Stories That No Longer Serve

When I graduated high school, I had one or two stories hanging off me, like particularly clingy mollusks. One of those stories was this:

Photo by Jason Rogers

I have no self-discipline.

In high school, I tried to homeschool myself (don't try this at home, kids) and with insane ambition but complete lack of structure, didn't quite manage it. I slacked off for about three years.

Failure #1

When I got to college (or more accurately, Bible college), I took two correspondence courses, one in American literature and one in American history.

There were no deadlines, only a free form "You have 9 months to finish this course." With inane ambition and a complete lack of structure, I did the first assignments for both courses and then nothing after that.

Failure #2

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I decide to write a thorough literary analysis of the book of Lamentations for my Old Testament class. Line by line. Line by line.

I ended up sitting in my professor's office completely stressed out and overwhelmed, describing how this paper on Lamentations had consumed me, taken over my life, turned into a monster. Oh, and by the way, I hadn't finished it yet.

And then my professor said something about monsters or about this paper being a monster that I strain to remember. It feels important. I don't remember. It was probably some combination of smartass and profound.

In that space of lost memory, I have only the image--that in my life I have two modes of being:

One--Painstakingly, perfectly, picking my way through the rubble of Jerusalem.

Two--Running, screaming from a nameless, faceless terror.

One--Struggling, straining for complete control.

Two--Drinking, smoking, drugging (or in my case, getting loopy as a can of worms on lack of sleep), all to turn off the perfectionist and tune into divine possession.

Whether I was being pursued by the monster or slave-driven by the perfectionist, my story had no space for ordinary, everyday divinity:

The holy normal of 2:34PM. The spirit-filled comma. Visions of eternity punctuated by trips to the bathroom. The transcendence of non-linear video editing. The glory of God. The glory of a perfectly timed cut.

It feels odd to look back now on what might have been the most productive period of my life and realize that this story of "no self-discipline" defined me. It turns up again and again, despite the overwhelming evidence of things made.

Fifty-eight pages, later, I even finished what was meant to be a 10-15 page paper.

I slayed the monster, before it could slay me.

Growing the F--- Up: What I've learned in my late 20s

Adults can still build blanket forts. Right?

When I was 14 and on a rafting trip in Nepal with my family, I did a survey of our fellow travelers that included the question, "Do you feel like an adult?"

All of the 20 and 30 somethings that I surveyed put, "No." [This was an actual survey. I wrote down the questions and asked each person to write down their answers.]

On that theme, I've been contemplating writing this blog post for a while now. And really, I have only one thesis or overarching idea here: 

Your late 20s is when the things that you've avoided dealing with start dealing with you:

This could be anything--a fear of public speaking, a problem with authority, that parking ticket from four years ago that you forgot to pay (oops), your $2 store shopping addiction, your overwhelming hatred for your job, the crap you haven't forgiven your parents for, your beef with God, your lack of a life outside of work, your dread of parallel parking, your out-of-control credit card debt, compounding interest on your student loans, the deteriorating state of your dental health, your aversion to brussels sprouts, your lousy choice in romantic partners, your friends all moving away, and I could go on.

In other words, if there is some area of your life that you have neglected to grow up in, that area of your life is going to make itself felt in a major, probably uncomfortable and possibly painful way (it will bite you in the butt).

If you don't start owning it, it will start owning you. If you don't take care of it, it will take you out. If you don't kick it in the ass, you'll end up on your ass. It's all the same advice, actually.

Why is this? I think in the first half of your 20s, it can be easy to coast on things like good health, natural talents and abilities, friendships you made in college, a solid education, an overweening confidence in your own potential, blatant naiveté, and youthful optimism (obviously, these are not true for everyone).

But unless life is a consistent downhill slope, it's impossible to simply coast forever. Eventually, you will reach a hill. I hate hills.

Like Aristotle said, "We are what we repeatedly do." If what we repeatedly do is eat cheetos for breakfast and complain about a dead end job at the crayon factory, it doesn't matter how talented or healthy or privileged we are. The results won't be pretty.

In your late 20s, things can start to fall apart (or feel like they're falling apart). Things like your body. Or your relationships. Or your career goals and aspirations.

So let's talk about the roles of pain, fear, and grief in this process.

The Role of Pain

Pain is a sign that something is wrong. Where in your life are you feeling pain? Is it in your body? About your body? In your relationship with your parents? In your identity as a man or woman? In your frustrations about your job?

