Sometimes I think my calling in life is to be a contrarian. I seem to have to disagree with everything. I suppose there are bigger, more psychopathic contrarians than me, but I tend to disagree with a lot of things most people generally accept.

I feel it the most when I walk into a Christian bookstore. Yesterday I found a reprinted version of a book I loathe. I thought it would die a lonely death with a second-rate publisher. But alas, it’s been picked up and reprinted, and I’ve lost respect for a first-rate publishing house. To my horror, the most irritating aspect of that book was still there, untouched. I still have the original manuscript of that book that I was asked to read and give quotes for the back cover. I keep it on a shelf in my office as inspiration.

But that wasn’t the only thing I disagreed with. I noticed that in the entire “teen christian living” section, half of it was books about sex and dating. Sigh. I won’t even get into that.

But what I did get into were the several books about modesty. For some reason it’s a topic that’s gathering a lot of steam. Once upon a time I would have been on that train (and there’s probably entries in the archive to that effect). But now I see a lot of holes in the modesty logic. I read an article a few weeks back that really pissed me off, and it’s taken all my restraint not to write an all-out rant about it.

Instead I’ve decided to let the ideas fester, let my brain mull it over some more and see what I really think about it. I think in the end I’ll still be the contrarian, but I’m trying to bring a bit of levity to it. Just a bit though. I’m sure the rant is still coming.

With Abby off on the youth group missions trip for the week, it’s just me and Speak. It’s very quiet and particularly unmotivating. Not that I’ve been a slacker. I was up at 7:00 a.m. (better than normal) and I actually cooked something for dinner tonight (tacos). It’s just difficult when there’s not some semblance of a routine. When Abby was around I at least had her coming and going at normal work hours to keep me somewhat grounded in a workday reality. I left to run errands at 3:00 p.m. today and didn’t get home until after 7:00 p.m. Freedom and wheels are going to my head.

Yesterday I coped by re-reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I’m more than halfway through it, and probably would have finished tonight if I skipped the blogging.

Sometimes when Abby’s gone I think I’ll get so much more accomplished. I can hole up in my office and play on the computer until all hours of the night without any interruptions. But it doesn’t work that way. I’m less motivated when Abby’s not around. Maybe it’s the irresponsibility of bachelorhood sneaking in. Either way, I don’t care much for it. I’m a better person when my wife’s around, even if it means I spend less time accomplishing stuff.

Speak seems to be especially confused. He wanders around as if looking for Abby, and isn’t quite as active as he normally is. Either that or he’s just pissed off I gave him a bath yesterday.

I’m addicted to blogs. More like addicted to blogging, but it’s all the same. I’ve been blogging like an unemployed man on Monkey Outta Nowhere, which is odd since I’m now self-employed. I think part of it is the fact that I feel a real need to be entertained all the time. Gene Edward Veith had some comments about this kind of hyper-entertainment mentality, and they hit home with me.

When I can’t eat anything without either watching TV, surfing the web, or reading a magazine, you know there’s a problem. When there’s nothing new on my regular list of blogs and I start surfing to random blogs I don’t even know, craving something new and interesting, you know there’s a problem.

I guess on some redeeming note a lot of the blogging I’ve done on Monkey Outta Nowhere has a purpose. Some of the stuff may be fluff, but there are a few deeper things that are related to actual paying jobs I’m doing.

Those few instances aside, I still dream of a being a blog baron. I have a long way to go. Those few paying jobs that have resulted in random semi-related posts, along with my Google Ad income is hardly anything you’d call an empire. It’s not even a lemonade stand empire.

Sometimes I have a strange problem letting those fantasies go. I guess it’s a good thing I’m still resisting the urge to do a local St. Paul blog, as much as I still love the idea.

Sigh.

That about sums up how I feel some days.

With the annual birthday celebration comes the expected piles of dough from generous relatives. Despite getting a GameCube this year, I still have a rather healthy pile of birthday cash, which brings on the anxiety of how to spend such a wad.

I love getting birthday money because I’m notoriously cheap, and such a wad is a chance to finally buy the goodies I’ve been too responsible to spend money on. Birthday money doesn’t go in the budget, so there’s no guilt.

Yet as my wife points out, I spend so much time trying to plan and squeeze every penny out of my birthday stash, it’s hardly worth it. I admit she’s right. I do spend a lot of time planning what I could buy, checking out several items on my latest goodies list, adding them up, and seeing how I can maximize my birthday money. It’s really quite anal.

This year is no exception, though I’m finding myself torn. Part of my is haunted by the fact that I’m an entertainment junkie. Do I really need more CDs and DVDs? Yet other spending ideas, like putting the cash towards an iPod or going to the movies without guilt for the next several months are equally entertainment based. Entertainment seems to be what I like to spend my money on. I shudder at the thought of spending birthday money on clothes, something my wife would relish.

