You Don't Know Jack...

...but you will.

_______

Jack Andraka is a straight 35-year-old PhD in biology who has recently developed a way to find the early stages of pancreatic, lung, and ovarian cancers.

Highly respected in his field, Andraka wowed the minds of credible professionals in similar fields. From the birth of his idea--a dip stick in a water, anti-body/proteins solution that is inexpensive, simple, fast, and nearly 100% effective in detecting the early stages of the three previously named cancers--came droves of sponsorships from hospitals and medical professionals around the world. As well known and heralded as he has been in his field, it's no wonder he has been given so much money for continued research and development. He is published in textbooks around the world, and if his plans come to fruition, he will look to win the Nobel Prize in science by the time he is 40.

Like most similar scientists, he may only ever be known by colleagues, peers, and those that read his name in textbooks for the next several hundred years.

______

All of that sounds extraordinary, doesn't it? I think it does!

But here's the thing: Most of what I just told you was a lie.

Jack Andraka is not 35. He's 18. Even though his sexual orientation doesn't matter--because it never does--he's gay, too.

Jack Andraka was not heralded by anyone. In fact, his original ideas were rejected by exactly 199 cancer researching PhDs starting at the age of 13. Even his parents, who ended up funding most of his research by supplying centrifuges and a basement lab, didn't think his research would ultimately be worth it.

His parents, father a civil engineer and mother an anesthetist by trade, were wrong (to start). All of those scientists? They were also wrong. His brother, Luke--2 years his senior--was the sole person in their family to believe in Jack's ambition--and, surprise, he's also pretty smart in his own right. He became Jack's lab partner when things started to take off.

Eventually, Jack did hear back from one professor from John's Hopkins, who decided to have him brought in to explain his idea. Despite some rough patches and a load of criticism--all of which you can find on his wikipedia page*--he's now funded by National Geographics for all of his research.



I had the fantastic privilege of hearing Jack talk yesterday (Sunday) for the closing of this year's Montessori conference. Aside: It's worth noting that I am not a Montessori educator or a teacher. For reasons I will get to in a moment, my significant other, Katie, who is a Montessori teacher, thought it might be a good idea to snag an ID badge from a colleague whom was unable to make it for the day. For that day I was not Pat Monteith. I was Ken Martin, Dean of Students, Philadelphia Montessori. And, man, was I grossly underpaid. I digress...

The day before, when I first learned I would have this privilege, I talked to my father about whether this kid/man/genius/prodigy was more closely related to Einstein or the guy who accidentally created the potato chip. For once, we were not arguing, but simply discussing the odds of him actually being a genius. Since all I had to go off of was wikipedia--or at least that's all I cared to look up at the time--I figured we would leave it at "who knows?" before actually getting to hear him talk.

Spoiler alert: He's a genius.

Along with explaining his (short) life story accompanied with an explanation of what he did, and why it's receiving a lot of attention now, he fielded questions from the audience. There are two questions in particular that he fielded--along with some tearful "thank yous" from other audience members who lost relatives to pancreatic cancer--that I think are pretty important to mention.

1. "Despite all of the adversity and rejection, how did you continue? What made you keep going?"
Answer (paraphrased): Well, there's a funny thing about discovering new science-y things: You can't go by fact! You have to have your own set of creativity that thinks outside of the box in order to make the world a better place, and I believe that creativity is in all of us!

2. Are you in the process of creating new things?
Answer (paraphrased): Well, yes, I'm doing this one thing where...*mind blowing answer about things I only half understood*...Also, I'm in the process of creating nanobots that enter the blood stream and program cells to commit suicide. This way, we can get right to the cancer and kill the cancer from the inside-out.

Another question that deserves honorable mention was one that asked, "How long will it take for your device to enter the market?"
Answer (paraphrased): Well, it should take 5-10 years for more studies by the CDC and other governing bodies to approve of its usefulness. So we're hoping it takes closer to 5.
Rebuttal by asker: Is there any way for us to speed up the process? Fundraising, etc?
Answer (paraphrased): Unfortunately, as far as medical innovations go, it normally takes about 17 years for these kinds of things to go from development to the market, so we're already going at a little faster pace than it normally takes for these things.

