Lightning Rod

Several years ago I went to this conference talking about leadership.  One of the speakers was this little Hawaiin guy named Wayne Cordeiro. Now this guy is a pastor at a big church in Oahu, and what he talked about that day back when I was young and innocent, is going to impact this blog, and my life, immensely.

Wayne was speaking about stress management and he presented this idea of seeking a lightning rod.  The concept is simple.  We all have stress and we can let that stress build so that we cannot function, or we explode, or we just up and quit, OR we can seek someone to help us reduce that stress.  Someone we can tell everything to reduce the tension.  This person, or so Wayne says, should be outside of the workplace or really outside the circle of influence and this person, this lightning rod, needs to be able to keep their mouth shut.

So I started thinking about that and this blog when it hit me.  You are my lightning rod.  You are outside of my sphere of influence because you don't even know who, where, what I am.  It doesn't matter if you keep your mouth shut, what you say cannot come back to me.  I guess its entirely possible that someone may figure out who I am, but the chances are astronomical unless I give some ridiculous hints, or flat out tell you (psst, I am not going to do that).

So lets forget about the niceties and let me vent.

Well I have this coworker.  He is a native here.  A nice enough guy, but he has some serious issues.  One, he is lazy.  You cannot make him work for shit.  He has this great tendency to start a project and NEVER finish it, but he insists on starting another one, and another one, and, well you get the idea.  Second, he is the most proud man I have ever met.  He can never admit that he does not know how to do something so he tries to do everything.  He has, in just two years, completely destroyed a roof of a large building, ruined a water pump, dismantled and completely screwed up a chainsaw, two lawnmowers, a sander, crashed and totaled a car, and wasted several thousands of dollars from the non-profit where we work. Third, he is a liar, and not a very good one.  He has tells.

If you are not offended by Southpark and would like to learn more about tells please check out this video: Pinewood Derby The lesson begins at about 2 minutes, but the entire video is worth a looksy especially for anyone who has ever been involved in scouts.

Back to the story,  yesterday, the little guy (he is little, the size of my 9 year old so lets call he Wee-Man) shows up where I was working.  He starts asking me about some material that was used.  Sounds like no big deal, but what happened is he used material that belongs to our non-profit to build some things for someone in the community in an effort to make a little money.  Well, it seems that our boss found out and is a little pissed and wants to be reimbursed for the cost of the materials.  What Wee-Man did was tell the boss that while he used a little of the material I used the bulk of it.

So Wee-Man showed up to try and "trick" me into saying that I had used the material.  Now here comes the tells.  Anytime he lies, which is a lot, he pretends to not remember anything, even stupid things like having lunch together or even what the weather was the day before, then he starts making this movements.

Anyway, he shows up and starts asking me about the material implying that I used it for some sort of personal  side project.  I walked him around our facility and showed him every place the material had been used, all here on the campus except what he stole from us.  Funny thing is he helped me with almost every single project, but when I would say, "We did that together, don' you remember?" he would look at me as if small woodland creatures were crawling out of my ass.  A sort of slack jawed, far off gaze, head tilted slight to the side, with an occasional chin rub or back of the neck rub.  No answer, just a dumb ass look from a dumb ass guy.  I just want to punch the little goober right in the face, but alas, I cannot.

Immediately after this chat I called the boss who was also lied to by this little jackass.  Thank God he knew that Wee-Man was blowing smoke up his ass too.  Actually, despite our difficulties, the boss and I almost always agree on Wee-Man.  Agree that he is an egotistical, pompous, lying, little, little, little man.  He is currently on the way out, phew.

Speaking of my boss, Elijah, he is still a douche.

This is where I can vent.  No one I work with knows anything about this site, thank God, but my partner Sommer and I both do a little writing about our everyday/professional life.  Anyway Elijah commented on something I wrote with a snarky little comment directed at something Sommer wrote, not me.  I guess his intention is that I will run home and tell Sommer about it. He probably expects that I will do something to rectify the situation as well.

What a douche.

He doesn't even have the balls to confront one of his charges himself.

