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Ads, a friend of mine from England, left some challenging questions after my post last week where the guy who gives bad names showed up and tried to convince me to get a job instead of trying to make it full time as a writer.  A few of Ads’ questions, which can be found in full in the comments of that day’s posts, were as follows:

*****

“Are there not some answers to be had from weighing up priorities and whats actually important?

Maybe the guy peering over your shoulder is giving some welcome guidance?

Just because you were looking for work, were you actually losing faith or adapting to the current situation in the most logical way?

*****

First of all, great questions. I love comments like these (unless they have to do with sweet tarts) because they really make me look back AGAIN and think through what I’ve written.

Secondly, I do believe in practicality. Many times the things we need are right there in front of our faces, and if we just slow down enough we’ll recognize them.

So in my situation, why shouldn’t I have continued looking for a job while I was writing?  That seems like a practical thing to do, right? Great questions, Ads.  I had to really stop and think about this.

The following are some things that I try to keep in mind when making life-direction-type decisions, and hopefully you’ll see why I’m still so angry at the guy who gives bad names, especially when I see how he deceives a lot of my friends.

1) What is my prime motivation? In the late months of last year and even the beginning of this year my prime motivation for finding a new job was to make more money and to be emotionally comfortable.  I already had enough income lined up to live off my writing for a few months.  More money is not inherently bad, but more money when it comes at the expense of time to fulfill my identity is ALWAYS bad.  Mr. Bad Names guy was playing off my weakness for more money and trying to divert my focus from writing.

2) Will the result of my decision put me in a place of comfort or a place of challenge? Most people I know who live their lives in a place of comfort for significant amounts of time begin to experience physical, emotional and spiritual atrophy.  What if you chose to live life in a place of complete physical comfort, like a bed or a recliner?  Your muscles would atrophy.  Same goes for your emotional and spiritual life.  If you choose comfort over everything else, all the time, those parts of you will grow thin and anemic.  As Anne Lamott’s father wrote, “a life oriented to leisure is, after all, a life oriented to death, the greatest leisure of all.”

3) Don’t make decisions based on lies. The voice in my head trying to persuade me to get  a job was basing his argument on a few key lies that struck a chord with me: your family is suffering (not true), you’re out of money (almost true but not quite), you can’t write full time and make a living (untested so neither true nor false), if you try to write for a living you’ll live in your parent’s basement forever (not true), a job would give you more security (not true – I know plenty of people in this economy who were unexpectedly laid off – working for someone else is one of the largest providers of a false sense of security in our world today).

4) Don’t make decisions based on fear. In my opinion there are two types of fear: healthy fear and unhealthy fear.  Healthy fear is based on facts and always motivates you to productive action (for example, you take a wrong turn at the zoo and wind up in the gorilla enclosure, leading you to get the heck out of there as soon as possible). Unhealthy fear is based on worries about the future that might not happen and paralyze you  (ie you take a wrong turn at the zoo and THINK you might be in the gorilla enclosure, even though you’re in the petting zoo, and just the thought of that situation makes you fall to the ground and curl up in the fetal position).

5) Seeking God and trusting his leading. This might sound a little hokey to any of you folks who are not Christians or who do not believe in God.  I apologize for that (you can just stick to the first four if you’re more comfortable with those). But for about 6 months before Maile and I decided to move to Pennsylvania we prayed and studied scripture and asked God what he wanted us to do.  Certain specific circumstances, as well as an overwhelming sense of his peace, led us to the decision that I should give writing a try for at least 6 months.  So when I started feeling doubt and worry about halfway through that time, I knew it wasn’t God talking.

Wow.  Really long post.  What do you guys think?  Am I nuts?  Are there things you try to keep in mind when making big, life-altering decisions?  Or do you just go with whatever the Magic 8 ball suggests?

For those of you who have never read Bryan Allain’s blog, do yourselves a favor and get on over there (after you read this post).  I met Bryan after we moved back here to Lancaster, and he’s been kind enough to mentor me through the blogging process.  We often meet up for breakfast and daydream about that next book deal.  I don’t think his is far off – he is a talented writer and perhaps the most humorous blogger I know.

So, without further ado, give it up for … Bryan Allain!

