The Rule of 5

I have a problem.

I suspect it's a problem that a lot of us share.

I have a hard time keeping a clean house.

I could give a million reasons (excuses) for this.  I have a full time job.  I'm trying to crack a secondary income stream.  I want to spend time with my wife.  I have a 2 year old.  And so on and so on and so on.

Ultimately, my reasons, whether legitimate or not, don't solve me problem.

Instead, I watch a mess develop.  I get stressed about the mess.  And when I can't take it anymore, I burn an entire day off cleaning the house... and lose more time with my family in the process.

But I'm not going to complain about this.  I'm going to present a solution that my family has implemented.  Perhaps it will also work for yours.

We call it "The Rule of 5."

Quite simply, every time we do something in the house, we address 5 issues* located in the room we just used.

Grabbed a pair of socks from the dresser?  Pick up 5 items in the bedroom.  Maybe that means picking up 5 things the 2 year old threw on the floor.  Maybe it means moving 5 unused hangars back to the laundry room for later use.  Maybe a combination of different things?

Turned on the TV in the living room?  Pick up 5 items in there.  Or wipe down 5 surfaces.  Whatever works.

Pretty simple, right?

The ultimate result?  A house that is not only cleaned up without burning an entire day, but a house that stays well maintained, eliminating the need for "cleaning days" in the first place.

Give it a try.  See if it works for you.

Regards,
 - Chris

*There are 2 qualifiers we've added in to make sure we don't lose momentum on high traffic rooms.

1) Once a room is cleaned, we're not off the hook for our 5.  Our 5 just spreads into other room until the whole house is clean and maintained.

2) We're big kitchen people.  Love to cook.  As such, the kitchen rule of 5 is PER ITEM USED.

Making scrambled eggs?  At the minimum, that would require 1 egg, 1 pan, 1 spatula, and some butter.  That's 4 items used - so by extension, 20 items would need to be addressed at the bare minimum.  Making 2 eggs instead of 1?  Add 5 more.  Seasoning those eggs?  5 per seasoning, my friend.

Evil Dead is ALIVE! ALIVE!

We all know that The Evil Dead is a wonderfully inane cult series.  But the resurgence of the franchise with the new Evil Dead brought me back to the originals and has had me thinking about the entire quartet (quad-ril-ogy?).  I’ll be the first to admit that a lot of my thoughts are guilty of comparing Evil Dead 2013 to its predecessors, but that’s fair, right?  After all, that’s a certain responsibility of a remake to expand upon, while still honoring, the source material.

After much deliberation, I find myself with 5 main thoughts on the Evil Dead series.  Some of these contain SPOILERS – so be forewarned. 

AND DO NOT TOUCH THE NECRONOMICON WITHOUT SAYING THE THREE WORDS!

5) The soul count in Evil Dead 2013

There are 6 available characters in the new movie: Mia, David, Natalie, Olivia, Eric, and Grandpa (the dog).  The book tells of 5 souls that have to be taken in order to unleash the big bad.

Mia’s soul is taken first.  Then Olivia.  Followed by Natalie and Eric.

Where’s #5?

Presumably, that honor belongs to David.  But did the Deadites really take his soul?  For a wannabe Ash, he went out in a decidedly un-Ash-y and distinctly burned-to-ashes fashion.  Does that even count as a soul grab?  I figured that was counted on the stats more like an RBI or an assist…

But assuming David is the fifth soul, this leaves some disturbing implications.  Namely that despite saving Mia from the grip of the Deadites, she no longer has a soul.  If saving her from possession restored her soul, that make the count “four souls and an appetizer that the waiter spit in,” rather than “five souls, one cooked well.”

So if Mia has no soul, it defeats the purpose of not-Ash’s self-sacrifice.  If she got her soul back, who is #5 now?! 

The dog?  That’s a pretty bold implication to throw at the religious type.

The girl from the otherwise completely irrelevant intro scene?  That means there’s no reset button on the Necronomicon.  And if that’s the case, well… MOST. SLACKER. BOOK. EVER.  It’s a few thousand years old and only now collected its five souls?  It took less time to gather all 150 original Pokemon!

4) Eric is actually a savant

Hire him immediately, dusty old librarian-professors looking for translators!

