Just For Men

I was on the Hair Care aisle at Wal-Mart, and I noticed the myriad of hair coloring options.  I mean just about every shade you could ever possibly want to turn your hair is available in a small, rectangular box.  But what caught my eye was the shelf that sported several shades of gray for men.  Gray?  Really?  What would the commercial for that product be?

"Just For Men...Gray...Because I have a little brown that's messing up the symmetry."

MMM

Awhile back, a few of us guys here at work started a movie watching club.  The idea came about when it was discovered that our wives all attended an all-ladies movie watching club.  We'd get stuck watching the kids all day while they were out living the "single" life.  The guys decided that we needed a club of our own.  A way to get away from it all for a few hours to just be men.  We'd eat things like burgers and steaks, laugh about whose wife was worse, and view quality (or not-so-quality) entertainment.  So we formed a secret club, and we called it the Man Movie Mayhem.  Code name MMM, for short.

So, the next month we proceeded.  One of the guy's wife was going to spend the day at her mother's house, so the rest of us made up excuses to sneak out of the house and congregate at his house.  Each month, we rotated around to each guy's house, so as not to put too much burden on any one guy or draw to much suspicion to our activities.

Our movie lineup included classic movies like Must Love Dogs, You've Got Mail, Bridget Jone's Diary, and Robin Hood: Men in Tights.  Everything was fine for the first few months.  We never felt more free or liberated.  We were men.  We were living like men were meant to live.  That is until my wife happen to come home early and catch us in the middle of a viewing of Pride and Prejudice.  I never heard the end of it.

The Man Movie Mayhem club was disbanded shortly after.  The irony of it is that the women were apparently getting together to watch action flicks.

The Smell of Death

I hate the smell of lilies.  They always remind me of death.  Their pungent, over-powering aroma is the only concrete memory I have of funerals.  I know there are lots of other flowers present in funeral bouquets, but lilies seem to stand out.  Now, whenever I smell a lily, I think of death.

The Web Cam

I got a web cam the other day for my computer that does HD at 720p.  Now, my web cam displays better picture than my TV.  How sad is that?  I think I need a new TV.

The Switches

Outside the Subway in historic downtown, there's a bank of light switches on the brick wall.  There's really no obvious clue as to what function these switches perform, so I can only surmise it must be so the power company can come turn off your electricity if you don't pay your bill.  

Of course, you could just wait until the technician's gone and switch it back on.  Then, after a few days of this back and forth switching, you might get a strongly-worded note in the mail to stop flipping the switch.  You, of course, continue to switch it on.  At which point, you might receive a final ultimatum explaining that next time they'll use tape.  You come back to find the switch held in place with electrical tape.

Yes, electrical tape...what other kind of tape would you use to cover a light switch? 

White-Noise Speakers

My company is investigating installing white-noise speakers to help drown out floating conversations around the office.  This intrigued me, so I did a little research on them.  Apparently, white is not the only color you can get.  Each color hits a different wavelength of noise, so you can target the high tones, low tones, etc.  One company even has a setup that if configured just right will also block conversations involving unpleasant tasks and assignments sent via e-mails and instant messenger.  They're called the "Selective Listener" speakers, but I'm pretty sure our office must already have those installed.

If You Light It, They Will Come

Whenever we'd go out for a steak dinner with my stepfather, he'd get impatient at how long it was taking.  Especially since his favorite answer to how he'd like it cooked was, "Just knock the horns off of it, and throw it on the plate."  One time, after a particularly long wait, he informed us that he was going to hurry the process up.  He then proceeded to light a cigarette.  No sooner had he taken his first drag and set the cigarette in the ashtray, then the waiter brought out our steaks.  To say the least, I was amazed.  He truly was a magician.

The next time we went out for steaks, I hadn't forgotten his cigarette trick.  After about 10 min or so, I asked him if the trick would work again.  He said, "Let's find out," and he lit up a cigarette.  Immediately, our steaks arrived at the table.

I've seen him perform this trick dozens of times since, and I still don't know how he does it.  It doesn't matter if we've waited five minutes or 45 minutes.  As soon as he lights that cigarette, the steaks will come.

The Bar Code Tattoo

BD says that if he ever gets a tattoo that it'll be a bar code on the back of his neck.  I asked him what it would say if someone scanned it, and he said it'd be cool if it represented his name.  I told him that that would definitely come in handy if he was killed during a robbery.  Then, the CSI team could just scan his neck to identify him without having to wait on dental records.

Ricky Martin Screensaver

When I was in college, I replaced my roommate's Anna Kournikova screensaver with a Ricky Martin one.  He adamantly held that he abhorred Ricky Martin more than anybody else.  So, I thought he'd appreciate the change.  Just to be sure he'd be sufficiently inconvenienced by this gesture, I password protected it as well.  Oh, did I mention that it sang "Livin' La Vida Loca" too?

The first time he came home and saw it, he nearly had a conniption.  When he found out it was password protected as well, and he couldn't turn it off, the vein in the side of his head started throbbing.  He proceeded to reboot the computer and went to do something else while he waited.  By the time it had come back up, he had completely forgotten about the screensaver (yes, it took his computer so long to boot up that he had sufficient time to forget about it).  He went about downloading more illegal music and pictures of Anna Kournikova.  A few hours later his attention had been drawn to EPSN Sports Center (which was perpetually on whenever he was home), and after 10 minutes or so, his screensaver came up and started singing "Livin' La Vida Loca."  He got pissed all over again, and I could hardly contain my laughter when I heard it.

As much as he complained about that stupid screensaver, it stayed on his computer for 3 months.  I don't know if he couldn't figure out how to get it off, or if he secretly was a closet Ricky Martin fan after all.

New Artwork

In an effort to appear more cultured and sophisticated, the office manager decided to acquire some new artwork for the walls of our office.  However, since she's neither cultured nor sophisticated, she proceeded to hang this abstract art upside-down.

Texas Children

It's funny that when most people hear the word "Texan," they think of gun racks in your truck.  I don't know why, but far be it from me to break the misconception.  So, when MC asked me if this rumor was true, I told him absolutely.  In fact, it's all a product of how we're raised.  Every Texas child has a Power Wheels...let's say truck, but something big and mean, like a Dooley truck...with a gun rack and BB gun in the back of it.  We drive around screaming obscenities at sticks and squirrels that get in our way or cut us off.  MC laughed, then looked at me and asked, "Really?"

They're Labeled for a Reason

At work I have ear buds for my iPod.  They are labeled with an "L" and "R" to indicate the appropriate ear to stick them in.  Today, I accidentally picked up the "R" ear bud and stuck it in my left ear.  I thought I was going to have a heart attack.  I was totally grossed out.  Cross-ear-waxation is not something I take lightly.

Technological Paradox

The technological paradox is an age-old concept whenever discussions arise as to the usefulness of technological advancements in our culture.  Basically, it states that humans reached a point in their existence when they had no leisure time.  They were forced to work all the time to survive.  So, they used technology to invent ways to do their jobs faster and easier.  This allowed them more leisure time.  It worked for a while, until humans realized that with the extra leisure time, they could work more and make even more money.  However, this brought them right back to where they started.

