Growing

I thought I was done with Greek in my life. And then they sucked me into tutoring...

I stopped growing when I was in middle school.

I'm about average height, so to be a 13 year old at this height meant I was huge.

We bought everything too big. Sadly, I never met my expectations when it came to those things. I was supposed to be at least 6 feet tall. I didn't think that was too much to ask. Apparently I shouldn't have asked to be a reasonable weight, either, because I've probably only lost weight since then.

Thankfully, though, my mind and heart didn't stop growing with my body. Though I may appear relatively the same in stature (except for the beard), I'm not who I was 8 years ago. I'm not even remotely who I was, and I only have Jesus to thank for that.

We shared our 'stories' for the last couple of weeks in one of my classes. And you know, I have a lot of stories. I have a lot of experiences that I could've talked about that I've grown from. I was born sick. Physically sick. Spiritually sick. For a large majority of my life, I've been fatherless, and I haven't known any better.

But these stories are no good if I haven't grown. I can't imagine what it would have been like to share with my classmates that I am who I was 8 years ago. And, if you think about it, that was just the blink of an eye. I can't imagine what I'll be like in another 8 years. Or even in 80. But I hope for this: that I keep growing. Because to be the same person I am now would be a defeat of the largest kind.

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Just five minutes alone with your thoughts. Hop on over to The Gypsy Mama and try it out!

Compassion

As of today, our college town finally has a real donut shop. Finally.

One of the lamest ways to begin any speech, sermon, or blog post is with a definition from a dictionary.

Please allow me to be momentarily lame. And thanks for your forgiveness in advance.

There's a word I want to define for you, something that I think is very important to understand. Something that very few of us remember on a consistent basis:

Compassion.

According to my very official source of Dictionary.com, here's the definition of compassion: 

1. a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.

What's interesting to me is the way that this definition seems to fall into two pieces. The first piece sounds an awful lot like empathy, but includes the word sympathy, so I suppose it's different. The first piece of compassion includes a feeling.

Personally, I don't place much stock in feelings. Feelings can happen for any number of reasons, including (but not limited to!) a change in weather, hormones, or a bad pasta bowl from Olive Garden. Feelings are just that: something you feel. Nothing more. Not much else to them.

Now, granted, there's probably a little more to them than I am letting on, but I'm biased. But in my heart of hearts, I believe that any feelings not accompanied by action are hogwash. They're nonsense. They mean nothing.

And that's why I like the second part of this definition. True compassion is not only a feeling, but a desire. And while many would classify desires as feelings, I believe there's something more to desire.

Desire is craving. If you desire something, it means you want and sometimes even need something. Your heart and mind are telling you that you are lacking something, even if you really aren't. And more often than not, desire leads to my favorite result: action.

It Really Doesn't Matter

This post is part of my weekly Time for Honesty. I do my best to share something that's on my heart that is honest, sincere, and transparent - something that will get you thinking and get you to be honest with yourself.

One of the most interesting aspects of my life is something I rarely blog about: attending a Christian college.

Our school is very, very small - it averages about 330 students each year, which is less than my graduating class in high school. Having been in public school my entire life, it's a different environment for me. Everyone around here is either from some farm-town in Western Kansas, was home-schooled, or lives in areas of their hometown that I can't even afford to think about.

It's a weird dynamic to experience for four years.

I've been reluctant to write about MCC (Manhattan Christian College) for many reasons.

First of all, it really just isn't that interesting to me. There's a lot more to life than school. And although I'm pretty "good" at school, it doesn't top out my priority list.

Mostly, though, I haven't written about my school because I'm scared to hear from people who are hyper-apologists of sorts for our micro-community. Truth be told, there are people that don't want a negative word to leak concerning the school, for fear of losing something (though I'm not really sure what).

I'm still not really here to write about the negatives of my school, either. Maybe later. Much later. As in when I'm in graduate school later. But for now, I just want to share something interesting with you that I discovered last night:

All that I've learned at this Christian college is that I don't care about most of the stuff we have to learn about to get our Bible degree.