This 20-something kid is completely fluent in ancient Sumerian without any sort of reference material to consult.  Also, he has perfect pronunciation of a completely dead language.  He’s like Rosetta Stone and Rainman had a baby with a hairstyle straight out of Woodstock.

Seriously.

Hire him.

3) Most of the characters in Evil Dead 2013 deserved to die

The Evil Dead was about 5 twenty-somethings on their way to a vacation to a cabin in the woods.  They were college students.  They were wholesome kids.  One was a dedicated S-Mart employee with a glorious chin.  They just stumbled into a bad situation and were horribly murdered by fun-loving Deadites craving some soul-power.  Their only major flaw was that Scotty was an asshole.

The new bunch of demon-fodder had no such distinction.  In fact, they all had character flaws that serve as death sentences in horror movies.

Mia was a drug addict.

David abandoned his family in their time of need.

Olivia saw nothing questionable in her decision to actively keep Mia away from a hospital just because she wanted to play the hero and take the glory by medicating her friend.  Her status as a nurse makes their even more questionable, as she should have had the foresight to realize that “hey, this failed before… maybe we should involve professionals this time around.”

Eric set the whole chain of events into motion with his damnable curiosity and built-in universal translator.  When a book is wrapped in trash bags and barbed wire you leave it alone!  It is not a happy book!

Natalie had a poor choice in friends.  Pretty, albeit dumb, little blonde decides hanging out in an abandoned cabin with the makings of real-world Legion of Doom is a good idea?

The only one who didn’t deserve a hammer to the face on principle was the dog.  And he’s the only one who got that exact treatment!

2) Speaking of barbed wire, what was with the barbed wire?  And the cats?

We’re introduced to a random witch woman and her team of Fallout face-lift friends in the film’s intro.  They set an elaborate trap to contain a Deadite with every bit of voodoo they could muster.

Candles.  A funeral pyre that inexplicably did not burn down the entire cabin.  A posse of largely unnecessary observers.  A shitload of dead cats.

They proceed to use their shrine to animal cruelty to banish the Deadite and save the day.

Then they proceed to leave the book out in the open on a table where anyone can find it.

This is almost as bad as leaving a loaded shotgun in a baby’s crib.  Someone’s going to find it, and it’s not going to end well.  But it’s okay, the old lady wrapped the book in trash bags.  And barbed wire.  Surely, that wouldn’t strike anyone as peculiar.  Certainly not peculiar enough to take a look.

And the cats… nowhere in Eric’s translation of the Necronomicon did it reference flaying the Humane Society’s entire supply of cats.

If you ask me, the cats had nothing to do with stopping the Deadites.

The voodoo lady was just making jerky.

1)      Evil Dead II and Army of Darkness never happened.

I’m going to leave Evil Dead 2013 alone now and focus back on the original trilogy.  Whenever someone first sees the series, the same question always comes up.  Why did Evil Dead II play out like a remake and a sequel all at once?

The official answer is that Sam Raimi had a story in mind for all three films, but since another company owned the rights to the images from The Evil Dead, Sam had to dive in and quickly retell the story before he could move on.  In fact, the “proper” order of the films is supposed to be The Evil Dead immediately followed by the 2^nd half of Evil Dead II (minus the last 2-3 minutes), then Army of 

Darkness.

This is clearly not the case.  Because Evil Dead II and Army of Darkness never actually happened.

In The Evil Dead, Ash was a reluctant hero.  He was a quiet, respectful kid who hesitated when destiny required him to hold his chin up and shoot his friends.  In the other two films, he’s a loud-mouthed braggart who thinks little of blowing away his friends and cutting out his own hand with a chainsaw.  This is clearly not the same Ash.

And the key to his character development is all found in the final shot of The Evil Dead.  At the very end of the film, Ash is stumbling out of the cabin where he is attacked by a Deadite who promptly possesses him.  But Ash fights back, struggling to hold onto his soul.

As such, everything that happens next all takes place in Ash’s head and shows the internal struggle for Ash’s soul.  Consider how the story places out.

Ash replays the events in the cabin, but only with Linda.  His sister and other friends are mysteriously gone.  The Deadite is trying to isolate Ash while making him relive the painful experience of his girlfriend’s death by his hand.

The possession takes hold, represented by Ash’s evil hand.  But the real Ash reasserts himself, removing the hand and fighting back.

