You can read without pain...

This is just a message to all one or two of you that take the time to read this mess that I've changed the background style to a more reader-friendly coloring and style. It's vaguely Victorian in style, as well, which makes me happy and makes anyone who had trouble with the white text on black background happy as well. I'm all about making people happy. This message doesn't take the place of a full post, either. It's just a Public Service Announcement. We now return you to your irregularly scheduled program.

Educational Erosion

It has been quite some time since I sat in a classroom, soaking in knowledge and expanding my horizons. It has been quite some time since I have been challenged to learn, to understand something new and interesting. Or at least somewhat different. I feel as though my mind ceased growing once I received my degree. Since that point, it almost feels as though the edge that I had honed in my mind has been dulling by degrees. Year after year, I feel as though I lose a bit more of the edge I fought so hard to create through years of study. Not that I was a pillar of intelligence, but I felt capable of absorbing new information, synthesizing it, and intelligently conversing about the subject with more than just a "Huh" or "Well isn't that interesting".

These days, I struggle to find the edge I once had. Occasionally, when a subject is hit upon in conversation that I know about, I feel the gleam of the edge under the tarnish of time. For a brief, shining moment I feel the joy that comes from using that part of my mind. I feel a hunger, a yearning for more knowledge, more academic contact to fill that urge. When a subject shows up on tv or the internet that sparks that interest, I yearn to keep the spark alive, to learn. More often, though, are the times where people talk about subjects and I feel dull and knowledgeable about the subject. I struggle to find purchase and contribute, to learn as I go. Instead, I find myself nodding in mock comprehension and trying to be unobtrusive as people expound on subject.

What happened to the edge that would have allowed me to absorb the conversation's topic and at least offer an intelligent opinion or educated guess? Have the intervening years between college and now worn down the academic edge that I spent years honing? I have not pursued academic learning since that time, so perhaps if left unused, the edge fades. Instead of learning, I play games and listlessly surf the internet. Like the rest of the body, without a proper diet and exercise the mind seems to go to seed and lose definition in the figurative sense. My mind feels fat with useless knowledge and lazy, too lazy to gear itself up to do anything more than play a game or watch a movie.

I realize, of course, that I am learning new things everyday. From other people, from my job, from the books I read, from news sources and magazines, I continue to learn. My mind has not been idle all these years. I know more now in many different areas than I did in college. Life has a way of making every day a classroom. But I miss having that academic edge. Much of what I've learned since college has been passive, not active and deliberate. I love learning and the process of finding things out. There's a simple joy at learning something new and applying it, either through conversation or through writing. Making the mind puzzle out new information and learning how it applies is a rush all it's own. That natural high that joggers feel when running? I get that when I learn. Weird, huh? Even now, just thinking about it, I feel the gleam of the edge peeking out, hopeful that now is the time that I'll take my mind out of mothballs and fire it up. Sorry to disappoint you once again, mind.

So what, then, should I do? I work on a college campus, so the drive to learn is even worse now than ever. Working with students and professors and hearing all of the subjects being taught and learned makes me yearn for learning. But money is an issue. Right now, we don't have the funds for me to return to school to get my masters. Maybe soon, but not now. My job is giving me an opportunity to learn, which is great, but it isn't filling that need for some reason. It helps, but I crave more. I try to get myself to write, thinking that it would at least occupy my mind, but it's such a lazy thing that I can barely get into the mode to write an email, let alone a story. Though for some reason story ideas are constantly coming to me. I'll keep trying, though.

Acknowledgment of the issue is also a big step, so now I know what is bothering me. Now I can work on sharpening that edge. The ultimate goal will be to go back to school. For now, though, I will have to make do with smaller goals and work my way up, slowly but surely honing my mind, getting it back into shape. It will take a bit of work and time, but it will be worth it. It's time to fight erosion of the mind. Right after this game...

Changes

The wheel spins. Life changes. A couple of months ago, I was a depressed city dweller, feeling my life sift away as I stared at the sea of bumpers to and from work. I labored in a hundred year old cellar, moving and sorting massive skids of textbooks for a school that appreciated the roaches more than the workers. I was angry, frustrated, depressed and wondering where life was leading me. My bright spot, my haven, was my wife, who was going through similar feelings and thoughts. We weren't in a bad place. We just weren't in a place for us. The city was nice to visit, but horrible to live in.