Thanks for your time and for listening.  I feel so much better.

Am I really that critical?

So I have been reviewing my last couple of blogs and I see a lot of words like douche, stupid, and liar. To be honest with you it has really started to bother me.

I thought about this for a while than sat down and had a really tough conversation with myself that went something like this:

Self: Hey.

Self: Hey.

Self:  Looks like you have been a little harsh on people lately.

Self: Yeah, you know you're right.  It's just that I am a little tired and cranky lately.  You know that I still really haven't recovered from my trip to the states, PLUS I have been working a ton since I got back, and....

Self: Sounds like excuses.

Self: You're right, its just.....well....its just nothing.  You're right.  I'm sorry.

Self: Why don't you try looking for the best in people for a change?

Self: Ok, sounds good.  See ya.

Self: Later.

So today I spent some time looking for the good around me, and here is what I found:

Today I went to pick up some stuff for a coworker of mine.  This coworker is out of the country right now and has been so for a few weeks all the while her stuff has been at this lady's house.  The entire time, several weeks, this stuff has sat in this lady's house.

Who is this lady? Just a lady.  Not a coworker, not a friend of my coworkers, not anyone.  Just a lady.  Anyway, she was helping this coworker out by watching the stuff just to be nice.  To top it off, the stuff filled this lady's spare room even though her kids were coming to visit and were going to have to sleep somewhere else so she could help out my coworker.

Sacrifice.

One of my kids has been gone for a few days.  He was at a camp having fun with his friends.  Then camp was up in the mountains at a really cool place, and he had a GREAT time.  So I went to go pick him up, and in front of all his fronts he started walking towards me saying:

"Dad, I really need a hug."

He came up to me and gave me a big hug and started to tell me all about his time, his new friends, and all the food he ate.

Love.


I live in a neighborhood with guards.  It is not because I am rich, nor is there a bounty on my head, nor is this country so dangerous that we need guards all around just to buy some milk.  The reason we have guards is because that is the culture here.  Every neighborhood has a guard.  That is just how it goes.

Well, my guard and I talk.  We share things about our lives, about our home countries, about our families.  I would like to call him a friend.  It turns out that I spent the holidays in the United States visiting my family, and he did the same, but he was in his home country.  Anyway, today was the first time I have seen him so he started asking about my trip.  We didn't have a long time to talk, but we are going to sit down this week to chat.

Friendship.


It dawned on me today that I have been spending an inordinate amount of time focused on myself.  My days have been spent thinking about how I have been wronged, slighted, stolen from.

Is that what I have become?  A selfish, whiny, little biatch!?

Sometimes I forget to look up.  Not up, up, but up.  Up to the savior, the creator of the universe, up to view Christ.  When I am looking at Christ, it is really hard to be pissed about my own circumstances.  When I am looking up all I can see is my savior giving up everything to be like me, to know me, to save me.  All I can see is love, is sacrifice, is friendship.

Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.

John 15:13

So here is the challenge.  

Look up.  

Quit bitchin' about your circumstances. 

Live life (not some miserable tit for tat type of life, but a real life, a free life, a grateful life).       

Does it ever appear that the entire world is stupid, except for you?

We live in the emerging world.  What exactly is the emerging world you ask?  Good question, to which the answer, the best I can figure, is the third world with internet.  If you have spent anytime time in the third world, or emerging world, you will agree that at times it is not safe to be a foreigner, especially at night.

So today, my kid was at school.  That school happens to be quite a ways away and directly across the MOST DANGEROUS city in the country from where we live.  Now my kid is no pansy, nor is he small.  He is 16 but is already head and shoulders taller than most of the adult males here (he is very big and they are very small) so I don't usually worry about him.  We even let him use the bus to get around with one rule:

He cannot walk through this city in the dark.

Like I said, the city is dangerous, and the bus stop to get to our house is in the most drug filled, prostitute laden, robbin' the foreigners part of town.  So.....no walking in the city at night.