Two new people show up at the cabin and Ash is branded as the villain.  The Deadite begins to win the battle again as Ash questions himself, and now we see a Deadite Ash.

But again, Ash is grounded by his connection to life (specifically to Linda) and pushes the Deadite out again.

This goes back and forth until the end of the film until the Deadites manage to complete their goals to unleash their most powerful demon into the world.  We are led to believe that Ash opens a portal to trap the Deadite, but this is actually not the case.  What we are actually seeing is Ash’s final defeat.  

When the portal opens, it is not the Deadite who is defeated.  It’s Ash.  The portal sucking Ash in is a representation of Ash being sucked into Hell.

And Army of Darkness takes place entirely in Hell.

From there, the series goes into a “choose your own adventure” mode.

Depending on which ending you prefer, you decide Ash’s ultimate fate.

In the theatrical version, Ash makes it home and goes back to his life at S-Mart.  Though he is doomed to spend the rest of his life fighting off the occasional advances of the Deadites and their bid to swallow his soul, he lives.  And escapes from Hell.

If you prefer the director’s cut (in which Ash “oversleeps” and wakes up in an post-apocalyptic world), then you prefer the idea that Ash is condemned to Hell, never again to escape.  His soul is 

forfeit.

That’s actually kind of sad…

Little Victories - Day 15

I expanded on a previous victory today.

A while back, I posted about how I never take a full day off for myself.  Today, I took that concept a step further.

I took my time off today to fully absorb in a slower, more leisurely pace of life.

I woke up.  Tooled around the house a bit.  Got my hair cut.  Wandered a Best Buy and a Barnes and Noble completely aimlessly with no purpose other than browsing.  Met Bree for lunch at a local sandwich shop.  Got some ice cream.  Then, before I had to head out and be productive... I took a nap.

Me!  A nap!  Unheard of!

But you know what?  It was nice.  It was leisurely.  It didn't revolve around stressing to make money for someone or any semblance of responsibility whatsoever.

It's how we were meant to be.

350 more to go.

Little Victories - Day 14

I wrote today.

Not in a blogg-y way.  More in a fiction-y way.

It's been a while.

Ultimately, what I wrote was useless and garbage... and I wrote nevertheless.

Hopefully, a step toward making it more regular.

351 victories to go.

Little Victories - Day 13

I am a black hole for plastic food containers.  Bree and I are constantly looking for matching bowls and lids to store leftovers, sauces, etc... but we are never successful.

We can find a bottom piece.  Or we can find a top piece.  But they never seem to match.  And then we buy more.  And for a while, it's good.  But it all gets mixed into the old stuff and guess what happens.

We lose vital parts again.

The cycle is vicious and never-ending.  We've got two full boxes of plastic containers in the closet and a number of loose ones floating around.

At least... we did.

Today, we went to IKEA with a friend.  On that trip, we picked up a few packs of plastic containers, came home, and threw the old ones away.  Now, all we have are complete pairs.

Also, in a bonus little victory... I finally through away an old, tube-style TV Bree salvaged parts from. It had been sitting in the living room for months.  But as of today... NO MORE.  It's gone now.

Little victories.  352 to go and still going strong.

Little Victories - Days 10, 11, and 12

No.  I haven't given up on my New Year's Resolution.

In fact, not posting for 3 days fell into my little victories.

Allow me to explain.

DAY 10

I gave a friend a nudge in an uncomfortable, but ultimately good direction.

Don't want to say too much here, being an issue of a personal nature, but suffice to say, my friend was engulfed in relationshipial consumption (oh - does making up a word count as a victory?).

Again, without saying to much, I pushed him to confront his situation.  Sure, the endgame wasn't fantastic... but it needed to be done.

It was a good thing.

DAY 11

At the end of Day 10, I was exhausted.  Indeed, I didn't even get into bed until well past midnight.  A rarity these days, to be sure.  With my schedule, you don't want to be up that late.  As a result, I was tired on Friday.  I then proceeded to work 11 hours, and tacked on an extra two hours picking up parts for the following day's business.  I got home wiped out.

And my little victory?

