One of the toys I'm auctioning this month...
Monday, November 21, 2005
EBAY
I'm doing pretty well on my eBay auctions. I'm almost to 20 listings. It is so hard selling what I own, especially when I know I'm selling at a loss, but it will be worth it when I'm debt free! The process is gradually getting easier with each listing. When it's over, I should be able to carry everything I own in a few suitcases. I wonder what it will feel like to own nothing but clothes?
Sunday, November 20, 2005
THANK YOU!
I like to practice my writing with trivial stuff that I find amusing or annoying or whatever, so I don't normally directly address my spiritual life in this blog, but I've got to do it today.
Church hit me right between the eyes. I knew I had it coming, but in both services it was like the sermons were spoken right to me. Even the Sunday School lesson was a bullseye.
The main thing I came away with was this life lesson: I've got to admit that I'm depressed before Jesus can help me recover from it. I've been spending all my energy denying the problem instead of just owning up to it and asking God for help. So, here's my real first step: Help, God!
Here was another thing I need to write down before I forget it. Men tend to look to their careers to define their self image, and when work goes bad or stops, men are more vulnerable to depression and temptation. That's normal. Another one that I'll file away for later: women tend to look to their relationship with their partner rather than work. So they tend to get depressed and tempted when they perceive the relationship as having problems, or when they are between relationships. I don't know if that's true or not, but the work thing is for me.
But I don't want it to be! I don't want to be defined by a job, good or bad. I want to be defined by God's design and plan for me as his creation and the object of his affection. And I want to be stable emotionally no matter what my work circumstances are. Like Paul and Silas, I want to sing out from the jail cell! So I'm going to rally my faith and fight this thing like my life depends on it. I'm going to focus on Jesus and not my circumstances, and (it's Thanksgiving for cryin' out loud so this part should be easy) praise God with a thankful heart for his blessings, most of all his gift of Jesus, who, by the way, has stuck with me like glue through this whole ordeal!
Church hit me right between the eyes. I knew I had it coming, but in both services it was like the sermons were spoken right to me. Even the Sunday School lesson was a bullseye.
The main thing I came away with was this life lesson: I've got to admit that I'm depressed before Jesus can help me recover from it. I've been spending all my energy denying the problem instead of just owning up to it and asking God for help. So, here's my real first step: Help, God!
Here was another thing I need to write down before I forget it. Men tend to look to their careers to define their self image, and when work goes bad or stops, men are more vulnerable to depression and temptation. That's normal. Another one that I'll file away for later: women tend to look to their relationship with their partner rather than work. So they tend to get depressed and tempted when they perceive the relationship as having problems, or when they are between relationships. I don't know if that's true or not, but the work thing is for me.
But I don't want it to be! I don't want to be defined by a job, good or bad. I want to be defined by God's design and plan for me as his creation and the object of his affection. And I want to be stable emotionally no matter what my work circumstances are. Like Paul and Silas, I want to sing out from the jail cell! So I'm going to rally my faith and fight this thing like my life depends on it. I'm going to focus on Jesus and not my circumstances, and (it's Thanksgiving for cryin' out loud so this part should be easy) praise God with a thankful heart for his blessings, most of all his gift of Jesus, who, by the way, has stuck with me like glue through this whole ordeal!
Saturday, November 19, 2005
PERSONIFICATION
I feel like a triumphant Constantine entering Rome. The hideous wallpaper border in Keri's apartment is finally down. And all it took was two days of elbow grease and two kinds of stripping solution. When a friend suggested painting over the stubborn eyesore, I balked AND scoffed. Surrender was not an option. I would win this one: defeat the enemy at all costs.
Ever find that a simple possession, an inanimate object, can seem to take on human characteristics when it stands in your way? Well, I put this one to bed and tucked it in. At least one of my life's battles is won.
Ever find that a simple possession, an inanimate object, can seem to take on human characteristics when it stands in your way? Well, I put this one to bed and tucked it in. At least one of my life's battles is won.
Friday, November 18, 2005
NEWSWORTHY
Since I have no permanent address right now, my parents are getting my subscription to USA today. I've been missing getting a daily paper, feeling isolated, but I just realized that I can get the newspaper online, sort of - even the comics. Check out this link.
REALITY CHECK
I don't recognize myself. Where did my tan go? Where did these funky glasses come from, and where did I put my contacts? I can't remember the last time I tucked in my shirt. My belts are still in the suitcase. And when was my last haircut? I'm sitting here on a Friday night barefoot in my 3-year-old Gap t shirt and worn out AE shorts, (OK, they were worn out when I bought them) sporting a four-day beard. Working on eBay, I glanced over and saw a Tommy ad on TV with lots of well-dressed college-age kids looking happy & fulfilled. Being here in Ruston, a college town if there ever was one, is reminding me of what it was like to be in school full time - spending an hour on my hair every morning to get the curls just right or buying new clothes for that party on the weekend. I think about those days, a time when my biggest worry was which shirt I was going to wear. I had a wardrobe that probably cost what I make now in a year. I'd like to go back in time and visit those days.....and smack myself into reality. Isn't growing up fun?