I think it's helpful here (borrowing from Dr. Henry Cloud) to distinguish between the pain of growth and pain that is just simply bad--the kind that screams at you: "GET OUT NOW." Pain can also helpfully point to underdeveloped or neglected parts of our lives.

For example, if you're feeling the pain of loneliness, this could point to a need to develop new friendships or nurture the ones you already have. Now is your chance to pay attention to what the pain in your life is telling you--whether it's, "Hey, maybe you should lay off the spicy Thai food" or "I would like to make new friends" or "It's time to leave this job. It's not going to get better."

For me, years of blithely confident good health gave way to panic when I started experiencing pain, discomfort, and, worst of all, tingling in my upper back and neck. I could barely stand to sit for the 8 hours a day required at my desk job. But although the symptoms (such as pain) were only then showing up, my guess is the underlying issue probably started a long, long time ago.

But it wasn't until pain showed up that I started paying attention.

[Note: Take care of your body. It is the only one you have.]

The Role of Fear

This is about more than just Instagram-fueled FOMO (fear of missing out). There's the fear of missing out on the important things we're meant to do in our lives, whatever they may be.

The fear of never writing that novel or screenplay. Of never making that film. Of never taking that risk to start our own business or apply for that dream job.

Recently, "adventure" has been a theme in my life, and I realized that adventure always involves risk of some kind. And where there is risk, there can be fear. However, the best kind of fear is not the crippling fear of making a mistake that keeps you from ever venturing out on that ledge. It's the kind of fear that pushes you to venture out in the first place.

Am I more afraid of screwing up or am I more afraid of never getting to do what it is I want to do? One kind of fear confines you to a tiny box in which you can almost guarantee you will never make a mistake. The other kind sends you out into the unknown where, yeah, I guess something terrible could happen, but also something wonderful.

Being confined to a tiny box of perfectionism is terrible.

The Role of Grief

When I started going to therapy a few years ago, I was unprepared for the intense waves of pain and grief that tore through me. I had so much unresolved pain over my parents' divorce (that happened when I was 13) and from feeling abandoned, unloved, and unwanted by both parents.

This is the kind of stuff that will make an appearance sooner or later if you leave it unattended. Unattended baggage is a dangerous thing. Given the right conditions, unresolved feelings won't just be a whisper in your subconscious ("You're not good enough," "You're a failure" ), rather they will start screaming for attention at the top of their lungs, forcing you to either pay attention or drown them out with busyness, distraction, addiction, etc.

Dealing with unresolved grief is pretty much the opposite of fun. But the consequences of not dealing with it can be even worse.

Now that we've discussed the roles of pain, fear, and grief, I've written some questions (I like questions) about different areas in life that you may or may not have grown up in. This is not meant to shame anyone or provide some arbitrary benchmark, but instead to say, "Hey, maybe you can work on this now before it gets too gnarly."

Mentally
Do you have your own personal definition of what it means to be mentally healthy? What does unhealthy look like?
Are you challenging yourself to grow intellectually?
Do you read books / watch movies / listen to podcasts that engage you intellectually or are you numbed out most of the time on junk?

Physically
How do you take care of your body and your health?
Do you eat your vegetables?
How much sleep are you getting?
Are you comfortable with your sexuality?
Do you recognize the physical boundaries between you and others and are you able to recognize when your boundaries have been violated or when you are violating the boundaries of others?

Emotionally
How do you deal with difficult emotions like fear, anger, jealousy, envy, shame?
How do you deal with pain, disappointment, and loss?
Do you know how to grieve?
Is there room in your life for joy and gratitude?

Spiritually
Are you angry with God? Are you angry with God and avoiding the issue?
If you go to church, why? If you don't, why?
How do you connect with God?
How do you connect with others in a spiritual community?
What does unconditional love feel like?

Relationally
Do you cultivate and nurture your friendships?
How do you deal with loneliness?
Do you feel comfortable asking for help?
How's your support system?
Are you an adult or a child in your relationship with your father? Mother? Siblings? Significant other?

Financially
Do you pay your own bills?
Are you spending less than you make?
How's debt treating you?
Are you saving for retirement? (ugh)
Do you give to people, causes, organizations, stories that you care about?