Now granted, that's a pretty sweeping statement, so allow me to narrow it down for you with a story.

Last night, we had a friend over who stops by on occasion - we love having her over. After dinner was done sinking to the bottom of our stomachs, she started talking with my wife about the Bible and about not knowing a lot of stuff about it.

My wife, being the genius that she is, told her that Bible college is good to help with that, and gave her the example of different views of Creation. She rattled off the basics of Young-Earth Creationism, Old-Earth Creationism, and the Literary Framework viewpoint. I was impressed with how well Kalyn articulated each view, but then our friend asked us where we stood on the issue.

After thousands of dollars, a dozen Bible classes, and three years of college, this is our shared view on that specific matter. You might want to get your pencils out to take notes, because it's a doozy. Here it is:

It really doesn't matter.

Say whaaaaaaaaaat?!

Okay, okay, back up. Hold up. Pause. Stop, collaborate, and listen (okay, maybe that's a little too far).

In three years of debates, struggles, studies, and "building relationships" (because that's what MCC is "all about"), that is our conclusion about most things that people bring up about Christianity and the Bible.

It really doesn't matter.

I'm just going to go on record as saying that we paid entirely too much money for such a simple answer.

I mean, maybe we've failed as Christian college students, but something tells me we haven't. You see, there's a lot of reasoning behind our conclusion. I won't bore you with the details (unless you e-mail me and ask, in which case, I'd be glad to!), but suffice it to say, there's one main reason that brings me to the conclusion I'm at with this stuff:

If it does not help me to love people more, it really does not matter.

The end. Period. That's my bottom-line. I came to MCC for a number of reasons, but I'm leaving with only one: love. Not knowledge. Not because of my degree. Not to use the skills I've learned. I'm leaving in a year because I want to love people that I don't know. I want to love people that I don't understand. I want to love people that disagree with me.

And I don't just mean a "I have to love them, not like them" sort of attitude. I really want to love people. God's equipped me especially for that, and it's what I want to do.

Arguing about Creationism? Well, unless you're pretty creative, there are very few ways that you can love someone through that.

So for now, I let the arguments rest. Chances are, when we're all dead and gone and chatting up God, we'll find out we were completely wrong about almost everything, anyway. And at that point, I don't think I'll care, so why should I now?

Question: What is something that you struggle with that keeps you from loving others?

Continuing in Simplicity

I started asking for recommendations for a Master's program yesterday. I don't wanna grow up!

Have I ever told you that I'm thankful for you? Because I am.

I'm beyond thrilled to have the opportunity to share this space with some very wonderful people. Without you, it wouldn't be worth it.

That, though, has nothing to do with my post today. I just wanted to let you know!

Instead of jabbering on today, I want to, once more, keep it simple.

I didn't really mean to make this a semi-regular thing, but I love hearing your thoughts and getting to know you. It's important to me!

So here's the deal. One simple question. To prod your mind. To get you thinking. So I can know you a little better, and maybe you can know yourself a little better, too.

Today's question?

Do you prefer prayer or solitude, and why do you think that's the case?

Simple enough. No ifs ands or buts about it. Just answer the question in the comments section with however you perceive it, regardless of how you feel. I'll be answering there at some point today as well, just so you know!

Keep it simple, my friends.

Is Construction Ever Complete?

I’m trying my hand at writing this blog post with Windows Live Writer, thanks to Rage Against the Minivan. Here’s to hoping that nothing explodes in the process.

Not too long ago, I wrote a post about getting old and one of my friends left me a comment that I agreed with whole-heartedly:

“I'm totally from the If It Ain't Broke Don't Fix It school of thought.”

And I thought to myself, “As am I, Amy. As am I.”

Turns out that I might be wrong. Don’t tell my wife.

