Your Worst Enemy...Is YOU!!!

Almost everyone has a time in life when he/she goes through a process where they realize they aren't who they should/want to be. This leads to varying degrees of identity crises, during which the individual goes through personal transformation. What does he/she hope to accomplish through this metamorphosis? Generally, self fulfillment.

Self fulfillment can mean a lot of things, but the best way to explain it is that it's when someone (let's aka this someone as Keith) feels satisfied with who he is. This often means that Keith will either change until people think he's socially acceptable. Or Keith will just decide he doesn't really care what other people think. Actually, the "I don't care what people think" stance is sort of weird because most people that "don't care what people think" are people who want to be seen by others as the people who "don't care what people think," which mean that they actually do care what people think because they want to be viewed a certain way by society. That was quite a mouthful. And that's what she said.

But seriously, how many of you have not been through this stage? If you haven't, you probably will at some point in your life. Take me for example: I'm a single, sexy, bachelor on the prowl. But right now I'm a bit self conscious of a certain protrusion (mah belleh!) that I keep trying to hide when I meet people. Did you not get the "mah belleh" reference? One sec....

Yeah...if you haven't guessed, the protrusion I spoke of is mah gutsikinz, my tub of happiness, my frontal camel hump, my "wiggle him and see him jiggle", the place where my food goes. If you still don't know what I'm talking about you must have been dropped as a kid...a lot. Anyway, let's not focus on my belly.

So I decided that my identity crisis and my fat-vat are connected! The way I see it, when the gut of doom goes, so does the lack of self confidence. Also, then I'd be hawt. So what am I doing about this revelation of mine? Well, one of my challenges for this year is to develop a habit for exercise; I started a twenty-three day long trial, one day for every year of my life. The challenge is to get myself to go running every day (except for the days when I let my muscles recuperate...or when I decide to stay up blogging....) at 2 A.M. Why at 2 A.M.? Well, that's when all the people in town are asleep. People sleeping means fewer (if any) eye witnesses to the bobbing mass that's thudding passed their house. Also, I'm up that late every day anyway, so, might as well.

What do I hope to accomplish after my challenge is complete? Hopefully the habit will stick and the twenty-three days will turn into something I feel uncomfortable not doing. I get to a point where I want to be able to parade my body in front of those who care to look. Oh, and I'll be healthier to. Minor detail.

Another side affect of completing this challenge could be that I start to pick up other healthier habits. This way one good thing leads to another and eventually I'm that guy that every girl wants.

Man. I really seem to be hung up on this people thinking I'm attractive thing....which is understandable, because, I am attractive...somewhere...I'm sure of it...

You know about snowballs, yeah? You're at the top of a hill, get a little ball of snow, roll it down, it gets bigger and heavier and rounder. Well, that's what I want to do with good habits, except bigger and rounder and heavier is something I don't really need for myself right now. But that's what this challenge is supposed to accomplish. Completing this challenge will lead to my eventual self fulfillment. I'm sure there's a proverb somewhere concerning habit building: "Shake it 'til you break it" or "If you poke it long enough it eventually caves" or "yay! that there pile's bigger than it used to be" or something like that. I don't know. I shouldn't be awake right now.

But in what way have you gone through an identity crisis? What did you do/are you doing to reach that state of self fulfillment?

On A More Serious Note

I felt the need to write something a bit more serious this time. So far, every post has added a bit of humor to different aspects of my life. This makes for fun reading, but it also might sugar coat or glaze the point I'm trying to make. While this isn't a bad thing, I think tonight deserves something a bit more introspective.

Last night my friends celebrated my twenty-third birthday with me. We had some great food, some cake, a few beers...it was a great night. Seeing my friends around me made me feel safe, comfortable, and well cared for. The night before, my family called to sing "Happy Birthday" and tell me how much they loved me. Even with nine hours of driving time between us, they didn't forget to call me on my birthday.