In other words, there's nothing more we can do--it's a process.



So, why does Jack Andraka mean anything to me? Why was the first book signing/meet and greet I've ever done/been a part of with someone 5 years my junior? Well his story is a bit similar to mine, except when I got discouraged or had my ideas rejected, I stopped pursuing and went a separate direction.

No, it's not to toot my own horn. It's true. When I was 14, my grandfather died of Melanoma. He was like a second father to me, and I was devastated. Similarly, Jack's uncle died of Pancreatic cancer, thus starting the flow of his creative juices. (You can find out all about his life in his book called "Breakthrough," which is an autobiography of sorts up to this point in his life. I've only read a bit of it so far, but it's quite fascinating to me...) I was just entering my first year at LaSalle when he passed away, and I couldn't wait to start learning about biology, which I was able to do more in-depth my sophomore year. When learning about the cell cycle, something interesting came across my mind: What if we could manipulate cell growth to, at the very least, stop the growth of cancerous cells? For instance--and I'll try not to be too confusing, here, because I know how I felt when Jack spoke and needless to say my brain exploded: cells go through these reproductive stages. More specifically I payed close attention to G1 and G0. G1 is the stage in cellular reproduction where certain chemical reactions occur inside the cell, blah blah blah, and the cell reproduces and keeps doing so until it reaches a point, if ever, of G0. G0, which occurs in only a few specific cells in the human body, i.e. brain cells, pulmonary cells, and nerve cells, is when the certain other chemical reactions happen, blah blah blah, and the cell stops reproducing.

The idea I had only works for cancer where tumors develop. Therefore, sorry, Leukemia and a few other cancers where the invasiveness of a procedure is too risky and costly. My idea encompassed the use of nerve, pulmonary, or brain cells, perhaps through extraction of tissue from living or recently dead organisms, and surrounding the cancer cells with these cells. In other words, connecting cancer tissue to the tissue that is in G0. I thought, since we are organisms that have the ability to learn, that learning could also happen at the cellular level. Ultimately, I thought I could get cancer cells to learn to stop growing.

Long story short, I asked 3 different doctors. 2 basically told me it's not possible. I was younger when I surveyed these two doctors, so it discouraged me and I stopped trying. It was years later when I was well into the establishing points of my accounting career that I asked the 3rd who told me that what I thought of is currently being worked on. The specifics are different than how I thought of it, because when I was younger I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that the cancer cells are constantly mutating--which means it's hard for them to learn much of anything. The point is, whatever creativity you have with certain ideas, don't be afraid to talk about them! It just might save a ton of lives, or make peoples' lives infinitely easier!

Jack. Did not. Quit.

Before yesterday, I didn't know Jack, but I'll know Jack like I know Einstein for the rest of my life. My goal through this blog is that you do, too. He beat the naysayers, and pushed through an extreme amount of rejection and adversity. In the name of saving our relatives for generations to come, I hope that you remember him, because he deserves to be remembered.

You didn't know Jack, but now you do.**

- PatInTheHat

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Andraka

** Here's a link to his book! http://www.harpercollins.com/childrens/breakthrough

The Interview

I'm only 23 years of age, but I've had my fair share of interviews up to this point. At an interview you meet very different kinds of people. Some are shy; some are confident; some are far more serious than they should be; some are far too lackadaisical. It's no wonder interviews are generally hard for us to go through: We have no idea the kind of person(s) we're meeting.

Business experts have very specific guidelines as far as interviews go. Ask certain questions, give firm handshakes, act super confident, don't stutter or "umm/uhh" too much. Be clear. Be concise. Blah blah.

Well, there's one thing that I've learned that no "expert" has ever said to me. Not once. Not ever.

Adapt.