I don't think any of my friends would label me socially retarded, but I'm questioning myself. Have you heard Jamie Cullum's song "Twentysomething"? How can I be a 30 year-old twentysomething?
I don't think any of my friends would label me socially retarded, but I'm questioning myself. Have you heard Jamie Cullum's song "Twentysomething"? How can I be a 30 year-old twentysomething?
GOOD GRADES
My nephew finished his finals. He earned a 4.0 this quarter. I'm a proud uncle. Ben's GPA made me think about getting report cards in college and high school. I always earned A's, but in the end, the grades didn't mean that much to me. They didn't seem to be accurate measures of my level of learning in the different classes. It's strange to think about being graded again, but I'll experience this phenomenon just the same when I return to school in the Fall. Were (are) grades important to you? What would be a better alternative?
Thursday, November 17, 2005
SINGING THE WALLPAPER BLUES FOR MY SUPPER
I went over to my my brother's wonderful girlfriend's house for supper tonight. She didn't make me sing for it, exactly, but my arms sure are sore. The wallpaper border in her bathroom doesn't match the look she's going for in there, so she asked me to help her strip it. I scored it, and coated it in this wallpaper remover stuff. And being a person who follows directions, I waited a half hour. Then I started to scrape it, but LO AND BEHOLD the previous tenant (it's a rental) used paste that was not water soluble. (NOOOOOO! Why God? WHY?) So I called it a day,and we decided to use something stronger later. Instead, we sat down and I showed her how to use eBay. Why on Earth would somebody apply non-strippable wallpaper in a rental?
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
STORY STARTER
Thinking about my parent's toys got me thinking about a story idea. I sketched out the idea below. It's totally fictional, sort of a compilation of vague memories of family stories. What do you think? Be gentle. Remember, this is an undedited incomplete rough draft.
Betty Anne lay quietly in bed thinking about the day stretched out before her. She wiggled her toes under the covers. 5:30: No use getting up now. Mother would just make her get back in bed. She stuck out her nose from under the covers, and, feeling an uncomfortable chill, darted it back under. Too cold to get up and get dressed, anyway. She thought about the scene that was waiting in the living room: the stocking from Santa with the new pencils, the walnuts, and of course, the orange in the toe. Maybe a new book would be in there, too. She would know soon enough, she consoled herself. After their stockings, the family would take turns opening gifts. Her turn to unwrap would be after her mother, but before her brothers. "Ladies first," she could hear her father saying. She imagined the boys' irritated expressions when they were forced to put their gifts back under the tree. She wondered who was more patient, her brothers in waiting to open their gifts, or her father, in training the boys to have good manners. She must try to be patient, too. But the anticipation was killing her. What gift had her parents bought her this year? Betty had dropped hints about the star-shaped silver charm for her bracelet. How could Mother and Dad not have heard her remarking last month to her cousin how much she'd like it, how wonderful it would look next to the two other charms dangling from her wrist. If their gift wasn't the charm, then she had no idea what it would be. She had already started writing a thank you note to Aunt Grace and Uncle Leo for their card with a silver dollar in it. Their gift was the same every year. From ther grandmother she'd get either handkerchiefs or underwear. The boys would give her something they'd made together from scrap wood. Though she'd been very careful when making their gifts, they had not turned out as nicely as mother's potholders. She'd tried to make desk sets for her brothers and her father, but the glue on the decoupaged pen cans had stayed tacky, and she was afraid that the tissue paper she'd wrapped them in would stick. Oh, well. She'd done her best, and after all, "it's the thought that counts." Betty glanced at the clock: 5:50. Right on cue, she heard her mother making noise in the kitchen. "In 10 minutes," Betty thought, "I'll get up and help her. Well, I certainly am in the Christmas Spirit." Most mornings, because she had to bathe and dress for school, Betty was excused from helping prepare breakfast. Mother insisted that the family eat their regular meal together in the dining room before "going anywhere near those stockings or tree." Then, Dad would have Bob read the family the Christmas story. And finally, they would go into the living room and see the tree. She wondered how Mother could get up so early after staying up so late putting up the decorations. Reluctantly pulling back the covers Betty thought, "I guess I'll get up now to help her."
