Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Quote of the Week

"The question isn't are you gonna die, you're gonna die;
Will you be done living when you do?"

-Justin McRoberts, "Done Living", from the Deconstruction

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

A Lot Like Parenting

I was looking for something to snack on this afternoon when Lex came up behind me in the pantry. She was holding a frozen burrito.

"Can I have this?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied (as I opened a Hershey's 100 Calorie, guilt free, chocolate-covered pretzel bar; they're only 100 calories because the bars are microscopic).

I walked back toward my computer to get back to work.

"Um...," she said, unsure, "are you going to make it for me?"

"You can't make it?"

She got that look in her eyes-the one that the sixteen year-old boy gets when Dad hands him the keys for the very first time.

"Yes! I can!" she said. "Can I?"

"Yep. Have at it," I told her.

"K. What does this say?" she asked, pointing at a section of the microwave instructions.

And I realized that in order to be a truly effective parent, you've got to be an effective leader. Because parenting is really about leading your child into their full potential; it's about developing them.

We have a tendency at times to retard our children's developmental potential by carrying them much further than they need to be carried. A child will never learn to walk until they're put down, and given the opportunity to fall. We recognize that, and so we put them down as early as we can, and squat and clap and make goo-goo noises and shake the rattle, trying to entice the poor kid to take that half-step out of Dad's arms, and to cross that massive divide into Mom's outstretched hands. We force ourselves to put them at some risk of harm, because we recognize that protecting them to that degree has a long-term damaging effect.

And we let them, at six-years old, open the burrito, and climb up on the counter and operate the microwave, and even blow up the burrito all over the inside of the microwave; because at some point they're going to have to. And I can do it for them until they're 22, or I can guide them into it now (with an ever-watchful eye, ensuring they don't stick the fork in the microwave, and explaining why metal should NEVER, EVER go in there), and they can do it for themselves from here on out.

That's what parenting is about, isn't it?

How old is old enough to cook your own burrito? I don't have any idea; I don't think that there's a right or wrong answer. But I do know this: that the good parent, the EFFECTIVE parent, is always looking for signs that their child is ready to embark. And they're willing to let them fly, even if it seems a little "early", and even though there's a chance of falling out of the sky.

Because we--parents--are there to catch them if that happens. As a parent, it's a choice we have to make: do I commit to carrying my child until they're either so weak they'll never walk on their own, or they're so frustrated at not being able to walk that they shun me? Or do I allow them to jump out a little earlier than I feel comfortable with, always there to catch them if they fall?

The love that you see in their eyes the instant after you catch them on those occasional falls brings understanding, and growth. And trust. Which carrying will never bring.

Nor will carrying bring growth.

And that's the job of the leader, isn't it? To lead others into a dimension, a reality, that was previously beyond them? Not to carry them. To lead. To allow them to walk, even if the terrain is unfamiliar, and seemingly dangerous. To allow them to walk, and to do your best to catch them if they fall, or at the very least to help them up and brush them off.

I, as a parent, am trying to teach Alexis and Gentry to fly. My job is not finished until I no longer have to fly them about, but they're able to take flight on their own and soar. And I have only truly excelled at my job if they're able to soar higher and farther than I've ever even imagined.

I can only do that by allowing them to test their wings.

Such is the job of the leader.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Almost Here

Yep! Redefine, the music conference, is this weekend!

If you live in California, and you're involved in any facet of music ministry, you need to make it a point to be there! It's shaping up to be an incredible experience. We have confirmed attendees from all over California (Southern California, the Central Coast, San Jose), and even from Arizona.

You can register online at http://www.redefinemymusic.org/. If you have questions, email me, or Redefine, at redefinemymusic@live.com.

Hope to see you there!

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Thursday, April 17, 2008

The Pencil's Moving

Yes, I've actually written something meaningful.

And I haven't thrown it away. Because it's OK writing, I think. So I'll keep it, and see where it goes.

This is the first time I've ever started on anything substantive, and have actually kept it. The truth is, I'm afraid. I'm not sure what of. Oh, who am I fooling? Of course I know: I'm scared to death of finishing, and then looking back over the work and finding that it's terrible.

Perhaps I don't have it in me; I wouldn't be surprised. But I've learned something: the pain of not knowing is just as bad as (or worse than) the pain of the worst possible outcome. Because in not knowing, you're accepting that worst possible outcome as part of your future reality, but without having even fought the fight.