*****

I’ve met Shawn in person, and for those you haven’t let me assure you that he’s a normal dude. Having said that, let me also inform you that he and his wife (and their 4 kids too) have done something very not normal.

They’ve given up TV for all of 2010.

He’s talked quite a bit here at his blog about why they’re doing it and the benefits they’ve discovered from turning off the idiot box. And even though I understand it, I’m not sure I could ever do it.

Am I addicted to TV? No, I don’t think so. (Stop nodding your head and smirking) But there are some legitimate reasons why I love it. Cue the Top Ten music!

Top 10 Reasons I Love TV

1. LOST – Sure, this last season has had its ups and downs, but I have never in my life been so invested in a show that has delivered time and again. Characters that move me, intricate mythologies that puzzle me, and plots that captivate me week after week. If you’ve never seen the show do yourself a favor and avoid all they hype and talk surrounding the May 23rd finale so you can start watching the series from Season 1 Episode 1 this summer. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

2. LOST – Just wanted to make sure you knew I was being serious in that first point.

3. Veg Time as a Couple – After a long day of work, house work, yard work, running the kids around, running yourself around, and settling 172 sibling arguments, sometimes you just want to sit on the couch and not think…together as a couple. And that’s what the TV does best.

4. Comedy – Writing humor is what I love to do, and TV helps me see the difference between old, tired jokes that go for the easy laugh (most Two and a Half Men jokes, for example) and some of the most brilliant comedy writing on TV today (30 Rock, Parks and Rec, etc.). Seriously, 30 Rock is killing it right now. Tracy Morgan’s character said something to this effect in last week’s episode: “But I CAN’T change, Kenneth! I’m like a chameleon. I’ll ALWAYS be a lizard.” Amazing.

5. Seeing how Your kids react to intense situations – There’s a new show on NBC called Minute to Win it where people have 60 seconds to accomplish a menial, yet difficult task. Right away our kids were into it, which was hilarious, but I couldn’t believe how different their reactions were to the intensity of the show. Kylie, our 8-year old daughter, couldn’t take her eyes off the screen as the seconds ticked down, but Parker, our 7-year old son, ran out of the room yelling, “I can’t watch!”. I guess I need to add “Learning how to handle pressure” to the list of future daddy-son talks.

6. The Local News – haha. Totally kidding. I’d rather watch YOUR kid’s Christmas recital than the local evening news. “Coming up after the break, 3 more depressing stories that will ruin your good mood and a hilarious video of a cat on the loose in the Park City Mall….and a look at that 7-day forecast that you can’t get anywhere else, certainly not on the internet.”

7. Quality Time as a Family – Don’t get me wrong, if ALL you did together was watch tv, you’d suck as parents. But it’s fun to have a couple shows that you enjoy together like the aforementioned Minute to Win it and America’s Funniest Home Videos (very underrated).

8. Live Sporting Events – You don’t need me to tell you why sports are great. You already either love them or hate them. I enjoy watching great athletes perform because I’ve tried to play their games and know how tough it is, and because I love seeing performers excel at what they do. And when you think about it, sports are the original Reality TV. Unscripted moments where people are acting and reacting to what’s happening around them. Which reminds me…

9. Reality TV – No, I’m not joking. I know Reality TV has been reduced to nothing more than a punch line recently, but amid all the crap (and there is A LOT of crap) there remains some good options out there. Survivor and the Amazing Race have their formulas down pat, and always give you a great hour of television. For people who love fashion, Project Runway is the best thing since sliced pant legs, and for folks who like to watch other people live boring lives, there’s always Big Brother. Have I mentioned that Erica and I have never missed a season of Big Brother? No? Good, let’s move on.

10. 22 minutes of sanity – There are times as a parent when you just need to catch your breath and make sure you’re not going insane. In those moments, it’s nice to be able to throw the TV on for the kids and gather your thoughts off the kitchen floor while they watch The Suite Life of Zach and Cody. Sadly, too many parents abuse this tactic and have kids who watch 3 hours of TV a day. But in small doses, TV can be a great way to keep you from going nuts.

So yeah, there’s not quite 10 Things I love about TV. Do you have anything you want to add to the list?