Well today he had an event that kept him at school late.  Now, you also need to know that he goes to an expatriate school.  Everyone of his classmates is from the good ol' US of A, and the vast majority of the parents work for similar non-profits as Sommer and I.  To top it off, since we are all North Americans living in the emerging world, most of us are well off, compared to the natives, and everyone has a car which cannot be said for the local population.

Also useful for the remainder of the story is the knowledge that to arrive at our house my son needs to take 3 buses to get home.   One bus from his school to the city,  a walk several kilometers through the city to the next bus stop (remember this one, it is crucial to the next part of my rant), another bus to a town in between the city and our house, a short walk from one end of that town to the other and another bus stop, and the final bus that drops him off about a mile from our house.

Anyway, the event was over at 4:30 in the afternoon, and while still light out, by the time he would have got off the bus to walk through Murder Town it would be dark (it gets dark here between 5 and 5:30 every single freaking day of the year).  Here is the kicker, not one, NOT ONE, of these parents that are here to help the less fortunate, NOT ONE, of these parents who are supposed to be looking out for those in need, NOT ONE!!!!! offered him a ride.

I am not saying they should have driven him home because we live super far away from them, but they couldn't drop him off at his bus stop, his second bus stop, so he didn't have to walk and risk the chance of being mugged, assaulted, or worse yet killed?

Ten minutes, ten lousy minutes is all it would have taken someone, anyone to do the right thing.  Ten stupid effing (effing because I don't want to say fucking so as to keep this blog "clean") minutes.

I can't even begin to count the number of times I have given kids, and adults for that matter, a ride even farther just so they would not have to walk, let alone to keep them from harm, and these stupid jackasses who claim to be here to serve others could not even bother themselves to give this child a ride to his bus. They could not spare ten minutes.

Because they were able to save those ten minutes, I spent many more driving around looking for my son to make sure he was fine, not to mention the hour or so wondering what went wrong.  Thank God they saved themselves those ten minutes.

To those time greedy, pompous, self-serving pieces of excrement, I say, "Go [commit an act of coitus] with yourselves!" and to all of you I ask this question:

Does it ever appear that the entire world is stupid, except for you?

Please share.

Culture Shock

I am an American born and raised.  In fact, I am American in every way.  I look American, I talk American, I AM American!  I say that with unabashed pride.

While I love my homeland, I no longer live there.  I am an expatriate.  I have not fled, been kicked out, or feel as if I have been marginalized by the increasingly socialistic oligarchical government so I live in a foreign land sitting in the local coffee shop agreeing with the locals that the empirical United States is doomed to fail.  You see, Sommer and I made the decision to leave the comfortable confines of our native land to work for a non-profit organization (not organisation like the Brits would have you believe) in the emerging world.

We have studied their language, we have learned their customs, even adopted their eating habits, but still have yet to truly grasp the humor (again, not humour).  They say that humor is the last thing to come while living in a foreign culture, and our experience testifies to the truth of that statement.  However, it is not a failure on our part due to being raised insulated and isolated from the rest of the world while living in the United States.  It is a universal truth, humor is that last thing to come.

We came here after the global, "That's what she said" phenomenon hit.  While these jokes just seem natural to me, probably because of my uppity highbrow tendencies, the natives seem to have a tremendous amount of trouble with applying the "That is what she has said" appropriately.  They tend to apply them to any number of mundane statements such as:

Person 1: Could you get me some milk?

Person 2: That is what she has said.

Countless times, we (meaning the Americans) have tried to explain the context and execution of these jokes to no avail.  While it may never translate well to our friends and neighbors (not neighbours) here, I leave you all with a montage of extremely witty "That's what she said" jokes as told by the best group of thespians to ever have hit the television (not telly), the cast of the AMERICAN version of The Office (maybe not the first, but definitely the best)).

ps.  I have no issue with the British being that we won the war and all.

My Boss is a Douche!

I know, I know, everyone thinks their boss is a douche (see Dane Cook video below), but you have no idea.

First off, for the purpose of character development, let me spend a moment talking about my boss Elijah.