I refuse to accept failure without having tried. So, I try.

And, perhaps, in committing to the effort, I'll pour as much of me as I must to ensure it's a success.

At the wall in every facility owned by the company I work for is a plaque. On that plaque is the following quote:

Until one is committed there is the chance to draw back; always ineffectiveness.

Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too.

All sorts of things occur to help one that would not otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man would have dreamed would come his way.

I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets:"Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it! Boldness has genius, magic, and power in it."

W. H. Murray
and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

So I begin. And I commit myself, wholly and irrevocably, to this dream. And trust that the rest of Murray's predictions prove true.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Bubble Gum Weight Loss is Bunk

I feel as though the rug has been ripped out from under me; as though all that I believe, the very foundation of my moral being has been shaken to it's core. I'm unseated, unsettled and undone.

Dad came over the other evening. He was holding an open magazine when he walked in. He handed it to me with no explanation, and stood staring expectantly at me. I looked down.

It was folded open to a full-page picture of a girl blowing a bubble-gum bubble. It said "your life" at the bottom, and at the top were the words that, perhaps, will ever change my life. It said this:

Q: How can I indulge my sweet tooth without going overboard?
A: Chew a piece of gum. A recent study found that people who chewed gum before a sweet snack ate 50 fewer calories.

Woe is me.

With those few innocuous words, a cornerstone of MyndFood has been brutally yanked away, and this, my humble blog, is left on shaky ground. For it would seem that the March issue of "Weight Watchers" magazine has shown that bubble gum IS worthwhile.

Why is Dad reading Weight Watchers magazine?

Ah! But wait! This doesn't disprove my premise. In fact, it's unrelated. Bubble gum, I contend, is psychologically damaging in that it requires the chewer to chew, to no avail. The act of chewing was intended, by God, to break down food. Gum will not--can not--be broken down by chewing it, so in attempting to do so we set ourselves up for failure. Over time, with any substantive amount of gum-chewing, we condition our minds to ACCEPT failure, we resign ourselves, subconsciously, to defeat. And ultimately we end up with a society filled with perpetual losers, misfits and miscreants, delinquents and even criminals.

All because they've chewed gum.

On the upside, if they happened to have chewed it just prior to desert, they're probably slimmer than they might have been (we know that thanks to Weight Watchers magazine's research). The net result is SLIMMER delinquents, but delinquents nonetheless.

Weight Watchers has no idea what they're doing.

Monday, April 14, 2008


Does income matter?

Scratch that; of course it matters. The question should be, "how much does income matter".

MSN careers published Parade Magazine's "What People Earn-2008" today. The story was shocking.

Glen Heroy, 45, a hospital clown, earned $28,000 last year; Dean McIlvaine, 50, a farmer, earned $30,000. Brian Leachman, 34, a car sales manager, made $205,000, and Jeannete Lee, 36, a billiards player, earned $650,000. Trouble, 8, a Leona Helmsley's dog, earned a sweet $12 million. Timothy Janus, 31, a competitive eater (one of my favorites) earned $25,000 (he did say, though, that while his job was not a high paying job, it's VERY filling). And Brian Prigel, 48, the mayor of Bingen, Washington, made a paltry $3,600.

And then there's Miley Cyrus, 15, singer/actress (of Hannah Montana fame), who made an astonishing $18.2 million. Mary-Kate Olsen, 21, actress (and twin) made $17 million. Jeff Foxworthy, 49, comedian, made $10 million, and John Paulson, 52, a hedge-fund manager made a heart-stopping $3.5 billion (yeah, with a "B").

I read this and my initial reaction was plain old indignation. How DARE Eli Manning (the 27 year old quarterback for the New York Giants) make $11.5 million, while I, an immensely valuable corporate flunky slave away here for a respectable sum of money (but far closer to Mayor Prigel's salary than Mr. Manning's). I'm a businessperson (and a great writer to boot); I MUST be providing more value than some guy who tosses around a leather ball for a few hours 13 times a year.

And for goodness' sake: Miley Cyrus? She's a talented girl, don't get me wrong, but if THAT voice (at 15) is worth $18 million plus, mine MUST be worth at least $8 mil or so, don't you think?

So what's the deal? Am I just getting ripped off?

You feel it too, don't you? Don't feel bad; it's a natural reaction. We, who labor day after day in the trenches for what seems, comparatively, to be a paltry sum, feel shafted when we hear about Jeff Foxworthy earning more money than he knows what to do with for telling a few redneck jokes.

