My Next Thirty Years

I think I’ll take a moment, celebrate my age
The ending of an era and the turning of a page
Now it’s time to focus in on where I go from here
Lord have mercy on my next thirty years

Hey my next thirty years I’m gonna have some fun
Try to forget about all the crazy things I’ve done
Maybe now I’ve conquered all my adolescent fears
And I’ll do it better in my next thirty years

My next thirty years I’m gonna settle all the scores
Cry a little less, laugh a little more
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear
Figure out just what I’m doing here
In my next thirty years

Oh my next thirty years, I’m gonna watch my weight
Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late
Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers
Maybe I’ll remember my next thirty years

My next thirty years will be the best years of my life
Raise a little family and hang out with my wife
Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear
Make up for lost time here, in my next thirty years
In my next thirty years

Contentment

We humans are idiots. We are almost always looking ahead or behind, and rarely focusing on the present.

As a kid, I couldn’t wait to go to Kindergarten.
When I started kindergarten, I wanted to go back home.
In grade school, I had times where I both wished I was in kindergarten, and longed to go to middle school.
In middle school, I realized just how good I had it in grade school.
In high school, I anxiously awaited college.
In college, I missed high school… and kindergarten.
In the real world, I realized how much college really was like kindergarten.

When single, I longed for a relationship.
Whilst in 99% of my relationships, all I wanted was to be single.
In my first and only committed courtship, I looked forward to engagement.
Once engaged, I longed to be married.
After marriage, I happily awaited children.
And when I became a father, I realized it…

I had reached contentment.

Sure there were other areas to improve – my spiritual life and my job and my car and my house and keeping up with those Joneses – but for the first time in my life I was happy with the “now.”

But true to human idiocracy, I found a way to screw it up. I coveted and allowed myself to be tricked out of contentment. Told myself there was more when I had it all… The true definition of both egomania and greed.

I anted up to a poker game with a 100 million-dollar winning lotto ticket for a grand prize made of Monopoly money.

I should have looked at the now. I should have stopped to enjoy the route instead of trying to worry about making good time or finding shortcuts to happiness. If I had just looked up from the map I would have seen I was already there.

I guess that’s why they call it baggage. The car is long gone now, and I’m on a deserted road with these heavy suitcases. Trying to find a friendly place to rest.

There are plenty of yesterdays… and, God willing, lots of tomorrows – but there’s only one today.

Memories

Trying to make new ones is the hardest part.

Gone.

November 19th, 2012. Although I will not die until many many years from now, this is the date that should my tombstone, for I have officially ceased to live.

Chick-Fil-A Controversy

I don’t understand why everyone is freaking out about Chick-Fil-A’s public stance on the owner’s personal beliefs regarding the sanctity of marriage. They are a privately-held company and can choose to think however they feel. Now, is this the best business sense to advertise those thoughts? Probably not. But they did, and you can’t fault them for that. It would be like being angry at the chain of Christian Book Stores because they support creationism.

Yes, the owner funds “anti-gay” programs and institutions. But it’s his money. He can do with it as he pleases. I’m sure those local businesses with a Jesus Fish on their bumper probably give some of their money to church. They have that right to.

Bottom line is, if you don’t like it, don’t go there.

Speaking of which, I cannot believe how many fellow Christians are now in opposition of the chicken chain. Have we forgotten that homosexuality is technically a sin? I’m not saying I hate any member of the LGBT community. But we are called to hate the sin and love the sinner. I’m just shocked at how we, as Christians, can be so morally opposed to a company that wants to see less sin in the world.

Honestly, would you boycott McDonald’s if they said “Hey, we really don’t think you should murder people.” ? Of course not. Personally, I don’t see much difference in Chick-Fil-A’s comments.

And before you get on me about equating lesbians and gays to murders, let me remind you that all sins are the same in God’s eyes.

Furthermore, before you write me off as a right-wing nut job, let me tell you I have friends, and even family, who are homosexual. And they are some of the nicest, sweetest, most giving people I’ve ever met. Keyword is people: something they still are. I don’t see them as “Gay” or “Lesbian,” – I just see them for who they are. Their choices do not define them. I feel privileged to have them in my life, even though I may not agree with their lifestyle. But you know what? I still love them.