During the last few years, it seemed that I had gotten myself into a pattern where nothing went well for me. Money has been an issue for my family for as long as I can remember. Stress seems to have been with us for even longer. Trial after trial after trial, and still, it seemed that my life was only going downhill.

Last year I remember talking to my adviser in college, telling her that I couldn't remember the last time I was happy. It was a particularly trying year for me. I wasn't doing well in classes, and I had gotten to a point where I cared less how the year ended. Most likely it wasn't going to be good. 

It's funny how flawed our logic can be under hard times. In my mind, all my problems were connected to people and places that I knew. The obvious solution was to go somewhere where I didn't know anyone. Looking back I can see that it was stupid of me, but at the time it made sense. I moved to Ames, Iowa, to see what I could do to repair my life.

Ames proved to be a bad idea. I was penniless and friendless in a town of over fifty thousand people. It did not matter how or where I looked for work; nobody seemed to want me. I stayed there for at least two months, searching for work, trying to survive. I chose some days to stay home and do nothing, my reasoning being that if I didn't exert my body, I wouldn't be hungry, making my food supply last that much longer. My friends from college kept trying to get me to leave Ames and come live with them. I refused. I even missed my friend's wedding so I could continue job searching. I needed to prove to myself that I could live on my own. If I could live on my own, I wouldn't have to worry about other people bringing me down with them. Eventually, my time ran out. I was out of money and could no longer afford to pay the rent for my apartment. I was lonely, poor, hungry, and I needed help.

Out of nowhere, things got better. My buddies came to Ames to grab my things and take me with them to the house they were sharing in Sioux Center, the town I had tried to leave. Almost instantly, I got my old job at the restaurant back. I was making money. I was eating regularly. My life was turning right side up. It was clear that things were only going to improve.

So as I sat there, surrounded by friends, at my twenty-third birthday party, I contemplated the rarity of being able to live with people who want you to succeed. How often do you find smiles that aren't superficial, but filled with care? How many people have functional families that, even through the stress of living on the edge of poverty, takes the time to call them to tell them they are loved? There are very few precious moments in our lives and we would be fools to take them for granted. How could I dare look at my life and complain about how badly I was living? Even at work, I can tell that my coworkers want me to do well. I'm not just some person they work with. I'm part of their family. How many people get to have more than one really awesome family?

Contemplating through the buzz of conversation (and the buzz from the beer) I couldn't help but smile inwardly. I had tried so hard to make it on my own, only to fail miserably. Being rescued by my friends and family taught me that there is no shame in needing to have people who know you can depend on.

As the night was finishing, I got a text message from a dear friend which read, "Go outside your front door ASAP and look down." I walked outside to find a single vanilla custard cone sitting on the deck in front of the door. As I ate the most delicious cone I've ever eaten, I realized...I live a charmed life.

23 Challenge Thingies

I thought it would be neat to see if I could come up with twenty-three things I would like to accomplish this year. Odds are I'll only get half done. Half of one, that is.

Twenty-Three Challenges

1. Get a car.
2. Learn to play guitar.
3. Get caught up on debts.
4. Get back into artsy things, like drawing and painting.
5. Learn something wicked on the piano.
6. Write a song and then upload it to YouTube.
7. Develop a habit for exercise.
8. Go bungee jumping.
9. Learn Romanian.
10. Go on a date...with a girl...
11. Make a toilet paper roll fort.
12. Finish reading through Harry Potter.
13. Hug a Jew.
14. Take the salad. Not the burger.
15. Unpack my suitcase from my trip to Chicago last Christmas...
16. Go on a road trip with my guy friends. Vegas? Don't tell your wives. If they ask, say we're going to British Columbia to look at natury stuff.
17. Go to British Columbia to look at natury stuff.
18. Catch a fish, use it as bait, catch a bigger fish.
19. Tell a customer to buzz off...if I only say it in my mind it still counts.
20. Find that girl I've been trying to find. The one that smells awesome, is kinda cute, and not high maintenance. Also, she likes boys. Also, by "boys" I mean "me." Also, by "likes" I mean "totally digs." Also, she doesn't mind that I have this absurd crush on Shakira.....
21. Drink coffee. Black.
22. Stay up three days in a row.
23. Condition someone to want a piece of gum every time he/she hears the phrase "that's what she said," or "there's no way that's going to fit."