So, they invented more things to help make their jobs faster and easier.  Which gave them more leisure time again.  But then after a while, they realized they could use the extra time to work more and make more money.  And so the cycle goes on and on.

I was asked recently if I thought technology had made our lives better or worse.  There are tons of examples all around as to how technology has made our lives easier.  But are the side effects really worth it?  I’m going to use two examples to illustrate my point…I’m fat, and the kid at the check-out lane can’t make change. 

I work like most of the world in an office at a computer.  I rarely leave my desk, because to be honest I have no need.  If I want to talk to someone two desks away, then I just send them an instant message.  I have e-mail, phone, web conferencing…every form of communication within arm’s length.  In addition, the product that comes from my labors is virtual, not physical, as we write software, so the most workout I get is with my fingertips.  The consequences of this total lack of needing to move…I’ve put on 50 pounds since I got out of college.

I was at the store the other day paying for groceries.  The total came to $11.67, and I handed the kid at the check-out a $20 bill.  He punched the $20 button on the register, and it spit back a number, $8.33.  He jumped right in to pulling out my change.  He grabbed a $5 bill, then froze.  He looked back up to the display, then grabbed three $1 bills.  Then, he froze.  He looked back at the display, then grabbed three pennies and three dimes.  The show of confidence as he handed me my receipt and change indicated that the kid had no clue that he could have given me a quarter and nickel instead of three dimes.  A sixteen year-old kid can’t make change in his head, nor does he know how to make change with the least number of coins.  The Subway near my office eliminated that problem.  The cash register automatically spits out the correct change into a little bowl at its side when the checker hits the total key.  I guess they were having serious problems with people giving out an incorrect amount of change.

I see a lot of benefits to how technology has made our lives easier, but as a side effect we have become less physically active and in some cases, stupider.  Not to mention that we have become so dependent on technology that we can’t do the simplest, most basic tasks on our own anymore.  If you don’t believe me, try doing math in your head without a calculator or some formula on a spreadsheet.  Wash your clothes by hand.  Pump up your tires with a hand pump.

I think the worst example of technology spoiling us is evident in the fact that my brother can’t go tent camping without an air mattress and portable air conditioner.  He’s such a wuss.  I never bring that kind of crap with me when I stay in my luxury cabin with queen-sized bed, full kitchen, and fireplace.

The Bullies

There has been a lot of publicity in the news lately about bullying in schools.  But you never hear about bullying in the workplace.  It happens.  We might try to disguise it with different terms, but it’s still bullying.

Last year, I was a victim.  The lady sitting next to me seemed to have it out for me, for no particular reason.  She would eavesdrop on my conversations and phone calls, as well as collect gossip from my project leader.  Then, she’d twist the facts to make up plausible, yet completely false, stories about what I was “up to.”  Finally, she’d file a complaint with my supervisor about my elicit activities.  Of course, I’d get talked to about it.

A friend of mine is going through it now.  A colleague of hers has decided that she doesn’t like my friend, and has started causing trouble for her.  She’s reported that my friend takes an excessive amount of time off, not just vacation and sick time, but breaks from her desk as well.  She’s spied on my friend, and collected chat history and e-mails to use against her.  My friend was not as fortunate as me, and was recently written up for her behavior.

The short-term consequences of this form of bullying is a vast amount of unnecessary stress and mental anxiety.  The long-term consequences can be much, much worse.  So, why do these things happen?  Did we do something to our attackers to cause them to take revenge on us?  The answer in both situations is, “No.”  We are victims of bullies.  People who enjoy the misfortune and pain of others with no discernible gain other than a sense of power over their victim.  They think nothing of the consequences of what they’re doing.  They don’t care if they destroy someone.  To them, it’s a game.

Unfortunately, it is just as mentally draining and frightening to try to deal with the situation as an adult as it is as a child.  There are consequences for retribution, whether that be starting a smut campaign of your own or just punching the person out.  In fact, the consequences can be, in a lot of ways, worse for an adult.  You have families, bills, and responsibilities to think about.  You can’t afford to lose your job or possibly go to jail.

So what can we do?  Pretty much the same thing as we did as a kid.  We either endure it and pray the situation fixes itself, or we leave and go somewhere else.  What else can we do?

The Elevator

I work on the second floor of a 3-story building.  Just to be clear, that means there's one floor above me and one below me.  So, can anyone explain to me why it takes twice as long for the elevator to come when I call it than it takes to travel between floors once I'm actually in the elevator?

If the elevator doesn't happen to be waiting at the second floor, which I assume it isn't, then it can only be at worse one floor away.  I realize that nobody would splurge for an express elevator for a 3-story building, but this is ridiculous.  I can press the button, run down the stairs to the first floor and back again, and still be back before the elevator arrives.

What happens when I press that button?  Does it send an electric shock down to wake up the hedgehog that is secretly turning the crank that moves the elevator up and down?  Does he have to scratch and groggily wipe his eyes before he can get to work?

I wonder what the firefighters would do...watch the building burn down while they waited for the elevator?

The Faithless

As I drove to church this morning, I was amazed to see the number of people that found something else to do.  People jogging, biking, walking their dogs, going grocery shopping, mowing their yards...to name a few.  I'm sure there were many, many more that chose to simply sleep in that I couldn't see.

What has happened to this world?  How is it that people have grown so faithless that they don't deem it important to give God His due?  The fact that today is absolutely gorgeous should be even more of a reminder that He is awesome.  They take all He gives - His blessings, His gifts - but they can't quit being selfish for just one day to acknowledge what He's done for them.

I can't gripe about everyone, because I'm sure there are people that go to church on Saturday, or Sunday night, or Wednesday night, or some other time.  I'm sure there are people that usually go, but miss every once in a while.  (I'm guilty of that.)  And I'm sure there are extenuating circumstances that prevent some people from getting to church, but sleeping in and mowing your yard are not it.

But since I'm on this soap box, I'd have to say that the most annoying people out there are the ones driving along, ten miles under the speed limit, on a one-lane road, with absolutely nothing to do, and making those of us that are trying to get to church late.

Sultan of 'Not'

"Arizona Diamondbacks third baseman Mark Reynolds is one of the more remarkable hitters in history. Two years ago, he became the first major leaguer to surpass 200 strikeouts in a season. Last year, he improved on that epic performance with 223 whiffs. This year, he's threatening to set a new mark yet again. Perhaps not since Babe Ruth broke the home runs record each year from 1919 to 1921 has the game seen such a display."

Source:  Wall Street Journal: Personal Journal, August 24, 2010.

Royals Player Has a Shot at a Record

A Kansas City Royals player has a shot at one of baseball's toughest records.  Through Sunday, first baseman Billy Butler has hit into 26 double plays this season, giving him a legitimate shot at surpassing the record of 36 set by Jim Rice in 1984.  What makes the feat even more impressive is that Butler has managed to do it without the support of his teammates.  Rice set the record hitting behind Wade Boggs and Dwight Evans, who both ranked in the top 10 in on-base percentage.  Which is in stark contrast to Kansas City, whose lead-off hitters rank ninth in the American lead with their number two hitters ranking twelfth.  So, essentially Butler has hit into double plays without anyone on base.  Now, that IS a special feat!

