper to simply dangle in open space. There are no obstructions for the paper to stick on. And it is equally convenient no matter what position you find yourself in.

So, other than a complete lack of caring, can anyone tell me why anyone would put the toilet paper roll on backwards!?

The Official Royal Decree of Marriage, Part 2

Since my post on The Official Royal Decree of Marriage was so popular, esp. among the ladies, I thought I would follow up with a part two. The "Bill of Rights," if you will, to the Official Decree basically boils down to the following few parts. (Legal Disclaimer: Now keep in mind that this is a working document and things can be changed and added at a later time as the king sees fit.)

1.) The marriage will be full of double standards. Those things that the queen shall be held accountable for do not necessarily apply to the king as well. This is especially true if those things will cause the king more work or get him into trouble in any way. This rule will also apply to kids as the need arises.

2.) The rules are subject to change at any time. This will be enforced during those times when changing the rules will be advantageous to the king. Only the king is allowed to change the rules.

3.) No royal edicts are allowed to be questioned or changed after they have been sealed with the phrase, "So it shall be written, so it shall be done!" The exception to this comes, of course, in the case of #2 above.

Now while I have not been very successful in convincing my wife that this is the best way to rule a kingdom, I have every confidence that she will continue to be stubborn and hold out against the Official Royal Decree. I have even laid my foot down that this is not a discussion, but just the way it is going to be. She responded by laughing hysterically as she attempted to roll over my foot with the car. I think she is weakening, though, because every once in a while she actually lets me win an argument!

Behold the king!

Good Morning

I hate when people walk up to me first thing in the morning and just start talking business. How hard is it to say "good morning" before you start asking me to do things or asking me for something? Give me just a bit of common courtesy and maybe I will be more inclined to help you out. Otherwise, I feel like I am just a slave to do your bidding. I am not a human being. I don't have to be acknowledged. Well, who wants to be treated like that?!

It doesn't have to be a long conversation. Just two little words to pave the way to uglier things. They say that you should always start your day off on the right foot. Get your mind right and it will help the day go smoother. I think showing someone that you care just a little bit about them will go a long way to having a better day with them. We work enough throughout the day that I think we can spare a few seconds of kindness and decency.

The Flying Shoe

I have several strange and playful things that I say when I am faking being upset. Things like, “Do you want to take this inside!” Or, “Don’t make me come over there and slap myself!” Or, “Let’s go then! I can take you with both your arms tied behind your back!”

But the one I am probably most famous for is when I say, “Do I need to take off my shoe?!” My wife thinks this is really funny. She says that I only threaten with the shoe when it is something big. So, if I tell her that I almost took my shoe off, then she knows somebody must have really irritated me.

I think I started this after I heard an Eddie Murphy stand-up routine where he talked about his mama taking off her shoe and throwing it at her kids when they were acting up. He said that the shoe was kid-seeking. If they ran, then it flew after them. It could even fly around corners and get them. He said most times you didn't really get any warning. You might hear this whispering, swishing sound, but by then it was too late. And BAM! it would hit you.

So, if we are ever in a fight together, don't be surprised to see me leaning slightly to one side and holding a shoe!

Walking in the Rain

Yesterday evening I took the dog for a walk in the park. Right after we got out there it started raining. It was only a light rain, so we decided to keep going and just ride it out. The path through the park has trees that hang over most of the trail, so they blocked most of the rain from hitting us. All we really got was the large slow drops of water that would randomly fall from the leaves of the trees. It wasn't long before the rain picked up and even the trees couldn't completely block it from hitting us anymore. Getting wet was unavoidable at this point, so we decided to just keep walking.

Walking in the rain is one of those often overlooked beauties of life. You can feel the air getting cooler. You can smell an earthy freshness that comes from a world being cleansed. You can watch puddles form, and then watch raindrops splash into those puddles and then jump back up into the air. And you can look up into the sky and watch the rain fall. This was particularly fascinating yesterday since the sun was still shining and there were relatively few clouds in the sky above. The rain seemed to fall from the sky itself.

On days like this I like to tilt my head up and close my eyes and just feel the rain running in trickles down the sides of my face and through my hair. I like the soothing pattering that it makes as it bounces between the leaves of the trees or splatters onto the concrete. I like to watch people scurrying for cover, holding shirts, newspapers, or purses over their heads to help keep from getting wet.

On our walk we go past this little grill with an outside deck. Yesterday they had a live band performing outside. All along the deck little tables with giant umbrellas were scattered here and there with people huddling under the brightly-colored mushrooms, eating their dinner and listening to the band. The scene and the music added a certain ambiance to the evening that just sort of fit.

We completed our walk, making it back to the car at the exact moment when the rain finally stopped. The dog and I just stood there looking at each other, drenched in every aspect of the word, with a certain understanding that can only be summed up with the phrase, "It figures."

The Sliding Pretzel

The nice lady at work that cleans up after us slobs takes special pains to come by and clean my desk for me. She sprays this cleaner on it that is supposed to dust, polish, and repel future dust. But I have also noticed that is has the added effect of making my desk very slick. I set paper or CDs on it and they just start sliding around.

This gave me a bright idea one day. I wondered if it was slick enough for me to slide across it.

(Side Note: I was suddenly reminded of the first day my wife brought home satin sheets. She was trying to be sexy and romantic. So, doing my best job to add to the effect I decided to wear my silk boxers to bed that night. As I jumped into the bed in my most playful and debonair way, I started sliding across the sheets. It didn't take me long to realize that I wasn't going to stop. Ziiip! Right off the other side of the bed and off onto the floor. It is hard to be sexy when you are sprawled half on and half off the bed, folded like a pretzel between the bed and the wall. The moral of the story is that satin sheets and silk boxers don't mix.)

So, one day I got up the nerve to try sliding across the desk. I figured I would take the corner so I wouldn't have to go very far. It worked beautifully! I looked like the Dukes of Hazard sliding across the hood of the General Lee. On my way back to my desk, I won't lie to you, I was cocky. I decided to try it again. Only this time something went horribly wrong. I lost my balance and went shooting off the desk straight for my chair. As I slammed into the armrest feet first, the chair was so kind as to roll out of my way, and allow me to plummet to the floor.

When the nice lady came to clean my desk that day she found me laying half on and half off the desk, folded like a pretzel between the cubicle partition and my chair. The moral of the story is twofold. If you have a great idea like sliding across your desk, just forget about it and go back to work. Also, me and sliding across things don't mix.

Driving on the Wrong Side of the Car

I thought I would use the blog entry today to impart an interesting fact on you. Did you ever wonder why we drive on the right side of the road, but we sit in the left seat of the car? Until I heard the answer, I for one had never really noticed that this phenomenon was strange. I guess we grow up with a certain reality and really never question the oddness of it all.

Well, the answer is that we actually DID sit on the right side at one time. You have to go back all the way to the days of when we drove horse-drawn carriages and buckboards. (If you are interested in the difference between a carriage and a buckboard, I would be happy to entertain you with that answer as well. Throw in a wagon to the mix and you can have quite a discussion.) Men driving their carriages and buckboards down the street carried whips to prod their horses on. As they swung their whips out in an arc, they would unfortunately hit pedestrians walking down the sidewalks as well. To remedy this situation men started sitting on the left side of their vehicles so their whips wouldn't reach all the way to the walks.

The question you might ask now, which was the next one to pop into my mind, was why is it that we drive down the right side of the road and the English drive on the left? I have not researched it, but from my limited knowledge of history I would conjecture that it has something to do with the Revolutionary War. Early Americans were so eager to have nothing to do with Great Britain anymore that they strove to do things differently from their English cousins. So, if the English are going to drive on the left, then we shall drive on the right!

If anybody has different answers to these questions, then please feel free to voice your opinions here.

Division of Labor

C.D. was telling me about the division of labor that she and her husband have with the chores. I have to say that it makes me laugh, not because her husband’s only jobs are taking out the trash and mopping the bathroom floor, but because I have no division of labor in my house.

