“I Don’t Care About Being Right Anymore” (by Marshall Pickard)


Alright, confession time.

As I recently boarded a plane to Italy, I began reading Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code…

I know, I know. As a pre-teen evangelical, I promised myself I would never commit the cardinal sin of reading such a blasphemous book. But I mistakenly thought it was set in Rome (not Paris), so I gave it a shot.

Here’s a quote I found quite interesting from the book’s nerdy but awesome (Tom Hanks, ya’ll) protagonist, Robert Langdon:

“[E]very faith in the world is based on fabrication. That is the definition of faith—acceptance of that which we imagine to be true, that which we cannot prove.”

Wow. That’s some deep stuff—some philosophy that hits hard against my need to always be right.

My experience with church has been this: I was raised as a PK, so I had to be “on” all the time. Even running in the halls as a kid would result in an intervention from the deacons, and with my every move being so scrutinized, I felt more like a Kardashian than the son of a clergyman.

I’ve always loved the Lord, but I was more than happy to head off to my liberal arts university (albeit, Christian) for some time away from the dry religious season of a rough last semester in high school. Hurt too many times, I needed some distance from the family of God.

But at school, after some space to heal, I got plugged in again at a local church and eventually found myself participating in an accountability group and leading a weekly small group in my dorm. I learned that church was more about “doing life with people” and less about performing the letter of the Law flawlessly.

And yet, there still remained the question of doctrine. At my university, I was challenged to look outside my box and ask big questions about my faith. Often this left me more frustrated than I felt I could stand. With so many interpretative differences inside the church, how could I know what to choose to believe? Eventually, I basically adopted a stance Socrates would have been proud of: admitting I ultimately know nothing.

One thing I do know is this: knowing Jesus is so much more about humility than knowing all the answers.

But still answers are important because in the south, I live in a society soaked in the Christian subculture, and I occasionally find myself at odds with it. I am still frustrated at gender bias in the global church. I think Pentecostals focus too much on prosperity, but I think Calvinists focus too much on suffering. I hate how the Church responded the recent World Vision debacle, and I cringe every time I hear someone equate Phil Robertson’s crude comments from last December with “the Gospel.” I think we all talk about “feeding the poor” too much because none of us actually do it. I hate interdenominational spats and heated theological Twitter battles over unresolvable issues.

And I honestly don’t care whether you went to see God’s Not Dead or Noah at the movies or what you thought about it.

But I’m not actually angry at the Church. I just often find myself out of place—too progressive for the Church and too conservative for the world.

Visiting the Roman Colosseum this week, I thought long and hard about the suffering of Christians slaughtered in this ancient arena.

For them, the Church was their lives. It was definitely not a place where you had to have the right answers or pretend you believed everything you are supposed to believe.

For these early believers, church was a place to meet Jesus—the ultimate truth—often through the community of others who also risked their lives to tell of the goodness of God.

No offense to Rome, but after seeing the grandeur of the Vatican, I began thinking about what Jesus—the man who scolded the religious so often—would think about the production we’ve made church.

I think he would turn the temple tables of our insistence to be right, our theological debates that never get anywhere, our hurtful intolerance for one another, and the false idols we have fabricated and propagated.

Then he would turn the table back over, break out some bread and wine, and invite those who don’t have it all figured out to have a seat. In place of religious dogma, he would teach us the message of Ephesians 4:3—finding peace from all life’s questions by choosing to live in unity with our brothers.

There in his sweet company, the disillusioned Church wouldn’t care so much about being right anymore.

Marshall is currently backpacking all across Europe (the lucky guy), having spent the semester  abroad on the same trip I went on last year. Read more from him on his blog, The Train of His Robe.

to be really human (by Don Black)

2013-04-27 16.58.54

The man, the myth, the legend: Don Black. Writing a bio about your brother is a bit difficult because he’ll most likely disagree with everything I write, but as his oldest sister, I’m allowed to brag.  A senior in high school, Don is absolutely brilliant (I’d share his ACT score, but he’d definitely kill me), witty, talented, and 100% devoted to excellence. He’s also incredibly competitive–Don decided to contribute a guest post because he wanted to write something beyond the (apparently) saccharine stuff I usually post. Although he did  have a delightfully hilarious Twitter account that I would often steal jokes from (whoops), Don has decided to pursue the calling of an enigma & has shut down basically everything, so sadly you can’t follow him on anything. If you really want to reach him, his cell phone number is 615-96… just kidding. Read stuff by Don now before he becomes a famous philosopher. It’s going to happen, trust me. 

