Wish I Was There

It's been a little over 6 months since my wife and I moved from Jacksonville, Florida to Chicago. We moved so that I could attend seminary and in hopes that Kristy might have more employment opportunities here. So far, we have enjoyed living in the city. Public transportation is fantastic - though sometimes it can be a little dicey - and there is always something to do.

However... damn I miss the weather in Florida! I don't think I can stress how much I am hating the cold here. I always knew that I preferred heat to cold. Don't get me wrong, there are some miserable hot days in Florida, but they don't last for six months! The heat can be extremely uncomfortable, but the cold actually hurts.

This morning, I took the dog to the dog beach and, by the time we left, I think I was experiencing the beginning stages of hypothermia. I have been home for almost three hours now and I still can't seem to get warm. Everyone tells me that Chicago is the greatest place to live once it warms up. Hopefully that will be enough to get me through the next couple of months of this misery.

Long Day

This week is the start of my second semester of seminary. I am taking 4 classes... which is the same number that I did last semester. However, all 4 take place within a 27 hour period - beginning at 9am on Tuesday and ending at noon on Wednesday. I am not going to lie, this first week was rough. By the time the third class on Tuesday began, I had a pounding headache and zero attention-span.

Thank God for Adderall!

Don't worry, it is prescription. I was diagnosed pretty heavily A.D.D. and without the Adderall, there is no possible way I could get through a single 3-hour class let alone a schedule like this.

That makes me think about all the people who suffer from some sort of mental/chemical imbalance. Just because one isn't sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching or have a stuffy head or fever, it doesn't mean their body has no need for medication. (wow... how many negatives were in that sentence??)

I have personally seen, and heard numerous stories about, people who are bipolar or manic-depressive or suffer from crippling anxiety simply think that by trying harder, they will get by. As someone who live like that for years, I can tell those people that they can't. If something is wrong with our bodies, we should take the steps necessary to fix the problem. I remember when I first started on my medications. It was like a whole new world opened up to me. I asked my pastor, Kevin, "Is this how most people feel all the time?" He said, "Yes. Amazing isn't it?"

Amazing indeed. Because I was finally diagnosed and submitted to treatment, I have been able to continue my education... something I had, at one time, become convinced I would never be able to do.

So, Tuesdays... bring it on.

Giving Up

The Season of Lent begins today. So, many people will be foregoing chocolate, alcohol, cussing, etc. for the next 40 days. I have given up things throughout the years; however, I am always a little suspect when it comes to my motives. I remember one year I decided to give up fast food. This included pizza. Did I mention I was delivering pizzas roughly 30 hours a week? It was rough. I made it though, and that pizza on Easter evening was one of the best I've ever had. Unfortunately, I am pretty sure I did it because I had been gaining weight and was really just looking to improve my eating habits. It was in no way, shape or form a spiritual exercise.

Other years, I have really tried to treat whatever I was giving up as a fast. When I began to crave said item, I would try to pray and remember the One who gave up everything (I could probably say "ones" since there have been many in my life who have sacrificed themselves, in one way or another, for me... but this is a time to focus on Jesus). There are people who put pebbles in their shoes so that every time they take an uncomfortable step they can recall Christ. That is what this fast should be I think. That's why I should look to give up something that will truly "hurt"... not in a self-flagellation sort of way but something that I will sincerely miss.

Well, I am giving up something this year, but I'll keep it between God and me for the time being. However, I also want to "give up" slacking on this blog. I know I've said that a few times, but I am committing to posting something every day except Tuesdays (since I am in class from 9am - 9pm on that day) during Lent. This one has selfish motives. I am hoping that it will instill the habit in me again of posting regularly. It is not a fast per se, but it will be a little challenging.

My prayer is that I can give my fast to God. This is not for me or so that others can be impressed. This is something I can give to the Almighty. Of course, we always benefit from a fast that is entered into with a broken and contrite heart, and I do look forward to the spiritual reward, but I pray that I will focus my attention on God - Father, Son, Holy Spirt... Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer - and contemplate the significance of the season.

When pigs fly

... or cows fall. Of course, pigs flying would be more appropriate since I am going to quickly mention the 4-1 Cincinnati Bengals.

So, I have been a Bengals fan my entire life. I grew up in Cincinnati, and I was in middle school when Boomer Esiason (I will spill the beans on a VERY awkward meeting I had with him at a later date... let's just say, he might rightly have a restraining order against me, or at least have been extremely creeped out) led them to the Super Bowl. Unfortunately, I had to watch them lose on a (admittedly) spectacular 84 second drive - the length of the field - orchestrated by the great Joe Montana. However, they were, are, and always will be my team.

But, because they were the losingest (not sure that's a word) franchise in the '90s and not much hotter in the early '00s, they have brought a lot of pain in my life. I remember dreading Sundays because I knew I would get my hopes up only to see them dashed upon the rocks... or the shoulder pads of some better managed team.