You know what else I have in my life? Alcoholics. Habitual liars. Prideful people. And I still love them too. Additionally, I have had more than my fair share of sin, personally, don’t get me wrong. In all honesty, at times I believe I could give Paul a run for his money based on his 1 Timothy 1:15 verse: “This is a trustworthy saying, and everyone should accept it: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” – and I am the worst of them all.” (NLT) I am in no way, shape, or form claiming to have a better life, a better marriage, or a better grasp on this world than anyone in the LGBT community.

But this still ruffles my feathers. What gets me the most is so many opponents of Chick-Fil-A are using “freedom of speech” as a right infringed upon. Are you not infringing upon THEIR same right by telling them they cannot have that opinion?

I do believe Huckabee took things a bit too far. Let’s not start a war over chicken. To be fair, the food is amazing, the service is excellent, the advertising works, the hometown promotions are fun… all in all it is a great company. A company with an opinion. An opinion I happen to share – maybe not to the extremes it’s been taken – but I share nonetheless. Does this mean I’ll be eating at Chick-Fil-A even more? No… I’ll eat a Chick-Fil-A when I wanted a damned good chicken sandwich, as I always have.

But I do have to say I am severely disappointed in the number of Christians who now so vehemently oppose the fast-food chain for its public beliefs on what we’ve turned a blind-eye to as sin. It is partly our fault, as American Christians, for becoming more and more accepting in society.

• Alcoholism is now a disease, and not a sin.
• Addictions are treated as mental disorders, and not sins.
• Homosexuality is treated as a way we are born, no longer a sinful choice.

Those statements are going to upset a lot of people. This whole rant will. And I’m okay with that, because we are called to be IN this world, but not OF it. We should be loving and accepting of people, but we should not tolerate sin. Not in the least bit. And that is an extremely hard line to walk, so most people falter to one side or the other on big issues. They will either embrace and accept sin by means of their silence, or they will grow to hate and oppose the people involved in that sin. You see it all the time, everywhere. And it makes the rest of us Christians look bad. So bad. How can anyone take us seriously when you chase off scared, broken women in the clinic parking lot with “BURN IN HELL” signs? How can you show Christ-like love when your shirt says “GOD HATES FAGS” in bold letters?

(The irony is, these “Christians” are sinning by trying to oppose sin to this extreme. If we have hate in our heart, we have already committed murder.)

But I digress… Look, Chick-Fil-A has a stance against a sin. Society as a whole, and many Christians, feel it’s too controversial to call that a “sin” anymore.  I believe Political Correctness is going to kill the church if we continue to accept it. If we continue to water things down so we don’t upset people. You think Christ cared what people thought when he flipped over tables in the temple? Or when He opposed the Pharisees time and time again? Or when He healed the very soldier who was there to lead Him to His death? That’s a resounding Hell No.

Christianity is controversial. “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.” (Matthew 7:13, NIV) Today society expects us to be all inclusive and totally accepting. Well we, as Christians, should accept all… but understand that this club IS exclusive. Membership is free, but it’s the ONLY way to get the extended stay at the resort when we fade to ashes and dust. Sorry folks, that’s just the way it is. And I’m not saying that if you choose homosexuality that you cannot abide in God’s kingdom. God welcomes sinners. Thank the Lord for that… ALL have sinned and fall short of the Glory of God. All are welcome.

Here’s the bottom line of my extended rant: get over it. Eat there, or don’t eat there, it’s a simple as that.

If tomorrow “Papa” John Schnatter announced to the world that he is… I dunno, a Wiccan, would it determine if I patronized Papa John’s Pizza anymore? Probably not. It’s freaking pizza, people. And he is ONE person out of hundreds of thousands in the company. Again, I may not agree with him if that’s what he chooses to believe… but does eating his pizza make me align with his beliefs? Did he ever say he would ONLY serve to fellow Wiccans? Absolutely not.

So let’s drop the whole thing. Everyone is entitled to and opinion. And everyone is entitled to choose where they spend their money. Eating chicken sandwiches doesn’t make you homophobic. NOT eating chicken sandwiches doesn’t make you a Champion of the GLBT Alliance.

And of course, all of this is just my opinion.

Unsent Corporate Letters # 4 – Taco Bell

Dear Taco Bell,

 

Look… You know me. I know you. We’ve spent many a night together, even when one of us has been a little to heavy on the bottle. You don’t judge.

But you’ve got to stop the teasing. Why is it that every time you offer me something new and exciting, you pull the rug out from under me as soon as I’m in love? Is this some kind of a sick, twisted game to you? Toying with my emotions like this?!