A couple of years ago, at the end of his second term, President Clinton visited an elementary school classroom in North Texas, and, in his usual political fashion, asked the students what they would like to be when they grow up. “An astronaut” one said. “A Wall Street banker” said another.  And as they all went around the room, Clinton noticed a young, shy boy in the back of the room, not standing up to give his answer.  So, Clinton, feeling slightly empathetic, called on this boy specifically and asked “Son, what do you want to be when you grow up?” The boy paused, looked around and quickly said “The President of the United States, sir.” Clinton, proud of himself for noticing the boy and flashing his signature laugh, brashly responded “Doesn’t one of us already have that job?” The boy just smiled and softly said “Why yes, sir, of course. You’re just keeping the seat warm.”


Looking back at the story from the comfortable perspective of our pixels, it is easy to laugh at the kid; laugh at his naivety, laugh at his ego, at his absolute certainty that he was correct.  But in some ways, we aren’t really that different.

After all, for many of us, we’ve been told our entire lives that we are special, that we can become President of the United States, that we can do anything we like. That the same cold and unfeeling rules that apply to everyone else in the world don’t really also apply to us.


And, we will go our entire lives thinking like this, because, well, to ourselves, we are special.

I mean, think about it. Everything in our immediate experience supports the idea that we are at the very center of the Universe. Things happen to us. People speak to us. Events take place behind us or around us or near us. Other people’s needs and perspective have to be communicated to us, while ours are so urgent, so pressing, so real.


For instance, if you are pulling into a parking lot of your local supermarket: Kroger, Publix or wherever you choose to buy your bread, and someone cuts you off or uses your chosen parking spot, your immediate thought is of yourself: how deeply and personally unfair and insulting this is, how they simply cannot understand what sort of hurry you are in. And when you walk into the store and check out and are told to “have a good day” with a face that is absolutely the face of death, your next thought is of yourself as well: how you have had a tough day already and how you are a paying customer and how you are certainly entitled to better treatment than that.

But perhaps, or at least what I’d like to suggest to you today, that type of attitude is entirely the wrong way to consider the situation. Maybe the person who cuts you off on the road has a way bigger, more legitimate reason to hurry than you do; maybe they have a pregnant wife or a sick child moaning in the seat next to them, maybe it is really you that is in their way. Maybe the cashier with the face of death has just come back from comforting their dying mother or father, only to have to deal with an endless onslaught of bills, a hopelessly mundane job and entitled customers, like you.

Thinking like this can be tiring, exhausting even, because, of course, none of those things I mentioned are likely, or even probable. But they are possible however, and it all just depends on the things that you would like to consider.

If you are automatically sure that you know what reality is, that you know exactly what to consider, then, if you are like me, you probably won’t consider any possibilities that aren’t annoying, terrible and miserable.


But if you really learn how to pay attention and learn what to consider, then it becomes actually within your power to create meaning from whatever your situation; when you are bored and exhausted waiting in a grocery story, when you are bitter and cynical driving down the interstate. Any personal hell type circumstance can be turned into something wonderful, magical even, if you just learn what it is that you need to consider.

And that is the really the capital-T type truth that I want to talk about: we get to create our own meaning.

We get to tell our own story.

And, for better or for worse, we get to decide what that story is.

We can choose to tell a sad, cynical story: remember our failures and let them make us fear for the future, remember the times we fell and let them discourage us from jumping, remember our heartbreaks and let them keep us from falling in love; or, we can choose to tell a happy story, we can choose to be happy.

But, of course, telling a happy story isn’t easy.