So, that's my list. I bet I get at least two of them done.

Yay! Happy Birthday, me! I gave me challenges as a birthday present. Idiot......

Giving Stuff Up

I don't think I will get much argument from anyone when I say that the times we are living in are economically unappealing. It's the number one problem everyone has in common. It doesn't matter how much money you have in your pocket, it's never enough.

People are having to live without some things so they can make it to the next day. For some folks it's easier than others. There are different levels of poverty, obviously, so this means some people will be able to get away with spending more than others.

When I was living in Ames, looking for a job, my list of things I learned to do without was pretty long:

• Light: I just used day light, and my computer screen/cell phone by night.
• Air conditioning: mine was broken, so this was forced upon me
• A bed: I just had a mattress on the floor, which wasn't that bad.
• Clothes: since it was so hot and I didn't have money to do laundry, I figured I'd try to keep my clothes clean as long as possible by just lounging around the apartment naked...so...awesome.
• Friends: if I had made friends I would have to go out to eat with them or watch a movie together or something.
• Car: I actually still don't have one. Kind of annoying, but nice not to have to pay gas and insurance.
• Furniture: my apartment didn't come with any. Why buy tables and chairs when the floor is right there?
• Food: I had this awesome plan figured out. If there was a way for me to apply to some place online or by phone, I did it. I figured the less time I spent walking to places (remember, I didn't have a car) would be time I spent not getting tired and hungry. Since I wasn't hungry, I wouldn't need to eat as much. Even so, I got pretty sick of backed potatoes, apples, and rice that summer.

Okay, so maybe it's not that long. But it made you feel sorry for me, right? That's all I wanted anyway. Pity friends are still friends.

Today, I turned twenty-three. It's a pretty anticlimactic age, so far, but already, in the first five hours of my twenty-third year, I've done some reflecting on my life so far.

What have my parents given up so that I could live for twenty-three years and develop an identity? Well, virginity was one thing, but besides that I'm sure there have been tons of other things they could have done but left aside. Obviously their dreams of becoming millionaires went down the crapper. If you asked them about it they'd probably say something lame like, "my children have made me rich" or something like that (love you, Mom and Dad!).

Twenty-three years is a long time. I'm sure my parents' list only got longer as the years went by. Thousands of dollars of possible entertainment were wasted on their second born so that he could have a life that was full and well nourished....I don't want to have kids...

I guess, what I'm trying to say, is, "thank you, Mom and Dad, for having a good night twenty-three years ago (just...spare me the details please)."

Dutch People

If you aren't from Sioux Center, Pella, Grand Rapids, or Lynden, then you probably aren't aware that there are pockets of Dutch communities throughout our country. In the most "in the middle of nowhere" places, the places where you expect to see nothing but landscape and hillbillies, hide these towns, overflowing with the descendants of imported Hollanders.


Now, the Dutch, as everyone who knows Dutch people knows, are all the same. After living among them for five years, I have discovered that there are three things that will guarantee whether or not so and so is Dutch: 

