Yesterday, I spoke of the shaving of my beard. My big hair seemed unbalanced without it. Thus, as a year ago I shaved my head in June, so it is again in June. And boy howdy, is my head small! That beard covered up my neck, so it seemed my head was this big mass of no neck. And after taking the hair, it made my body seem...more grand. All in all, it is of no value what I do, grow it long just to shave it off...I'm still me. I hope another can see that the inside of me is what matters. Perhaps I write in this venue so that I can be better understood, or at least seen...really seen. Admittedly, I can be guarded...bridging over can be difficult for the introvert. I don't think I've accurately portrayed myself to others.

Something my bank marketed to me today: my credit journey. That is dumb. There was once I thought a FICO score had value, but I realized it was about how good I was about being dumb. Taking on debt is a fool's game. My life ambition is to achieve Dave Ramsey's FICO score: 0.

I just don't want to be this highly regarded for being a big ol' dummy! I don't want to approach life with the mindset of what I want I get (even if I can't afford it now). And I SURE don't want my actions to teach my kids that credit cards are acceptable and fundamental to adulthood. Yet, I fear I have taught that in my classroom. They don't see my actions on the backend ensuring every transaction is accounted for...and I gladly retire my quadruple-accounting system that my credit cards require.

There's a larger picture beyond debt, across the panoply of life, that ought to be considered: if I can afford it, should it be purchased? Yes, the whys! Today, that thought raced in my mind as a $300,000 McLaren passed me. "Look kids, that guy really doesn't understand money!" I can see driving a shiny, vintage car down the road. Repairing and upgrading anything is a fun hobby. But, I didn't see much elbow grease on that new car.

Instead, it is a guy or gal who screams, "Please, somebody—anybody, I'm important! I matter! I've got this ___." Oh...

Johnny told his mama, "Hey, Mama, I'm goin' away
I'm gonna hit the big time, gonna be a big star someday," yeah
Mama came to the door with a teardrop in her eye
Johnny said, "Don't cry, Mama," smiled and waved good-bye
...
Don't you know that you are a shooting star?
...
And all the world will love you just as long
As long as you are a shooting star
...
Johnny died one night, died in his bed
Bottle of whiskey, sleeping tablets by his head
Johnny's life passed him by like a warm summer day
If you listen to the wind, you can still hear him play

-Bad Company, Shooting Star

I'll concede that debt might come into play with large capital acquisitions, namely buying a house for an individual. Still, I lean toward the construct of saving up and buying something we can afford. Build with your hands what you can afford and as more money comes in, add features/rooms. Like in IT, ensure scalability in your project!

Do we really need electricity? Indoor plumbing? Dad grew up with a single light bulb and an outhouse in the 30s and 40s. At 16, he was taught by Uncle Sam the modern conveniences of killing in '53. People back then did not need these debt monstrosities.

Why in 2024 do we need them? What is common to man that demands them? Ahh, indeed, we're doing too much with our housing. We needlessly enslave ourselves to a false promise, mortgaging our future to seek happiness.

What is a house? What is a house to you? Is it a place of security? A place to protect us from the cold and the hot? What do we really need? Does it resemble that? Or, is it a place that is more reminiscent of the White Tower in London than what we say we need? Have we even really examined our requirements or are we just another lemming—just another monkey see, monkey do? Ramsey recounts this account:

A group of monkeys were locked in a room with a pole at the center. Some luscious, ripe bananas were placed on top of the pole. When a monkey would begin to climb the pole, the experimenters would knock him off with a blast of water from a fire hose. Each time a monkey would climb, off he would go, until all the monkeys had been knocked off repeatedly, thus learning that the climb was hopeless.

The experimenters then observed that the other primates would pull down any monkey trying to climb. They replaced a single monkey with one who didn't know the system. As soon as the new guy tried to climb, the others would pull him down and punish him for trying. One by one, each monkey was replaced, and the scene repeated until there were no monkeys left in the room that had experienced the fire hose. Still, none of the new guys were allowed to climb. The other monkeys pulled them down. Not one monkey in the room knew why, but none were allowed to get the bananas.

I drive in neighborhoods and I don't see architecture or yardwork. I see debt. Lots of it. One house after another after another. Shiny truck with an empty bed...after shiny truck...after shiny truck. Debt for one, debt for all.

It doesn't end there, of course. People buy these toys, one thing after another that collects dust, things like silly boats and ATVs they rarely purposely use. Give me Phil Roberson's land down in Louisiana and those daily things would be welcomed. But, with all of these yuppies in the suburbs, it's one big ol' playset of paper dolls.

It's easy to point fingers, isn't it? I look at myself and think of the frivolities that make money evaporate. Instead of examining an item's alternatives or its lifecycle, from acquisition, regular use, and eventual replacement, I just impulsively purchase it.

I'm not the man I was before December 2003. In those days, YES, I collected things. I once had an apartment full of junk: trinkets purchased from Natural Wonders and World of Science; a waterfall of past English class paperback books and textbooks purchased from yard sales; artificial jungle plants from Old Time Pottery; and a dystopian future of computer cables and hardware. Music would play from within my couch, connected to a desktop in this world before Bluetooth speakers. Wooden beads hung from doorways of one idyllic scene to another. I liked stuff. I liked the idea of depictions of a world larger than the one for which I found myself. Even now, over 20 years later, I feel the call to adventure.

Quite honestly, there's a part of me that still wishes to collect things. How I would love to have a library room, 20-foot tall ceilings with shelving to the rafters! Tomes on a life's worth of topics! Artifacts to highlight points of interest. But, how few books are there that we return to time and time again! Are the infrequented a wise purchase? Do I really need a King's Library of London?

While the upticks pop up from time to time, I try to minimize things. I get on one project or another for a time, just convinced I need one doodad or another—I don't. Early this year, I went on that tear for belt buckles! What was I thinking?! I don't even wear belts now as these suspenders are a good value.

And maybe in the upcoming chapter of my life, I will do a better job at carnivore-capitalizing my assets instead of having just another nacho night.