What do warts have to do with it?

For some reason this week everyone seems to be talking about worrying. The subject has come up time and time again. From someone stating that they were actively worried about something to several people just saying "don't worry". So this has gotten be to thinking about it. Why do we worry and what can it accomplish. And while it may be very difficult to blog about worrying without mentioning that Bobby McFerrin song, I shall attempt to do just that.

The thing that really got me to thinking about this and wanting to write about it was when, in an email, my sister said "don't sweat it". What she was referring to is irrelevant in the context of this blog, but it really struck me. "Don't sweat it". Seems simple enough. But it really isn't, is it? To someone prone to letting things get to them, someone who dwells on topics they usually have no control over, people known as "worry warts", this command is damn near impossible to obey. It's like asking the tide not to come in. It's like saying "excuse me moon, but could you not reflect sunlight in an ever changing amount".

I know about worrying. I do it all the time. I used to be very good at it. I did it a lot. I'm getting better with it, I think. But I still do it. Everyone does to a degree. But why? What good does it do? None. People usually worry about things that are beyond their control. So why worry. If you can affect the situation upon which you are fixating, that is another thing completely. If you can do something then do it. Don't just sit and worry. And if you cannot do anything, then accept that and try and move on. It doesn't mean you have to like the situation. But if there is nothing you can do, well, try not to let it ruin everything else.

See the thing about worrying, just like being angry or mad or sad, is that they are unnatural states for the soul. Now, I know that sounds kind of deep but hear me out. When you worry, what do you have to do? You have to think about the thing you are worrying about. And I don't mean just a passing thought, you have to really concentrate. Same with being mad or when you claim to hate something. You really have to work at it. It is a huge waste of time and energy to achieve something that everyone admits they don't like. No one likes to worry or be mad or sad or angry.

Happiness is the natural state of a soul. Think about it. Worrying or being angry or whatever takes a lot of time and energy. But being happy doesn't. When you are happy you are, usually, completely at ease. Joy, happiness, contentment are all effortless. And much more enjoyable than being upset in some way. They flow through you and fill you up and, hopefully, may even spill over to others around you. Those other emotions, the bad ones, you have to hold onto. You have to work to keep them bottled up inside you. Even they know they belong inside us. And they are usually all to eager to blast out of you toward others.

I know it is impossible to say "don't worry" or "don't be sad" and expect someone to be able to just turn it off. Sometimes we can't help worrying or being mad or whatever. But just remember that those are all things you have to work at. Just let go. Focus that energy you are using to keep those emotions close to you on pushing them away. Let the effortless happiness take over. Let the peace inside you free.

What would Earl Scruggs say?

As you all know, my Tender Lumplings, it is well documented my dislike of country music. Unfortunately, due to my employment, I have to be exposed to a fair amount of the stuff. Usually I can just grit my teeth and get through it. But every now and then I see something I have to comment on and recently I've notice a disturbing trend. It is, quite simply, the six string banjo.

Now, I'm not really opposed to the instrument itself. In fact, when it was introduced a few years back (I think the first one I saw was made by Dean) I thought it was a cool idea. A banjo with six strings and tuned like a guitar. Now the average guitar player could play some banjo riffs without a learning curve. Pretty neat idea. Traditional five string banjos are a lot different from a guitar. The tuning and the way that top string is little and doesn't go all the way to the end of the neck. It's weird.

So why am I now having a problem with this seemingly harmless hybrid instrument. Well, here is the thing. I've keep seeing these country singers, or members of their band, playing these six string banjos. Even that Keith Urban asshole plays one in a video. I hear you asking, what's the problem. The problem is that it is country music. It's Nashville. If you can't find an honest-to-Earl traditional banjo picker in Nashville, well, you shouldn't be in the business. I mean really people. Every street corner in that town has a musician on it. You can't spit in that town without hitting a banjo player. It's true, I've tried (my apologies to the guy outside Gruhn Guitars).

It just provides me with another reason to dislike that music. As if the simplistic music, asinine lyrics, formulaic songwriting, ridiculous and pretend "working class" attitude and overall uselessness wasn't enough.

I Sing The Body Electric

Let me start off by saying this: if an electric car runs and performs anything like my electric lawnmower, then they should be wonderful, dependable machines. I've had my little mower for something like eight years and it just keeps going and going and going. So, that being said, I now say this: I am 100% pro electric automobiles. That is a very popular stance to take these days. But not if you are a "car guy". And I am.

I love cars. I love looking at them and driving them. I like watching them race (except for NASCAR, that it crap). I like Indy cars, rally cars, hot rods, muscle cars, big luxury models and even those jet powered pseudo car things that break the sound barrier out on the salt flats. If I were a rich man (da da dadda dadda da), I would have a bunch of them. If I were a better mechanic I would love working on them. But mostly I love driving them. I love the sound of a big motor revving and rumbling, a huge four barrel carb sucking in gas like water through a hose.

I come by all this honestly. My Dad is a car guy. He's been driving them and working on them for nearly 60 years. He knows them inside and out and around the sides. He's also a bike guy and I like bikes too but I'm a little scared of them. Mostly because he told me to be.

So how can such a die hard car guy say he is for electric cars? It isn't easy but I think I can justify it. One reason, and it isn't a small one, is that I think we kind of have to be for the electric car. Like it or not we are going to run out of gas. So switching to electric as soon as we can will preserve what we have left for using in our old cars, which should be only now and then. Also the electric cars have started to get much better. The guys at Tesla have proven that an electric car can be fast and cool. Toyota, despite other troubles, have proved an eclectic car can be successful. And Honda have proven an electric car can be boring. And face it, some people love boring cars. Even more so if it gets 50 MPG.

But the car guys and a lot of other people won't buy into the electric car until we start racing them. Racing is what has driven the automotive industry since it's start. It gets people excited and pushes technology. So once we start seeing a real organized electric car racing scene, then I think a lot more people will be on board. It will take some getting used to. The guy will yell "Gentlemen, start your engines" and you won't hear anything. But I think it will be good in the long run. People will see that electric cars can be fast, fun, dependable and smart. Like my lawnmower. Oh, and they are alot quieter and they smell better. If you're into that sort of thing.

The Eggplant Problem

Several years ago I discovered that I really like Indian food. Curry, tandoori, naan, sag, dal, chickpeas, masala, paneer, whatever, I dig it. I go to the Indian buffett and I don't even ask what most of it is. I just put in on a plate an go for it. I really love. Well, one day at my favorite place to chow on this stuff they had fritters made of eggplant. I'd never had it before but seeing that I will eat pretty much anything they fix at this place I tried it. It was wonderful. So I began to sample other eggplant dishes. Eggplant parmesan for example. Turns out I like that too. Now I'm eating eggplant all the time.

Here's the problem, well a couple of them really. Eggplant, after you get past that pretty purple skin, is ugly. And it only gets worse when you cook it. It's sort of a gray/green and slimey. I mean it really looks bad. I guess that is why it is usaully in a sauce or breaded or somehting. You reallly shouldn't look directly at it when you eat it.

The other problem is that eggplant wears out it's welcome pretty quick. You love it when you start eating but it doesn't take long to reach what I call the Eggplant Threshold. Here is an example: tonight we went out to one our favorite places and I had the eggplant parm sub. I big hoagie roll filled with breaded eggplant, marinara and cheese. It is wonderful. I dug in and was doing fine when suddenly, about three quarters of the way through, I just couldn't take another bite. It wasn't that I was full, I just couldn't bring myself to take another bite of eggplant. I had reached critical mass. One more taste and I would have gone into my Mr. Creasote impression.

I just don't get it. So I finished my fries and polished off the last of my beverage and that was that. Knowing that eggplant also doesn't travel well I passed on bringing that last bit home. Still I'm not sorry I ordered it. It was damn good.

Return of the mad blogger

I realized that my infrequency of writing here is not from a lack of topics to address. It's is from having too many topics. I kept trying to only write when I had some big special something to say. This is completely the wrong way to go about it. It isn't about some ground shaking truth. Or even some mildly amusing lie. It's about a bit of fun for me and if something useful comes out of it well then fine. All in all it is just pointless. It means nothing. If I'm being completely honest, only a couple of people even read this blog and I'm one of them. So, with that I now know that I can write whatever I want, whenever I want. Does this mean I'll be better at posting more often? Probably not. But maybe, really, you don't know I won't. In fact, I'll start right now with the first of my completely pointless posts. In 1765 a man named Antonio Butcelli Fellucci wrote one of the first science fiction novels. It told the story of an old Italian man named Giuseppe who believed that Heaven existed as a physical place just beyond the stars. A place that you could actually travel too while still living instead of waiting for God to take you there when He didn't have to worry about that silly body weighting you down. So Giuseppe built what was essentially a giant crossbow, the height of scientific achievement at the time, and shot himself into space. He has some sort of holy vision while floating high over the earth and then falls back to his death. It was all supposed to be some sort of allegorical nonsense about trying to know the ways of God being rightfully punished for doing so. But it was the first time anyone theorized weightlessness in space, as Giuseppe floats above the earth for nearly a third of the book. And that makes this book very important. The biggest problem with the book is that it doesn't exist. I just made it up. Until next time my Lumplings.

The Mechanical Man

I have always thought of myself as being a pretty handy guy. I rarely shy away from a project requardless of its difficulty. I've repaired the brakes on my car. And I don't mean just the brake pads, we're talking about digging into the engine bay and replaceing big stuff. I've installed appliances like dishwashers (and only got shocked once). Usually this kind of thing goes smoothly and everything is great. But lately I have apparently lost whatever knack I had for this sort of thing has left me. The last several projects I have tackled have failed. Miserably. Especially anything haveing to do with something mechanical. I'm not going to go into specifics. That would be far too embarassing. Suffice it to say that my faith in my own handy man abilities has been shaken to the breaking point. From now on any jobs more complex than changing a light bulb or maybe painting a wall I will leave to the experts. Cost be damned. I'm by no means a rich man but sometimes the price is worth it. It is actually quite a relief. I don't have to worry about things anymore. Something not working right? Call the man. Something just went pop and all heck is breaking loose? Call the man. I'm a home owner and you are supposed to take care of stuff. Okay, I can do that. Give me the phone. Also in a way it pisses me off a lot. I've always been someone who never asks for help. I can do it. I don't need somebody else screwing everything up. If anyone is gonna make a mess of this situation it's gonna be me. So admitting I can't do something and that I may not know everything isn't easy. It's hard to admit you have limits. Especially when those limits have changed and things that were firmly with in their bounds no longer are. I can't help but think: what will I not be able to do next.