I’m sorry babe. I know, I forgave you before. The Spicy Chicken Crunchwrap Supreme made me fall for you all over again. And when it was discontinued? I still came back. Come on, baby, it’s me.

But this time it’s too much. You stopped listing my Ranchero Chicken Soft Tacos on the menu, but you always made them for me anyway. I didn’t mind the extra 20 cents. Anything just to be close to you. And then you went and changed all that tonight.

Baby, a man has needs. No no, baby it’s not like that… yes, I love you for your value. And the long hours. And how well you get along with my friends KFC and Pizza Hut Sweetheart listen… this isn’t easy but, well,  I think I should see other chains. Other chains who won’t do this to me.

Oh don’t get all high and mighty with me! Yeah, so I haven’t been there in a while, so what’s it to you? Well maybe I WAS at Wendy’s! Maybe she’s got what I need! She told me “when it’s real, you know that’s it’s real,” and how can I fight that?! MAYBE SHE WOULDN”T FORGET CHIVES ON MY DAMN CHEESY FIESTA POTATOES.

WHAT’S THIS I HEAR ABOUT YOU AND LONG JOHN SILVERS, HUH? HUH????

Oh no, don’t think I’ll come crawling back to you at 2am after a late night out with the boys. Oh, wait. Maybe I will. I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it.

 

Looooove you,

The Welshman

 

 

 

Bury Me At Sea

**Edit — Em has posted her thoughts on this experience on her blog. I think she was on a different boat. Or in the pool.** 

Let me preface this by saying I’m not the best swimmer. I think this is in part due to the way my dad “taught me to swim” – around 8 years old, he simply put floaties around my ankles, tossed me over the side of the boat, and explained “If you keep moving you won’t go under, Anthony!”

I panic if the shower drain clogs.

Anyway.

So we booked a Catamaran “Booze Cruise” which was partly a misnomer from the start. Apparently Sandal’s insurance regulations do not allow dispersal of alcohol aboard the boat… at least not prior to the passengers swimming in the ocean or climbing a couple hundred feet of waterfall for some reason. Hrmm…

First stop was snorkeling. At least, for everyone else in the water. For the smart people, it was “watching people snorkel from the boat.” For the talented people, it was “snorkeling.” And for me, it was “trying not to die.” There was a Beginners Class at the front of the boat — but what the heck would they teach you? How to kick your legs? Which end to breath through? Jeesh, no thanks.

So anyway, I put on my size-too-small fins, my ridiculous safety flotation belt, and my mask and snorkel, and waddled to the back of the boat with the pros. I jumped off and into the deep blue, ready to see the wonders of the majestic ocean…

But no; instead of calm cool waters, I was dropped into a torrent of current + riptide + class IV rapids pushing my body away from the boat at at least a steady 12 knots.

So, I try my best to catch up to everyone, but it’s taking every ounce of my energy to keep up with the “guide” — and he was pulling two fat people behind him on a life-preserver. Each time I’d reach the group and catch my breath enough to don my mask and take a look below the water, the group was on the move again. I swam for 45 minutes straight and only covered 17 feet of ocean floor. And only saw 6 inches of it.

Of course, being a life guard, swim instructor, aquatics director, and secretly one-quarter mermaid, Em was swimming circles around me the entire time. At one point, I looked up at my buddy and in a sigh and told him “Just bury me at se–” but apparently Poseidon has a sense of humor, and the sentence was cut off by a tiny wave slapping me in the face and filling my nose and mouth.

Finally, it was time to go. I shot down the gulf stream current back to the stern of the boat so I could get out of purgatory the water. However, there were 3,479 other passengers who apparently felt the same as I did; and they were unfortunately better suited than I to tread water and keep their place in line.

I could have done a commercial for the freakin’ Infinity Pool;I swam as hard as I could for another 8 minutes and never got closer nor further away from the ladder that was my freedom. The last thing I remember was clinging to a splintered door as I felt Jack’s icy grip leave my own a Jamaican deck hand pulling me up and rolling his eyes.

I rolled to the deck and removed the bulky “safety items” that tried to pull me down to Davy Jones’ Locker, and decided if God had intended me to be in the water, He’da given me a boat.

In Closing: Jamaican Snorkeling = Single Worst Experience of my Entire Life.