I finally listened to myself.  I was tired, so I went to bed.  Early.  Quite early by my standards.  This is my usual MO.  Normally, I get tired.  Or sick.  Or hungry.  Or injured.  And I ignore it.  I continue with my life and do whatever it is I was out to do.  But not last night.  I gave in.  I slept.  And it was good.

DAY 12

This one is going to sound pretty stupid, but remember - it's a little victory.  The whole point is to be something small.  Something most people might shrug off as insignificant.  Something I might not have otherwise done.

So what did I do?

I was walking up the pathway to my condo, and I saw a Wal-Mart receipt on the ground.  I saw the same receipt this morning.  And last night.  And I ignored it twice.

But not tonight.

I picked it up.

Little victories.  353 to go.

Little Victories - Day 9

I work too much.

I leave for work at 6 AM every morning, 5-6 days a week.  I very rarely leave before 6 (6:30, more commonly) - even though I schedule myself to leave at 5.

Not today.  Today, I left work before the clock struck 5:30.  My people had things well in hand, so it was as good a time as any to take off.

Here's to taking a baby step toward finding time for a personal life.

357 to go.

Little Victories - Day 8

I relaxed today.

And that's not my fancy way of saying I took a day off from little victories.  This is my victory.

Understand that it's been months since I've taken a day off that was actually a day off.  Typically, I've spent at least half of each day off working from home.

Today?  I did not.  I decided that I finally needed a day for me.

So I did a little grocery shopping, painted some models, watched some Netflix...

Just a lazy victory.

357 to go.

Little Victories - Day 7

This is going to sound like a cop out, but I posted today.

That's my little victory.

It's 2 minutes to midnight.  I spent 12.5 hours at work.  1.5 on the commute.  And spent most of the evening gaming with friends.

I'm exhausted.  I'm ready for bed... but I posted.  Today.  Not slightly into tomorrow... today.

Little victories.  7 wins.  358 to go.

Little Victories - Day 6

There's no need for a little victory to be some grand, complex event.  Sometimes, all it take is doing the right thing.  Doing something good for me I might not have done otherwise.

Tonight, Bree made tilapia and rice with sauted peppers with some kind of fish sauce.

It was most delicious.  When I finished my serving, I very much wanted another one.

So I decided not to have one.  A single serving at dinner was more than enough.  And, over time, the benefits to my health and waistline of not overeating will far outweigh a few more moments of taste.

6 victories.  0 losses.  359 to go.

Little Victories - Day 5

I went for a walk today.

Bree and I used to do this regularly, but have fallen out of it lately (read: the last 10 months or so).

So when we got home today, we went for a walk.  A long one.  About an hour and a half or so.

And it felt good.

Much better than sitting around all night.

5 little victories.  360 to go.

Little Victories - Day 4

Today, I did something I've been putting off for some time.  I have a number of work shirts that are either missing buttons or have oil stains on them.  Due to my laziness, I've just been tossing those shirts back into circulation and grabbing a clean one - only to find those same shirts later and do exactly the same thing.  Over.  And over.  And over again.

Today, I came across one of those shirts.  Not only did I tag it to be returned to the uniform company for replacement, but I set up a spot I can drop the other shirts as I come across them.  In a week or two, those uniforms will be replaced and my collection of work shirts to pull from will be expanded back to its original count.

Little victories.  361 to go.

Little Victories - Day 3

I'll admit it, I'm cheating today.

I haven't actually completed a little victory by the time I wrote this, but I am working on one.

Today, I set aside some time to prep my laundry for the next week.  Basically, I took enough pairs of socks, pants, boxers, undershirts, and work shirts to last until my next day off and put them in the laundry.  As I write this, I'm waiting for the dryer to finish.  From there, I'm going to take all those clothes and consolidate them on hangars.  Each hangars will have a pair of socks, a pair of pants, a pair of boxers, a shirt, and an undershirt.  That way, when I wake up every morning for the next 5 days,  all my work clothes are in a single spot.  I won't have to check multiple spots for clothes, and won't run the risk of failing to realize when I run low on clothing.

Should save me a few minutes each morning.  Who knows what I can cram into that time?

Little victories.  3 down.  362 to go.

Small Victories - Day 2

I took out the trash this morning on the way to work.

This may not seem like a big deal, but understand my trash-removal philosophy.  If it has the potential to stink, it goes out same night.  If it doesn't, it can wait until I have at least 2 bags of trash ready.