It only takes about 2-5 minutes to figure out a person's general personality/general seriousness level. No matter what their personality is, sometimes you have to be a chameleon a bit, because you can't really tell what personality they prefer to listen to/look at (ya know, body expressions) until you see the looks on their faces while you're talking. Generally, if the interviewers are smiling, are engaged into what you're saying, or ask you a lot (or really just a few) questions that aren't super business-generic, then you're probably doing a good job at your interview. 

You see, we don't want to come off as liars, right? We're not trying to be interview swindlers. What we're trying to do, as the interviewers, is find any semblance of control in the interview room.

Interviewers generally want all of the control. They want to give you hardball questions that really make you think. At the very least, they want to give you questions that make them feel smart and make you feel stupid. If this hasn't happened to you yet, it probably will at some point, so hang on to your hats (or hats, if you're a lady).

Panel interviews are the most fun. Unless you're interviewing for a sales position (by the way, don't), then a panel interview is basically one interviewee per a few interviewers. These are very challenging interviews for those who may not have had one before. It's understandable, too. No one in their right mind could ever be truly ready for these, because instead of one personality you, instead, need to adapt to multiple (kinda like you might have had to do with your ex. I digress...) For me, I learned that it's important to try to speak to all of them--meaning: use the best eye-contact deliverance that you can. Also, it's important to know who the head-hancho is. That is, the person who is ultimately going to be making the decision on your future in the end. This person you want to give specific attention to, and perhaps more of your eye-contact.

It's important to show your personality in these information exchanges, too. You're probably dressed in the best suit or dress that you own, so this might come across as a little difficult, because, ya know, that night-dress/party-rocker outfit you have at home is the only uniform your comfortable being personable in, but just do your best, yeah?

Lastly, the best thing you can do for yourself in an interview--no matter how bad you might want that job--is to be straight with them. When I say "adapt" I'm talking about your personality a bit so that you sort of make them like you, so that you're in more control of the interview. That's not what I'm talking about when I say "be straight." What I mean by that is: Tell them, honestly, what you want out of your life. You'd be surprised how well this comes across in interviews. Real, honest answers go a long way. I don't think interviewers nowadays want to hear those arbitrary, spoonfed responses that all those "experts" tell you to say.

For instance, I'm always asked in my interviews where I see myself in 5 years. I always respond with "I don't know..." but I explain that response as to why I'm not sure. Those interview "experts" tell you to never say that, and that you should always have a clear and definitive answer for this question.

I say that's bullshit, because that would mean you and every other interviewer is basically a robot that was programmed to say things that aren't even true. If you KNOW where you want to be in 5-10 years, I think you're kind of full of yourself. I mean, OK, if you really have an answer for that, fine. Go for it. All the power to you. Just make sure that your answer is real to you. Don't try and answer the question in a way that you think will make them happy. 9 times out of 10 when you're real with your interviewer(s) they are just as real with you. Maybe they even tell you that you might not fit into the position because of your higher aspirations or perhaps even lack of aspirations. Maybe they even offer you the job on the spot. Who knows? But either way is fine! There are companies/positions out there that are more like you and what you're looking for. It's definitely hard to be patient in this job market, but in order to be happy with the job you get, I really think you have to be patient.

It's sort of like dating, right? Heh heh, you wouldn't just leap into a relationship with someone you hardly know anything about just because their exterior is promising, right? Heh...

Yeah, don't answer that.

Oh, and good luck on those interviews.

- PatInTheHat

Alley Pat

Nobody likes you when you're 23.

I didn't learn that from a Blink-182 song. And spoiler alert: It has nothing to do with being childlike.

Twenty-three is a strange age. First off, it's the first year after the supposed 5 best years of our lives (17-22), which makes 23 a bit awkward. Secondly, it's 2 years after your 21st birthday and 2 years before your 25th. Twenty-three, for most people, is the age where your life either takes off in the career you worked your ass off for for the past 4 to 5 years, or the age where you realize all the hard work you did was basically useless rendering you dazed, confused, and broke. Twenty three, for what seems like most people, is also the age in your life where you snap out of "naivety," and enter straight into "cynical fuck." In that same time frame, you maybe even realize that "naivety" really had its perks, but it's too late to turn back now. It's that wake-up year where you finally graduate out of the Sophomore class--you just wish that happened 3 years prior. And the best part is that 23 is year where you bring everyone down with you into your hole of seemingly irreparable cynicism.