Is Miley Cyrus that amazing a talent? Are Foxworthy's jokes really THAT funny? Does a dog EVEN CARE that he makes oodles of cash?

Probably not. But then Mr. Paulson (the hedge-fund manager) must REALLY be providing some unique value; I know what he's doing there in NY is FAR beyond me. So maybe he does deserve that heinous amount of money.

See there? I did it. I told myself I wouldn't. I started talking about what he "deserves" vs. what I "deserve". "Deserve" really has nothing to do with it, does it? The simple fact is, someone feels they're that valuable, so they pay them.

The larger question, in my mind, is, assuming I WISH to earn more, what do I need to do in order to "deserve" it? One of two things, in my opinion.

Option 1: Do something amazing--and do it way better than anyone else. Make it something that very few people can do (kinda like sticking 18 quarters in your nose, come to think of it). The truth of the matter is, people (mostly middle-aged, beer-bellied men) love to watch men throw a football around. And if the guy they're watching do it can do it particularly well, they're willing to pay a goodly sum of cash to watch. Mr. Manning, since he's the guy who does it well, gets a good chunk of that.

The same goes for Mr. Paulson (that hedge-fund guy). I imagine that he hedges funds better than virtually anyone on the planet (and there are very few fund hedgers to begin with, so he's one of an elite few).

The point is, provide EXCLUSIVE value, and you'll be well-compensated for it.

That, though, doesn't explain Mr. Foxworthy (my friend Kevin is FAR funnier than Mr. Foxworthy...sometimes). Which brings us to...

Option 2: Market yourself religiously. Make people want to pay you for whatever it is you do. It's OK if you're not the greatest; make people FEEL like you are. Do you really think the anorexic Olsen twins are really that amazing as actresses (come to think of it, they don't act anymore, do they)? No. The truth is, they had a parent (or two) who marketed the poor girls shamelessly. They were adorable, but not THAT adorable (and now they're just downright creepy).

THIS is why I push you so hard to tell others about MyndFood. I give cards out constantly. I tell folks about the blog everywhere I go. I realize that I'm likely not the greatest, most enthralling writer to ever come down the pike. But if I can make people FEEL like it, that's all it takes to get them to visit. I, obviously, need to be good enough to keep them engaged, but I don't have to be the best around. I just have to reach more people than the best around.

This all begs the question, though: how much does the income really matter? Do I really NEED $18 million per year? No; I don't. Nor does anyone. But it does mean something, I think. Not because I want to be wealthy; comfort is good, wealth is optional. But income is, in a sense, a score. It tells you how much value you're providing. And it means something.

But then, it shouldn't mean everything. Edward Perry, 29, the peace corps volunteer who makes $2,900 per year must be doing it for some deeper reason than the "score". The truth is, the healthiest among us, regardless their income, receive some measure of satisfaction from their jobs. Dottie Martin said it well in the article. The best jobs, she says, provide emotional as well as financial rewards.

Which leads me to believe there's an opposite extreme. Mr. Perry must reap an enormous emotional reward from volunteering in the peace corps, but he receives virtually no financial reward. I wonder how much emotional value Mr. Paulson (the fund hedger) receives in conjunction with his $3.5 billion. Or, more importantly, how much financial reward must a person receive in order to trade any prospect of emotional reward?

The ideal situation, I think, is a career that provides you a high level of emotional satisfaction, coupled with a financial "score" that says you're providing high value. It's why I aspire to writing: there's a potential for a decent (if not very good) income there, and the act of writing is one of the most rewarding things I've ever done.

The question remains, though: how much emotional satisfaction would you trade away for a higher income? What would it take in order for you to embark on an emotionally empty career?

I'd like to ask someone who did whether or not it was worth it. My gut says probably not.

Sunday, April 13, 2008


Billboards speak to me.

Not audibly, of course, but they do speak to me. They speak to you too. When you're driving pell-mell down the freeway and that big black billboard with the huge In-N-Out Double-Double on it flashes into your peripheral vision, something happens. Your salivary glands start working overtime, your stomach suddenly wakes up and starts doing those little backflips that it does when you need to feed it, and you start looking for the familiar yellow arrow.