Elijah fancies himself a hippie dropout. I can't tell you how many times I have heard of his long haired pot smoking days travelling, in a van, throughout the vast expanse of the midwest with all of his long haired pot smoking hippie friends. I have heard of his run ins with the man, the local sheriff, his creativity stifling teachers, basically everyone from his small farming town. He even has a picture of Che on his wall. Che the hero of the modern antiestablishment folk and apparently mid 60's hippie.

That does not appear to be all that douchy, right?

What if I told you that there is really only one story? What if the implication was that Elijah spent years of his life wandering about, without purpose, seeking truth and fighting society, but in fact it was one road trip? What if all those time being hounded by "the man" could all be wrapped up in one single event where the local cop found Elijah out too late and took him home? What if those drug filled youthful years spent trying to avoid conformity was actually one hit off a joint with a friend?

If Elijah made a history out of a few isolated events would you think he was douchy?

Well...

Now, I think I need to tell you that Elijah, like myself, is a follower of Christ. It was Christ that pulled him out of his drug crazed youth (see above) and gave him the opportunity to live a full and complete life. However, he also tells tales of how those years of being a hippie has transformed him into a radical cutting edge Christian whose ideas are shaping a future generation by guiding them to the very limits of Christianity. He likes to talk about how HE is helping young Christians to achieve their full potential by pushing the envelope, but what is he doing that is sooo influential?

Elijah has the cutting edge idea that the bible, not some book written by some pastor, will help bring about a revolution. Life altering, huh? He is at the forefront of using common language to reach the people. Language common to the 80's. To be honest, that is all I can think of. He talks of being cutting edge, but I really see no difference between him and any other mid 60's Christian.

This is my favorite. It is often common for followers of Christ to encourage one another. We talk about some of the struggles we are having so that we can help each other. It is something the author of the Book of James in the bible talks about, that we should share our problems with others so we can help each other. I have shared with him many times of my struggles to be a good father, a good husband, a good follower of Christ. I have shared how sometimes I just feel tired, like I am going through the motions of this life. Here is what he has shared with me, several times:

"My biggest struggle is working too hard, studying the bible too much, and praying too hard."

For real, your biggest struggle is being too good of a follower of Christ. You have NO issues, NO shortcomings, NO problems. Please!

DOUCHE!

So, that is Elijah. I think you may understand who he is. You may even know an Elijah. A self promoting delusional pious pompous jackass, but why am I saying this?

Well, the other day I get a call from Elijah. It was Friday in fact.

Now I need to say this:

Fridays where I work are dead. Nobody shows up on Fridays EXCEPT me. I show up because I can get a bunch of work done without being messed with. Anyway, he calls me on Friday because he is at work because we have been recruiting someone to join our team, and since the new prospect was there on Friday everyone had to come in to work. I mean it, no lie. Everyone showed up because an outsider was there.

DOUCHY!

Anyway, I can usually deal with him, but I have moments where I cannot contain myself and I want to just kill him. So here is the call.

Douche: Hey where are you?

Me: I had to stay home for a little bit so Sommer could get something taken care of.

Douche: Do you know this that and the other thing happened?

Me: Yes. I am working on it.

Douche: Did you know that someone else did something when you were gone on vacation that I should have taken care of, but I saved it for you?

[It was garbage, someone left garbage in an office]

Me: No, I wasn't here. I was on vacation.

Douche: Do you know what happened to cause this horrible thing to happen?

Me: No, but weren't you doing something in that office?

[I love it when people blame others for their own failures]

Douche: Um, lets not point fingers lets just try and come up with a solution to prevent this from happening in the future. Also this other thing happened.

Me: Um....OK. Do you want me to take care of it?

Douche: No, I will. Just thought you should know.

Me: Ok.

Douche: Ok, see you later.

[click]

Wouldn't life be so much easier if we didn't spend all of our time trying to blame others, get others to do OUR work, just being douchy?

Although my boss is a douche, at least he is not a bad boss. Check out some of these stories.

http://badbossblog.blogspot.com/

The Kidnapping of Acer

So, I have these two friends. Truth is I have more, but not many. These two friends, whom we will call Tower and Monroe, are also friends, in fact these two are best friends and have been so for quite a long time.