Source:  Wall Street Journal:  Personal Journal, August 24, 2010.

Humming

I was in the bathroom today when I unexpectedly heard humming coming from the stall next to me.  I immediately recognized the tune.  The guy was humming, "If I Only Had a Brain" from the Wizard of Oz.  I started laughing.  When I saw who it was, I couldn't contain myself.  It just made perfect sense.

Abbie Hoffman

In 1971, Abbie Hoffman, a former rioter and protester, published a book called "Steal This Book."  Many bookstores refused to carry the book, because people kept stealing it.

The Chicken or the Egg

Which blinked first...the chicken or the egg?

I'm thinking the chicken, since the egg doesn't have eyelids.

Too Good at Being Me

Do you ever suddenly stop in the middle of your day and think, "I feel like I did the same thing yesterday"?   And the more you think about it, it seems that every day seems too similar to the day before.  You're being efficient and getting done what you are assigned, but still it has lost its excitement.  Most days you feel like you're on autopilot, because it doesn't really require 100% conscious thought to perform your duties.

I feel like this.  I have large chunks of my day that I can't seem to recall.  I have obviously done something as things are getting done, but I have no conscious recollection of doing them.  It's as if my body is so well-trained to "be me" that it doesn't really need my brain to be involved anymore.  The worst part is that I genuinely want to add something new, something exciting; but I can't.  I have found the best, most efficient way to "be me" that I can't think of any other way to do it.  Besides, short deviations aren't enough.  It is too easy to slide back into the routine.

I'm just tired of having a deja vu experience about a deja vu experience.  I feel like I'm living my life two steps behind.  I'm sure it was interesting the first time, but now it's just the status quo.  Barring changing jobs every other week, how does anyone have enough variety in their job to keep it interesting?  I mean, even if you had different experiments, cases, or clients; the underlying processes are still the same.  Enough the same to make it stale.

Denim Diapers

I recently saw a Huggies commercial for a new diaper that looks like denim blue jeans.  The baby that's sporting them in this commercial is strutting through a crowd of on-lookers, as if it's cool to wear your diaper right out in the open.  I guess these new diapers are supposed to give kids more self-confidence.  They no longer have to be ashamed that their diapers are showing.  Seriously, do you think they care?  Are these more for the kids or the parents?  It's funny to me that they'd market them to babies.  Are they going to point at the screen and ask to get denim diapers?

9

My dad is obsessed with the idea that our family is somehow connected to the number 9. I’m afraid to say that that obsession has been passed down to me. It started with easy things, such as a birthday having a 9 in it. (My dad’s is on the 29th.) Then it started to get spooky and widespread. In fact, the more we looked for it, the more the number 9 started to crop up. Of course, I’ll have to explain the rules as to what makes it legitimate.

1.  The number 9 is physically in the entity in question.
2.  The numbers in the entity add or multiply to the number 9.
3.  You can’t subtract or divide the numbers in the entity to arrive at the number 9.
4.  Mathematical operations cannot be performed for more than one iteration to get the number 9. (Such as my soccer jersey number, which was 28. I could divide 8 by 2 to get 4. Then, I could add 8, 2, and 4 to get 14. I could divide 4 by 1 to get 4. Then, I could add 4, 1, and 4 to get 9. While creative, this is not valid. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time on the bench…lots of time to think.)
5.  Any logical separation of the entity can be used to arrive at the number 9. Such, as you can take merely the month and day of a birthday without using the year.

Now, some examples of places this has occurred in my life:

• I was born at 9:33.
• My apartment number is 29C.
• I used to live at 549 Marino Rd.
• My cube number is 2070.
• I park in spot 81.
• I have been married on the 18th, 19th, and again on November 2, 2003. (Can’t see the last one, just add up 1 + 1 + 2 + 2 + 0 + 0 + 3.)

It’s not just me, though:

• My stepmother’s birthday is on February 7th.
• My dad and stepmother were married on April 23rd. (Again, 4 + 2 + 3.)
• Heck, my dad's favorite baseball player of all time, Ted Williams, even wore the number 9 on his jersey.

I’ll stop there, as that constitutes the perfect number of examples. (Think about it.) I predict this pattern will continue in our lives. It seems harmless enough, but it’s interesting to see it in action. I wonder if your life has a common number. Have you ever thought about it?

Trying to Understand a Scot

B.D. "I don't like them because they're from Glasgow.  Or maybe Ayr, which is pretty much the same thing, because people from Ayr wish they were from Glasgow."

D.K. "There sure are a lot of predjudices in Scotland.  You guys seem to hate everyone, even other Scots."

B.D.  "We're a clan-based nation, what did you expect?"

D.K. "But it's not just clan rivalry.  You guys hate certain political groups, people from any country other than Scotland, stupid people, religious people, people who like it above 65 degrees in the house, and people who can't grow a full beard in a day.  Then, you reserve the right to throw people from certain cities into any one of those categories, just to justify them being on your 'list'. 

"Oh, and the list...don't get me started on the list.  Any minor offense can get you thrown onto the list.  Like the guy that took the last Splenda packet or the guy that left the coffee pot with less than a half a cup of coffee left, so you'd have to make more.  Or the guy that has too much chrome on his GMC Yukon, which then puts anyone that drives a Yukon on the list.  The list is just a loophole for random hatred."

B.D. "Is there a problem with this?"

DID

The great thing about having Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personality Disorder) is that you always have someone to listen to you when you're talking to yourself in the mirror.

Half Empty or Half Full

Is the glass half empty or half full? This is an age-old question used to determine if you're a pessimist or an optimist by how you view the world. Some may argue that it's always full - containing 50% of water and 50% of air. Some (engineers) may argue that the glass is twice as big as it needs to be. While others still may argue that it depends on the previous condition of the glass. If it was previously empty, then it is now half full, having had water added to it. If it was previously full, then it is now half empty, having had water taken from it.

I think the more important questions to ask are...(If it's not my glass.) "Why didn't you clean up your dishes?!" and (If it's my glass.) "Who's been drinking my water?!"

Not Microwaveable

"Not Microwaveable."  That's what it says on the top of my watermelon container.  Why would anyone microwave watermelon? 

S.M. thinks the warning refers to the container itself being used to heat up food, but I'm pretty sure he's wrong.  It clearly refers to the watermelon.

Twisted Underwear

My dad once got a pair of underwear that had a twist in the middle of them.  In other words, the fabric between the legs had been twisted before it was sewn together.  Apparently, some guy on the assembly line was having a bad day and decided to share it with some innocent schmo.  Enter my dad.

To my dad's credit, he didn't just throw them away.  He decided to give them a chance.  After he spent the entire day, pulling a wedge out of his...well, you know, he decided to throw them out.  Not being one to throw skid-marked underwear in the trash, he decided to wash them first.  Unfortunately, he neglected to inform my stepmother of the plan, and she washed them and put them back in his drawer.  After the second day of pulling a wedge out of his...well, you know, he asked my stepmother to take them apart, untwist them, and sew them back together.  He figured that was safer than risking another day with a twist!

