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.

Self-confidence and the Complement

I have and will always hold myself to a higher standard than the world. If I am happy and satisfied with myself and my abilities, then that is all that matters. I don't depend on other people to get my reassurance and complements, because people will rarely give it just because and almost will never give it when it is warranted. By not depending on it, I'm never disappointed. I always get exactly enough from myself.

Adrift on the Snow

Here's to you, Mr. Asinine Snow-Plower-Man, who thought it would be funny to plow the snow into a 3 ft high snowdrift in front of my driveway! And here's to you, Mr. Jackass Neighbor, who saw me digging my car out of aformentioned snowdrift, after I lost control on the ice and careened into it, and quickly ran into the house to avoid helping me!

Nothing is Impossible…

B.D. says that he doesn’t like Easter. He said he can’t accept a holiday that celebrates a man coming back from the dead…a feat which he claims could never happen. It’s an impossibility in B.D.’s mind. Nobody could come back from the dead. Dead is dead.

So, I asked him if it’s impossible for a man or for a God? He said for a man. Then, he amended with, “What’s impossible for a god?”

That’s my point exactly. Nothing is impossible for a God. You can’t judge God or His Son by what a man can do. If you do that, then I agree 100% that it’s impossible.

To this, B.D. said that “when you put a god in a man with even the slightest doubt that he will be seen as a man, and [knowing that] a man can do what a man can do,” it’s impossible that Jesus could come back from the dead.

But that thing we know as Jesus was just a vessel. A body. Clothes. Dressing Him up in that body could no more diminish who He was underneath than dressing me up in women’s clothes would diminish that I’m still a man underneath. God was still underneath the “clothes” of Jesus, therefore so was His ability and power.

Gertrude with an Attitude

My dad got a new GPS system, which he named Gertrude. He said that Gertrude sometimes gets an attitude if he doesn’t take the route she sets up for him. He said he has actually heard her sigh and grumble before she says that familiar word, “Recalculating.” I don’t hear it with my GPS system, so I guess he must have gotten the upgrade to “Gertrude with an Attitude.”

I was telling a delivery driver about my dad’s experiences, and he said he’d love to have the “Gertrude with an Attitude” software. He said he’s driving all the time, and it would be funny to have her say things like, “Left! Left, dammit! I said left at the next street! No, your other left!” or “You missed the turn, you idiot…again!” or “Why am I even here? You obviously don’t feel the need to listen to a word I say. Fine! If you think you can do it better than me, then you find the best route!”

I know I’d enjoy having this software with me when I’m taking trips by myself. It would be just like having my wife in the car with me!

That Person

I want to know what happened. What happened that somehow I became the calm, sane person in my family? Me…the person whose temper is renowned for being the explosive equivalent of a block of C4…and about as stable too. Now, when confronted with dire, unexpected decisions that have to be made in the next 2 seconds and on which the fate of the entire human race rests in the balance, I am the one that stays cool and levelheaded. (Okay, maybe a tad bit dramatic there, but I think you get the point.) When the situation requires poise and rational thought, I’m an unemotional rock.

My wife…not so much. She jumps into the situation face flushed, arms waving, screaming at the top of her lungs, and crying. All before she’s asked a single question or fully understands what’s going on and what options are open to her. I spend more time trying to calm her down than dealing directly with the problem at hand. In fact, I honestly believe that where I feel myself start to slip and lose it is listening to her manic, irrational, ridiculous thoughts. There is a time for emotion and passion, but I don’t believe that time is in every situation! And patience…don’t get me started on that. Yesterday is not fast enough for my wife!

At no other time in my life have I been able to stay so calm, sane, and clear during pressure situations. I just want to know what happened. How did I become that person?

Earphones

M.C. has a pair of aircraft carrier-grade earphones that he brought to work to help drown out the sounds of conversations going on around him. They have allowed him to work in a virtual vacuum. That is until J.S. started talking. M.C. said that J.S. talks so loud that he can hear him even through the earphones. So, basically these things can drown out a jet taking off from an aircraft carrier, but they can’t drown out one little Nepalese guy?!

Perhaps, the earphone company needs a new rating system. Next, you’ll be reading that the Deluxe Aircraft Carrier-Grade XForce 1 earphones are guaranteed to block up to 65% of J.S. sound.

Deathmatch

I never understood those computer games where the goal ends up being to kill other players. Isn’t there enough to do in the game, such as killing the computer monsters or completing the quests? That’s why I never played the Deathmatch mode in games like Doom. I wanted to kill the monsters and complete the puzzles, not just run around and see how many times I could frag people.

I mean in those games it boiled down to finding the respawning site. Then, you basically just stand there and shoot the person repeatedly every time they try to spawn into the game. This process of spawn, shoot, die, repeat will last until you finally run out of ammo. It’s just pointless.

Besides, you can still shoot your buddy in Cooperative mode. I used to let my stepfather walk into the rooms first and then shoot him in the back. I’d always follow with an innocent, “Oh my gosh! That imp just shot you.” I don’t know that he ever bought it. Especially when my frag total was higher than my kill count at the end of the level.