Hold the phone! Now, I can wear my Palmer jersey proud. I can wear my old Bengal's t-shirt with honor (that way people know that I am not just jumping on the bandwagon, well at this point it is probably more of a bandscooter). My Bengals are 4-1 and in 1st place in the AFC North. I just wish I could actually see them on television.

Sell-Out

My wife has been looking for a job in Chicago for a few months now, and she is frustrated. The job market (especially in her field) is bleak. She put her resumé in for a part-time position recently, and the guy hiring told her that he received 80 resumés in less than a week for a job for which he was expecting to hire a student. The search sucks.

However, I think the hardest part about trying to find employment is the concept of "selling" yourself. How do you do that without sounding like an arrogant ass? You are supposed to accentuate (exaggerate?) your strengths, ignore your weaknesses, and basically show them why they would be idiots not to hire you. However, you don't want to sound like you are over-confident or incapable of working with a team or taking instruction from a boss. You are supposed to be a "self-starter" who can follow directions... seems like an oxymoron.

My wife struggled with this for a while, but I think she found a great way to allow her resumé to build her up while still showing humility. Instead of singing her own praises, she gathered quotes from former co-workers, colleagues, and supervisors and placed them in the margins. Not only was it a creative use of a part of the paper that goes unused, but it shows that those she has worked with/for valued what she brought to the table. It's like sneaking in extra references while enhancing the visual presentation of the resumé. Smart.

Still, it is a tough balance to market yourself as indispensable while not sounding egotistical.

Guilty Pleasure

I am fairly certain that I wrote about this before, but I felt compelled to confess once more...

Two years ago (well, more like a year and a half) I was sitting on the couch reading for a class. My wife came in, picked up the remote control - which is unlike her since she usually doesn't watch much television - and proceeded to put it on the CW. I asked her what she was watching and if I should go to the other room. She skated around what she was going to watch and said that I might want to adjourn to the spare room and my desk. I pressed the issue. Finally, after some cajoling and the opening montage of the show, I found out that my lovely wife was a Gossip Girl junkie.

I began to totally make fun of her for watching that sort of trash. Now, don't get me wrong. When the original 90210 came out, I was in Junior High and definitely watched eagerly. I watched every Real World from season 1 (wow, I am dating myself here) through season 5 when people actually "stopped being polite," but instead of starting "to get real," they just hooked up... a lot... in the mandatory hot tub... on the first night. All this to say, I have watched some trash. But I hadn't been addicted to a high school soap opera since before my voice dropped and I got armpit hair (which, incidentally, the voice dropped when I was 13, but the hair didn't come until I was 17... late bloomer I guess). Now, my 20-something (soon to be 30-something... a former primetime soap opera about yuppies) was enthralled with over-privileged, borderline juvenile delinquents who manage to avoid consequences because of their parents' astounding wealth and social power.

So, I decided to continue reading on the couch in order to be able to point out my wife's ridiculousness. Mistake.

I asked my wife who the characters were, and she began to relate the story line. I asked a few more questions. Then, Chuck Bass, the conniving ladies man with a fantastic wardrobe (which I could never pull off... I mean, who wears lavender??) said the line, "There's something wrong with that level of perfection, it needs to be violated." A VILLIAN!! I instantly liked this guy. Not because I found him honorable, but because he almost epitomized decadence and everything that's wrong in the world, and I wanted to see if he ever "got his" in the end. I was hooked.

All this to say, last night my wife was able to leave work early, and we were able to catch up on the last two episodes of Gossip Girl. It is our guilty pleasure. Usually it involves wine or champagne (technically it's sparkling white wine since champagne only comes from the Champagne Region in France, but that's just semantics), and we sit back and watch the mayhem unfold. It's fun, in a sick and twisted - not to mention voyeuristic sort of way - and we enjoy being together doing this.

I have come to the conclusion that everyone has these guilty pleasures. I don't think they are wrong (unless of course they involve physical or emotional damage to you or others... like adultery or something to that effect). Rather, they are a way to blow off some steam, and perhaps they can serve to bring two people - or more - who share the same guilty pleasure together a little more.

So, what's your guilty pleasure?

Status Update

Dave is ready to get back in the groove.

Wow, it's been a while. Crazy schedule the past couple of months, but I am back. I am getting back into a rhythm. This pattern, the one I've found to be healthiest for me, consists of working out regularly, not sleeping in too late, not staying up too late (though that has some wiggle room depending on deadlines), doing the chores around the apartment, and blogging regularly. I won't promise everyday since life can get in the way and I want to avoid frustration by not getting caught up in the legalism of maintaining a schedule. Rather, I will promise myself that I will get back in shape: mentally, physically, and spiritually. Thus, my update is that, at the moment, I am fat, disorganized, and lazy, but with hope.