Then life, as it is wont to do, threw us a series curvballs. My wife was downsized from her lucrative, yet soul-wrenching job. We were in a freefall. We looked at our life and we decided that we needed more change. We found another town, another place that was infused with what we wanted, what worked for us. I quit my job on a random chance of getting a job and fell short, but found a decent foothold in a new university. We jumped the urban ship and moved in with some friends until we could find a place, which we eventually did. My wife is still searching for full time work, but has shifted her perspective and is looking at employment and careers in new ways. She is finding contentment in the smaller aspects of life. As am I, thanks to our new surroundings.

Life has gone through changes, and so have we. We were used to having more financially, but we are happier with less. We took a chance and rolled the dice when we moved, throwing our usual caution to the wind in favor of chasing the dream of happiness and contentment. Could we have made more money in the city? Maybe? We have more options, more possibilities here. We feel more compelled to try them. Life is still changing for us, but that's not a bad thing. When we first moved, it wasn't smoothy and easy, as life had been up to this point. But easy breeds complacency, and we fell into ruts. you don't always see the ruts when you're in them, but if you're jarredout of that complacency, you see the depth of the ruts and how far you've travelled in them. You feel a compulsion to avoid falling into them again.

Is life all peaches and cream now? No. Is our quality of life improved from a few months ago? I truly believe so. Our income is less than it was. We are just now moving from our friends' house into an apartment. We have no insurance, and my wife has yet to find full time employment. But we are happy. The area feels like home. We feel happy, content. For the first time, we feel like we could settle down and not look to the future and a new location. I see a future where I work, a future where I can grow and learn, not just stagnate with no chance of movement. Sure, I may not stay in the same area I am now, but I feel like I am encouraged to learn, to better myself and look to my future with the University. We have great friends here, which has been a great help to us as our life moves in new directions. We feel less stressful, happier, and content. But we are also spurred by our surroundings to engage in life again, rather than droning from work to home and back again every day. Life is evolving for us. Life is good.

Do Good Guys Finish Last?

This afternoon a coworker revealed to me the Primary Truth About Life - good people always finish last. Always. According to this bastion of pessimism and cynicism, Anyone who tries to be a good person in this world is dealing themselves a losing hand. The world, he says, is designed to reward the selfish and the greedy, or as he so eloquently labels them, "assholes". These assholes (henceforth dubbed "a-holes" because I am lazy and eliminating two letters from a world seems the height of genius to me at the moment) can act however they want, take whatever they want, and end up paying no consequences for their deeds. Meanwhile those that are trying to "do the right thing" will invariably pay, however indirectly, for the a-holes' actions.

Let's take, for example, his stance on police. According to my coworker, the police are all in it for kicks and not for any good reasons. They harass people for petty misdemeanors and minor traffic violations and parking transgressions, while real criminals murder, steal, and maim the public at their leisure. The police set up seat belt initiatives and speed traps to line their coffers and amuse themselves at the expense of, for the most part, good people. Meanwhile, people are regularly being shot and robbed in the same small areas of the city, they themselves regularly break the same laws they harass others for, and nothing is done to persecute the real problem makers (please remember that I am summarizing my coworker and am not writing my own opinion here). In this example, the police are punishing the good people and letting the a-holes run free.

He goes on to cite various a-holes that have prospered while countless good folks get trampled. "Rich corporate pigs", meaning the heads of major companies are a favorite target, as they trampled and used countless people to get where they are. According to my coworker, good, honest people can't survive in the high level corporate climate. That goes for the government, too, according to him. Good people are overtaxed, overworked, and extremely underpaid so that corporate and government a-holes can live in their mansions and roll in their money like Scrooge McDuck.

I could give you more examples from my coworker. Many more. Unfortunately, I can't successfully reproduce his rant style and quality, so I'll just say that the essence of almost everything he rails about boils down to being a good guy gets you squat in this world. Only by being an a-hole will you see any significant gains. As he sees it, you're either the a-hole or the sucker. There is no in-between.

So, is this true? Do you believe that being a good person just makes you a target for a-holes and their fallout. By being good, do we not get rewarded as was promised when we were children? Is the state of the world so bleak that being good is a liability? I really hope not.

I'll be the first to admit that I have been roughed up by Life a bit by trying to do the right thing. There have been times when I do something I think is good and it's either taken as a given, nothing needing praise or reward, or is ignored in the face of some more monumental achievement. And let me tell you, nothing does less to attract the ladies than being the "good guy". It seems like a-holes have an allure, the "bad boy" image that good guys can't hope to match. Luckily, the a-holes often lose their charms after a bit and the good guys true attraction is revealed. But once again, being an a-hole, at least initially, seems to net rewards while being the good guy gets you nothing.