Betty Anne lay quietly in bed thinking about the day stretched out before her. She wiggled her toes under the covers. 5:30: No use getting up now. Mother would just make her get back in bed. She stuck out her nose from under the covers, and, feeling an uncomfortable chill, darted it back under. Too cold to get up and get dressed, anyway. She thought about the scene that was waiting in the living room: the stocking from Santa with the new pencils, the walnuts, and of course, the orange in the toe. Maybe a new book would be in there, too. She would know soon enough, she consoled herself. After their stockings, the family would take turns opening gifts. Her turn to unwrap would be after her mother, but before her brothers. "Ladies first," she could hear her father saying. She imagined the boys' irritated expressions when they were forced to put their gifts back under the tree. She wondered who was more patient, her brothers in waiting to open their gifts, or her father, in training the boys to have good manners. She must try to be patient, too. But the anticipation was killing her. What gift had her parents bought her this year? Betty had dropped hints about the star-shaped silver charm for her bracelet. How could Mother and Dad not have heard her remarking last month to her cousin how much she'd like it, how wonderful it would look next to the two other charms dangling from her wrist. If their gift wasn't the charm, then she had no idea what it would be. She had already started writing a thank you note to Aunt Grace and Uncle Leo for their card with a silver dollar in it. Their gift was the same every year. From ther grandmother she'd get either handkerchiefs or underwear. The boys would give her something they'd made together from scrap wood. Though she'd been very careful when making their gifts, they had not turned out as nicely as mother's potholders. She'd tried to make desk sets for her brothers and her father, but the glue on the decoupaged pen cans had stayed tacky, and she was afraid that the tissue paper she'd wrapped them in would stick. Oh, well. She'd done her best, and after all, "it's the thought that counts." Betty glanced at the clock: 5:50. Right on cue, she heard her mother making noise in the kitchen. "In 10 minutes," Betty thought, "I'll get up and help her. Well, I certainly am in the Christmas Spirit." Most mornings, because she had to bathe and dress for school, Betty was excused from helping prepare breakfast. Mother insisted that the family eat their regular meal together in the dining room before "going anywhere near those stockings or tree." Then, Dad would have Bob read the family the Christmas story. And finally, they would go into the living room and see the tree. She wondered how Mother could get up so early after staying up so late putting up the decorations. Reluctantly pulling back the covers Betty thought, "I guess I'll get up now to help her."
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
TOYS
So, like I said yesterday, I'm playing with little plastic toys (I know, I'm a loser.) all day. And I started thinking about the toys my parent's, both in their 70's now, played with when they were children. They kept a few of them, and I've heard stories about the others. There are some big differences between their playthings and the things filling today's toyboxes. Firstly, they didn't have many toys, and they had to use their imaginations alot. Mom's favorite toys were spools, matchboxes, and a dollhouse made from an orange crate. Dad, being a city kid, was a little more sophisticated. He had cast iron cars and celluloid horses. Mom had a couple of celludoid dolls. And they had their books, and that was pretty much it. But they have more fond memories of their simple toys than I think today's children will have of their trendy gadgets. Maybe I'm just being sentimental, but I don't think so. Growing up in the Great Depression, I think the folks understood that buying a toy was a great sacrifice for their parents. Mom said that her mother used to pinch a penny until it cried 'uncle.' But their childhood wasn't overshadowed by what today's standards might label poverty. They both got up Christmas mornings overjoyed because they'd have walnuts and oranges in their stockings - rarities in their households. I have a hard time grasping how much their world has changed since they were children. I mean, they grew up in a world before plastic. Think about it: cast-iron trucks! Can you imagine it? I wonder what kids will play with when I'm 70.
Monday, November 14, 2005
LEGO
I'm selling my Lego collection to make some extra cash; I'm right in the middle of sorting & inventory...snore... And I decided that they would probably sell better put together instead of in zip lock bags. I can't just put them together the way they came from the factory because I bought them used and at different times, making any potential sets missing so many parts that it's hopeless. I checked out the prices of some "custom models" on eBay. After seeing the prices on them, I think I should choose "Master Lego Architect & Builder" as my new career. Hmmmm.... I think most of the serious Legofiles must avoid eBay for their buying/selling. I found a site called Bricklink that looks like it's their secret love nest. Seriously, I always thought it would be cool to be one of those guys who worked at Legoland doing nothing but making Painted Lady Victorians or Statues of Liberty from little plastic bricks. I never thought about freelancing it, but that just what Burik Models and Lions Gate do, and I'll bet a lot more, those are just the first 2 that turned up when I googled "custom lego models." Well, I guess I'll go to bed now and dream of mini figures and models. If you could build anything from Legos, what would you pick?
Sunday, November 13, 2005
NEW BOOK
I just started reading Gordon MacDonald's new update of Ordering Your Private World. Heard of it? If you've read it, tell me what you think.
Here's a quote from the jacket:
"As a young, ambitious pastor, Gordon MacDonald was off to a fast start in a sizable congregation. A naturally gifted leader with a full schedule, he was a man of influence in his church and community. Pastor MacDonald was driven in his ambition to serve God and His people. Until the day he 'hit the wall' . . . . Driven people often project a bravado of confidence as they forge ahead with their acheivement-oriented life plan."
Here's a quote from the jacket:
"As a young, ambitious pastor, Gordon MacDonald was off to a fast start in a sizable congregation. A naturally gifted leader with a full schedule, he was a man of influence in his church and community. Pastor MacDonald was driven in his ambition to serve God and His people. Until the day he 'hit the wall' . . . . Driven people often project a bravado of confidence as they forge ahead with their acheivement-oriented life plan."
WELCOME HOME
I'm totally enjoying being with my nephew this month. He is hilarious. I am so glad that we share the same sense of humor; while he's kicked back on the couch, I can just lean back in the recliner and listen, laughing until my sides ache. Losing touch with my extended family these last couple of years, I didn't know what I'd been missing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
