A Call To Harms

As most of you have heard by now, the reprehensible Steven Hayes was sentenced to death for the murder of Dr. William Petit's wife and two daughters. If all he had done is murder them, that would have been bad enough. But it was so much more gruesome than that. Murder simply wasn't enough to fulfill the dark, filthy voids in this purely evil man. Dr. Petit's wife was raped, and strangled, his 11 year old daughter was sexually assaulted and burned to death, and his 17 year old daughter was burned to death also. All the while, Dr. Petit was bound, beaten nearly to death by a baseball bat, and forced to watch the monstrous crimes against his wife take place. By some miracle, this man was able to drag himself to safety.

Are you nauseated yet? Good. But you're going to be even more nauseated by what you read next.

As I have repeatedly come across this story on a variety of blogs, there has been one sickening trend throughout that absolutely could not go unnoticed. I have made the mistake of browsing the "Comments" section. I have made the mistake of believing that there is even the slightest semblance of humanity in internet anonymity.  People are actually out there trying to convince others that this Doctor and his family somehow deserved what happened to them. There have also been mutterings about Dr. Petit being a coward because he left the home to try to find help. Commenters are getting into lengthy discussions filled with justification of this heinous crime against these innocent people. We are living in a society where people will go out of their way to defend a murderer, and blame/attack the victim! Some of the gems I've seen recently are:

• "They were rich, and therefore deserve it"
• "He was probably cheating on her anyway"
• "She looks like a snobby white b*tch"
• "I can see why they didn't sexually assault/rape the oldest daughter"

This attitude and this mentality are EQUALLY abhorrent to the murderer Steven Hayes' actions against this family. In some ways, the condition of the people saying these things is even MORE depraved than that of Steven Hayes. I firmly believe that situations like these where people can display their true colors through the safety of internet anonymity should be a wake up call to the rest of us who have maintained even the slightest humanity within us. The internet can give you a dark and twisted peephole view on the people we live and walk among every day. I only included some of the more "tame" comments made, and that is what's truly frightening here. It is so much easier to be dragged down than to stay standing. Let this be a call to self-awareness as well. Don't ever let yourself adopt a mentality as sick as these commenters.

The Most Beautiful Bridge In NYC

Photo By: Me :)

The Bigger They Are, The Louder They Oink

I got sucked into the Investment Banking industry like that guy who got sucked into the engine of a jet. I should have known what would happen if I got too close, but I leaned in anyway. Like the child who knows the electrical outlet will zap them, but still sticks their finger in. I figured, at the very least, I was starting out on a firm foundation at one of the nations largest and oldest banks.

Lehman Brothers began more than 158 years ago, and in a matter of 10 months I watched  them go from being the pioneers of Wall Street, to the flaming wreckage of Cessna piloted by an arrogant amateur. The early days of my career there were something I will always treasure. I learned much about what NOT to do as a Trader, and subsequently as a human being. We found out about the collapse long before the media did. We were all encouraged to find employment elsewhere, and in between searching job listings, we were telling our clients that their money was safe, and that everything was just fine. To say I have regrets would be an understatement, but if you can't learn from your mistakes, you truly are doomed to repeat them. And I almost did.

I managed to jump off the Lehman Titanic mere moments before it finally hit the iceberg, and lept into an evil little life raft known as Goldman Sachs. I wont say too much about them, because they still remain one of my best reccommendations, and the highlight of my resume. I will, however, discuss my failures there. Good stock trading mostly comes from simple confidence. Skill and education actually play a less significant role. If you aren't brave and risky, you will fail at trading. Risk-taking bravery is often the result of confidence, and it's very easy to be over-confident working at a place like Goldman. Despite all this, I was determined to take advantage of this new opportunity to do things right, which of course was met with significant opposition. On several occasions, I was confronted by people for being "an evil-Goldman employee" or a "corporate thief". The best was when I was called a "greedy Wall-Street pig" which came in a facebook tirade from a woman who used to attend my church with her daughter. I later came to realize that she was ignorant, overall emotionally unstable, and too excited to jump on the latest CNN bandwagon.