I was driving down the highway one day last week (nearly falling asleep; I'm not a good morning driver), and a billboard jumped out at me and woke me up. I don't recall the actual verbiage, but it had to do with a group of bond measures that voters here in our great state of California passed some time back. The measures (called "The Ones"-1A, 1B, 1C, 1D and 1E) were collectively referred to as the "Rebuild California" plan. They allocated enormous amounts of money to traffic, transportation (I'm not sure what the difference is), housing, schools and flood prevention.

I voted against them all. Apparently I'm among the intelligent minority in our great state, as proven by this pointless billboard.

The board touted the efforts of Governor Schwarzenegger some other politician proponents of the measure. It said something like "In the future, this highway will be wider thanks to the efforts of Gov. Schwarzenegger and these other politicians." The unwritten subtext was: "We're telling you this because you won't see the actual widening of the road for years, and you certainly won't see any of the work started before November, which is when all these guys are up for re-election, so make sure you vote for them as a big thank you. And, Oh-by the way: we took a few bucks off the top of that big pool of cash that you voted for in order to pay for this billboard."

I've always been a results oriented guy. I've always been of the opinion that we should cast our votes based on results. Now though it seems that the politicians believe that we're willing to be duped into casting a vote based simply on a vague (and perhaps empty) promise. Is that really the state of the voting public?

So I'm angry. Angry at the politicians for using a seemingly important issue to their personal advantage. Angry at the voting public for eating it up. And angry at myself for sitting idly by and allowing it all to happen.

But then, what am I to do? One lowly speck in this huge pot of thriving humanity; can I make a difference? Perhaps. But then how?

Or am I seeing ghosts here? Is this not an issue? Would it bother you, dear readers, to see that billboard? To see that, to our elected officials, the most important thing is gaining the prestige and political goodwill associated with backing some beneficial initiative? To realize that when it's all said and done, the initiative is no more than a poor pawn used as leverage in this political game.

It's part of why I'm so fed up with politics. Politicians are so self-serving--understandable to a point, but often so overwhelming that it's not right. But then, I think I might be cynical.

So where are we now? Are you as incensed as I am about this? Does this billboard build up your great confidence in politics and politicians? Are have we moved off track as far as I fear we have?

Saturday, April 12, 2008


I've passed the 10,000 mark.

10,000 MyndFood visitors in the last 8 1/2 months. Not exceptional, I guess, but it's a significant milestone.

And the readership is steadily climbing. Which is good. But not good enough.

But then that's probably my fault. I've noticed that when I'm consistent in posting, you're consistent in reading. If I post regularly, you stop by in droves. When I slack off, you lose interest. Which is probably logical, but a little unfair, if you ask me. After all, I've got legitimate excuses (like, for example, the fact that I've driven five hours every day for the past three days, and sat through a conference in the 'tween hours). But you don't care about excuses; you want nourishment.

And that's good. I want hungry folks showing up here on a regular basis for their daily ration of this nutrient rich brain fodder. But if I don't give you something to eat, you're going to go elsewhere.

So, I'll do my part to keep to dishes coming. You, in turn, do your part in telling others about MyndFood.

Let's make it the most frequented source of mental fare on the Net!

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

A Son is Given

To two who deserve it more than anyone I know.
Congratulations, Rev. & Mrs. O'Gillery (better known as Uncle Rick and Aunt Gina) on the birth of Caden Myrick Teel!

He was born today, April 9, sometime in the morning (I think). He weighed a lot, and was pretty big (if you wanna know the details, you're gonna have to ask one of the women; they keep track of those things).

Point is, he was born healthy and strong, and will likely prove to be a wonderfully smart, handsome and well-behaved son (much like me).

It would only be fitting though, I think, if he is the type of curious boy who switches the gas tank on the truck to the empty tank (without telling Rick) mid-trip. Or the type who wears green rubber gloves and a gas mask while driving down the road, much to Rick's embarassment. Or maybe even the type who prefers not to eat those southern "just-dip-your-fork-in-the-jelly-a-few-germs-never-hurt-anyone" breakfasts.

It'd be fitting, wouldn't it Rick?
Congratulations guys! We love you, and look forward to meeting young Caden. We have much to tell him!

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

What Love Is

I've come to the realization that true love is most often manifested as a choice to trust. The deepest love is that love that tears down all the emotional walls and opens oneself up to hurt by saying, "I invest myself completely in you, even if it's dangerous."

And true love is only proven over time. Any relationship more than a few months old (whether familial, marriage or friendship) has a few scars. You can't be in any meaningful relationship with another human being for any length of time without them hurting you. And as the relationship ages, the number of wounds inflicted by the other party grows (as is natural).

