Sin g Son g Searcher
Nature Sings...
Why am I too deaf to hear?
People offer me their lives in pleasantly wrapped packages,
Why do I toss them aside?
God looks down from heaven and weeps.
Why do I not catch his tears & wash myself clean?
A word fitly spoken is all I can muster;
With quiet resignation I stand in my space.
A line here, a thought there.
Ideas, they mean nothing.
My mind open and closed,
Why this tragic human race.
Freaking Hang Nails
I used to have a horrible problem with hang nails. They are not only painful, but a constant source of irritation. The tips of my fingers would bleed and sting when I yanked off the little pieces of semi-dead skin. Then after years of suffering, I decided to take some clippers to work to keep in my desk, and whenever a little hang nail appeared I would clip it instead of tearing the skin away. Voila…no more hang nail problems. I thought I had bad cuticles or something, but it turns out I was just taking the wrong approach to deal with it.
When thinking about this the other day, I began to wonder what other painful or annoying situations in my life I was blaming on some inherent problem when it was only my flawed behavior that was causing the agony. Most glaring was my tendency to argue about everything. Having a constant desire to be “right” isn’t something I can even deny after having been told about by so many people for so many years. I’m just not sure what to do about it.
No one wakes up in the morning and says, “I can’t wait to be wrong about a bunch of stuff today.” Often my arguments are meant to be constructive in the problem solving sense. Now, in my mid-thirties, I realize I have surrounded myself with people that fit two categories: 1) they either like to argue and have some skill at it (e.g. Adam or Christian) or 2) they refuse to engage me at all (e.g. my wife and my mother). However, I think I would better off in some relationships if I could, at the very least, tone down the rhetoric, or even better just keep my mouth shut after a certain point.
When thinking about this the other day, I began to wonder what other painful or annoying situations in my life I was blaming on some inherent problem when it was only my flawed behavior that was causing the agony. Most glaring was my tendency to argue about everything. Having a constant desire to be “right” isn’t something I can even deny after having been told about by so many people for so many years. I’m just not sure what to do about it.
No one wakes up in the morning and says, “I can’t wait to be wrong about a bunch of stuff today.” Often my arguments are meant to be constructive in the problem solving sense. Now, in my mid-thirties, I realize I have surrounded myself with people that fit two categories: 1) they either like to argue and have some skill at it (e.g. Adam or Christian) or 2) they refuse to engage me at all (e.g. my wife and my mother). However, I think I would better off in some relationships if I could, at the very least, tone down the rhetoric, or even better just keep my mouth shut after a certain point.
A Quick Word About Welfare
As a fairly die-hard libertarian you might think you know where I stand on the welfare issue. I have stated before in this blog, one of the primary pillars of my political ideology is summed up in the statement, “When the government does something that we should be doing for ourselves it makes us a weaker nation.”
How does this relate to welfare? First let me define the term. By welfare, I am mean financial support for a parent who is the full-time primary caregiver for a child without sufficient support from a spouse or the child’s other parent. Traditionally this would be the child’s mother, and I will assume this generalization for the remainder of the post.
When the situation of the single parent without adequate outside support is examined in light of the statement regarding government action in the first paragraph, the exception becomes obvious. The full-time mother is not supposed to be providing the financial support for the family unit. The role she can best to fulfill is providing nurture, protection, and guidance for her children. Ideally, the financial support would come from a husband, the children’s father, family members, or private charitable organizations, but with the explosion of single parent homes and the failure of fathers, the private scenario is not nearly as prevalent as most of us would like it to be.
Bottom line, I want our government to provide financial assistance for the full-time single parents even though the incentives it creates may not be ideal. My heart tells me that a child should not be taken from a mother, and my reasoning tells me that most often the mother has the instinct and incentives to best raise their own children. I just don’t see another solution.
How does this relate to welfare? First let me define the term. By welfare, I am mean financial support for a parent who is the full-time primary caregiver for a child without sufficient support from a spouse or the child’s other parent. Traditionally this would be the child’s mother, and I will assume this generalization for the remainder of the post.