Vocationally
If you hate your job, are you doing something about it?
If you're not making enough money, are you doing something about it? (like asking for a raise)
What are you good at?
Are you pursuing your dreams or someone else's?
How do you deal with failure, mistakes, setbacks?
If you have a day job, are you honoring it by showing up on time, working when you're at work, etc.?
Do you have career goals? Do you have a realistic timeline for those goals?
What do you want to be when you grow up?

Like a Kick in the Ass

Welcome! Do you need need some slightly violent motivation? You've come to the right place! Tis the season for a kick in the butt.

Is there a novel you've always wanted to write? An exercise regimen you've been meaning to start? A guy or girl you've had your eye on for a few weeks (years) now?

There are only three rules here: 

No shame
No blame
No excuses

In my opinion, a kick in the ass has nothing to do with exposing your character flaws or blaming you for not meeting your goals. Besides, shame is a terrible motivator! No, this is about giving you the right push in the right direction so you can take action. You can do it!

As for "no excuses," there will be no, "The economy is terrible right now" or "You're right, there really are no Ryan Gosling lookalikes out there who can change a tire, read Dostoyevsky and make a mean peanut butter chocolate cheesecake (at the same time)." 

In sum, the time for sympathy has passed. The time for ass-kicking has arrived. 

You hate your job:

No! Stop updating your LinkedIn profile!! Go out there and actually APPLY for a JOB. It doesn't have to be your dream job. It just has to be a job. Better yet, contact someone you know and ask them if they've heard of any openings (More effective than applying to some random job on craigslist and an excuse to reach out to an old friend. It's a win/win).

You're getting paid less than you deserve:

Ask for a raise. Write out, point by point, why you deserve a raise--not why you need a raise (to pay for that Sock Panda subscription), but why you are such a stellar employee and how you've contributed to the health and well-being of your company.

You want to start eating healthier: 

Put down that donut! Kidding. I love donuts. I've got nothing for you. Sorry. You're on your own with this one. 

You like someone but haven't asked them out: 

Ask them out. What do you have to lose other than your dignity, your self-respect, and every last shred of fear that's holding you back? That's right. Show that fear who's boss. 

You're in an abusive relationship...with facebook: 

You deserve better. Anything or anyone that demands that much of your time but gives so little back deserves to be cut out of your life. Or at least limited. 

You haven't signed up for health insurance yet: 

DAMMIT! SIGN UP FOR HEALTH INSURANCE!

You call yourself a filmmaker but haven't actually made a film at any point in the recent past: 

*crickets*

None of these apply to you? 

Here's a trick. Think of someone you know who really needs a kick in the ass. Write out what you would say to them if you were really being honest. Now read it back and apply it to yourself. [It's called projection. I know this because I'm in therapy.]

Or, think of yourself 1, 2, 5 years ago. Think about what you needed to hear at the time. Write it down. Apply it to your current situation. 

Or, even better, write a letter to yourself from the future (no shame, no blame, no excuses). Send it. 

You're welcome. 

Hey Ladies -- Ask For More Than What You Want [Especially When It Comes to Money]

Hey ladies [that sounds condescending but there are no sufficient alternative word choices], ask for more than what you want. Especially when it comes to money.

I know money is this weird, awkward thing that makes you uncomfortable (or is that just me?), but learning to ask for a fair rate will help you avoid other weird, awkward conversations in the future, like the one where you're sobbing on the phone to your mom that your coworker (who does the exact same job you do) is making escargot to your beans on toast.

Scenario #1 - Sophomore year of college, I'm applying to a summer program in LA called Act One. I apply for a summer grant through my college to pay for the program. Max awarded to each student is $5,000. I do the math and ask for $3,850. Why? Because I'm stupid, that's why. Guess how much they gave me.

Scenario #2 - I'm offered a job as a production coordinator on a music video. The producer offers me a weekly rate of $400 over the phone. My response: "Cool, that sounds great." Well, actually, that was his starting offer. But instead of negotiating, I accepted the first number I heard. Guess how much I got paid.

Moral of the story: ask for more money. In fact, go ahead and ask for more than what you tell yourself you would be happy with.

In fact, you can use the handy 30% rule that I just made up. Take a second and think about what you want. Then ask for 30% more than the number that just popped into your head. 

Let's put this into practice.

Say you want a raise. You currently make $10 per hour. You feel you would be happy making $13 per hour. Ask for $17.

