Inadequacy is the spice of life. Someone speculated today that feelings of inadequacy are a good indication that you’re doing the right thing. If you feel thoroughly adequate, than you’re not being pushed, you’re not growing, you’re not moving forward. You’re stagnant, and that’s no place to be. So embrace your inadequacy, and know that you’re [hopefully] improving.

Sometimes you’ve got to make a decision and stick with it. You’ve got to realize that there will be ups and downs no matter what you do. You’ve got to realize that you can’t weigh and balance all the options and come up with the perfect solution. You’ve just got to go one way or the other. You’ve got to take stock of what matters in your life, and go with what seems best. That’s never easy. But it’s life. Sometimes it means bearing some difficult burdens. It doesn’t mean everything will work out rosy and happy. But that’s also life. Sometimes shit happens. And sometimes it doesn’t

We’re selfish enough to think the world revolves around us. My opinion is right and true, and I’m too thick-headed or blind or smart to even consider the other possibilities. I have the truth, and my truth is the only way it is. Unfortunately, the world can be more complicated than that. Not everything is black and white.

There are multiple sides to every issue, but we’re so focused on only seeing it our way. Then we accuse everyone else of being misled and misinformed, when we’re just as confused. We see only the sides of the issue that help our cause, we taint what we say and we hear what we want. Then we claim the other side is disillusioned, when in reality, we’re all led astray. None of us really knows what’s going on.

The world is too complicated to be boiled down to a protest poster. It’s not all about blood for oil, and it’s not all about liberating Iraq. We do a disservice to our brothers when refuse to consider the multifaceted world we live in.

Debate becomes impossible when we refuse to be open-minded. We’re too stubborn to admit that maybe we’re wrong, maybe we’re being misled, maybe we don’t know it all. Sometimes it’s just easier to be stubborn and angry and carry your heart on your sleeve. Coming up with real solutions and real compromise and real results is so much harder. It’s just easier to be a voice of dissent, and opt out–or to just go along with the crowd and wear your ribbon like everyone else. Either way we’re refusing to acknowledge that things are more complicated. There’s a space in the middle. It’s not any more right or wrong, it just acknowledges so much more. I’m certainly not there, but I wish I could be.

Why why why. That’s my chorus lately. That’s always the question, isn’t it? Or when. Or how. Or even what. I suppose I’m wondering that now as well. What am I supposed to be doing? Some days your job is in the toilet and you’re looking for something else and nothing is coming. Some days happen more often than others.

And some days I want to start a commune. Maybe stay home and make money off the Internet. Because that works. Or maybe I’ll write a book and all my money woes will disappear. That’s how it works, right? I’ve got one shot, one chance, I’ve got to do it myself and make it happen. It worked for Eminem, right? Somehow I don’t think so.

It can’t be that simple. It can’t be that easy. Or maybe it is and I just don’t have the guts to try. It’s not so easy when others are relying on you, when there’s a long-term plan at stake. It’s easier to take risks when you’re on your own.

I’m just tired of business as usual. I’m tired of reading memos, of hearing rumors, of knowing how dumb things really are. Maybe I’m not always right, but I know when something is definitely wrong. The ship is sinking and I want off. There’s just nothing around but icy water, and it’s none too inviting. I don’t see the rescue ships, I don’t see the cavalry, I don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Feeling neglected? Yeah, aren’t we all.

I think it’s all about attitude. I can practically talk myself into something I don’t really like if I have the right attitude. I suppose that’s the trouble though, finding the right attitude.

I don’t understand these people who always see the bright side. I guess I’m not there yet. I’d like to be, but it’s hard to see the sun on a dreary winter morning when your muscles ache and your throat is dry. It’s so much easier to complain. Especially when you’ve been given a raw deal. But someone else’s injustice is no excuse for my own crabbiness.

Entropy is easy. Construction? Now that’s another story.

I don’t like New Year’s resolutions. The changing of the calendar never seems like a good excuse to make promises I won’t keep.

And just like that, it’s over. A life is snuffed out before it began. There’s no one to blame, no one to question, no one to answer. That’s life. It’s your cross to bear. These months of preparation and anticipation are now bittersweet. For the rest of your life they’ll be with you, reminders of what could have been, reminders that life is precious and short. It’s a nameless, faceless wonder.

To better times.

“I think children can spot a phony a mile away,” says Fred Rogers, probably the most non-phony guy on TV, the star of the show many of us watched not-so long ago: “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” Okay, so you probably don’t watch it anymore, but that show was top-notch. Mister Rogers knew we could spot a fake, so he was just himself. And because he was real, we listened. That’s a lesson we could all learn. We posted a story today on passageway.org about Mister Rogers, and it was quite the nostalgic trip for me. The best part about the article is the audio clips in the sidebar. Mister Rogers has to be slowest talking man alive. Check it out. No seriously, check it out. You should also visit Mister Rogers’ Web site. You can watch the cool “Picture Picture” video where they show you how to make crayons.

We also posted this off-beat, sketch comedy video on passageway.org today, by a comedy troupe known as HappyFunTime. The video has this odd, slapstick appeal and I just think it’s funny. You should check it out, too. (it stars the legendary Blaine Howard from the band Trace.)

And just in case you think I’m only plugging my job, I do have some deeper thoughts as well.