Even now, I feel like there are several people in my life who treat me based on how they feel about Wall Street employees. Working as a stock broker is what I've chosen as a career for now, but it does not define me. I want to be known as more than a brash "Wall-Streeter". On the railing of an escalator in midtown, someone graffitied "You are not your job." and that couldn't be more true about all of us! We all put so much time and effort into maintaining a facade, but why? Why are we so afraid of people knowing who we really are? I don't believe that I truly know the people in my life, and I'm tired of it. I know for a fact that they don't know the real me, either. The protective barriers are a waste of time, when we could just skip the cordial crap and have deep and meaningful friendships with one another.

To everyone reading this: I want to get to know the real you. And I invite you to get to know the real me.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words.. and memories

I do not have a single picture of myself with my biological parents.

Why? Such a picture does not exist. Perhaps it's because my father was married at the time of my birth, to someone other than my mother. Or maybe it's because I was such an unexpected accident that they wanted no photo proof I had ever entered and subsequently ruined their lives.

Most people don't realize that they are not owed anything in this life. If you are born into a loving family, are fed and nurtured, and cared about, then consider yourself to be fortunate. None of those things are guaranteed. Sure, we ought to have those things, but there are a lot of people that don't.

I am one of those people. And I'm not writing out of bitterness, but out of concern for the amount of gratitude displayed amongst people. Consider how many times you or someone you know have complained about your parents. Even going so far as to say you hate them.

Growing up without parents made it especially difficult to listen to people say things like that. I would have loved to have a mom that forced me to go food shopping with her, or a dad that grounded me for staying out too late. It may sound weird, but I was always jealous of the kids who had curfews. It showed that they had people who cared where they were and what they were doing.

Sometimes I would sneak out or stay out late just to see if anyone would notice. I even started smoking cigarettes, and no one cared. I got more care and concern from strangers on the street who would approach me, and scold me for being so young and smoking. Strange as it may seem, I felt so loved in those moments. By total strangers. Sy Rogers said it best when he said, "Even bad love is better than no love."

I hope you'll take a minute to consider this. The next time you find yourself complaining about your family, stop and be grateful that you have a family to complain about. Then consider that maybe what you are complaining about might not be that important.

I implore you: be grateful that someone fed you, bathed you, clothed you, and hugged you as a child. You could have had a childhood full of neglect, abuse, and unwarranted hatred, which ultimately leaves you a bitter and twisted adult. If you did have a childhood similar to mine, rest assured that everything does in fact get better. You do actually become a stronger person. It has even helped me as a Christian. My relationship with God is also strong and amazing, because I am able to appreciate Him for the perfect, loving Father that He is. The Father that is always thinking about me [Jer. 29:11]. The Daddy I always wanted. [Rom. 8:15]

A Name Is Worth A Couple Hundred Words

Recently I've had the privilege of spending time getting to know a dear friend of mine. I can now call this person a dear friend of mine, because he has allowed me the opportunity to meet "the real him". Through the process of truly getting to know one another, we shared a lot of the deep, dark, hurtful things about one another's lives that we often try to keep suppressed. One of the most important aspects of getting to know someone is coming to them with a blank slate of opinion on them, and letting them fill in the blanks with fact.

I bring all of this up because, I think we as people believe that our preconceived ideas about people are truly who they are. We have the tendency to superimpose on people the judgments we conjure up, wether positive or negative. In doing all this, we think we know a person long before we ever get to know them. Sometimes this act is so petty, that based on a surname we think we know all about someone.

