I like blue

I had a dream about this girl that I like, the other night...

"It's very quiet here." She said to me. My eyes were drawn to hers, and I could see the waves that whispered beside us reflected in them. During the day that place was warm, and the white sand of the beach had reflected the sun onto all the energetic faces that abounded, and laughter they all shared, but the sand, that evening, forgot, or simply did not speak of it. It was cool beneath my feet and in between my toes. Every sight, sound, and even the smell of the ocean asked me to breathe a little more slowly, and hold less in my mind. Everything asked that I not reminisce on the day, but simply be in that late evening where sunlight mixed with the many other stars and the sky shone many quiet blues. We slowly rocked, she and I, in that hammock with our feet off the edge in the sand, and a cool breeze pushed her closer to me. Her hand on the back of mine pulled me finally out of my own thoughts, and there I was, simply with her. I don't know that there were words; I like to imagine there weren't. We sat and spoke for hours without a sound, and the sky, sharing its shades with the water, never darkened to hide the last faint oranges of the sun that wished to bid us goodnight. Likely you'll think it to be because this was simply a dream, but as I imagined our words were spoken in silence, I imagine the sun was merely acting to acquiesce my desire that her smile and kind eyes not be hidden from me. "I like blue." I said quietly, finally, to her. 

You won't rattle my cage

In roughly one year and 7 months, I will be a licensed paramedic. In 13 weeks and one day, I will be sitting for the NREMT to be licensed as an EMT. I've become abreast of many of the things I will encounter while working a rig between class time, a convenient database of trauma pictures provided in said class, and a couple ambulance ride-alongs I've taken part in. I've yet, however, to encounter anything terrible first hand. 

I'm told by paramedics and EMT's that I know that watching "true stories" of the ER, looking at trauma pictures, or even spending time in an emergency room will hardly be sufficient to prepare for what I'll encounter on the job. According to them, there really is not preparation for the dive. There's only the dive. 

How, then, am I to be expected to know if what the hell I'm doing is right? How the hell am I expected to know if I will be able to function in triage during a multi-casualty event? How can I even know if I'll be able to keep cool while trying to simply place an IV in the back of an ambulance? 

Well...I can't. Moving forward isn't about knowing success is assured. It's about hoping there's a chance that success will happen to meander out of the forest and into a vulnerable place in the meadow (yes, I am referencing Bambi) where I will then capture it by force by whatever means I may have. 

I just started working at Caribou Coffee again after four years away. I'll tell you, there are few better gauges of growth than going back to work at a job you haven't held for four years. In 2011, a line out the door and a screen full of drinks would send me into a tailspin of stress that would keep me down for the rest of the day. Yesterday I worked the floor with one other man during a buy-one-get-one deal, and deals such as that happen to be the dreaded "white girl's" natural prey, and they came in droves. I, circa 2011, would have locked up, stared at the screen, and said seldom a word to customers riding the carousel from the door to me to the drink counter. I, circa yesterday, did not act in this way. I locked eyes with everyone, held an un-trembling voice, and treated each customer with kindness and without a frantic tone, as though there was not, in fact, a line out the door. 

Call me outlandish and stupid, but I see my little coffee shop as a somewhat comparable paradigm to working a rig. The stress and emotional torment of losing a patient, or having a family screaming at me for not resuscitating a DNR patient will most definitely be deeper seated than a suburban mom screaming at me for giving her white chocolate instead of dark. This is not my point. My point is that, in each situation, there is a relatively large amount of stress, and in each situation there is a limit to the speed at which I can work - a limit to the control in my hands. 

To lay my purpose bare, identify your limitations, and do not delude yourself into beliefs of grandeur. Knowing your TRUE limits (not the limits you merely impose on yourself out of laziness) does not equip you to blast through them heroically, but rather, equips you to work within them, and to not let your cage be rattled when confronted by them or berated for them. 

Please do not misunderstand - I am not advocating simple acceptance of your present state as your eternal state of being. Work to push out your limits. Become faster and stronger, able to focus more and procrastinate less. Work on these things as continual growth and learning, but accept where you are right now as being your current reality. Do not anguish for that, over which, you have no control...sit with it. I promise you will be ok. 

Berate and belittle me, say all that you can

You think me too weak, tell me I am not a man

Your words fall on deaf ears, I've no time for what you say

I know when to sweat and bleed, and I know when to call it a day

I'll not lie to myself, or attempt to impress you

There's little point in pretending to convince so few

I don't give a damn for your opinion, as you try to drive me to rage

I sincerely don't care what you think, you will not rattle my cage

My contention with Christianity

I was raised Christian. For a long time, I believed in the Christian faith. My faith came to a grinding halt one summer when I was working at an unnamed Bible camp, during a week when we had 5th graders. A counselor came into the office, and asked the camp director "one of my campers wants to know if he'll go to Hell if he doesn't accept Jesus, what should I tell him?" The camp director took just a couple seconds to think before replying "tell him he'll go to Hell." A 5th grader; 10 years old. Our director wanted the counselor to tell that kid he was going to go to Hell.