When the situation of the single parent without adequate outside support is examined in light of the statement regarding government action in the first paragraph, the exception becomes obvious. The full-time mother is not supposed to be providing the financial support for the family unit. The role she can best to fulfill is providing nurture, protection, and guidance for her children. Ideally, the financial support would come from a husband, the children’s father, family members, or private charitable organizations, but with the explosion of single parent homes and the failure of fathers, the private scenario is not nearly as prevalent as most of us would like it to be.
Bottom line, I want our government to provide financial assistance for the full-time single parents even though the incentives it creates may not be ideal. My heart tells me that a child should not be taken from a mother, and my reasoning tells me that most often the mother has the instinct and incentives to best raise their own children. I just don’t see another solution.
The Typical Marriage Conversation
We had just returned home from church on a Wednesday evening in early September. I was using the bathroom with the door open as most families with small children are likely to do as my wife stalked me in the hall waiting for me to take the baby so she could have her turn.
I asked my wife, “What is the thermostat set on?”
She replied, “I just turned it down.”
I smiled as it is one of my pet aggravations when questions are not answered. After a few seconds I asked again in a deliberately calmer tone, “What is the thermostat set on?”
“It’s set on 74, but I guess I’ll turn it down to 73. I’m sure you’re all sweaty from holding the baby along with your extra layer of fat.” The fat comment was not as biting as it might seem. To put it in context, we had recently been discussing how I was uncommonly and uncomfortably warm most of the time, and I had hypothesized that my weight gain was like the layer of blubber on a walrus or a man wearing a wet suit. Her next comment, no doubt in response to my repeat of the exact same question, actually made me laugh out loud. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” She spouted in frustration.
Once again attempting to be more congenial that the situation required, I finished saying, “I wanted to know what the thermostat was set on.”
The conversation continued with her explaining how she inferred the meaning of my question from my previous comments. I couldn’t stop laughing. By the way, Solo laughter is one of the worst things that can happen during a typical marriage conversation. The dilemma was clear. She had made the correct read, and reluctantly facilitated my desired result. However, my question was not answered, and the communication process had definitely broken down. I was to please with my observation to be the least bit upset, and she was soon distracted with her turn in the bathroom (with the door closed) so no harm was done in the making of this blog. I am a very blessed man. (see below)
I asked my wife, “What is the thermostat set on?”
She replied, “I just turned it down.”
I smiled as it is one of my pet aggravations when questions are not answered. After a few seconds I asked again in a deliberately calmer tone, “What is the thermostat set on?”
“It’s set on 74, but I guess I’ll turn it down to 73. I’m sure you’re all sweaty from holding the baby along with your extra layer of fat.” The fat comment was not as biting as it might seem. To put it in context, we had recently been discussing how I was uncommonly and uncomfortably warm most of the time, and I had hypothesized that my weight gain was like the layer of blubber on a walrus or a man wearing a wet suit. Her next comment, no doubt in response to my repeat of the exact same question, actually made me laugh out loud. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” She spouted in frustration.
Once again attempting to be more congenial that the situation required, I finished saying, “I wanted to know what the thermostat was set on.”
The conversation continued with her explaining how she inferred the meaning of my question from my previous comments. I couldn’t stop laughing. By the way, Solo laughter is one of the worst things that can happen during a typical marriage conversation. The dilemma was clear. She had made the correct read, and reluctantly facilitated my desired result. However, my question was not answered, and the communication process had definitely broken down. I was to please with my observation to be the least bit upset, and she was soon distracted with her turn in the bathroom (with the door closed) so no harm was done in the making of this blog. I am a very blessed man. (see below)
Slumdog
I watched the film "Slumdog Millionaire" last night, and was blown away byt he effective use of storytelling and character development. The scenes of the children running through the slums really captured the feeling and look that I imagine exists in the slums of India's larger cities. However, there were two things that the movie left me with.
The first is the nausea that words cannot accurately describe that came over me as I looked around my comfortable yet modest living room (by American standards) after seeing the horrors forced upon the children in film. My brother who has done some mission work in India confirms that it is commonplace for children to be maimed or blinded in order to increase their earning potential as beggars. It is definately time for me to re-read "Revolution in World Missions" . You can receive a free copy by following the preceeding link.