Here’s the evidence. You be the jury:

Exhibit A:
My aching desire to “update” Life Before the Bucket, whether that’s through a new layout or a new domain name. I’d like to think it’s “broken”, because I'd always like more people to be reading, but in reality, everything is fine and dandy around here. And if it weren’t, I suspect that you might tell me.

Exhibit B:
My compulsive desire to perfect my father-in-law’s website for his new business, New Hope Therapy. As far as I can tell, everything seems to be in tip-top shape over there. However, I always feel like there’s something more that can be done. A little something to be improved. And trust me, I’m open to any opinions or questions you might have about that site.

Exhibit C:
Only because I was made to tell the “whole truth and nothing but the truth.” Oh, wait… I wasn’t? I guess I’ll confess my sin to you anyway: I’m a compulsive hair checker. 

As far as I can tell, my hair serves something like two purposes. Purpose A was to aid in wooing my wife. Check. And Purpose B is, I think, just to fall out, because even my dad was mostly bald by the time he passed away.

For some reason, I still compulsively check it. I even just touched it as I typed it, and I do this because I get nervous that some hair might be out of place or I might be sporting a nice cow-lick without anyone telling me. Even though my hair is serving its purpose, I always want to make it better.

So what’s your verdict? Still believe that I’m old-school in that I don’t want to fix things that aren’t broken? Because lately, my mind has been changed. If I'm capable of improving something that could work better and I don’t, it might as well be broken.

I’m still torn on the issue at times, especially when it comes to road construction, but that’s another rant for another day…

Question: Do you think it is a positive thing to always be striving for improvement? Or do you think that we often lack the ability to be content with what we have? Should we be? Which is the lesser of two evils, or the better of two good?

Joy

Learned a new formula today: a spoon of pumpkin + a Pumpkin Spice K-Cup = pumpkin pie coffee. Great discovery, indeed.

Joy is confusing, really.

Few of us really understand it, myself included. Is it happiness? Why don't we just call it that?

Or is it something deeper? Something less circumstantial. Something more fulfilling, less fleeting. Joy seems to be elusive for most, and yet, it is evident when it is present in others.

So what is it? Where does it come from?

In my mind, joy is a derivative of hope. Without hope, you cannot have joy. And sure, hope might seem circumstantial, but not true hope. If you have true hope within you, it never disappears. It isn't contingent on whether or not you pass a class, get a certain degree, or find a certain job. It doesn't need people to like you or to support you, and it doesn't need you to be successful or famous.

Indeed, joy is hard to come by, because true hope is hard to come by. It seems elusive. It appears fleeting.

Where is your hope? And is it true? Or is it merely a shadow of what could be? Do you find your hope waning with your bank account? Or is it dependent on something that never changes.

Think. Reflect. Wonder. If only for 5 minutes, consider whether your hope is true. Then you will see why your joy fades. Why it only seems like happiness, veiled by a mask of something greater.

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These are my Five Minute thoughts, unedited, unadulterated, unprepared, for this Friday. Check out The Gypsy Mama if you want to know more!

Digging through the Bucket: Who Are You?

Alright, ladies and gentlemen, Bucketeers of all ages. This post is for you. I found it while going over some old posts and was surprised at what I learned last time I did this, so here I am again. If you answered these questions last time around, feel free just to give me a brief update on where life is taking you right now! Enjoy!

I've got a question for you:

Do you like questions?

If you don't, I apologize for asking.

If you do, then this is the blog post for you!

Here's the dealio: I really want to get to know you guys. I want an idea of who my faithful Bucketeers are and what they're like. Right now, I sort of feel like I've been shoved on a stage that is illuminated by blinding lights, and I don't recognize a single person in the crowd. It's kind of sad, really.

In order to get to know you a little better, I just have a few questions for you. And because I would never ask you to do something I wouldn't, I'll answer them for you as well.

Q is for Quirks

This post is part of my weekly Time for Honesty. I do my best to share something that's on my heart that is honest, sincere, and transparent - something that will get you thinking and get you to be honest with yourself.