The Dangers of Handcuffs

Being as my father worked for the police department for 20-some years, it was not uncommon to have spare handcuffs around the house.  As a kid, I used to love to "play" policeman.  I'd handcuff everything.  This was all well and good until I handcuffed my grandmother behind the stove.  She had climbed back there to clean something and "snick" I handcuffed her to it.  Needless to say, I was in no hurry to release her after she told me what she'd do to me once I had.

But I think the real low point with the handcuffs came on the day when I managed to handcuff my wrist to my ankle.  (That's right, I did it!  You want some of this?!)  Anyway, I have no idea why I did it, but I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time.  What made matters worse was that I had lost the key.  Add to it that my father had the spare key, and he couldn't leave work.  So, barring leaving me incapacitated for hours until he got home, he did the next best thing.  He called the local police and asked them to send a squad car by the house.

Now, it wasn't my best moment to be laying on the floor by the front door, twisted like a pretzel, with my arm handcuffed to my ankle, in nothing but my underwear and no way to put clothes on (Oh, did I conveniently leave that part out?), and have the police show up to release me.  They managed the rescue in seconds, but I'm sure the story lived on for years at the station.  Maybe one of the officers will read this blog and have a good laugh recollecting the incident.

The Brown Coats

For Christmas the first three years of my marriage, my mother-in-law bought me a new brown coat.  Just brown...no other color.  Each coat was really nice, different and unique from the year before.  But imagine that I lived in Texas at the time where the need for coats is minimal.  I didn't exactly wear a coat out in the season.

On the fourth year, I asked for a different color just to jazz things up a little...maybe black or navy blue.  She quickly got the hint, and a family joke was started.  Every year, she threatened to send me a coat, while really sending me sweaters or such.

Last year, my brother-in-law got me a brown scarf for Christmas.  When I called to tell him how much I liked it, he told me he picked brown because he knew I already had a collection of brown coats.

Back-Fire

When I first got married, I didn't really do anything around the house.  If I wanted to do something special for my wife, then I'd surprise her by unloading the dishwasher before she got home.  For the first few times, she was very appreciative, and I was encouraged to do it again.  After a while, though, unloading the dishwasher just became my job.  I had to up my game.  So, I dusted for her one day.  She was ecstatic.  I was back!  After a few more dusts; however, dusting just became another of my jobs.  I went through laundry, trash, vacuuming, bathrooms...all with the same result.  Now, I have a whole list of "jobs" and no way to impress my wife.

I noticed we have entered an alternate reality, though, because now my wife comes home, plops herself on the couch to watch TV, and asks what's for dinner.  I see myself when I first got married, and I wonder how one little nice gesture back-fired on me.

Ageless

I’m sitting here today engaged in one of my favorite activities while at work, esp. when my project work is slow, as it is today. I’m gazing fondly at a picture of my wife. It was taken about seven years ago, just before we got married. The scene is my wife posing in front of a tropical garden area at a park in Houston, Texas. She has her sunglasses up on top of her head, holding her beautiful hair back, which cascades down over her shoulders in wavy, red-brown streams. You can see the rich browns in her eyes and a slight smile on her lips.

I enjoy gazing at the picture so much because it perfectly depicts the way I see my wife in my mind’s eye. She is just as beautiful and lovely today as she was seven years ago.

Okay, enough writing. I need to get back to looking at her picture...

Patriotism

A patriot is defined in Webster as “one who loves his or her country and supports its authority and interests.” In the United States, patriotism has become synonymous with “right, good, the man in the white hat.” So, is patriotism still an admirable characteristic if you support a country that is performing acts that aren’t admirable?

What if that country kills innocent people for monetary and power-hungry gains? What if that country invades another country purely for vengeance? What if that country bankrupts its people so it can give its governmental officials a raise and free healthcare? What if that country takes a great idea like Democracy and distorts it into a process of picking the lesser of two evils?

Just because you support that country, does it mean you’re right? I think Americans have confused what being a patriot really means. Think about it.

Millions of Englanders supported a monarchy that held the United States in a state of a repressed colony. A state which led Americans to revolt. Millions of Germans supported the Nazi movement of the 1940s. The same movement that started a world war that cost hundreds of thousands of American lives. Millions of people in Russia and Cuba supported Communist governments. The same governments that had Americans scrabbling in fear of a nuclear strike.

Obviously, there are patriots on both sides of any conflict. How can they both be right? Or is it just that the United States never makes mistakes and is therefore always right? Or perhaps it is only patriotism if you support the aims of the United States? If that’s the case, then Webster needs to update its definition.

Perspective

I listen to JD's stories about her daughter, and I can't help but laugh to realize how differently kids think about and see the world. I think that most people dismiss it too quickly as childish ignorance, but it makes perfect sense when seen from a couple of feet lower. A child may lack experience, but their rationale and logic are not flawed.

For instance, I may have never thought about the display in the front window of a wig shop as a display for a new head. But having had this pointed out to me, I can't help but agree that it could logically be viewed that way.

Maybe we all could use a dose of perspective. Maybe we'd be able to come up with better solutions to designs and problems, instead of just seeing it from the view of our invisible box.

Sneezes and Time Travel

I was in a meeting the other day when one of the guys at the table sneezed...hard. He sneezed so hard that he actually blew his chair back a few inches. (Not hard to do when you're only four feet eleven inches tall, and your feet don't touch the floor.) Anyway, he shook his head and asked, "What happened?"

To which another guy at the table responded, "You sneezed, that's what happened. Are you okay?"

The sneezer still looked a bit disoriented. So, I piped up, "Oh my gosh, he sneezed so hard that he blew himself backward a few minutes in time." I waved my hand in front of the sneezer and said loudly, "Do you know what year this is?"

New Calling Message

I want to get a new automated message that plays when I'm calling people at work. Before I get on the line, the person on the other end would hear something like:

"Please hold for a very important message from The Man, The Myth, The Legend."

For Sale

One faded, black sock, ribbed top, gold toe. Mate lost during washing. Would be perfect for someone with a similar faded, black sock. $1 OBO.

The Best Actors Play Soccer

I was watching the World Cup this weekend, and I'm convinced now that the best actors in the world must play soccer. Those guys spent more time flying through the air or writhing on the ground, trying to convince the referee that they had been fouled, then they spent actually playing.

During the Germany-Australia match, Germany actually received two yellow cards for being overly dramatic. It was awesome! One of the guys actually spent several minutes arguing with the referee about it. The replay showed that the defender didn't even touch him...missed him completely. But he still fell to the ground, grabbing his leg.

On another play, a defender barely tapped a guy in the shin...where he has a shinguard, I might add...and the guy writhed around on the ground for five minutes, holding his shin. You'd have thought the guy's bone was sticking out of the skin. Two minutes later, the guy was racing toward the goal trying to head in a cross. Yeah, must have been a serious injury.

It was pathetic to watch. When I played soccer, if you got knocked down, then you popped back up as quickly as possible, so you could get back on the ball. You didn't perform some acrobatic stunt across the field. What are they teaching these guys? Are you winning because you outplayed the other team or because you outacted them?

You Could've Called

In this day and age of technology, there seems to me no excuse for standing someone up. You have e-mail, texting, cell phones...surely you can find a way to let someone know what's going on. This especially applies if you've agreed to come to the event you were invited to or agreed to at least let someone know if you're coming or not.

