Well, that took all of three days into the year to miss my first "daily deadline." But you know what, that's OK. I decided after I realized that I'd missed it that I would just have to write twice today to catch up, so this here is my first of a two part series called, "A Two-Part Series."
I love games. I'm not sure if I've talked about this yet and I'm not about to scan down the page and read through what I've already written to check, but I'll say it again: I love games. Any game. You could make one up right now and, odds are, I'll want to play it.
I've often tried to figure out exactly what it is that makes me so addicted, and I've narrowed it down to three things: entertainment, competition, and achievement. This is why I particular enjoy games online where I can compete with others, particularly my friends, and games where I can play for an extended period of time without having to restart or reload or beat it too quickly. Facebook, kongregate.com, the XBOX 360, they're all constant distractions and attractors haunting my world and calling my name. Whenever someone beats me? I have to play again... immediately... and do everything that I can to prove that I'm the best.
Entertainment is where my true passion lies. It's why I do the vast majority of what I do: I like to both entertain myself, but more importantly, entertain others. And when they're happy? I'm happy. I've always got my mind running with schemes and games to try on others to see what works.
As far as competition goes... I'm not sure what it is that drives me to want to beat other people. I think part of it is just wanting to be a part of something, to know that I'm at the very least involved, and at the very best, superior at something. Growing up I always felt that I was good at several different things; I've always prided myself on being diverse and competent at most anything I apply myself at. However, I never fully believed that I was the best at anything. I remember participating in an art competition where we basically had to draw whatever we want to on a certain size piece of paper, an 11"x17" if I remember correctly. I drew a picture of our school cafeteria. That's probably because that was the only free time I had in the 3 grade to draw without getting into some kind of trouble. On the back of the picture, I implored whomever would be judging the competition to keep in mind that I had "never won anything before," so that, if they were on the fence about whether or not my finely crafted Crayola creation was championship material or not? They would have a little extra justification to make their decision.
That probably also ties into my desire for achievement. One of my favorite aspects of playing Call of Duty online is "leveling up" every once and a while or competing challenges as you play against friends and strangers alike. It shows that I'm getting better. It gives me new weapons and "perks" to work with to further accelerate my achievements. It's addictive to say the least. You can probably guess where I was last night when I was supposed to be writing... Welcome to my world!
All of this explains why I played most every sport available in high school, why I hold the high score in nearly every facebook game that I'm privy to, why I spend at least a little time every night (if possible) hunting down strangers in the back alleys of a Kerbleckistan drug house or a smoking missile silo, my undying love for laser tag, and why I make up random games to play in my head as the day goes along.
But does it satisfy me? That, my friends... might be part two. I haven't decided yet. Stay tuned.
1.04.2010
1.02.2010
Class
I half-promised that I'd elaborate more on my experience at the Gator Bowl yesterday, so I guess I have to half-deliver. Already this writing every day thing has become a challenge, but that's how many commitments are at the beginning, they're hard to remember that you've even made them. Regardless, I did have the inspiration for a topic yesterday, but not the energy. Today, I have a measure less of inspiration, but the energy level is high enough to take a run at it.
I often find myself imagining what it would be like in someone else's shoes. I think that's part of what makes me a "people person," the fact that I try to envision how others think, how they see the world, try to anticipate what they'll do or say. That's how all the men of my family are, and it's likely what draws us to careers like sales. It's all about relating to people and understanding them.
So when my dad, Eric, Brandon and I were standing against the rail yesterday with the wind and rain at our back, and we could feel the gangrene slowly setting in at our feet, and when we were running out of things to say and didn't want to talk for fear of the cold seeping deeper into our bodies through our open mouths, I got to thinking. I thought about the symbolic nature of the weather, about how it was fitting for the event itself. This was the end of a man's career that had lasted over 40 years. He was forced out of his career, out of the only thing that he's even known, and God's response was to send bitter cold, blistering wind, and rain that fell like snow. He made it clear how he felt about it all.