1. The all have ridiculously long names, like: Maarschalkerweerd, Kortenhoven, Van Coevorden, and Rodenburgh.
   
2. They're all related. I'm not joking. They have this silly game called "Dutch Bingo." The object of the game is to find out how you are related to someone you just found out you're related to (this isn't hard, because, like I said, they're all related). It's an easy game to recognize. You know someone is playing Dutch Bingo when you overhear this kind of conversation:
   "Oh! You're last name is Vander Zander! You know, I have a cousin who lives in Grand Rapids whose last name is Van Zandervanderwhatsit. Your great great uncle once removed didn't happen to be Karl Vander Van Zandervanvanmaanen, did he?"
   "You know, I think he actually was! If I recall correctly, he moved to Lynden way back in 1892 or whatever.."
   "Yeah! And he got married and sired like...fourteen kids...three boys and the rest girls. One of them eventually moved out to Grand Rapids."
   "No way! I was just talking to my mom's second cousin about how we have relatives in Grand Rapids that moved from Lynden way back when. In fact, I think we talked about the guy you're talking about. I think her exact words were, 'There were fourteen of them. Three boys and the rest girls. He eventually moved to Grand Rapids.'"
   "Ok...this is too cool. There's just no way we are not related. How small is this world?!"
   Too small...the world is way too small when there are over seven billion people on the planet's surface and every other person you run into is your mother's uncle's son in law.
3. They are all obsessed with saving money and getting the biggest gain for the tiniest cost. All of them. Obsessed. Big gain. Tiny cost. This natural - and I daresay, instinctive - compulsion to save money has led a large portion of the American-Dutch population to live quite comfortably. Unfortunately this also makes them the worst customers imaginable.

That third point is the one I'd like to hone in on in this post. We are just getting through our "Coupon Craze" at our restaurant. Every once in a while, we send out coupons to the community. You would not believe the amount of attention we get because of those stupid things. A week or two before they expire, the whole town shows up at our doorstep to make sure they are saving money by using their coupons. The word "mob" comes to mind. I'm pretty sure if there was some kind of sale on pitchforks and torches they would be buying those too.

Anyway, the point of the coupons is to get people to come to the restaurant, use them on something they want, and maybe get something else that catches their eye.

Not Dutch customers. These people are smart. Every loop hole, every square inch of coupon goodness is exploited to the max by these clever, clever Hollanders. I've sold a $35 value meal for the amazing price of $1.37, or something absurdly...absurd like that. That's not a bad deal at all. You would agree, yes?

We have all sorts of coupons. Anything from $1 off your meal to BOGO (that's Buy One Get One) something crazy. So when you get customers that come in, get two burgers for the price of one, and then have the gall to complain that our food is too expensive, you can't help but be a little...pissed, really.

Seriously?...You're complaining to me about paying too much money? Look, honey, first of all, you seem to be a sweet old lady, the kind that gives kiddies cookies and milk and what not. As such, I feel like you really won't even be able to finish one of those burgers you're buying. There are smaller things on our menu, and cheaper...What's that? You're upset that you can't use your senior discount on top of that 50% off deal? You really want your fifteen cents that badly? I don't know what to tell you. I'm not allowed to do that. What's that? You don't think it's fair? Um...lady...you do understand that this is a business, not a charity...right? Okay, just checking. It just seems like you want us to give you all we have for free, which would make us go out of business, which would make us unable to offer you these amazing deals on a crap ton (real measurement) of food. So, if you think about it, the best way for you to save as much money as you can is to spend as much money as you can afford. I can see that you're excited. I'm glad you've changed your mind and are no longer complaining about our prices.

That actually never happens. The part where they stop complaining I mean. But seriously, people...of course the fish is expensive. It's fish! Where do we live? Iowa. Where do fish come from? Oceans and lakes and shit (we actually do have quite a bit of that last thing in Iowa. Yay, cows!). This means that we need to pay people to catch them, filet them, store and preserve them, and deliver them. That's a lot of paying. I mean, it's not like we took fish shaped breading and squeezed "fish" paste into them. It's real. So take your fish with your awesome deal, sit down, stay a while, and shut up....please. And enjoy your meal, for Heaven's sake!...

That's pretty much the way it goes. I'm surprised we haven't been couponed out of business. We are way too generous. It's like lending someone a hand, but they don't return it to you. But that's okay. We're here to serve selflessly, with absolutely no regard for our own personal comfort or job security. No no, I don't want your guilt laden apology. Just take your food and go. Leave me here...alone...with only the lint in my pocket to trade for food at the Poor People's Swap 'n' Shop.