Ever since my wife moved to Missouri I have had to take over all of the chores in our place. This is a new experience for me since it is the first time I have ever lived alone. Before that I always lived with my parents, so we all had our assigned tasks and chores. Even in college I had roommates to divide the labor between. (Of course, truth be told, it wasn’t so much a formal division of labor as it was whoever got tired of seeing the mess and finally broke down and cleaned it up. I have to say that I was quite good at holding out longer than my roommates. I even got it down that I would intentionally only wash one bowl and one spoon to use every morning, so I didn’t have to do all of the dishes.)

After I got married my wife and I went through the typical mutually-agreed allotment of tasks. Which basically consisted of her telling me what my jobs were and me whining about how it cut into my “sitting around” time. I held out in the beginning, delaying the jobs to see if she would break and just do them herself like my roommates, but she would always pull the wildcard out on me. There were things I needed and wanted from my wife that I hadn’t previously needed or wanted from my roommates. Like food. Needless to say the strike didn’t last long, and I would be mumbling under my breath all the way out to the trash can.

But as I said before, now I have to do it all. I can’t leave it for someone else to do, because there is nobody else to do it. I tried just buying more dishes or underwear to delay having to clean, but eventually I ran out of space to put them all. So, now I cook, wash dishes, take out the trash, do the laundry, clean the place, buy the groceries, run the errands, pay the bills, and generally deal with any problems or other tasks that might come up. I am both wife and husband now, doing all the chores that both of us split before. Maybe I will be a better husband for my wife later on.

Until then I will just laugh at all of these men that complain about having to do two simple chores. They just don’t realize how good they really have it.

Seeing the Stars in a Banana

I had a banana that had spots that sort of looked like the night sky. The spots looked like a random arrangement of stars. They were dense and clustered. They were all shapes and sizes. Larger ones that looked like planets and moons. Surrounded by an endless assortment of smaller ones that filled the peel with a comforting banana light. If you looked hard enough you could even pick out constellations and patterns. I was mesmerized for several minutes, imagining I was flying through the stars.

Then I peeled back the yellow heavens and ate the banana within.

The Official Royal Decree of Marriage

I was explaining to my wife one day about the finer points of our relationship. I was telling her that the Official Royal Decree states that first and foremost I am the King of Our Domain. She tries to counter that she is the Queen of Our Domain, so we are equal. My reply to this is that she is the Queen by marriage only. She was a Princess when I met her and stayed a Princess after we were married until her requisite 2-year probationary period was over. Therefore, as a Queen by marriage only she is not entitled to as many votes as I am, and therefore we are not, in fact, equal.

This of course leads me to the second point of the Official Royal Decree. I have two and a half votes to her one vote in the Family Counsel. After exclaiming that that isn’t fair at all, she asks me why two and a half votes. To which I reply, “That way even if you get a friend to side with you, I can still veto the vote.”

This transitions us into the third point of the Official Royal Decree. For every child that is born to us I get another vote awarded to me in the Family Counsel. That way no matter how many children she gets to side with her on a given point, I will still hold absolute veto power.

Completely flabbergasted by this whole conversation she asks me when the Official Royal Decree was written, because she never agreed to it. To which I calmly reply that it was in the fine print of our marriage contract, and so she did, in fact, agree to it and should have gotten a lawyer to check the details before she signed it. As she profusely claims that it was not there, I look her straight in the eyes and ask her how she missed it since it was written in 0.02 font!

So it shall be written! So it shall be done!

European Toilet

We must have a European toilet in our bathroom at work. Just about every other toilet in American has the flushing lever on the left side of the toilet (as you are facing it). This one has it on the right! What the heck is that about? So, since there are countries in Europe where they drive on the other side of the road, I figured this toilet must have come from over there.

I thought a European toilet was a nice pun too. Get it? Yu'r-a-peein'. I know...old joke in a new context.

All New Episode...

Maybe somebody can explain this to me. A new show comes out on TV. They have the big premiere, maybe a two hour premiere show or something. And then during the next week you see advertisements for the show tauting "Tune in for an all new episode of..." That irritates me! It is the second episode of the show...I would hope it is new! Are they going to start panning off re-runs on us already?

Can anybody explain to me why I have to sit through this every single time...week after week of the entire first season?

The Man in the Photograph

My cousin shared with me an interesting point that he learned in one of his Philosophy classes. He said that technically we can’t look at a photograph of ourselves when we were younger and say that that is us. The basis for his statement is that we aren’t the same person now that we were then. Our personalities have changed. Our likes, dislikes, desires, knowledge, identity are all different. It is like that person is a complete stranger to us now. We have grown up and experienced life, and those experiences have shaped us into different people. So, technically the person in the photograph is not really the same person that is looking at it anymore.

Of course the flip-side to this statement can be argued as well. There are still things that are the same. For instance we are still made up of the same DNA. Supposedly our eyeballs are the same size from birth throughout our lives. There are certain inherent values that we are taught early in life that stay with us even as they shape and mold our identity and moral character. We still have the same family (If not adding to it.) and the same genealogical roots.

It seems the debate really boils down to whether you are viewing a person from their mental makeup or from their physical makeup. Is it the psyche that makes a person or the body? So, what do you think?

Sleeping in the Woods

While traveling this weekend, I happened to pass the Doubletree Hotel. My first thought was, "I wonder what happened to the Singletree Hotel. Did the Doubletree Hotel run them out of business?" For that matter if I started the Tripletree Hotel, then would people stay at my hotel instead of the Doubletree because they thought it was better? Would it only be a matter of time before someone started the Quadrupletree Hotel to put me out of business? If the number of trees is really that important to indicate the quality of your establishment, then why stop at three or four?! I should start a hotel called "The Woods." Then I would have an infinite number of trees. I would like to see someone top that!

My second thought was, "I wonder if the first rooms for this hotel were actually in trees. Otherwise why would you associate trees with a hotel? Was the first bed actually a hammock and that is why it is called Doubletree, because you had to have two trees to hold up the hammock?"

I can just see the weird looks someone would get for staying in my hotel. 'So, where are you staying tonight?' 'Oh, I thought I would just stay in The Woods.' 'Uh...okay. If you need to, you can just bum with us.' 'Oh, where are you at?' 'We're in the Doubletree.'

The Exit Ramp to Insanity

Have you ever gotten off the freeway on one exit ramp and then immediately gotten back on it at the next entrance ramp? I am not talking about because you picked the wrong exit and realized you had to go further. I am talking about doing it just because. Just because deep down you want to be different. Just because on some level you want the passengers in your car to question your sanity. Just because you have thought about it and always wanted to know what it felt like to just cast aside your inhibitions, to just travel beyond the unwritten rules of normal behavior, and do something completely crazy and yet totally harmless.

The Statue of an Owl

B.M. has a statue of an owl in his office now. The owl has notoriously been used throughout history as a symbol of wisdom and intelligence. I wonder if he is trying to send a message to the rest of the people in the office. Something along the lines that he is smarter than the rest of us. That we aren’t worthy to even touch the air that touches the aura of his clothing. That he is a god among men, imparted with such a higher intellect that we couldn’t even possibly begin to understand how fortunate and yet trying it is to be him. That he only works this job to hide his greatness among the ordinary and mundane.

He would never outwardly thrust that belief on anyone, but maybe it is just a quiet knowledge that he holds to himself. Maybe the owl statue is his way of quietly laughing at all of us lesser mortals. Then again, maybe he just likes owls.

Unseen Laws of Restraint

I think people are funny. They will walk around something in their way hundreds of times, but never take a moment to just move it to the side. There is an area at work where we keep the common office tools, like the paper cutter and hole puncher. During the process of someone getting new furniture, a large rectangular table was deposited right in front of this area. A small gap was left to allow someone to be able to slide through and thus get to the tools behind.

I must admit that I am guilty of sliding through this gap three or four times before I became highly agitated. I then stopped and assessed the situation. After doing some mental calculations, I realized that the table could be rotated ninety degrees and still fit in the space. This would also open up the area to the tools, so nobody would have to slide through anymore. It took me all of twenty seconds to rectify this problem, but this table has been sitting here like that for months. Countless people have slid through that gap multiple times and nobody even once thought to just move the table.

