Nov

28

‘Tis the season to be lazy

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I have become lazy (ok…lazier).  There, I said it.  I have become lazy, shiftless, lackadaisical, idle.  Now those of you who may know me, and have seen…say…my cleaning habits, are probably not incredibly shocked by this revelation.  It’s gotten scary, though, people.

I mean, my schedule is not grueling by any stretch of the imagination.  I work 20 hours a week doing a job that isn’t exactly curing cancer.  I am taking two classes which do require a lot of work, but I’ve got plenty enough time to finish everything with some to spare.  I am taking on small technology and publishing related projects which I am doing half-assed (note to Kate…the exception, of course, is the project I’m working on that’s yours…somehow I have been divinely inspired to work my ass off for that one..really…I swear).  I’m sleeping a lot.

So initially, I was thinking that given the current course of my life, a little idleness might not be a bad thing.  I mean, Whitman spent a lot of time lounging around, occasionally taking on the odd job that allowed him to wax poetic about strapping oiled youths.  And out of his laziness we get Leaves of Grass.  Ok, so I’m no Whitman, but…you know…there’s some precedence is all I’m saying.

But here’s how I know it’s gotten bad.

The other day, I found myself sitting on my ass, avoiding something I was supposed to be doing, thinking about my financial situation.  I am rather lacking in funds these days, and so I have to be more thrifty about what I’m buying food-wise, and in musing about this I found myself wondering how long I could go without eating.  I am not that fucking broke.  I just was too lazy at that moment to go make some food (an activity that I don’t put a lot of effort into on my best days).  Do you know what happens to species that get too lazy to fucking eat?  They go extinct, that’s fucking what, and good riddance.  Wow.  I have become too lazy to engage in activities that are the minimum required to ensure my basic biological functioning.  What a winner.

That’s it.  Like the Koala, I am on my way out.  Cause of death?  Sloth.

On a separate note, I’ve decided to study the dictionary a little bit closer.  In each of my blogs I will pick a word at random that I don’t know or rarely use, and use it in a sentence.  Actually (again, not a surprise if you know me) I think it is safe to say I will egregiously misuse the word in a sentence.  Just remember the “Gestalt” incident…I’ll say no more.

Today’s Word

Abjuration: 1.  To renounce solemnly : RECANT   2.  To abstain from

As in: “Spencer is being terminated from employment due to his abjuration of the minimum effort required to do his job.”

On a separate, separate note, my friend Spinnerty has a new mix CD which is, as usual, filled with lots of awesomeness.  Check his site (and a free sample..woot!) here

Nov

23

Current video making me giggle like a 12 year old boy

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glumbert - Best Job Interview Ever

Nov

18

Church on a Sunday Pt.1

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It’s 8:20 on a Sunday morning, and I am in a chapel service. There is a woman talking with a voice that is meant to sound kind and welcoming, indicated by what she’s saying, but it really just comes across as somewhat shrill and terse. She is talking about how God loves us all no matter what, and how great (H)is gifts are to us, or something along those lines. Truth be told, I’m not paying much attention. I do pay attention, however, when she says that some of us will enjoy the perfect beauty of heaven in the afterlife, those who have “accepted God into their hearts.” She doesn’t say it, but I think the implication is that the rest of us are kinda fucked. Not for the first time, I bristle.

I am not a Christian. I think it would be safe to say that I have an inherent distrust of Christians in spite of (because of?) my Christian upbringing. I imagine them saying pretty things, singing pretty songs, having a very soft and generous exterior, but bristling with an internal army of judgments waiting to burst out and condemn me, both in this life and the next. I laugh at jokes about them being fed to lions. Around the chapel, the light wood walls and pews are warm with a soft light from receded fixtures in the ceilings and floors, which has a calming effect. The room is itself warm, the carpet spotlessly clean, and behind the small stage at the end stands a back lit crucifix flanked by two flags, an American flag, and another for the Salvation Army ARC. Looking down at my hands I ask myself for the tenth time: What the fuck am I doing here?

Here is the Salvation Army Adult Rehabilitation Center (ARC), and I am here to support a sponsee who is graduating from the program. He is a good man, with a good heart, and he’s worked hard for the last six months to finish, and he deserves his freedom. The program is built around a tough regiment of hard work (most of it physical…the work is for the operation of Salvation Army donation programs and stores), recovery work (AA/NA meetings, group counseling, “life skills” classes), and religion. They wake early, work hard all day, and are required to live under very strict house rules that are very easy to break, and have immediate and severe consequences (in the form of restrictions on leaving the facility, writing essays, extra work hours, and in the most severe cases, termination from the program). I am sitting in the back of the room with the families of the men who are graduating, and in front of us are a sea of men, the “beneficiaries” as the ARC refers to them, all trying to reach this day.

The approach of the Salvation Army is a mixture of Christian and military doctrine (hence the “Salvation” and “Army”), and the service is punctuated by periodic chants that could be from either one. At one point, the minister leading the service says “And we say that God is great,” and the men respond with an ear shattering “ALL THE TIME!” He follows immediately with “And all the time,” and the men conclude with “GOD IS GREAT!” I would normally avoid entire zip codes where this type of activity goes on, but after working with a number of men who were part of this program, and seeing their successes, I can’t help but recognize it’s effectiveness.

The men who participate in this program come from diverse family backgrounds, education, race, cultures, religions, and status in the criminal justice system. Many are here as an alternative to, or supplement of, jail time. Some were just so desperately in an addiction to drugs or alcohol that no one else would take them. Most have committed crimes, from petty theft to things much, much more severe, and they tend to be men who have been very hardened by life. Many have done very bad things, led very destructive lives, and have reached a point where the options are limited to (without being dramatic) recover, go to jail, or die. The stakes, thus, are very high, and in many cases their chances are not very good.

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