And let me say this too, for every reason I love TV, there’s a reason I don’t like it as well. I’m anxious to hear more thoughts from Shawn on how his TV experiment goes through the rest of the year, and interested to see if he comes back to the idiot box in 2011.

And have I mentioned this show called LOST…

(When Bryan’s not watching TV he’s usually writing about the humorous side of life, faith, pop culture, and living among the Amish for his blog, BryanAllain.com. You can also find him on Twitter at twitter.com/bryanallain.)


As I finished reading through Tyler Stanton‘s book, Everyday Absurdities, a few random thoughts came to mind.

1) Why did he stop at 97 pages? He had me laughing out loud and should have kept going.

2) Why are there 6 blank pages in the back? These would have provided an ideal canvas for more funnyisms.

3) Every bathroom in the world, or at least in Lancaster County, PA, should have a little pouch made especially to hold a copy of Everyday Absurdities. In fact, every one of these pouches should come supplied with a copy of the book.  (Don’t worry Bryan, I didn’t read your copy in the bathroom . . . oops . . . don’t worry, Tyler, I’ve ordered a copy of your book but it didn’t get here in time for me to read and review for today).

Alrighty then.

Before I get myself into any more trouble, here’s an excerpt from the book.

*****

An Open Letter To Hotels

Thank you for housing me every now and then.  I enjoy your HBO and free newspapers. Oh, and your free breakfast. There are, however, a few things that you could do to enhance the experience for all of us who reluctantly pay for your overpriced lodging.

1. Please don’t act mad at me when I’m checking in. . .

2. Please start washing the comforters. We all know that earlier in the day, a naked, sweaty, fat man sat on the comforter while he blow-dried his hair.  I know you can neither confirm nor deny this, but the least you could do is have the housekeeper bring a new comforter to my door, shrink-wrapped like an airline blanket (the cleanest object on planet Earth).

3. Please choose a shampoo that doesn’t smell like a condiment. . . I can’t afford to go to that meeting with my skin smelling like I just bathed in tartar sauce.

*****

There’s sections on eating, shopping, men, entertainment, observations and travel, just to name a few.  Then there’s my personal favorite, A Million Peeves, some of which are Splitting Bills, Hug/Handshake Mixups, Using Another Guy’s Towel, and Post Oil Change Conversation.

We really don’t laugh enough these days, especially while reading.  Everyday Absurdities by Tyler Stanton = guaranteed laughter.

Buy it HERE . . . (it’s the one at the bottom left-hand corner that’s kind of hard to see, what with the white on white.  I guess my bookstore needs a paint job)

*****

If you want to find out more about Tyler Stanton, visit his blog tylerstanton.com .  He’s got some hilarious videos as well.  Check it out.

Problem #1 – This well-dressed dude kept showing up, just about everywhere that I went.

Problem #2 – A lot of the things he said made sense to me.

Problem #3 – He just wouldn’t shut up.

“Is it really fair for you to live out this little dream at the expense of your kids?” he asked me one morning, again in the cafe.  “After all, if you got a real job you would have better insurance for when they got sick, and you could buy them nicer stuff, and they’d probably be happier.  You could feel good about moving out of that basement that sometimes smells like sewage when the washer line gets backed up.”

I sighed.

“It’s not a little dream.  It’s my identity. It’s who I am.”

He laughed, one of those scoffing, reverse sniffs through his nose, as if he was trying to remove the smallest of gnats (the g is silent).

“Your identity.  Whatever.  It’s not your identity- it just makes you happy.  Isn’t that kind of selfish?”

I shook my head, but that one hit below the belt.

“It’s not about happiness,” I insisted.  “It’s about purpose.”

He nodded knowingly, as if he had heard that one far too often.

“Okay, so let’s assume it is your ‘purpose’,” and here he raised his hands and made those annoying little air-quotation marks.  “Don’t you think God also wants you to be practical, to be able to pay the bills, to address that little debt issue you have from your last little business?”

The last part he said with a knowing glance and looked around, as if he may have said it too loud, as if someone else may have heard.

“What should I do?” I asked in a pathetic half whisper, feeling my defenses crumbling.

“Get a job,” he insisted, soothingly.  “Get something that will provide you with a decent income.  A matching 401k.  For goodness sake stop lying to yourself that you can make a life doing whatever you want.  That’s reckless.  That’s irresponsible. You can work 50-60 hours a week and still find plenty of time to write.”