It is almost as if people feel the need to unconsciously adhere to these unwritten laws of the environment. Laws that cannot be broken. Laws like always riding on an elevator facing the door, or never walking up a moving escalator, or walking around an obstacle rather than just moving it out of the way. People will actually expel more energy, walk further, waste more time following these “laws” than they would just simply changing the environment. They seem to overlook the simple, more obvious solutions to problems in favor of adhering to these un-imposed restraints.

I once received an e-mail about testing for admission into an insane asylum that went like this:

During a visit to an insane asylum, a visitor asked the Director what were the criteria defining whether or not a patient should be institutionalized.

"Well," said the Director, "One test is that we fill up a bathtub and offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her to empty the bathtub."

"Oh, I understand," said the visitor. "A normal person would use the bucket because it is bigger than the teaspoon or the teacup."

"Well, no," said the Director, "A normal person would pull the plug. Do you want a room with or without a view?"

A Lifetime to Decide What to Eat

I was talking to C.D. today about not liking to make a decision about where I go out to eat with my wife. My wife asks me and I always start out by saying, “well, what do you want?” She then proceeds to give me suggestions which I promptly shoot down. She complains that I need to either be more decisive or less picky. So, C.D.’s theory is that we haven’t spent enough time together to have figured out our likes and dislikes as a married couple. I said that we have been married for over 3 years! She said, “but how much of that time have you actually spent together?”

So overachiever that I am, I decided to break out the math and do a little figuring. Okay so I figured that from the day after our second wedding until the day she moved to Missouri we were married a total of 2 years, 8 months, and 13 days. So that is the starting point for how much time we have spent together.

In an ideal situation, meaning we were together every possible conceivable moment, we would spend about 6 hours together every day during the week. That is accounting for 8 hours of sleeping, 9 hours of being at work, and 1 hour of traveling to and from work. (I understand those numbers are ridiculous, but in an ideal world we would all find time to get 8 hours of sleep and it wouldn’t take us any longer than 30 minutes to get to work in the morning. So work with me here.) So 6 hours of possible time to get to know each other. Let’s say that we spend the entire weekend together. So on Saturday and Sunday we would spend 16 hours a day together, removing only sleep time. Now we have the framework to figure this thing out.

A whole lot of number crunching later leaves us with 1 year, 0 months, 21 days of actual time together over the course of that 2 year, 8 month, 13 day span. That isn’t even half the time we have been married. So, needless to say we are virtually still newlyweds. At this rate it will take us the rest of our lives just to decide what to eat!

Mesmerized By Green

It is humorous to me that people have such a lack of ability to drive in the mornings. Either they are in absolutely no hurry at all, unlike myself, or they just don’t care. I find myself driving down a road with numerous stoplights. Everyone knows that when you are in a hurry that the stoplights are entirely too short, and this is precisely how I usually find them. This morning I noticed something different, though. I watched the lights turn green and the people at the front of the lines just sat there, presumably mesmerized by the green light. I can just picture them eyes transfixed, mouth agape, saying, “Look at the pretty colors.” It takes the yellow light to break the tracker beam and release this phantom hold it has on them. Then they gun it through the intersection. Of course the person behind them guns it through the red so they don’t have to wait another light cycle, and we have just experienced two people get through a green light.

So, since there were 18 people in front of me and everyone seems to fall prey to the same phenomenon, eight cycles later I finally make it through the light. I then get to the next light and we start it all over again. Green light. “Look at the pretty colors.” Yellow light. Gun it. Red light. Gun it. Repeat.

The Other-Handed Smoker

There are several people at work that smoke. I have stood outside while they were smoking and watched them go through the same routines every day. Some take out the cigarette and tap it on the box. Some flip over a certain cigarette in every new pack. They all hold the cigarette exactly the same every time and with exactly the same hand.

I wonder what would happen if they were to switch hands one day. Would they not be able to find their mouths? Would they end up sticking the cigarette up their nose or in their ear? Would the changing of this routine be completely catastrophic to their ability to smoke a cigarette with any kind of dignity?

Would it be like when I hurt my hand? I had a hard time trying to do even the simplest things like brushing my teeth. The motion was so foreign to my hand that I found myself holding my hand still and just moving my head. I finally got so frustrated with that that I ended up laying the toothbrush on the sink and just moving my teeth back and forth over it. I wonder if switching smoking hands is kind of like that.

The Three Rules of Conversation

Have you ever been having a conversation with someone and been annoyed at something they were doing? (Like someone’s eyelids drooping while you are talking.) And whatever that thing is it makes you want to stop talking to that person and just walk away? I have a pet-peeve, if you will, called the “The Three Rules of Conversation.” I tend to get annoyed and stop talking to someone if any of these things are abused during a conversation. In case you ever talk to me, I thought I would forewarn you. These are in no order of importance since I value them all equally offensive.

1.) I don’t like to be interrupted. I understand that this is sometimes unavoidable as you may need to ask a question of clarification, point out something on the side of the road that will be gone in a matter of seconds, or state some fact before the direction of the conversation has drifted too far away for the comment to have meaning anymore. But as a rule I hate to be interrupted.

2.) I don’t like to repeat myself. I understand that there are exceptions to this as well, like when the person you are talking to is hard of hearing or the venue is noisy. But as a rule this just comes off as whatever I was saying wasn’t important enough for you to be really paying attention to in the first place.

3.) I want your undivided attention. If it is important enough for me to say it, then it should be important enough for you to REALLY listen to it. I want eye contact. I don’t want you paying attention to everything else going on around us. If you agreed to go out with me, then be there with ME and not everyone else. I want to feel that you are truly interested in what I have to say and that you would drop everything to hear it. (Even if this isn’t true in reality, it is good to feel that way.) This is probably the biggest cause of irritation for me since it usually leads to me having to repeat myself and being interrupted so someone can ask me to repeat myself.

I am sure everyone has these kind of pet peeves. I would be interested to hear what irritates you in a conversation. Then maybe I can avoid doing them to you when we talk!

Technologically Challenged

Last weekend I snapped my phone in half, yes that is what I said, I snapped the phone into two complete pieces. So, I had to get a new one. I am still not used to the new one yet. For instance the phone came with a camera on it. Apparently there is a button to take pictures on the outside of the phone. While I was trying to adjust the volume, I apparently pushed this button and took a picture of my crotch. Then while I was trying to delete the picture I think I accidentally sent it to my grandmother! I can just imagine her face when she gets that message. I hope she doesn’t recognize that it is me.

The Mannequin

I was thinking the other day that it would be cool to get one of those department store mannequins for the trailer. I could change its clothes every day, move it around to different places, and talk to it. That way it won't seem like I am so alone out there. It could also be a way of justifying eating twice as much as I should!

The Pack Mule Service

I was shopping for clothes with my Mom last weekend. As I walked around the store loaded down with the clothes she wanted to try on and buy, I couldn't help but wonder why department stores don't offer you a basket or something to shop with. Are they trying to reduce the amount of stuff you go home with?

Whatever their motivation it almost forces you to have to go shopping with someone else. You need someone to hold your stuff so you have free hands to dig through the clothes for more stuff. It is funny how many couples I saw doing the same thing. The guy was tagging along behind his wife or girlfriend, toting her clothes around with a completely bored expression on his face. Occasionally, you would get the "newbie" who would say something stupid like, "Don't you have enough stuff already?" or "How much is all of this going to cost?" or "How much longer are you going to be?" Which every guy knows only serves to make the woman pick up more stuff, spend more money, and stay in the store longer. Amateurs.

Lucky for me that I actually enjoy shopping, so I can stand around and laugh at their miserable states. I have found that to truly enjoy shopping you have to get involved in the process. You have to have and give your opinion about styles and colors. And you can't just say whatever it will take to get you out of the store faster. You have to have well-thought-out, good suggestions. In a sense, you have to care. In the end you might actually enjoy shopping too, and the person you are with will love you all the more for it.

The Dried-Up White Grapes

You know, ever since I was a kid I have wondered why my fingers and toes get pruny if I sit in the shower or bath too long. I always thought it was funny that they would take on a "dried out" look after being in the water for too long! And why do they call it pruny? Why not raisiny? I know for one that my fingers look more like dried-up white grapes than purple prunes.