And there has most definitely been days when I just didn’t feel like it, when it would have been easier to retreat back into myself, back into my comfort zone, back where I know every paint chip and every thread. And there are also times when I feel like that it’s deserved cynicism, that it’s earned; that Republicans have earned the title of homophobic, that Rush Limbaugh deserves to be called a bigot. And sometimes I feel so absolutely angry and apathetic and disgusted that everything feels like bullshit, that oblivion is inevitable and my dreams are elusive so why even try, why even get up, get moving?


And at times, cynicism can feel crushing, overwhelming, engulfing. But that’s only because cynicism and apathy are the easy ways out.

It’s easy to laugh at those taking a stand, it’s easy to strive to be tragically hip and cool, putting on a constant face of scorn and ridicule to protect your vulnerabilities from any incoming arrows or swords.


(See the full comic here)

Because really, cynicism is just a reaction to that, to vulnerability. To protect yourself from hurt, from pain. To retreat back into the corner of your tall, guarded castle, back where you know every paint chip and every thread. It pretends that it’s wisdom, or some kind of prior knowledge, but it’s not. Not really. It’s just a lazy way to say that you’ve been hurt before. What passes for hip, cynical transcendence of sentiment nowadays is really, I think, some kind of fear of being really human, since to be really human is probably to be unavoidably hopeful and sentimental and naive and goo-prone and generally pathetic.


And in the end, I believe that is our ultimate choice: do we wish to participate in a philosophy of cynicism or in a philosophy or hope?

And when I say “hope”, I’m not talking blind optimism here, the kind of hope that makes you think that we will save our planet if we just don’t do anything about it or that your crush will fall in love with you if you just sit by and wait, but something more substantial, something more real. It’s the hope of astronauts rocketing off into the great unknown, the hope of Columbus sailing the ocean blue. It’s the hope of slaves singing freedom songs around a fire, the hope of immigrants setting sail for a distant land.

Here’s what you can do to make today’s world a better world, a more hopeful world. The next time you hear something naive, crazy, stupid, ridiculous, optimistic or hopeful, don’t laugh, scorn or ridicule; stop, breathe for a moment and move on.

Everyone is just trying their best. Sometimes we’re crazy, sometimes we’re stupid, and sometimes we all deserve a little bit of ridicule. Every last one of us.

Let’s just give each other a pass, shall we?

P90X and the Wisdom of Grace (by Lyndsey Graves)

DSC_0075 Pay close attention, because Lyndsey Graves is the writer to watch. I’m basically trying to copy her-- I’m lucky enough to know her “in real life.” Her point of view made our sometimes boring COMM classes always interesting. When she’s a renowned writer one day, I’m going to be able to say “I know her! We took that horrible Public Speaking class together!” Lyndsey has been featured Thought Catalog, Threads UK, and most recently, On Pop Theology. A recent PopTheology article was shared on Twitter by Rachel Held Evans, one of my favorite bloggers and authors! Off to Boston University to begin her Master of Theological Studies, catch her on Twitter or her blog, [To Be Honest.]

I first started exercising regularly to impress a boy. We would meet with a couple other people in his basement to practice muay thai, the style of kickboxing you usually see in MMA stand-up fighting. It was terribly romantic.

Something I really admired about him (and still do) was that he worked out every day – and not just nice 20-minute jogs. He would either spend an hour in the gym at our college, or he would do an entire P90X workout. You know how the big thing for a while was to brag about doing P90X on facebook? Those workouts are as intense as everyone said they were. Really painful. Push push push don’t stop. You feel really accomplished afterwards, but while you’re actually doing the workout, you keep going by sheer willpower and grit and being yelled at.

I impressed the boy well enough to get mono from him, and by the time I had worked my way from sleeping 16 hours a day down to 12, I was completely stir-crazy. Out of sheer boredom I took up yoga, because I could challenge myself without becoming exhausted, and suddenly I was exercising regularly for myself for the first time. As my body healed from the virus, it also became more strong and flexible, and I fell in love with yoga for teaching me to fall in love with my body. 

