Settling In

A good friend came to my place today to do a very good thing: help me organize the random stuff that doesn’t really have a place, but needs one so that I know where it is when I need it.

Take Christmas decorations as a for instance.  Until today, mine were stored in a large, cardboard box that was quite literally falling apart.  Since I use it twice a year (unpack once, pack once), a box falling apart wasn’t a big deal as it didn’t get much wear and tear.  But the box was larger than needed and did tend to leave behind cardboard particles that could smell odd and were generally unpleasant.

So, a plastic tub was purchased and the contents of the box were moved.  The box is broken down and ready to be turned into something more useful by the recycling wizards from the Ministry of Recycling Useless Stuff Into Neat Things (I hear they are working hard on pogs, but not getting anywhere for the moment).  Now, my deocrations are stored neatly in my various closets along with a small assortment of other plastic tubs and containers for sheet music, candles, high school and grammar school memorabilia, etc.

And I know where it all is for whenever I need it again.  The next move, hopefully a long time from now, will likely contains less “I didn’t know I had one of these” moments.

Bottom line: about $40 for containers and a cheap paper shredder (quite possibly the most therapeutic device ever created).  I may need more, but these are cheap and easy to come by.  Plus, thanks to the paper shredder, I should have more room in the closet once I can combine two filing cabinets of crap into one of useful documents.

Figuring it Out

I don’t get asked very often if everything is OK or if there is something I need to talk about.  I mean the concerned, worried perspective that people sometimes get when they see odd things in their friends or family.  I take it as a good thing that I don’t hear this often.

I heard it twice today from two different people.

I think I’m OK and doing just fine, but make a point of stopping to take stock when something like this happens, just to be sure.  It wouldn’t be the first time I wasn’t doing well on some level without knowing.

I’ve been thinking lately about what brings fulfillment to my life.  I can either claim neutrality or say I’m proud of just about everything I do, but whether I feel fulfilled as a person from it is a different story.  Viewing my activities at church as service has been good, though difficult (who exactly am I serving?  is that who I should be serving?).  But I don’t find fulfillment there.  Music is fun and I love singing in the various groups I’m part of, but I don’t find fulfillment.  I love my job, but don’t find fulfillment in the things I do (though fulfillment at work would be icing on the cake rather than expected).

What am I doing that is fulfilling? Anything? Nothing? Am I doing things that are fulfilling but not receiving it? If I were, would people have asked if I was OK today (the root reason for even thinking about this, after all)?

Things for me to think about.

Become a Millionaire by Acting Like One

I’m big on managing my money without being a slave to it, but this guy takes the cake with a wonderfully well thought-out post that anyone who likes cash should read.

Good tips all around.  I particularly like planning millionaire days to  try out the life style you’d think you’d like to have if you were independently wealthy.  Also, the advice on giving away to get more is well said, though counter-intuitive and difficult to swallow.

Enjoy!

Long Week

It’s been a very long week.  It’s also been a very good week and a strange week.

Long from the standpoint that a lot happened.  It was also my first five-day work week in about a month thanks to extended weekends, holidays, and a funeral.  That was a shock to the system.

But it was a good week.  I got a lot done, did well by a lot of people (I think), made some new friends, exercised a lot, am eating better (yup, I’m eating salad more often and less carbs, but haven’t cut out carbs 100%).

It was also a strange week, at least for this blog.  I’ve had about 60 hits per day on average, according to my stats.  Most of those for older posts regarding two elephants doing as nature intended during a Presidential motorcade in Africa a couple of years back.  The search terms leading to these posts are not fit for public consumption by any stretch, but my knowledge of what some people find “exciting” has definitely expanded.

The question now, though, is if I pull those posts down or not.  I don’t like them being my number one item, at least not for the reason people seem to be clicking here for.  Then again, they are getting “in the door” as it were, so maybe they’ll look around and find something more interesting and, hopefully, healthier.

Any ideas?

