on Nic Olson
March 28, 2014, 4:34 am
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This is definitely worth checking out. Guy is unreal.

The Adirondack Haystack Still Floats

THE ADIRONDACK HAYSTACK STILL FLOATS

Click on cover art for more information.

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on why I write
March 28, 2014, 4:15 am
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Is it really necessary? Another guy with a blog? Because there aren’t enough white, Christians whose voices are heard in North American society…I need to stand up for the little guy. If I don’t, who will? Oh yeah….everyone.

So the question is, why bother?

I’ve been dying to write the past few years, but the words never seem to come the way I want them to, or at least as easy as they used to. so I just quit. Blogging, stories, writing in my n’Sync diary…I just stopped. I got tired of fighting a blank page. But the whole time I stopped, I felt as if there were things I couldn’t express any other way. I’ve become a pent up ball of energy. Thoughts, ideas, jokes, theology, books. It was all inside me. I just grew so tired. I’m still tired, but writing is therapy for me, so I’ve decided i need it. even though myself as my own therapist is a terrible idea. Or as anyone’s, for that matter.

As an 8 year old, I wrote a 52 page book about a spaceman named Kenneth. He was the janitor on a spaceship and when he went outside to clean the windows, the jerks took off without him. He fell to earth in his spacesuit that turned into a spaceship and visited all my cousins. It was pretty legit for an 8 year old. At the end, I think he was about to die, and all my cousins were so sad, then he turned into a real boy when their tears fell on his face. Pretty sure I stole that part from Pinocchio.

That creativity has left me. Now I’m an old grump filled with arrogant opinions and distrust, with a hint of Jesus when I’m not too self-absorbed. I’m so wrapped up in internet arguments that the joy of writing has been stolen, ironically by myself, and it all feels so pointless on most days.

I’m not 8 years old, but I still act like one most days. My faith is weak, but I love Jesus. I have an amazing family, wife and kids, and am luckier than I deserve. Most people would kill for what I have. But I’m also whiny and take all the good for granted on a regular basis. Call it the ‘consumer condition’, or maybe that’s just an excuse. This is who I am.

I decided to try something. To just write every day and be as honest as I can. There will always be a little self-deception in my writing, because I’m just delusional enough to think others actually will care what I have to say. So I’m just going to write, for myself if no one else. Writing feels like about the only way I can let things out.

We can go for coffee, but I’ll be an awkward mess and probably cough on your dessert. I can preach, but I’ll just read notes off a page in a monotone voice. Plus, my preaching might be a little too preachy these days.

So here I go. Another caucasian, 30ish year old Christian with an outlet for all my frustrations and passions. Thank you, internet. Hear me roar. Katy Perry is my inspiration. Katy Perry fans will find my blog and be so disappointed.

Don’t expect well reasoned arguments all the time. I can’t promise that. I can promise Vanilla Ice references, and jokes about how it’s really MY milkshake that brings all the boys to the yard. Take that, Kelis.

I just need to write for my own sanity.

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on anger
March 27, 2014, 5:33 am
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I didn’t intend for this to be an angry blog. Inspiring…hopefully. Challenging…yes. Humorous…at least to me. Filled with fart jokes and Sarah Palin references…you betcha. Angry…not my intent.

In real life, I am a passionate person whose passion often boils over and burns the person next to me through anger and unkind words and passive/aggressive behaviour.

But in my writing, I have historically tried to wear the ‘diplomat‘ label, trying to make everyone happy. No matter how unreasonable I find your thought process, I will generally try to hear you out and respond with respect. But behind closed doors, I dream of slashing your tires and cutting your full grown Chia Pet down to size.

I’m just finding it more and more difficult to not be angry. I left this blog for a year. Not because I had nothing to say. But because saying it in a kind, respectful way is so exhausting. I feel like I’ve lost the energy to be nice. You call it lazy. I call it living up to the jerkwad I truly am.

I trust it’s a phase, that I’ll move past this anger. It’s tough with stories like this floating around that make you want to go Nic Cage on Christendom. By that, I mean crazy.

There’s so much to be angry about, it’s hard to know where to start. The Jesus follower in me is screaming to turn the other cheek. But the devil inside of me is telling the sermon on the mount to get bent.

The angry voice is louder when I’m weary, so for now I’ll sleep, hopefully dreaming of Nicolas Cage drop kicking The Gospel Coalition in the teeth. Metaphorically and with the love of Jesus, of course. Maybe that will bring peace in the morning.

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on diplomacy
March 26, 2014, 3:47 am
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I was called a diplomat the other week. I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or insult. I know it was intended as an insult. It was clear from the yelling and general disgust the person had with my state of manliness. more specifically, my lack thereof.

I was in the process of asking someone to leave. Someone who had helped in lots of ways, but created problems in too many others. To the point where they needed to be removed from the situation. I tried to stay calm. I tried to respect the good things they had done and appreciate them for their contribution. But kind words sound like a punch in the junk when you’re handing over bad news.

So I was called a diplomat. It was meant as an insult. I had never heard it used as an expletive. But it stuck with me. Because even though I was tempted to roll my eyes like a teeny bopper whose mommy asked them to turn down the music, I smiled and tried to lessen the inevitable blow with sweet talk and deniability.

Is being a diplomat a good thing? Or terrible? Maybe both?

The positive lies in your willingness to talk with anyone. To engage before striking blows. You see both sides and listen first. You let bygones be bygones and deal with the present.

The negative lies in the fact it sucks. I believe that’s the technical term. It’s really terrible. It feels awful to be kind when you want to throw fisticuffs. To listen when you want to shout. To have a meeting when you want to start a war. George Bush and I at least have this in common.

I’m tired of being a diplomat. I’m tired of playing referee in arguments. I’m tired of arguments mostly because I’m tired of listening to what I think are terrible excuses.

I don’t know if being a diplomat is good or bad. I do know my attempts at diplomacy feel as if they are about to explode in a rage of screams and ALL CAPS LOCK BLOG POSTS! (the worst kind of anger for sure). Maybe I’m doomed to diplomacy and should go work for the UN. Or maybe I should buy a gun and join the NRA. It could go either way at this point.

This is all very vague. Maybe you’re wondering if this is about an interaction I had with you. Here’s the test. Come to my house. If I let you in, we’ll share a slice of pie. If I punch your throat, yep.

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