Since I live in a Dutch community, I might get a lot of flack for this. So I might as well just hammer the nails into my coffin by trying my hand at some Dutch jokes....

Yay! Dutch Jokes!

• Q: How do you catch a Dutchman?
  A: Use coupons as bait.
• Q: What's the best present to give to a Dutch relative?
  A: A BOGO certificate. That way they get not one, but two presents.
• Q: I'm Dutch and have never played Dutch Bingo. How do I find out who my relatives are?
  A: Do you live in a small town? Then don't worry. You're all related somehow.

Note: I don't hate Dutch people. I actually might be ambiguously Dutch myself. Thanks for being good sports. ;)


Oh! Please feed the fish on your way out. :D

Who Do I Want To Be Now That I'm Grown Up?

Remember, when you were a kid, how you would compare futures with your friends? One kid would be like, "I'm going to be a fireman!" There would be nodding of heads; who doesn't want to be a fireman? Another would be like, "I'm going to be a cop!" Every kid wants to be the guy that locks up the bad guys. Remember how you listened to everything they said? Remember how you wanted to be something better than them? So you got to thinking in that little head of yours, how in the world can I top being a fireman or cop?!


If you're from my generation, you grew up watching cartoons about superheroes with superpowers and "superfriends," aka, the sidekicks. Remember the invincible Superman? Remember Batman, the Caped Crusader? Remember Flash, the fastest man in the world? As you list the different superheroes in your head, you try to decide which one you most want to be like so you can tell your friends. That's when a stroke of genius hits you like a lightning bolt! Puffing up your chest with childish arrogance, you tell your buddies that you are going to be SuperBatFlashMan! When you grow up, you're going to be fast! You're going to have laser vision! You'll have superhearing! In a nutshell, you're going to be bad ass.


In all seriousness, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a gardener...Just kidding. Nobody wants to be that.


But for real now. When I was a kid, I wasn't really sure what my dad did for his job. But I knew I wanted to be just like him. He used to travel a lot, and he would always have such awesome gifts for us when he got back. We were always so happy to see him after one of his trips! In my mind, it seemed like an awesome job to have. You got to see the world (I loved travelling as a kid) and get awesome toys. But old dreams tend to fade.


By the time I was in high school, I had decided that I was going to be some kind of professional musician. I have always been drawn by the magic of music. I knew that whenever I was around music I was relatively happy (you know, compared to being in class or being picked on by siblings). When I was preparing to look for a college, the adults in my life suggested that I find a career in something I was passionate for. Music seemed to fit the bill.


Then came college. I spent the first two years getting good at my craft. Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata, Rachmaninoff's Prelude in C# minor, J. S. Bach's different prelude and fugues..I knew them all. I could tell you what each composer was thinking when he wrote a particular piece just by analyzing it with music theory. Unfortunately, the "real world" (I hate that expression...) demanded that I be more practical with my future life style. So I merged my music major with a business major. At least this way I have some kind of fallback if the music thing goes wrong.

Which brings me into the present. Today I work at Culver's, a fast food chain mostly prominent in the Midwest. I'm not analyzing music, nor playing piano professionally, nor managing a band. If you asked me if I am anywhere closer to who I want to 

be, I might say: 

The fact is, I work and live with people who respect me for who I am (not a small feat). Though I'm not a millionaire, I make enough money to live fairly comfortably. Furthermore, I've learned that, as much as I love it, music isn't my real passion. My real passion is people. Where better to meet people than a restaurant? I can influence hundreds of people a week just by being behind the register and offering hospitality with a genuine smile.

Honestly, the more I think about it, the less I care what I become as long as I'm surrounded by the people I love. Hopefully they love me back. Otherwise I'll go all SuperBatFlashMan on their arses...

But think about it: where do you find true happiness? We live in an era of cynicism and pessimism. People will tell you that the odds of doing something you love and getting paid for it are very slim. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try with all your being to make it so. Sure it's hard. Sure it might suck at times. But occasional sorrow is trivial next to long term happiness. Right?