I choose to believe that being good is not as bad as my coworker would have me believe. I think that good is rewarded more steadily, more subtly than being an a-hole. I may not have lots of money or power over people, but I have a great life and a wife that I love. I am happy, and I got here by being the "good guy". Sure, it's gotten me into trouble, or maybe prevented me from getting ahead at times, but the long term benefits have far outweighed the negatives. And by being good, I think you touch other people in a more positive light, showing them the power of the "good guy" and maybe making the world a little better. It's not an easy road, but I think it's a more satisfying road. So I'll keep on truckin' down the good guy road. If I finish last, oh well. I believe I'll finish happiest.

The Danger of Choice

This is a public service announcement. There is a danger lurking all about us. It follows us wherever we go and infects our daily lives. Even now, as you read this, you are being infected by it. This danger to our daily lives has a name. That name is choice. That's right, you are in danger from choices. More specifically, too many choices. Be aware and be safe. End of public service announcement...

So, as I sit here, typing away on a grim-encrusted keyboard in a dank, dreary dungeon, away from the warming rays of the sun, I am struck by how much the excess of choices in life can have an almost debilitating effect on a person. Before I go on, don't think for a minute that I abhor choice in any form. Far from it. I think it is a testament to how far society has come that we are afforded the luxury of so many choices. No, my musing is concerned with the sheer volume of choices available today, and how that can negatively influence us.

Let me illustrate my muse with an example from my own life. I am currently attempting to pan my somewhat shaky writing chops into something more productive. The way my mind races, I have innumerable ideas for stories and I feel like it's time to do more than write down idea fragments onto any handy scrap of paper. I have ideas that fill countless napkins, torn sheets of paper, old notebooks, and basically anything else I can write on. Ideas are the easy part. Now comes the decision, the crux of my musing for today. I have to make a choice as to what idea to us and what exactly to write with that idea.

How do I decide? There are good and bad ideas, but all are valid possibilities. If I choose idea A, then what should I write? It would work well as a short story, but a little more work to turn it into something longer. But maybe writing something longer would be a bad thing for idea A. What about a comic? It could work as a comic. I know some extremely talented artists that I could ask to help with art. But how do I go about writing a comic? And what about idea B? That one might be a much better comic. Maybe I should explore that idea.

As I sit at the desk, my scraps and papers surrounding me. I begin to feel defeat creeping up my spine. Merely choosing has become a chore unto itself. So many ideas, so many paths to take the idea...My brain balks at the complications. Instead of sitting down, choosing an idea, and running with it, I freeze up at the sheer number of possible options. Rather than being productive, I end up spending a rather absurd amount of time staring at ideas and getting mired in possibilities. Choice, in this case, became a problem. I know this situation is compounded by my personality type. I realize that there are folks in the world that would just grab an idea and run with it, to see where it takes them. Those who are able to just decide and do may not see all of this as an issue. But of all the people I know, there aren't too many folks able to decide at the drop of the hat. The rest of us are left in a quagmire of choice.

My example of my writing process is a microcosm of what I see and experience in the world today. Choosing a restaurant to eat at is as long and difficult a process as brain surgery it seems. Ask a group where they want to go. The chorus of "I don't know", "Wherever is fine with me", and "You pick. I don't care" will give testimony to the difficulties of choice. Wracked by indecision based on the number of choices and the unwillingness to chooses something another may not like leads to long, drawn out decision -making processes that are as exhausting and intense as many jobs.

To me, it seems as though the frequency of options when choosing leads to indecision and frustration, rather than joy at the simple idea that we are able to have so many choices. One would think that an abundance of choices would bring happiness, but I have to say, often times it brings stress and frustration, especially when dealing with group decisions. The number of choices are then compounded by the number of opinions in a group, creating an even greater number of possibilities based on preferences. Yikes, that sounds too much like math...but you get my point. Does it have to do more with tendencies of procrastination? An unwillingness to potentially disappoint someone by making a decision? Or is the sheer volume of choices that we have to make in life actually hurting more than helping?