I am now no longer a Christian, and I highly doubt I will ever be again, but there are many Christians whom I respect deeply, and with whom I can speak about just about anything without judgement. Some of these Christians a scholars, others are pastors, others are both, and they all have two things in common: 1. they are exceedingly more educated in Biblical studies than, literally, any one else I have met, and 2. each of them believes everyone is universally saved by Christ's sacrifice.

I hold no ill will towards most who hold firmly to their faith, but the very instance a level of exclusivity is claimed but for the utterance of a superficial four word phrase, I hold a severe point of contention.

Yes, the Bible says "if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, then you will be saved," but it fails to say "if you don't, you're going to hell." There is, however, numerous other scripture professing the universal saving of humanity. I've highlighted every word that includes "everyone" in blue, and I've highlighted every word that writes in an exception to salvation in yellow.

Matthew 18:13 - Like the man who owes a hundred sheep and is not willing to lose even one, God is not willing that any be lost.

Luke 3: 5-6 Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth. And all people will see God's salvation.

John 1:29 The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, "Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!"

John 3:35 - The Father loves the Son and has placed everything in his hands.

John 12:32 - And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself

John 12:47 - If anyone hears my words but does not keep them, I do not judge that person. For I did not come to judge the world, but to save the world.

John 17:2 - For you granted him authority over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him

Romans 5:18 Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people

Romans 8:38-39 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord


There are, in fact, other verses that speak of some level of exclusivity - some in Matthew and Mark, but for God's sake, when given the choice, why not just opt for love? What the hell do you get out of telling people they're not going to get into heaven, or they'll only get into heaven if they do such and such?

I digress.

Please stop saying "you'll feel differently when you're older."

I was born in 1991. I am 24 years, 3 months, and 26 days, and in that time, I have learned a great deal about myself. I know my dreams and desires. I know my strengths and weaknesses. I know what I love, and what I do not. I know whether or not I want to be a father someday; I do not.

I am not an old man by any stretch, but I feel that most, by my age, have a rough idea what they want their future to look like - the American dream of a split level home that shares a large back lot with an adjacent home that houses an unhappy wife who likes to sun-bathe topless and shoot bedroom eyes across they way while you grill with your "world's best dad" apron, and you manage to avert your gaze for you are a holy and cannot be tempted by her curves.

I paint this picture facetiously, but my point is clear - I have a clear picture of my future and what I want out of life, and children are nowhere in it. I have a diverse set of reasoning ranging from mental illness that I do not wish to pass on, to a desire to enjoy the world and its offerings with my wife, unencumbered by potty breaks and sticky car doors, to the mere fact that there are too many people on this planet as is, and if I were to ever decide I have a need for a tiny loud roommate who eats all my food doesn't pay rent and takes all my wife's attention, I would adopt the little bugger.

Often I am met with the rebuttal "you're only 24, you're not supposed to want kids yet." Actually, yeah, I am. Other men and women my age may not want kids AT my age, but they sure as hell know whether or not they eventually want them...and I don't.

So please, for me, and for the sake of everyone else who is genuinely sick of hearing it, quit saying "you'll change your mind," quit asking for us to support WHY we don't want kids, and quit trying to fit us into your perception of the world wherein everyone is pre-programmed with a permanent and resolute paternal/maternal instinct. Seriously...just stop.

Writing the book of your own morality

-Please do not misunderstand - this is a work of reflection and comment. I am advocating believing how you want to believe, and doing right by yourself, but the very instant you attempt to act against others' rights of privacy, equality, safety, and mental well-being, you are simply in the wrong.-

-Also, I'm too tired to spell and grammar check, so if you run into a grammatical error, pretend you didn't-

I felt a lot of guilt in church, growing up. I was beset by the years upon years of Sunday services that I would have to attend in order to be a good enough Christian. I was fearful that God would know that I was not truly happy to be spending my Sunday's in service.

My mother is an educated woman. She got a master's degree in something to the effect of "biblical studies." This is a dangerous person who gets a master's degree for the hell of it, and this is an exponentially dangerous person when being informed that her son no longer identifies as a Christian. Many of my friends are Christians - and die hard ones at that. They, by and large, endeavor to be deeply moral people, and endeavor to avoid things of ilk of Satan and his many hurtful shenanigans. They still choose, however, to be friends with me, and accept my many less-than-above-board-shenanigans.

