Finding Joy in Last Place

I'm arrogant when I drive.

If someone passes me, I pass them. If someone revs their engine next to me, I rev my engine back. If someone is driving super slow, I sit behind them and rev my engine and stare into their rear view mirror so they can see me looking at them hoping they are intimidated.

Stoplights are the same way. Everything is a race to the next red light. (Which is a guarantee if you live where I live) Of course, I realize that it is unfair because the other driver doesn't know but I never care. It's a race, I don't have time to fraternize with the enemy.

I mean, come on, I'm driving a Ford Mustang and because of this I believe I should have my own designated lane where the speed limit doesn't apply. I mean, my car can do the things Conan's can, but better. (see here)

But awhile ago I realized that being first in everything on the road doesn't mean much. That this competition I call driving is a pride issue, and I must rid myself of it.

It reminded me of Donald Miller's Searching For God Knows What where he imagines Adam and Eve visiting him and his friend. Adam and Eve ask why everything is a competition, why we are always trying to "one-up" each other. Why when my sports team loses it's, "they lost" and when the win it's "we won."

It reminded me of my science teacher in eleventh grade telling us that we will never be the best at something. That there will always be someone better than us at something. It was a big downer at that point but now I realize the brilliance of it.

It reminded me of Jesus. Who everyone expected to come to earth and bring down some holy fire on the Romans. You know, go all Chuck Norris on them. But this was a new covenant, a new testament, and things were different now. Instead, Jesus went to the lowest of lows by dying on a cross.

So, regarding my driving, I slowed down, I started finding joy in last place. I didn't make it a competition because I would never be the best and I knew that being in first isn't all that it's hyped up to be. Sure, a Mustang is pretty cool, but it still gets there as fast as any other car.

Am I perfect in this? No, not at all. I still have my moments where I lose my patience and imagine the car ahead of me hitting road spikes, flipping over, (maybe an explosion?) and skidding off to the side as I zoom on by laughing (not really, but you get the picture).

So here's to knowing we're not the best, and finding joy in last place.

Unpublished Poetry : Part Three

This is what happens when you clean your room. You find a poem you wrote "way back in the day" to your friend when he was sick.

Why Are You Sick?

Josh the Bosh
Why are you sick?
are you sick with a cold?
why are you so bold?
are you sick with the flu?
did you wear that pink tutu?

Why are you sick?
You pink tutu dresser
Now, I think of you lesser
You sick dancer
You can go be prancer
you lancer.

You b-ball baller
you shot caller
just go and holler

No b-ball for you
and your silly pink tutu
for I can't see
your pink tutu
with some Nike shocks
you sick sock

Do the soundboard for school
Oh no, no, no, much to sick for that
Make poor little Matt do all of that
You sick little brat.
Why'd you make him do all that

So was it that pink tutu
because you got the flu
or was it poor little Matt
that gave you that
oh, not at all, it was that pink tutu
I bet.

So why are you sick?
You old bosh you
that stink old flu
just got you
so get better soon
oh get better soon
don't you fret
you sick old pink tutu dresser Lancette

Unpublished Poetry : Part Two

This is what happens when you clean your room. You find poems written by your friend "way back in the day." Like it or hate it, you should visit his blog.

Never Kiss A Mouse

Never kiss a mouse
Because their breath smells really bad
And if you ever kiss a mouse
you will be really sad.
Mice don't go to the dentist
To make their sharp teeth white
So they don't care if they turn yellow
So you they'll probably bite.
Even though they are so cute
It doesn't mean you can kiss them
They will say they love you
But that was way back then
Now the mice are evil
They do bad things all day
And if you ever kiss them
It is you who's gonna pay
And you will be very mad
Because they made you their prey
This rhyme is very bad
badder than all the rest
But my next one will be
the very, very, best
I will work on it all day and night
Through fire, through rain, through snow
Which I think is pretty stupid
Since you're not even a girl.