Have you ever had a friend who routinely hurt you? Over time, the natural inclination is to ask yourself why it is you remain in that relationship. The simple truth is love. You do your best to heal the wound together, then you place that trust back squarely in their hands, and you walk on together.

The depth of your love, paradoxically, is proven, in part, by your willingness to, when injured, push past the pain, join hands with the one who has injured you, and through your actions, demonstrate your undying trust in them.

It's like God's love for us. There's something about God's love that sees past our constant failures. There's a song that says it well, I think:

A thousand times I've failed
Still your mercy remains
And should I stumble again
I'm caught in your grace.
Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending
Your glory goes beyond all fame.

-From the Inside Out, Hillsong United

Monday, April 7, 2008

Smarter Than I

They're far smarter than I, Lex and Gentry are.

I kept them Saturday morning while Shawna went for breakfast with some women from church. I told them I'd take them out, but that they had to clean their rooms first. Gentry made quick time of his; Lex, on the other hand, couldn't focus long enough to get anything accomplished.

When Gentry had finished cleaning, he grabbed a toy car that someone had given him, and began trying to remove it from the plastic packaging. He was having no luck (and was beginning to get a little frustrated). He finally asked his sister for help.

"You clean my room," she said, "and I'll get your toy out."

"OK," he said.

"Go get me the scissors."

He ran and got the scissors, and then happily set to work cleaning her room for her.

She observed for just a moment, then turned and brought me the package and scissors to open.

"Daddy, can you open this for Bubba?" she asked.

I did. She ran back into her room, tossed the open car and the scissors down at Gentry's feet, and sat down to do something enjoyable as her brother continued to clean her room.

There, my friends, is a future entrepreneur. She's a natural-hands down.

A bit later, we met Shawna in town. She took Lex, and Bub's rode with me as we drove across town to a store she wanted to visit.

He was sitting in the back seat in his car seat eating a lollipop. I was listening to the radio.

"Daddy?" he yelled.

I turned down the radio, "What's up Bub," I asked.

He pulled the lollipop from his mouth. "What does wallpapuh taste like?" he asked.

I didn't know what to say. "What?" I asked.

"What does wallpapuh taste like?" he repeated.

"Um...I have no idea, Bubs. Why do you ask?"

"'Cuz this suckuh tastes like wallpapuh. Letsis said."

"Oh. How does SHE know what wallpaper tastes like?" I asked.

He stared at me for a second. "'Cuz she ated one of these suckah's," he said.

"And she said it tastes like wallpaper."

"Yes," matter-of-factly.

"But how does she know what the wallpaper tastes like?"

"Because she ated one of these suckahs, and THEY taste like wallpapuh!" he said, a little exasperated.

"OK, Bubs; I understand. But how does she know what wallpaper tastes like in the first place in order to compare them?" I asked, trying patiently to get him to understand.


I wasn't quite sure what to say. In fact, I was a little confused.

"Bubs, unless the sucker is a 'Wallpaper' flavored sucker, there's no way for her to know it TASTES like wallpaper unless she's EATEN wallpaper; I don't think she has, because we don't HAVE any wallpaper. So HOW DOES SHE KNOW WHAT WALLPAPER TASTES LIKE?"

He paused for a moment. I thought maybe I'd finally got through to him.

Then he shook his head as though I were hopeless.

"Dad: Letsis is a smaht guhl. She KNOWS what tastes like wallpapuh."

And with that, the conversation was done.

I'm ashamed to say that I think he inherited the talent for "circular arguing" from his father. I've met my match.

Friday, April 4, 2008

Just Break Something

On the way home from work yesterday I heard a commercial (I can't remember what for); the lady made a comment that stuck with me. She said that their goal is to, "fix what's broken without breaking what's working."

The quote sets the stage for the perfect answer to John's question in a comment a few days ago. He asked why I don't write about politics. The simple truth is that my enthusiasm for anything political long ago waned, and turned into open disdain.

You see, in my experience, the majority of public office holders ASPIRE to that position. Few of them see a need in society and thus run for public office in an attempt to fix that problem or meet that need. No; for the most part, they simply want the position and the power.