I love being introspective and taking a look at what's going on inside my heart. Heck, I even enjoy bearing those things to the world for all to see on days like this, when I'm trying to be a little more honest with myself and others.

I think I definitely did that yesterday, though.

So instead of being introspective, I want to be... Well, some other word ending in "spective" that probably doesn't exist.

In order to be a little more honest with you and with myself, I don't want to bear my heart. I want to bear a few quirky pieces of who I am. As in, if you were my wife, these are the things you'd probably make fun of me for.

A Longing for Fatherhood

Keurig status update: currently in Topeka, 45 minutes away. Wish they would just let me pick it up!

A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of spending time with someone I care about very deeply.

I can't tell you her name, because it's complicated, but I can tell you about her (and I've been dying to do that).

This girl, she's about 5 years old. She's beautiful. She is usually high on energy and loves to talk. She loves playing, climbing trees, and putting together puzzles. In fact, she might even end up being smarter than me.

This girl isn't able to receive love from her parents on a regular basis. They don't have that right anymore. But she has her grandparents, and they love her well enough. They just weren't expecting to go through the parenting motions at this point in their lives.

Last time we visited this girl, we wanted to take her home with us. To let her know that she's loved. To prove to her that she has a home.

Instead (because kidnapping is frowned upon around here), we settled for having lunch with her, playing games, putting together a puzzle, and climbing trees.

A (Not So) Random Act of Kindness

We threw away my Keurig yesterday. I've been in mourning ever since. And praying for this FedEx guy to teleport here with my new one...

Yesterday was 9/11, which was a pretty big deal.

We all have a story. We all hurt that day. And yesterday, we remembered.

Today, though, is September 12th. Do you remember that feeling? When the world wouldn't stop turning because so many people were hurting? When the world was suddenly flipped upside down? 

Today's that day.

Many people prayed on this day 10 years ago. Many people donated funds. Others traveled to New York City to help with disaster relief. On September 12th, people began to climb out of their holes and come together - to help one another. Their acts of kindness really weren't so random.

This is their van, floating away.

Today, ten years later, remembering the difference that such acts made, I have a challenge for you. You can make a difference today. A real, tangible difference.

There is a family I've heard about who needs your help. They're the Martins, and they live in Pennsylvania. They recently lost just about everything they own in a flood. And they didn't have flood insurance on their home, because nothing like this has ever happened before.

It's time to perform a not-so-random act of kindness.

Hop on over to this blog created to help the Martins. Pray for them. Leave some encouraging comments. And if you want to get crazy, actually donate something their way - they need our help.

I don't care what guise you use for helping. You could do it for God, for the Martins, for yourself. I simply don't care. What matters here is making a difference in the lives of these people. And though most of you are many states away, you can help. 

So, one more time. You. Me. Helping the Martins.

Now.

In Real Life

I'm finally laying my Keurig to rest... and they're sending me a new one for free!

Today, I'm going to be a little more narrowly focused. Because some stuff is riding on my heart, and I want to let it loose in these five minutes. Because I hope that at least someone will read these words and let them ride on their own heart.

In real life, people are hurting. We lose jobs, face death, have bad days, and get bad grades. We hurt.

In real life, those who are hurting simply long for someone to care. Someone to listen as we ramble on about how lame our boss is, how illogical our school is, or how we're having a bad hair day.

In real life, people don't just want you to build relationships with them so that anything. I'm learning right now to build relationships so that I can evangelize. Except I'm not sure about that premise.

Because in real life, people want relationships simply because of the fact that they care about someone. Not because the relationship is the means to an end. Even if it is an end as glorious as knowing and loving God.

I want to love people and build relationships with them because I care about them and do genuinely love them. Because that's how real life works. Not because the newest evangelistic "strategy" tells me that the only "effective" way to reach people is to love them (and if by "reach," you mean bring them to church to increase attendance numbers).

In real life, it just doesn't work that way.

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Today's post was a part of The Gypsy Mama's Five Minute Friday.

Story Time!

Blogging instead of doing homework... Uh oh. I might have a problem here...