The second thought pales in importance, but I was curious about the strong concept of "destiny" that consumed Jamal in the film. I wonder how a muslim growing up in a predominanly Hindu culture gained that belief. It appears to be summed up in the phrase: "It is written". Maybe Danielle (one of my only readers) could shed some light on this, and if we are lucky even a few of her own thoughts on the film as she has just returned from India.
The first is the nausea that words cannot accurately describe that came over me as I looked around my comfortable yet modest living room (by American standards) after seeing the horrors forced upon the children in film. My brother who has done some mission work in India confirms that it is commonplace for children to be maimed or blinded in order to increase their earning potential as beggars. It is definately time for me to re-read "Revolution in World Missions" . You can receive a free copy by following the preceeding link.
The second thought pales in importance, but I was curious about the strong concept of "destiny" that consumed Jamal in the film. I wonder how a muslim growing up in a predominanly Hindu culture gained that belief. It appears to be summed up in the phrase: "It is written". Maybe Danielle (one of my only readers) could shed some light on this, and if we are lucky even a few of her own thoughts on the film as she has just returned from India.
A Quick Story About Gran
My Grandad recently passed away in his sleep at the age of 88 from the side effects of chemotherapy. My Gran (pictured with my brother and I) has dementia, and had to be moved to an assited living environment. She has always seemed to be a proper grandmother. Kind, gentle, mannerly, & frail.
One day last week at 1:30 am she decided she must go to the market. Her dementia was severe enough that she couldn't see how bad an idea this might be, but not severe enough for her to forget that the attendents would not let here leave. Sologically, she decided to climb out her window. Although it was just over a 10 foot drop, she came through with flying colors. Despite her subtrefuge, the nurse realized that she had left the room, and came out to steer her back inside. A struggle ensued, and ended with the nurse being thrown down the hill. My mom spoke to the flustered nurse on the phone, and she was supposedly covered in mud from head to toe. Eventually law enforcement and emergency services were called, and Gran was taken to the hospital for liability reasons.
As far as I know Gran will be allowed to stay, and no charges were filed. When my aunt commented on the bandages covering the bruises on Gran's wrist, she simply said that she had gotten into a fight. They asked her who won, and Gran replied, "Well, as far as I'm concerned I did." I'm not one to use this phrase often, but I can't help but say..."YOU GO GIRL!"
A Quick Word about the Economy
One of the main ideas in my undergraduate class on investment was the balancing concepts of “fear and greed” as motivators for investment. My imagination still plays back this scene:
Dr. Martin - “The stock market is motivated by what…Mr. Ross?”
Me - “Fear and greed…”
Dr. Martin – “Fear and greed indeed”
People, by nature, want stuff, and in some cases that stuff can be purchased with money. This gives money value, and is the basis for all capitalistic economic theory. As with anything of value, money can be rented out for a fee to those who have a greater immediate need. This is call investment, and it is done to make more money, those with a surplus rent out (invest) their money. This is the greed motivator or the reason to invest; more euphemistically known as self-interest.
The problem with letting some one else use your money is simple. You risk that the money may not be given back. This is the fear motivator, or reason not to invest.
The U.S.
Unfortunately, these regulations give a false sense of security for two reasons. The first is that complexity in business and life makes it nearly impossible for these regulations to be enforced. Second, the creation of these regulations is influenced by powerful institutions simple seeking their own interests.
The solution: remove many of the cumbersome, complex, and ambiguous regulations, and allow the natural fear of losing what you have to balance out the desire to obtain more. This equilibrium will promote personal investigation and responsibility which will encourage people to invest in what they know and in what they trust. This will challenge those seeking investment to be more transparent and more trustworthy if they desire those funds. When individuals struggle to make more informed personal business choices it produces a better economy, and builds a stronger people.
It's a...BABY!
Profanity
Last week I heard my two year old son clearly and emphatically say the word, "Crap", but he was only repeating what he had just heard me say. Most people probably don't consider that word "profane", but it really got me thinking about the nature of profanity.