Yoga should be hard – you stretch a little further every time and, of course, try to balance in strange contortions – but it’s not really meant to be strenuous. It’s static; it’s silent; it’s about listening to your body and welcoming the ache in your muscles. You’re meant to keep your face relaxed, not contorted in pain, as you find balance, strength, and flexibility within yourself, through your breath. Form is everything, so you can notice yourself in order to care for yourself. Where P90X or sprinting or swimming can feel like a battle against your body to get to the finish line, you can only do yoga well by listening to your body, loving your body, and entering into the present moment.

I realize this may sound very hippy-dippy, and you may still not consider yoga to be a “workout”, all that standing around gazing at your hand in the air or whatever. The first year or so that I did it, I felt the same way – like it was something I enjoyed doing, but only kind of counted as “exercise”. Difficult though it is, It’s certainly not a sustained cardio session, and it’s not going to GET YOU RIPPED. Most people who do yoga all the time are very strong and very skinny.

I only really came to appreciate its importance after that first year, when I decided one day on a whim to join the old boyfriend and his daily-workout buddy for a session of P90X interval training. It’s probably the very most intense, go go go sort of workout I’ve ever seen, one of these “extra” options for after you’ve gotten too good for regular P90X. It was their third or fourth time doing it in a month, and they warned me that it was nearly impossible to get through and I should take a break, get some water, sit out whenever I needed. Being none too confident in my abilities at REAL SERIOUS EXERCISE TO THE MAX, I agreed with them that I’d probably collapse after five minutes.

So we started the video, wherein you do some sort of move as hard and fast as you can for 20 seconds, take a 10 second break, and then move on to the next. And I, in official exercise parlance, beasted it. I mean, it was difficult and horribly painful, but I was still going strong when the guys were extending their breaks. We were all confused by this at first. But as we kept going I realized that my breathing was significantly slower than theirs, even as my heart rate went through the roof. It had become second nature to me, when exerting myself physically, to work with my body instead of fighting against it, and to draw energy from deep breaths that tried to fill every corner and cavity with oxygen. It occurred to me then that yoga is not a watered-down, lazy man’s pretend-exercise, but that my focused and gentle practice really had brought major change to my body and its abilities to do all kinds of other things.

I am always trying to P90X my faith and my life. I worry that I’ll get lazy or disobedient, and so I try to do everything really well all the time. I read a bunch of Francis Chan books a couple of years ago and decided that really sold-out Christians should constantly be doing very difficult things. I get all strenuous about doing devotions every day, being kind to everyone, volunteering all the time, or “stewarding” my time and money and body TO THE MAX. I’m unwilling to be gentle and patient with myself.

Circumstances and my expectations for myself have made for a past year that was certainly very difficult. It wasn’t all bad and I did get stronger, but if I’d kept going the same way, I was on my way to serious burnout. Now that I’ve been given the gift of a few restful weeks at my parents’ house, I’m realizing it’s time for a yoga season. For rediscovering myself, for learning what it means to feel the stretch without overextending. For being gentle with myself the way God is, and doing the very different work of re-centering in him. I’m starting to realize that the P90X seasons of huge exertion and growth aren’t opposed to the yoga seasons of loving myself and learning calm, the way I used to think they were. The next time life requires a sprint, I’ll be centered; and I’ll be faster; and that is the wisdom of grace.

I’m Responsible (by Ivey Lawrence)


Aside from being my very last undergrad roommate, Ivey Lawrence has been my international adventure partner, Netflix marathon enthusiast, boring Media Law class co-survivor, encouraging confidant, tattoo conspirator, Facebook stalking accomplice, and incredible friend. Despite knowing one another for the majority of college, we became really close, really fast while in England together this past spring. I couldn’t imagine my adventures there without her with me!  She’s a part of an incredible team in the nonprofit organization People for Care and Learning and recently had the opportunity to travel with them to Cambodia for outreach! Ivey’s changing the world, one day at a time–I’m excited to see all great things she will accomplish! Follow along with her adventures on her blog, A Plaything of Circumstance, or follow her on Twitter!


While the real, Merriam-Webster, definition of this word includes phrases like “being liable” and “able to answer,” it really just seems like a distant ethical standard you may remember your mother teaching you. It’s not a word that defines our culture or generation (or country, if we’re being honest). But, it’s a word that, if we paid closer attention to it, we could be living in a significantly better world.