Well, in case you want to know the medical reason for this phenomenon I have hunted down the answer for you:

"Our skin has a kind of waterproof oil on it called sebum. That's why water rolls right off your skin in the bath or shower. If you spend too much time in the water, the sebum washes away and guess what? You're not so waterproof anymore. Your skin soaks up the water causing it to swell in some places which makes it look wrinkly. Now, this only happens on your toes and fingers because they don't have any hair. The hair follicles on the rest of your body are able to keep making enough sebum so it doesn't wash away."

- Contributed by Dr. Lisa Thornton http://healthcorner.walgreens.com/display/128.htm

The Whisper in My Ear

I have had several people at work question my choice of careers lately. I am trying to figure out if they really think I would be better suited for something else, or if they are just tired of working with me and want me to move on to other things. I can only hope that they have my best interests at heart and just want me to be happy. Maybe they see something in me that screams, "I'M UNHAPPY!"

I probably would have just dismissed these comments if I hadn't been feeling a strong nagging pull about my writing. For some reason I have had this overwhelming feeling that something big is going to come from it. I can only imagine that it is God telling me that He will work great miracles through me. It has made me more excited and motivated to work harder on my book, and at the same time more excited to see what God wants me to say.

For the first time in my life I am taking my writing seriously and starting to wonder if my future won't end up in writing. For the first time in my life I am giving it a real chance. I am not going to quit my day job until something solid comes of it, but at least now I am honestly giving that avenue a chance to intersect my life.

I can't help but feel that there are signs surrounding me...speaking to me. And for some reason I am just too hard-headed to listen. I guess I never gave myself enough credit. I never considered my writing that great that anybody else would want to read it. I never thought anything would ever come of it. Now I am wondering if I might have been wrong.

The Goat

I have a fleece pullover that I got who knows where. I am sure it was a gift from someone. I affectionately refer to it as "The Goat" which really doesn't make sense since fleece is actually from sheep. I guess I call it that because it is a gray fleece, which for some reason always reminds me of goats.

My wife liked my Goat so much that she kept stealing it and wearing it. Which is not such a big deal except that I was freezing to death in the process. So, I bought her her own Goat. Hers is black, though, so I guess it is of the mountain goat variety or something.

Out With the Old...In With the Made-up

Does anyone else get tired of the same old words, the same old clichés? Do you end up making up your own words and clichés just to be more exciting? Well, I have been known to do this on occasion. I like to keep people on their toes; to make them really have to listen to what I say. I like when they get that look on their face of "did he really just say what I think he said?!"

I really like to make up new words or combinations of words. Something like "nobody appreciates the depths of my 'funnilarity'." Or “other than that ‘Englishical’ disaster was the story okay?” Whenever I am questioned on a word that I use, I simply state that it comes from "The Me Dictionary of Made-Up Words."

I like to come up with new twists on old clichés as well. Something like "it is just dust under the lamp" instead of "it is just water under the bridge." Or "I like to lick the envelope" instead of "I like to push the envelope." I think it gives a bit of spice to life...or at least a whole lot of funny looks.

Residual Consciousness

I am really stuck on the brain this week. I am not sure why. I think it is fascinating how your dreams can be guided by things that happen to you during the day. Sort of like a bit of residual consciousness is left over, seeping into your unconscious thoughts. People you saw or talked to suddenly show up in your dreams. Conversations you had, movies you watched, things you read, games you played all can make appearances in them. D.H. tells stories of F.H. flailing in bed fighting battles and wars that he had started in his computer games earlier that night. My wife claims I audibly re-sample all of the wonderful food I ate during the day.

I think the other side is fascinating too. How people have claimed that they have dreamed about someone they haven't seen in years and then have met them the next day. Or how people describe accidents and crimes they have viewed in their dreams that actually take place later. Are these little messages from God? Are people making things happen with their thoughts? Is it just coincidence?

The Bible talks about God talking to people in their dreams...informing them, warning them...so I am going to go with that theory. But it is still interesting to ponder.

A Need for Mindless Detachment

Have you ever stuck your tongue out at the ceiling? What a way to start a blog, huh? Well, I was just sitting here in my chair at work with my head back against the chair and sticking my tongue out at the ceiling. Who knows what possesses people to do weird things like that. Boredom. A need for mindless detachment. Missing a few screws upstairs. I know my coworkers must think I have experienced that last one.

It isn’t that. I assure you, I am perfectly sane. I guess sometimes I feel the need to do something different, and I don’t care what anybody thinks or whether they can understand me. Sometimes I don’t always want to do what the world thinks is “proper” behavior. I don’t feel the need to do anything illegal...just something “weird.”

Forgive me, I must sign off now. I feel an uncontrollable urge to go running by C.D.’s office.

The Reality of the Mind

The mind is a powerful thing. Without the brain’s interpretation of things we would basically have no sensations at all. No pain. No pleasure. For instance, think about a time when you got a cut and never noticed it. Then someone points out to you that you are bleeding or something and suddenly the cut starts to hurt. Why is that? Basically because now your brain is involved. It is sending signals saying something like, "Ooh, I bet that hurts!" And then suddenly it does just that.

So, my question is this...if an action can trigger a response from your brain which triggers a certain sensation, then can the brain be forced to trigger the sensation without the action? For instance, could you convince your brain that you are getting a massage and start to feel your muscles relax and the total release of pleasure associated with it? Could just the very thought of a sexual act cause your body to have the physical consequences normally associated with it?

I think science has a term for the last one at least and it is called "nocturnal emissions," or "wet dreams." A dream which is by definition "a series of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations occurring involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep" is totally in your brain. And yet it has the power to cause the same physical consequences of a sexual act.

So what other sensations do you think we could trigger just by convincing our brain that something is actually happening? Maybe that is why certain hallucinations seem so real to people. In their minds they are convinced that it is real and so their brain is actually making it so to them. It is almost as if they are altering reality just by thinking it.

Which leads to another thought altogether. If reality exists only by the interpretation of things by the brain, then does anything truly exist? It is like that old question, "If a trees falls in the forest and nobody is there to hear it, then does it make a sound?" I had a Psychology teacher tell me the answer was "No," because for sound to exist it must be interpreted. Otherwise it is just waves. What if reality were the same way? For reality to exist is must be interpreted.

Does that mean that reality is only in our minds?

Disassociative Personality Disorder?

Someone made a hurtful comment to me today and I was feeling extremely unloved. I needed a hug, but there was nobody to give me one. I was forced to give myself one. Are you hearing me here? I had to give myself a hug...myself. That is just wrong. However, I did feel better afterward.

I learned something ugly about myself too. I am apparently clingy. Now I want hugs from myself all the time. It is getting a bit oppressive. Frankly, I am getting a bit fed up with myself. I haven't told myself yet, but I am thinking of breaking it off with myself tonight over dinner. It is just sad that it had to come to this. We could have been something beautiful together.

I will keep you posted on how it goes.

Is It a Lie?

If you tell someone something that isn’t true but you believe it to be true, is it a lie?

The noun definition of a lie is “a statement that deviates from or perverts the truth.” But the verb definition is “to tell an untruth; pretend with intent to deceive.” The noun definition indicates that the answer to my original question is yes because a falsehood is a lie no matter your beliefs or intent. But the verb definition takes into account your intentions, indicating that you must intend to deceive.

So which is the right answer?

Mrs. Bradley

I had an English teacher in high school named Miss Morton. (Of course she later became Mrs. Bradley when that lucky man, Mr. Bradley, succeeded in marrying her.) She was perhaps the greatest teacher I have ever had. She made me enjoy literature, and reading, and really digging deeply into the meanings of books. She was smart, and funny, and she had a radical teaching style that really connected with her students. For instance when we were talking about Kafka’s “Metamorphosis,” she brought in coffee and hot chocolate, made us form our desks into a circle, and we had a “coffee shop” discussion of the book. Or when we studied Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales,” she made us each select one of the story tellers, dress up like them, and retell their tale to the whole class. Some of us even put on skits to act out the tale…which was more effective on some of the tales. When we studied iambic pentameter, she made us write a poem in “Olde English” using the technique of iambic pentameter.

