August 5, 2001
I have a question that I like to ask people around me. Would you be willing to trade everything that you know, everything that science, logic, and conventional wisdom have taught you, for just one thing that you truly believe?

Sounds like a crazy question, doesn't it? But think about it. What I'm talking about, without getting too specific about the focus of it, is Faith. Suppose you could believe in something so strongly, so deeply, that even if it stood in defiance of the laws of nature as you knew them, you would believe nature itself to be flexible before you surrendered your belief.

And how would that change your life? If the evidence showed you that reality was something different than what the people around you said it was, would it change anything about the way you interacted with people around you?

Just as an example, suppose you had learned that you were able to fly unaided by any mechanical means. You could simply move through the air as easily as you now move across the ground, without even the need to concentrate. You had done it often yourself, as well as seeing others fly in such a manner. how would you interact with people around you that still believed unaided human flight was a child's fairy tale or a myth from the ancient past, long discarded by logical humans? What about people that say, "I'm so glad that you've found something that works for you, but I just don't believe it."?

Keep in mind that it isn't through any special ability of your own that you can fly. Its something that is available to everyone. Letting people in on it won't make it any harder for you to fly, and it costs nothing.

Kind of a wierd analogy, I know, but that is the way life is for, among others, a really serious Jesus Freak.

I wish that I could say the question was my own idea, but I cannot lie to you. I heard it in a song by Susan Ashton, a marvelous singer that you should check out if you get the chance.

August 2, 2001
Well, I've pulled a couple of 60-hour weeks, and the tension is starting to build in the office. My thoughts have been pretty disjointed lately, so it can be pretty tough to put down coherent words.

I am one of those adult people with ADHD (Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder). I know that the whole concept is blown out of proportion in most of the Western World (which is where I live), but I am one of the actual, honest-to-God, full blown cases.

ADD isn't something you have as much as something you are, or so it's been said. Lately I've been doing a bit of reading about adults with ADD. The reactions vary pretty widely. Some people are ashamed, some are living in constant fear of making mistakes, and some say they wouldn't dream of trading what they are for what everyone says the rest of the world is.

As for me, I take the good with the bad. Having a brain that runs counterclockwise has its advantages. It makes problem solving easier, especially with people that are used to doing a thing the same way for years. It makes me look like a genius. It also has the advantage of making me fairly creative, a good musician, and I have had the opportunity to retain a good number of childlike qualities that many people lose by their early 20s, such as an insurmountable sense of wonder and a complete lack of dignity.

There are disadvantages as well, don't get me wrong. Every few months I'll take a wrong turn down a one-way street I've been driving down for years. I forget to shave once about every other week. If you tell me a list of things to do, about the best I'll be able to do is remember the first item, that there is, indeed, a list, and you are the one to keep running back to for the others items on the list.

I forget important things that I need to carry with me, such as my wallet, which I left behind today, or important paperwork, or the occasional important article of clothing. Once I got all the way to the parking lot at work before I realised I was in my undershirt.

The hardest part, though, is knowing what my wife has to put up with. I forget to pay bills. I forget to write down withdrawls from the bank, or the occasional cheque. Sometimes I have to look at my driver's license to see when my birthday is. I can be a frustrating person to have to share a life with. I'm still not exactly sure why she does it...

Well, I think I'm all written out on that subject for now. My mind has wandered again, and I can't get it back on track. Something about a snack food I was just having, and then it jumped to a thought about someone I know that drinks too much coffee.

I'd better sign off, before someone gets hurt.

July 25, 2001
I have a headache.
It isn't one of those blinding migranes, or one of those hangover headaches, or a stress headache. Most likely it is slight dehydration. Not a big deal, even for someone who never gets headaches.
But it does cause me to think about something. Previously, I mentioned that unemployment was the second most unpardonable sin in western society, because so much of our identity is tied up in what we do.
The single most unforgivable thing in western society today is pain.
Kick the idea around a bit. We will forgive anything today in the name of lessening or avoiding pain. Drugs (legal or otherwise), lies, alchohol, even killing people to a certain extent. There is almost nothing we will not do to avoid pain.
"So what's wrong with that?" you may ask. "Pain, if you recall from your 10th-grade Biology class, hurts. Avoidance of pain is natural. That is why we pull a hand away from a hot stove."
No. We pull our hand away from a hot stove in order to avoid damage. Pain in that case is nothing more than a physical reaction to damage. But to avoid pain must not be the be-all and end-all of existence. Ask anyone that has ever known a leper, and they will tell you the devestating results of disengaging the pain mechanism.
So where am I going with all this? To some extent, it's simply an observation. But to someone out there, I would say the following. Perhaps you are suffering emotionally. It could be the end of a significant relationship, the loss of a loved one, or even the death of a pet. It is not for me to say what pain is significant, or what should not hurt. But I can tell you this; To withdraw from life as a child's hand from a hot stove is no answer. And while no amount of advice will lessen the impact of your experience, and nothing that I could ever say or do will take the pain away, taking the pain away isn't the answer anyway.
The canvas on which your life is painted is so much more than the blacks and whites that you can see from the immediate point of view. Perspective adds colour and texture to the line drawings that you see now. Don't run from pain. Embrace that which causes you to feel at all.
Well, I've babbled enough on this subject. Headaches are rather distracting, and I'm finding it hard to put my thoughts together coherently.