What if you looked at every connection, relationship and endeavor through the eyes of responsibility?

I imagine us at work, concerned about being able to answer that we did everything right, not just quickly. I see us realizing that relationships involve a lot more than just emotions. Responsibility in a relationship doesn’t mean that you have to have it all together; it just means that you’re liable to tell the truth. It means that even when quitting is easier, maybe figuring out how to move forward is the right and responsible thing to do. I picture us not abusing substances, so that the next morning, after making an irresponsible decision, we can’t just (as Jamie Foxx says) blame it on the alcohol.

But what about responsibility for bigger things outside of your personal surroundings? I know, I know — you’re tired of hearing the phrase “social responsibility.” Even though it’s one of the buzzwords of this generation, it’s one of the things that we’ve gotten right. So, what is your responsibility to the world outside of your own? And why are you responsible?

You (Well, I’d say 99.99% of you) are fortunate enough to rarely have to worry about your basic needs being met. You know you have a bed to sleep in, clothes to wear and food to eat (and let’s be honest, probably a heck of a lot more than that). Now, we all know that we didn’t pick the life we live, so, for that same reason, shouldn’t we be responsible to help the people who didn’t pick their lives in the slums or their lives without freedom (etc.)? My personal opinion is yes, yes of course. And for those of you who may have differing opinions, we have serious beef.

Now, I’m going to assume that most people reading this wouldn’t disagree with my statement above, but I’m also going to assume that most people haven’t let the feeling of responsibility grip them enough to do something about it.

Yes, I feel so strongly about this responsibility that I work for a non-profit that exists solely to eradicate those exact problems associated with people living in poverty. Does that mean you have to work for a non-profit to show responsibility? Absolutely not (and I hope you already knew that answer).

You can, however, show responsibility, create change and help those in need without dedicating your career to it.

I think it’s actually pretty simple; we just have to consciously make decisions to do it. So, you may be asking, “How exactly do I do it?”

Here are a few suggestions of (very simple) ways to show responsibility for those who need someone to take responsibility of them:

  1. Support a cause. Shop on websites like Sevenly or Movement 52, they have awesome clothes, but it’s actually going to support very worthy causes (and they give you the exact details of where your money is going).
  2. Shop responsibly. When you’re at Target, purchase from the Feed USA clothing line, instead of Mossimo…because the money you spend on that line of clothing is actually going towards feeding your fellow Americans that live without knowing when they’ll eat their next meal.
  3. Sponsor a child. Don’t think it actually makes a difference in their lives? I beg to differ. Not only have I seen the children at People for Care & Learning‘s (the non-profit I work for) orphanages lives changed by sponsorship, but I know that it actually improves children’s lives all over the world. If you like the facts, like I do, here’s a great article on how Sponsoring a Child Can Change the World.
  4. Volunteer. I guarantee that there is poverty, not only across the world, but in your “backyard.” I, myself, live in a city where 30 % of the people living here live under the poverty line. You might not have money, but I know can find a way to make some time. There are organizations everywhere that are in need of help, so that the people you share a city with can live another day.

Take a risk by getting involved, choose the opposite of easy and comfortable, spend your extra money on something other than yourself and, most importantly, let responsibility drive you to find the niche where you can inspire hope in someone else’s life.

I’m a Venti Black Iced Tea (with Sweetener) (by Evan Olson)

150625_4238045584986_2069791569_nWhenever people hear about how Evan Olson and I became friends, they’re rather incredulous. “Wait, are you sure you’re not just describing a typical Nora Ephron screenplay?,” they ask. Nope. We joke about that fact, because it’s not everyday that you become friends & never actually encounter one another–only to finally meet in Times Square around Christmastime. (And guess what happened when we DID meet up? We hated one another…until the last day of the trip!) Evan works at everyone’s favorite local coffee shop (you’ve probably never heard of it. Starbucks?), has great taste in music/books/films, and is a fantastic writer, composing words in such a way that as you read, you can almost imagine them being transformed into a pilot for a quirky TV show. You need to seriously follow him on Twitter or his blog ASAP, because he’s got a lot to say! 

