Refuse, Reuse, or make Refuse

Nine years ago, my wife and I packed all of our of worldly belongings into my Honda Civic and made for Charleston to start our lives together.  The Civic's four-cylinder engine begged for mercy from the immense weight of our stuff. The rear shocks sagged from the car's payload, which to my dismay, included a full-size ironing board.  The Honda dutifully made several more trips to Ohio and still sits in my driveway; the ironing board still hangs in my closet and sees little use.

A year later, we again packed up to move into our new house.  This time the Civic couldn't hold us and nothing less than a twenty foot U-haul would do. That day, with my father-in-law riding shotgun, I learned to drive a moving truck and a manual transmission.  I ground through the gears while he ground his teeth as 50-mph was all that truck could muster; it was a nervous time. Buying a home, moving, driving a big rig on South Carolina roadways; there was just cause for using the 'Oh shit!' handles in that van.

It only took us eight short years to outgrow our home and we find ourselves packing once more.  Having a family will do that for you, and packing this much stuff will let you know just how gluttonous we can be.  The movers have assured me that a twenty-six foot truck is all they will need.  But how? How is for them to figure out, but it has got me stressed.  Who needs this much stuff? In the course of packing I've found things I didn't even realize that I had, took three trunk loads to Goodwill, and put another three cubic yards in the local landfill.  Among the notable finds were 200 T-shirts, six bicycles, a preserved alligator head and a set of shark jaws that my dad gave me, and no less than 12 rolls of wrapping paper from Christmases past (no Christmas trees though, those are in the woods behind my house).

How does someone accumulate so much crap?  Clearly after living eight years without using any of it, I didn't need this stuff.  So why do we feel it necessary that each home in America have their own ________ (insert lawnmower, gas grill, nail gun, weed eater, or any other item currently taking up space in your garage here)?  Why not have a community shed of common items to be shared among neighbors?  Each household could have their particular day or week to use certain things.  Think of the money that could be saved; think of the fights that would ensue.  We are so accustomed to having what we want, when we want it, that we have completely abandoned our communal roots. We allow companies to profit from our wastefulness and unwillingness to share.

Next time, before you throw away that motorized tie rack from your closet, ask yourself: Can I use this for something else? Or can someone else use this? Better yet, before you buy that motorized tie rack, ask yourself: Do I really need this?  Until then, happy hoarding.

The Worst Way?

Couldn't sleep again last night.  Between anxiety, my aching knee, and the kids screaming, I just wasn't able to do it.  2:43 am:  Finally get settled back into bed.

Mind racing from this to that, it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.  This must be what it feels like to drown.  Drowning!  Yeah, that'll calm me down;  I'll just think about drowning.  My mind switches focus to an untimely fate and I feel myself gasping for breath.  What would it be like to drown?  I'm not talking about drowning in river rapids while trying to get back into your raft.  No.  No desperate gasps for air here.  This was more like the getting dumped in the Hudson while wearing concrete sneakers type.

Think about it.  Assume you sank straight to the bottom without a struggle. You are calm and can feel the pressure of the deep building in your head; you can hear your pulse slowing in your ear.  Holding out as long as possible, the lack of oxygen crushes your chest.  You know it is inevitable. You must breathe.

Instinctively you draw in a breath, only this time you half swallow, half choke on a lung-full of water. Violent coughing now ensues as your lungs are flooded with water and explode.  With the respiratory system down, the circulatory system is screaming towards cardiac arrest and therein lies the worst part:  You're toast and you're brain still knows it.  Though you've ceased being an organism, your central nervous system and all of its chemical and electrochemical reactions are still letting you know how bad your situation sucks and still letting you feel pain.  I can only imagine that things are pretty chaotic at this point.  Maxing out on endorphins and adrenaline in a last ditch, self-medicating effort, your body goes haywire while your brain fades to black.  You're dead.

Man that would suck.  Sure, you could conjure up a million more creative and seemingly worse ways to go, but this does it for me.  Suddenly, I have no desire to go to the beach again.  I need some sleep.

The Big V

So here it is; my long awaited film debut.  After much anticipation and thanks to some super cool software, I was able to write, direct, and produce my thoughts into animation instead of the normal pictures and words that you see here.  Expect to see more of these shorts in the future as they enable me to convey information and emotion in ways that I otherwise could not.

What follows proves once again that truth is more entertaining than fiction.  The names were omitted to protect the innocent and any resemblance to real life may have been completely intentional.  For most of you that have seen it (all of the six people that I know), I am sure that you won't mind watching it again.  For others, I present to you without much ado, The Big V.