July 20, 2001
Today was a hard-working day. I'm not talking about mentally difficult, like working on some computer problem, or emotionally difficult, like trying to help someone deal with a deep personal tragedy. This was a manual labour day, full of back-breaking, 110 ° (F), Hebrew-slave-type work.
There is a part of me that loves this type of work. I find it extremely gratifying to see the younger men fall to the wayside while I keep working. There is a certain satisfaction that comes from looking back at the work you have done at the end of the day and knowing that you gave all that you had and did a good job. And when you lay down at night (earlier than usual), you can sleep easy, knowing that you traded a good, honest day's labour for your pay.
Then, of course, there are the other parts of me that disagree violently with the first part and would beat it down and lock it in a closet if they could. These are the parts of me that prefer the intelectual challenges that come from computer work, or supervising a crew of working people to guide a task to completion. You know, the lazy parts of me.
Why is it that people need to work? We all seem to have this compulsion toward some kind of gainful employment. There are much easier ways to live, if you are resourceful and willing to do without some of the trappings of a capatalistic society. And yet work is so important to us that it has become our very identity.
Ask a random stranger who they are, and you might be suprised that they generally answer with their occupation. "I'm a policeman," or "I'm a lawyer." (Neither of which I am, by the by). Unemployment has become the second-worst social sin in western society, and one which we cannot seem to forgive.

July 16, 2001
I have finally made a moment to have a thought. It isn't a very interesting or profound thought, but just taking a moment to think is a minor victory.
I have discovered that it is, indeed, possible to care for people without caring about them. I can be deeply concerned with the welfare of some of the people I know, and yet not value their opinions of me or what I do. I'm not sure if I like this or not. I have always been a very empathetic person, and people's feelings are still very important to me. But I think, in this case, that I consider the hyper-critical attitudes of people I know to be more of a fault to be overlooked than a valid emotion to be concerned over.
Many things have kept me busy this month, not the least of which is job searching. I'm not unemployed (or else it would be highly unlikely that I would waste precious minutes on this journal), but I am anticipating a change soon. I have roughly 10 weeks to get my affairs in order. It's going to be a grand adventure, I'm sure, and yet another opportunitty to trust my God to make things happen. Faith, however, doesn't mean I sit under a tree and eat birdseed until Jesus drops a large bag of money in my lap. Faith means I blow about fifty thousand copies of my resume into the market, make all the phone calls and handshakes I possibly can, and trust God to show me where He wants me to land.
I have a different concept about this whole Jesus Freak thing that a lot of people do. Some people say they believe in God, and try to hold Him at arms' length, aloof from the mundanities of life. I figure if God went to all the trouble to put me on this particular planet, in this particular country, in this particular point in history, He's probably interested in other parts of my life as well. I'm willing to accept that I may be wrong, but I would rather be wrong on this one than get to the end of the road and find out this was the answer.

July 4, 2001
Today was a busy day. In an effort to raise funds for a more or less worthy cause, I was distributing burgers and cold ones to various passers-by at a local celebration of American Independence. I'm pretty sure that all of them were glad to be independent from their employers for a day, and if you pressed them, tha vast majority would talk to you at length about how they appreciate the sacrifices made on their behalf by those who died in combat. But I don't know if all that many of us really understand what liberty is.
Is liberty simply a lack of restrictions? I don't think so It seems to me that often the boundaries in my life are far more liberating than the lack thereof. It is far too easy to be paralyzed by the abundance of choices. As for myself, I am the type that stands far too long in front of the menu sign at McDonalds.
Is liberty all about being unrestricted by oppressive government? If so, there are those that would argue that America is lacking in liberty, and others that would say that America is overdosing on liberty. I think that the oppressive nature of a democratically elected government is far too subjective a concept to serve as a definition for liberty.
So what do I think it is? Well, liberty is a concept I apply to a society, not an individual. In a society that enjoys liberty, the members of the society as a whole are unrestrained from activities that do not harm the society itself. As for what activities harm a society, you have to answer the question, "What is the purpose of a society?".
And that, dear friend, is another topic entirely, and one that I am not prepared to deal with today.
While I'm looking for a decent segué into some other topic, I'll mention that I'm listening to At Home With Esteban from a guitarist that prefers to go by his first name only. It has a 15 minute version of Knights in White Satin that I enjoy.
Today I also thought about what I would write here. When you come to the realization that the events of your day and the thoughts you generate could potentially be viewed by 6 or so billion people, it encourages you to examine your life, and put things into perspective. Perhaps that guy that cut you off on the interstate was being a jerk and ruined your whole day, but when you think about telling the civilised world about it, or about how long you spent trying to decide what colour socks to wear, it encourages you to focus on things with a bit more impact.