With the feeling slowly trickling away from my body, my thoughts wondered to exactly what was going through Coach Bowden's head at that moment. It was about 10:25AM, just a few minutes before he was scheduled to walk into the stadium, and I tried to imagine just what he would be thinking. Was he angry? Pensive? Overwhelmed? Overjoyed? Reminiscing? All this ran through my head as scores of his former players walked in front of us on their way to meet Coach as he got off the bus. I wondered what he would think when he saw the dozens of men who he had led over the years coming to honor him. I wondered what I would feel. I wondered if anyone would ever know what it would be like to walk in his shoes. I doubt it. That's the thing about Bobby Bowden: there will never be another one like him. He's one of a kind, and, quite frankly, they just don't make men like him any more.
I kept right on wondering as the band played the fight song. This was one of the last times that he'd hear it. I wondered as the fans at the entrance of the walkway began to cheer louder and louder, signaling his approach. I thought how incredible difficult this must be for him, but at the same time how this has to touch his heart. This man gave everything that he had to this team, to this university, to these men, to these fans, and all that we could do was cheer, chant his name, wave signs that said "Thanks Bobby," and for some of us? Hold back a tear or two. After the game, he said that those moments, where he was standing right in front of us in that unforgiving weather, those were the hardest moments of the day, the only times that he almost cried, that he almost lost that strong exterior... but he didn't. He held it together, as he always has, and displayed one more time that unmatched level of sheer class that Florida State University has benefited from and witnessed for the past 33 years. We'll never see it again.
I can't express how much it meant to be watching and thinking all of this with my dad standing right next to me. Since I am my father's son, I know that he was probably thinking of many of the same things. And while Bobby's private life was never public, I imagine he was much the same with Anne and his children and grandchildren as he was with Warrick Dunn and Derrick Brooks and Charlie Ward. A good man... a great man. And standing there watching this great man who so many have revered and cherished for so long? It made me want to be better. It made me want to have that moment some day. I'm almost certain I'll never have thousands showing up to chant my name as I say my goodbyes, and I know I sure as hell wouldn't be able to hold back those tears. As the title says, I'm an emotional kind of guy. But I want to know what he was thinking on that day. I want to know what it's like to inspire people, to lead people, to have them look up to you and one day wonder just how I managed to do it all with such poise and dedication, such class.
One day, maybe I'll have that moment. For now, I'll have to savor the fact that I was there for his, watching him take it all in with his wife at his side. The signs all said it for us, but I'll say it one more time.
Thanks, Bobby.
I often find myself imagining what it would be like in someone else's shoes. I think that's part of what makes me a "people person," the fact that I try to envision how others think, how they see the world, try to anticipate what they'll do or say. That's how all the men of my family are, and it's likely what draws us to careers like sales. It's all about relating to people and understanding them.
So when my dad, Eric, Brandon and I were standing against the rail yesterday with the wind and rain at our back, and we could feel the gangrene slowly setting in at our feet, and when we were running out of things to say and didn't want to talk for fear of the cold seeping deeper into our bodies through our open mouths, I got to thinking. I thought about the symbolic nature of the weather, about how it was fitting for the event itself. This was the end of a man's career that had lasted over 40 years. He was forced out of his career, out of the only thing that he's even known, and God's response was to send bitter cold, blistering wind, and rain that fell like snow. He made it clear how he felt about it all.
With the feeling slowly trickling away from my body, my thoughts wondered to exactly what was going through Coach Bowden's head at that moment. It was about 10:25AM, just a few minutes before he was scheduled to walk into the stadium, and I tried to imagine just what he would be thinking. Was he angry? Pensive? Overwhelmed? Overjoyed? Reminiscing? All this ran through my head as scores of his former players walked in front of us on their way to meet Coach as he got off the bus. I wondered what he would think when he saw the dozens of men who he had led over the years coming to honor him. I wondered what I would feel. I wondered if anyone would ever know what it would be like to walk in his shoes. I doubt it. That's the thing about Bobby Bowden: there will never be another one like him. He's one of a kind, and, quite frankly, they just don't make men like him any more.
