A Lasting Impression or The Sausage and the Printer

One of the good things about my day job is that I get to listen to my iPod while I do it. If I'm not on the phone or in a meeting, I can listen to whatever I want. Most of the time, I listen to podcasts. Most of these are incredibly lame, catering to my darkest geek desires, but a couple of them are thought provoking and maybe even moving. I heard two stories recently that I thought I would share.

There once was a sausage factory. An old, dirty, windy building full of hallways and rooms. One day, they built a brand-new-state-of-the-art factory across town. It was white, stainless steel, and made the most use out of their space, the refrigeration unit was right next to the packing machine so they could be cooled as soon as they were ready. Everything was great, except that the sausages didn't taste the same. Or look the same. They weren't as crisp or as red. And they couldn't figure out what was the matter. The recipe was the same, the way they cooked them was the same. They spent months trying to figure out what was different. Then they finally figured it out. Irving. Irving was different. See, Irving used to work for them at the old building, but he didn't make the transition to the new place, it was too far from his home. His job was to move the freshly packed sausages to the freezer room, and he would have to wind through hallways and past other people working, and Irving was a friendly guy, so it wasn't a quick trip. Turns out, that is what made the sausages red and bursty. Irving's trip. So they had to add a room to their new building saying, "We shoulda called it 'Irving's Corner'."

Let me tell you about Matt. Matt works in the hallway by a printer in a busy office. He doesn't have anything to do with the printer, he just happens to work by it. Most of the conversations he has relate to the printer in some way."Hey did you take my printouts?" "Have you seen my printouts?" or just small talk. Most people don't even know his name. To most of the other people in the office, he is "The guy by the printer". When asked, he didn't even know. He said that he sees some of those people upwards of 30-40 times a day. Every day. By the printer.
He says that he's started to dream about the printer. He'll be at a party, a dream party, and he'll look over, and there is the printer. Quietly humming away. Or jamming. Sitting there, off to the side, keeping him company with it's monotone voice.

For most of us, we don't' work in a vacuum. We work with people, or for people. We have the opportunity to impact the people around us, to be significant. I think God wants us to be Irvings, not Matts. I know which one I would rather be.

Sage Advice

Continuing my trip down memory lane, I present some wisdom garnered from my friend R. A quiet and genteel soul, R. was occupied our freshman year, as many of us were, with finding that 'special someone'. Honestly, how much of college is devoted to book learning and how much is devoted to trying to mack on the cute guy/girl? What follows are ruminations upon dating: A student's favorite pastime.

Guys, have you ever spent a lot of time with a girl just hanging out, being friends, and gotten the feeling that she really liked you? You agonize over asking her out, pondering such questions like, "Will this affect our friendship/relationship?"(thoughts totally foreign to men, as we usually never think). You finally work up enough courage to ask her out, and she says, “I don’t like you that way.” OR “I just want to be friends.”

No single sentence carries such soul-crushing power. Do women have any idea what the does to a guy? I understand that it may be the true in some cases, that girls really do want to jus tbe friends, but lets be honest, most of the time, you don't. And that ruins it for the times you do mean it. So do us a favor, next time, just lie. Say you are interested in dating another guy. Or you are going to be a nun. Or you are allergic to their favorite color. Something. Anything. Just not that. What you are saying could be interprited this way: “I love hanging out with you. I love your personality, and everything about you. Except for you. If you were someone else, we would totally go out, and maybe even kiss. But your not. So, thanks for stopping by. See you Friday for lunch and a side-hug.”

It is like going to a job interview and hearing, “Wow, I gotta be honest; you are everything we are looking for. You fit the job completely. Your resume is perfect. But, we are not going to hire you. We are going to hire someone else. But you will be pleased to know that we are going to judge him (and everyone who comes after him) by by the standard you have set. And if it’s all right, we would like to cosult with you all the time and complain about the guy we did hire. Is that all right with you?” Thanks for your inspiration R.

Looking back with close to 8 years of life experience, four of those being happily married to the bestest girl, it is still sound advice. On the whole though, I think we were just whiners.

I should really drink less coffee

Today, we continue to visit the past, as I bring you the second of my collegiate journal entries. Saying this one was, eccentric, would be kind. It would also be a lie. This was weird, even to me. And I have a high tolerance of weird and I wrote it. So it is heavily edited. I know I wrote it at 2am freshman year, but if I didn't know I that I didn't do drugs, I would swear I had done some. So what follows is a more coherent, slower paced version of a day in my life, circa '00.

I have noticed that in my life, things seem to spiral out of control, uncontrollably. One thing leads to another, to another, and then I'm playing Goose to your Maverick. For instance, let us say that someone wakes up late for their 8am class ( I know none of you have ever done this) so you have to skip the shower, put on yesterday's clothes and bike like a Plutonian Nightmare to make it class. Once you get there, the only seat available is A) the one that has a broken arm thingy and the desk won't stay in place and keeps dumping your books on the person next to you B) who happens to be that really cute girl you've been crushing on. Ok, this isn't so bad, you can still make a good impression except that you came in late, dumped your books on her and smell like you didn't shower and biked like a man possessed to get there (which of course you did).

So you made it through class, only failing the quiz by a point or two (should have studied!) and you go to stand up, and catch your pants on the broken army thingy and ripping a gigantic hole in the general area of your buttocks. Good news! The only thing clean about you is your underwear! Bad news, it rained while you were in class, and your bicycle seat is sopping wet. So you have choice, you can either sit and soak your undergarments (unpleasant), or ride standing up and stay dry while affording the whole world a view of the gigantic hole in the general area of your buttocks.