So, if you decide not to come, but fail to notify the person that you're not coming, then you're just being rude. Exceptions to this, of course, include death and unforeseen emergencies. Finding something better to do or getting roped into going furniture shopping with your wife is not an emergency.

Being Drowsy After Lunch

As I sit here washing slurping down the last vestiges of my soft drink from lunch, I'm reading an article that says to avoid soft drinks in the afternoon as they tend to make you sleepy. Apparently, the sugars in the soft drink cause certain chemical levels to increase in your brain, causing you to become drowsy. This can be a problem for most people in the United States since we still have half a day of work to suffer through before we can take a nap. The article noted how a lot of countries take a siesta time in the afternoon to ward off this drowsiness.

There are several people at my office who believe in this philosophy whether it's allowed or not. I wonder if you could do it and claim it's for medical, cultural, or religious reas....

[Snoring can be heard coming from my cube.]

Little League Sports

Little League sports is not about winning and losing...

It's about scoring more points than the other team and cheering as they walk away dejected and sad.

Hard on Laptops

My wife can be very hard on laptops. She is on her 4th laptop in as many years. Not because she just wanted to upgrade to newer technology, but because she keeps unintentionally sabotaging them. One was lost to an exploding shampoo bottle in her suitcase. One was lost to a suicidal glass of water. (This one actually managed to run for several more months before finally succumbing to nagging injuries.) The last one just surrendered. I'm not sure how she managed it exactly, but one night while running several memory-intensive movies she was editing for her thesis defense, a little white flag came up out of the keyboard and started waving. A few minutes later, the laptop gasped and went dark.

Oh sure, they can program in a little white flag, but they can't manage to put the Delete key where anybody can find it!

What does she do again?

My wife and I had a nice dinner with a couple tonight. On the drive home, I realized that I have no idea what the lady I just ate with does for a living. I'm almost positive neither of them know what I do for a living. We spent an entire evening together talking and laughing with the conversation remaining lively and constant, and never once did we talk about work.

Most people don't hold work in jovial fondness, and it's expressed in the way they talk about it. They complain, grumble, sneer. As my mother so nicely put it, "Work is a four-letter word."

I think the most fascinating people I know are capable of carrying on a conversation about a myriad of topics never having to resort to the "work fallback." This is especially true about work colleagues. Of course we share common ground about work, but if our association is going to progress to friendship, then we'll have to be able to talk about more than work.

My evening tonight is proof at how easy this is to accomplish.

No Such Thing as Ghosts

An acquaintence of mine was telling a story about how he stayed in a "haunted" hotel while on vacation. He related the freaky stuff that went on during their stay, such as his girlfriend disappearing from the room and ending up on another floor. Trying to be rational about it, they figured that she was just sleep-walking. However, that explanation disappeared when they realized the deadbolt was still locked from the inside of the room. So, they chalked it up to ghosts and a supernatural experience.

Am I alone to think it odd that people blindly accept ghosts...beings that cannot be explained by human logic, have powers beyond human ability, and are only ever seen as smudges of light or haze?

I find it fascinating that people have no problems believing in the supernatural in regard to ghosts, but adamantly refuse to believe in the existance of demons, angels, and God. With the latter they need proof that they exist. Proof that is not required to believe in the former. They believe that these "ghosts" mean them harm (demons) or help them in times of need (angels). In most regards their beliefs mirror a Christian's take on reality, but they vehemently refuse to accept a Biblical explanation or perspective.

I don't get it. What's the difference?

Seduced on the Phone

I like to sneak off during work and call my wife. I try to see if I can get her to say cutsie, sexy things to me over the phone. It's awesome, because I can get seduced by a woman over the phone, and I don't have to pay $9.95 a min to do it. Plus, the bonus is that she really means it!

Texting Obsession

I was walking into the express lane to check out, and there were two high school-age girls walking into the line before me. No sooner did they stop their cart, than they both pulled out their cell phones and started texting. They couldn't even wait the one minute it took the checker to dispatch the customer in front of them. It was as if they might perish if they weren't constantly connected to friends. As if their very existence was defined by the fact that someone else was acknowleding that they, in fact, were still alive. The funny thing is that they were probably texting each other.

What did people like myself do before cell phones and texting? Oh that's right, we either talked face-to-face or we entertained ourselves.

The Wedding Ring

I take my wedding ring off when I wash my hands, work in the yard, or even when I'm just at home for the night. I've taken a lot of flak from my friends about this...guys who NEVER take off their rings. So, I wanted to write a blog to explain why I do what I do...besides the obvious reason of not wanting to mess up my ring.

If I wore my ring all the time, then I might grow complacent to it. I might go all day every day without even realizing it's there. Since it's a symbol of the unending, unfailing love I have for one woman, this might essentially mean that my wife and my commitment to my wife might never cross my mind either. I might get so caught in my work, that I might forget who I'm working for. Who I really drag myself to work every day for, so I can afford to give her all the comforts she deserves. Who I'm really planting these flowers for, because she said she liked them and I want her to have a space she can be proud of. I might forget.

But every time I slide that ring on my finger, it's like renewing my commitment to her all over again. I renew my vows to love and cherish her above all others. I don't have to wait to see her to yearn for her, to think about her. I can get it 10-15 times a day when she's not even there.

Make a Joyful Noise...Literally

Not being able to sing has never stopped me from singing at the top of my lungs.

A Banana

I was hungry this morning, so I decided to eat a banana to tide me over. Unfortunately, I have discovered that the quickest way to stimulate hunger is to eat a banana. I'm more hungry now, than I was before I ate it. It's like my stomach got a little taste of the good life, and now it won't stop until it's completely satisfied. My stomach is quite loudly gurgling in outrage. Someone three cubes away just asked me if I was okay.

That banana woke the sleeping beast.

ACHOO

I used to think my roommate, JT, was full of crap when he told me that the sun made him sneeze. Every time we would go outside on a sunny day, he'd sneeze. I told him it was probably pollen in the air or something else that he was allergic to. He insisted it was the sun.

Turns out, he was probably right. Scientists have been doing extensive research for years to discover a connection between optical reflexes and nosular response. (Yes, I just made that word up.) While it is still unclear what parts of the brain exactly cause this and how the responses are connected, they have at least discovered that it is a real phenomenon.

For those of you that are wondering what this syndrome is called, you might have guessed that it had something to do with the title of this post. It goes by many names, but the latest is Autosomal Cholinergic Helio-Ophtalmologic Outburst syndrome (ACHOO).

If you'd like to read more about ACHOO, see the following links:
http://www.neatorama.com/2010/04/09/the-sunny-sneeze/
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/omim/100820

Sigh...

Have you ever heard a dog sigh? Like when you come home, and he realizes he has to drag himself up off the floor; to pull himself away from his busy, hectic schedule of lounging around the house; just to saunter to the door and acknowledge your entrance. And you can hear him give a noticeable, breathy sigh of irritation as he does it.

Or when you give your dog a command, like 'come', and he decides to stretch for several minutes, yawn, and look around for something more interesting to do; before sighing in disappointment when he realizes that inevitably he'll have to give in and obey after all.