More on Shaving

In the neverending quest to get a better shave, Lifehacker has posted three videos about traditional wetshaving.  While I probably technically wetshave myself every other day or so and some earlier tips have helped improve the business of shaving in the Yocum Household of Redlands, it could be better and more comfortable.  If I can get up to shaving once a day without pain, it will be a good day.

Besides, are there any women in the world that aren’t a sucker for their man shaving in the bathroom in a Paul Newman kind of way?  I’m still working on finding a woman that will call me her man, but the shaving bit should bit a hell of a lot easier.

Why I’m Leaving Netflix

I’ve decided to give up Netflix.  Not for any reason they could change.  Rather because of getting some time back in my pocket.

For the record, the service I’ve received from Netflix has been above par.  Aside from the DVD that arrived questionably late (and only when I had received more than ten or so DVDs within a 30 day period), their service has been exemplary.

However, I’ve found that my evening life has become more and more a sedentiary life.  I come home to dinner and whatever DVDs I have.  Choosing not to watch a DVD on a particular night is difficult thanks to feeling like I need to get my money’s worth from the service and so having to watch as much as possible as quickly as possible.  Also, I’ve seen  just about all of the DVDs I’ve wanted to see.

Once I’m done with the next batch of DVDs, I plan to cancel the service and have a few more dollars in my wallet and more time to do enjoyable things.  Reading a book sounds nice.  Taking more walks in the evening air.  Not spending so much time on my couch is probably the best reason I could think of.  It’s a nice couch, but I’ve got other things to do.

Adult Children

During the sermon this morning, our pastor asked what we thought it was like or meant to be a child of God. The congregation wrote down answers and was invited to share if they wanted to.

There were some really good responses. Actually, all of them were good. Being a child of God is like…

…having peace.
…being loved.
…being accepted.
…being forgiven.
…being able to serve.

There were many, many others. But I noted something while I was at lunch with my friends. All of them were very adult answers. That is, they were answers an adult would give. They are answers that speak of a life that has had its share of pain and sorrow as well as joy. They weren’t the innocent answers of a child (how could they be?). The response at lunch was telling. My friends replied that of course they were adult answers, there weren’t any children there.

I didn’t have opportunity to reply as the conversation turned on its merry way to other delightful topics. But I felt sad at that fact. They were right, the congregation was full of adults and a baby or two and at least one child, but I doubt there were two present. The rest of the kids were in their own Sunday morning activities having fun and learning in a different way instead of being in the church service.

Then again, they weren’t right. The room was full of children. The sermon spoke to that. These children had simply forgotten a little bit about being children. As if Peter Pan really did grow up.

Being a child of God is indeed about peace and compassion and joy and forgiveness and love. But a child generally doesn’t think in such clear terms. At least, I didn’t when I was a child. I simply knew I was safe at home or with my parents. I didn’t need to describe it, it just was. I took it for granted, no doubt, but that was part of the indescribable nature of the whole thing.

So I thought about my own answer to what it is like to be a child of God, but in the way an adult who is thinking as a child would answer.

Being a child of God is like…

…running through the sprinklers on a summer day.
…ice cream in a sugar cone melting onto your hand.
…skinning your knees in a baseball game.
…trying to swing all the way around the swing set.
…playing freeze tunnel tag, no tag backs, safe zone at the oak tree for five seconds.
…a rainstorm while the sun is still shining on the horizon.
…staying up past your bed time for a fireworks show.
…running, for no reason, in any direction.
…water balloon fights.
…making a sand castle and wondering where the tide takes it.
…being friends with everyone else around your age because that’s just how the world works, isn’t it?

At least, that’s what I think. How about you?

The Work Boundary

I’ve long felt that I have friends at work and friends outside of work.  The line between the two rarely, if ever, blurred or ceased altogether.  When I was at work, I could speak with my work friends.  If I saw them while I was with my outside-of-work friends, though, there would be an uncomfortable feeling for me.