I kept right on wondering as the band played the fight song. This was one of the last times that he'd hear it. I wondered as the fans at the entrance of the walkway began to cheer louder and louder, signaling his approach. I thought how incredible difficult this must be for him, but at the same time how this has to touch his heart. This man gave everything that he had to this team, to this university, to these men, to these fans, and all that we could do was cheer, chant his name, wave signs that said "Thanks Bobby," and for some of us? Hold back a tear or two. After the game, he said that those moments, where he was standing right in front of us in that unforgiving weather, those were the hardest moments of the day, the only times that he almost cried, that he almost lost that strong exterior... but he didn't. He held it together, as he always has, and displayed one more time that unmatched level of sheer class that Florida State University has benefited from and witnessed for the past 33 years. We'll never see it again.
I can't express how much it meant to be watching and thinking all of this with my dad standing right next to me. Since I am my father's son, I know that he was probably thinking of many of the same things. And while Bobby's private life was never public, I imagine he was much the same with Anne and his children and grandchildren as he was with Warrick Dunn and Derrick Brooks and Charlie Ward. A good man... a great man. And standing there watching this great man who so many have revered and cherished for so long? It made me want to be better. It made me want to have that moment some day. I'm almost certain I'll never have thousands showing up to chant my name as I say my goodbyes, and I know I sure as hell wouldn't be able to hold back those tears. As the title says, I'm an emotional kind of guy. But I want to know what he was thinking on that day. I want to know what it's like to inspire people, to lead people, to have them look up to you and one day wonder just how I managed to do it all with such poise and dedication, such class.
One day, maybe I'll have that moment. For now, I'll have to savor the fact that I was there for his, watching him take it all in with his wife at his side. The signs all said it for us, but I'll say it one more time.
Thanks, Bobby.
1.01.2010
Scoreboard.
So I'm lying on the couch at my in-laws house in Port Orange, and I'm about ready to pass out, but I have to keep my daily commitment! It is the first of the year after all... and that's when these things are technically supposed to begin. Being that I'm absolutely exhausted, I'm going to keep this short and most likely expand on this all tomorrow.
The Gator Bowl was fantastic. Despite the 15 mile per hour winds, the constant, drizzling rain, and the unnaturally bitter cold for a Jacksonville New Year's Day, it turned out to be a beautiful day. The boys and I got to stand on the front of the rail as Bobby Bowden made his last walk into the stadium, and I managed to get a picture of the back of his head. We sat at the absolute furthest point from the field at the top right corner of the stadium. We sat in what was deemed the West Virginia section. And for the first ten minutes of the game, we had to deal with Mountaineer fans mocking the Seminole faithful with our own War Chant. And when one of the drunk, obnoxious hillbillies in front of us decided to turn around after their second touchdown made it 14-3, WVU, and say with his squinty, drunken eyes, "It's gon' get ugly!" ...it incensed me. There's nothing like talking trash in the first quarter. I'll admit, I've done it before, and I'm sure I sounded just as ignorant.
But after 26 years of being a sports fan, there's always one comeback that people like that are always forced to recognize. And when the full 60 minutes of football had been played, the sun was shining, the rain had gone away, and the Florida State Seminoles sent Bobby Bowden off into the sunset with a win for the ages. That's when I looked down in front of us to deliver the crushing blow to Skeeter and the gang, but they had already fled. But if they hadn't decided to get out of dodge just yet? Then I'd have said it to their face.
Scoreboard.
33-21, FSU. Go Noles.
The Gator Bowl was fantastic. Despite the 15 mile per hour winds, the constant, drizzling rain, and the unnaturally bitter cold for a Jacksonville New Year's Day, it turned out to be a beautiful day. The boys and I got to stand on the front of the rail as Bobby Bowden made his last walk into the stadium, and I managed to get a picture of the back of his head. We sat at the absolute furthest point from the field at the top right corner of the stadium. We sat in what was deemed the West Virginia section. And for the first ten minutes of the game, we had to deal with Mountaineer fans mocking the Seminole faithful with our own War Chant. And when one of the drunk, obnoxious hillbillies in front of us decided to turn around after their second touchdown made it 14-3, WVU, and say with his squinty, drunken eyes, "It's gon' get ugly!" ...it incensed me. There's nothing like talking trash in the first quarter. I'll admit, I've done it before, and I'm sure I sounded just as ignorant.