Why?  Because I have 2 hands.  Might as well use them both effectively.

But this morning I looked at the bag, saw it full, and took it out.  And I was able to come home to an empty kitchen trash can.

I'm pretty sure it also diminished my stress level by 0.1%.  After all, that's a chore out of the way in the morning, when I still had energy for the day.  So when I got home and the energy level was diminished, there was no looming trash chore waiting.

2 days, 2 little victories.  363 to go.

2013 Resolutions

2013.  A new year.  A fresh start.  Other generic phrases everyone says...

I got to thinking about resolutions and new years and change and what's important in life.

Now, I've never been a big "this is my new year, new me attitude" kind of guy.  I'm as unphased by the calendar change as most.  I'm also cynical as hell of resolutions.  I figure they last, at most, until January 6th.

Probably because they're always grandiose, sweeping resolutions.

"I want a new job."

"I'm going to drop 100 pounds."

"I'm going to free Tibet."

This year, I've decided to join in.  I've made my own resolution.  But not something huge and life altering.

I'm resolving to score 365 victories in 2013.  One for each day of the year.

Small victories.  Because, after all, isn't that what sweeping, life-altering changes are made of?  Consistent, tiny effort?

So that's my goal.  One small victory a day.

Starting today...

DAY 1

Today, I shaved.

I hate shaving.  Especially when I don't have to (read: any day I don't have to work).

But this morning, I woke up.  And before I hopped into the shower, I shaved.

Sounds stupid, right?

It's a small step.  One small victory.  364 days to go.

Pushing the Envelope

Life is just too... rigid.

We live in societies that have rules upon rules and layers of acceptability upon other layers.  I find that as I age, I can't help but question more and more of them.

I should probably mention at this point (actually, I should have mentioned it before) that there is a strong possibility this post will prove to be vague... perhaps excessively so.  But I'll try to clear up what I mean...

I work in what could be described as a "traditional" field.  One in which men are men.  They do manly things.  They lift heavy objects.  They get greasy and dirty.  They grunt about horsepower.  They make disparaging comments about their wives they'd never genuinely have the courage to make to her.  You know... "man stuff."

But they're also remarkably close-minded.

I'd like to avoid too much detail, partly for concern that others in my line of work be construed too negatively (indeed, they are all good people... just people who have led 'traditional,' homogeneous lives).  Part of my vagaries I hope to "protect the innocent," so to speak.  I have not asked permission to speak about the following people, so I don't wish to offend in the extremely unlikely event they stumble upon this blog (seriously, a Barbie/Mr. T boxing match in which Ike Turner is the victor is a more likely scenario than that...).

But at any rate, I have a pair of female customers who come in on a semi-regular basis who are among the most pleasant and nicest people in the world to deal with.  They're both intelligent, witty, and strike up great conversation.  And they're just damned pleasant to deal with.  Most of my staff have encountered them on more than one occasion.

To my staff, those young ladies are just "those lesbians."

Oh, did I fail to mention that they were lesbians?

Of course I did.

BECAUSE IT WASN'T RELEVANT.

Or the two extremely polite customers who are always interested in learning more about how their vehicle works and why.

They aren't "those nice, inquisitive women."  They get branded as "those cross dressers."

Failed to mention that one, too?

Again...

NOT RELEVANT.

Let me take a quick aside here, lest I be judged as "another Internet soap box guy."  I will be the first to admit that when I was younger, I made the mistake of falling into that crowd.  I made the mistake of placing someone's sexuality or personal proclivities over the person as a whole.  Took one aspect and made a judgment.

But as I matured and more life experiences took hold, I came to realize how stupid that was.  There's only one run at life... so shouldn't we strive to enjoy it?  More importantly... what makes us think we have the right to determine how someone else enjoys it?

I've been a tabletop wargamer for many years (I'm going somewhere with this, I promise).  I once heard someone say something about wargaming that has stuck with me.

"No one has the right to tell you how to enjoy your hobby."

I just wish that could apply to life and that we'd loosen up; mix black and white, gay and straight, Cardassian and Bajoran...  and have people stop fearing or dwelling on certain traits.

I admit that I've kind of lost where I was going here.  It's late, I'm tired, and this was, admittedly, poorly plotted in my mind... but I hope it gets you thinking.