Just to tie up any loose ends now rather than answer questions later, no those are not their real names. I am using those names for two reasons. One, because they are my friends and I can call them what I want. Two, because the names remind me of them for a variety of reasons.

Anyway, these two friends are having a problem that goes back a few months. The story goes a little like this.....

There once was a computer named Acer. Acer was a great computer that lived in a happy home owned by the Prince. Acer was never lonely because there was always someone to play games, study for school, or even send an email or two on him.

One day Acer was hanging out with Monroe, the cousin of the owner of the Prince, and a few others. They were hanging out checking out things on facebook when all of a sudden Acer became very tired and went to sleep.

When Acer awoke he found himself with Nikola. Nikola was a good man but he couldn't take care of Acer like the Prince, but he was good. Nikola soon found out that Acer was sick and needed some medicine so he sought out the Prince.

When Nikola arrived at the Prince's house, the Prince was enraged. He accused Nikola of kidnapping Acer and he immediately called for the constable to take Nikola into custody. While the constable was on his way, Nikola told his story of how someone in the village brought Acer to his house.

After a short time, the constable arrived and the villager was sought. When found, the villager told a startling tale.

The villager told of how Monroe arrived in the village several days before with Acer, who was sleeping, tied to the back of his ass. Monroe scoured the village asking for someone to buy Acer so he could work as a slave. After seeking a buyer for nearly half the day, the villager agreed to buy Acer from Monroe, but when he brought Acer home he immediately found him to be ill. The villager gave Acer to Nikola whom he knew would nurse Acer back to health.

After hearing this incredible tale, the entire village went to the house of Monroe to hear him answer these accusations.

Although it was time for the men to be in the fields reaping the harvest when the arrived, they found Monroe at home. Monroe admitted to being with Acer before he fell asleep, but denied any further contact. While he could not provide an alibi, he blamed the kidnapping on the villager who neither knew the prince, had access to the Prince's home, nor had ever met Acer.

The entire village was turning on Monroe. They said he was one of the few that had the knowledge and means to kidnap Acer, and to make matters worse there were a string of failed, and some less than legal, business left in Monroe's wake.

When all seemed lost for Monroe, a noble elder from the village arrived named Tower. Tower was a wise man, respected and trusted by all. He was not only a good friend of Monroe, but also of all the villagers. Tower spoke of the many years he had known Monroe, how Monroe had never taken advantage of their friendship nor had Tower even seen him even steal a candy from the local village market.

After several hours of continued questioning, it was decided to leave the matter at rest. While it seemed likely that Monroe had been involved in this heinous crime, it was impossible to ascertain the truth, and in order to keep the innocent from being punished they returned Acer to his home, and never again spoke of the matter.

However, a rift had been born between the house of the Prince and the house of Monroe that may never be closed.

Soon after, Tower found himself in possession of a small bag of gold with no where to place it where it would be protected. He spoke to Monroe who just so happened to have a strong box in his house. Monroe said he would care for the Gold for Tower until he needed to make a purchase.

After several days passed, Tower and Monroe were walking in the market, and Monroe happened to have the bag that contained Tower's gold on his belt. Tower walked by the tannery and saw a beautiful leather satchel that he wanted to buy and asked Monroe for the bag. Monroe reluctantly handed Tower the bag that was full of stones to give the appearance that it was full.

Monroe acted surprised and said that his mother must have used the gold to buy a pig for the family. Monroe said the pig was necessary to keep the family through the winter his mother must have removed the gold from the strong box because the house of Monroe had fallen on to tough times.

Monroe promised to repay Tower, but alas, once more a relationship had been destroyed.

The End

Tower is a really good guy, a tad naive, but a super guy. I guess you might say that I am his mentor. We talked about the stolen computer when it happened and he told me that Monroe could never do anything like that and that because Tower was a follower of Christ he needed to forgive and forget. I told him to be careful, but...he got burned.

I think most Christians glom on to the idea of turning the other cheek. I think they truly believe that in order to follow Christ we need to let people walk all over them.