I could go on and on, but the point is that she was a wonderful teacher and person. And yet the fondest memory I have of her was what she named her cat. He was named “kç” as in k (kay) ç (sah-dee-ah). I thought it was such an “English teacher” way of spelling “quesadilla” and it fit Miss Morton perfectly. Wherever you are out there, Miss Morton…well, Mrs. Bradley now…I hope you are doing well. I hope you are happy, and that you know how much of an impact you had on my life. Thank you for being you.

Megabyte, the Male Dancer

As I was leaving work yesterday, I told C.D. that I was bummed about having to go to work at my second job. Stunned she asked in amazement what my second job was, having never heard about it and wondering what kind of friend wouldn’t know about my second job. I hung my head and scuffed the toe of my shoe on the concrete, as I am known to do, and told her that it was too demeaning to talk about. She said that I couldn’t stop there because now I had her intrigued. So, I looked around to make sure nobody was listening and told her that I was a dancer at the “Dirty Sock,” a strip club on the outskirts of town.

She laughed and said that was a gentleman’s club. The only dancers there were women. I said that Wednesday is “Ladies Night” and they have men dancing on that day. For the first time I saw doubt and wonder cross her face, trying to calculate the chances that this was true.

She said, “Are you kidding me?” To which I replied, “I had to earn a little extra money to help put my wife through college. The move from my last job to this one forced me to take a pay cut and I needed to supplement my income. I hate it but I make good money, and I only have to work one night a week. It is just so demeaning. I feel so dirty having to do it.”

I could still tell there was a strand of doubt running across her mind. She smiled and said, “Okay then what is your character / costume?” Without hesitation I answered, “A computer geek. It is what I know. I have the thick glasses, pocket protector, and everything. My music is ‘I’m Too Sexy’.”

At around 6 that night she called me to tell me something and asked if she was interrupting my dancing, still trying to catch me in a lie. I calmly said that it was okay because I didn’t go on until 7. Then this morning she asked me how much money I made last night. To which I immediately turned bright red and said that that information was personal and I really didn’t want to discuss it.

She may try to act like she is confident that there is no way I am a dancer, but I secretly think she still wonders. Could it be possible that this seemingly unadventurous, nice, clean guy really lives a double life? Could there be a world out there on Wednesday nights that I just never found out about? I know his wife is in college and he had to take a pay cut, so is it possible that he is really forced to such extremes to survive?

Well, now I bet you are wondering too.

Test: Are You the Biggest Moron?

I was filling out a form today for government security and background information and was stumped by a question under the foreign associations section. The question went like this, "Have you ever been an officer or a member or made a contribution to an organization dedicated to the violent overthrow of the United States Government and which engages in illegal activities to that end, knowing that the organization engages in such activities with the specific intent to further such activities?"

I wasn't stumped by what my answer would be, but because I wondered who in their right mind would answer "Yes" to this question! If you are stupid enough to answer "Yes," they even ask you to give further details to explain. Is this for real!? Does the government use this as another way to track down terrorists? If so, how many do they actually catch by this method? Is this a case of "the best way to keep something safe is to hide it in plain sight?"

The People at the Sermon on the Mount

I read the story of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount and I can’t help but wonder what the perspective of the people listening was. Were they all enthralled and on the edge of their seats? Did some of them start to nod off? Did some of them find their minds wandering?

Did they dress up or just come in their common clothes? Did they take their sandals off to get comfortable? Did they wear hats or something to keep the sun out of their eyes?

Could they all hear or did the message have to be relayed back to them? Was the message the same when it reached the back or was it kind of like that game of “telephone” that we played as kids where the message changes with each retelling?

Did they bring their little kids? Did the kids sit and listen or did they bring toys to play with? Did they walk around and talk to people or play with each other?

How many other people brought food besides the boy with his fish and bread? Did they eat it or partake of the Lord’s bounty?

Did they sit, stand, or kneel? Was the ground uncomfortable? Did they fidget trying to get comfortable? Was it dry, moist, or wet?

Did they open with a prayer? Did anyone sing hymns? Did anyone walk the aisle at the end?

I wonder how close to our own church services it was. I wonder if those people acted the same way I have seen people acting in church today.

The Purse Blueprint

C.D. bought a new purse over the weekend. She was so excited about it and couldn’t stop telling me about all the cool features it had. The thing she was most excited about was the large number of pockets to put things in. So, as she is showing off the purse she starts looking for her glasses. She searches and searches but can’t find them in the purse anywhere. As she is visibly frustrated at having lost them already, I comment that maybe she needs a blueprint for her purse…sort of categorizing what is in each pocket. She said that would be great and she could keep it in her purse and pull it out when she has lost something. I said that if she puts it in her purse, then she just may very well lose the blueprint too. Then she would need a blueprint to find the blueprint!

Side Bar: My Dad lost his glasses once, searched everywhere for them. I finally asked him what he was looking for and he told me his glasses. I looked right at him and calmly replied, "Do you mean the ones on your head?"

Calling Yourself on the Phone

C.D. and J.P. were talking at lunch about taking pictures of each other to put in their phones. That way, for example, when J.P. calls C.D. his picture will pop up and she will know it is him. Think of it as a fancy caller ID for cell phones.

As I sat there and listened to them, it occurred to me how weird it would be to get a call on your cell phone, to look down, and see your own picture staring back at you. I wonder…would I have the courage to answer?

The Last Octopus

I tried octopus once in Greece. We went to a really nice seafood restaurant, the kind of restaurant where parts of the fish are still on it when the meal comes out. You know like cooked fish with the head and tail still on it. Well, one of the dishes that was served was octopus tentacles. I thought it looked safe, so I cut me off a piece and ate it. On the way down one of the suction cups…well…sucked to the inside of my throat. So, there I am choking on this octopus tentacle, and I can’t get it to go up or down. That stupid suction cup just wouldn’t let go. I started to panic, and I broke into a sweat. I just knew I was going to have to be driven to the emergency room to have it removed. Chalk up yet another freak accident that happened to me in my lifetime. I started shoving all kinds of things down my throat in an attempt to dislodge it…bread, fish, shrimp, anything. I was too embarrassed to admit what was happening, but then again nobody was looking my way anyway. Most likely I would have just ended up turning blue before anyone noticed something was wrong. My manly pride told myself that even that was preferable to admitting that I had been outsmarted by an octopus suction cup. When it finally broke free, I gasped a huge breath and vowed then and there never to eat octopus again. Stupid suction cup.

The Color of the Sky

I have had several people comment about the posts on my blog. There are several variations but the general idea is usually, “Where do you come up with this stuff? It is so random and weird.” A guy in school used to say the same thing about me, but he always phrased it as, “What color is the sky in your world because you are obviously seeing something different from us?” I would calmly reply, “Red.”

I prefer to think of myself as living in a different world from everyone else. A world where my posts are perfectly normal and everyone else’s thinking is weird.

The Phantom Wife

I have been at this job for four months now. In all that time my wife has failed to make an appearance here. I am sure that everyone here is starting to wonder if she really exists at all. They are probably thinking that I made her up to fit in and be cool. That could explain the pictures that I have of only her on my desk…never us together. And the stories I spin of three weddings in two countries is a bit far-fetched to believe. I mean, really, who gets married three times? My wedding ring doesn’t even look like a typical wedding ring, and even if it did I could have just bought it to make the story more believable. And everything is explained so perfectly how she is off doing a PhD in another state, she could be there a while, she is too busy to take vacations.

I am sure people want to believe me, but after so long I sense they are starting to wonder if I am not just the best liar they have ever met. Perhaps they wonder if I didn’t fabricate my whole life. Can anything I say be believed?

Typing With Underwear

I was talking to C.D. today about learning to type. She is still one of those hen-pecker typists. I was telling her about the first typing class I took in grade school. In order to keep us from looking at the keys on the computer the teacher decided to cover them up. The question is how do you cover the keys and still allow room for the students to be able to get their hands on the keys to type?

