Which Way Am I Headed?

"Are you going to Heaven or Hell?"

Call 773-_ _ _ - _ _ _ _ ."

That's what the back of the van said, in the spot where it usually reads "How's my driving?" The side of the van listed the kinds of work offered—something related to lawn care. I didn't pay much attention because I was looking to see if the Heaven/Hell number was the same as the company's number. It wasn't.

I wondered who answered the phone and how long it would take to hear a forecast of my future.

It reminds me of the summer when I was about 12 and acquiesced to spending the day with a girl I hardly knew.

"She wants you to go to camp with her, that's all. It'll be fun!" assured my mother.

Since mothers never lie, off to camp I went. But as soon as I got there, I knew it wasn't the camp I'd expected. It was Bible camp.

By the age of 12, I already had serious doubts about my religion; other religions, too, for that matter. I wanted PROOF about Noah's ark, Jesus's lineage, and Adam's rib.

So when the preacher looked out over the chapel filled with children and asked, "Who would like to meet Jesus?" I raised my hand high. Who wouldn't want to meet Jesus?

Apparently, every other kid but me. I was ushered away from everyone's view out into a dark hallway and put in the care of the church janitor. While "camp" continued in the chapel, the janitor and I continued standing where we'd been placed in the dark hallway.

For a moment, I thought it was a test of my biases, a test I could ace. It didn't surprise me that the Lord of Hosts would surface in the 20th century as a janitor.

It did surprise me, however, to discover that this janitor not only wasn't Jesus, but didn't even know Jesus. Hadn't even MET him.

I'd been boondoggled.

Fastforward into the 21st century, where I'm not so quick to take the bait. Will I be going to Heaven or Hell?

Only the janitor knows for sure.

Confessions of a Beta Blogger, Part 1

One troubling aspect of being unemployed is doubt. 

You begin to question not only your accomplishments of the past, but also your potential for the future. Past successes seem like illusions, future successes are unimaginable, and there you are in between.

It's hard to live in the moment when the moment is exactly where you don't want to be.

I have a friend whose antidote to this—her punishment, really—is to apply for yet another job, any job. It helps her push past the doubt and reground herself. I admire her for this. It's brilliant, really. I just haven't been able to do it.

I had an attack of doubt yesterday about maintaining Lull. The first wave hit as I was reading a former colleague's blog. His writing is precise, witty, and energetic. He's a writer by trade and by passion. Also by biology: Both his parents were writers. I started comparing our writing styles and soon all the joy I'd felt about creating Lull had disappeared.

Then the second wave of doubt hit. On Penelope Trunk's Brazen Careerist blog, she offers advice for first-time bloggers. Apparently, I've already made two grave errors with my blog: 1) Not covering ground that's within my expertise, and 2) Writing under a pseudonym. This made me feel like the kid in the corner donning a dunce cap.

Trunk's reasoning for her advice is sound. And for the record, I'd already considered the same points long before I started Lull. Yet I chose a different path. Why?

(Read the answer in "Confessions of a Beta Blogger, Part 2.")