“You are sooooo practical,” I mumbled at first, but something inside of me came alive.  Suddenly I remembered that this is the same guy who wanted to rename my son.  This guy didn’t care about me!

My voice began to rise and got louder with each word.

“Since when do you care if I get out of debt, or pay my bills?  You’re the one who’s always telling me to go look at the big screen tvs when we’re in Walmart – we don’t even watch tv right now!  All you care about is castrating my life so that I wander around like one of those retired bulls they’re getting ready to slaughter!  All you care about is stuffing me in a safe little box where I won’t do anything of consequence!”

By now I was shouting.

“Just shut up!  Stop lying to me!  I have as much security right now as anyone in this country with a full-time job who could get their two-weeks notice any day!  And the big man upstairs is signing my checks!”

I looked wildly around the cafe.  Did I say that stuff out loud?  The big man upstairs?  Were my discussions with this guy turning me into some sort of gigantic cheeseball?

A long breath came in one long gust out of my mouth, and I cracked my neck.  No one was looking at me.  That was a good sign.

And the guy was gone, at least for the time being.  That was even better.

I took out my journal and began to write:

December 18, 2009 8:48am

Feeling lots of uncertainty and a slight tinge of worry recently, regarding this coming year, even though I don’t want to and don’t necessarily have to.  I’ve got enough jobs lined up to keep our bills paid for a few months.  I think I was putting more hope and trust in getting a job than in God.  I need to get back to where I was a few weeks ago – absolute trust in him and the plan that he has, not any sort of half-assed plan that I can put together.

Then I wrote this verse:

Psalm 13 : 5-6 But I trust in your unfailing love. I will rejoice because you have rescued me.  I will sing to the LORD because he has been so good to me.

And this quote by Anne Lamott:

“The opposite of faith isn’t doubt – it’s certainty.”

*****

To read the next post in this storyline, click HERE

If you want to read the VERY BEGINNING of this story click HERE.  It tells about how, as a family of 6, we moved from VA to PA and into my parent’s basement, and how we decided I should give full-time writing a shot.

First, a couple of announcements – the winner of last week’s Imaginary Jesus contest is Andy McCollough.  Congratulations Andy!  Just let me know where you would like your copy of Imaginary Jesus sent (em me at shawnsmucker@yahoo.com)

Secondly, Tuesday’s are normally reserved for Tuesday’s Top Ten, but we’re switching things up a little this week.  I’m going to continue with the story I started yesterday, and Bryan Allain is going to take over the Top Ten as a guest post on Friday.  Rumor has it, he is doing a Top 10 Reasons TV is Good (or some impossible rubbish along those lines) – as some of you know, my wife and I have given up TV for the year, so I find this particularly vexing (but not as vexing as his constant bashing of Sweet Tarts).

Anyway, thanks for reading.  On with the story.

*****

“Hey, how’s it going?” the guy in the suit asked.  The guy with too much cologne on.  The guy that looked like a lawyer from the early 1900s.

“Pretty good,” I said, pushing my headphone earbuds in tighter, turning up the music.  He didn’t get the hint.

“What are you doing?”

“Just writing.”

“Yeah, I hear you think you can make a living doing that?” he said, not in a mocking voice, but more the voice of a concerned, responsible counselor.

“I’ve got a couple deals lined up,” I said, shrugging.  “Should get us started, anyway.”

“Huh,” he said, but I could tell his wheels were turning.

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?”

“Do you really?  A couple of deals?”

“Well, there’s one,” I said defensively.

“Is there?”

“Well, kind of.  Almost for sure.  I’ll find out soon.”

“But what if that one doesn’t come through?”

Silence.

“Are you sure this is responsible?” he asked.  “Doesn’t your family deserve more than this?  I mean, you can always write on the side, right?”

I didn’t know what to say, but decided to continue with my mumbling defense.

“It’ll work out,” I said.  “We’ve got a few months of income left.  I’ll find more work before then.”

He raised his eyebrows.  I stared hard at my computer.  I couldn’t write with this guy over there, chattering like a cricket.

“Can you just shut up so I can concentrate?  You’re driving me crazy!”