I don't have any answers here. This was more a musing on the difficulty of choice that I see both in myself and with those around me. To me, at least part of the cause is the sheer number of choices we face. I'm sure there are many factors depending on the person or group, but in the end, choice for me often time is more stressful and difficult than a final in college. Maybe it's time I act more like those go-getters that can just take charge and forge ahead confidently in life. You know, just look at the choices, make a decision and run with it. Life's too short to waste time worrying, right? But what if I end up making a wrong decision? Could I have made an other choice that would have left me better off? Maybe I should go back and look at all the possible options, you know, just to make sure...sigh...so much for that...

Inspirations Vol. I

"Conan, what is good in life?"
"To crush your enemies, to see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of their women!"

How's that for an opener, eh? So I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that this little rabbit is off his gourd. What does Conan the Barbarian have to do with anything? Well, not much really. I love that quote, though. But it does get me thinking about what I think is good in life. This being Monday, the start of the Dreaded Work Week, I think it's appropriate to start a list of what is good in life, what inspires me. Rather than dwelling on the negative, what is positive? Gag if you will, but I challenge you to do the same in your own life. What makes you happy, inspires you, or just makes you smile? It's a good exercise, especially when you need a pick-me-up after a long, hard day. So here's my list. It's by no means a complete list. Who knows, maybe I'll make this a regular post when I need some positivity. And if you refuse to read something positive and happy, be sure to check back. I'm sure I'll be writing on the other end of the spectrum soon.

THE LIST OF THINGS THAT INSPIRE ME:

1. My Wife: Ok, ok. I can hear you now, "Oh, he's just brown-nosing for points", And though it's true that I'll gladly take points, it's not the sole reason for this being a major inspiration. No other person has ever done or continues to do so much to inspire me. She is my greatest friend and my closest confidante. She encourages me to reach for the heights and supports me when I fall. She helps in any way she can, and I can always count on her to be there for me. She is wonderful incarnate, and to me there is no greater inspiration than the mere thought that she is in my life. I'm sorry if this sounds super-sappy, but I can't even begin to describe how magical she is to me. When nothing else in this world can inspire me, she can, with just the flash of a smile. Thanks, Sweetheart. Without her, life is a dull film reel that is as exciting as the safety films in school. The ones that aren't funny to make fun of.

2. The Ocean: I'm not sure where this one came from. After all, where I grew up, the largest body of water was the local "Lake". More like the local pond. I think it has to do with being a kid and every summer meant a trip to the beach. Those were some of the best times and are still clearly etched into my brain. The sound of the surf, the sand in my toes, the sun on my face, it was a recipe for magic in my mind. Tied to this is the music of the 80's. Every shop on the boardwalk was playing the new music and every radio station at the beach played the hits, so like Pavlov's dogs, my mind automatically thinks "beach" and I get the warm, happy feeling of my childhood.

As for the ocean itself, it has a power all its own on me. There is a mystery and tranquility there that soothes me when I think about it. I feel drawn to anything relating to the ocean. Aquariums, nature shows, books, anything that will give me a taste of the mysteries of the ocean. Though the night sky holds a similar sway over me, space itself is not as awe inspiring as the ocean. Perhaps it's something primordial in my brain that gives me this interest in the ocean. Maybe I just like the color blue. I'm not sure. But the Ocean is a definite source of inspiration and tranquility to me, so it is definitely on the list. Someday I hope to live near enough to the ocean that I can indulge my yearning any time I wish. Being a a landlocked lover of the sea is a difficult thing, let me tell you. To me, ocean is the stuff of dreams and contact with it is like touching the inner part of myself. Plus, riding waves is crazy fun!

Well, I think I'll leave off at two for now. Believe me, the list is long, dark and deep, but I have miles to go before I sleep. And I'm sure you do as well. So instead of assaulting your eyes with a novel-length post, I'll spoon it up in more digestible parts whenever the day is rough and I can use some lift. Hopefully it gets you thinking about your own list of inspirations. They don't have to be lofty or monumental, just those things that make you happy. When the day starts beating you down, whip out your list, think about something inspiring you, and you'll be amazed what happens. Like in Peter Pan, you may just learn to fly. Or at the very least, maybe you'll smile when life is trying to drag you down. And that's something every bit as amazing as flying.

Work is like that movie "Hostel"...

So I'm at work, right? And I'm sitting there, minding my own business, when BLAM, I'm hit with a string of projects so bizarre and laborious that I shudder to even relate to you, fair reader. It's not as though I was sitting there, scratching my behind and staring at the paint peeling off of the dull, brown walls of this place. Believe me, to contemplate the construction of this place is to walk the road to madness. Who knows what archaic diseases and outlawed materials this place is built upon? It boggles the mind...But I digress.

