Twenty-four.

What is this mid-twenties thing all about? Just a couple years after graduation, I thought I'd have some things figured out. But maybe that's the point. We think we should, but when we don't it seems a fair amount of disappointment creeps in. Life isn't what we thought it was twenty-four hours ago. The world is going so fast, and everything in our lives is constantly changing. We have been the victims of a vicious sleight of hand. Except, we are the ones who bought into it. We were sold one thing, and took home something else, knowing the whole time but without the willingness to admit it to ourselves.

That's the part that bothers me about having a vision for something. Whether its the vision of some entrepreneur for a hot new company or an 18 year old's vision for their future. We are sold one thing, only to discover that thing is a little more hypothetical than we expected. The company isn't as great as it could be. College... well, it just wasn't what you thought it would be. That dream job, the burgeoning success that you think you're on the verge of, the house, the wife, the two and a half kids, they're all just

out of reach.

Just like that. Plain, courier font because I don't know how to change it. It didn't turn out how I expected. Which makes sense because this is only 24 no matter how much the ol' bait and switch might suck. Really, it doesn't suck, we just don't understand it. Or, I don't understand it. Maybe this is what its about though. Not understanding. Just living and breathing and trying to figure it out. The struggle and tension constantly shaping us, making us stronger, perhaps even preparing us for something. Maybe I'll look back and everything will make sense. Maybe none of it will. I guess that's why it is important to live the adventure.

.esreveR

Sometimes all I can do is think about moving forward. What's next? Where will I be in 5 years? 10 years? Tomorrow for that matter. Sometimes people ask, if you could take back anything what would it be? Or, they ask about regrets. My barely post-adolescent brain that's still idealistic tells me to live without regret, and usually I can. Don't think about the past, think about the future and the direction you're going. Of course, you should remember where you came from, but you would never go backwards in a progressive, forward thinking kind of world would you? Sometimes you don't realize how important going in reverse can be until the little R on your shifter suddenly means... nothing.

P
E
R
S
P
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C
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is everything.

Its a bit drafty out.

I'm standing in the kitchen making some breakfast at 2:30pm and I realized that so much of my life feels like a rough draft. I'm trying out some ideas and when they don't work or its not as easy as I expected, I scrap it and start over. A new topic, a new direction and probably a little overthinking. Then it happens again. It feels like 3am the night before a paper is due and suddenly I realize that I don't have anything done for it. But what is it that's due? I don't even think I remember the assignment. Shoot, now I'm questioning myself.

You know when you're cooking a fried egg and the pan is too hot and there are those nasty little brown edges that aren't really crunchy and aren't really chewy, just somewhere disgusting between the two? And since the pan was too hot either the yolk is overcooked as well, or the white is still gooey and mucus-like. Its too bad there aren't more important things in the world to be concerned about.

$200 for passing GO. That what it feels like. You wake up, pass by a few places that are yours and then people who seem friendly but are really trying to screw you and eventually you pass go and get your $200. Its cyclical and a bit cynical. Sometimes its fun... when you're winning. But then either you or people around you get screwed really bad. Then it isn't so much fun. But its supposed to be a game right? Is it okay to keep playing when there is career making/blowing backstabbing taking place? Obviously this isn't about the game anymore. It's serious. People are getting hurt. What should I do? Can I do anything? I'm comfortable with Marvin Gardens and the railroads though...

Switchfoot has a song called Company Car and one of the lines says, "I've become one with the ones that I've never believed in." I think it's a song about dissonance and knowing that we are meant for something more. Then one day we realize it, but we have a company car and we're winning monopoly. But for what? Is our soul worth it? Shouldn't we live for things that matter and not the system?

A friend of mine, Anne Lamott, says in her book Plan B: Further thoughts on grace, "Be where your butt is and breathe." (Btw, Anne doesn't know I exist, but we've had a lot of conversations in coffee shops over the months it took me to finish the book). I forget so much just to slow down and take a breath, to be where my butt is and breathe for a minute. Maybe this is a point in my life that is so significant and important to what is next that it feels like its going to take forever. Like maple syrup on the kitchen counter. Its sticky and it feels like its going to take forever to clean up, but in the end, your counter will be clean and something magical can happen. For now, there just seems to be a lot of maple syrup.

Hipster clothes and shopping at church...

This post was originally called "Pardon me, the cynic." which i started about 6mos ago and never posted it because I felt it was incomplete. Recent thoughts have been related so I figured now was as good a time as any.

