Symbolism

Some people read this blog and get a picture of who I am. If you read it long enough, you'd pick up the fact that I have two kids, one on the way, an awesome wife, a sweet miniature van, work at a church with a goofy name, have a phobia of plastic forks and am one of the millions who love Bob Saget.

You'd know all of this...but you still might not know me. You'd have a mental picture of who I am. You could argue that you are familiar with my work. It's not the same. It's just a shadow of who I am...kind of like an emblem or a symbol.

There are certain emblems that make me sick - take the swastika...just makes me feel kind of gross just looking at it....but it's just a symbol. It's not a Nazi - it's their symbol.

Let's pick a slightly more upbeat image - my wedding ring. I'm wearing my third ring since I've been married. I never liked the gold one...just thought that's what you're supposed to wear - so then I bought a cheap silver one once Annie said she didn't mind. Then it started falling off whenever it got cold...so I bought the third one.

Every once in a while I'll take it off to spin on a table (that's what guys do) and occasionally someone will look at me in horror. "it's the symbol of my love for Annie, it's not my love for Annie" is my quick reply. It's just a symbol.

I'm not my picture. I'm not my blog. I'm not my Irish heritage. I'm not even my name. I'm a combination of all of those things and hundreds of thousands of others. You could say that I'm 32 flavors and then some...