A quote I've been hearing alot lately is "I don't associate with non-christians". To me, this is a very odd quote, but it really struck home recently as to WHY I find this quote to be so upsetting. I got involved in a conversation.
Now, there's a very important piece of information you need to know before hand. As awesome as I am, as totally rocking cool as I am, as much as my friends might tell you that I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread (and I am) it just so happens that I have a huge failing. See, I'm a dick.
Anyway, I was approached by a gentleman who wanted to "share the good word". Now, because I'm a dick, I heckled him a little bit and then we got to actully talking. He told me that his calling in life is to "share the word of God and guide the people of this country to his loving embrace." Now, this in and of itself makes him sound a little crazy. I don't mind a little Yay God! every now and then, but it needs to be phrased in a way that doesn't make it sound like you've been brainwashed. But what floored me was that not two minutes later he also uttered the dreaded quote that I hear from so many -- "I don't really associate with non-christians".
Ok, so you expect people to convert to christianity because you're just so darn cool that I desperately want to be your friend? I dunno, it was always my understanding that you were expected to lead by example, be a happy and successful person, and then associate with the non-believers and SHOW them just how awesome God is. I dunno, call me crazy.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
So I know you're all wondering...
I know you're all wondering (and by "you all" I mean my sister, and the other person who googled "lefthand" and came across my blog by accident) about my ticket. According to the "magical all-knowing camera light" I went through that intersection at 80mph. I then either jumped the train, magically floated through it, or made an 80mph turn. Either way, you know it, I'm just that awesome. But meh, what's done is done.
What I really want to talk about, though, is this: my roomates. This is going to be an on-going theme. I might entitle it "I love my roomates, but..." or something along those lines. Because I do, really I do. The problem at hand, however, is that they're younger than me (I've been an "adult" roughly twice as long as them, anyone who remembers the changes in personal development between the ages of 21 and 24 knows where I'm comming from) and don't quite seem to "get it". I like keeping the house at a relative level of clean. To the point where I'm anal about some things. One of these days I'm going to find a moldy dish sponge in the bottom of the sink and kill someone with it. Or I'm gonna pull a towel out of the linen closet thats covered in cat hair, and hold someones head in the door and give them a personal lesson on the difference between "open" and "closed".
So yeah, I can be anal about some things, but the list is pretty short and usually revolves around safety (lock the damn doors), cleanliness (dry the sponge and put it somewhere else) or the cats (keep the catbox at a certain level of clean). But I have one pet peev that really trumps all the others. If you're going to offer to do something, at least take the time to do it well. Which is why, when I was told that they were going to clean the kitchen and the bathroom while I was at work, and I came home to find that the job was half done, I wasn't happy.
Now, I know what you're going to say. But Lefty, it isn't their job to clean up your mess! You should be thankful they did anything and offer to help do the rest! Yeah, bullshit. They offered to do it. They told me it was done, and it wasn't.
The kitchen had been in bad shape for awhile (since christmas, at least) and it had gotten to the point that trash was accumulating faster than I could clean it, and I couldn't muster the urge to spend two hours on it. So what did my roomate do? Finished filling the already half-full dishwasher, and started it. And... yeah, thats it. All the trash, all the hand-wash only dishes, the floor, the counters, the coffee-maker... all of them in complete shambles.
The bathroom was worse. This was the job N had offered to do. So I thought to myself "surely, even though the kitchen looked like hell, N would have done a better job on the bathroom". Yup, my self was dead wrong. The bottom of the tub had been scrubbed and... yep, once again, that was it. In her defense, the bottom of the tub was VERY CLEAN. Of course, the fact that the sides of the tub and the walls were still cakes with mineral deposits and soap scum put a damper on that. The trashcan that was still full to the point that trash was piling up around the trashcan, the dirty towels, the uneaten cake on the counter (which had been involved in a foodfight that ended in the bathroom, not eaten there), and the assortment of STUFF lying around was just too much.
I snapped a little inside. I'll admit this. There was a little bit of cursing, several uncomfortable silences, a few curt commands involving laundry in the dryer, and a linen closet door that got slammed. But now the kitchen is very clean, and the bathroom is significantly cleaner.
So I guess the point of the story is -- don'thalfass quarterass sixteenthass your way through stuff, especially if you're the one offering to do it out of the goodness of your heart. And close the damn linen closet door.
What I really want to talk about, though, is this: my roomates. This is going to be an on-going theme. I might entitle it "I love my roomates, but..." or something along those lines. Because I do, really I do. The problem at hand, however, is that they're younger than me (I've been an "adult" roughly twice as long as them, anyone who remembers the changes in personal development between the ages of 21 and 24 knows where I'm comming from) and don't quite seem to "get it". I like keeping the house at a relative level of clean. To the point where I'm anal about some things. One of these days I'm going to find a moldy dish sponge in the bottom of the sink and kill someone with it. Or I'm gonna pull a towel out of the linen closet thats covered in cat hair, and hold someones head in the door and give them a personal lesson on the difference between "open" and "closed".
So yeah, I can be anal about some things, but the list is pretty short and usually revolves around safety (lock the damn doors), cleanliness (dry the sponge and put it somewhere else) or the cats (keep the catbox at a certain level of clean). But I have one pet peev that really trumps all the others. If you're going to offer to do something, at least take the time to do it well. Which is why, when I was told that they were going to clean the kitchen and the bathroom while I was at work, and I came home to find that the job was half done, I wasn't happy.
Now, I know what you're going to say. But Lefty, it isn't their job to clean up your mess! You should be thankful they did anything and offer to help do the rest! Yeah, bullshit. They offered to do it. They told me it was done, and it wasn't.
The kitchen had been in bad shape for awhile (since christmas, at least) and it had gotten to the point that trash was accumulating faster than I could clean it, and I couldn't muster the urge to spend two hours on it. So what did my roomate do? Finished filling the already half-full dishwasher, and started it. And... yeah, thats it. All the trash, all the hand-wash only dishes, the floor, the counters, the coffee-maker... all of them in complete shambles.
The bathroom was worse. This was the job N had offered to do. So I thought to myself "surely, even though the kitchen looked like hell, N would have done a better job on the bathroom". Yup, my self was dead wrong. The bottom of the tub had been scrubbed and... yep, once again, that was it. In her defense, the bottom of the tub was VERY CLEAN. Of course, the fact that the sides of the tub and the walls were still cakes with mineral deposits and soap scum put a damper on that. The trashcan that was still full to the point that trash was piling up around the trashcan, the dirty towels, the uneaten cake on the counter (which had been involved in a foodfight that ended in the bathroom, not eaten there), and the assortment of STUFF lying around was just too much.
I snapped a little inside. I'll admit this. There was a little bit of cursing, several uncomfortable silences, a few curt commands involving laundry in the dryer, and a linen closet door that got slammed. But now the kitchen is very clean, and the bathroom is significantly cleaner.
So I guess the point of the story is -- don't
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