It's no wonder you're such a shit at 23, right?

About a month away from my 24th birthday, I can officially say it: I hate 23. So what's my main problem?

I love 23, too.

Without this year you, 23-year-old asshole, couldn't have figured out that there are better things out there that can reduce your cynicism to skepticism. Without this year, you douche-fuck, you never would have realized you were way too dumb to live life.

You never would have been able to exist without 23. Think about it.

Most importantly: You never would have realized who to kick the fuck out of your life.

When you meet someone else who is 23, and you realize they are being particularly douchy--you just understand. It's OK, compadre, I understand you. The rest of the world does not, but I do. And I'm perfectly OK with you.

When you meet someone who is over 23 and they are particularly douchy, do yourself a favor: Run. These motherfuckers never understood the power behind 23 like you and I did. Instead of sitting down and thinking about how fucking stupid their lives were at 23, they just decided to go right past 23 and stay at 23. They have 23-itis, and it's incurable. There is no modern medicine strong enough to cure this version of douchebagery. It's impossible.

The only way to cure the ailment of 23 is to get to 24. No, not in age. Age is just a social construct. To get past 23 you need to be 24 in mind, body, and soul. You need to realize that it's time to move on from 23 before it's too late; before it consumes you.

What was my moment, you ask? Well, actually, I had several, but there was one moment that stuck out to me the most. A lesson that I'll always remember for the rest of my life as far as anything and everything goes.

Life will knock the shit out of you at any given moment. It will suck. It will be awful. But like a scar on your skin, you'll be better than ever if you give yourself the time to realize that you can conquer life at will.

I am quite competitive. Those that know me well know that losing is not easy for me to do. (Side note: My ill-will towards losing competitive sport comes from a childhood that constantly reminded me that I would/could never be good enough for anything. At some point, those moments branded into my brain. So, if I ever lose at something because of you or other people, I'm not mad at you or anyone else for winning. In fact, I'm actually telling myself, in my head, that I suck and I'm terrible at everything--way to go--that sort of stuff. It's cognitive to it's core, but I'll conquer that one day, too. I digress...) One of the hobbies in competitive sport I have picked up over the past year is bowling. And yes, you might have guessed, I'm already quite competitive with this, too. So, knowing this, the best advice I could have received this past 24th year (yes, 24th, not 23rd) of my life was this: High five the gutterballs.

Simple, right? I wish. But it's one of the best lessons I could have received while my douche-ness was at a premium. A gutterball is the worst thing you can do in bowling--next to maybe getting goalposts on your strike throw--but the only reasons it troubles us is because of a few things: 1. Other people might think you suck at bowling 2. You might think you suck at bowling. 3. Your hand-eye coordination maybe sucks worse than you thought. If you roll a gutterball in life 1. Other people might think you suck at life. 2. You might think you suck at life. 3. You think that maybe your life sucks worse than you thought.

The thing is: All of that is bullshit. Yes, negative things happen, but quit your mopey bullshit and turn it into a positive! Look at that negative in the face and say, "Fuck you!" Make your life fun! Yes, maybe you do suck at bowling TODAY, but tomorrow you'll conquer the shit out of that bitch. Yes, maybe today was a really shitty day, but forget about it and get ready to kick tomorrow's ass!

So, what's the best way to get the fuck out of 23? That's right...

High five the gutterballs.

And maybe calm the hell down at your bowling league. Yeah.

- PatInTheHat

THIS POST HAS BOOBS!

I warned you. =D

-PatInTheHat

Driving Me Crazy

Frankly, I'm surprised I haven't commented on this, yet. I understand that my driving experience is limited to about 7 or so years, but I feel like I've driven enough to, ya know, know how to.

I will never, period, ever, period, understand the recklessness of most drivers. There are even insurance companies, who want your money more than anything, that have commercials talking about safe driving. "Make sure you're at least a 3-count behind the driver in front of you to ensure you have ample time to stop blah blah blah."

