Oh joy…
It may be considered Clackamas county, but it’s not more than a mile from where I sit. Yay nutjobs!
If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make sure that no one gets in and that my guns are all loaded…
It may be considered Clackamas county, but it’s not more than a mile from where I sit. Yay nutjobs!
If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make sure that no one gets in and that my guns are all loaded…
I would LOVE to sit in icewater for an hour and then outpreform myself on an obstacle course/shooting gallery…Warriors Test Their Physical Limit
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It’s time for a new blog type, somewhat similar to Andrew’s Random Rants (from ages ago), but shorter and to the point, without having to listen to me rant about it. You instead get to subject your eyes to the torture. So, without further ado…
I just don’t understand people who put advertisements on the backs of their cars. “Finally! Safe Natural Skin Care for Infants! Call 503-555-5555 for more info.” Do they seriously think that I’m going to drop everything (while DRIVING) and say “Good golly, miss Molly, my infant could use some of THAT! I’ll call RIGHT NOW!”? Maybe the ploy is to get me to ram their car inadvertently so they can collect the insurance money, and the ad is all just a fiendish plot to distract me into doing so?
And some of the ads make you really wonder, “Who writes this stuff?”
Case and point: “Latin Repair Service. 503-555-2345″ This means one of three things:
1) “If your Latin’s broke, we’ll fix it.”
2) “If you need a Spanish Speaking Repair Man, I’m writing my window sign in English for you.”
3) “I’m not really Latin, I’m just hoping to get your affirmative action jobs for minorities with this neat sign.”
If I were in control of the government, I’d ban those from the backs of cars. I’d probably follow by banning those in-car portable DVD players installed on the ceiling in the car. If I got a dollar for every time I nearly rear-ended someone from trying to figure out what they were watching, I could probably retire…
Well, as of right now, I’m leaning towards a study on the most time-honored French military tactic: Surrender.
(Apologies to any French reading this… Me gusta Francais.)
…
Oh, wait… that was Spanish…
Not so much technical this time, I just figured out how to make it stop saying “Powered By Scribefire” on the bottom of every post…
Still no sound, but I haven’t had any more memory errors (yet). We’ll see where things go from here…
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If you don’t hear from me in a couple of days, it’s because I’m in the process of computer repair. Yes, that’s right, the old beast is rearing its ugly head at me, reminding me that tax time isn’t coming nearly soon enough (since I plan on getting a laptop if I get a good enough refund this year). For now, though, I have to make due, but I wiped my hard drive yesterday and today am trying to get everything running the way it should be (HA! That’s a laugh…) For now, it’s running okay, but I have no sound. At all. No idea why. Working on it, I promise.
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It’s amazing what simply cleaning up your hard drive can do once in a while.
As I was cleaning up in preparation to wipe the whole thing out and start over, I came across an Word file I didn’t recall creating, so I opened it (ignoring the fact that, if there’s a file you don’t remember creating on your computer, it’s not particularly wise to open it…). It turned out to be harmless enough, in fact it was a chat log from a conversation I’d had with a friend some years ago. (the date stamp reads June of 2005). I skimmed it briefly, it was mostly just basic conversation, but then I hit one point that kind of stuck out at me. I asked her, if she could be doing anything five years from that time, what would it be, to which she replied, “Being happy. I could list a lot of things, but what it all means, at the end, is just being happy in life. Whether I am in love with someone or not, married or single, on my own with a ton of money or just barely scraping by.. I just want to be happy.”
I made a comment in reply about that being one of the better responses I’d ever gotten to that question, and that most people just list off ‘what they want to be when they grow up’. Her response to me was, “Why bother? Odds are you won’t be anywhere near what you plan or envision anyway. Could be something completely amazing you never would have dreamed.”
It’s funny how sometimes, when you’re really not paying all that much attention, God can use someone else to state the obvious and it doesn’t make sense until later.
Two and a half years have passed since the conversation, and in looking back, it’s interesting to see how much I’ve changed in my own perception of myself since then, and even beyond then back to high school. After high school, I was convinced, I was going on to work as a journalist. That was my calling. That was my life’s goal. I wanted to be a pulitzer prize winning newspaper writer with piles of awards for my hard-hitting investigations. That lasted about as long as my hopeful outlook for the future of the journalistic profession (I have seen the future, kids, and it ain’t pretty. If you weren’t already aware, most journalists are nuts…).