I have a pretty sweet story I want to tell you guys.

It happened just last week, actually.

Except it was in the middle of the night. Sort of. Like, halfway.

The first part of the story did happen at night. 12:30 AM, to be exact. And though my wife definitely has a different perspective on what happened that night, I couldn't pay her to post on here, so you're stuck with me.

About a week ago, I woke up randomly in the middle of the night. For starters, I wasn't sleeping well that night (which happens sometimes, especially when I get frustrated with my oxygen tubes). As I woke up, I heard something, like a hammer. I figured it was some construction down the street, so I ignored it and tried my best to fall asleep.

And then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, the hammer landed. On our bedroom window.

Okay, okay. So this is this story could go two ways at this point:

A: The hammer landed, our window shattered, and I had to take down some stupid burglars who actually thought we had something worth stealing.

or

B: It was our neighbor, knocking profusely on our window. Nothing broke, and I still didn't move.

I'd like to think that the truth lies somewhere in between, but we both know that isn't true.

So, eventually, because I was lifeless, my wonderful wife got up and answered our door for whoever was knocking (the "hammer" I heard "down the street"). Meanwhile, I'm still lying motionless in our bed, because that's what I do when I'm tired, ya know? (I know - "Lamest Husband Ever" award right here). 

Turns out that maintenance thinks our bathroom is flooded because there is a leak downstairs in our neighbor's apartment. They intrude and investigate, making all kinds of noise and turning on all kinds of light, just to leave without telling us anything (or shutting off any lights). Turns out our bathroom was as dry as the Sahara, which apparently was disappointing to them.


What I didn't know was that this was a sign of things to come...

The next day, we both woke up a little irritated that we had lost sleep, but we managed. My wife went to wash her hands (or something like that), and all of a sudden, I hear some yelling that I figure is directed toward me...

We had no water.

Well, poop. I mean, well... let's not even go there.

So, to make a long story short, we went without running water for the day. It reminded me faintly of Sierra Leone, except for the part where I could walk down the street and take a shower in the dorms if I wanted to.

Mostly, though, it reminded me of how a lot of people have to live. Many, many people in the world don't even have access to clean water, let alone clean water that runs. 884 million people, to be exact.

So, because I spent a day without water, I want to plug one of my favorite charities (I know, it's so logical, right?): Active Water.

I won't drone on about the awesome work that they do, because I want you to check it out for yourself. But I am writing this so that you'll remember them next time you're looking for a way to make a difference in this world.

Question: Your turn! What's an organization you're aware of that does work worth investing in?

Traveling Thoughts

Couldn't ask for better weather outside. Enjoying this while it lasts!

Alrighty, fellow Bucketeers, here's the deal.

Darci, over at Page Traveler Tales, rented out her blog space to me for the day... for free!

Wasn't that nice of her?

So hop on over there to check out a special guest post I wrote for her and to see all of the other stuff she's written as well! Don't leave me hanging!

K.I.S.S, Part Dos

I saw The Dark Knight for about the 100th time yesterday, and I still love that movie.

Ah, it's one of those days. A Monday that's disguised as a Tuesday. Tricky, tricky stuff.

On account of this, I want to keep today's post short, simple, and sweet.

First of all, I'd love it if you checked out yesterday's post because I forgot it was Labor Day and didn't just post something that said, "Happy Labor Day - I'm too lazy to blog!"

Secondly, since we all know that today is really Monday, I want to present you with our second edition of...

Keep it Simple, Stupid.

(No worries - "Stupid" here refers to me, mostly.)

So, just like last time, this post is easy. Easy for you. Easy for me.

Just one question for you to consider today:

What worries you most in life and why?

That's it. Simple as that.

Think, reflect, answer.

Looking forward to hearing from you!

On Being Fair

I was just thinking about Daylight Savings Time yesterday and how much I loathe it...

