Mankind -- good or bad?

While I consider myself a believer in the Christian faith, I don't always jibe well with organized religion. First of all, there's the fascination with morality at the expense of love and compassion. Where I reside, as long as you don't drink alcohol or use profanity, you're counted among the Chosen, no matter how badly you cut down your neighbor. A few years back, I decided that my search would focus on love, and in the interim, I'll enjoy beer and wine and cuss like a sailor.

Here's another point on which I depart from the conventional thoughts of the majority of churches: I believe that humanity -- for the most part -- wants to do good. After 9/11, I was amazed at how people pulled together. New York didn't turn into an uncontrollable riot ground, as I would have predicted. Another inspiration comes from public reaction to the recent CNN story about a young boy in Iraq who was burned by insurgents. CNN reports that they've been overwhelmed by the number of readers and viewers who want to help, and the boy will soon be flown to a children's burn center in California.

My DIY epiphany

Three Saturdays ago, a friend and I took on the task of ripping out and replacing a cracked bathtub in my new house. I had only found one plumber willing to take on such a task, and he asked over $800.

The culture in which I grew up is quite do-it-yourself oriented. Myself, I have always had a deep respect and a touch of jealousy for those who can rebuild engines, remodel the kitchen, blah, blah, blah. But three Saturdays ago, I realized that having a free weekend during perfect July weather is worth a lot -- much more than $800, probably.

For the first time in my life, I no longer whipped myself for not being good with my hands. At 33 years of age -- and within shouting distance of 34 -- I think I've crossed a threshold. I no longer desire to be Mr. Handyman. If I can change the oil, fix leaky faucets, replace the lightbulbs, tighten the doorknobs, then hell, that's good enough for me. There are those in the world who are good at home improvement projects and auto mechanics. When you can afford it, pay them to do it. (And when I can't afford it, I'll ask myself, does this REALLY need to be done now?) While the pros are at work, I'll be in the garden or joy riding.

Guilt is a useless emotion

For whatever reason, I find myself very prone to guilt. In college, I stayed two-and-a-half years in a housing situation that ruined my social life out of a sense of guilt; I've lost sleep afraid that I've said the wrong thing to someone, only to find they didn't think twice about it; I've worked longer hours than I really should because I can't seem to allow myself the time off. A few years ago, a pretty classmate from New York advised me, "Guilt is a useless emotion." No matter how much I want to accept this, I can't let it go. I'm a magnet for guilt.

For example, the nature of my job allows me fairly flexible hours. This is understood by my superiors and my peers. It isn't unusual for me to work steadily from 8 a.m. until 9 p.m., but if I decide to go in late the next day or come home early, I end up docking myself. This morning, I went to exchange some running shoes at the local department store and found myself constantly looking over my shoulder, fearful that someone would think ill of me for not having my nose to the grindstone at 10 a.m., even though I worked past 10 p.m. last night and will work until after 8 p.m. tonight.

I have to wonder if there's a proverbial switch in me -- something that I can flip to cut loose all the guilt and the apprehension, instantly and without looking back.

Older than the Lord

I've been skirting around the notion of a blog for a while, and today I find myself in test-drive mode. I've never had a tremendous understanding or respect for the value of blogs, other than to the blogger him-/herself. Honestly, I can't pin down the reasons I'm choosing to tackle it now, unless it's to map out my future by organizing the past and labeling the present: a self-study. But I guess that's what all blogs are really about, eh?

For starters, some of my basic data (material that will be fleshed out a bit more in future blogs, perhaps):

• I'll turn 34 later this month, making me, as an old friend pointed out, "older than the Lord." Really and truly, when I was a teenager, I thought I'd be farther along in life by this point.
• I live four hours from my hometown, and only within the last three years have I begun to sense the place calling me back.
• I consider myself very rural and very Southern, but given many of my shortcomings and interests, this culture that I know and love often sparks a feeling that I'm a pair of brown shoes in a world of tuxedos.
• I love my job and desire to do it well, but I fear that I lose sight of my priorities.
• I'm an aspiring fiction writer who's now finding encouragement on a semi-regular basis.
• Although always an avid hiker and underweight for most of my life, a poor fitness level and more than a few extra pounds have snuck up on me in the last eight or nine years, prompting me to declare myself a runner (who's not as faithful to his running as he should be) and (very recently) a beginning cyclist.

And with that introduction... I enter the Land of Blogging.