Shallow Thinker

Sometimes, one post isn’t enough to clear my brain.  Mind if I ramble on a bit more?  No?  Thanks, I knew you’d listen.  After all, I am a shallow thinker, so it takes me a bit longer to figure things out.

While I am a slow learner, I do understand that pain and heartaches are nothing new.  Sometimes we just notice it more than other times.  But all around, people are constantly looking to find the calm in the midst of their storms.  The most typical response that I have seen is that we just grow calloused to the sadness around us and we trudge on with our lives.

Mr. Jones lost his wife. She was always so sweet to me.  I have a meeting in an hour.

The Robinsons are getting a divorce.  I hate it for their kids.  I wonder what we’ll do for supper tonight.

Jennifer seems really upset about something.  I hope someone talks with her.  Ah, I’m already running behind.

Cold and callous?  Sure, but it’s the way we run.  After all, we don’t have the time to sit and listen to every little detail of all these peoples’ lives.  And heck, even if we did, wouldn’t it be depressing to have to struggle through these things with every single person that was having a bad day?

The only true response that I have seen work is love.  Compassion.  It’s the kind of compassion that has you just sit in silence while someone cries on your shoulder.  The love that sends you out in the wee hours of the morning after someone has made a mistake.  Again.  It’s the deep friendship where two people embrace during an emotional storm and they both know that they have a companion through the trials.

As much as the politicians try, government can’t comfort all who are weary.  As much as the congregations gather, the church isn’t comforting those who are heavy-hearted.  There are many who still struggle and long to find some rest.

I don’t even pretend to think that there is anything that I could do to solve the global needs for comfort, compassion, peace, or love.  This void existed before I arrived and will continue long after I am gone.  However, I am reminded of a quote from a guy that loved the teachings of Jesus, but didn’t care much for the actions of his modern-day followers.  “Be the change you want to see in the world.”  The solution that I long to see in my world can only come from one place.  Me.

But how?

Note - This first part of this post was written two weeks ago, The latter was edited today. Maybe it took up until now for my words to make sense to me. They probably won’t make sense to you at all.

—-Two weeks ago—-
I got a call this weekend that my grandfather has been diagnosed with lung cancer.  Apparently, the prostate cancer has spread and the doctors gave him a time frame of 3-6 months.  Of course, you never know where they get those numbers from, but when they start doing calculations, it’s not a good sign.  My dad and his brothers are working through trying to get both of my grandparents into an assisted living facility.  A difficult transition, to say the least.

On Sunday, Butterfly was pretty sick and we ended up having to get blood tests done on Monday.  Though she is fine-and-dandy now, the doctors think that a colonoscopy will be best to rule out major complications based on some recurring problems that we’ve noticed.  It’s a “minor” procedure for the medical community, but it’s a huge weight on the shoulders of this over-protective father and her always caring mother.

In the past month, two couple friends have experienced the loss of their unborn children through miscarriages.  Another couple that we know experienced the delivery of a still born child on Christmas morning. A friend from high school is waiting anxiously for word regarding two children that she is trying to adopt from a foreign country.

Sickness. Death. Pain. Worry. Grief. Heartache. Tears. My mind is unable to comprehend the source, cause, or reason for such suffering.  What I can understand is the fact that there are a lot of people carrying around burdens and worries that intrude into their every action. Sometimes, I wonder how many people around me are using all the energy they have just to put a smile on and get through the day while their inside cries out for rest and peace.

—-Today—-
I have been amazed at the response that we have received from friends and family regarding Butterfly’s procedure. It is truly comforting to know that our daughter is loved so deeply by so many people. Her procedure was yesterday and she has recovered well enough to fight with her sister.

I am still troubled a bit, though. A mom was in the hospital with her son having a scope done, but she was by herself. After some complications with the IV, the mom needed a minute to compose herself. After three hours in the car to get there and waiting through the procedure, she was turning around to drive another three hours back home. Carrying this burden alone. I saw a few other single parents at the hospital. While these aren’t necessarily broken homes, it was difficult to see on parent struggle alone during this time while I knew that I was supported by so many.

There is no moral to this post or any ending tagline that I can conceive to make things better. This is just something that I’ve noticed recently. People are hurting. Families are broken. Burdens are heavy.

Is there a practical way to offer relief? I shall contemplate some more.

All you need is a whiffle bat and a yard full of sweetgum balls. I could swat these thing for hours. So, either it’s a great stress reliever or I’m easily amused.

Probably both.

At this moment I’m supposed to be editing a document that feeds into a final report.  But I’m not.  Why?  Excellent question.  Here’s one of the sentences that the author put into the document:

To provide a basis for system analysis, a hierarchal decomposition of functionality has been prepared to use as a straw-man design against which each of the individual functions can be addressed across the full range of available new and emerging technologies, assessing performance risk, compatibility with operating environment, other on-board system technology applications, and availability for production.

WHAT?!

No, stop.  Don’t reread it.  It won’t help you at all.  You still won’t make any sense of it.  But I have to wade through another 36 pages of run on sentences, misapplied big words, extraneous adjectives, and vague generalities.  I thought I went into engineering to avoid having to read stuff.