That is, after all, was grace and forgiveness are, right?

The turn the other cheek doctrine is spoken of in both the books of Matthew and Luke in the bible with little differences between the two. Jesus is speaking on how we should confront the evil among us. He tells us to give willingly to those who are stealing from us and turn the other cheek when struck. He even begins this passage telling us to love our enemies.

If we follow this passage without looking into it a little deeper I think we get the wrong idea. First off, nowhere in the passage is there an implication that Jesus is asking us to return to those situations. Nowhere does it say, go back to those who want to do you harm and have them do it again.

The entire passage is Jesus telling us that we need to live differently than those around us. Different as in we are not going to fight tooth and nail for things that just don't matter (ie clothes), as in we are more concerned about relationships than possessions, as in we love ALL those around us even those completely unlovable chaps that want to hurt us.

The world will not change for us, WE are the ones that need to live different.

Furthermore, can we not assume that if we are turning the other cheek to offer it up to our attackers, we need to know where and how we are being attacked. Jesus is not calling us to blindly allow ourselves to be hurt. He is saying that we should confront these situations with full knowledge of the situation.

The writer of Romans kind of touches on this topic as well. He says that it is OUR responsibility to live at peace with EVERYONE. Sometimes, as in the case of being along side someone that wants to hurt us, that peace may only be accomplished by being apart from that person, or in the case of Tower and Monroe, not allowing someone that has problems with financial integrity or even theft be in charge our finances.

I used to be an artist.

More or less, I mean I am talking in my youth, highschool, where everyone is an artist. Where surging hormones coupled with completely childish inflated self-views feed raging fires of passion for poetry, garage bands, and mixed media pieces of "art" that, as soon as one heads off to college, will end up in the bottom of their parents closet and sworn at every time dad needs to find his dress shoes(see www.regretsy.com). Where all your peers will tell you to your face that you have so much talent, way more than everyone out there, but behind your back/on facebook/via texts, they are telling all their "friends" how amateurish your style is and how someone should tell you that you will never make it.

Anyway, I used to be an artist.

Then life interrupted. Shortly after being liberated from the confines of the hick adult factory that was my highschool and entering the hallowed halls of pompous jackassedness that is our fair university system, I found the love of my life. After much planning and preparation, we found ourselves with child. By much I mean none. Pretty much within months of dating we found ourselves free during finals week and a challenge was made about the length of time we could have sex without...well you know.

Immediately faced with instant familyhood, all but the most important things were set aside. School, jobs, and kids became our lives. Art, freedom, creativity fled like cockroaches when one suddenly flips on the lights. Quickly and in all directions left my soul. NO, I am not saying that I hate my circumstances or my family nor am I saying that my life has been wasted, quite the opposite. I love my life, my kids, my spouse (who we will call Sommer for ease of writing), I am just saying that my youthful passions were quenched by said change.

Throughout the years, life has become more and more normal/mundane/boring and I have spent many a night dreaming about what could have been without the energy to make it happen. Maybe it is much less an energy thing and much more a desire thing. Living life is easy, following your passions much less so.

We lived, better yet I lived in a rut for many years, I think I still may be stuck, but about 3 years ago we started working for a non-profit corporation in a foreign country. In order to maintain my anonymity I cannot tell you what type of non-profit nor what country we have found ourselves in. What I can say is true for all non-profits, which is pivotal to the remainder of this story.

The truth is.....

with all focus removed from the bottom line, there are fewer demands placed on the employee, and as a result most people employed by non-profits have an immense amount of free time on their hands. No supervisor is demanding extra time or denying days off in order to complete an order on time. Not to say that we do not work hard, we just have some time to pursue other passions. More time than the average person.

I tell you this for the sole purpose to explain what has been happening in my life. When we met, Sommer was not involved in or pursuing anything even resembling the arts. Sommer was a leather clad, combat boot wearing rebel. Now, confronted with this new found free time, Sommer has taken up the practice of an art form, the very art form that I fancied myself adept, and while Sommer is encouraging me to once again take up my brush/instrument/pen, I, oddly enough, have one of those jobs in the non-profit arena that actually requires an inordinate amount of time. With the full knowledge that this is purely an excuse, I continue complaining that I am too tired to pursue what was once my very being.