But after 26 years of being a sports fan, there's always one comeback that people like that are always forced to recognize. And when the full 60 minutes of football had been played, the sun was shining, the rain had gone away, and the Florida State Seminoles sent Bobby Bowden off into the sunset with a win for the ages. That's when I looked down in front of us to deliver the crushing blow to Skeeter and the gang, but they had already fled. But if they hadn't decided to get out of dodge just yet? Then I'd have said it to their face.
Scoreboard.
33-21, FSU. Go Noles.
12.31.2009
Short and Sweet
OK, so I'm going to keep this short and sweet, and you'll find out why in a second.
Eric and I just got to the hotel in Jacksonville and got up to the room, which, first off, is NOT a suite, but a room with two double beds and little else. That'll be fun. Second off, we've already had a nice middle-aged gentleman asking if we're headed to the Landing and need a ride.
"Uh... no... we're going later." I was raised to not get into cars (or vans for that matter) with strangers, and this guy was STRANGE. Regardless, I'm off point.
When I bought the tickets for the Gator Bowl I bought them in a special four pack. The first "special" thing that I realized after committing my order was that the tickets would be in the Big East section, which means that we'll have a much higher ratio of West Virginia fans in our section than we would on the other side of the stadium. Still, I'm holding out for the very real possibility that Jacksonville Municipal Stadium will be overrun with Garnet and Gold, so it won't really matter. One of the other special inclusions in the four pack is a lanyard badge that gets you into the Budweiser Tailgate Party before the game for free. When I first got all the tickets and paraphernalia in the mail, this seemed like the coolest part. It talked about how you got a free drink at the party and a couple other special offers. I chalked it up as awesome and haven't looked at all my swag until today.
Today... I looked on the back of one of the badges and found out that there was a SECOND side to the paper on the back of the badge that I hadn't even peeked at yet. On this side... was an offer... for HALF OFF OF LASER TAG.
Ladies and gentlemen, my ship has come in.
To put it in perspective for you, whenever I'm hanging out with anyone and they can't think of anything that they'd like to do, my first suggestion is always laser tag, even if I know they'll hate it. My parents have pictures from my childhood of my brother, father and I playing a homemade version of laser tag. For my fifteenth birthday, me and a handful of friends spent a good hour at the skating rink playing laser tag with the Beastie Boys "Intergalactic" blasting through the speakers, even though we requested anything but that song. Even since then, I've been addicted to the live experience. Honestly, I should get a membership.
So, long story short, Eric is one of a handful of people that ALSO loves to play laser tag, and since he and I both have passes that entitle us to half off the regular price, we're going to be out the door shortly, mowing down unsuspecting seven-year-olds and sniping oafish teenagers.
As my wife would say: SUPER PUMPED.
Eric and I just got to the hotel in Jacksonville and got up to the room, which, first off, is NOT a suite, but a room with two double beds and little else. That'll be fun. Second off, we've already had a nice middle-aged gentleman asking if we're headed to the Landing and need a ride.
"Uh... no... we're going later." I was raised to not get into cars (or vans for that matter) with strangers, and this guy was STRANGE. Regardless, I'm off point.
When I bought the tickets for the Gator Bowl I bought them in a special four pack. The first "special" thing that I realized after committing my order was that the tickets would be in the Big East section, which means that we'll have a much higher ratio of West Virginia fans in our section than we would on the other side of the stadium. Still, I'm holding out for the very real possibility that Jacksonville Municipal Stadium will be overrun with Garnet and Gold, so it won't really matter. One of the other special inclusions in the four pack is a lanyard badge that gets you into the Budweiser Tailgate Party before the game for free. When I first got all the tickets and paraphernalia in the mail, this seemed like the coolest part. It talked about how you got a free drink at the party and a couple other special offers. I chalked it up as awesome and haven't looked at all my swag until today.
Today... I looked on the back of one of the badges and found out that there was a SECOND side to the paper on the back of the badge that I hadn't even peeked at yet. On this side... was an offer... for HALF OFF OF LASER TAG.