I have come to the conclusion that whether I said "crap", "flim-flam", or "Fuck" (yeah, I dropped it right in the middle of my blog; feel free to comment.) it would not have mattered. The issue is not the syllables that my mouth forms, but the fact that I have allowed words to come from my mouth without thought or proper contol. This problem is perfectly described in the Bible by the James:
"If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person's religion is worthless." James 1:26 ESV
I have come to the conclusion that whether I said "crap", "flim-flam", or "Fuck" (yeah, I dropped it right in the middle of my blog; feel free to comment.) it would not have mattered. The issue is not the syllables that my mouth forms, but the fact that I have allowed words to come from my mouth without thought or proper contol. This problem is perfectly described in the Bible by the James:
"If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person's religion is worthless." James 1:26 ESV
Flying Cars
My wife can verify that when I am stuck in traffic I complain about the empty promise of flying cars. I mean...it's almost 2009, and still no flying cars. I'm starting to think it just isn't going to happen. So, while driving in the recent week I began thinking about the incentives for and against flying cars, and I finally determined why we don't have them.
The government has built us so many nice roads to drive on there just isn't sufficient demand for them. (I still work for the transportion cabinet so don't just assume I'm lobbying for less government involvement in road building...but that is exacly what I am doing.)
The government has built us so many nice roads to drive on there just isn't sufficient demand for them. (I still work for the transportion cabinet so don't just assume I'm lobbying for less government involvement in road building...but that is exacly what I am doing.)
Another Poem
Foolishness
I went down
My head hit the ground
For a moment this all made sense
I opened my eyes
Looked upon azure skies
And nature confirmed my offense
She curves with the sand
And waits for no man
Regrets are a slap in the face
A slap I can take
But one can’t fate fake
Or run a backwards race
-BSR-
I went down
My head hit the ground
For a moment this all made sense
I opened my eyes
Looked upon azure skies
And nature confirmed my offense
She curves with the sand
And waits for no man
Regrets are a slap in the face
A slap I can take
But one can’t fate fake
Or run a backwards race
-BSR-
Again and again
Slide the blade across;
Tie the noose with quiet precision.
Glare the yellow blinding flash;
Shriek squawk the ghostly companions.
Push push-pull the currents surge;
Heaving into the clenched familiar.
-BSR-
(I'm not sure if this one if finished, but I felt like posting it today.)
Tie the noose with quiet precision.
Glare the yellow blinding flash;
Shriek squawk the ghostly companions.
Push push-pull the currents surge;
Heaving into the clenched familiar.
-BSR-
(I'm not sure if this one if finished, but I felt like posting it today.)
Day Dream Strikes Back
I was watching Star Wars - The Empire Strikes Back for at least the 100th time a few nights ago, and I began considering which character I would most resemble if I were inserted in the plot line. Always having an affinity for the Force, I never much identified with Han (or Chewie for that matter.) Pre-Jedi Luke was quite the wiener and way too goofy. Vader and the Emperor just wanted power, and I understand that. I'm not sure where their desire came from, but at least the Emperor seemed to enjoy himself while conducting his evil deeds. Vader was just his dismal toady.
The hard fact of life is that I’m just a guy sitting in front of a monitor somewhere on a battleship, and not even one of those guys in the main room that get too look at the big screen to see all the action. I’m looking over efficiency estimates for converting hyper-drives versus replacing hyper-drives on aging mid-range fighters.
The sad thing is I don’t even know who I would trade places with given the opportunity. Maybe Lando. He always seemed to rise to the top, and find himself in a variety of interesting positions, and he got to wear a cape. I think that is a nice look.
The hard fact of life is that I’m just a guy sitting in front of a monitor somewhere on a battleship, and not even one of those guys in the main room that get too look at the big screen to see all the action. I’m looking over efficiency estimates for converting hyper-drives versus replacing hyper-drives on aging mid-range fighters.
The sad thing is I don’t even know who I would trade places with given the opportunity. Maybe Lando. He always seemed to rise to the top, and find himself in a variety of interesting positions, and he got to wear a cape. I think that is a nice look.
As of Yet
As of yet
Meaning is found from the inside out;
Or is it the outside in?
A search for the truth won’t be attacked,
But shrugged away with a grin.