It's got me thinking... I've been afraid off a story for some time... in part because of the classic fears, and in part because of society's envelope.  I didn't know how far I could push it before the tapestry of my story unraveled; before my words were ignored as a cheap vessel to write "smut" or "advance an agenda."

Honestly, I still don't know how far I can push.

And I am still afraid.

But I think I need to put aside that fear and write.  Tell the world my story.

I encourage you to do the same.

The Naked Truth...

Tonight's episode of AMC's The Walking Dead has got me thinking about a few things.

1) I am not pleased with the current portrayal of Michonne.  I can't place my finger on whether or not it's the writing or the acting... but Michonne isn't screaming "badass" to me right now.  She's actually screaming "probable daddy issues."

2) I know I'm treading dangerously close to rehashing a consistent joke here... but lay off the black guys!  Seriously!  We meet Oscar as a true option for joining the group, so you kill off T-Dog.  Now Tyreese joins the cast  so it's time to kill off Oscar already?  This isn't Highlander.  There CAN be more than one!

3) Kill Andrea.  For fuck's sake, just do it.

4) More Rick.  More Darryl.  Less not-Rick and not-Darryl.  Thank you.

5) Carl, get back in the---no.  I won't make that joke.  I'm sorry for even considering it.

6) AMC... it's not a "cliffhanger" if your montage of clips from future episodes shows the character hanging from the cliff in a state of clearly not hanging from a cliff.  Anti-climaxed.

7) I'm still waiting for Wil Wheaton to join the cast.  Get back to me.

Now that I've got all that off my chest, let's talk nudity.

Last week, Maggie was figuratively stripped of her dignity with some literal stripping of her clothing.  This week, we were reminded of that in the "last week" compilation.  We also see Maggie wearing Glenn's shirt this week as he's gone all Conan the Korean Barbarian.  I don't get it.

Actually, I do get it... but I don't.

I understand that there's an aspect of modesty and appropriateness to Maggie being clothed (not to mention decorum guidelines networks have to follow).  And I understand that it's a reinforcement of Maggie and Glenn's bond and his desire to help look out for her and so forth.

I just think it sends the wrong message.

Not to the audience, but to their captors.  Putting aside the possibility that to even survive in the Zombie Apocalypse, one would most likely have to, at least, loosen one's sense of modesty - Maggie wearing clothing is exactly what her captors want.

Follow me on this... because I way I see it, the whole point of stripping Maggie of his clothes was to establish dominance.  And it sent a powerful message to Maggie.  She's no longer in control of even her own body.  She's got no physical barriers protecting her from unknown intentions.  It can sow the seeds of mistrust with Glenn, because he's going to wonder why she's been paraded in naked (or, topless as the case may be).

And it works.  Maggie's shame (and fear) is obvious.  She covers up instantly with her hands, and switches to a new shirt as soon as is possible.

Would it not have been a more effective counter-technique for Maggie to stand tall in the face of her shame?  An attitude of nonchalance (even if feigned) would be a powerful weapon of defiance in the face of domination.

After all, it's just nudity.  Is there really that much shame to it?

Why?

Things I Have No Use For...

I've been thinking a lot lately about surplus and necessity.

Mostly, I look around and I see a full apartment.  An apartment that just 2 years ago was "huge" and "empty" compared to our last.  Now, I see books.  Movies.  CDs.  Furniture.  All of which wasn't there for before.

This is not a problem in and of itself, but add that to the fact that I still have all the OLD books.  And movies.  And CDs.  And furniture.

And honestly... how much of it do I really need?  I wonder.

If I were to go through everything here that is mine, how much of it have I not even looked at in the last month?  The last year?  The last 5 years?

I think that's why I'm setting my new year's resolution now... for 2013, instead of increasing my possessions, I'll be looking to downsize.  I'm going to start next year now with a box of things I don't need anymore.

It won't be easy.  It won't be fun... but I think it's a good step in my growth as a person.

I would encourage everyone to do the same.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, I'm moving back toward increasing production on the blog.  I made a post last week, and I've managed to get one up now.  In time, I hope to eventually reach a 3-5 update a week schedule... but for now, 1 a week is a start.  A good start.  Better than what I had going, at least.

