Politics and Religion are Nothing...

One of the most poignant, and funny, moments from Friends was when the group was sitting around the coffee shop and the uncomfortable subject of money came up. The conflict was between Monica, Chandler, and Ross, who all had decent jobs that supplied adequate incomes and Joey, Phoebe, and Rachel who were still struggling financially. The latter group was becoming increasingly frustrated with the others not taking into consideration the cost of doing certain things together, like dining at upscale restaurants or going to Hootie and the Blowfish concerts. Someone (I believe it was Monica) implied that their friendship was based on more substantive things by saying "I guess I never really see money as an issue." To which Rachel replied, "That's because you have it."

For several years I've been very sensitive about the fact that the phrase "I'm broke" is extremely relative. For some of my friends, "I'm broke" means they are always just a couple of days away from their creditors reaching their dirty little hands into their paycheck. For others close to me it means they'll only be able to take one long-distance vacation this year. I'm at neither extreme, but come very close to being part of the group who feels the impending footsteps of the Vikings from those Capital One commercials.

Somewhere in the Friends conversation Chandler jumped up and physically squirmed at being placed in such an uncomfortable conversation. The humor was in the truth. Who of us has not felt a little icky when the subject of money comes up? I have, and I do. But it's something I need to get over, so this is me pulling the band-aid off in one quick swoop.

About a year ago one of my closest friends began encouraging me to "put myself out there" a little more with my writing and other gifts. As the year progressed the encouragement became less a suggestion and more a "push." Many of you who I know in person have also suggested I work hard at getting my stuff published. This is all still very strange to me, as I'm just one of the millions who began writing with the blogging revolution of the past five years. I'm not the only one named Time's Person of the Year.

Regardless of how weird it seems, it also feels good knowing that you actually enjoy what I have to say. I would have quit this and purchased an expensive leather journal from Barnes and Noble a long time ago if it weren't for all your support.

I spend a considerable amount of time with this blog. It's time I enjoy, but time is time.

This is where the ick factor gets kicked up another notch.)

So, in an effort to avoid getting a night job to generate a little extra income (it's something I've seriously considered,) I'm making an attempt to make writing my second job. (The next sentence will hopefully be the closest I ever come to being a televangelist.) And I'm going to give you the opportunity to support me in this endeavor. I've set up a PayPal account to make the option available for you to donate to the cause.

This is something I want you to do only if a.) you can afford it, and b.) you REALLY want to. I'm not going to, nor will I ever, require payment of anyone to read this blog. In fact, I'm still trying to figure out exactly how PayPal works and want to find a way to make any donations completely anonymous.

This will be the last time I ever write about this. The donation button, along with a link to this post, will appear at the left of the page.

Regardless of whether or not you decide to help me out financially, I want you to know again how much I really appreciate all of your encouragement. I want to continue writing about the people I love, my church, my places, and my God. I'll keep letting you know what I ate, what Jane did and how hot I believe Addison Montgomery is. But hopefully the extra intentionally I put on writing will produce something that is, well, consequential.

I feel like I should end this with a hug. Or at least a Thank You.

Thank You.


EDIT: For some reason the button in this text is not working, but the one on the left is.