And so I go back to weighing the options. Simpsons Season 4? The few remaining U2 CDs I don’t already own? A pile of DVDs I could never justify buying? And I find myself asking strange questions, like is it way too nostalgic to buy the animated G.I. Joe series on DVD? Then I wonder if I should just go nuts on eBay.

Of course the responsible person out there is wondering what’s the big deal. Why don’t I just stick the cash in my wallet and spend it as I feel like it? Why do I feel this intense need to spend the money now? That’s just not the way I work. Birthday money is meant to burn a hole in my pocket.

Sigh. Sometimes I think way too much.

Sometimes weekends you intend to be relaxing become stir-crazy. You don’t have a lot going on, but enough so that it’s not a total nothing weekend. Then it starts raining. The water’s been coming down in puddles, steady and slow. Enough to get you wet, but not enough to be an energizing storm. Not light enough to want to take a walk, just the right amount to be a nuissance.

It really dampens the weekend. By Sunday evening you have no drive or energy to get going and do something. You feel sapped. Responsibility will return in 12 hours, so you don’t want to be responsible. You want to do nothing, but nothing doesn’t present itself. Many Sunday evenings we end up at Target, wandering the aisles and shopping for nothing as an activity.

I hate that stir-crazy feeling. It makes me want to spend money, wildly and uninhibited, as if that will ease the feeling. Movies, electronics, restaurants, food. Somehow I think any of those will make me feel better. In general I think I have a major weakness for comfort food. I think munching can make all things better. It’s a wonder I don’t have a weight problem.

Today I thought a Nintendo would be a nice solution to the stir-crazy feeling. That caged in, lack of responsible feeling demands doing something, something not necessarily productive, yet not totally wasteful. Not sitting on the couch drooling in front of the TV passive, but maybe moving an electronic character across the screen and lining up crystals and fruit will do the trick. That’s what I thought tonight anyway. A little $150 solution.

Stir crazy Sundays. They’re about as annoying as writing this entry, probably as annoying as reading it.

A million frustrations crowd my mind like expanding popcorn kernels in a bag of microwave popcorn–all when my mind is supposed to empty of me and lift up praise to God above. I try to sing the words of the songs, but they seem empty and hollow. The next thing I know my lips are singing the words and my mind is contemplating the best time to reinstall the operating system on my computer. I’ll only have my high speed network connection for so much longer, so I should do it soon while it’s still easy to download programs from the internet. This summer I should have lots of time. I should probably buy some more zip disks so I can back everything up. That could be expensive. Maybe I can clean up the zip disks I have and condense my files. That one disk is full of stuff from the old computer–I should be able to delete everything on there. All the while a thousand voices are echoing in worship to God. I try to focus, I try to empty my head of these crowding thoughts, but it doesn’t work. We sing another song and I think of a band and a concert long ago. That triggers another memory that reminds me of another band who may soon be breaking up. I should be sure I get to their final few shows. Back to the first band, and I realize I haven’t visited their web page in a while. I wonder if they’re on tour right now? All the while someone is reading about the Israelites and how God didn’t want their offerings and sacrifices given for the sake of offerings and sacrifices. He wanted the people. Maybe I shouldn’t be here. A thousand more thoughts crowd in and I succumb to the insanity. Is this what it’s like to be a product of the sound-byte generation?

Life is full of windows. The flowers we commandeered from Tim & Nicole’s wedding are drooping and wilting. Their window of perceived beauty is closing.

It’s 90 degrees outside now. Summer’s trying to sneak in the open window.

It’s 5:30 and my unmotivated, late-starting day is coming to an end. I’m not sure if I crammed enough into the working hours, but I feel like I did, so that’s OK, right?

Let’s face it: I’m avoiding work. I’m in the midst of a very busy time, but also a time when you want to throw responsibility to the wind and hang out with your friends. Tim gets married tomorrow, and the festivities have already begun. There’s an all afternoon picnic/groom’s dinner today and then the rehearsal. Right now it’s 10:20 on a Saturday morning, and despite my hopes to get up and do some work, I’m sitting on the computer typing in my pajamas.

I’ve learned that the biggest downside to my office set up is the lack of a door. Normally this isn’t a problem, since Speak doesn’t make much noise. But friends have been coming into town for the wedding and staying at our place, which means it’s not such a quiet workspace anymore. And who wants to work when you’ve got friends downstairs you haven’t seen in a year?

We actually have three guests staying in our house right now, and if you’ve ever seen our house, you realize how impressive that is. Tim, of course, has been staying here since January. But tonight is probably his last night (I can’t imagine why he’d want to stay here after the wedding). My old roommate and east coast buddy Andy is also staying here. He’s crashing on the floor in Tim’s room. And yesterday one of Tim’s friends from Yale, Dawn, arrived and we made room on the couch.