Well, some intelligent person came up with the bright idea to use men’s boxer shorts…putting the waist around the keyboard and allowing the students to stick their hands up the legs to type. I have to admit that it was pretty successful until some inventive student figured out that he could look through the opening in the crotch and see the keyboard. The idea spread like wildfire and the next thing you know everyone is holding the crotch flap open with their thumbs and henpecking their way through the class.

For every great idea you can find someone that can find a way to abuse its power.

Tai-Bo in Small Places

I had the big idea to get in shape so I decided to get me a Tai-Bo DVD. That way I could embarrass myself in my own home. I really enjoyed the setup of the moves and the intensity of the workout. I actually had fun working out…for a while. I soon learned the difficulties of doing such space-intensive exercises in such a space-deficient location.

It isn’t so fun when you kick the side of the entertainment system or punch an unsuspecting lamp. It is downright painful when you get your leg tangled up in a dining room chair, thanks to a wayward front kick, or hit your head on a moving ceiling fan trying to get some height on your spinning roundhouse kick. My wife lost more than one glass figurine when they toppled off the top of a bookcase and smashed to the floor. They were unfortunately dislodged when I slammed into the bookcase, having lost my balance on a combination move. However, I think the low point of the whole experience had to be when I flipped myself over the arm of the couch and landed head-first on the tile floor…twice.

Needless to say that after I regained consciousness I promptly destroyed that DVD so it could never do harm again!

The Mysterious Meeting

Yesterday I went to C & J’s Barbeque to meet someone for lunch. I just wish I had known who I was supposed to meet. I kept walking around the whole time asking everyone if they were the one. I got a lot of “what is wrong with you, weirdo” looks, but I made a few friends too. Not to mention that I was able to snag a few pickles from peoples’ plates while I was talking to them. So, I guess you could say I sort of ate with everyone in the restaurant. When I finally figured out who I was supposed to eat with it was time for me to go back to work. I should probably try to plan things better in the future.

Stalked by a Killer Crawfish

Yesterday after the rain the streets in my trailer park were flooded. As I trudged through the shallowest portions of the “lake” to the garbage dumpster, I came across a small animal shooting through the water. I stopped long enough to see what looked like a miniature lobster swimming across the street. I guess the large amount of rain had forced the crawfish out of his muddy burrows to the surface. I didn’t want the poor thing to get caught, and possibly killed, in the middle of the street so I tried directing his swimming back toward the grass. Unfortunately, he got caught in a current by the gutter and started tumbling swiftly down the street. I lost sight of him as he barrel-rolled through the water off into oblivion.

I didn’t give it another thought until I was driving to work this morning. As I reached the end of the street there sitting in the middle of the road was a crawfish. It is hard to say, but he looked just like the crawfish I had seen yesterday. Could he be stalking me? Could he be mad at me for sending him into the furious rapids of the “river” by the gutter? He DID have an evil glint in his eye as he shook his tiny pincer in my direction. Shall I be attacked in my sleep one night, snuffed out by that same tiny pincer holding my nostrils closed? Or was it my imagination fueled by my unconscious guilt? If this is my last blog post, then you will have your answer. Someone please give the following picture to the police so they have a composite of the killer.

A Single Moment of Patheticism

Do you know a single defining moment when you realize that you are completely pathetic? Well, I would like to share one with you. I was in the bathroom washing my hands. I dried off on the paper towel, thoroughly getting every nook, every cranny – because I am obsessive like that – and then wadded the paper towel up. Now in the bathroom the trash can was only about two inches from my feet. Acting all cool like I was some basketball superstar I go to do my best “Air” Jordan impression, attempting to slam the paper towel in the trash can only to miss. All I could do was watch in horror as it splatted against the floor six inches wide right.

How is that possible? How do you miss by six inches when you were only two inches away to begin with? That means that it had to travel…let’s see…well…carry the one…almost eight inches to go the two inches I intended in the first place. The only thing worse than that is when you do something this pathetic and someone is watching.

I know you all have stories like that, so let’s hear your best pathetic moments.

Raindrop Lullabies

It is raining hard today. The drops are so big that it sounds like a hundred little kids running on the roof, or maybe a theater erupting in ovation after a grand symphonic or theatrical performance. The clouds are so thick that they have blocked out the sun and cast the world outside into an unnatural darkness. Thunder rumbles across the sky in slow, deep tones, announcing the presence of a great storm.

It is a great day to be home, sitting by the window, and reading a book. The rain lulling you into a peaceful slumber, making your eyes heavier with each passing moment. You fight it determined to keep reading, but slowly, slowly you give in and let the rhythmic lullabies of the rain pull you into a world of dreams. Your head tilts to rest gently on the window. You can feel the cool glass pressed against your cheek and the subtle vibrations as the raindrops hit the window outside. Your half-read book drops to the floor as your fingers slowly relax and release their hold. You unconsciously pull your knees up to your chest, wrap your warm blanket around you, and drift into a wonderful sleep.

Fruit Fly Disorder

I came across an interesting blog post this morning. It is perhaps the best definition of what I affectionately call my Fruit Fly Disorder (being that I have the attention span of a fruit fly) that I have ever come across. Here is the post:

“Lack of Focus

Does anyone else out there suffer from a lack of focus? That seems to be my main hurdle right now, personally and professionally. I am interested in almost everything, which turns out to be my gift and my curse (props to Jay-Z and Peter Parker). I start on many things, but finish few. I feel like the creative equivalent of the Chicago Cubs - I start out strong but by the end everyone wonders what the hell happened.

I don't remember being this way when I was a kid. I would start a project and spend hours on it, concentrating each night until I got it done. I made cardboard spaceships for my Transformers, drew hundreds of dinosaurs on rolls of newsprint, and wrote short stories by the binder.

Of course, I also had zero responsibility and no significant distractions. Today my free time after work is split among working out, cleaning, fixing meals, etc. Jessica and I also had odd work schedules sometimes, and so our time together can get pretty erratic.

I'm also still searching for that “one thing” that I love to do. I would love nothing more than to strive for perfection in some arena, but I have no idea what that is. Writing is my strongest suit, but I love the visual aspects of design and film and would like to delve into those deeper. Without a clear vision, though, it's hard to get started. My ideas are all dressed up with no place to go. To quote Filter's “Best Things” – ‘I've got a green light yeah, but I'm going nowhere.’”


To read the entire blog, go here:
http://www.garmana.com/blogs/mark/index.php

Lunch with Friends

I was at lunch today with some friends. One of the guys had on a shirt that said “Athletic Supporter” on it. It was supposed to indicate that he had supported the athletics program either with his time or with his money. I just had to laugh at the dual meaning it could have.

We got to talking at lunch about watching movies at the theater for the “big screen” effect and the awesome sound system. One of the guys at the table piped up and started bragging about his twelve speaker, theater quality, surround sound system at his house. He said it would blow your hair back. Then he said that he just wished he had a better television. Come to find out he has the system hooked up to a dinky, 10-inch TV. So much for bragging rights.

The Lady in My Picture Frame

I have several pictures of my wife on my desk at the office. C.D. commented that there were none of my wife and I together. She said that it almost looked like I was just stalking this innocent lady. I told her that I really didn’t know who the lady was. I just kept buying these frames with the same model in them because I thought she was pretty.

Old Downtown Bryan

I took a walk through old downtown Bryan yesterday. I didn’t have anything especially to do at lunch and it was a beautiful day outside. So, I got a portable sandwich and set off on my trek. They are currently in the process of revitalizing old downtown, but the old, quaint feel of the buildings and surroundings is still prevalent. There are such a myriad of little shops lined along the streets from furniture places to restaurants to art galleries to guitar shops. Each shop is different. Each has its own feel. In all the years I have been in this area I have never taken the time to just admire the beauty of old downtown Bryan.

One of My Greatest Accomplishments

One of my greatest accomplishments was finding and marrying my wife. Being her husband has taught me responsibility, patience, love, planning and organization, and how to consider and care for another person's feelings.

Of course it has also made me fatter, forced me to grow up, and reduced my ability to decide on places to eat out as well.

Colliding Birds

C.D. was telling me that she and her husband agree on just about everything. I told her that she is the prime example of “birds of a feather flock together.” But that doesn’t apply to my wife and me. No, we are the prime example of “opposites attract.”