Say you are raising money on Kickstarter to make a short film. You estimate the budget as $5,000. Ask for $6,500.

Say you apply for a temporary gig as a dog walker and are offered a flat weekly rate of $300. Ask for $390, then let them bargain you down.

Now there's a good point--you can always accept less than what you initially ask for. However, it's difficult to roll back time and ask for more.

Reasons we don't ask for more than what we want:

1 - Avoiding disappointment

Manage your expectations. Don't let your expectations manage you. Yes, they might say no. But what are you going to do if that happens? Implode? Doubtful.

2 - Scarce resources

There's not enough to go around as it is, and you don't want to steal food off of Bob's table. But don't worry about Bob. Bob's table is Bob's table. Your table is your table and which would you rather have, slow-cooked pot roast or meat from a can?

3 - I don't deserve more

I know there's been much talk lately about millennials and something called "entitlement," but in my limited experience, women tend to sell themselves short, both in terms of ambition (give me this much money) and their own abilities (you should hire me because...).

4 - Fear of being "not nice"

Money-grubbing, demanding, difficult to work with--insert your own unsavory adjective here. There's nothing wrong with asking nicely. In fact, I recommend it. But ask. Do it.

You could even take this a step further and apply it to your personal relationships.

A guy asks you to hang out with him and his buddies, but you really want to go on a date.

"Hey [random dude's name]. I appreciate that you asked me to hang out, but I really want to hang out with someone 30% hotter than you."

Or

"Hey, I think you're great and I really want you to ask me out on a date."

Or 

"Would you like to go out sometime?"

Now go -- share this blog post on your facebook wall. 

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you."

Millenials, Entitlement, and Happiness

So, this article came out and people are linking to it and responding to it and I thought I would throw some of my thoughts out there into the mix as an early (late?) millennial who has thoughts, dammit, and wants those thoughts to be heard [I do have a blog, after all. I am Generation Y. Hear me make tentative suggestions via an impersonal platform]. 

Thirst for Adventure

I am a millennial. Sometimes, I confuse adventure with happiness. Whether it's studying abroad, backpacking through Asia, snowboarding the alps, going to Burning Man, eating an endangered species of fire ant, being homeless for a month, or hitchhiking through the Sahara desert, I want to do it all--right now. (Maybe I can raise the funds for my backpacking trip through Kickstarter? Hmm.)

There's this restlessness inside me that refuses to be quenched unless I'm saving orphans in Papua New Guinea while simultaneously inventing a new system of water filtration and launching the latest and greatest app for the iphone. 

I just feel like I'm in stasis, you know. 

I've got it! I'm going to move to LA and pursue a career in filmmaking.

Unnecessary Suffering

Okay. I have a college degree and a background best described as "middle class." I have a few resources (see also "Mommy & Daddy" below).

But, since I'm following my dreams and chasing adventure, I'm living well below the poverty line, subsisting on food stamps (but still eating organic!), sharing an apartment with at least 5 other dudes, and missing one or two student loan payments. 

I work in food service, which I hate, but hey, at least the hours are flexible so I can intern at the record label two days a week. Half the people there don't even refer to me by name (I'm "that weird intern"), but at least I'm pursuing what I love. 

I don't have a car and that sucks, but I think riding the bus is giving me some really good ideas for this screenplay I'm writing about a young person who moves to the big city and meets this homeless man who gives him tons of great advice about how life is about more than just material possessions.

Underemployed and Loving It

Heck, I have so much free time between jobs, I'm writing at least two pilots right now, which I hope to pitch at the monthly networking event I go to (free drinks!). 

I'm thinking about taking an acting class so I can become a better director. I know it's pricey, but if I up my hours at the Cheesecake Factory I should be able to afford it. 

You know who I saw at a party the other day? Ryan Gosling's younger brother, Joe. I wonder if he would be interested in my script about flesh eating slugs who turn out to be harmless, peace-loving aliens with a mission to turn the whole universe vegan.

Mommy & Daddy

I'm not proud about it, but every so often my parents put money in my bank account when I'm not looking. 

I just know that they believe in me and they believe in my dreams as much as I believe in me and my dreams. 

Thanks, Mom & Dad. 

Don't Quit Your Day Job

I work in a book warehouse packing books. Boxes upon boxes of used books arrive at the warehouse every day and are sorted into two piles: keep and throw away. 