-BSR-
Meaning is found from the inside out;
Or is it the outside in?
A search for the truth won’t be attacked,
But shrugged away with a grin.
-BSR-
Tattle Tail
I am feeling somewhat conflicted. Yesterday while walking through the parking garage on my return from lunch, I noticed a thuggish looking fellow urinating next to his car. To some of you this may not seem shocking, but the building/ garage where I work are relatively new, monitored completely by surveillance cameras, and not open to the public. This kind of thing just doesn't happen. I had noticed the same guy sitting in his car playing loud R&B music as I left for lunch an hour earlier, and assumed he wasn't a state empoyee. As I walked by the security desk I mentioned the incident to the officer. He immediately grabbed his radio, and headed across the lobby to take some kind of action.
Here is where I start to regret my actions. The first rule I learned as a child on the playground is "Do Not Tattle." Tattling is an admission that you can't handle the situation yourself, or are seeking attention by ratting some one out. Both things cool guys just don't do. I mean, the guy wasn't hurting anyone. He was just sitting in his car enjoying some music, and he had to pee. It would have been at least a half mile walk to the nearest public restrrom, and with the heat the urine would dry up in no time. Also, I'm actually in favor loosening our standards on outdoor urination. I was a little concerned the guy might be up to some other sort of ill stuff, but I'm not sure that warranted ratting on him.
Tough call indeed. WWYD?
Here is where I start to regret my actions. The first rule I learned as a child on the playground is "Do Not Tattle." Tattling is an admission that you can't handle the situation yourself, or are seeking attention by ratting some one out. Both things cool guys just don't do. I mean, the guy wasn't hurting anyone. He was just sitting in his car enjoying some music, and he had to pee. It would have been at least a half mile walk to the nearest public restrrom, and with the heat the urine would dry up in no time. Also, I'm actually in favor loosening our standards on outdoor urination. I was a little concerned the guy might be up to some other sort of ill stuff, but I'm not sure that warranted ratting on him.
Tough call indeed. WWYD?
Eureka!
I have several friends who refer to themselves as “beer snobs”. While I don’t like the aftertaste of that moniker, I do prefer beers with a full taste which unfortunately happen to be more expensive. I don’t know how it happened. I wish I preferred a less costly light beer, but it just isn’t the case. My wife and I are moderate yet consistent drinkers, but cost had not been an issue until we dropped to one income about a year ago when the baby was born.
So, the search for a good beer priced under $7 a six pack began. Here are some beers we commonly drank along with their local prices:
Anchor Steam $9.99 I only drank it once due to the price.
McEwan’s India Pale Ale $9.99
Newcastle $8.99
Corona $7.99
Goose Island India Pale Ale $7.79
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale $7.79
BBC Altbier $7.49
BBC American Pale Ale $7.49
BBC = Bluegrass Brewing Company
Widmer Brother’s Hefeweisen $7.99
Red Hook - ESB $7.49
Samuel Adams – Boston Lager $7.49
My favorite by far is the McEwan’s IPA, which of course is the most expensive. My wife’s favorite is Goose Island IPA which I think has a little to much of a citrus finish. Her brother Chris introduced us to Red Hook ESB (early spring beer) which we enjoy, but can only get below $7 when it is on sale.
So, while browsing in Kroger’s beer aisle about a month ago I came across Tap Room 21 – Moe’s Pale Ale. Six-pack price $6.49. I take it home and…Eureka! A beer we both enjoy for under $7. I went back to get another that weekend and they were actually sold out of the Pale Ale. It’s not a great beer, but it is a really great value. I haven’t been able to find much info on the brewer. If you try it leave a review in the comment of this post.
Here is a site that describes the different categories of beer.
Enjoy!
So, the search for a good beer priced under $7 a six pack began. Here are some beers we commonly drank along with their local prices:
Anchor Steam $9.99 I only drank it once due to the price.