It's cute, right? I mean, it's basically completely wrong, but it means well.

Before I continue I should mention that I do NOT follow the book to the "T." For anyone out there, who has any idea who I am, I basically don't do a single thing to a "T."  "Common" is not my first, middle, or last name.*

For those that ever read a driver's manual, you might have come across a page talking about being one car length behind the car in front of you for every 10 miles/hr that you're going. Makes a lot of sense. I never got to this page in the manual--there might actually be, I'm not sure--because I was taught this by my father. Seeing as he's never been in a major car accident and, therefore, isn't dead, I figured there was a reason for his words.

A car length isn't all that much--roughly 15 ft. on average. Which means if you're going 70 miles/hr on a highway, you should be roughly 100 feet behind the car in front of you. Do I follow this rule perfectly all the time? No, I don't. However, I always maintain a semi-safe distance at minimum because here are the major things that could happen if I don't: I die, the person in front of me dies, everyone in the vicinity dies. If I don't die, and other people do die, guess where I am headed other than the hospital? That's right, prison. Accidents can happen to the smartest most careful people in the world, but what's the point of taking the risk?

This is an especially troubling question when it has to do with people getting to work in the morning. I drive down a major highway every morning for work. The speed limit--not that anyone follows those silly things. Ha, limits--is 65 MPH for the majority of the road. Side note: My general rule of thumb is limit plus 10 MPH as an acceptable range. 25 MPH zone? 35, why not? 40 mph? 50.** Generally these limits are put in place for people who are reckless with their driving. People that not only drive fast, but also those that zig zag through high-volume traffic thinking it'll make much of a difference. These thrill seekers generally don't give a shit about anyone around them, or they can handle the consequences of involuntary (arguable) vehicular manslaughter. With that said, and the reason why I have my very own "Plus 10" rule, is because you can go fast and be safe. If you're going 75 MPH in a 65 zone with no one around, the only person you could endanger is yourself by potentially losing control around a bend, but you're not endangering anyone else. These kinds of things are important to think about when you're flying down the road.

So, why am I being a "common" citizen by ranting about traffic?

Well, story time:

People driving in traffic bothers the hell out of everyone. The thing that I learned a year ago, after I got pulled over by a state trooper for speeding heading to work, was why the hell am I speeding to work? I was really speeding, too. I believe it was 78 on a 55. Now, after everything I just said, you're probably like, "Well what happened to YOUR rules, Pat?" Well, that's a really great question: First of all, no one was around me. No one behind me, no one in front of me, no one anywhere until I come around a corner to where a trooper is ready to trap my ass. He got me. He won. It's fine. I learned. Secondly, I used to drive even further to work than I do already. With my company's move in March they went from Limerick to Wayne, which is about a 15-20 minute difference making my trip 50-an hour as opposed to an hour to an hour and 15. The speeding happened less because of reckless driving and more because of reckless sleeping. I was tired behind the wheel and I wanted nothing more than to stop driving so I can take my focus off the road. This is also dangerous, but it's a different topic entirely. I digress...

Today was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. I was in the passing lane headed towards Wayne on a major highway going 70 MPH--so 5 MPH over the limit as is. I was roughly 70-80 feet behind the person in front of me. Out of nowhere, a pick-up truck came flying behind me to what looked to be about 10 feet, coulda been less. He decides to fly around me on my right to get in front of me, and then tail the next person as close as humanly possible. Just after that another pick-up truck came behind me even faster! This guy went around me and got just as close behind the first truck. Now, before you get pissed at me for not letting them go, they hardly gave me a chance. They were up my ass so quick, and decided to make the break for it around me that in both instances I didn't even have time to react to them being behind me. What these guys don't know--or cared to think about--was that if anything happens in front of the first car, the car I was originally behind, they'd all potentially just die. And THEN another car, which looked to be some kind of newer hatchback type of car, was maybe 20-30 feet behind me. By this point, we were all entering a high traffic zone, which means there were cars all around us, and it looked like we were all about to stop for volume. This guy blinks his lights at me to say, "Move over," when there is a car directly to my right. Like, what the fuck am I supposed to do? Osmos (no, it's not a verb) into a the person beside me just so you can stop in front of me in 5 seconds?