One co-worker refers to them as "boxes of broken dreams":

Becoming a Successful, Working, 'Yes, This is What I Do to Pay My Bills' Actor.

Move Out of Your Parent's Basement: A Spiritual Guide

You Too Can Get That Impossibly Beautiful Woman Who is Way Out of Your League to Have Sex With You

Sell Your Screenplay in Five Easy Steps

Every self-help book starts sounding like it's directly judging my life choices: 

If You Have a College Degree And Are As Smart as Your Kindergarten Teacher Said You Were, Why are You Working for Minimum Wage In A Warehouse With No AC During the Summer?

And

What Are You Doing With Your Life? What Would Your College Alumni Magazine Think of You Now?

And 

You Are a Failure

Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Do not have health insurance. Do not have a good answer when people ask, "What do you do?"

Keep or throw away. Keep or throw away.

Follow Your Dreams

I am a millennial 20 years later. No one writes articles about me anymore. Now, there is a new generation to pick on (I hope they give them a stupid name too. Like "perennials.")

My life has exceeded my expectations, but not in the ways I thought it would. 

I'm still pursuing my dreams--but those dreams have changed or morphed into something new. I know how lucky I am to have these dreams and to have the freedom to pursue them. 

I am happy.

Why is Church Cliquey?

Why is church cliquey? I suppose I have a few theories about this--and I'm not just talking about my own church--reports have come in from far and wide about the cliquey nature of church, primarily from people my own age. Specifically, what makes the church foyer such an awkward place for new people? Why does it seem difficult to "break in"--to a conversation, a circle, a tight-knit social group?

Some theories: 

Theory 1: We respect your right to disengage more than we value your desire to be engaged.

Theory 2: The rise of irony makes it difficult to express sincere, unabashed interest in something or someone.

Theory 3: Church is "home" and we want to talk to our "family." 

Theory 4: Church is a series of loosely connected social circles. Maybe you're new, or maybe you just belong to one of the other social circles. Either way, I don't know you and I probably won't talk to you unless our circles intersect.

Theory 5: In LA especially, it seems like everyone wants something from you--sex, a date, a pitch meeting, a job, the secret of how you got your hair to do that crazy poof thing. Or they don't, in which case, why are they talking to you again?

What does the opposite of cliquey look like? I'm not sure, but I can hazard a guess, or rather, an experience: Black churches. I can remember going to one or several with family when we were visiting from out-of-state. To say that we were welcomed with open arms (literally) would be an understatement. We were "loved on." Hugged. Called "sister" or "brother."

My own history with church cliqueness is complicated. I was the awkward kid at the church party. Scratch that, I still am the awkward kid at the church party. 

When I was 9 and attending grade school in China, of course I didn't fit in. I was American, a foreigner, a lao wai. When I was 12 and started going to my international church's youth group, of course I didn't fit in. Most of the kids were older and "cooler." When I was 15 and we moved back to the states and I started going to youth group there, of course I didn't fit in. I was still reeling from the move and my parents' divorce, still adjusting to a new (old) country.

Whatever it is that makes fitting into social groups effortless (or at least non-awkward) never clicked for me.

I've blamed other people. I've blamed church for being cliquey, when the only thing I had to blame was my own lack of social skills. Blessed are the awkward, for they shall inherit all of the spinach dip.

"[T]he foreigner excludes before being excluded, even more than [s]he is being excluded."

-Kristeva

I'm not claiming that church is not cliquey. I'm not claiming that people aren't excluded, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

If you think that church is cliquey, if you feel excluded, judged, put down, ignored, insignificant--I'm sorry. If you've stopped going to church because you feel like you don't fit in--I'm sorry too. But one thing I've learned is that as much as I try, I can't separate my relationship with God from my relationship with other people. I can't love God and hate his church. I can't pursue God and cut off my brother, my sister. I can't harbor resentment and bitterness in my heart and claim that it's all okay, because God and I are okay.

I'm not saying you should attend a church that spiritually abuses you. I'm not saying you need to reconcile with those who excluded or ignored you. I'm not saying you need to agree with everything a church teaches. I'm saying, in a deeper sense, there is no in-crowd.

Whatever the point of hurt is, whatever the wound--it matters to God. For me, that would be feeling like the church doesn't care about my gifts and talents. It might be different for you. But don't give up. Be awkward. But don't be a stranger.