When Sommer began creating I was happy, happy up until the point that this new passion of Sommer's began to impact my life. There began to be less time for me and more time for art and I was upset. I have since tried to change my attitude to fan the flames growing in Sommer's life even though they have long since been extinguished in my own.

Now for the big but...

but today Sommer received some correspondence from an actual well-respected pro in the art form saying that Sommer's work is some of the best in the world. This is someone that could potentially make or break a career and I found myself pissed. Pissed that it was not me. Pissed that I have thrown that entire part of my life in the trash. Pissed that I won't just pull the trigger and start once more. So pissed in fact, that when Sommer let me know, I immediately stopped listening and continued working in an effort to not take in the information. Much like that chubby little kid on the playground who does not like the rules, I took my ball and went home.

I used to think that I viewed the desires of others as more important, but that is proving to be a farse. Sometimes, when I am just looking at myself, or the moment I find myself in, I forget that I intentionally put my passions aside for my family, and the only thing that really pisses me off is that I am too much of a lazy ass pussy to start again.

What if I have to give up watching my beloved television?

What if I have to use some of the money I would us to buy myself a skinny vanilla latte to pursue this?

What if nobody likes what I do?

The truth is that I am a follower of Christ. I don't want to call myself a Christian because of what it means. Christian literally means little Christ, a smaller version of Christ, but I live a life that at times looks nothing like the life of Christ. I am a selfish, self-serving, egotistical, whining little punk. Everything he is not.

Can you imagine Christ on the cross screaming and yelling at everyone? Pouting because there was someone out there with money that he did not have, someone that was going to live in a phat house with a bunch of servants, someone that was going to go home that night and have dinner with their family, but he could not do any of these things because he KNEW he would be dead.

The truth is I want to be stoked, but I just can't do it . I have been so focused on the sacrifices I have made for our family that I feel like I deserve the credit/accolades/fame. I forgot why I made and continue to make those sacrifices. I do so with the sole intent hat Sommer and the kids can pursue their passions. I want the best for them, not for myself.

I am sick of pouting, and I am so proud of Sommer.

I am so sorry that I could even be pissed and embarrassed that it is now out in the open.

The Experiment

I have been shaped by those around me.

Immediately after birth I began learning who "I" was. I was a child/sibling/living being here to eat sleep and poop. Life was simple. My only goal was to become a perfected facsimile of my parents. The culmination of their collective experiences. All the "good" and none of the "bad."

How wonderful were those first five years!

Then came academia. My first five years all for naught. For the next 18 years I would learn who "I" really was. I was a perfect version of my parents who were far from perfection. I learned just how little they knew. They were intellectually lacking, morally flawed, far inferior to any of the highly educated teachers/masters/doctors being paid to create the "me" I should be for their obvious ability to function well in society.

To confuse all this education I was receiving by these highly respectable adults, I was surrounded by other wee-people like myself learning the same things.

I am not sure if it was arrogance on our part, or just the false education we had received from our parents, but we began to shape ourselves. We formed groups based on likes/dislikes and began conforming to the norms of these groups. Dressing, talking, acting like the other members and, on occasion, changing everything about us, who "we" were, about me, who "I" was, to be a part of a new group.

Then came the spouse and I met the new "me", the kids and a new "me", the church and an all new "me." To top that off, sprinkled throughout this lifetime of learning about "me" I had employers trying to make "me" into the "me" they wanted or needed.

For all this I have truly learned who "I" am. I am a changer/conformer/liar. I change the "me" I am based on those around.

I am what those around me need, but who am I really?

Thus, I have arrived here. In an effort to find the me within the me I have started this blog/diary/experiment to find myself. I am not writing this for anyone, in fact no one knows I have even started this. This is solely an outlet, a place to comment and analyze the events in my life. I am looking for my voice.

I have removed all names, all titles, anything that may point to my identity in an effort to avoid the me that is formed by my context.

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