About the only thing we can really agree on is that Rocky Road ice cream is good.

What Turns on My Nose

It is Spring and there are a million things blooming…a million scents in the air. So it only seems natural that I would start thinking about scents I like and scents I don’t. I decided to grace you with a list of scents I like.

1. Baking cookies
2. Laundry right out of the dryer
3. Potpourried carpets
4. The smell of the air near the sea
5. Fresh cut cedar
6. Fresh baked bread
7. Cooking hamburgers
8. Willow trees
9. Sweat and perfume
10. Shampooed hair when someone tosses their hair
11. Leather
12. The smell of the air during or right after a lightning storm
13. Matches right after they are blown out
14. Bacon
15. Cinnamon buns

I would be curious to know what turns on other people’s olfactory mechanisms. So, post a comment and share what scents you like.

Oscar the Tempermental Server

I was fascinated today to learn that our servers up here at work have a theme. Apparently we are sporting the solar system theme. We have machines with names like MARS or EARTH. It is funny to me how people interject organization and groupings onto totally unrelated things. What does the solar system have to do with a computer network?

How fascinating it would be to have a computer network with names from Sesame Street or X-Men.

“Error: Cookie Monster has detected that your computer has cookies disabled. Please enable cookies on your machine to log onto Cookie Monster.”

“Error: Bert is currently not responding. Consequently, Ernie isn’t either.”

“Error: Wolverine is down at the moment, undergoing repairs on his endoskeleton. Connection should resume momentarily.”

“Error: Storm is a little under the weather today, so connection might be splotchy.”

James Bond and the Two-Way Mirror

C.D. was telling me about this friend of hers that refused to try on clothes in public changing rooms because he was convinced that the mirrors in them were actually double-sided mirrors. He was sure that there were cameras on the other side taking his picture and selling it on the black market or posting it on the Internet in China. As I pondered this thought I realized that I would have had a totally different reaction to this information. I would be strutting my stuff in there, flexing and posing, making funny faces, giving the audience the best show I could. I might even bust out with a few impressions or accents or pick-up lines.

I can see the person running the interrogation-and-third-degree counter at the front of the changing rooms getting worried and calling in the fire department because I had been in there for hours. Then the fire department breaks down the door only to find me standing in my underwear, flexing my muscles, and offering in my best British accent to buy myself a drink.

Barrel-Rolls and Flying Dogs

Yesterday I went jogging in the park. I came across a dog named Ginger who was frolicking around in circles just chasing imaginary creatures and enjoying the sunshine. Suddenly she thrust all four feet to the side and rolled over on her back. Then she proceeded to scratch her back in that twisting squirming manner, feet straight up in the air, in which dogs seem so able and happy to find themselves. Unfortunately Ginger’s violent scratching got her too close to the edge of a hill and she ended up barrel-rolling all the way down it just like we used to do when we were kids. When she got to the bottom she flipped back over on her feet, a huge smile playing across her face, raced to the top of the hill, and proceeded to roll down the hill again. I guess little kids aren’t the only ones that enjoy a good barrel-roll.

I then rounded the curve and was passed by two girls jogging with their miniature dachshund. He was doing his best to stay up with them, moving his feet so fast that it almost seemed like every other step was actually missing the pavement. His ears were blown back flat against his head and his tongue was flapping out to the side like a flag. It is unfortunate that despite all these efforts that he was, in fact, covering very little ground.

The Art of a Programmer

It is sad to watch people using my programs and viewing them merely as utilities to accomplish a task. In the basest, most grotesque way I suppose that is really what they are, but to me they are works of art. I see and appreciate the hours of sweat and tears that went into creating this something out of nothing. I marvel at the layer after layer of “paint” that harmonize and co-exist so that this “piece” comes together in perfect flow. I see the living, breathing beast that lurks behind the scenes slaving away to make the user’s life that much easier. I know every letter, every nuance, every dark and forgotten corner of the program. And when they get sick, I know exactly how to fix them so they get all better. I am not God, and I will never know what it feels like to control the power of creation. The closest I could ever get is watching one of my programs come to life and feeling the pride and joy of knowing that I created it. It is at those moments that I marvel at the skills that God has placed in my hands. Too often I take them for granted, shrugging off the gifts as nothing all that special. But when it all comes together in that one almost-perfect masterpiece, I realize how beautiful and wondrous those skills and the process really are. I see the fruit of my labors, little works of art, not just a utility to accomplish a task.

The Life of a Programmer

I am sitting here staring at the screen watching my program, which takes a combined time of 20 minutes to run, get all the way to the 18th minute before it decides to crash. I robotically try to decipher the error message, which becomes increasingly more difficult when the computer starts getting an attitude and spits out messages like "You screwed it up again, IDIOT! Failure at Module: 42342413442343143432413463452345# Now try to figure out what that means, Genius!" But I am a programmer and I don't know the meaning of the word defeat. So, I change some small thing like a semi-colon or comma, and decide that surely that was enough to throw off Module: 42342413442343143432413463452345#, and I start it up for another test run. Invariably, 18 minutes later I am greeted by another warm, encouraging message from my computer like, "Please don't breed, with you in the world we are already over our quota for morons. Failure at code line 3.825. Muah, Ha, Ha, Ha [Best Demonic Laugh]!" However, never deterred and never once pondering why I decided to become a programmer in the first place, I press on. I decide to make a big change this time and attack a period or maybe a question mark. I then confidently sit back, grinning from ear to ear, and run another test...slightly smirking at having bested this infernal machine. This time it DOES NOT stop at minute 18...nor does it stop at minute 20, or even minute 75. Actually, I lost track of time when I fell over asleep onto my keyboard, it was the spark created by my drool hitting the power source of the keyboard that jarred me awake. Apparently, I have an infinite loop now...which requires me to manually stop the program...but at least the computer doesn't get the last word this time. I spend the next hour and a half fading in and out of consciousness as I try to read over the 2.7 million lines of code that make up this program, making corrections here and there, but ultimately deciding that I have had enough and thinking that nobody will really notice the remaining issues if I throw in some dazzling graphics. So, here I sit again watching the program attempt to get through another test run. Did you know that if you put your finger tips together while keeping your hands as far apart as possible, and put your thumbs up to your nose while looking through the space made by your pinky and ring finger, that it feels like you are viewing the world down a tree lined street? Five minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes, and 20 minutes later, SUCCESS! Just as long as nobody expects those numbers to add up exactly.

I'm With Stupid

You know some days I am really tempted to go back to school and get my Master’s degree. My brilliant wife is really starting to show me up. I can’t use my measly bachelor’s degree to compete with her bachelor’s, two masters, and soon-to-be PhD. I am really getting tired of everyone thinking I am the stupid one because she looks better on paper. They all give her that sympathetic look, you know the one where they are proud of her taking pity on the less fortunate and bringing herself down to my level so I wouldn’t live my life alone as a pathetic loser. I tried a couple of times to win support for my smartiness, but the “I was the valedictorian of my eighth grade class” card sort of loses its “awe effect” in about the first two minutes following eighth grade graduation.

A Half Eaten Basket of Stale Chips

I was sitting in a restaurant and thinking how funny it would be if you took the dishes from a restaurant, put them in a to-go box, and gave them to someone for a wedding gift. You could get them all kinds of stuff: silverware, dip bowls, chip baskets, dinner platters, glasses, bread baskets, cutting boards, etc. I guess the only thing that really would be more tacky than that is if you didn’t wash them before you gave them to them. “What the heck is this…a half eaten basket of stale chips and a bowl full of hardened cheese dip?”

Insatiable Curiosity

When most people talk or communicate they do so of specific things or happenings in their lives. They talk of work or people. Not too many just talk about random and untraceable thought patterns. Pondering things like stupid clichés in the English language or patterns in human nature. Why is that? Why do we get so caught up in our lives and stop asking "Why?" Little kids are amazing because they are so curious. They have this insatiable curiosity that leads them to constantly explore the world around them. But as they grow up they lose that quality and slowly fall into a rut. Everyone ought to have something in their lives that fills them with insatiable curiosity. Something that they can never get enough of. What fills you with an insatiable curiosity?