A few days ago, my wonderful wife went to the laundromat. She's a brave soul, to say the least. I guess she doesn't want us smelling like skunks at school, though, so it makes sense. And because she was busy making sure nobody stole our clothes, I was left alone to run some errands.

The first thing you need to know in this situation is that the idea of me "running errands" (a.k.a. going to the store) is a terrible idea. I don't know my right from my left at the store. My wife does all of the shopping and does a mighty fine job at it. Why mess with a good thing?

In this case, though, desperate times called for desperate measures. You see, I ran out of coffee Friday morning. And although my wonderful wife brought me a cup from the Kwikshop down the street, that wasn't going to cut it past that morning. I can't help it - I tend to be a coffee snob most days.

So I braved the journey to Dillon's, where I proceeded to walk to the wrong end of the store for the coffee. After finding my way back to the aisle of liquid gold, I started searching high and low. For what? you might be asking. Well, you see, coffee buying is an art. It takes time, precision, a good eye, and patience. Okay, so maybe it's not that difficult - I just make it that hard.

Seriously, though, I did have to look pretty hard for some coffee that I could purchase. You see, Goal #62 on my 111 in 2011 demands that I look high and low: I'm only supposed to buy Fair Trade coffee this year.

So what's the big deal with Fair Trade? Well, think of it this way...

I have something I want to sell that I've hand-crafted. Let's say I built a time machine and I'm trying to sell it (YES!). I search high and low for people to buy my time machine, and since I'm ignorant of the market for such things, I latch on to the first buyer I can find. The company offers me what seems like a pretty fair price, so I take it, happy to have made a few dollars so I can feed my family.

In the process, I think this whole time machine business might actually be viable, so I decide to build another. Except it seems like, oddly enough, that I have even less money than I did before after I finish building my second time machine. Something isn't quite adding up here...

But I sell the second one to the first buyer because, once again, I need to feed my family. And again, I go to build another time machine with even less money.

So maybe the time machine example is a bit outrageous. But you get the point. If I build time machines, but have no way to know how much they're selling for, I have no leverage. And frankly, putting food on the table for my family is much more important to me than anything else, so I'll take any offer I can get for those things. People can take advantage of my family and me without me ever knowing.

This is where Fair Trade comes into the mix. If I decided to begin participating in Fair Trade time machine building, I would be given a reasonable, sustainable offer on the work that I do. There's a global standard set so that people can't rip me off. This allows my business to become more sustainable while allowing me to feed my family. Heck, this might even let me send one of my kids to school this year instead of staying home to help out with those wretched machines!

Per the Fair Trade USA website:

Most small-scale coffee farmers live in remote locations and typically have no access to the world market, nor knowledge of trends in their industry. Farmers often sell their coffee at a fraction of its worth, which leaves them unable to invest in sustainable farming methods and forces them to lean heavily on their own children of help. When children are required to work, instead of going to school, the cycle of poverty perpetuates.

Now I realize that counter-arguments exist. And I don't have answers for all of them. But here's what I do know:

• I'm one the richest people in the world.

• With great power, comes great responsibility.

• Thus, I must consciously choose to be responsible with every dollar I spend, because every dollar is a vote for something. If I am lax in my responsibility as someone with such great power in this world, somebody will be impacted, and most likely not for the positive.

My line of reasoning may seem futile to some, but I believe that true change begins with one person. If I, as on person, choose to vote with every dollar that I spend, instead of passively spending and hoping everything turns out alright, change will eventually come. I believe that choosing to spend my money responsibly is better than choosing to ignore my responsibility. Especially as someone whose belief system says to care for the poor and the oppressed.

Now I'm not really one to beg, but I'd ask you to at least consider what I'm talking about here. Consider what you're voting for with every dollar you spend. Consider the impact of your spending habits. Consider the fact that you could effect positive change in the lives of others simply by being more aware of the products you choose to buy.

Here are a couple of resources to help you in this:
Better World Shopper 
Fair Trade USA 

Question(s): What do you think about the idea that every dollar you spend is a vote? Have you ever considered responsibility in your spending habits? What's something tangible that you can do this month to spend your money more responsibly?