Reason being that these work friends represented work to me.  Not in the fact that it took more work than usual to sustain a friendship, but because I worked with them.  My first thoughts around them were about work related issues, not the stuff of friends.  I have my friends outside of work for that.

Something has changed, though.  When I got home yesterday and thought of the stories I was to tell friends of my weekend, the boundary between my friends at work and my friends outside of work wasn’t there.  They were all simply my friends, to one natural extent or another.  What’s more is that I don’t think of work when I think of my friends that I work with.

Seems like a good thing.

Worry vs Working

I’ve noticed a bit of a trend lately in the world around me. Often it is the case where people who are thought to be hard workers also worry more about the tasks before them. They may be productive in this fashion, but a great deal of energy goes into simply being concerned about everything on their plate. The trend is that folks like this tend to be well-regarded as people with a work ethic to strive for.

This confuses me. I know plenty of people who worry less, if at all, and work just as hard or harder. These folks are generally less stressed out and seem to be regarded as folks who get things done. This isn’t to say that the worriers don’t get things done, but the world’s perception of them is more that they work hard. When I think of this type of person, I think of the old man doing a simple job slowly. When others ask him to speed up, he turns and says, “I could do it faster or I can do it right.” and continues on. The concept of moving quickly and being right isn’t quite there. Being right is all there is to it.
I think I travel easily between these two types of people. I’m sure there are many more as well. But I find it occasionally frustrating that the people who don’t worry and are known to get things done don’t seem to be in the first draft when people are looking for help. We want the people who do important things for us to not just work hard, but look like they are working hard. The worriers excel at not just working hard, but appearing to work hard as well.

The folks who get it done don’t think about the spotlight or who is watching. The important thing is not who sees the task get done and what they think but that the task is simply done. There tends to be less stress involved, but also less adventure or excitement.

Which do you think is better?

The Chinks of our Weakness

Something a friend mentioned this last weekend sparked an idea in my head. The remark was about temptation. The idea was slightly more complex.

My immediate thought afterwards was a kind of, “What else is new?” reaction. Temptation isn’t new by any stretch and we all deal with it in one form or another. Depending on the situation, it can be of great concern, though. Then I thought about my own dance with temptation and remembered that sometimes living the life you want to live is much harder than other times.

I remember a passage from The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. One of the ghosts in the story has a small dragon or lizard on his shoulder (I’d check exactly, but I’ve lent the book out to a friend). This creature represents the ghosts addictions while alive on earth and it is clear that the creature does not hold the best interests of its host at heart. Over the course of this ghost’s story, the offer to kill the creature comes to play. The pain and fear of resulting death impede the creature’s destruction at the hands of a being of light until a simple realization happens. Even death would be better than life with the creature. The being of light gives assurances that the ghost will not die (what a twist, a ghost afraid of death!) and the ghost agrees to be rid of the creature.

At this point, something marvelous happens. The creature, instead of dying, transforms into a bright horse that the ghost, now fully formed also as a being of light, rides in the glorious mountains of heaven.

It’s much more beautiful in the book than I write here. But it tells a simple lesson. Many of us live life thinking that our strengths and talents are that which give glory to God, whoever we claim faith in, or the universe at large. There’s no arguing that the beauty and goodness we are capable of certainly do give the Creator a good deal of credit.

The real deal, the brightest light in creation, comes from our weaknesses. On the one hand, they simply aren’t truly weaknesses. They are our shortcomings, but that matters little to to any higher power. Our weaknesses are just as much a means for the creation of something beautiful as our strengths. Our strength is the armor we put on each day. But in so putting on this armor, we also block the light that shines out from within. Our weaknesses are the chinks in the armor where things don’t quite fit together and the light within streams out in sharp beams.

Temptation is a hard thing. But it is a good thing. Temptations expose our weaknesses to us and show us the areas of our life where those chinks are waiting to be discovered. Temptations force us to confront our weaknesses, lay them bare, and open them to let the light shine all the better.