Ladies and gentlemen, my ship has come in.
To put it in perspective for you, whenever I'm hanging out with anyone and they can't think of anything that they'd like to do, my first suggestion is always laser tag, even if I know they'll hate it. My parents have pictures from my childhood of my brother, father and I playing a homemade version of laser tag. For my fifteenth birthday, me and a handful of friends spent a good hour at the skating rink playing laser tag with the Beastie Boys "Intergalactic" blasting through the speakers, even though we requested anything but that song. Even since then, I've been addicted to the live experience. Honestly, I should get a membership.
So, long story short, Eric is one of a handful of people that ALSO loves to play laser tag, and since he and I both have passes that entitle us to half off the regular price, we're going to be out the door shortly, mowing down unsuspecting seven-year-olds and sniping oafish teenagers.
As my wife would say: SUPER PUMPED.
12.30.2009
So close...
...yet so far. That's one of my favorite sayings from my childhood. I still say it all the time. It's 11:03PM at the time that I'm writing this, and I've almost missed my "daily deadline." So close... but I've made it. I still have 57 minutes. I could ramble and ramble for nearly an hour and I'd still make it. HA!
Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, and while it's not my most favorite of holidays, and it's loosely a holiday at that, this one promises to be better than most. I'll be away from my loving wife and golden retriever in Jacksonville. That's not the good part. That part sucks. I'll be hanging out with my brother-in-law, Eric, until my Dad and old college roommate and groomsman arrive most likely late into the night. We, my friends, will be going to the Gator Bowl.
I bought tickets to the Gator Bowl the day that they went on sale, December 1. On the rather surprising news that Bobby Bowden would be retiring after Florida State's bowl game, and the subsequent request he made to stay in Florida for his last game as well as to face his old team, the West Virginia Mountaineers, rumors swirled that the Seminoles would be headed for Jacksonville Municipal Stadium and the Gator Bowl. It was either that, or maybe the Champs Sports Bowl... or maybe the bowl selection committee would do what my alma mater did and treat a legend with a smaller measure of respect that he deserves, than he earned. I took a calculated risk and bought a prepacked four pack of tickets and crossed my fingers. It paid off.
I grew up a Florida State fan. Although both of my parents are from the fine state of Georgia, and even though I was born there in the fine city of Moultrie, GA, I've spent all but 3 months and two semesters of my life living in the Sunshine State. That being the case, my father understood that he'd need to choose between the Gators, Canes, and Noles at some point, and for whatever reasons, it was the Garnet and Gold that got his allegiance. He stays a die hard Georgia Bulldogs fan to this day, and an Alabama fan on the side, but in our house it was always Florida State that was on the TV on Saturdays. I watched Bobby Bowden lead his team to the promised land and the NCAA National Championship twice, more memorably against Michael Vick and the Virginia Tech Hokies in 1999. I remember Warrick Dunn and Chris Weinke. Unfortunately, I also remember Chris Rix, Jeff Bowden, and the slow, painful fall from grace that my Noles have suffered over the past 10 years.
At one of our homecoming games, I remember a group of students about 4 rows deep and 10 seats wide unfurling a "FIRE JEFF BOWDEN" banner. It had to be a harbinger of things to come. No more than 5 years later it was a similar sentiment from the boosters of the football program that wanted to see the same fate for Jeff's father and the second-winningest coach in NCAA football history. In fact, Bobby Bowden broke Bear Bryant's record before Joe Paterno passed him later down the line. Regardless, 14 straight years finishing in the top 5 and 2 National Championships apparently aren't enough to earn you the right to call your own curtain call. Bobby Bowden is essentially being forced out of his coaching role before he's ready to step down.
That's what makes this trip so important, so great. While I'm not crazy about being away from Meghan on New Year's, while I'm not crazy about the day or Eve itself, I can't wait to the go to the Gator Bowl. I can't wait to be there in person for a legend's ride into the sunset. I'm not sure how I'll react or what I'll be thinking when the final seconds tick off the clock, but I know that I'll be telling the story to my children, to my grandchildren, and to anyone that will hear me tell it. Whatever that story may be, I'll be eager to share it. And hopefully I'll be close enough to get a glimpse of the legend himself before it's all said and done. And if not? I'll just get to say it again.