What. The. Fuck?

Like I said, everyone has their traffic stories, but I feel like there are some people who are really reckless drivers who probably act like the people that are in high-volume traffic are assholes for stopping them from zooming. It's like, "Hey, Buddy? Did you just blow in from Stupid Town?"

/rant

- PatInTheHat

* That would be this guy:
 http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/blog_post_349_width/2013/09/common_glasses_headshot_a_p.jpg

** I don't really feel like looking up people who agree with this standard, but I've seen blog posts and FB posts throughout the years where people make the argument that if people would just go 10 or less MPH over the speed limit--nothing more, but less is fine--the roads would likely be a lot safer. I tend to agree.

Save the Last Dance

Different cultures are cool. It's hard to measure how cool or not they are until they are experienced, but from my experience different cultures certainly can be.

First off, I'm Irish/Greek, and on the one side of my family--my mother's side--is VERY Greek. The capeesh-said-after-every-sentence kind of Greek. The go-to-the-Greek-Festival-in-downtown-Philly-every-year Greek. I actually just found out that my uncle John runs that event--just to give you an idea of how REALLY Greek they are. Needless to say, I got to learn a LOT about being Greek.

I didn't get to learn too much about Irish culture except in school and on the news. I hate most of the stereotypes associated with the Irish, even if they're mostly true. Ya know, they all know how to drink a lot; they all like Irish potatoes; and if anyone who says they're Irish doesn't like the color green, then they can't actually be Irish. All that nonsense. I hate Irish potatoes. So, suck it. Green's ok, though.

In high school, I learned a lot about Spanish culture, since I decided I wanted my second language to be, of course, Spanish. Every Spanish-speaking country has different customs. Not only that, but Spanish-Spanish and Mexican-Spanish is like the difference between a northern accent and a southern accent in America--hard to discern.

The most fascinating culture I've got to experience in a few different ways is Polish. I dated a girl for a couple years who was Polish, and her family was very Polish. They all practically spoke fluent Polish or had a very thick Polish accent. I learned some of the language--and by "some" I mean "very little"-- but I didn't learn too much about the culture.

That culture shock happened 2 Novembers ago. A friend of mine got together with me at a bar in the city for a few (too many) drinks. At around 11 or 12, he wanted to meet this girl he worked with at her birthday party. It sounded fun to me! What he didn't tell me was that this girl and her family were SUPER Polish. They held her birthday--which I believe was her 21st--at a Polish catering hall.

Alright, so the first thing that came to my mind when I got there was "I can say 'hello,' 'thank you,' and 'you're welcome.' Welp, hope I don't have to say more than that." Luckily, some were also fluent in English. Those people were who I needed to communicate with. I also discovered upon arrival that this shindig wasn't just for one birthday party. No. There were multiple parties going on at once. It was a menagerie of parties!

My friend decided to sit with the girl he came to see and talk at table. There was a part of the place that was basically just a bar, except no one was really attending the bar and the area was quite dim. That is where my friend and his hopes decided to sit, and after about 5 minutes of being really awkward--and since I had enough courage juice from the previous bar to last me another hour or two--I decided to venture into the main party hall. An MC was playing a mixture of modern American tunes mixed with strange Polish music. Just about everyone was dancing. And not the kind of dancing that Americans are used to. No one was grinding. No one was being belligerent. No one was too drunk to function--even myself, which was surprising at that point, to say the least. It was really hard for me to figure out what to do, because everything was just so proper. You don't just walk out on this dance floor and start dancing. No. You have to find a partner. I'm not joking.

My friend's companion saw that I was awkwardly staring out into the hall from the other room and  decided to come over to me.