McEwan’s India Pale Ale $9.99
Newcastle $8.99
Corona $7.99
Goose Island India Pale Ale $7.79
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale $7.79
BBC Altbier $7.49
BBC American Pale Ale $7.49
BBC = Bluegrass Brewing Company
Widmer Brother’s Hefeweisen $7.99
Red Hook - ESB $7.49
Samuel Adams – Boston Lager $7.49
My favorite by far is the McEwan’s IPA, which of course is the most expensive. My wife’s favorite is Goose Island IPA which I think has a little to much of a citrus finish. Her brother Chris introduced us to Red Hook ESB (early spring beer) which we enjoy, but can only get below $7 when it is on sale.
So, while browsing in Kroger’s beer aisle about a month ago I came across Tap Room 21 – Moe’s Pale Ale. Six-pack price $6.49. I take it home and…Eureka! A beer we both enjoy for under $7. I went back to get another that weekend and they were actually sold out of the Pale Ale. It’s not a great beer, but it is a really great value. I haven’t been able to find much info on the brewer. If you try it leave a review in the comment of this post.
Here is a site that describes the different categories of beer.
Enjoy!
As it Turns Out...
(Fictional Snippet)
While driving home from work on a particularly stressful Thursday, my heart began to flip-flop erratically in my chest. Of course I’m thinking heart attack, and a slight dizziness overwhelms me as I cut across traffic to make a left turn en route to the nearest hospital.
It was my future that began to flash before my eyes, and all that I would never experience or accomplish. The thoughts of a legacy that would never exist began bouncing around my brain almost to the point of distracting me from the symptoms that brought the thoughts into existence.
I came back to reality as the emergency room physicians were questioning me about possible causes for the arrhythmia. I explained that I had no significant history of heart disease in my family, but that I was experiencing a high level of stress in my workplace. I also told the doctor I thought there was a chance it could have been caused by my recent inhalation of fumes from the combustion of paint and aluminum which I was exposed to while smoking crack from a Coke can. What do you know…As it turns out it was the crack.
While driving home from work on a particularly stressful Thursday, my heart began to flip-flop erratically in my chest. Of course I’m thinking heart attack, and a slight dizziness overwhelms me as I cut across traffic to make a left turn en route to the nearest hospital.
It was my future that began to flash before my eyes, and all that I would never experience or accomplish. The thoughts of a legacy that would never exist began bouncing around my brain almost to the point of distracting me from the symptoms that brought the thoughts into existence.
I came back to reality as the emergency room physicians were questioning me about possible causes for the arrhythmia. I explained that I had no significant history of heart disease in my family, but that I was experiencing a high level of stress in my workplace. I also told the doctor I thought there was a chance it could have been caused by my recent inhalation of fumes from the combustion of paint and aluminum which I was exposed to while smoking crack from a Coke can. What do you know…As it turns out it was the crack.
Ramble On
During my nighttime rendezvous with the cable news channels a few days ago I noticed a story repeating about a young girl who got into a violent argument with her school bus driver that climaxed with the bus driver’s daughter joining the melee. I rode the bus as a youngster, and saw some things that make this look like…well, child’s play. So, why is it on the news?
The story was the video. It’s not everyday you see a cute teenage girl in complete hysterics, (maybe every other day, but not every day) and this made for effective television. Viewers flock to rubberneck at this type of incident. It is one of the reasons I enjoy the television program Intervention. The people’s lives are so different than mine that I can’t help but gawk.
So, why does the documentary about the exploited single mother in Bangladesh working in a factory for pennies an hour to feed her family not get the same ratings? The images are just as extreme, but her life isn’t that different than mine. She gets up and goes to work. I get up and go to work. She comes home and cooks dinner. I come home and watch my wife cook dinner. I’m sure you get the picture. Actually, it was an interesting documentary. They ended up bringing her to the U.S. and showing her the garments she made being sold in Walmart for several times the price it cost for her labor. She then returned to Bangladesh and funded by the filmmakers, founded some kind of labor union I think.
The point being:
People are addicted to sensory stimulus.
Everyone is attracted to things that are extraordinary.
We are really all the same, and struggle in the same existence.
This woman and her kids would have starved years ago if Sam Walton hadn’t built stores to make a couple bucks for his family.
I should help my wife make dinner more often.
