How great it would be to teach a single subject—even a single textbook! Year after year! Just run through the material 5 times in a day. It makes me shake my head when I look back at my Art class and that Physics of Chess period. Just give a 10-minute spiel before sitting back down in your rolling chair. Or in some cases like my Geography class, never getting up...come to think of it, no spiel either!

This is how I started out this post. I am writing in the evening, last night from your perspective. There's something about the falling rain that makes me retrospective...nostalgic...miss those who are out of my life. I see the old places...I think of the laughter. "Those goodbyes were not supposed to be the last ones..."

There was a time in my life when I did not gaze so much to the past. It was the FUTURE, "Yes, the world you want today, tomorrow! TECH, TECH, TECH!" I remember laying out beneath the Arizona summer of 2005, reading The Road Ahead, a book written a decade earlier by Bill Gates. Now nearly twenty years away from that moment in the Sun, has the world really changed?

Have we ever changed?

There are always new gadgets to do the things we already did. There are different circumstances and contexts. But, I'm still me. Even approaching 46. It makes it hard, the people who are out of my life. Dead, somewhere else, or just simply gone. "I'm still me...I'm still the guy they knew when I mattered."

So, I look back at me. "That younger version doesn't know, does he? Should I tell him? No? Let him smile..."

And just let (him) cry if the tears fall down like rain
Let (him) sing if it eases all (his) pain

-Hootie & the Blowfish

There is not a lot of time left. About 14 years from now, I will be turning 60. You might think that is a chunk of time, but half of that is how long this site's domain has existed, April 2017. That does not seem so far ago. There is a characteristic of time that I lament: everything starts out slow, grade school, summer breaks, high school jobs...months felt like years. Then somewhere along the way, life rockets forward. Seasons whip by so fast that I am never sure if I am in a spring or an autumn.

Clearly, this puts things into perspective, that which matters and that which does not. We usually get those two flipped the wrong way. There is ore of wisdom to be mined, but we like our rock candy. Admittedly, I live a life as if I will just keep on being in this realm, that I am not journeying closer to my world of wonder and adventure. Yes, instead, I live like I am on a long work vacation, and I will be back to the regularly scheduled 90s shortly.

Sadly, largely my 2024 goals have no relevance. Look at that list:

1. Don't eat carbs.
2. Passively get a smaller waistline.
3. Actively get bigger shoulders.
4. Actively get bigger arms.
5. Benchmark and encourage results.
6. Encourage a smaller frame by running.
7. Passively get a bigger beard.

That's it in a nutshell. So what?

I have to be careful here. Last summer in the highly effective HFC #1, after 237 days and approaching a weigh-in, existential malaise left me "adrift at sea."

And where I am now with HFC #2? Day 232. Gimme less than a week and the next score to break is...*gulp*...795 days.

I am sure a year ago I was where I am now, not a care in the world for a carb. Donuts and pizza are consumed around me today; last week, my favorite cereal was eaten, a cinnamon crunch. I am not drawn to them. I've got half the mind to get back to my breadmaking in the mornings as the baking bread aroma of fails to fell me.

My New Year's Resolutions are inadequate because they are aesthetics-driven. Yes, the underlying health benefits are key and I suspect the obviousness of that intent is why I did not list them. And yet, there is value in a clear, defined message, ESPECIALLY if the original intent seems to have been lost along the way.

That is the value of a shaved beard. I see clearly how my face has changed, how its contours point to the next stage of my life. While I hope my eyes forever shine brightly, youthful vitality is left behind in the yellowed pages of photo albums.

But, I do not eat a carnivore diet to look better. My appearance interested me in 1997 when my good buddy David and I would go up to Wolfchase in '97 and '98 for its target-rich environment. These days, I grow it long just to shave it off. No, I have handed looking good off to the next generation. And rightfully so—what value does it bring?

I still have my sights set on beating that 10-9-2044 expiration date of my father's.

No, fitness is a longevity play. Namely, I want to be there for my kids, to gift them something when they come seeking answers. To recall what I can of what my father used to tell me.

I remain deficient in wisdom. Regardless of how its study has been a core tenet of mine, that is what I need to focus on in the back half of my life as I eagerly await the world I know and have longed for my entire life.

Thus, I am retiring these New Year Resolutions. I want something in its stead. So, what do I do?

I want something that means something. I want to think in terms of legacy and destination, what I leave behind and what to take with me to the world across the divide. How joyful I feel when I think there will come a day when dreams beyond my wildest expectations will come true! Just think about that for moment: I imagine my perfect day, the perfect setting...well, it is gonna be even better than that!

I want to live like I did at age 23-24, falling in love with God for the first time in my life. I was up at the Ugly Mug with my haggard Bible, the one I could not afford ($157 adjusted for inflation!), that 5-lb tome laid out on one of those wooden tables that would otherwise host Mahjong and chess games of my "where everybody knows your name" folks. A bottomless cup of Seattle's Best Coffee was at my side as I pored through Scripture.

There was a free spirit in those days with so many questions and few answers. It was a time that absolutely required trust. I graduated in August 2001 and this journey began. I can still see that time with my eyes: the Memphis alumni sticker above my truck's rearview mirror, the citrus smell of the car air freshener, the snap of pushing in its 12-CD disc changer with albums like Weezer's green album (2001), Benjamin Gate's self-titled (2001), the Counting Crows' This Desert Life (1999), and Skillet's Alien Youth (2001).

If I had known that full-time work would come on 1/2/03, perhaps I might have been disheartened! OK, devastated! All those temp gigs with Pfizer, Memphis Grizzlies...I've literally forgotten who else...and then the part-time work supporting Germantown Baptist Church's servers and users put a few bucks in my pocket.

But that time in my life was about trust and change, not money. It was learning what it was to follow the God of Monday Mornings and Saturday Nights, and turning into the man who worshipped such a deity. No longer was God relegated to Sundays and Wednesday nights; He was no longer painted poorly as a stern disciplinarian.

It was an incredible time. Something I needed so much in my life, though at the time, I sent prayer after prayer for a career. I recognize that a career would have easily become my god.

Even the short time I put in at Sitka at my last IT professional stint, I voluntarily put in 60 hours a week. To be fair, a one-man IT department just HAD TO in that godforsaken Wild West saloon of a university. And I was alone there sans the friendship I had with the HVAC guy. Perhaps it was the power of an imported-from-Costco bag of pistachios that his office kept which kept me coming back! Seriously, folks would fly to Juneau for their monthly shopping trip. I reckon my HVAC buddy / retired Coast Guard just took his boat for pistachios since he regularly offered fishing tours.

I am over a decade removed from Sitka and over two decades from that time drinking coffee deep into the night at the corner of Poplar and Highland next to the home of my countless Chinese takeouts at A-Tan's. Those two periods of my life were especially emotionally vivid. For both environments, I immediately entered them after leaving far different studies and thematic elements at university.

I know which one I would gladly do over again if I could:

Last night, I drank a cup of Seattle's Best Portside blend for the first time in over two decades.

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.