The Crap We Put Up With

Every day, I come home and sit at my computer desk. On my desk are two toys. One is a 1/24 scale model of a 1957 Chevy Corvette, the first model I ever completed. I have no idea why I keep it, or the plastic James Hetfield figure on my desk, but I cannot bring myself to throw them away. Why do I keep these things? They have no true value, nor do they have any (that I am aware of) true sentimental value. I didn't win my father's love for the first time by assembling a model car, nor did I ever see Metallica in concert. I like they way they look, but they look out of place on my desk. As I look around my house, I see many more objects that don't mean anything. The baseball signed in faded ink by the 1994 Houston Astros that I signed my Dad up for at a silent auction. A cedar case with over a thousand stamps that were given to me by my uncle who got tired of trying to sort them.

Why do we keep things like this? Is it some forced attachment to the past that we feel we must endure in our daily lives? It's not just limited to physical items. We all keep almost every digital photograph we've taken. And because there's no processing or film fee, we take more. When I shoot photos, I take three or four of every shot. I keep every one, even if it's extremely blurry, or as I call them, "artistic."

Decide for yourself why you keep these things, but I keep them to know where I came from. They're proof of improvements I've made, and show that I can do better next time, knowing what I do now.

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Moving today

Taking a drive

There are many times when I just sit around the house, clicking through flash games, staring at the television, or idly refreshing my Twitter page to see if anyone has posted something worth reading.

These lazy weekends are fun, of course. I don't mind being away from the stress of work. Sometimes, however, having nothing to do is more stressful than having a full inbox at three in the afternoon. This is why I am thankful for a gift my father gave me: The Appreciation of an afternoon drive.

I pull up Google Maps, and look out past the city limits. Then I pick a town out in the mountains and look up their chamber of commerce for things to do in the area. I grab my camera, some snacks and the GPS and hop in my Jeep.

The freedom of going out somewhere you've not been does not require a passport or Expedia reservations. Many times I've traveled only a few miles past the furthest I've been, and in only once instance has the road not been paved. There's nowhere to be, specifically, and usually the small restaurant on the corner is more entertaining than anything on the map. Driving in the countryside slows things down a lot. With no deadline, you don't need to speed, and it's okay to pull over and take pictures. Even if it's just your cell phone camera, it's something to remember. If you plan everything right, you'll be home in time to cook a real dinner and have a cold beer before bed.