July 2, 2001
I'm on a break at my job. I haven't seen my co-workers for a few days now. They have all very politely asked about my weekend, and to most of them I said it was fine, since I know that few of them are really interested in my life outside this office. To a couple, I confided in a personal tragedy that I faced, and I showed this website to one. The only other person that can put my face to this writing is my wife, who will appear prominently in the poetry section but very seldom here. She is always a part of my thoughts and feelings, but I don't think I'm ready to share that part of me with all of you yet, even if you aren't really there.
It occurred to me recently that last month I had to say goodbye, in one way or another, to almost everyone I remotely care about over the past month. It was emotionally draining. Today is a bright spot, though, since my wife and sons are returning from vacation tonight. Yes, they went on vacation without me. My line of work necessitated it. That is the most likely explanation for my voluntary insomnia.
My family is my world. One of the most significant things I realised over the past month is that there isn't anything I miss about being single. I think that's as far as I'm going with that subject for now.
I usually tell you what I'm listening to while I'm writing. Since I'm not playing any music right now, and all I'm listening to is office gossip, I'll mention that I've got The Best of Van Morrison, Volume 2, in the car CD player. It's very uplifting, and I recommend it to anyone that would like to wax philosophical as they drive.

July 1, 2001
Today was a frustrating day. I am an occasional musician with a Christian group, and I just couldn't get into my zone. The crowd was responsive, the singers were on, everything was going well, I didn't miss any cues or make any technical mistakes. I just felt hollow. I'm just coming off a pretty rough month, so I imagine that has something to do with it. The changes I've been through left me feeling like a dishrag after a buffet on the inside.

My faith is important to me. As a matter of fact, my whole life centers around it. I know God is real, because of many experiences with Him. But today, it was as if He was giving me "The Treatment." I can't remember the last time I felt so alone. Now I know what the prophet meant when he said, "The heavens are like brass."

So, now that you know that I'm a Jesus Freak, you have to ask yourself if that causes you to lose interest in this journal. I suppose some of you will (if there are any of you out there). But let me assure the rest of you that just because I have the Red Phone to God doesn't mean I have no self-doubt, or questions, or dilemmas. It does mean, however, that I have a source of strength outside myself.

But I digress. If you want to know more about the Jesus Freak thing, e-mail me and I'll give you the whole deal.

I'm not going to go into why June of 2001 was such a terrible month, at least not yet. It's still a little to fresh for me to be peeking under the bandage.

I'm listening to the One-Hit Wonders Channel at Spinner.com. They are playing Dan Hartman's "I Can Dream About You." It seems that the vast majority of One-Hit Wonders came from the '80s. What does that say about the post-Boomer/pre-GenX crowd? Still, I groove on it, and I wonder if some of these guys just decided to take their first Million and split, or did I just never hear of their second attempt.

June 30, 2001
This is the first day of the journal. I'm listening to Van Morrison, the Irish Cowboy. There's something about that voice, whether he's talking about Hymns to the Silence or Cleaning Windows, that gets me thinking on a deeper level.
I suppose the first thing I ought to explore is why I started this in the first place. I'm not exactly sure myself. Roughly a week ago, I was just randomly bouncing around the Internet and happened to run into a list of journals, much like I imagine you did, if you are reading this. I took a look at a few sites, all of which had some neat graphics and effects, but few of which resonated with me. There was one, however, that captured my attention. It was built by a person who is almost completely opposite to me in every way. I don't even know if it is still being maintained or checked on, as the last journal entry didn't seem to be all that recent.
As much as I would like to tell you the address, I won't, since I left a message in the Guest Book that would almost immediately identify me and spoil the anonymity I wish to preserve. I will say this much, though; the things I read there caused me to examine myself, and question my motivations and actions. If reading that clues you to my identity, so be it.
So, after puzzling about why my attention was so captured, I decided I would give this a try, too. I doubt that the previously mentioned journaler could have anticipated having an effect on someone like me, so I in turn hope to impact someone whom I cannot imagine influencing.
In future entries, I will probably talk more about my internal musings, my philosophies and beliefs, and the hopes, doubts, and struggles I face in life. For now, let this entry be sufficient as it stands. I'll be back soon.