Or even a sigh of contentment when he's found the perfect spot on the floor with optimal coolness, comfort, and stretching room. And he has managed to contort his body into just the right position to take advantage of all of those factors. And he lets out a sigh of satisfaction before dozing off into slumber.

How could anyone not be a dog person?

The Holey Shirt

I had a holey shirt I used to wear all the time. I'd had it for about 10 years, and I loved it. That is until my wife made me get rid of it. This was accomplished by her using it as a garage rag to clean up an oil spill. It's hard to wear something after that happens to it.

My wife hated the shirt because she said it was embarrassing to be seen with me in it. She said it made me look like I couldn't afford clothes that weren't in tatters. I argued that it was a fashion statement.

I told her that I used to get whistled at every time I wore it. Of course that could have just been the sound of the wind blowing through the myriad of holes in it.

Termination Due to Death

As if dying isn't enough, now you can be fired for it?!

I found this document on the Kansas - Department of Administration site. It is a How-To document on how to terminate an employee who has died. I just thought the concept was funny. I guess I took it for granted that this process would be automatic.

"Why isn't Bob at work today?"
"Oh, you didn't hear? He died over the weekend."
"Typical. He'll find any reason not to show up. If he was tired of working here, then he should have just quit. I think this is a bit of an overreaction."

Reference:
http://www.da.ks.gov/searchresults.htm?cx=012186268095503521215:purqxq18u24&cof=FORID:11&q=termination+due+to+death&sa=Search&siteurl=www.da.ks.gov/#1074

Who knew Satan was a fan of hockey?

The headline reads, "Satan gives Bruins Game 4 win in 2OT"

"Miroslav Satan scored a power-play goal after Buffalo was called for having too many men on the ice in the second extra period, and the Bruins beat the Sabres 3-2...on Wednesday night."

Honestly, I think I would have changed my name. My Dad was wondering if he pronounced it differently to avoid questions. Maybe sort of French-like, and it's "Say-tawn." Or sort of Arabic-like, and it's "Sach-tain." Or maybe like the fabric, and it's "Satin." Since names typically meant something in the family history, I'm a little afraid to ask what his family's heritage is. Maybe he's a descendant of Dr. Faust?

Reference:
http://msn.foxsports.com/nhl/story/bruins-sabres-game-4

The Immortal Soul Clause

In a completely original April Fools joke, GameStation revealed that it now owns the souls of thousands of its customers.  "The Immortal Soul" clause was added to demonstrate how few people actually read the Terms and Conditions for the website.  Participants choosing to opt-out of the agreement netted themselves a £5 GBP gift-voucher.  Only 12% of the customers did.

GameStation execs have assured customers that they will not be enforcing their legal claim to the souls.

http://www.bit-tech.net/news/gaming/2010/04/15/gamestation-we-own-your-soul/1

Carrots

I try to avoid carrots. I don't actually want my eyesight getting any better, because then I might discover that I'm not as good-looking as I think I am.

The Checker

I went to Wal-Mart the other day to buy some supplies. I had a gallon of milk and a gallon of tea. The checker asked me if I wanted my milk in a bag. I said, "Yes, but not my tea."

I wish I had a picture of her face at that moment.

Seedless Orange

I don't know why anyone would want to create a seedless orange. After you did it once, you'd never be able to do it again.

Genomic Music

Last weekend, I went to a symposium about the connection of art and biology. I learned that there are several science labs doing research on the sounds of DNA. They have taken several approaches to correlate the genetic code to musical notes. In one lab, they measured the wavelength of infrared light aborbed by a genetic sequence and related it to a wavelength of sound. By combining the sounds along the string of genetic sequences, they were able to find out the sounds of DNA.

The music produced is actually pleasing and melodious. Susan Alexjander, one of the scientists doing the research, says "the combinations of frequencies are just stunning. I find it very arresting. It sounds alive to me." She goes on to comment about the strong reaction the music elicits saying, "Perhaps on a very deep level the body recognizes itself - hears something familiar in the music."

To learn more, check out this article:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/222591.stm

Connected Vents

CC was telling me about a friend of his that had his office located next to the men's restroom. Obviously, the contractors for this particular building were not blessed with forethought. In order to save money, they connected both the guy's office and the bathroom to the same ventilation system. This opened a direct conduit between his office and the "delightful" aromas of the men's restroom.

Needless to say, the guy was known to take long walks right after lunch.

More Practice

A lot of men think that if they intentionally mess up some simple task that their wife assigns them, such as going grocery shopping, then they will get out of having to do the task in the future.

Those men never lived in my house. My wife's philosophy is that if you messed it up, then you obviously need more practice!

Bad Day

9:00 a.m.
DK: I tweaked my back this morning, just turned wrong or something, and now it hurts. It feels like I have a tight muscle that just won't relax. It sucks having to just sit around all day, because it feels better when I'm standing. I'm trying to find a comfortable position in my chair, so I keep moving just a millimeter to the right until I can find the spot.

Haven't found it yet. Will keep you posted.

10:00 a.m.
DK: Okay, the back still hurts, but now my armpit hurts as well. When I reached up to pause my CD, I ripped out an armpit hair. This goes along with the broken blood vessel in my hand that I got when I slammed my hand into my desk this morning, trying to unplug my clock.

This might be the day the bus gets me.

Will keep you posted...unless the bus gets me, and then I won't.

10:30 a.m.
AS: I am so sorry to hear you are in pain. Did you take anything for your back? Maybe some Ibuprofen will alleviate the muscle pain.

Whatever you do, stay away from the light. This is not the day the bus will get you. Put that out of your mind.

11:00 a.m.
DK: Back and hand still hurt. Head is starting to throb again. My armpit is down to a dull ache. Feet stink. Left butt cheek itches a little. A stupid gnat keeps attacking me every time I try to work. Prognosis is not good. I tried to take your advice and stay away from the light. However, when I flipped off the switch in my area, I was greeted with 17 complaining, angry voices. Had to flip switch back on. Can't help the light. I am currently hiding under my desk, because that is the darkest part I can find. Having to curl in tight ball. Losing feeling in my right leg.

Will keep you posted...unless paralysis spreads to fingers.

White Gauges

When I bought my Toyota Corolla, I made sure to get the "S" model, because it looked sportier. M.C. also has a Corolla, but he just has the "LE" model. He was trying to explain to me one day why his car was better...6-disc CD changer, fake wood accent, tinted windows, etc.

I stopped him and asked, "But do you have white gauges?"
He replied, "White gauges? What are you talking about?"
I said, "Well, the 'S' model has white gauges in the dashboard."
He just looked at me funny and reluctantly asked, "And that does what for you, exactly?"
I said, "Well, it means my car can go faster than yours. So, who cares about all that other stuff?!"

Naked People in Society

Mark Twain once said, "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society."

I'm not so sure about this. I used to walk by the window naked, and I'm pretty sure I had an influence on my neighbors. That's why they put up blinds.

2010 Razzie Awards

Okay, I'm sure by now everyone knows that Sandra Bullock won the Razzie for Worst Actress and the Oscar for Best Actress this year. This is the first time this has ever happened in the same year. (If you haven't seen her Razzie acceptance speech, it is definitely worth checking out.)