"You should find someone to dance with!" She shouted over the music.
"What? No, I'm just checking things out. This is pretty fascinating!" I retorted.
"No, stop. Look! How about that girl over there? Want to dance with her?"
"Are you serious? Come on, this is silly. No one here even knows who I am. I'm like a party crasher."
"Yeah, I'm serious. Just go over there and ask her! I bet you she obliges."
"*Sigh* fine. Here goes nothin'"

It's a good thing I didn't bet her any money, or I would have lost. The girl I went up to immediately said yes. She grabbed my hands, and we started dancing in this strange circle. She bombarded me with all of these questions in a thick Polish accent of her own about if I was American, if I'm here for someone's party, if I had been drinking--I said no, I was lying, but she knew that. She laughed each answer I gave off. It was weird. Especially after just being in the bro-est bar in the city where life seldom makes a damn bit of sense, this was a complete 180.

We danced a couple more times before my friend and I had to leave. But the whole experience, despite being a bit inebriated, was pretty memorable. The dancing was definitely cool, but the most memorable aspect for me was that there were multiple parties going on, and everyone treated each other as family! For the common non-Polish cultured American, they likely would have thought they entered the Twilight Zone.

Families generally like to be kept to themselves in our culture; however, I feel like we could learn a lot from other cultures where more acceptance and understanding is more prevalent.

Hmm, just food for thought.

- PatInTheHat

Black Heads

I almost forgot. It would have been nice to forget just a little while longer, but social media tends to do that thing--the reminding thing--just in case forgetting happens.

Lent is upon us.

First, in case anyone for some reason has no idea what Lent is, let me explain.

Lent is a religious observance by many denominations of Christianity in which a person part of the faith is pushed to fast for 40 straight days to commemorate that time our Lord and savior Cthulu died on a Friday and rose from the dead on a (Easter) Sunday. He died a giant squid and came back as a human...or something like that--wait, that might be Budhism. Honestly, I forget anymore.

Oh, and the best way to start this process? Rub some burnt tree on your face. The only way.

When I was a wee lad, I was raised as a Catholic--a denomination of Christianity that partakes in this religious observance. So, every Lenten season my grade school would take us to the church around the corner on "Ash Wednesday" to put burnt tree on our face. Everyone basically hated it. The adults pretended not to hate it, and the kids didn't even understand why it was happening so, of course, they hated it, too. Oh, and never (purposely) wipe off the ashes at any point during the day. That's like 10 years of black cats or something. Was it black cats, or did I just make that up? Ah, whatever. It's religion, anyway: Where everything's made up, and the facts don't matter.

Hopefully, before you rub burnt stuff on your face, you also make sure to think of something to quit for those 40 days--as if eating small wasn't enough torture. I always played this game smart when I was younger. "I'll just quit something I don't really like or have that much of anyway: like chocolate!"
Telling someone you gave up chocolate for Lent was a big deal, though! They'd respond like, "Woah, you did not just...no way...HEY EVERYONE! PAT GAVE UP CHOCOLATE!" And then they'd pick me up in a sea of people--like after the game winning/World Series winning pitch by a starter--and praise me. Sometimes I would last the whole Lenten season without chocolate. Other times I'd forget Lent existed.

Later in my life I stopped celebrating (I'd argue it's far from a celebration, but I digress...). Soon, I'd practically forget that it was a thing. I mean, as with all religions, do I understand the meaning and the acknowledgment behind the observance for people who practice? Yes. However, I'm a skeptic.  There are some things--like starving yourselves and giving things up (most of which people hardly do anyway)--that don't sound like "God" to me. That's why everyone is doing these things, in case that wasn't clear.

This isn't my idea of God, anyway. Hmm, maybe I should write about "my idea of God."

I think I'll call it, "El Biblay: Partie Deux." And then in 2000 or so years people will get REALLY wealthy off of my "teachings." Not to mention tax breaks.

Yeah. *nods* Tax breaks.

- PatInTheMitre

Update: A co-worker of mine went to get their ashes at lunch time. They returned to tell me that a priest told her that he felt that if more people wore ashes all year round there would be less road rage.

Yeah.

Right.