For a long time, I felt as though I was broken, somehow. I felt as though I was lacking a code - a creed spelled out by many generations before my own existence was even a thought. I was lacking the wisdom of centuries that those who abided by such schools of thought as Christianity, Judaism, or Islam. These people, with whom I was, and am, quite close, held guilt for doing things that I wouldn't lose a moment of sleep for, and I felt lesser for it. Consuming alcohol, having sex, choosing to return a rude service provided to me, etc. I felt guilt for all of these things, but only because I thought that it was necessary and proper to feel guilt for them. I wanted to appear pious, humble, convicted.

I've changed my mind. I am no longer driven by feelings of guilt, or a black and white morality. Living with a set of morals that doesn't grow and change with you, that is not dynamic as the human soul, is a cumbersome thing that does not work for me. I believe in a god, and I believe I may have been designed by him. I believe that, if this is the case, I have been equipped with the ability to write the book of my own morality. I know my values, and to preserve them is to do right by myself. I will draw on many creeds and many words spoken by people smarter than myself in the pursuit of a happier life, but above all else, my values must remain paramount.

I likely sound narcissistic, arrogant, myopic, and any other words you might think of to describe my current school of thought, but what I am arguing for myself is something I would argue that everyone do. Evaluate the rules you were raised by. Evaluate the Apostle's Creed, the Ten Commandments, the Shahada, the thirteen principles of faith. Juxtapose them with your values, and decide if you are doing right by yourself. Believe what you will believe, and let others enjoy the same liberty. Be willing to let yourself learn and move, and not stand stagnant.

Home is no longer "where," but "who."

I wrote recently about the changes the have befallen me of late. Changes in how I socialize, and how I move along through my life. I've discovered another one, and it's the idea of "home."

Freshman year, I spent a great deal of my time secluded to my dorm room, avoiding most every soul that could have potentially called me "friend." I would text my girlfriend of the time, and I would watch cable on my 32" Zenith that was older than I was at the time. During this time "home" was my parents' house. I had not yet given a chance to college, and I had not yet found my new family members.

Sophomore year is when I knew River Falls as home. My parents' house was just that - my parents' house. It was nice to visit, but I was always just passing through, even on the stints that lasted months. I had friends in the nearby Falls to stay with, and I had a couple long stays in Japan, which was also home for a little while.

I am now graduated, my lease is up in three weeks, there is no space in my parents' house for me, and I officially have nowhere to go. I have no home to speak of; at least not in the capacity of a citadel wherein I find refuge from the torrent of the workweek and the weather. I'm now going to define home, not as a place, but as something wherein comfort is found. I'm now going to define home as a body of people. Those, with whom, I find it easy to breathe, and for whom I return that feeling of peace and safety.

Am I on the verge of being a nomad? You bet your ass. Am I on the verge of being without a home? Absolutely not.

Well damn

Two cars, $65,000, three girlfriends, three break ups, two apartments, two dorms, countless meals comprised of mediocre cafeteria fare, hundreds of dances, several road trips, and a couple hang overs. These are the items, among others unmentioned, that comprise the last six years of of my life, five of them enrolled at the University of Wisconsin River Falls.

In all my time in school, and now graduated, I'd thought myself as having gained some modicum of wisdom and direction with my life. It turns out, though, that post-grad life is the exact same as student life, only with the absence of forced mental laboring. I was recently beset by this realization, to which my internal (and outward) response was "...well damn." Now, in this life of a 40 hour work week, and expectations to attend family functions that previously found conflict with "homework," mental atrophy is actually something of a concern, and I seek out challenges to keep myself sharp. In class, things like this would be called "an essay worth 50 percent of your grade." Now a more apt title would be "a blog to tell the world about your mental anguish so that you don't go on an acetaminophen-fueled rampage through Walmart to find something to buy, be unhappy with, and subsequently return to the customer service desk while I bitch about my mental anguish."

I figured that by the time my diploma came in the mail, I'd have a 5, 10, 20 year, and retirement plans...but that is not the case. According to my current sample size (which is about a month), adulthood is not really a state of driving towards solid goals as childhood was. In 5th grade, all I wanted was to be in middle school. In 8th grade, all I wanted was to get to the high school. During my senior year of high school, all I wanted was to get into college. In college, my goals were to make it to each subsequent academic year with more friends, better health, and a higher GPA. My senior year of college, I wanted to get into a career track and be on a path to buy a house. I am, currently, amidst the latter stage, but I am not the myopic youth I once was. I can see past purchasing my house within the next couple years, and I can hear this voice in my head asking, in a vexing voice "...what then?" I have no answer. Kids? No, I don't want those. Buy a dog? Maybe eventually, but that's hardly a life goal. Hobbies? Vacations? Spending time with my friends? Again, those are not goals; those are existential and experiential things.

And there it is. Existence. Experience. Adulthood is not all about "what's next?" Adulthood is about "what's now?" I no longer spend my time focused on a goal, and in lieu of reminiscing, I spend my time creating the stuff of reminiscence.

I suppose I am sad for past years somewhat wished away, but I am thrilled for the experiences that I had therein, and I am thrilled for today.