Back to the point at hand. So, basically this place, I have come to believe, is like the movie "Hostel". You know the one, right? The horror movie set in a European travel hostel, or cheap place to lay your head, where people with money can come, have a traveller abducted and torture them at their whim with crazy tools in a dank, dark, and horrible room. Pain is the name of this sadistic game, pain for other people's pleasure. It's frightening and horrible. That, my friend, is my job.

Sadly, comparisons are not hard to come by. Let's start with the setting. I do not work in a European hostel, but I DO work in the basement of an incredibly old building, so old that there are doors down here to which no one has keys, nor does anyone know what is behind them. Frankly, if my imagination is anywhere close to truth, I'd rather not know. Seriously. It's creepy. There is supposedly even a sub-basement below this one housing things that even the oldest worker here cannot recall. The lighting is horrible, at best, with broken and irregular track lighting being the norm. The ducts and pipework leak at varying intervals, mixing with the cool cave chillness to create a dark, dank area that comes to resemble the torture rooms of the movie. One look at this place and it's not hard to imagine people getting there teeth ripped out with rusty pliers. I know. Bad stuff.

Beyond the creepy-as-spit setting, the way this place is run is reminiscent of the film. Why? Well, this place is either run by crazed monkeys bent on world domination and failing miserably, or else it's actually an elaborate torture parlor, where sadists are paid to act as "managers" and "directors" to their delight and wreak unimaginable pain and anguish upon those poor souls fooled enough to believe this is an actual job. I mean, no one would make the decisions that are made here on a regular basis unless they derive some sick pleasure from seeing the mental scarring they are causing etched on the pinched, drained faces of the workers here. Many have worked here for so long, the life has been drained from them, one mental tooth pull at a time. So, instead of rich sadists, we have PAID sadists. Close enough, in my book.

Maybe I'm just having a bad day. Every time I step foot in this place. But it really does tell me something that I can successfully compare where I work to a sadistic torture fest of a movie. Time to move on, I guess. After all, the paycheck itself is enough to cause damage when you think about it. True story.

Greetings from Planet Me...

Howdy,

If you're reading this, then you must have gotten lost. No? Are you sure? Well, if you're gonna stay, then I guess I had better warn you about what you may encounter while visiting. You know, for liability purposes. I don't need any lawsuits just because something bit you and I didn't warn you ahead of time. Pull up that stool over there. No, not the one missing a leg. That one, the one with the plaid cushion. It's cozy on the hindquarters, don't ya know.

So, anyway, what is this place onto which you have stumbled? Well, it's basically an extension of the cluttered and dusty storage shed that is my mind. See, I have a real problem with ideas. I have 'em. Lots of them. Too many for my poor brain to handle. So I need a place to put some of these ideas, maybe even flesh them out a bit. Like one of those little barn-looking things people put in their backyard to put stuff that won't fit in the house or garage. Like one of those, only a little fancier, so I can show folks around some of the strangeness that's inside my skull. Since I will be showing things off to people, it will also force me to develop these ideas beyond a casual phrase scrawled onto a random scrap of paper from the garbage. Good stuff!

So these ideas, they may take all kinds of forms. They may spill out as stories, rants, poems, or snippets. I may just throw some stuff that comes to mind out there and see where it goes. It may result in gold or a mess. Who knows. I may just toss out a journal-esque entry about something incredible, or incredibly mundane. Whatever shows up at the time of writing will be the soup of the day. I know that some folks like to keep a blog consistent in type and content. They may blog on a theme and have multiple blogs for multiple themes. Well, no me. No sir. I go more for the chasing butterflies approach. Who knows where you'll go or what you'll see, just so long as you're chasing the dream. Or something like that. Basically, expect nothing or anything and you'll do fine. If you the kind that likes it orderly and consistent, well I'm sure you can find that somewhere else.

So, there you have it. Scared? Intrigued? Bored silly? Well, I never promised Shakespeare. But, if I haven't scared you off, then feel free to drop in every now and again and see what I put in the shed. Maybe you'll see something you like. Maybe you won't. But you'll never know unless you look.

See you around, Pard. Watch your step on the way out and remember, if you stop by again, use the stool with the plaid cushion. It's my favorite.