I attended a church-related holiday function alone recently, and as I told my friends, "I'm worried it will be awkward." The party promised to feature such cringe-worthy activities as "singing Christmas carols" and "eating white chocolate popcorn." But, impending awkwardness be damned, I went anyway, fruit tart in hand. And guess what? I was the awkward one (I know. I was surprised too).

I got there, promptly ignored the host when he introduced himself to me, in my nervousness drank large quantities of what turned out to be not-ice-tea, and generally faux-pas-ed it up in admirable fashion. And I had a great time. People went out of their way to make me feel welcome. When asked by one guy I had just met how I knew the people at the party, I replied, "I don't really know anyone here."

He said, "You know me."




Want more?

Why is church cliquey? Part 2
Why is church cliquey? Part 3
Why is church cliquey? Part 4
Why is church cliquey? Part 5

Nihilism, Ambition, and Minor Revelations

I recently spent some time at my mom's house going through all my stuff in the garage. In the process, I had a few minor revelations--let's call them "Thoughts upon going through all my crap."

Minor Revelation #1 - Taking Latin was unnecessary. As was taking trig, calculus, Bible Literature, European Civilization 1...

I've already mentioned my penchant for academic masochism. And I took a lot of classes. A lot. Like way, way more credits than I needed to take.

I don't regret any of the unnecessary classes I took though (actually, scratch that, I regret taking chemistry). There's something so hopeful about registering for a new semester. I miss that part of college. I miss learning for the sake of learning.

Now explain to me why I kept all of my trig homework...

Minor Revelation #2 - I spent a lot time researching things.

I don't even want to talk about how much time I spent researching what college to go to, leafing through those glossy brochures with pictures of attractive undergraduates spread out like lawn ornaments. I think the hypotheticals themselves were compelling. It's fun to dream about the future. However, my life has been a lot of theory, not as much action. The research has to end eventually. Right? Eventually, you have to make a choice. Choose a college. A career. A city.

It's no coincidence that one of my resolutions for 2012 was to "Think less."

Minor Revelation #2.5 - The direct correlation between my attachement to an object and my affection for the person or experience with whom/which the object is associated

Minor Revelation #3 - I wrote/write a lot. A lot.

I mean, dear God, if there was a margin to be spared on an index card, pamphlet, or receipt, I wrote in that margin, dammit. I scribbled down shreds of profundity and banality--okay, mostly banality.

I guess this isn't much of a revelation. I write. It's what I do. Now, if only I had confined my writing to logical places, like journals and notebooks. Sometimes you just need something to write on.

Minor Revelation #4 - If there was something I was even remotely interested in, I went after it 100%.

I was extremely ambitious in my teens (not that my work ethic always cooperated). Where any rational, sane person might have been like, "Hey, maybe flying to Tahiti to build an ice cream factory isn't such a good idea," I was like, "Sign me up!" I had quite a few terrible ideas. Thankfully, not all the things I pursued panned out.

Sometimes it's not the thing itself (say, video production) that's the misdirection. Sometimes, you are simply incompatible with the people or the organization. I hate to say it, but you really do have to be in the right place at the right time. Perhaps the world is not yet ready for your genius. Or more likely, you still have some growing up to do. Right place. Right time. Right person (that would be you).

There I go, giving advice again. I need to write about another career myth--the myth of experience, or how do you figure out what you want to do when you grow up? I'll tell ya what you don't do--base your entire career on a single negative or positive experience.

Again, I don't regret being overly, scarily ambitious during my high school years. I did a lot of worthwhile things, however,

Minor Revelation #5 - Everything is meaningless.

"Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done

    and what I had toiled to achieve,

everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;

    nothing was gained under the sun."

[Ecc. 2:11]

Sifting through years worth of stuff--keeping the best of it and tossing the rest--I was reminded of Ecclesiastes' famous existentialism.

I spent a lot of time thinking and/or worrying about things that I could not care less about now (I'm looking at you, Homeschooling).

Likewise, things that seem to matter now probably won't matter at all at some future date. We can all relate to the thought that "everything is meaningless, a chasing after the wind." Pleasure. Wisdom. Accomplishments. Great hair. The perfect body.

People. I believe that people matter. And despite the meaninglessness of accomplishments, I still feel compelled to offer something to the world, however small, insignificant and temporal.

I still have to figure out how to live this life.