So close... yet so far.
Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, and while it's not my most favorite of holidays, and it's loosely a holiday at that, this one promises to be better than most. I'll be away from my loving wife and golden retriever in Jacksonville. That's not the good part. That part sucks. I'll be hanging out with my brother-in-law, Eric, until my Dad and old college roommate and groomsman arrive most likely late into the night. We, my friends, will be going to the Gator Bowl.
I bought tickets to the Gator Bowl the day that they went on sale, December 1. On the rather surprising news that Bobby Bowden would be retiring after Florida State's bowl game, and the subsequent request he made to stay in Florida for his last game as well as to face his old team, the West Virginia Mountaineers, rumors swirled that the Seminoles would be headed for Jacksonville Municipal Stadium and the Gator Bowl. It was either that, or maybe the Champs Sports Bowl... or maybe the bowl selection committee would do what my alma mater did and treat a legend with a smaller measure of respect that he deserves, than he earned. I took a calculated risk and bought a prepacked four pack of tickets and crossed my fingers. It paid off.
I grew up a Florida State fan. Although both of my parents are from the fine state of Georgia, and even though I was born there in the fine city of Moultrie, GA, I've spent all but 3 months and two semesters of my life living in the Sunshine State. That being the case, my father understood that he'd need to choose between the Gators, Canes, and Noles at some point, and for whatever reasons, it was the Garnet and Gold that got his allegiance. He stays a die hard Georgia Bulldogs fan to this day, and an Alabama fan on the side, but in our house it was always Florida State that was on the TV on Saturdays. I watched Bobby Bowden lead his team to the promised land and the NCAA National Championship twice, more memorably against Michael Vick and the Virginia Tech Hokies in 1999. I remember Warrick Dunn and Chris Weinke. Unfortunately, I also remember Chris Rix, Jeff Bowden, and the slow, painful fall from grace that my Noles have suffered over the past 10 years.
At one of our homecoming games, I remember a group of students about 4 rows deep and 10 seats wide unfurling a "FIRE JEFF BOWDEN" banner. It had to be a harbinger of things to come. No more than 5 years later it was a similar sentiment from the boosters of the football program that wanted to see the same fate for Jeff's father and the second-winningest coach in NCAA football history. In fact, Bobby Bowden broke Bear Bryant's record before Joe Paterno passed him later down the line. Regardless, 14 straight years finishing in the top 5 and 2 National Championships apparently aren't enough to earn you the right to call your own curtain call. Bobby Bowden is essentially being forced out of his coaching role before he's ready to step down.
That's what makes this trip so important, so great. While I'm not crazy about being away from Meghan on New Year's, while I'm not crazy about the day or Eve itself, I can't wait to the go to the Gator Bowl. I can't wait to be there in person for a legend's ride into the sunset. I'm not sure how I'll react or what I'll be thinking when the final seconds tick off the clock, but I know that I'll be telling the story to my children, to my grandchildren, and to anyone that will hear me tell it. Whatever that story may be, I'll be eager to share it. And hopefully I'll be close enough to get a glimpse of the legend himself before it's all said and done. And if not? I'll just get to say it again.
So close... yet so far.
12.29.2009
In all fairness...
...like I said, I'm a starter, not a finisher. But damn it, I'm not going to quit now.
I'll start by saying that I could never have dreamed of a better wife. Meghan is beautiful, intelligent, caring, thoughtful, considerate, loving, funny, adorable, and strong. She's the kind of woman I hope to be some day.
On our way home from Christmas with my family up in the North Georgia mountains, she managed to stay awake for all of the drive but about 30 minutes just after downtown Atlanta. It has to be some kind of record. Usually, once that constant road vibration starts, it turns the car into the perfect place to nap. Not unlike waves gently lapping at the shore or the songs of crickets keeping you company on a starry, country night, the soothing sounds of I-75 make her as relaxed as can be. Next time I'll bring along a recording device for all those nights that she finds me in the office, saying she can't sleep. "Well have I got the perfect solution for you..."
