Pride. Is there a better word to describe what it represents? Probably not. Is the word too big? Does it encompass too much to possibly dissect, rendering the word monumental in meaning and far too overwhelming to understand?
I don’t know.
Last night I was sitting amongst friends, one with a KJV, one with NASB, and some NIV’ers. Eloquent and regal are the two words I thought of as I heard Megan reading from Luke in the King James Version. Then I started to drift off into my own little world, paying little attention to the information at hand.
Before I continue, the purpose of this article is to achieve transparency in a world where people are faker than shit. They’re too afraid to say things like, “faker than shit.” They’re too wrapped up in their own pride to expose their flaws. I’m no judge of heart. I’ll leave that up to a force to be reckoned with, but I know that I live in a world that caters to my fears, not my successes, and that must mean that you do too. Because of this, I feel like busting free from it all. So, if you’re not prepared to handle the truth, please stop reading, because this blog is all about my truths.
So there I was, drifting off into my own little world, dreaming about possibilities, musing about potential futures, trying with all of my might to scrape the past away from the inside of my skull so I’m able to move in a positive direction and escape from this whirlpool of depression that seems to have crept into my days. Some days are great, others aren’t worth recording in history. On this particular night, my mind wandered.
Sarah and Andrew Young shared a single chair to Megan’s right. It was a lazy boy chair designed for only one seriously overweight American. They both easily fit. That’s probably because they brought the brownies for us to eat and not them. Sarah first, then to the left of her (or her right) Andrew. Sarah is quiet. I haven’t heard her talk very much in a large crowd. In a private setting she speaks. It’s good. Andrew loves engines and gadgets, and helicopters, motorcycles, and gaming. Sarah must be patient, as I know what implication gaming has on a man’s time. During my entire relationship with Susan, I never gamed. Still don’t, aside from the mind-exercising puzzle games that I chew on every so often. I used to burn hours and hours gaming. Not any more, even though I was good at it.
One chair to the right sat Mike. Mike’s a father, and by my standards, a pretty dang good one. Mike runs a successful awards manufacturing company over at NewLineTrophy.com and announced that men’s group is going to have a 9-ball pool tournament.
Baker, in an article entitled 3 Habits of Highly Responsible Credit Card Users, makes the following point:
Don’t try to beat someone at their own game. It’s not impossible to beat people who’ve spent their whole lives studying a specific game, but it’s rare to have consistent long-term success. Even if you are able to obtain a string of consistent wins, often times the price you’ve paid isn’t worth it. If I have to spend 16 hours a day studying backgammon to beat you consistently, we better be playing for some major keeps. My time is much better spent finding suckers to play my own game than studying to beat you at yours.
Having a 9-Ball tournament may be the best option for me. It’s either that or speed cart racing. Two things that I seem to excel at yet haven’t monetized. Mike heads up the men’s group meeting for NVC every other week on Tuesday nights at his house, and he’s always thinking of some way for the men to connect. 9-Ball is my thing.
One seat to the right finds Dr. Faggot. (Inside joke and reference to the Hangover.) Dave is a pediatrician, and he’s the most compassionate romantic I think I know. Don’t get me wrong, I would never divert my men-crushes away from some of those hunky Hollywood superstars, and I’m straighter than a brass pole in a strip club, but there’s something about Dave that makes you want to jab yourself in the face with a fine broken wine bottle. I mean that in the most positive way. He’s educated, versed in fine wine, loves kids, is a servant at heart, and appears so calm and collected, even if he’s not exactly that. A good friend, and most eligible bachelor I know, next to me, Mike, Jay, etc., etc., etc.
We’ll skip me.
To my right was the awesomeness they call Jay. Jay the jew. Jay the chosen one. Quick witted, sports loving, football phanatick, and analytical superstar. Jay can pick apart the details and present them to you in the most understandable way. He can mediate conversation and establish a greater understanding about what’s being said. He can play poker like a pro, and watch football like one too.
Justin, the guy who’s always smiling, and laughs at everything as though it was the first time he’s ever heard it, rounds out the list of characters at this mini-event of epic proportions. Justin is newer to me than the rest, and I haven’t had too many opportunities to get to know him, but I’m sure I will.
Transparency
We were discussing authenticity, and pride. As my brain wandered, I came to a realization. Perhaps it was more of a revelation of how to describe or explain why it is that people are so fake. The thought stemmed from something Megan had said and it made me think of all of the people who drag you down. It made me think of all of the people who continue in destructive patterns of behavior in life.
It’s clear to me that the reason people are fake with each other, hiding what’s really going on, is because they haven’t truly come to terms with their behavior enough to change it, and therefore they don’t want to let anyone know it exists. For if they did, they would have to come to terms with it and they aren’t ready to do so. So they cover it up.
Of all of the confessions I’ve heard, of all of the confidence someone has placed in me, never has someone exposed their financial patterns, because at the root of it all, your checkbook will reveal just about everything I could ever want to know about you. I’ll know where you shop, eat, sleep, entertain yourself, etc. I’ll know how frequently you overspend, I’ll know if you spend more than you make, I’ll know when you spend, and where your time and energy goes. I’ll know how much you give, if you give at all. Knowing your finances will tell me who you are.
Are you too proud to expose the truth about your life? Are you too wrapped up in what other people will think? The most difficult part of transparency is showing people who aren’t prepared to handle the raw, gritty facts what’s going on. If you’re surrounded by people who hide their personal lives to this degree, then you’re likely to be one of them too, unless you step out and take the reigns and swim the other direction.
Are you ready to swim the other direction? I wonder sometimes if I’m even ready. Lord knows I want to be ready, but am I? We’ll see. Keep reading.
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