Rest

I completely forgot to buy more coffee for the morning, so my wonderful wife is grabbing me a cup during her run. Gotta love her!

These past two weeks have been some of the most tiresome of my life. Whether because of illness or simply not being used to school, I've needed to rest every day.

It's so interesting to me how we often associate rest with sleep. I think we really miss something when we do this. If the only resting we achieve happens while we're mostly unconscious, then no true rest actually occurs.

No, resting is much more than sleeping. Resting requires intentionality and purposefulness. If we do not choose to rest, we never will. And as a result, we will often be much less than what we could be.

It's no surprise to me that God commands rest throughout Scripture. He himself rested after all of creation was set into motion. And though I don't fully understand what God's rest means, I know that if he rested in his own personal way after doing work, I need to do the same.

It's so difficult to slow down, though. To stop doing and simply be. And yet that's our school's theme for the year. To be, not do. We need to be at rest from time to time if we ever hope to do anything worthwhile.

And so, because I need to rest, I write for five minutes. No more, no less. Because I need to be deliberate about resting, about enjoying, about being. Being closer to God and becoming closer to the well-rested man that God desires me to be.

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And that, my friends, is my Five Minute Friday, courtesy of The Gypsy Mama.

Question: How do you plan on truly resting this weekend?

I'm Getting Old

Alright, I'm not usually one to go on about the weather, but this heat is getting a bit out of control. I thought hurricanes were supposed to cool down the country, not cause a heat stroke!

I've come to a sad realization over the last couple of weeks as school has started: 

I'm getting old, people.

Yeah, yeah. I know. You're probably scrambling, trying to figure out my age so you can decide if I'm crazy. And I'll just help you out here. I'm all of 21 years old. 21 and a half, if we want to get technical.

And sadly, I'm starting to feel old. Why? Well there's a ridiculous number of possibilities.

Possibility #1: I start my day before the sun comes up, which can mean rising from anytime between 4 AM to 6 AM. Around a college town, those are the "forbidden hours." You're only awake because some demented teacher actually wants to push you to learn and grow and actually get something from your $60,000 education. Or because you took a No-Doz a little too late.

Possibility #2: My ridiculously early day doesn't start without coffee. Even today, when my apartment feels like a furnace. If I don't get my coffee (or some ample substitute, for instance, chocolate milk), then please understand why there's a permanent scowl on my face throughout the day.

Possibility #3: If we're going to be obvious here, my lungs are old and decrepit. I do believe my last lung function test described my "Lung Age" as ">84 years old." Ouch.

None of these, though, really make me feel old. I like to think these things make me "unique."

No, it's not until I went to write this blog post that I started to feel old. And then Blogger had to go and say, "Hey, do you want to try out our new interface?" And of course I was curious, so I checked it out.

My first thought?

Why the crap does all this new-fangled stuff keep coming out and all my beloved old stuff keep changing?!

The first indicator of my early-onset old age would probably have to be my unnecessary use of the word "new-fangled." But beyond that...

Seriously, I just can't keep up with everything new! 

First off, it's a new school year. New classes. New teachers. To boot, we have a new system to manage our online classes, which is much more painful as a work-study than as a student. This is followed by other new programs, like Spotify or Google Plus. Or old, reliable programs, like Facebook or Blogger, changing themselves around to look new.

And it's only the second week of school!

So, sadly, I feel myself aging. My initial reaction is frustration, because my heart longs for things to remain where they are. My mind is simply searching for a constant, something, anything that won't change in this world. And frankly, nothing can be found.

So I guess I'm already getting old. In ten or twenty years, I can't even imagine what things are going to be like. I suppose I should probably learn to let go and keep learning. But it's stinking hard.

And gosh darn it, isn't life hard enough without Facebook changing every 2 weeks?!

Question: Have you noticed this trend in your own life? Do you sometimes miss "the way things were?" How have you learned to move on?