And so, in order to win an election, they invent a need. They break something so that they can then promise (assuming the electorate sees fit to elect them to the office) to have the solution. And so our government goes through this hugely damaging cycle. There's an election, then a few months of breath-catching peace, then the ramp up of re-election campaign; then potential opponents begin to invent things that are broken and promise to fix it if they are elected; the voting population begins to believe that the breaks that were alluded to are REAL, and begins calling for change; the opponent is elected; he makes a few minor adjustments to the current environment, then tells everyone he can how much he's accomplished. And the cycle starts itself again.

Would a candidate have any hope of election if he campaigned on a policy of "stay the course"? That is, what chance would a candidate have if he were to step to the podium and say, "Um...I think everything is fine. I can't think of anything that needs fixing, so if I'm elected, I think we'll leave it as-is"?

Politics is a fine art. First, convince people that something's broken. Next, convince them that you're the ONLY one who can fix it. Then, get elected. Make incremental changes (since we ALL know that MAJOR change upsets too many people to be really practical) in order to appease the radical fringes of your party. Finally, towards the end of your term, tout regularly and loudly, your "track-record" of change (while frantically working to debunk your challenger's claims that there's something broken in the current administration).

And then, when term limits say you're done, sign a ghost-written book deal, and invest the big paycheck while Fortune 500 companies pay you multiple thousands of dollars to come speak to their executives or at corporate events.

It's a game. We, the voting public, are the unfortunate pawns who gets shoved around the board at the whim of any power-hungry maniac who can come up with $300 and a handful of people to sign a petition.

No. I don't like politics. I don't think I want to write about it.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008



She's blind. She carries a sword and a balance. The sword to impart swift punishment for wrongs that have been committed, and the balance to weigh out recompense to right those wrongs.

What, then, would you think our lady Justice might say an eleven year old girl's physical integrity is worth? What might Justice say the punishment should be for the rape of a young girl? How much does that impartial lady take in order to balance that scale, to right that wrong?

A year. No, LESS than a year.

The jury reached a verdict today in the local trial of Eddie Scott, a former college football player accused of, and on trial for, the rape of an eleven year old runaway girl in July of 2006. The girl is said to have been raped by up to eight men that day, although only Eddie and one other, Mackey Davis, were charged. Davis plead to a lesser charge and a reduced sentence (less than one year in jail) in return for his testimony against Scott. After a grueling trial though, the jury ruled that the lack of physical evidence (there was no DNA evidence linking Scott to the girl, nor any other witness testimony placing Scott with the runaway), combined with the relatively weak testimony of Davis weren't sufficient to prove Scott's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

There was no discussion as to why none of the other six men in the apartment that day were charged--either with rape, or as accessories.

It's a fishy story: eight men in an apartment, and a girl is raped (by perhaps two men, but by as many as eight). One participant is charged, and testifies against another (who gets off) in exchange for a slap on the hand. None of the others are implicated (despite the fact that Scott admits that he saw the girl being taken to a back room by two of the men, and that he later saw the girl performing illicit acts with one of the men).

And after all is said and done, Justice says that the rape of an eleven year old girl is worth less than a year in jail.

And with that, the scales of justice are once again in balance.

And life continues, with all once again right in the world.

Is that Justice? Have the scales really been balanced, or have we deluded ourselves into believing so? Shouldn't a violated eleven year old at least have the consolation of feeling as though a jury of her peers deemed her violated body more valuable than a measly year?

Justice is not meant to right wrongs, I think; otherwise, this could not have happened. Justice is meant to make the masses feel better about society as a whole.

And THAT--THAT'S a travesty.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

It's That Day Again, Silly Readers!

I only wish this day came around more often.

I imagine it's obvious by now, but for those who didn't catch it, April Fools, folks.

I'm not shutting down MyndFood; that would be a travesty! You love it (except for that anonymous reader); I love it; I think I do a decent job of it; why quit? No, this is too good a gig to shut down. I'll stick with it.

But, do me a favor: each of you go tell someone about MyndFood. Get someone else to start reading! If you'd like, send me an email with your mailing address, and I'll mail you MyndFood cards!

I'm here for the long haul and, as they say, the more the merrier!

As always, thanks for reading!

An Open Letter

Dear Readers:

I regret to say that I have decided, due to poor reader response, to quit writing MyndFood altogether.

I feel as though I have very few readers, and those I do have don't truly appreciate my work, so I have decided to take some time away from writing, and focus on other endeavors.

I have truly loved doing this, and regret that it's come to this.

I hope to someday again pursue a career in writing.

Thank you all who've stuck around...

With deepest regrets,