The old post:

Yesterday, I went to a church that I have attended on and off for a couple years. I went with a very poor attitude, a bitter heart, and I judged them for every move they made, or didn't. I would even say that I went purely because "I should go to church" and because it was something to do on a Sunday night. So, I sat and wrote. I've paraphrased a little so that it will makes sense to more than just myself.

"With arms high and heart abandoned" we don't stand in awe of the One who made it all, we hang out for a couple hours to spiritually get off and then leave. Worship is apparently now a concert, and its really important for the people up front to wear all the trendy clothes, even the really weird wtf accessories. I don't get it. What the hell happened to church? It seems this group of people collectively decided to believe that his is what church was supposed to be. Somewhere along the way, we forgot that living a godly life means more than just once a week. My God."

Then it came time for the teaching, and like usual at this church, I found myself challenged.

The new addition:

I read that and I know exactly how I felt because I feel the same way every time I go back. This time, however, I started wondering if what I felt had more to do with me and less the people I was judging. I walked in the same way I go into "that store" at the mall; similar feelings to discovering "that guy". Everybody looks the same, and I don't feel like I fit, nor do I want to. This time the teaching didn't do it for me either. I was distracted, sure, but it felt the same as any message I had heard in any church. Amidst frustration I did see some people I haven't seen in a long time and that was nice. Leaving, I had a stark realization. I stopped looking at all I had found wrong with the place an saw, maybe for the first time, what they were doing right. Collectively, they are a group (a large one at that) who are doing what seems best to them to do good and follow their God. As it happens, they also all like to dress similarly which shouldn't matter. None of it should matter, but somehow it does. I don't like it, and I don't like that I don't like it. It's another manifestation of the paradox that seems to follow me and a lot of people of similar age who call themselves Christians. We like Jesus and a lot of the Christian ideals like love your neighbor, but not religion. Not church. Not dressing the same as everyone and singing songs that nobody knows the meaning of.

I'm not sure if this is just babbling at this point, and I apologize for the complaining tone, but it is honest. I'm just trying to figure out what I'm feeling, what I think about it all, and what, if anything, I can do about it.

Always caught and never dropped.

When you're in it, you know you're in it. The feeling that overcomes you, the smells that fill your nostrils, and everything else you touch and see and feel are just... different. The world, at least for brief moments finds itself at peace and everything is moving in a glorious harmony. The pain is still real, heartache still happens, but everything is as it should be. When you're in it, you know you're in it. Anne Lamot says this is like a child being tossed into the air by a parent, feeling the exhilaration of being free, but knowing that you will always be caught. It never crosses the mind of a child that its father may drop them, because in their world such a thing is impossible. When you're in it, you feel the same surefire confidence. Right now, I feel as if I cannot fail. I know I might mess up and it may seem as though I have failed at times, but because I'm in it, failures become like stepping stones for future success. I don't know if there has ever been a time in my life where I have felt more at peace or had greater confidence for the future. I'm doing a job where I get to interact with both people and food, the two great loves of my life (other than the requisites of God, family, friends, etc... you know).

This is me:

• I have a degree in psychology. Yes I'm analyzing you.
• For the last year and a half, I have worked for an electrical construction company. I didn't love it, but the money was good and I worked with some great people.
• I have always loved to eat, but only within the last two years did I realize that this was more than just a love, but a passion and an obsession.
• Now, I work with some fantastic people at a restaurant with delicious food. Its ridiculous at times, but it's so great.
  
• I don't know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future, and that is just about the best thing I can ask for. (Cheesy, I know, but it's true.)

Just a bit ducky.

I went for a walk, alone in the woods, not knowing what I might find.
Some trees and rotting apples, a river, women fitness walking.
Sand, bark dust in my shoe, a reminder of a flood in 1996.
No trespassing signs, a couple, some friends fishing.
And a man.

He wasn't necessarily fat, but had that beer belly thing going on. He was sitting on a bench and I observed that his arms could rest of the top his belly. He had two loaves of bread with him and there were ducks all around him. Tearing little pieces off each slice he would flail an arm, which would fling the bread, and his arm would return to rest on his belly. What I loved most about this man was that he seemed peaceful sitting there. The ducks were happy. He seemed happy. And yet, he was also alone. I can't say that he felt alone because we didn't converse, and I doubt he even knows of my existence or that I was watching him. But sitting there, he would break the bread and share it with his friends, and there he found peace. I love that.