For me it is reading books...I can never read enough or fast enough to satisfy myself. There are never enough books as I pour through them like water. I love to depart this world for a while and enter into a realm of fantasy or mystery or romance or horror. To be an observer of someone else's life. To know more than the character, shouting at them to let them in on the info., and then sighing in frustration when time and time again they ignore my warnings. The stories allow you to view and experience your own reality in a whole new way. You can't help but look at the world differently. Sometimes I find myself reading two or three books at the same time...and I still can't get enough.

The Spit Bubble Violation

I spit on myself today. I was just sitting at my desk and it flew out. I was so appalled that I just sat there staring my hand in total disbelief. I am not exactly sure how or why it happened, but it was gross nonetheless. I finally pulled myself together and wiped that small insignificant bubble off my hand, but the damage was done. I felt so violated. I felt so unloved and disrespected. That someone could treat me with such a lack of humanity. I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive myself for making me feel this way.

The Struggling Millionaires

Do you remember when a million dollars was a lot of money? Do you remember when there were relatively few millionaires in the world? Now we have lots of billionaires walking around, and an average annual salary of $100,000 or more is not even so uncommon. Prices are on the rise along with our salaries, so we really aren’t any better off. Isn’t it funny to think that one day we might all be making a million dollars a year and still be struggling to pay the bills each month?

Negative Motivation

I am sitting at work today, and I have negative motivation to actually do my job. I know that most people have zero motivation when they don’t feel like doing things, but I pretty much have less than that. In fact I have so little motivation that I am actually considering undoing some of the things I did yesterday.

On Call...24/7

My wife called me for “tech support” today. Seems she was trying to install her scanner on her new laptop and the software she had was out-of-date. So as usual I have to try to fix the problem 900 miles away over the phone. I am used to it by now, because I get these kinds of calls all the time. Most times I can work my way through it, but usually it is a frustrating process.

I think it is funny that people always call me with tech questions like that. I usually can’t call them for anything. I can’t exactly call my wife up and say, “Hey dear, I am having this genetic problem. Do you think you can help me with it over the phone?” I am sure she would just tell me I was born with it and there is nothing anyone can do for me.

Miserable Bliss

Have you ever heard the term “miserable bliss?” It is usually what I say to describe how I feel right after Thanksgiving dinner, or after eating my wife’s cooking, or after having dessert anyway even though I was full after the meal. It is what usually comes right before that usual pose of unbuttoning the pants, getting into the most horizontal position you can, rubbing your belly, and groaning. And yet as miserable as you feel it was still an extreme delight to get to that point. Given the chance to do it all again you probably would still gorge yourself and end up in the exact position you find yourself in now. That is miserable bliss.

Only Hers...

I went to get coffee with I.S. and B.M. today. I.S. was telling us about this boss he had who was 32 but still had a thing for college age girls. B.M. laughed and said, "Don't we all." It was a total guy moment. Men trying to put on airs with other men to throw their testosterone around. So, I piped up and said that I have a thing for college ladies, especially those in grad school at the University of Missouri. B.M. just rolled his eyes and said, "yeah, yeah." For those of you that don't know it my wife is a grad student at the University of Missouri.

I don't need to put on airs, I love my wife. I don't want other women. I guess my macho level just flat-lined, but I don't care. Even if I don't mean it, it is a betrayal to say it. I want her to know I am faithful, and I want everyone else to know it too. I love being only hers.

Cell Phones Are For Kids

I really hate call waiting on my cell phone. I call someone and end up getting their voice mail. While I am leaving an obnoxious message about getting their voice mail, they end up calling me back. So, now I have to hang up with the voice mail and answer the other line, but the button to accomplish this task is the same button in both instances. So, I hit the hang up/answer button and end up hanging up both calls! Then we go into the annoying “User is Busy” loop as I try to call the person back and they try to call me back at the same time.

Today I think I even managed to hang up on myself. I am pretty sure that both calls were still active, but I disconnected from myself. A little voice came on the line telling me that the person at my own phone number was unavailable due to the fact that he hung up on himself, and that I should wait a while to try again…preferably when I learn to actually use the cell phone properly. Needless to say that I was not boasting a lot of self-confidence after this message. I would say that the message in and of itself was degrading enough without the added “MORON” yelled at the end of it.

There Are Signs Everywhere

I came into work today and was overcome by the sense of something different. I think the human mind is fascinating in that respect. We get so complacent in our routines that we fail to notice repeated things on a daily basis, but as soon as one of those things is taken away our mind is a whirlwind of thought. Something was different and although I couldn’t say with exact certainty what it was, I knew something had changed. The other amazing thing is that it totally messed me up. I couldn’t function. Even now after I have finally figured out what it was I am still feeling the affects fading all too slowly.

Across the parking lot from us is a church. The church had signs situated along certain parking spaces that said, “These Spots Reserved on Sunday for Our Less Mobile Senior Members.” I park in front of these signs everyday, but today they are gone. True, the church is actually abandoned, having moved their congregation to another location, but still. The least they could have done was consult me so that I could have had time to prepare my mind and thus bypass the affects caused by having my world suddenly turned upside-down.

I Smell Like Pancakes

I used to tell people that I smelled like certain foods. It would go something like, “I smell like tacos today” or “I smell like pizza tonight.” I didn’t mean that I ACTUALLY had some odor of food that was pervading from my body. It wasn’t even some foodinal aroma attached to my clothes. It was my way of telling them what I felt like eating. When faced with indecision, sometimes I could smell things on the wind and it would inspire me. So, I guess you could say that “I smell like pancakes for breakfast” was just a shortened form of “I smell pancakes and that sounds good for breakfast.” I don’t know what made me think to write that today. I think it was when a colleague asked me what I felt like for lunch and I thought about saying, “I smell like Mexican food today.”

If I had Jedi Powers...

The topic of today’s entry is what would you do with Jedi powers? I mean we see the Jedi in the movies using their powers at moments of great need, but what do they do with them on a daily basis. So, I thought about what I could do with my powers in my day-to-day life.

I could use the force to bring things to me so I don’t have to get up, like getting the remote control from across the room when I leave it over there. I could use it to allow me to drink my water or eat my snacks without having to stop typing at my computer. I could use it to type at my computer, so I could just sit and drink my water or eat my snacks. I could sit in the park and produce sudden gusts of “wind” to throw the birds off when they are flying. I could move cars out of the way when I get stuck in traffic in the morning.

I could use Jedi mind tricks to convince my boss to give me a promotion. I could use them at Thanksgiving to convince my brother that he doesn’t really want the last piece of pumpkin pie. I could use them on salespeople to get them to stop feeding me crap when I want to buy something. I could use them to convince my wife that she really doesn’t want to buy another purse after all.

I could use the power of Empathy to finally know what my wife is really thinking and feeling. I could use it to understand what people are going through when something terrible happens, so I know best how to comfort them.

I could use Force Stealth to render myself invisible, and well…maybe we shouldn’t delve too deeply into what I could do if I was invisible. Maybe you should just use your imagination.

So what would you do?

The Disappearing Ear

B.M. has a coffee mug with the famous self-portrait of Van Gogh on it. As the mug gets hot Van Gogh’s ear disappears. I tried to explain to him the disparity with the idea since Van Gogh painted his portrait from the side with his good ear. So, you would never see the bad ear actually disappearing as the mug suggests because it is never visible to begin with.

The bottom of the mug is just as funny, and it is even funnier that B.M. never thought to look on the bottom of it. On the bottom of the mug it says “The Unemployed Philosopher’s Guild…For best results use other side.”

Toes and Chicken Pot Pies

Last night I dreamed I was in China with my boss. We were at a dinner party and for some reason he was giving people a scientific explanation about my toes sticking through the ends of my socks. I am not quite sure what this means exactly. I have heard that dreams hold meanings to our unconscious minds. I wonder if it means that I shouldn’t eat chicken pot pies for dinner anymore. Maybe it means I need to cut my toenails. Or perhaps it means something more. Maybe it is the secret of life revealed to me in a dream and I have only to figure it out to unlock its secrets and save humanity as we know it! Probably not. I am going with the chicken pot pie theory.