On a completely different note than my last blog post on scented dishwasher soap, this post is on on my recent productivity high: the feeling of success after a long and busy, yet still restful, Sunday...
Today, I got up early to attend worship practice. Practice went quite well - the Bible study that followed was even better. Worship was a little rough, seeing as the bass amp went out during the first song, which threw all the band members for a loop. Even so, the makeshift acoustic song (without bass, drums drown out everything else, but without either of those, electric guitar sounds out of place...) at the end of service was especially powerful. I love to see how God works through spontaneous, genuine worship. After that service, I cheerfully volunteered at another church in the café for several hours. When I got home, I burned a worship CD for a good friend; while at his house to drop it off, I helped him with his twitter background picture. I then returned home to wash my car and shower for the evening church service that I attend. I soon proceeded to pick up another good friend and drive to said service. Not only was I attentive during service, but I also managed to keep my other friend alert through various methods such as elbow jabs, light punches, and the occasional sip of burnt, decaf (A.K.A: gross and unproductive) coffee. After this successful venture, I returned home once more to resume work on my scholarship application essay while listening to music.. and blogging.
How do I feel after such a successful day? Well, ready to take on the week of course! Tomorrow is Monday, but somehow my morale is outstanding. What is the point of this post? Just to point out (Get it, point?... :P) that I would like every Sunday to be as productive and full of peace as today was (terrible writing, that last sentence, but frankly, I couldn't care less!).
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Curious things
In this day and age, almost anything will sell. People with the craziest, most pointless ideas make the most money. Maybe I could make some money if I were to go against my logical instincts and create a "product" that actually has no "productivity" (something that should really be taken into account before calling any random invention a "product")...
Take scented dishwasher soap for example. How is anyone going to smell the soap that is rinsed off of the dishes and down the drain before the dishwasher is opened? Even if the soap really did left an aromatic residue, why would anyone smell their dishes? For that matter, why would one go about eating food off a plate that tastes like soap? Generally, I do not care for enchiladas with a hint of lavender or tropical burst flavored spaghetti, but that may just be me. No matter how beautifully the soap is scented, it has no real functionality.
Don't even get me started on silly bandz...
Take scented dishwasher soap for example. How is anyone going to smell the soap that is rinsed off of the dishes and down the drain before the dishwasher is opened? Even if the soap really did left an aromatic residue, why would anyone smell their dishes? For that matter, why would one go about eating food off a plate that tastes like soap? Generally, I do not care for enchiladas with a hint of lavender or tropical burst flavored spaghetti, but that may just be me. No matter how beautifully the soap is scented, it has no real functionality.
Don't even get me started on silly bandz...
Monday, February 7, 2011
Smile! :D
I have not smiled very much today.
If you know me at all, you know that this is an extremely abnormal occurrence. The worst part is that I really have no idea why. Oh sure. I can make the usual speculations:
...I'm really focused today. I'm just tired. I had a little bit of possibly disappointing news. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. I have a headache. I'm just stressed...
But truly, I can't justify any of these excuses. All I know is that if I think about smiling, I realize that I'm not.
I know that this needs to change. I want it to change. I think I'll put on some worship music as I drive to rehearsal. Maybe I'll talk to some friends, or even treat myself to a little something sweet. Who knows... :)
If you know me at all, you know that this is an extremely abnormal occurrence. The worst part is that I really have no idea why. Oh sure. I can make the usual speculations:
...I'm really focused today. I'm just tired. I had a little bit of possibly disappointing news. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. I have a headache. I'm just stressed...
But truly, I can't justify any of these excuses. All I know is that if I think about smiling, I realize that I'm not.
I know that this needs to change. I want it to change. I think I'll put on some worship music as I drive to rehearsal. Maybe I'll talk to some friends, or even treat myself to a little something sweet. Who knows... :)
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Disappointment
Disappointment is an interesting feeling.
One moment it seems as though your day couldn't get any better... and then it doesn't. It gets worse.
Imagine, you have a hope that has taken time and effort to develop, and then one phone call later... well, it's up and disappeared on you. Not a single trace left. Nada. Zip.
It's numbing at first. I thought surely they would call back and say it was a mistake. I was so sure that my efforts would amount to something, that I would somehow be able to help myself all on my own.
Who do I blame, if anyone? With so much expectation for the success of my own efforts, the only person I can fairly blame is myself. But then, the numbness wears off, and I realize that I can't withstand any more of my own accusations. I'd break down before they got very far.
The blame game was over before it began.
After the numbness came question after question... after question. So many kept coming that I could barely think, let alone write the essay that was due the next day! How?... Why?... Can I?... Could it really?... And after every possibility was exhausted, they began all over again.
Between my wearying dismissal of questions and deliberate evasion of blame, there was no way I could endure the questions, the constant suggestions, that would surely follow my admission of failure and my selfish want of pity... In short, I did not want to talk about it. With anybody.
Contrary to what it seems, this is not a cry for pity. It is only meant as a way for me to organize my feelings and share how God has grown and upheld me. Once more, my pride got the better of me, and I was humbled. I was taught not to rely on my own ability to provide, but on God's promises for provision and calling. How can I bring the Kingdom to Earth if I allow my own abilities and confidence to supersede my faith in God?
Because of this experience, I am no longer distraught at the mention of my own failure. It merely serves as an awesome reminder for humility and an opportunity in which God can work!
One moment it seems as though your day couldn't get any better... and then it doesn't. It gets worse.
Imagine, you have a hope that has taken time and effort to develop, and then one phone call later... well, it's up and disappeared on you. Not a single trace left. Nada. Zip.
It's numbing at first. I thought surely they would call back and say it was a mistake. I was so sure that my efforts would amount to something, that I would somehow be able to help myself all on my own.
Who do I blame, if anyone? With so much expectation for the success of my own efforts, the only person I can fairly blame is myself. But then, the numbness wears off, and I realize that I can't withstand any more of my own accusations. I'd break down before they got very far.
The blame game was over before it began.
After the numbness came question after question... after question. So many kept coming that I could barely think, let alone write the essay that was due the next day! How?... Why?... Can I?... Could it really?... And after every possibility was exhausted, they began all over again.
Between my wearying dismissal of questions and deliberate evasion of blame, there was no way I could endure the questions, the constant suggestions, that would surely follow my admission of failure and my selfish want of pity... In short, I did not want to talk about it. With anybody.
Contrary to what it seems, this is not a cry for pity. It is only meant as a way for me to organize my feelings and share how God has grown and upheld me. Once more, my pride got the better of me, and I was humbled. I was taught not to rely on my own ability to provide, but on God's promises for provision and calling. How can I bring the Kingdom to Earth if I allow my own abilities and confidence to supersede my faith in God?
Because of this experience, I am no longer distraught at the mention of my own failure. It merely serves as an awesome reminder for humility and an opportunity in which God can work!
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