But, as always, I'm getting off the point.
She suggested that this year, for my "New Year's Resolution," that I should dedicate myself to writing more. But not just more: every day. With her checking e-mails and facebook every night, I have the perfect accountabilibuddy to make sure that I'm keeping pace. I agreed. Writing more never killed anybody apart from a handful of our founding fathers and biblical heroes, right?
And then, on a related note, I heard that one of the best ways to make sure you keep your resolutions is not to set an alarm, tell all your friends, or set up punishments for yourself, but to start now. As in right now. The moment that you think of it. So, here I am, not in the moment but in the mindset, writing. I'm not giving up. I'm not standing idly by. I'm active. I'm thinking. I'm... resolute.
I know that I probably won't be able to write every single day. Odds are, somewhere along the way, I'll be away from a computer for a full 24 hours. In today's day and age, though, that's becoming a slimmer and slimmer possibility. A more likely scenario is that, in these first few days and weeks, I'll be reminded by my ever-loving wife that I still have something to do before bed in addition to brushing my teeth and tucking her in, and I'll spend the wee hours of the night trying to think of something interesting and insightful and ingenious. I work best under pressure. Hopefully all this will teach me to work best period. We'll see. Keep watching. I'll be here.
I'll start by saying that I could never have dreamed of a better wife. Meghan is beautiful, intelligent, caring, thoughtful, considerate, loving, funny, adorable, and strong. She's the kind of woman I hope to be some day.
On our way home from Christmas with my family up in the North Georgia mountains, she managed to stay awake for all of the drive but about 30 minutes just after downtown Atlanta. It has to be some kind of record. Usually, once that constant road vibration starts, it turns the car into the perfect place to nap. Not unlike waves gently lapping at the shore or the songs of crickets keeping you company on a starry, country night, the soothing sounds of I-75 make her as relaxed as can be. Next time I'll bring along a recording device for all those nights that she finds me in the office, saying she can't sleep. "Well have I got the perfect solution for you..."
But, as always, I'm getting off the point.
She suggested that this year, for my "New Year's Resolution," that I should dedicate myself to writing more. But not just more: every day. With her checking e-mails and facebook every night, I have the perfect accountabilibuddy to make sure that I'm keeping pace. I agreed. Writing more never killed anybody apart from a handful of our founding fathers and biblical heroes, right?
And then, on a related note, I heard that one of the best ways to make sure you keep your resolutions is not to set an alarm, tell all your friends, or set up punishments for yourself, but to start now. As in right now. The moment that you think of it. So, here I am, not in the moment but in the mindset, writing. I'm not giving up. I'm not standing idly by. I'm active. I'm thinking. I'm... resolute.
I know that I probably won't be able to write every single day. Odds are, somewhere along the way, I'll be away from a computer for a full 24 hours. In today's day and age, though, that's becoming a slimmer and slimmer possibility. A more likely scenario is that, in these first few days and weeks, I'll be reminded by my ever-loving wife that I still have something to do before bed in addition to brushing my teeth and tucking her in, and I'll spend the wee hours of the night trying to think of something interesting and insightful and ingenious. I work best under pressure. Hopefully all this will teach me to work best period. We'll see. Keep watching. I'll be here.
3.30.2009
Riding the Wave
As I've come to learn over this crazy ride called "life," there are going to be highs, and there are going to be lows. It's easy to remember both, and mostly difficult to remember what comes between them. I won't rehash my life history to give examples, I'll just move on to what's more recent.
Over the past few weeks, I've gone from hating my job and wanting to simply cash it all in to appreciating my job and wanting to be the best that I can be. It's amazing how that transformation can take place. You see, about three weeks ago I found out over the course of a few days that the three big projects that I'd been working for several months were all going to be put on hold, one of them permanently. Now, I didn't have any pipe dreams about winning all three, especially not the one that I firmly lost, but I certainly expected to get at least one of them. Of course, that's the problem with high expectations: sooner or later, you're going to fall short. This was one situation where everything seemed to just fall apart around me.