The story was the video. It’s not everyday you see a cute teenage girl in complete hysterics, (maybe every other day, but not every day) and this made for effective television. Viewers flock to rubberneck at this type of incident. It is one of the reasons I enjoy the television program Intervention. The people’s lives are so different than mine that I can’t help but gawk.
So, why does the documentary about the exploited single mother in Bangladesh working in a factory for pennies an hour to feed her family not get the same ratings? The images are just as extreme, but her life isn’t that different than mine. She gets up and goes to work. I get up and go to work. She comes home and cooks dinner. I come home and watch my wife cook dinner. I’m sure you get the picture. Actually, it was an interesting documentary. They ended up bringing her to the U.S. and showing her the garments she made being sold in Walmart for several times the price it cost for her labor. She then returned to Bangladesh and funded by the filmmakers, founded some kind of labor union I think.
The point being:
People are addicted to sensory stimulus.
Everyone is attracted to things that are extraordinary.
We are really all the same, and struggle in the same existence.
This woman and her kids would have starved years ago if Sam Walton hadn’t built stores to make a couple bucks for his family.
I should help my wife make dinner more often.
Do What You Love?
A lot has been written and a lot has been said about choosing a career you love. "Do what you love and the money will follow." This is advice I have given and received. It is best demonstrated by the Jerky Boys. A couple of guys from Queens, New York whose passion is making prank phone calls. They dial random numbers, and create comedic situations with re-occurring characters. After practicing this craft for countless hours, they made some rudimentary recordings which circulated around the country. Through hard work and good marketing, they parlayed these seemingly worthless talents into a lucrative recording career and even a movie deal. Now you can pick up their DVDs and CDs at Blockbuster and truck stop kiosks all across this great land of ours. The Jerky Boys are probably sitting fat, dumb, and happy on a beach with a cell phone in each hand. This "doing what you love" thing sounds like a good philosophy for developing that personal career plan or vision statement.
Here is where a 30-something bureaucrat like me, who has had numerous jobs that were barely tolerable much less enjoyable, sees a few holes in this principle.
First, the odds of the supply of people's passions matching the demand for…well, everything, is so astronomical that it is safe to say that it could not possibly occur. This means not everyone will get to live out their dreams no matter what the magazines tell you. There just aren’t enough people who aspire to be dish washers or farm laborers, and there aren’t enough roles in movies to accommodate all the would-be actors in Hollywood. There will be people who pursue their passion and are rewarded with success. Then there are those whose pursuit is exemplary, but their goals remain unrealized. I have to ask myself, "Of the six billion or so people alive, why should I be one who gets to make a living doing something I love?"
The second problem, which runs rampant in American culture, is the confusion of happiness and pleasure. Though not official allow me to define each as simply as possible. Pleasure is the physical or emotional response derived from an enjoyable experience or activity. Happiness is a sense of well-being or contentment. To further clarify, for me, it would be pleasurable to sleep in and eat biscuits for breakfast tomorrow. I could obtain happiness from getting up an hour early exercising and eating two bananas. I recently read an essay by Paul Graham called "How to Do What You Love", and he hits very close to the mark when he writes:
The prophet Jeremiah wrote, "The heart is deceitful above all things, And desperately wicked; who can know it?" (Jeremiah 17:9). The third problem I see with doing what you love is that many people do not know what it is they truly love. They create an ideal or a fantasy that that even if fulfilled wouldn’t bring the happiness that was imagined. Although I don’t claim to know her motivations, as my wife was finishing her bachelors degree she decided to pursue a career in archaeology. After spending a long, hot summer sifting dirt and cataloging tiny shards of pottery or glass, she realized it wasn’t the career she thought it was. To often people see the lure of red carpets, big games, book tours, and adoring fans. They miss the painful failures, the mind-numbing repetitions, the frustrating hours of study, and most of all the hand of the creator (or randomness of chance) required to reach the end of glory road.
So, where does this leave us? In futility, chasing an elusive and deceptive goal? Or maybe with the old Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young line, "if you can't be with the one you love; love the one your with." There is failure, success, disappointment, and contentment no matter which cross-section of individuals is sampled. At this point, the only advice I can muster is…Lay aside unproductive fantasies, and keep the vision before you. Hear the words of Jim Elliott, a man who lived a life of excellence and suffered to true contentment:
Here is where a 30-something bureaucrat like me, who has had numerous jobs that were barely tolerable much less enjoyable, sees a few holes in this principle.