And, before I forget, I've picked up some new writing gigs.  Once I receive more information from the campaign manager, I'll be working on some web content for a local politician. 

Further, check out Hi Voltage Ware.  It features jewelry from a local Sarasota artist who has just picked me up to work on some content for the pieces of jewelry.  As of right now, none of the copy is my work - but within a month I'm hoping to have rewritten it.  If you like what you see as the content develops and are looking for some content for any of your own projects, feel free to drop me a message or email.  I am currently taking on new clients and projects.

Until next Sunday.

Why We Fight

I've been thinking a lot lately about why we do what we do.  Why I do what I do.  And whether or not it's genuinely to my benefit or detriment.

My normal schedule goes a little something like this:

Wake up.  Go to work.  Come home.  Go home to the wife. Sleep.  Repeat.  Take 2 days off.

That's a terribly basic breakdown of the routine.  From there, I figure we've got two ways to look at life: positively or negatively.  Of course, I can substitute other words in there depending on how cynical I feel at any given moment.  Optimistic and pessimistic.  Idealistic and realistic.  And so on.

So the above could really read more like:

Rise early to get a new day started.  Put meaning into the day by working a job with a decent paycheck to support my family.  Spend quality time with my best friend and eternal partner.  Get a good night's sleep to revitalize the mind.  Enjoy a couple days worth of downtime to recharge my body and raise my spirits.

Life is pretty sweet when I paint a bland picture like that.

Then again, it could be this:

Get out of a warm bed and away from my wife well before the sun rises to endure a thankless job in which my supervisors would have no qualms about replacing me (or anybody) at any time since they figure people are lined up to take my position.  Dangle a paycheck above my head as if the only thing that mattered in my life was their money.  Get home after a 12 hour shift and try to spend time with my wife... except that we still need to go grocery shopping.  And clean the house.  And cook dinner.  And respond to time demands from friends.  And family.  Then still get to bed early enough that I can wake up the next day to repeat.  But at least there's 2 days I get to myself.  Except that my phone needs to be on because I'm expected to be available to both my employees and my bosses at all times.  For any reason.  And actually, it's only 1 day off.  Because my people can't be trusted to stay out of trouble without me there.  But at least it's still a day.  Except that it's half a day or less... because I wasn't able to finish chore X or activity Y during the work week.  But at least I get to spend that day with my family... except that I work weekends, so I'm off on weekdays.  When everyone else is working...

Realistically, for most of us, I think it's a mix of the two, even though some days it feels like one or the other.

So why do we do it?

Why do we... why do I voluntarily separate myself from my loved ones to spend half my time working for people who aren't actually concerned with me... but rather my position?  Why do I commit 72 hours a week (12 hours a day, 6 days a week) to that?

The math behind that is staggeringly unbalanced, by the way.  That's 72 hours a week.  A day is, obviously, 24 hours.  8 of that is, in theory, reserved for sleeping.  That leaves 16 hours left.  Which is 112 waking hours in a week.  And 72 of that is work... leaving a whopping 40 hours to split among family, friends, chores, relaxation, and entertainment.

Ultimately, I don't know.  If I had the answer, I wouldn't need to ruminate on such things.

But still... isn't there a better way?  Does work really need to be the driving factor in life?  Why do we do that to ourselves?

Something to mull over while I sleep tonight and prepare for another day in the grind tomorrow...

Goodnight, moon.  Goodnight, life behind the work...

Contented...

You know what I do a lot?

Rant.

There's always something I'm ready to complain about.  Or condemn.  Or dislike.

And you why?

...

Neither do I.

Maybe I hit my head too hard.  Or breathed in too many vehicle fumes.  Or maybe I've just had an epiphany.  I'm not sure.  What I do know is that life is good.

I'm 26.  I'm living in an awesome condo.  I have a solid credit score.  I have a job with a strong base pay and an awesome bonus package.  I have an amazing fiance who I'm set to marry in the fall.  I have a great group of friends I surround myself with.

I really couldn't ask for more.

So I won't.

Right now, I'll just be happy and trek on toward the marriage milestone.  Then... who knows?  Buy a house next?  Kids?  Some kind of jet propelled, monkey navigated rocket sled?  A buddy cop-style adventure with Bruce Campbell?

Doesn't matter.  Time to live in the moment... because this moment is good.