Once that was over, I went to work in retail while trying to sort life out. After some time settling in, I thought I had it figured out again: Forget journalism; I want to tell stories! I want to write bestselling novels, have my books turned into movies by film greats like Steven Spielberg and Peter Jackson, masterful epics that will make all bow to the creativity that is mine! And so I started writing. A lot. I did so much starting, in fact, that I finished maybe one full length story. As creative as I was capable of being, I didn’t find myself having the patience to keep things going very long. Besides, all the writing I ever have time for seems to be devoted to blogging (which, while not as creative as storytelling, helps me keep sharp, even if there are only a handful of people who actually read what I write here).
I think what it all came down to was, I was trying to use what I was doing to make myself happy instead of being happy in whatever I was doing, and it wasn’t working. In fact, the lesson that my friend had tried teaching me didn’t set in until much, much later.
It was sometime last year. I’d changed quite a bit from the boy with dreams of journalism in his head. I’d become a cynical retailer, unhappy in multiple respects with my life but utterly unable to give anyone (myself included) an explanation as to why I was unhappy. People around me saw it, I think, though few, if any, said anything. In March I went to a men’s retreat for church, and at one point while praying, exasperated with life in general, not really sure which way was up, I said, “Okay, God, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. I keep thinking I have things figured out, but none of what I figure out is working. I’m not happy with anything, so would you please just show me where I’m supposed to be going?”
Kids, let me assure you, if you want to maintain the status quo, that is probably not the prayer for you, and had I known what I would’ve been getting myself into in advance, I probably never would have prayed it.
About a week after I said that prayer, God reminded me of a verse; the words of the apostle Paul, “I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.” It was a good thing, too, because in the coming months, everything would seemingly start to fall apart, and that verse would take on a completely new meaning. As life turned to chaos around me, as things I’d been sure about failed, I found I was happy. In losing the things I thought were most valuable, I gained something more valuable: the ability to be content.
It’s also allowed me to do things I wasn’t able to do before. I’ve gotten (shockingly) comfortable around small children (my sister about had a coronary when I picked up one of the kids at church tonight). My change in jobs has given me the ability to spend more time at church, including (as previously mentioned) joining the preaching class. All things that, had you asked me five years ago, I would’ve laughed at you for even suggesting that I might be doing them.
My dreams of being a journalist went by the wayside long ago. My aspirations for being a bestselling novelist have since gone, too. But the one thing I think I’ve finally figured out is, I’m going to be happy with whatever God wants me doing, and if I live out my life doing His will, my life will be well-spent.
I’m cleaning up my hard drives and backing stuff up before I wipe the whole thing (again) and start over, and in doing so, I’m finding some amusing stuff.
For instance, a list of jokes I cracked at my mother as we were on vacation in California three years back when I read words on signs I could use.
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Zamora.
Zamora who?
Can I have Zamora those potatoes?Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Dunnigan.
Dunnigan who?
I did the dishes twice, now I’m Dunnigan.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Dunnigan.
Dunnigan who?
I told this joke before, now I’m Dunnigan.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Datewood.
Datewood who?
Every time Johnny went out, his Datewood stand him up.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Redding.
Redding who?
What’s your address? I’m having trouble Redding the house number.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Manzanita.
Manzanita who?
Jimmy can’t cook, that Manzanita woman.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Arbuckle.
Arbuckle who?
My wife and I can’t use our belts, someone took Arbuckles.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Covelo.
Covelo who?
Covelo-er your speed a bit? You’re cornering awful fast.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Leggett.
Leggett who?
Leggett me, I’m dancin’!Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Eureka.
Eureka who?
Some people stink, but Eureka somethin’ awful.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Weott.
Weott what?
…
Weott who?
You ruined my joke, mom.
Sorry, start again.
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Weott.
Weott who?
Weott to start the joke over again, we really screwed it up.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Redwood.
Redwood who?
Red Green is awesome, anytime something broke, Redwood fix it with duct tape.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Redcrest.
Redcrest who?
I Redcrest is recommended by 4 out of 5 dentists.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Pepperwood.
Pepperwood who?
Pepperwood make you sneeze.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Hugo.
Hugo who?
If Hugo any faster, I’ll scream.Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Albany.
Albany who?
I used to raise rabbits, but Albanys ran off.
Or this video I crafted ages ago using Half Life’s multiplayer function…
Opposing Force Survival Tips ..1
Good times, good times… Back when I had nothing better to do… :P