I felt defeated, alone, unworthy... all the things that go through your mind when you come out on the losing end of things, or least when you thought everything was going right only to find out that you were completely in the dark about the reality of the situation. Plenty of people will console you and try to find the right solution to cure your ills, but, really, there's no good answers. There's nothing that can really make you feel better at that point, and I was at that point.
But, as the opening paragraph asserts, there are going to be those lows. And, as hard as it is to believe in that moment, there are going to be some highs as well. After those three projects fell apart, I realized that I had nothing going on as far as my work was concerned. I was essentially starting from scratch with no leads on the horizon. But here we are, three weeks later, and I'm busier than I've been in months. All of sudden, I don't feel that sense of failure, I don't feel defeated, and I certainly don't think I'm unworthy. Quite simply, things just... turned around.
Isn't that amazing? Isn't it just preposterous how things can go from completely awful to wonderful in that short of a swing? We've all seen it happen before. My only recourse is to thank God for what he's given me... to thank him for the opportunities that others haven't received. I thank him every day for my family, especially for my wife and for the relationship that we have. Because throughout all these highs and lows, as we're riding the wave, there are constants in ours lives. In my life, it's God, Meghan, and my family. They will always be there for me in the greatest moments and in the worst, and they've proven that over time.
I'm not quite sure that there's a point to all this, and I don't think that I meant to have one in the end. I guess all I'm really trying to say is cherish what you have, whatever state it may be in, because you're there for a reason. If you're down, then thank God that he gave you a sense of humility, a sense of powerlessness, and a sense of humor, because that's the only way you'll stay focused on who's able to get you out. And if you're up, then thank God for your blessings, for all the things you have that others don't, and to look where you might be able to help pull someone else up to your level.
OK, I know I said I wouldn't give any examples, but I feel like this is a story that needs to be told.
Back before Christmas, Meghan and I went to the pet store to pick up food for Chief. As we got out of the car, we found a rather substantial sum of money (I won't say how much, but it certainly wasn't just a few bills). It was just sitting there, right in the middle of the parking lot. I immediately picked it up and flagged down the family that was leaving in their car, asking if it was theirs, but they said it wasn't. Not knowing quite what to do (if we give it to the store, how do we know someone won't just keep it for themselves?), we held onto it, not doing anything with it. On the way home, we discussed what we might do: give it to a church, buy things for a families for Christmas, etc., something charitable in general, but we never really settled on anything. I started calling it "the Jesus money," since it felt like God just dropped this in our lap to aid to some worthy cause. And for the longest time now, it's just been sitting there, on our kitchen counter, waiting to be delivered.
As I type this now, that stack of money is right here, on my desk, about to get sent out. Earlier this month, Meghan and I got a letter from one of my dearest and oldest friends, Hannah. This is a girl who has been through more than her fair share of lows in her life, from a murdered brother to the other one contracting brain cancer, from the church kicking her pastor father out to a painful addiction that almost took her life, and managed to survive it all. Back when we first met each other, she always talked about how God had called her to foreign missions. Somewhere along the way, that fell completely out of the question. But somehow, someway, God has brought her back to him, and has given her the opportunity to go do what she's been called to do. All she needs is prayer, love, and sponsorship.
So as Meghan and I talked and considered how much we wanted to give, it hit me. This was our worthy cause. This is what we stumbled across the Jesus money for. Here, in one fell swoop, was a way to make sure that this money went back to his cause, and for his purposes. We're giving this directly to one of God's greatest miracles that I've had the privilege to witness, and we're helping to take someone who was once in one of the lowest of low places back to the highest of highs where God intended. I think I have the point now.
I'll wrap this up with one of my favorite verses, the one that essentially changed my life back when I was 15. It comes from Matthew, and it's actually rather prophetic here. I've put the part that I've always known in bold, but the rest is too good to leave out.
9 35Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. 36When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 37Then he said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. 38Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field."
10 1He called his twelve disciples to him and gave them authority to drive out evil spirits and to heal every disease and sickness.
2These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon (who is called Peter) and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; 3Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; 4Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.
5These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: "Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans. 6Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel. 7As you go, preach this message: 'The kingdom of heaven is near.' 8Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. Freely you have received, freely give."
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