“Pardon me?”

I looked up.  It was the waitress.  The guy in the suit was gone.

“Sorry,” I said.  “I’m okay.  I mean, I don’t need anything.”

She looked a little worried, as if I might stand up on one of the tables and start reciting Greek epics.  Or stick a fork in my own eye.

But even though that guy had left, I could still feel him there, peering over my shoulder. Suddenly the whole idea that I could live my life doing something fun and exciting and meaningful felt stupid, and naive, and irresponsible.  I started walking around like a foreign spy, my neck shortened, my eyes darting from side to side.  When we first moved to Pennsylvania I was happy to tell people what I was doing.  Trying to make a living by writing.  But the more time passed, the more this guy in the suit convinced me it was selfish, and unattainable.

I changed the way I interacted with people:

“Hey, Shawn,” they’d say, “welcome back to Lancaster!” And at some point in the conversation: “So what are you up to?”

And instead of just saying, “I’m writing,” I’d say, “Oh, I’m writing for now, just for a few months, to see how it goes, you know, and if it doesn’t work out then I’ll look for something else.”

I started preparing myself for failure.  And soon, even though a few writing projects did come in, I started looking for a full time job.  I was losing faith.

*****

To read the next post in this story, click HERE

To see the VERY beginning of this story, click HERE

We arrived at my parent’s house late that night, about 10:00, and the place was dark and empty.  Mom and Dad were on a trip to Africa, and my only sister still living at home was at a friend’s house.  It felt like a lot of other nights arriving at mom and dad’s house, except now we were there to live.

We carried our four sleeping kids into the house, through the rain, shushing and holding their heads close against our shoulders.  Soon they were deposited in beds, sleeping soundly, totally oblivious to how their lives had just changed.  Maile’s parents found a place to lay down, on some sofa or other.  Maile and I slept on a small bed in the basement.

The house was quiet.  We were there.  It was done.

But I kept thinking about this identity thing.  Who was I?  What was I doing here?  Was this crazy move home all part of me discovering this stuff?  Could there be a purpose to this, or were we just simply experiencing a setback?

Could our situation have God stumped?  Did all of this catch him off guard?

And I couldn’t help feeling forgotten. It seemed we had such high hopes, and none of them had come to fruition.

Hey, God, I whispered to the dark basement ceiling.  Remember me?

Nothing. No answer.  Just quiet.

Hey, God, I whispered again.  Do you know about this?  Have you seen this since the beginning of time?  Or are you flamboozled?  Can you be flamboozled?

Can God be flamboozled?

The next morning we woke up early and started moving in to my parent’s basement, endlessly unpacking boxes.  It’s a real nice basement, with a separate bedroom, bathroom and tiny kitchen-type area.  The three kids would sleep in the bedroom, and Sam, Maile and I would sleep in the main area.  It was a far cry from our huge place in Virginia,  but it would work. Still, every few minutes Maile and I would look at each other and give each other this cringing, smiling sort of expression.

“I can’t believe we are doing this,” she would say.

“I know, me either.  Are we crazy?”

She didn’t answer.

We got our stuff settled.  Whatever we couldn’t fit in my parent’s house ended up in storage.  We were vagabonds, squatters, living in someone else’s place, and most of our belongings were locked up (which made us really wonder, how much of that crap did we actually need?).

I still remember the first Monday after we moved – we had a lot of boxes to search through, but I was determined to get off on the right foot.  Not waste any time.  So at 8:00am I was off to the Angela’s Cafe to write.

I got a hot tea, found a comfy chair, and started typing. It was probably a few hours into my stint as a writer that the flashy guy in the nice suit came into the cafe and sat down beside me, the same one who had barged into my son Sam’s delivery room shortly after he was born.  And I still didn’t like the look of him.

What was his deal?  He just showed up wherever he wanted.  And he smelled good, but I never really trust men that smell that good.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked.

(to be continued tomorrow)

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To read the next part of this story, click here

If you want to go back to the VERY BEGINNING of this story, click here.

***

The winner of last week’s contest is Andy McCullough.  Andy, let me know where you would like your copy of Imaginary Jesus sent!  Congrats, and thanks to everyone for passing on the word last week about Matt Mikalatos’s great book.