But did you know that Billy Ray Cyrus won the Razzie for Worst Supporting Actor for his role in "The Hannah Montana Movie"? Apparently, the audience did not believe that he put on a believable performance as Miley Cyrus' father. Which is to say that he obviously has a hard time playing himself.

Does Anyone Have a Question?

Have you ever wondered why there isn't a question and answer session at the end of a sermon? Office presentations, conference lectures, scientific presentations, and pretty much any other formal talk will have a question and answer session at the end. The purpose is to give the audience a chance to clear up any confusion they might have had about the talk. But it's also because the speaker wants you to believe and go along with what they are talking about. If you disagree with something they've said for some reason, then they want an opportunity to address your doubts and give evidence to persuade you to the other side of the fence.

I know I have had questions about sermons I've heard. Some point wasn't clear or fleshed out enough. Or even just that I've disagreed with something the preacher has said. So, why don't preachers have question and answer sessions at the end? If I had the question, then isn't it possible that someone else had it too. Maybe the topic is something that everyone should hear. You would think they would want the chance to be more persuasive and dissolve our doubts. Just something to think about.

A Dog and the Lottery

B.D. and I stopped to get gas this afternoon on the way home from work. There was a couple at the pump next to us also getting gas. While the man was pumping the fuel, the woman took their dog for a walk toward the grass at the front of the station. There was a sign stuck in the grass, advertising that all kinds of lottery tickets were sold at the gas station. With no hesitation at all, the little dog walked determinedly right up to the sign and peed on it.

When B.D. got back in the car, he asked if I had seen the dog. I said, "Yeah, he must have lost last night in the lottery."

Gretchen

K.E. had a Miniature Schnauzer name Gretchen. We used to take Gretchen for walks after school around the neighborhood. She had a peculiar quirk about her. When we'd get to some object, such as a fire hydrant or tree, she'd back up to it. Then, she'd lift one of her back legs and prop it up against the object. Once it was firmly planted, she'd lift her other back leg and prop it up against the object too. There'd she'd be with front legs on the ground and back legs up in the air, and she'd pee. When she was done, she'd walk herself back down and trot along to the next object.

Nobody ever knew why.

Carbon

If we all breathe in O2 (Oxygen), and we all breathe out CO2 (Carbon Dioxide); where does the Carbon come from? Considering that we're all made up of Carbon, that means we breathe out a piece of ourselves with every breath. So, there are little bits of all of us floating around the world.

And since we also breathe in CO2 when we breathe, that means we're breathing in pieces of each other with every breath. I wonder if those moments when we don't quite act like ourselves...when we act in a way contrary to our normal nature...if we aren't, in fact, acting like whoever's "piece" we just breathed in. It only lasts for a moment, because we quickly breathe it out again.

But by that thought process, since we're constantly breathing "pieces" in and out, how would we know when we're acting like ourselves and when we're just acting like a piece of the collective whole?

Stolen Dove

To: All Office Staff
Subject: Stolen Dove

To Whomever Stole My Dove:

Someone stole the Dove candy off my desk today while I was in a meeting. You know who you are. I was looking forward to that chocolaty goodness all day, and I was not happy to find it missing. I had been enjoying it one lick at a time for the last three days, wrapping it back up after each lick so I did not consume it too quickly.

If my candy is returned by the end of the day, no further action will be taken. As you all know, I work between the hours of 8ish and 5ish. And when I say work, I mean that I am in the office, although it is likely I am just checking up on my sports or reading personal e-mail. My Dove can be returned anonomously at any time I am not at my desk. My secretary will be sure to tell me who it was.

If it is not returned today, trash can checks will be conducted daily until the culprit is found. This is a serious offense, and I expect everyone to treat it with the respect it deserves.

The Boss

Fee Percentages

B.D. was working on this project at work. The project involves calculating fee percentages. So, they were given data where a $15.00 transaction had a $0.16 fee. B.D. said that the fee was about 1%. The project leader insisted that it was more like 4-5%. B.D. tried to convince him he was wrong, but the project leader would not be budged. Finally, the project leader suggested they go look at the fee calculation table. The table showed the fee percentage as 1.06667%, to which B.D. smiled in satisfaction. But to B.D.'s surprise and dismay, the project leader exclaimed that he didn't believe the table to be accurate. He then suggested that they needed to contact a Subject Matter Expert to get a second opinion.

My Rock

When something is going on in my life, such as someone screwing me over at work, I like to talk about it. I'll tell my friends or my wife, but I don't expect them to do anything about it. I don't need them to try to solve anything. I don't need them to worry.

I'm not going to them because I need comfort. I'm not sharing because I'm looking for answers. When I need these things, I go to the Lord. He and He alone is my rock.

The Sliding Tea Cup

Today at work, I dropped my glass of tea on my way to a meeting. The glass slid off my notebook, immediately tipped upside down, and plummetted to the floor; landing on its lid with a splat. The straw was crushed, the lid popped open on one side, and the glass was no longer a perfectly cylindrical shape.

What is utterly amazing, though, is the splash radius of the glass which was dropped only from about three feet up. Spilling only about a fourth of the contents of the glass, the splash managed to cover half of an entire wall...or basically a section about ten feet high and ten feet wide. And when I say covered, I mean literally covered...from the carpet all the way up to the ceiling tiles.

My project team was laughing in hysterics as I climbed up on a chair to dry off the tea dripping from the ceiling. The laughing got so bad at one point that they had to tell the clients to hold on a minute before putting the phone on mute. I have no idea how so little liquid could coat so much sheetrock, or how I miracuously managed to come out of the ordeal completely dry.

Monochrome Underwear

I don't understand guys who wear the same color underwear every day. Why eat pizza every day, when you could spend the week running through the whole buffet?!

Me, personally, I wear underwear in a myriad of colors, because I like a little excitement in my pants.

The Red Button

Don't you hate those signs in the movies that say, "Don't Push Red Button"? If you're not supposed to push it, then why do they have the button there to begin with?

The Meat Shield

I’m tired of being everyone’s meat shield in Mafia Wars. All these people that ask me to be in their mafia just so they can let me take a bullet for them during a fight. Every time I log on I have a message that says something like, “You participated in Don Somebody’s capo when he attacked Don Ubergod. You didn’t make it. In fact, you had such a poor showing during the fight that we have decided to penalize you $500,000 and 250,000 experience points. We’re not sure how somebody can be killed six times during the same fight, but somehow you managed it. While we’re impressed by this feat, we still think you might want to consider giving up on this game. It’s not for everybody. And when we say everybody, we basically mean you.”

Online College Courses

I took an online Fencing course in college. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

One True God...

I must be worshipping the One True God. After all, He gave me beef.

The Earthquake

B.D. was at a restaurant last night, and he overheard a guy at another table talking about how the people of Haiti deserved to die in the earthquake that hit last week. The guy said that it was God's way of ridding the world of those sinners and devil worshippers. He just hoped that God managed to get them all. The guy was smiling as he said this.

B.D. confronted the guy, telling him that he was a disgrace to all Christians.