Why are we so influenced by what other people think? Personally I don’t think I’m a big time victim of this any more, but when I was in high school it used to matter to me a lot more. It didn’t affect me as much as some people — I would sit at my desk quietly and not change based on what other people thought. But it still bothered me. It drove a lot of what I did and how I acted or didn’t act, the simple thought of what other people thought of me. Am I cool? Am I accepted? I spent so much time worrying about how I looked or if I was making a fool of myself that I probably looked like that much more of an idiot.

Our entire society seems to be focused on impressing others and the value of others’ opinions of you. Whatever happened to your own opinion of yourself? Can’t I just be liked for being me? You go through the grocery check out line and there’s all these magazine headlines telling you how to be someone else, telling you how to impress someone else, telling you how to be cool.

Since graduating college and entering the real world I’ve shed a lot of those insecurities. I’m not quite sure how I did it, but I don’t care as much anymore what other people think. If my hair’s messed up or is not the latest style (it’s not), I’m not that concerned. Sometimes I wish I could have had this attitude in high school. I would be scared to do the smallest thing, like stand outside a classroom or ask a question because I was afraid I’d look like a dork. And it had a much bigger impact on my relationships with my classmates. Starting a conversation with someone I didn’t know very well was totally out of the question. They were too cool for me, or too stuck up or too whatever. I would slip inside my own little shell and watch the world go on around me. What a waste.

Why can’t we just accept one another for who we are, the way we are? You don’t need to impress me. Geez, as Mister Rogers says, you’re special just because you’re you. And that’s not ‘special’ in any kind of diminutive sense. You’re cool because you’re you, period.

Life tends to sneak up behind you and kick you in the butt when you’re not paying attention. My wife’s youngest sister announced her engagement this past week. I’m used to people my own age getting married, but I’m not accustomed to hearing plans for holy matrimony from people younger than me. I’ve also heard pregnancy announcements from two friends a few years older than me. No big deal, that’s to be expected. But last week one of my college roommates and his wife announced that they’re expecting a baby.

Just when you’re too busy with weekend commitments, overtime at work, bills to pay and supper to make, life happens. Sometimes I feel like I get too wrapped up in the details, like the fact that I need to take the car in for an oil change on Thursday and I should really look into consolidating some school loans, and don’t we need to go grocery shopping — the next thing you know I’ve lost sight of what’s really important.

Or I’m just getting old, however you want to look at it. Which must be really depressing for anyone older than 23 who’s reading this, and probably really funny for anyone under 23.

I haven’t been a teenager for a few years. But for some reason I decided to volunteer with them. I’m a youth group leader at my church now. It’s a small combined junior and senior high group of about 30 kids, though I’m told the number varies a lot. The numbers are in favor of the junior highers, and of course I’m working with the senior highers. Tonight there were four senior high guys. We’re going to have to work on that.

I volunteered with the youth group out of guilt. Well not really. But I did go biking with the priest (I still don’t know what to call the head of the Episcopal church: priest, pastor, reverend – whatever.) and his wife and they ever so subtly encouraged me to get involved at church. But guilt isn’t the real reason I volunteered. The priest has three services and lots of parishioners to deal with so there wasn’t any guilt tripping to speak of. I wanted to get involved in the church. I wanted to get to know people, and that doesn’t happen when you only show up on Sunday morning.

I’m not sure why I chose the youth group. Maybe it’s because I think I can still relate to teens, since I’m only 23. But then the first night I realized that I’m 9 years older than the average youth group kid. Yikes. And maybe it’s because at my job I work on a youth web site and the two fit together pretty well. But I don’t like that reason. It makes it sound like I’m using the youth group to stay hip for my job. Which isn’t true. If that were the case I’d be surveying the kids about their favorite bands and trying to promote the web site like a bad radio personality. I haven’t mentioned the site yet.

The other issue in all of this is that I’m skipping town next summer. In July 2003 my wife and I will be moving to Charlotte, North Carolina. Which means I have about ten months with this group. Not a lot of time. I guess I’m hoping some investment is better than no investment. That’s what I tell myself anyway.

Some things about being a teenager never change. There are still the quiet kids who come because their parents make them. They don’t have a lot of friends in the group, and they remind me a lot of myself. Of course it’s hard to tell, some kids can be completely different at church and at school. Some teens have lots of friends at school and none at church, so they’re quiet and reserved. Trying to get a conversation going with some of these teens is like pulling teeth. I feel like such a dork asking about school and projects and homework and after school activities just to find out what these kids do. I keep telling myself they appreciate the attention and they’re not just looking behind me for an excuse to run away.

I’m working with teens because I remember what it was like. I know that doesn’t mean anything now, their experiences will be different than my experiences. But I remember high school being hard. I remember walking into the lunch room and seeing no one to eat with. I remember putting up with these two clods for an entire semester. I was the butt of every joke, the low man on the totem pole, and I put up with it because it was better than eating by myself. I remember walking the halls and feeling so weighed down by the pressure to make friends and be cool and do this or that. I remember sitting at my desk and wishing the bell would ring so I wouldn’t feel like such a dork for sitting there and not chatting it up about boyfriends or girlfriends or sex or football or whatever. I didn’t have the clothes, I didn’t have the looks, I didn’t have the personality, I didn’t have any of what it took to make it in high school. It wasn’t like I sought those things. I knew they wouldn’t make any difference. But I still cared about them. I was so incredibly withdrawn and self-conscious. I was one of those teens who acted one way in youth group and another way in school. I didn’t intend to, it’s just that the teens at church were friendly. The teens at school were, well, teens. High school is hard. Maybe in some small way I can make it easier.