Maybe this will all make sense if I read the report upside down…

Yes, I know that I haven’t blogged in a bit.  It’s not from a lack of ideas, it’s from a lack of time.  And because I’m a slacker.  Either way, I have a few things in the works.  Here are the teasers for when I have time:

• A check to see where I am vs. my resolution(s) from last year.  If you want a challenge, you can guess how much I actually weigh now.
• A look forward to this year.  What do I want to achieve?  How many jobs do I expect to get fired from?  Again, feel free to use the comments section for suggestions.
• A review of how much I get to play with baby dolls and barbies now that I have two girls.  At least they let me keep a little train set and some legos.
• I’m sure that once classes start back on the 14th, I’ll have the need to write a bunch of posts about how much school stinks.
• I’ll also write about how I should probably go and get a PhD.  (And this is where I expect Kelley to hurl something at her computer.)
• My friend, Lance, killed somebody on New Year’s Eve, but I was too busy trying to be a rock star to care.

So, there’s my list.  If you have any requests, like a funny story about meat consumption, feel free to let me know!

I’ll be the first to admit I was probably somewhat sheltered during my childhood.  My favorite restaurant was Captain D’s  (still a guilty pleasure on occasion) and my favorite snack was Slim Jims (I got a whole tube of them one birthday).  Life was simple…and it was good.

During those formative days, my introductions into comedy were Ray Stevens and Jerry Clower.  While both were successful mostly in the South, they did see a small amount of nationwide notoriety.  Stevens took off-the-wall concepts, put them to music, and turned them into cash.  Clower, on the other hand, was a master storyteller, well steeped in the traditions of church-going southerners.  Of course, the local radio stations no longer feature these gentlemen and the XM comedy stations carry people who weren’t alive when these guys were in their prime.

On the way home this past Friday, I heard a tune that sounded familiar.  As I listened, I noticed that I even knew some of the the words.  Eventually, my brain worked through some of the filing cabinets and recognized the song as one of Ray Stevens’ hits from years gone by.  But the display on my radio was wrong.  It said “Cledus T. Judd.”  What?  Judd does these stupid parody songs that force me to search the dial for an infomercial just to have an upgrade.  I listened a bit more to the song and couldn’t figure out which voice was singing, but it just didn’t sound right.  On my way to work this morning, it happened again.  A diferent Stevens hit being attributed to “Cledus T. Judd.”  This time, I could tell that the voice wasn’t right.  What in the heck is going on?

I came to my desk and did some intense Google searching to find that Judd has actually released a “tribute” CD of Stevens’ songs.  And you know what’s worse than that?  The radio station plays them!  WHY?!  Judd adds absolutely no value to these old classics.  As a matter of fact, his over-the-top hick accent makes me want to bash my radio.  Why not just play Ray’s versions of these songs?  You don’t mess with the classics!  And you kids get off my lawn!

I just don’t know if I can allow my girls to grow up in a place where this sort of thing happens.  The next thing you know, some smooth singing young fella will come along and try to redo the standards of Sinatra.  And you know what…he’ll fail miserably.

Sometimes I just don’t understand professors.  Sure, a part of it is their willingness to teach our future for such small wages.  If I were in their position, I’d completely abuse that power.  “Listen, lady.  If you want your kid to grow up and learn to do things right, it’ll be another 50 grand.  Otherwise, I teach young Johnny how to cook the books and he’ll wind up in the slammer with all who have gone on before.  It’s your choice.”

The other part of my puzzlement comes from some of the things they do.  Our example comes from this semester’s experience.  I have two classes.  One deals with financial stuff that I hope to avoid for the rest of my life while the other works on my communication skills.  The financial class has been brutal.  The pace, the content, and the workload have been much higher than anything that I have experienced thus far in grad school.  Sure, I’d like to yell at the professor and remind him that we are students that have full-time jobs and families, but I’m sure he wouldn’t care.  But, the most troubling thing came when I looked at my course syllabus this past weekend.

I have been through 11 lectures and two exams.  Each lecture required 2-3 hours of homework and the exams required a good bit of studying.  So, with only one class and one exam left, you’d think that I’d have most of the grade figured out.  WRONG.  Over 50% of the course grade is still up for grabs!  Can you believe that?  All of the work that I’ve put in for the previous 15 weeks matters less than what I do in the next week-and-a-half?!

Usually, I’m able to hit the last couple of weeks with an easy stride, tie up a few loose ends, and then bid the semester farewell as it moseys into the sunset.  But this semester, I’m going to have to actually try.  What is with these professors?  I’d much rather learn how to cook the books.

Regular blog readers, please disregard this post as it is the only method I know to share some photos in full quality without jamming e-mail inboxes.  But feel free to browse, if you like.

For years, I have avoided salads and green things.  It just so happens that I might have been onto something!

http://cspinet.org/new/pdf/cspi_top_10_fda.pdf

Just look at that poison.

I have yet to see the official posting from the Jay’s Hope 5K that shows all of the finishers in order, so I have absolutely no idea how close I was to getting beat or how much I got blown out of the water, but at least I got my name in print!

Of course, this brings up a troubling trend.  In my first official 5K, I finished first in my age group.  In the Run4 Missions 5K this past spring, I finished second in my age group.  Now third.  Extrapolation says that by the time I’m 40, I’ll be “that guy” who is still jogging slowly long after the event is over.  Sweet.

Facebook seems to be the culprit for a lot of dying blogs on the internet (mine included).  It instantly connects people and provides a wonderful waste of time.  Twitter came a long, but has been unable to dethrone the Book of Faces in it’s reign.  But I submit to you that the all powerful Google will be the downfall of Facebook.  Why?  Try it and see:

http://images.google.com/imagelabeler/

Sure, it seems so simple, but it’s catchy.  And if I know the Googles, it won’t stop there.  Watch out internet.  Here they come!

Thanks to the Atlanta Journal Constitution for matching advertisements with stories: