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	<title>WIRL Project &#187; ABCs</title>
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	<description>What It&#039;s Really Like.</description>
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		<title>Reality &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/reality-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/reality-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 18 Nov 2015 16:00:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Entertainment]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food/Drink]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home/Garden]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Style/Beauty]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Work/Money]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bedtime with toddlers]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Born]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Marriage]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mornings]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[News]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[No Coffee]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Real World]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Reality]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Road Rules]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Toddler]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=9912</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like… Back in 1998 MTV debuted the reality TV show Real World/Road Rules Challenge – better known as simply, “The Challenge”.  In reflection of my current life I have found that much my own reality is impacted by challenges from the real world and the rules of the road. *** BASED ON ACTUAL EVENTS: 4:30AM – the alarm rings out.  The real world will begin after a few open handed smacks of the snooze button.  Is it mommy or daddy’s turn to take the boys to school?  Whoever’s turn it is has the first shower.  I can’t remember what she said last night.  Was it me or her?  She’s not moving.  Shit, I think it’s my day.  Yep, it is.  OK I’m up. Ouch!  How many times am I going to kick that laundry basket before somebody moves it?  Where is the light?  What’s the difference?  I can’t see anything anyways.  Toothbrush.  Man, the lights are bright.  I’ll try to rub my eyes a few times to clear my eyesight.  Whoa, wish I could not see again.  You look like crap.  When is the last time you worked out?  Ugh, I guess I’ll weigh myself.  That might motivate me to run tonight after work.  Please don’t be high.  WOW.  How is that possible?  I feel 25 pounds heavier than that.  I still feel like crap, though.  Lucky.  Probably still won’t run tonight, anyway. Pounding sinus headache.  Not a sip of alcohol last night and I feel like I’ve pulled an all-night bender and just stopped drinking an hour ago.  Time for the shower.  Don’t forget to turn the light on in Little room before you get into the shower.  It is taking a lot longer for him to get out of bed lately.  Maybe today I can get him dressed on his own without World War III breaking out.  Doubt it. What the hell do I wear today?  This closet selection is so sad.  God, I hate ironing my pants.  Why don’t I do this the night before?  Oh, Kathy’s up.  I’m not going to say anything.  She’s not a morning person.  That’s ok.  I feel like my head is going to explode and I don’t feel like talking either.  Let’s see if Little B is up while I wait for the iron to warm up.  Nope.  He won’t even move.  Why can’t he sleep this hard EARLIER in the night?  I’ll shake him to get things going. “Hey, buddy.  Time to wake up.  Rise and shine!” “No, no, nonono, GO AWAY DADDY.  Leave me ALONE!” When did my toddler turn into a teenager? “Five minute warning and we are going to get dressed.” “No, no, NOOOOOOOO!” I’m so glad he hasn’t learned any cuss words.  I half expect him to use a few one of these mornings. OK, I am dressed.  Now let’s get him dressed.  This has to be the worst part of the day.  What is my strategy?  He’s been terrible to wake and get ready lately.  Sneak attack?  No, that makes things worse.  I can’t bribe him this early.  Let him make the choice. “Who do you want to get you dressed – Mommy or Daddy?”  Classic line.  He usually picks the opposite. “Noooooo!  I DON’T KNOW” That didn’t work.  Now what? Have to try the bribe. “If you get up and get ready without crying we can go get donuts on Friday morning before school.  Do you want donuts?” “I don’t want donuts.  I don’t want to go to school.  Leave me alone, Daddy!” This is turning into a hostage negotiation. *15 minutes pass* I can’t take this anymore.  I am going to start yelling.  Now I’m yelling louder.  OK, now I am threatening to spank him.  Should I spank him?  He just woke up.  That’s really not right.  He is really pissing me off today.  I’m going to be late.  Enough is enough.  Well, that didn’t work.  He’s bawling now.  Kathy just walked in.  THANK GOD.  He has everything but his socks on now.  Good enough.  She can brush his teeth and comb his hair.  I’m out of here. I am starving.  It’s 6:25.  SERIOUSLY?!  I have not even eaten yet.  Why are there no clean spoons?  Cereal sucks when you ate the same exact meal as a snack before going to bed.  ARRRGHHHH!  I just remembered!   I have to pack my lunch.  Unreal.  I have no time for this.  I hear Little B coming down the stairs.  How did she brush his teeth so fast?  No wait, he’s at the top of the stairs refusing to come down.  Awesome.  He hasn’t eaten yet either.  Let’s try the line again. “What do you want for breakfast?  Mommy or Daddy’s cereal?” “I don’t want breakfast!  I want NUFFING!” I look at the clock.  It is 6:29.  Zero hour is 6:30.  The commute is only 15 miles, but traffic is horrific.  If I don’t leave before 6:30 I won’t make it to work until after 8:00.  Screw it.  Leftovers.  Where is the ice pack for my lunch?  Of course I forgot to put it back in the freezer yesterday.  Good thing we have a backup.  Cute, real cute.  The backup ice packs are so fat that the Tupperware doesn’t fit in my lunch bag.  Guess I’ll have to make a sandwich after all. “WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR BREAKFAST?” “NUFFING!” I’m pouring a bowl, I don’t care.  At least I can say that I tried. “Here’s your cereal” “I DON’T WANT IT” “OK, Daddy is going to eat it or throw it away” “NONONO!” (crying ensues)  “I want to eat it!!!” “Sit down at your little table and eat it then.” “Ok… I WANT A BIG SPOON!  I DON’T WIKE THE GREEN BOWL!  I WANT THE BLUE BOWL!!!!” You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.  You know what, I am not even going to fight him today.  Where is that damn blue bowl?  Dirty in the dishwasher.  Figures.  Well that’s out the window. “EAT IT OR IT GETS THROWN AWAY!” (Sobbing ensues) What time is it now?  6:34. I can still make decent time if I am in my truck by 6:45. COFFEE. This can’t be happening.  THERE IS NO COFFEE.  I have no time to make coffee. “Welp, there is no coffee!!!” “I’m so sorry Brody, I can’t do everything around here!” Oops.  That wasn’t for her to hear.  She did get Little B and Baby K ready without my help.  Doesn’t matter anymore. I explode. I light into everything in the kitchen.  Little B, Kathy, the freezer, coffee maker.  I’ll even cuss out my lunch bag while I’m at it. Shut up and get out before you ruin everyone’s day. Truck keys.  I’ve got to get out of here.  I’m going to be late.  I feel horrible for not helping Kathy.  She won’t want my help now because I yelled back at her.  Why do I do that? *15 minutes pass* We are all loaded up.  Deep breath.  We made it.  Start the truck, garage door down, aaaand adjust radio.  No Country this morning.  I need to calm down.  Where is the Jazz station?  There that is better.  Silence. “Daddy, I hungie (hungry)”. *** For me, reality comes in one giant cycle commencing and culminating with two massive countdowns for launching (departing the house) and landing (bedtime).  The road rules quality time spent with my children during three hour commutes in which I stare at the rearview mirror into the backs of their little eyelids after they have passed out from a long day at school.  The reality of “R” is a challenge that each of us faces every day. Rise, retain, remain, retire. Repeat. &#160;]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Q: Quality &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/q-quality-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/q-quality-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 Nov 2015 09:00:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food/Drink]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[News/Sports]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Work/Money]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Conversation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Genuine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Handwriting]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Morris the Cat]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Old School]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Quality]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Quality of Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Race to Nowhere]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sterling Silver]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Time Spend]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Tupperware]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=9765</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like… Traditionally when facing a major upcoming purchase I try to settle on a selection where performance meets value.  Usually there comes a point when I determine whether or not the price justifies the quality of the item.  “Quality” items generally harbor fine qualities, but not the finest.  For most, quality generally floats somewhere between the best and good enough. To me it’s more than that. My grandmother used to have a clear drinking glass that had Morris the Cat embossed on the side of it.  (For those of you not familiar with Morris the Cat, he was the mascot for 9lives cat food back in the 1970s.)  There was an illustrated thought bubble that was pointing from Morris’ head that said, “Morris on glass is like Sterling on silver.”  Apparently, Morris felt that the quality of his drinking glass was pretty damn good.  There were three things that my grandmother was fond of: sterling silver, genuine leather (she liked to pronounce it gen-U-whiiine leather) and Tupperware.  None of which boasted the finest qualities, but quality nonetheless.   “It is better to have second hand diamonds than not at all”, she used to tell me.  I suppose those are quality words to live by. Quality comes from the old school.  Literally.  Craftsmanship is a lost ability, even sometimes on me.  Many people do not know how to use it let alone spot it.  I occasionally tell my dad that I am disappointed in myself for not learning to be more handy and technically skilled with my hands like he is.  He has told me several times that my handy skills will be there when I need it.  I was proud of myself recently for selecting a beautiful solid oak desk from a local second hand store to replace our wobbly “L-shaped” corner desk we purchased from Staples for $75 several years ago as newlyweds.  I know that this is a quality item because the craftsmanship, detail and finish are a thing of beauty.  Plus, the thing weighs about 1,000 lbs. so there is no doubt that it was made well.  There is no substitute for quality.  They definitely don’t make them like they used to. Speaking of the old school…as a teacher I have discovered a lost academic art is in handwriting and conversation.  The handwriting of today’s teenagers is absolutely atrocious.  Carrying on a conversation can be even worse.  So many quality learning experiences are lost to the quantity of information attempted to be absorbed by an insatiable need of a smart device.  Take a walk down any high school hallway during a class change and you will see it firsthand.  Count how many students have their heads down while they walk, glued to their cell phones with ear buds in their ears.  It’s no wonder why this new upcoming generation has been said to be on the “race to nowhere”.   It is probably no coincidence that a capital cursive ‘Q’ appears to be shaped like the number ‘2’ and that it takes two people to carry on a quality conversation. In the baseball vernacular, when a starting pitcher completes 6 innings while allowing less than 3 runs it is known as a quality start.  As a parent, my QS% is quite low when my wife and I struggle to get our two boys out of the house each morning.   A parenting quality start should be a combination of no tears, fights (between parents or children), forgotten daily items, and making it to work on time. Lately I have found myself asking myself about quality quite frequently.  I often wonder where I spend quality time vs. where my time is most spent.  Within that poses the question of quality of life.  Personally, where does performance meet value?  It is why some of us opt for the car wash over spending time washing by hand or why some of us choose to put a loaf of bread in the refrigerator.  The tradeoff is time spent vs. quality of life.  I guess that is why my wife and I have decided we prefer quality of life by relocating back to our hometown to be near our families.  It may also be why we likely continue to keep putting the loaf of bread in the refrigerator.  It’s all about preserving the quality of life.]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>P: Poise &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/p-poise-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/p-poise-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 26 Oct 2015 03:57:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Entertainment]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Collapsing Pocket]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Competition]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Conversions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fall]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Football]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Opposition]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Optimism]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Panic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poise]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Possession]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pressure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Quarterback]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=9575</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  Poise – verb &#8211; to hold (something) in a balanced and steady position The season of fall features a great dose of excitement for sports fans.  Playoff baseball, college/professional football, hockey and basketball all joust for the spotlight in the late months of the year in America.  As the days grow shorter, so do the sleep patterns of most sports enthusiasts attempting to absorb as much of the action as possible while still being able to have the strength to function on a day-to-day basis. I have always been able to sit down and immerse myself in an athletic contest even without knowing anything about either team playing.  The art of competition is fascinating.  As in most sports, skill, will and a bit of luck all play a role in determining factors in the eventual outcome of a game.  A man I used to coach with used to tell our players the competition was about weathering the storm.  Players should anticipate a violent storm during the contest.  It would be inevitable.  Would they allow the storm to disrupt the game plan and their top goal or would they hold steady during inclement conditions?  Most times, but not always, the team that does the best job at balancing the highs and lows emerge victorious. Saturdays and Sundays in the fall place a popular focus on the football gridiron.  Each game a significant amount of attention is paid to the quarterback position.  This is understandable for the large number of responsibilities the signal caller holds on each play.  Having played the position before I have an insurmountable respect for each player that gets under center.  Beyond ball handling and arm strength the quarterback position requires many intangible skills; most of which cannot be taught: composure, leadership, decision making, instinct, adaptability, internal clock and moxie.   Aside from athletic talent, all of those skills can be boiled down into one classification: poise. Great poise is undeniable.  Coach K writes in his book (Beyond Basketball) “…poise is the opposite of panic…it (poise) requires maturity.  It’s about remaining mentally and emotionally balanced all the time, no matter what is taking place around you.”  I obviously no longer play football, but that does not mean that I have stopped trying to sidestep the oncoming rush of the opposition.  One of the first cardinal rules to follow as a quarterback is to take care of the football and maintain a possession.  Many aspire to be placed in a position to call the shots having no idea what it takes to stand in the pocket and play the game.  When faced with pressure are you converting or turning it over?  When the rush is on and the pocket is collapsing how do you protect what is important and maintain possession of something you have worked so hard to claim?  Poise or panic?  We all play our own game.  We all face a different opponent.  Only you can answer that question. &#8220;Clear the mechanism&#8221; -Billy Chapel &#8220;Ease the pounding of your heart by quieting your mind&#8221; -GMa &#8220;Keep calm and carry on&#8221; -WWII Brits Evidence and reminders of poise are all around.  Face each day possessed with optimism, meet your opposition with poise and keep on converting. ]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>O: Odor &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/o-odor-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/o-odor-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 12 Oct 2015 14:04:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food/Drink]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home/Garden]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Did you Fart]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dirty Deeds]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dirty Jobs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dunder Chief]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fallen Soldiers]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Like Father Like Son]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Odor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[parenting]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Smell Test]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=9272</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  Did you fart?? These are the famous last words of parents with children under the age of five before discovering the source of a particularly pungent smell. This statement is usually uttered while driving down the road or while settling in the living room to watch a little late evening TV. If you are a parent you know the job can be smelly business. I am still waiting for Mike Rowe to do an episode of Dirty Jobs on the occupation of parenting. Our house possesses no shortage of a variety of smells. Some days are better than others. It usually is a balance somewhere between locker room, gourmet kitchen, waste water treatment plant and field full of wildflowers. Like Father, Like Son Unfortunately, my oldest son has inherited his parents feet. His feet are wide like mommy’s and stinky like daddy’s. Since he is growing so quickly we usually elect to buy him shoes that are an off-brand to save money. I am not sure if the lower grade material amplifies the smell or that his feet stink that much. Living in the south produces challenges on its own with high humidity and high average temperatures. You can imagine the stench that is produced when a sweaty preschooler removes his shoes in the back of a car after playing hard for an hour in the July Georgia heat. *Author’s note &#8211;   Although he has been running around the house today without shoes on, my son just ran by and crop dusted me on the way to the “potty” as I was sitting here typing this post.  Trash Tricks Another problem that poses itself in the southern heat is the trash. During the summer months my wife and I have to strategize the week’s menu based upon its “smell factor” by which it decomposes in the trash can. I can always count on having chicken on Tuesday or Wednesday leading up to trash day on Thursday to shorten the life of the horrendous rotting odor that is emitted with discarded chicken scraps. Typically perfectly cooked chicken can turn over in less than eight hours in the southern summer months. Fallen Soldiers Leftover snacks, juice/milk sippy cups and fallen foodstuffs all leave an undesired wasteland in family vehicles. Some of the items are immediately found others are discovered later when the real catastrophic mess happens. Usually by then the damage has been done and the smell has made itself permanent. One of the most difficult things to do is to keep a car clean with a toddler and a newborn. This is near impossible to accomplish this feat in the interior of a newer car. Tack on a wife who has the family nickname, “Puddles” and you could have yourself a real problem. Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap I used to have a roommate in college who thought the lyrics to this ACDC song were, “Dirty deeds and the Dunder Chief”. After he was called out on his lyrical snafu, some of my college friends actually considered dressing up as the Dunder Chief for Halloween. After much debate and many adult beverages, the costume idea died after no one could decide on what the great Dunder looked like. That story reminds me of another fine skill that I learned in college, The Smell Test. You can only imagine the types of smells coming out of an all-male college apartment. (Let’s not omit the other gender population. Ladies, I have been in plenty of all-female college apartments 10-times as nasty as our little hole. I will not pass judgment or gender discriminate. In elementary school learned about Santa and in college I learned that girls are not sugar and spice and everything nice.)  The dominating odors that I recall lofting through my college apartment were a delicate perfume blend of stale beer, rotting pizza, Hawaiian Breeze Plug-ins and musk. Somewhere in the barrage of college life, hopefully one does laundry. During the hustle and bustle of a college week, laundry comes and goes and most of it rarely gets put away. Laundry does not come with a born on date so it is often difficult to know its shelf life. This is especially true if you were anything like a typical college student that when it came time to do laundry chances are you took a truckload of it home with you to your parents’ house every four weeks or so. It was there on campus that I perfected the smell test with the motto, “When in doubt, sniff it out”. The Smell Test has become an important attribute of fatherhood as it can signify a diaper change, time of death of a fallen soldier (see above) or when a toddler DIY post-#2 “all by myself” wipe might not have been mission accomplished. Parenting requires the versatility of steady nose and the ability to breathe out your mouth. “Where Did That Come From?!” Potty training your toddler will cause your nose perk up and ask, “Where did that come from?” and your eyes ask, “WHERE DID THAT COME FROM???” Flatulence, bowel movements, “tee-tee”, formula burps, spit up, projectile vomit, snot waterfalls  – parenting is not for the faint of heart or the non-iron stomached. In high school, my brother’s friends could make our friend Mike almost instantaneously vomit just by making gagging gestures and barfing noises. Today he is the father of two beautiful children. I am still not sure how he persevered during the “bodily fluid years”. I will never forget on a recent road trip home for Thanksgiving with my first born son. We drove straight through the night so that he would be asleep for most of the trip. Around the beginning of rush hour we were making our way through Cincinnati, Ohio.  While maneuvering in and out of traffic at 75 miles-per-hour my wife and I hear a gurgling sound from the backseat that was surprisingly louder than the car radio. She and I looked at one another wide eyed and turned around.  We knew that the enormous amount of dairy that he had just consumed at the hotel continental breakfast (milk and yogurt) was about to appear in the backseat. Nearly three seconds later there was a milky shower pouring in, out and over his car seat. The sour odor of dairy by-product immediately filled the warm interior of my car that had its heat blasting to take the chill off from outside. After several treatments with carpet cleaner and Febreze, I resorted to covering nearly my entire backseat with baking soda. I rode around for the next month and a half until the remedy finally conquered the smell. Absolutely awful. Take it from me, as a parent of two boys and after changing an infinite number of diapers I now know exactly what the Dunder Chief looks like (and smells like).]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>M: Memory &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/m-memory-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/m-memory-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 21 Sep 2015 07:30:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food/Drink]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Memory]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Prized Possessions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Roses in December]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Senses]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Short Term Memory]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8842</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  “God gave us our memories so we might have roses in December” You would be surprised how much you can pick up while dining on a ham and cheese sandwich, three bread and butter pickles and a can of 7up. You might even be shocked what you may learn on a Friday at noon while sitting around consuming a weekly traditional Friday McDonald’s Fish Filet. You would certainly be astonished to discover what can be absorbed while sitting around the dining room table after a Sunday family dinner over coffee and a piece of pie. Most of the memories in my life are not shrines to individual occurrences but a museum of eclectic experiences that draw on meaningful connections meriting reservation deep in the vault of my mind. These collections are deeply enriched with attributes of all the senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, touch – the more of the senses that are involved with a meaningful experience, the clearer the memory. For me, emotion is the X-factor in my personal memory because in recalling a vivid memory I can likely tell you how I felt in that exact moment. Food plays an important role in memory for me personally. Most of the meaningful education that I would ever receive was not obtained in a classroom, on an athletic field, or on the job, but around the dinner table. This is where I learned to communicate, manners and respect and about my family’s heritage. It was here that I also learned the art of storytelling and to appreciate the craft of an authentic, genuine narrative. Maybe that is why I became a history teacher. Some of my most fond memories were of the chronicles, sidetracks and matter-of-facts that my grandparents would tell during and after a Sunday family dinner. Most often we would take turns exchanging material on a topic only soon to be lost in a distant memory of “who is he/she related to” and “how do we know this person so-and-so and to whom is he/she related”. This traditionally would go on for hours leaving me glued to the finish of our dining room chairs and convinced that my grandparents knew every single person on the face of the earth. Many of those stories are now lost upon me either because I could not follow the viney scaffolds and extensions of our family tree or because it has been replaced in my mind with something far less meaningful, for which I am ashamed to admit. One of my most prized possessions is my memory. One of my biggest fears is losing this possession. I often get after my wife because I believe that we do not take enough pictures of our family and experiences. A memory I will never forget is from the 6th grade. Our teacher chose to do a class service project for senior citizens in a local assisted living home. I was so excited when I learned that it was the same home that my great-grandmother was in. Each member of the class was to be assigned to one member of the home and to create a greeting card to deliver on a visit during the late fall. I made sure that my great-grandmother would be receiving my card during our class visit. My great-grandmother had been placed in assisted living because she was suffering from severe Alzheimer’s disease. Periodically, I would ride along with my grandfather to visit her. At a very young age I saw her on very good days and very bad days. I remember how scared and horrible I felt when she did not recognize my grandpa. During my excited preparation for the delivery of my greeting card to my great-grandmother, my mother cautioned me that she may not recognize me on the day of our class visit. I shrugged it off and had a strong feeling that she would be having a good day when I would stop by. On the day of our class visit the senior home I could hardly contain my excitement. I was the only one in my class who had a relative staying here and I of course let everyone know that I was going to see my great-grandmother that day. To help out, my grandpa let me tag along on a visit a few weeks before to potentially help increase the odds that she would recognize me. He never told me that, but I knew what that visit was all about.  When I arrived I spoke softly and clearly. I introduced myself and handed her my card.  After she read the card she thanked me.  I wanted to make sure she recognized me. I reintroduced myself by stating my name and that I was her great-grandson.  She replied, “Oh yes, you are Rhoda’s son.” I was elated! I couldn’t believe that she remembered!  Looking back to that visit I believe I had five good minutes with her. It was just long enough to feel confident to safely give her a hug and a kiss and introduce her to my best friends. Quickly, I would transform from family member to complete stranger. By the end of the visit she had no idea who I was. As I walked back to the school bus I did everything that I could to hold back my tears. I grew up a lot that day. Even as painful as that experience was I learned a lot from what memory can and cannot be.  Over my lifetime I have developed an innate ability to remember. I had a best friend in high school that told everyone that he didn’t need to remember anything because I would remember it for him. In high school I was a walking Rolodex, telephone book, sports encyclopedia and jukebox. I could tell you when, where, stats, lyrics and just about anyone’s telephone number (pre-cell phones, folks). I suffered several head injuries before I was the age of eighteen. With all of today’s neurological studies on the brain, most notably in contact sports, I would have likely been disallowed from playing high school football if these findings had existed then. One of the worst concussions I ever experienced was in 4th grade where a sled riding accident left me not knowing who I was for nearly 48 hours.  Several other minor sports related concussions would follow. Around the time I was a sophomore in college I started to notice that I was losing my short term memory at a very rapid rate. I was not sharp and I grew increasingly frustrated that I had become extremely forgetful virtually overnight. I feared that the consequences of too many concussions had caught up with me. I was scared to see a doctor, flashing back to thoughts of my great-grandmother and what a life without memory was like. I decided that rather than seek medical attention that I would try to retrain myself to remember day-to-day activities. I bought myself a bunch of post-its and began to write down various to-do lists for tasks that I had coming up that day, week, the following week and the month. Each day I reviewed the post-its (some days several times) and soon I retrained myself to remember short-term. Still do this day I have to write things down. I am convinced it is not because I need it, but simply good sound organizational practice to be thorough and reliable. My biggest fear is that at some point in my life I will have absorbed so much meaningless information that it will begin prioritizing space in my brain; much like a computer hard drive or the dwindling memory of a base model iPhone. What to store and what to delete? Do I/Will I have control over that? In education, we teach students that the brain is a muscle that must be exercised or it will atrophy. If you do not use your brain power you will lose it. How can you possibly exercise the brain enough to possibly maintain all that it possesses? My brother gifted all of the groomsmen in his wedding with a leather bound journal with each member’s name engraved on the clasp. He requested that we use the journal to record out greatest life experiences. Although I do not write in the journal daily, I have committed myself to recording my greatest experiences in order to answer the question I posed at the end of the previous paragraph. Hopefully this will allow me to take back my cognitive capacity, rid myself of the cobwebs and render myself less of a victim when it comes to degenerating memories. It is my hope that I can always remember the lessons I learned over lunch with my grandparents so that I can share them with my own grandchildren. Even the lesson on how to shoot the paper off of the straw while sitting at the table (thanks, GMa!). After all, the mind is a terrible thing to waste. “Nothing is a waste that makes a memory”]]></description>
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		<title>L: Longing &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/l-longing-what-its-really-like/</link>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 14 Sep 2015 13:59:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
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		<category><![CDATA[Homegrown]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Long Lived]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Longing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[respect]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rural Living]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Small Town]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Temporary]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The Beautiful Struggle]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Town]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8757</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  This will only take a second. Usually when you long for something the feeling is often short-lived and temporary. What happens when the longing feeling has been lingering for a long, long time? I’ve been longing for: &#8230;a place where mulch beds outnumber pine straw landscaping &#8230;where the most popular cars are not Mercedes, BMW, and Lexus but instead Ford, Chevy, and Barely Runs &#8230;places where I don’t primarily need GPS to help me find a destination &#8230;a place where 12 mile drives aren’t 45-60 minute commutes &#8230;a family get together not requiring 6-months of planning &#8230;Grandparent visits &#8230;small town diners with placemats that advertise businesses I recognize &#8230;a profession in which you are respected and appreciated &#8230;an occupation with clear, reachable directives not moving targets unattainable of achieving &#8230;outdoor spaces for my sons to play that aren’t the size of postage stamps and restricted by uniform picket fences &#8230;“running to town” &#8230;seasons &#8230;start to finish rainy days &#8230;the smell of fresh cut hay &#8230;summer fires &#8230;autumn leaves &#8230;hoodies and sweatshirts &#8230;homegrown friendships &#8230;the beautiful struggle of rural living &#8230;Home.]]></description>
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		<title>K: Keeps &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/k-keeps-what-its-really-like/</link>
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		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Sep 2015 06:58:11 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
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		<category><![CDATA[Keeping]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping Promises]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping Time]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping Touch]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping up]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping Watch]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeps]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keepsakes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Precious Memories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Protect]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Safe]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Value]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8658</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  I think at times we all struggle with keeping in general &#8211; keeping up, keeping touch, keeping time, keeping watch, keeping promises. Like a safe, we keep with us what we value and hold dear. Judgment plays a huge role in deciding what we keep and what we discard if presented with too many choices. I was once told that if it no longer serves you must stop holding on and let it go. It takes a strong sense of courage to be faced with a decision to release something that you once valued to potentially replace it with a more purposeful keepsake. Keepsakes are meant to hold pieces of precious memories. Time pieces are meant to keep time. Time is kept to place a &#8220;born on date&#8221; on memories in order to ensure proper freshness for consumption. Some of the items that we keep have no expiration date. I am finding that as I get older I am much more likely to compromise on the release of material items if in return my mind would have the capacity to keep and store more memories. Keeping up with the Jones&#8217; falls into similar categories as the poor company you keep and not being your brother&#8217;s keeper. Innocence makes us believe that bad things may never happen to us. When major adversity strikes it is difficult to keep the faith. In these situations it is important to keep your head, sanity and enthusiasm in proper working order. I think the line is, &#8220;KEEP SWIMMING!&#8221;, right? It is also important to protect what we value most and keep it safe. Besides your family, your dreams should be kept with great regard. Dreams should be protected with the watchful skill of a goalkeeper, maintained with the meticulous eye of a greens keeper and held close like a short-yardage quarterback keeper. Keep them as fresh as possible like a Tupperware food keeper, but readily and easily accessible like the Velcro on a Trapper Keeper…even if they are wild and possibly in need of being tamed by a zoo keeper. As corny as my analogies are and all joking aside, the things we keep are serious business. Life is all about playing for keeps. Casey Kasem had it figured out when he said, &#8220;Keep your feet in the ground and keep reaching for the stars!&#8221; By accident or total coincidence, Kasem also begins with the letter &#8216;K&#8217;. This post just keeps getting better and better all the time! &#160;]]></description>
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		<title>J: Judgment &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/j-judgment-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/j-judgment-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 24 Aug 2015 04:28:33 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Headlines]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hospitality]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Inner Voice]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Judgment]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Know When To Fold Em]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Know When To Hold Em]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Race]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Right-of-Way]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Southern]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Stereotypes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The Gambler]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8569</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  Judgment &#8211; some have more of it than others. Some good, some bad. Its juxtaposition has its dilemmas: When to advance/when to withdraw When to have one more/when to close the tab When to take a risk/when to take a conservative route When to adjust course and audible/when to stick to the game plan The ultimate lesson in judgment comes from the sage lyrics of Kenny Rogers’ – “The Gambler”: You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em Know when to fold ‘em Know when to walk away Know when to run You never count your money When you’re sittin’ at the table There’ll be time enough for countin’ When the dealin’s done I remember as a boy playing this album on my parents’ 78 RPM record player and singing the lyrics at the top of my lungs. At the time, I really had no idea what the lyrics meant. All I could picture was a bunch of cowboys sitting around a table playing cards; which could not have been any more badass to a young boy. This song pops into my head or plays on the radio every so often. Each time it plays the lyrics seem to ring a bit less hollow as I age. In addition, the older I get the more I understand and realize a high percentage of most people do not possess the capacity of judgment, let along good judgment. You are always told, “use your best judgment” when tasked with non-critical decision making. I think some aspects of judgment are hereditary and others are learned behavior.  Some are just plain stupid. I am convinced that there are people whose inner voice screams much louder when it comes to identifying what is right and wrong. An example of this lack of the inner voice is when someone would risk pleasing another while jeopardizing the well-being of themselves and others. The situation I am about to describe is likely not what you are thinking. It is a classic case of Southern hospitality gone bad. Since moving to the northern suburbs of Atlanta I have discovered an epidemic of questionable judgment while driving. In South Georgia it was more common to not use your turn signal that it was to use it. While the majority of ATLians signal to turn and switch lanes, several of its rural suburban drivers possess a habit to yield the right away.  Never in my life have I have seen so many people willing to completely stop their car, at the risk of being rear-ended, to allow a person stopped at a stop sign to advance in front of them. Recently, I was a waiting to turn left at a ‘T’ stop sign. When I looked to my right I saw an oncoming car approaching at the rate of approximately 45mph. I patiently waited for the car to pass by before executing my left hand turn. As I looked right to check the opposite direction and look left again I noticed that the car I was waiting for to pass by was at a complete stop in the road at the 2 o’clock position in front of me. I figured they were making a cautious, un-signaled turn left in front of me. Instead I became shocked when I noticed the driver gesturing for me to turn left in front of her. My jaw about hit the floorboard of my truck. Only two days before I saw a similar scenario play out in front of me that nearly became a horrific 5-6 car crash. With precious cargo in my vehicle (my son) I decided that I would stay put. The driver refused to take no for an answer as she denied my waves for her to continue. I became angry towards her for putting me and my son at risk and substituted the wave gesture to an emphatic slow 180-degree shake of my head while screaming, “NO!  NO! NO!  YOU GO!” The standoff seemed to have lasted five minutes, but was probably 20-30 seconds total. By the end of the confrontation the line of traffic waiting to advance to the stop sign began honking their horns at me to move and there was a line of right-of-way traffic mounting behind the overly generous female driver that I am now convinced was trying to get me killed. I finally checked one last time to my left and floored it out of there. If I were to have got into an accident there who would have been at fault? Me.  Just follow the rules of the road! This is one example of EXTREMELY POOR JUDGMENT. A few days ago I was scanning through news headlines online. I read a title that alarmed me. The headline previewed a story that highlighted a police officer that should have discharged his weapon in the line of duty for the protection of himself and the welfare of the community but feared doing so because the criminal suspect was an armed African-American teenager. In the middle of an armed altercation the officer cited that for a split second he actually considered not returning fire with the armed suspect out of fear of becoming the country’s next Darren Wilson (the officer who shot Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri over one year ago). Lapse in judgment and lack of clarity can be catastrophic in life or death situations. In this instance, it prevented this officer from properly doing his job. Passing judgment is the worst kind of judgment. It can be difficult to rid your mind of stereotypes, labels and pre-conceived thoughts toward individuals you do not know. Even if you think you know someone it can still occur. Many of my male colleagues have wives that do not work. There are times after my wife and I have had a long week of work I find myself building up resentment toward some of those families. The feeling gets stronger each time I pay the bill to my son’s daycare. Part of me feels robbed not only economically for the deep financial commitment for preschool, but to the time that my wife and I lose with our sons because we both choose to work. Passing judgment just as yielding the right-of-way may not be in the best interests or the well-being of you and those around you. Truth be told, when it comes to the assessment of your judging others you’ll probably be the judge of that.]]></description>
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		<title>I: Innocence &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/i-innocence-what-its-really-like/</link>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 17 Aug 2015 07:30:01 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Boys]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Clarity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[dreams]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Eyes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Eyes of a Newborn]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Faith]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fatherhood]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hope]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Innocence]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Optimism]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Seasons]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sons]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Thoughts]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8429</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  This week I was blessed to witness the birth of my second son. Beyond the pregnancy preparation and build up to delivery there is a substantial amount of clarity that I have cherished experiencing when looking into the eyes of a newborn.  Thoughts on Innocence: Superman underwear and blanket capes Neighborhood backyard baseball, football games Summer bike rides for transportation before driver’s licenses Childhood heroes Santa Claus, Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy Snipe hunts in your Uncle’s bushes Holding hands and sneaking your first kiss at recess The voice of a father reading “’Twas the Night Before Christmas” on Christmas Eve The uncontrollable giggle child being tickled The expensive toy and the priceless box When it’s homemade Monsters in your closet, lava around your bed Blanket forts A child and his first pet Wearing Daddy and Mommy’s shoes Hug and a kiss to make it all better “Do you like me?  Yes, No, Maybe – Circle One” The seasons of innocence: The stillness of morning before the sunrise The calming of daytime winds at sunset The untouched ground after new fallen snow The birds’ song of an awakening spring The peepers/crickets’ song during the spring The soft, steady summer thunderstorm rain The crisp, fall breeze through a wind chime 12:00:01 on New Years’ Day HOPE OPTIMISM FAITH DREAMS Rather than live in fear of all that can harm my children in the large world of the unknown I am eagerly anticipating all my boys have to look forward to. Today I am walking straighter, speaking clearer and seeing farther. Today I am a father (again). &#160;]]></description>
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		<title>H: Holding On &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/h-holding-on-what-its-really-like/</link>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 10 Aug 2015 07:30:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Force of Habit]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hoarding]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Holding On]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Inventory]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keep or Delete]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Necessity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Nostalgia]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Organization]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Survival]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Survive]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8265</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  I just got off of a Facetime chat with my brother where during the conversation he made fun of an old baseball t-shirt I was wearing. It is usually customary for him to follow up ribbing observations with a few jabs to get his point across. He followed up his statement saying something to the effect of, “…all these years and you still have your letterman’s jacket on…” Clothing is something that I do not compromise with when it comes to wearing an item and wearing it out. I’m cheap. Most of the garments I own are worn until complete exhaustion. Each year at least quarterly my wife will boldly announce while folding laundry, “if you can see through the underwear, it is time for them to go!” After doing a bit of cleaning and reorganizing this weekend in preparation for our new baby to be born I started thinking: What is the appropriate line/balance for holding on? Presently, I am experiencing holding on for dear life. My wife is scheduled to give birth to our second son in a matter of days and school will have started by the time you are reading this. In addition to all of the madness of cleaning and prepping for the baby’s arrival at home, I have had to almost completely start over at school (new room, new classes, creating sub plans for my lengthy absence, etc.) Although we have been in our new house for almost a year, I spent the better part of my weekend going through boxes packed away to make room for our newest family member. Between moving our residence and relocating my classroom, I have begun to completely root out all items that are non-essential. There are very few things I hate in life; moving is one of them. When my wife and I moved in together for the first time she immediately took notice to my archive of items that I had brought along to our new home. She particularly focused on the massive number of t-shirts and several boxes of books and notebooks I had kept from high school and college. What began as a mockery soon turned into scorn with no suitable place to store the boxes as there had been in my parents’ basement. The harmless boxes and stacks of t-shirts turned into a source of conflict and begrudgingly I started to throw out some of my reserve. Each of the four times we have moved over the past four years a little bit of accumulation has been eliminated bit by bit. Let’s get this straight: I am not a hoarder. I do not know why I act as if I live in the Depression Era and that I must squeeze every ounce of use out of an item before discarding it. I have tried to think back to why I might have developed this habit. It may have started as a young boy the first moment I saw my dad’s basement hardware shelf. He had carefully and meticulously organized all of his loose nuts, bolts, washers, nails and screws into glass Gerber baby food jars. After my brother and I finished the food from the jars they were cleaned and recycled by my father for hardware organization. I bet you cannot guess who currently also uses that same organizing system in his garage. I blame you, Dad. I can make the same arguments for several items like my school notebooks and t-shirt collection. Justification, in my mind, can be made to items that I continue to hold on to due to their effective and overall resourcefulness. For example, the padded seat tops to broken barstools are now a booster seat at our dining room table for my son. Many could argue that I show the classic signs of initially becoming a full-blown hoarder and am well on my way into starring in an episode of Hoarders or My Strange Addiction. You need not worry about that happening because I cannot stand clutter. I am thoroughly convinced that most items have multiple uses and you may never know when you might need an item down the line. My cell phone is an iPhone 4S. Many people have asked me why I don’t upgrade. Much like some of my see-through, holy underwear I choose not to upgrade because it still works. Currently on my phone I have 1,767 pictures, 23 videos and approximately 100 apps. It is common for there to be under 20MB of space left on my phone, forcing me into a huge dilemma of what to keep and what to delete. I certainly do not regularly use the 100+ apps that I have downloaded.  Usually, they are the first to get cleaned out. However, I find myself running into the same problem that I have with household items. Just because there is a chance I may use it someday down the road makes me feel inclined to keep it. Out of the near 1,800 pictures on my phone most of them are of my son. I am preparing myself for another major phone cleaning to guarantee adequate memory space prior to my second son being born. I have several backups of the pictures on computers and external drives. For some reason, I can’t get myself to completely wipe away all of the pictures and start fresh. Why do I hold on to something that I know I already have stored? Applying this question is not only applicable to phone memory but human memory as well. What items do we choose to hold on to and what are we able to retain? Just like the items in my house and the pictures on my phone I fear of losing what is important or could potentially be used in an alternative capacity later on. Hanging on to things can be both positive and negative. Hanging on to a picture or a pleasant memory might be good. Hanging on to a grudge might not be so good. What causes us to continue hanging on? Survival, necessity, nostalgia, force of habit?  Everyone will have a different answer. Take it from a guy who white knuckles a few things in his own life – don’t be afraid to audit your own inventory every once in a while.]]></description>
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