Later that day, you and your friend are hanging out and he goes to find his wallet, but his wallet isn't there. You and he proceed to look for it without success. You turn the dorm room inside out and you even go so far to check his car, which he hasn't driven in a few days. He proceeds back to his car and cancels all of his credit cards, debit cards, Aggie Bucks, etc. Then he sits down and finds his wallet. Not a foot from where he was standing. So now none of his cards work, and he doesn't have a lot of cash and can't get any any time soon. So to liven the mood, you decide to treat him to a late movie and you go to his car to drive over there. Except his car won't start. It seems he left the dome light on after searching for his wallet, and it drained his battery. So now it is 12:15am and you guys are looking for someone with jumper cables and is willing to teach him how to use them. You know how to use them, but why spoil the fun? Besides, give a man a fish....

That was a bad day. The first part about the biking, that was true. Happened to me. I had repressed that memory. For the record, I chose to sit down on the bike, but it was so uncomfortable that I ended up half standing, half crouching awkwardly. So I was wet and embarrassed. Compromise is a bad thing. The second part about the wallet happened to my friend J. and me. It was his wallet. Good times.

The old me looks a lot like the new me

When I was in college, I used to express myself by writing these mass emails. I think it was a lot like this blog, but back before I knew about them (does that make me old? It makes me sound old). I found them stashed on my hard drive and have been going through them, sprucing them up, and thought I would post them here. So what follows are my thoughts on labels, circa 2000.

T-shirts. At some point, they stopped being clothes, and they started being posters, signboards, and advertisements. Many try to 'express' their individuality through their t-shirts. Does wearing a band t-shirt make you a member of the band? Are those who wear the band shirt the only ones capable of understanding and appreciating the music and the lyrics? I think it is less about the clothing and more about our search for significance.

Significance can be found in many places, everyone wants to belong. From punks, to Abercrombie & Fitch, to cowboys, everybody looks for something that can define them. It does not even have to be clothes. Some people look for their school, profession, or significant other to define them. What is our identity wrapped up in? What DEFINES you as a person?

Recently, I have been caught up in my own search for significance. I have no clue what I want to be when I grow up. I have no idea what I want/should do with my life, I have recently been re-evaluating my ideals, principles, and standards. Is this how I want to live my life? Casually floating through existence? True, I have really awesome friends, I go to a great school, and I have a wonderful family. But is that all I am? Were my friends to leave, I drop out of school and my family die, would I cease to exist?

Where do I draw my significance from? What defines me as a person? It is not my sense of humor, for many people are funny. It is not my friends, for they are not mutually exclusive friendships, my friends are friends with other people. It is not my school, for my school belongs to 45,000 other people. What defines me? In my search, I have found that answer to be Jesus Christ. While I may not know who I am, I know who He is. I know what he stands for, and I have a direct line of communication with Him.

But if I account myself a Christian, then I should hear what He is saying and that I obey Him with all my heart. But what if I don’t? What if I choose not to do what I know is right? If I define myself as a Christian, but live contrary to His teachings, then what? What does that make me? It makes me nothing. I am simply wearing a label, or listening to a type of music. It ceases to affect my identity.

My point is this: if you define yourself as a Christian, then it is time to live up to it. It is time to stop pussyfooting around the issues, and to stand up for your beliefs. Only by following after Christ do we gain that sense of significance. I may not know what I am going to do with my life, but I know that God does, and that is good enough for me. By following Him, I am sure to find out.

So, that was me, almost 8 years ago.

Calling a spade a spade

Hack (noun)- unimaginative writer: a writer who produces routine unoriginal writing, especially for newspapers, magazines, television, or movies.

For a while now, I have felt this tug, this pull to do something. To say something. To use what I've been given. I never thought that would be hard, or that I would fight it so much. Why? Why this struggle? This inner turmoil that seems to bind my hands and my thoughts?

Someone once said, "Do the best with what you've got." I have no idea who actually said that or where, but knowing me, it was probably either A) a cartoon after school special or B) an 80's sitcom. In that spirit, I bring you this: "The Prayer of St. Thomas". Pretty mysterious huh? Naming a hack blog after a famous theologian? That's how I suck you in. You think it is going to be all profound and shed a revealing light on some mysterious bag of mystery, but no. Nothing like that here. There is nothing mysterious or profound. Just one man, trying to obey God's call.

"Ineffable Creator, Who, from the treasures of your Wisdom, have established three hierarchies of angels, have arrayed them in marvelous order above the fiery heavens, and have marshaled the regions of the universe with such artful skill, You are proclaimed the true font of light and wisdom , and the primal origin raised high beyond all things. Pour forth a ray of Your brightness into the darkened places of my mind; disperse from my soul the twofold darkness into which I was born: sin and ignorance. You make eloquent the tongues of infants. Refine my speech and pour forth upon my lips the goodness of Your blessing. Grant to me keenness of mind, capacity to remember, skill in learning, subtlety to interpret, and eloquence in speech. May You guide the beginning of my work, direct its progress, and bring it to completion. You who are true God and true Man, who live and reign, world without end. Amen."*

~St. Thomas Aquinas


*Anderson R. and Moser J. (2000). The Aquinas Prayer Book: The Prayers and Hymns of St. Thomas Aquinas. Manchester, NH: Sophia Institute Press