Amazingly five people and one bathroom wasn’t a big deal this morning. Everyone had a staggered schedule so there wasn’t much fighting for the bathroom. Of course I was the last one up and now I’m home alone and still in my pajamas. Theoretically I have a quiet hour or two to get some work done, but I can’t seem to get to it. The introspective side of my brain needs to process everything that’s going on.

It’s fun having Andy around again. As we left the airport he remarked how easy it is to slip back into the way things were, as if he’d never left. I quickly felt that over the next day or so as we went about our business, finding food, playing with the dog, telling stories, doing whatever we do. I don’t know if it’s a bad thing that we so easily feel like Andy never left — I see the up side of a close friendship that can survive time and distance. I also see a down side of a friendship that doesn’t necessarily see the change that happens in that time and distance. You can’t go home again, and at some point you can’t go back to college either.

But however that goes down, it’s fun hanging out with Andy again. I saw the beginnings of his upcoming web site, which means the possibility of Andy joining our little circle of blogging freaks.

Last night we gathered some of the old crew again: Andy, Lance, Neals, Abby, myself, as well as some new faces, Lance’s girlfriend Tara and Tim’s friend Dawn. For dinner we joined up with several of Tara’s friends at an Ethiopian place (sans Neals, who was still driving home from Duluth). It was an odd mix of people, part of an old Bethel clan on one end and several of Tara’s friends on the other. Andy had just met Tara, Dawn had just met all of us, and none of us knew Tara’s friends. We pretty much kept at our ends of the tables, not even bothering with introductions. I think we all realized there were too many circles coming together, and they weren’t likely to cross again. Probably a rude and lazy reaction to the social situation, but that’s what happened. It must have been awkward for Tara, the only one who could really bridge the gap between the two circles.

Despite my initial protests, I survived the Ethiopian food. We basically shared a sampler platter of a dozen different dishes. If you haven’t had Ethiopian food before, you basically take a tasteless pancake-type sponge flat bread and use it to scoop morsels of mushy stuff. Nothing struck me as gross, but I didn’t have any favorites either. I tried everything and was more or less eating for sustanence, not flavor.

After the food we abandoned circles and headed back to Tara’s place, where Neals joined us in a game of Scattergories. Good times.

And as I type, Jeremy calls, another college roommate who emmigrated to the west coast. Far-flung freaks still flock together.

It’s still quiet around here, eerily so. Tim and Dawn left to hang out with some east coast friends. Andy went out to breakfast with his brother and sister (amazing that 3 out of 4 siblings of an east coast family are all in the same midwestern state the same weekend). Abby and Speak went to dog class.

I think that’s what really makes it quiet. Speak isn’t here. You don’t realize the companionship a pet brings until they’re gone. Despite his less than joyful habits, I like Speak. I like having a dog, a lot more than I thought I would. Though I don’t enjoy Speak-proofing my yard. He escaped the other day, prompting a trip to Home Depot and some ghetto-izing of our yard. The flopping, drooping, crappy gate across our driveway is now even crappier — if that’s even possible.

I’m looking forward to hanging out today and tomorrow, ignoring responsibility and celebrating with friends. Weddings are these odd little events where everyone launches into a tizzy, and really we’re just supporting our friends. We’re affirming and celebrating their decision to get married, to start a life together, to commit to each other. We bring more stress and pomp and circumstance and expectations than we need to. It’s usually over before you know it.

The sad thing about weddings is the bride and groom invite all these people to share their day with, and they usually have minimal time to spend with those people. Some of my extended family traveled to Green Bay for my wedding, and I hardly had time to talk with them. They endured sickness and turbulance for 15 minutes with me and watched the rest from afar. Several friends from Michigan ventured out (I asked them to be in the wedding, a great way to ensure they make it), and I managed a late night table-talk discussion. I seem to remember playing cards, but I don’t remember. And of course my college friends made it, but I’d see them again shortly. I probably spent the most time with them, buoying me up in the crazy times. My best memory is killing the few hours before we had to be at the church by bumming around Green Bay. We checked out the Packers Hall of Fame gift shop (too cheap to go in) and took pictures outside. Then we went to the mall’s food court for a bite to eat before heading to the church. Simple and unplanned, but a lot of fun. Of course Abby was at the church all day dealing with hair and make up and mothers, so maybe I shouldn’t revel too much in my relaxing afternoon.

But it’s really about those two people, saying we do, and everyone being there with them to cheer them on, whether or not those two people have any time or sanity left to say hello. That’s really the point: this day is about them, and they’re going to spend that first day together. You may be a guest, but that term doesn’t do your role justice. You’re more like the crowd of witnesses and less like the pampered guest of honor.

I don’t know what I’m saying, but I’ve probably avoided enough work.