Big Brother is Watching Your Cell Phone

I gotta tell you the truth. This scares me. The good folks in Baltimore and now going to use your cell phone to keep track of traffic patterns. Now they’ll be able to track your movements through the city whether your cell phone is in use, or not. As long as it’s turned on, they can figure out where you are. The potential for abuse is staggering.

Happy Veteran's Day

November 11 is Veteran's Day. As a USMC vet, it's an interesting day for me. I didn't serve in combat, but I did serve stateside during the Libya debacle, ermm . . . conflict.
Another fun bit for me is that November 10th is the traditional birthday of the USMC. Two days in a row I get to celebrate. How cool is that?

One of the nicest things someone ever did for me on Veteran's Day was to remember my service, and wish me a Happy Veteran's Day. "You're a vet, right?" he asked.

I know that sounds weird, but it took me by surprise. Someone cared enough to do something as simple as that for me. It made me feel good that he remembered and honored my, albeit limited, service.

Remember to tell the vets you know, will you? Believe me. It'll mean more to them than you think.

Get out and vote

It’s official. I stink. For the first time in at least five years I haven’t voted. Today, I suck.

I woke up this morning and felt terrible, so I blew off a college chemistry class and slept in. I got up, and started heading to work, realizing about half way there that I should have stopped at my local precinct and voted. I work late today, so my only hope is to get home before the precinct closes. I hope I can do that, but I’m not going to hold my breath.

Don’t follow my example. I work 40 miles from my local precinct, so I can’t just hurry and run home to do it. Get out and vote. The Iraqi people came out in droves for their first vote. We should be old hands at this. It should be second nature.

Go vote.

Guilt, anyone?

A friend of mine posted a recent blog about ; how busy his life is.; I can certainly relate.

One thing I can’t relate to is that he has a "special needs" child; he’s got cystic fibrosis. To be honest though, I hate the term "special needs." I’ve got four "normal" children and each one of them has special needs unique to them. Those needs just don’t tend to migrate to the medical extremes that my friend’s kid does.
Which, of course, makes me feel guilty when I complain to him about my life.

In spite of my shortcomings with understanding everything that goes on with his youngest son, this bit from his post was telling:

And overall, in spite of the fact that it’s filled to the brim, I’m constantly feeling like I’m not giving enough. I don’t work with Jacob on his therapies enough. I don’t get things done at my job enough. I don’t get to spend time with Jodi enough. I don’t sing or write enough. I don’t go out with the missionaries enough. It’s just not enough.

That’s how I feel, sometimes. I’m complaining a bit here, but I work 40+ hours a week at a job it takes me over an hour to drive to. That’s two hours a day, lost in traffic. I’m a student as well, putting in nine credit hours a week (which translates to 20+ hours a week if you include homework and study). I’m also a private music teacher. I’ve only got two students right now, but that sucks about 3 or four hours a week if you count prep time, as well. I’ve also got a wife and four kids to deal with. Each of them needs my time. Our church recommends “dating” our spouses. My wife and I barely find time (or money) to sit in front of the TV together for a short video, let alone go out on a date every week. Now I’ve got the director of a local community orchestra asking me to come and perform the trumpet solo for the yearly Messiah production. I’m a decent trumpet player and I like supporting the arts in the community.

Somewhere in all of that time I’m supposed to find time to pursue stress-relieving hobbies and self-development, and keep up on the bills that four growing children, and insane gas prices, create. And when any of that falls by the way side, I feel guilty for not doing what I should.

My choices these days seem less about what I want to do, as much as what I want to feel guilty about this week.