And then grace.

Showers are usually intended to make things clean and new again. Sometimes, showers seem to remind of the mess that is always present but pushed into the corners and along the edges so we don't remember they're there. Sometimes, spring rains will push all of the mud and debris from along the curbs and corners of the street into the middle. In those times I hardly want to walk down the street. Showers for bathing can bring the same thing- A reminder of how dirty we have become and the chance to become clean. Sometimes, though, it seems the dirt of our youth has become forever lodged in the pores of our soul. Adolescent misunderstanding and thoughtless pursuit have stained the underside of our fingernails and all we can do is scrub. Unfortunately, time is what will take the stains away, not scrubbing harder. To perform an act over and over intending a different result is insanity, right? So why do we always go out to play in the mud and expect to stay clean?

One day, the mirror...

told me who I was. It stopped, stared, looked me in the eye, and faked half a smile. Then it told me who I was. Except that isn't me. I'm different than that, a little less stereotypical. I try to convince myself that the mirror is wrong and that the real me is more genuine, more loving, less cynical, less angry, perhaps more muscular, and a little cleaner kept. Then I realize the mirror isn't lying. Sure, it doesn't know who I am, but then again, sometimes I wonder if I even do. All I know is...

Transition.

It's funny how sometimes we create plans. Extravagant plans that encapsulate every last little detail. Finally, we reach a point where the plan should materialize and those little details should blossom into flowers of reality. Then, I realize that this is real life and real life doesn't always look like the picture on the menu. Not that its, bad; just different than expected.

I find conversations with current college students very entertaining in a sadistic kind of way. My humor is at their perhaps misguided view of a grand future. "After I graduate, I'm going to get a job with [insert grandiose cadre of companies] and live in Portland." It really does sound nice, and perhaps even I will leave the comfort of my parent's home and venture into that place called the real world. I mean like the TV show.

Having graduated and found nothing but dead ends with my pursuit of that job which would allow me to live in Portland, I find myself at home again, but with new perspective. It has taken me months to come to terms with, but I think its good. I've said before that I am "caught in transition with hopes and dreams I don't yet know what to do with." This is 100% true, but I might be getting closer to knowing what to do with them. I'm learning that one's current mindset is very easily influenced by those they are around. For instance, when I'm at work, I think about how I could be an electrician and a good one at that. Slowly, the back of my mind lends a quiet voice, reminding me of those hopes and dreams which teeter on the edge of becoming fears with each thought of a future without them.

I had another realization. I didn't even know what hopes or dreams I had until I found myself months into the summer job turned into "work until I find a 'real' job". What if I had found a job straight out of the gate? Would I have slowed down long enough to think about what I want to live for and who I want to become? Perhaps I would have been okay with it; that's what scares me the most.

Almost tears.

Its been four years minus a small handful of days since I last cried. I don't just mean tears either because I get those all the time when I accidentally pull out a nose hair. I mean a good cry. I simply do not cry. I like to say its because I'm an "iron pillar of masculine strength". While I may wish for that to be true, it is unfortunately not. This isn't to say that I'm not moved by things or sometimes wish that I could cry. I wish I could cry all the time. I hear that its even healthy. I even think of times when it would be appropriate to cry. I am moved by both simple things and complex things; the moon on a clear morning before the sun comes up, flowers growing where they should not, that damned biggest loser show (embarrassing, I know), and things far more serious. Tonight I was driving and thinking, which I do often, and a thought entered my tiny yearning brain. I love food and I would even venture to say I might enjoy it more than most people I know. It's never a chore and always enjoyable. I love it. But what about people who don't have food? Then I imagined a little scenario. There was a little girl I met in Romania (you can read about her in "Dandelions") and I will never forget her or her brown eyes. She wanted me to buy flowers from her, but I refused. I imagined her asking me for food and me telling her no. Then a flood of other children's faces flooded my mind, campers I had at Tilikum, children of friends, even my family and my friends. And for a split second a tear wanted to push itself out onto my cheek. Selfishly, I held it back and thought of something else. Those images are sticky though. Especially telling them no. And that's what I do. This is me wondering what its like to be somebody who does something about passions and convictions. This is me in awe of the inconsistencies of my own life. This is me hating money for seeming to hold me back from doing something about these feelings (which I know is a total farse). This is a small bit of the dissonance I feel between my mind and my heart. May their blood be on my hands if I go on as before, and continue to do nothing.