Though sometimes I am mostly lost during pop culture discussions, I am very grateful for the fact that I am ignorant when it comes to knowing who's who in society. God is no respecter of persons, and I've done my best to adopt that mentality. This ignorance of social standing really came in handy with this particular friend of mine. When I first heard about him, I was told his first name, and then his last name much more dramatically. I looked at the person speaking with a blank stare, and they continued to tell me of my friend's prestigious family, and influential lineage. After all that, I still had no idea who or what they were talking about, and forgot about the whole thing as quickly as I'd heard it all. I wasn't impressed or affected either way, and looked forward to getting to know the individual the same as I would any other new person. I just simply had no idea who they were or what that meant.

Had I created expectations of him based on his family name, I would have missed out on getting to know Taylor Garlock. On the flip side of all this, I refuse to believe he is a "representative" of his entire family. He is his own person, with his own ideas, yet certainly has inherited some of the great things his family is known for. But the most exciting part is that Taylor is creating a wonderful new facet of the "Garlock" name. I say all of this with no romantic undertone, but with admiration of a man who has already survived and achieved much, and who I know will accomplish much more.

Sundae Night

There is something so sweet about Sunday night's that it is hard to find the right words to describe them. A few short years ago, Sunday night was the most dreaded cluster of hours out of every week. As soon as the clock struck 5:00pm, I'd begin to fret as if I was standing on the bow of an old ship being told it was my turn to "walk the plank". The millions of butterflies that would suddenly take up residence in my abdomen would flutter, and surely prevent me from any enjoyment or sleep that night.

Now as you all know, I still don't sleep at night, but it certainly isn't because of Sunday-Night-Fright. These days, Sunday nights are spent with some of my favorite people while eating our favorite foods, bearing one anothers burdens, and exhorting one another. Sometimes when 5:00pm rolls around, I am practically pinning my eye lids open, but on the inside I am anxious to "load up in the van", as my dad always says, and head to 6th ave. We are always running very late, and thus it is something like the Indy 500 on our way there, but when we finally pull up, and are greeted by yet more warm, and downright lovable people, all of your cares melt into the background. From singing songs, to catching up on each other's week, and playing pranks with Lexy and Megan, the time spent at 6th ave is irreplaceable. The preaching is another amazing facet. Somehow it is always exactly what my spirit needed, and I am shown new pieces of truth to carry with me for the week.

The faithfulness of people like the Bialuk's, the Bennett's, and even James Henry Hudson Jr., is inspiring and encouraging to me. I know for me, it's easy to forget that I have an example to set in peoples lives, and sometimes it's tempting to just thrown in the towel with everything. My hope is to be as motivational in others' lives, as these people are in mine.

Then there are the meals that follow. One of the most exciting aspects of Sunday night is the brainstorming about where and what we are going to eat. Mabel is our food connoisseur, and never leads us astray in our quest. She's like the Constantine of restaurants. Close to (or sometimes after) midnight, with none of us wanting it to end, we say our goodbyes, but walk away a little more prepared and rejuvenated to tackle the week's many challenges. Reminds me of that hymn "Love Lifted Me"...

I imagine times sweeter than these wont exist on this side of eternity.

Running the Race

Life in New York City is seldom dull, scarcely quiet, and rarely easy. That's not to say that life in other regions is any better or worse, but since this is where I currently call home, this is where I will be oft referencing. This blog is not meant to be a journal of daily minutae, but more a testimony to the amazing work of Christ in my life, and the lives of those around me. I realize that most people, after reading the previous sentence, will quickly click away from this site, but please, I implore you to stick around. Everything I post on here is true, and will show you the power of the Living God that I serve.

When Elijah challenged the "powers" of Ba'al, and Ba'al proved to be nothing more than a man-made false god, Elijah's confidence in the Living God was proven and made visible among the people. Elijah's desire was for the Lord to show Himself in an amazing way so that the people would believe in Him only! My purpose here is to show you the wondrous things God has done, so that you may believe also. [1 Kings 18]

I will also be chronicling the day-to-day happenings of my life, church, and family, if I find them to be worth noting to you all. And now begins a birds-eye view on an unconventional life as a Christian, living in New York City. But hey, aren't we called to be a peculiar people? [1 Peter 2:9]