I believe that there are accounts of God destroying cities or even whole civilizations to purge the land of sin. Sodom and Gomorrah. The Great Flood and Noah's ark. I even believe that there is a distinct possibility that He could still be doing this. Perhaps, there was truth to that guy's words. Perhaps, God did send that earthquake to purge the land of sin.

But should we really be happy about that? Should we be smiling and reveling in the death of thousands? Shouldn't life be sacred? Shouldn't we be sad that there were people that died and won't ever know Christ?

Christians of old pleaded with God to stay His hand. Abraham asked God to spare Sodom and Gomorrah. They weren't singing and dancing as they left the city to be destroyed. They were sad.

I have to agree with B.D. It would be disgraceful to be happy about this tragedy.

The Unexpected

Ten years ago, my mom asked me to write a letter about what I thought my life would be like in the coming future. In that letter, I told her that I expected to marry K.E., my serious girlfriend at the time. I honestly think I believed that I would. I certainly loved her enough. She was my world, and I couldn't picture my life without her.

As many of you know, I didn't end up marrying K.E. Something unexpected happened between us, and in a split second, I saw all of my hopes and dreams spinning away from me. I don't exaggerate, when I say she was my entire world. I know I shouldn't have let my life end up with her as the center of it, but a love and passion as I had for her can be blinding and unreasonable. And when the center was ripped from my life, the other things had nothing to cling to for support.

I became nothing. I had no identity. I had no purpose. I struggled on for several months; but things only seemed to get worse, as she reached out to me as a friend, but kept all hope of more firmly out of reach. One night, I'd reached the bottom. There was nothing left. I cried out to God through my tears. I told Him that He had one more chance to reach me...to end my pain and torment. One more chance, or I was going to end the pain myself. It hurts even now to write that. To know how close I came. I can still feel the tears on my face as I cried out in agony.

Unless you believe in the undead, it's quite obvious that I did not kill myself that night. However, it was much like I died that night...at least the old me. God began to work His miracles on my life. He set people in my life to help me find my way again; and when I was ready, He introduced me to my wife-to-be.

Ten years ago, there was no doubt in my mind that I would marry K.E. But God had someone else, someone unexpected, someone better in mind for me. His plans may not always be the same as mine. They usually don't work at the same time as mine. But in the end, they are ALWAYS better.

The Chapel Partner

When I was in elementary school, I attended a private Lutheran school. Every Wednesday morning, we had chapel, in which we’d go to the church and have a mini, church service. To help keep the younger kids in line and reduce their disruptiveness, the older kids were assigned a chapel partner from one of the younger grades.

As the older kid, it wasn’t uncommon for your young chapel partner to thwart your authority and totally disrespect you. It was rare to get a really good chapel partner, but that’s exactly what I got when I was in eighth grade. This kid was dynamite. He idolized me. He never acted up. He hung on every word I said. He even brought me gifts for Christmas and Valentine’s. In a word, he was perfect.

And I treated him like dirt. I was caught up in my own world of girls, grades, popularity, and sports. I never really gave the little guy much thought. I was decent enough to him when we were going to chapel, but it never occurred to me to get him something for the holidays. It just slipped my mind. And when he gave me my gift with such joy and elation, I was crushed to see the disappointment slowly spread across his face when he didn’t get something in return. All his friends were getting things. All his friends’ chapel partners had remembered to bring something. Everyone except me.

I still regret letting the little guy down. All because I was too stupid to see someone outside myself. I can only hope that my failure didn’t make him negative and cynical about people. I can only hope that someone else came along behind me and spoiled him rotten with kindness.

Autopilot

I need more excitement in my life. I feel like I’m stuck in a rut.

I get up in the morning, take a shower, and get dressed. I can only assume this all takes place and in that order, as this time of the day is all a bit blurry and done mostly on autopilot. (I have my suspicions, though, ever since that day I found myself standing in the bathroom in wet clothes.) Some other stuff happens too, but I think this gets the point across.

After that I eat breakfast while watching TV. This part I’m confident occurs every day and always tends to run over its allotted timeslot. I attribute this to a total lack of desire in both being awake at 5:30 a.m. and in knowing I’m preparing myself to go to work.

Work…encompasses about 11 hours of my day, including drive time. Beyond that, this whole period of the day is a bit hazy. I can never be sure that I’ve actually been or that I’ve actually done anything while there. But I keep drawing a paycheck, so it can’t be that bad.

When I get home in the evenings, the real fun begins! I spend some time working my farm (Farmville via Facebook), before I spend some more time slapping some people around (Mafia Wars via Facebook). I then bowl a few frustrating and disappointing games on the Wii until my wife gets home. At this point, I complain a lot about how long the food is taking, while I sit on the couch like a blob, watching her slave over the stove. After enduring a good chewing out about how I managed to shirk my chores again in favor of “playing those stupid games,” I finally get to eat.

About halfway through the meal, I will potentially nod off into my food, and my wife will be forced to clean me up. I somehow manage to shuffle to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and then I collapse into bed.

The next day I repeat this same exact routine. I’m just looking for something more. Something that doesn’t allow me to be on autopilot 20 hours of the day.

Dexter

There’s this nice, old man at work that always calls me “Dexter.” I’m not sure if he honestly doesn’t know my name or if he just sees me more as a “Dexter,” but I’ve never had the heart to correct him. As a rule, I am proud of my name, and I don’t like or permit people to change or butcher it. But I let it slide with this guy, because he’s old, and I figure he has more important things to remember than what my real name is.

The Ungraduation

When I was in my last semester of college, my advisor called me into his office. He told me that I wasn’t going to be able to graduate because I was two classes short. I ask him why, since I had taken all the classes on my degree plan. He said that two of my classes – Psychology of Sports and Psychology of Religion – weren’t going to count, because they weren’t deemed appropriate. For my degree, I had to take classes that gathered and analyzed statistical, clinical data…not just classes in the Psychology department. I argued with him that my degree plan had been approved by his department, and that this “issue” should have been caught earlier…not my last semester. It was all to no avail.

I found myself at home later that day praying to God, asking for guidance about what I was going to do. No sooner did the word “Amen” leave my lips, then the phone started ringing. It was my counselor. He told me that he had no idea how it happened, but somehow my degree plan had managed to get approved by the computer. I asked him what that meant, and he replied that it meant they were going to have to let me graduate with my current list of classes. He emphasized that this was all a bit unorthodox and unusual, but I had been lucky to slip through the cracks.

Luck had nothing to do with it. God had answered my prayers.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder...

But seeing someone after a long absence; and suddenly have them in your space, changing where things go and how things are done, nagging and questioning everything you do and why, messing up the quiet and peaceful routine you've established, and complaining and bellyaching about everything non-stop...makes the heart fly into an uncontrollable rage.

It's sad that some relationships are better from a distance. When there is time and space in-between to allow you to fool yourself into thinking that someone is more like the fantasy and less like the reality. When the brief moments of contact can delude you into thinking that someone is the sweet, nice person you always dreamed them to be.

But have them around you all day every day, and their true colors come shining through. It's like the false smile they used to get you to open the door and let them in is replaced by an evil snarl as they attempt to upset and rip your world apart.