First, the odds of the supply of people's passions matching the demand for…well, everything, is so astronomical that it is safe to say that it could not possibly occur. This means not everyone will get to live out their dreams no matter what the magazines tell you. There just aren’t enough people who aspire to be dish washers or farm laborers, and there aren’t enough roles in movies to accommodate all the would-be actors in Hollywood. There will be people who pursue their passion and are rewarded with success. Then there are those whose pursuit is exemplary, but their goals remain unrealized. I have to ask myself, "Of the six billion or so people alive, why should I be one who gets to make a living doing something I love?"
The second problem, which runs rampant in American culture, is the confusion of happiness and pleasure. Though not official allow me to define each as simply as possible. Pleasure is the physical or emotional response derived from an enjoyable experience or activity. Happiness is a sense of well-being or contentment. To further clarify, for me, it would be pleasurable to sleep in and eat biscuits for breakfast tomorrow. I could obtain happiness from getting up an hour early exercising and eating two bananas. I recently read an essay by Paul Graham called "How to Do What You Love", and he hits very close to the mark when he writes:
"…almost anyone would rather, at any given moment, float about in the Caribbean,The bottom line is that pleasure only leads us to the desire for more pleasure, but properly focused discipline is an ingredient to happiness in the long term.
or have sex, or eat some delicious food, than work on hard problems. The
rule about doing what you love assumes a certain length of time."
The prophet Jeremiah wrote, "The heart is deceitful above all things, And desperately wicked; who can know it?" (Jeremiah 17:9). The third problem I see with doing what you love is that many people do not know what it is they truly love. They create an ideal or a fantasy that that even if fulfilled wouldn’t bring the happiness that was imagined. Although I don’t claim to know her motivations, as my wife was finishing her bachelors degree she decided to pursue a career in archaeology. After spending a long, hot summer sifting dirt and cataloging tiny shards of pottery or glass, she realized it wasn’t the career she thought it was. To often people see the lure of red carpets, big games, book tours, and adoring fans. They miss the painful failures, the mind-numbing repetitions, the frustrating hours of study, and most of all the hand of the creator (or randomness of chance) required to reach the end of glory road.
So, where does this leave us? In futility, chasing an elusive and deceptive goal? Or maybe with the old Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young line, "if you can't be with the one you love; love the one your with." There is failure, success, disappointment, and contentment no matter which cross-section of individuals is sampled. At this point, the only advice I can muster is…Lay aside unproductive fantasies, and keep the vision before you. Hear the words of Jim Elliott, a man who lived a life of excellence and suffered to true contentment:
"Wherever you are - be all there."
Time
“I have just been so busy!” is often spoken as a complaint, but worn as a badge of honor. I've never been one to...have trouble relaxing, so some that read this might think I'm just looking for a reason to be lazy. (Stephanie!) Even in my downtime I'm coninually pushed to feel like I'm falling behind or missing something. (See Link to Blog # 1 )
I'm not advocating sitting around doing nothing...wait a minute, actually I am. People need to spend time allowing thoughts to unwind in their mind, and allowing tension in their body to ooze out, but it is more than that. I am setting a goal to protect my family for business. I want to be niggardly with the time that has been given to me, and fight against the current of business. It sounds silly, but when people say, "Everything has just been so crazy here," I want to be able to reply, "that's too bad, but we've been really relaxed and happy."
“Time is the coin of your life.” - Carl Sandburg
I'm not advocating sitting around doing nothing...wait a minute, actually I am. People need to spend time allowing thoughts to unwind in their mind, and allowing tension in their body to ooze out, but it is more than that. I am setting a goal to protect my family for business. I want to be niggardly with the time that has been given to me, and fight against the current of business. It sounds silly, but when people say, "Everything has just been so crazy here," I want to be able to reply, "that's too bad, but we've been really relaxed and happy."
“Time is the coin of your life.” - Carl Sandburg
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