Without fail, it happens every week.

I see someone around town and, instantly, I realize two things simultaneously;

·         They are a customer.

·         And I know their drink.

I’ve worked at Starbucks for almost three years. It’s the most enjoyable job I’ve ever had. There are time when it’s stressful, for sure. But all that stress is kind of forgotten about when it’s a Tuesday morning, Frank Sinatra is singing swoon songs over the radio, and customers are slowly trickling in for their morning usual. It’s magical and, on those days, exactly what you’d expect it to be like.

I live in a fast-growing suburb of Des Moines, Iowa. But it’s not huge, yet, so it’s easy to bump into people. Customers included. It never fails to make me smirk when I see people who I have no real connection to and immediately know their beverage. I’ll be with my sister, we’ll walk by someone at Target, and I’ll whisper, “That’s grande mocha.” Or, “That’s double-cupped raspberry white mocha. She’s the one who screamed at me and called us all…..” You get the drift.

I’ll never forget this past week. We were at Target (Seriously, I go their once a week. Sue me. It’s the most relaxing place in the universe) and I commented to my sister how I had just walked by six different customers. It was a very Christopher Nolan-y moment: they were all connected and they didn’t even know it! Six degrees of separation – Starbucks style.

Speaking of people and their beverages, I’ve noticed something. Simply put: after a designated amounted of time, customers begin to resemble their drinks. It takes about three weeks for it to happen. The person has to first begin coming in routinely, then they have to settle on a beverage, and they gotta order that same beverage six or seven times. After that, it goes like clockwork.

Example A: This one woman always orders a Earl Grey Tea Latte with no classic, two Sweet and Low, non-fat milk, and light whip. Whenever I hand her the drink I think, “If you were a drink, you would be this one.” The teabags are a purple-colored hue and, somehow, she seems to always be wearing something with that general color. It’s weird and she’s not the only one it happens to.

It’s a lot like people who own pets and how they slowly begin to morph into the human equivalent of their Pomeranian. Diehard customers (male, female, tween, and college students) they all begin to resemble what they drink.

This theory brings me to a question: what drink would you be? Continue reading

The Trendy City (by Rachel Johnson)

 599541_10151700049309629_830056510_nNo matter where Rachel Johnson goes, she is a highly influential trendsetter. She just can’t help it! From her own personal style and insight to hilarious videos and thoughtful articles, Rachel is always the first to spot a trend and share it. She’s so talented at trendsetting that she’s been interning at NR Styles in NYC all summer! Rachel and I have been friends for the past few years and she’s one of the most hilarious, consistently thoughtful, wise, & stylish people I know! If you met her, you’d be friends with her right away. Follow her on Twitter or read about her summer adventures at NYC Summertime!

NYC is known for its diverse styles and fashion forward trends brought to us by the local runway designers and the average West Village hipster.


So how does one stay “trendy” in the ever changing, stylish city?

(I must be honest, I’m currently in my pj’s because I have a day off. No judgement here.)

1. You have style.

Yes, you do.

Each person has one thing that identifies their style.

Now, this could be an article of clothing, a type of accessory, a bright lipstick, etc.
OR your style could be identified through your smile.
The way you carry yourself.
Confidence that exudes from your walk.


Whatever it may be, you have a unique factor that makes your style “you”.

2. Trends always change.

The question really is- How much do you care to keep up with them?

You see, no one in this city cares about how you look.
That’s what makes NYC so unique.

You wear whatever you want. You think you look like the sh*t. But no one really cares.

That sounds depressing, but it’s really not!

You can get away wearing anything in the city.
(Seriously, I’ve seen some weird outfits)

I do like to look at trends via various style bloggers and fashion sites
(or via http://nrstyles.com/blog )

3. Just be yourself.

I once got this exact fortune from a cookie and it’s one of two that I have kept.


(also was disappointed to see my fortune obviously isn’t unique but that’s another post…)

If you measure your happiness on constantly having the latest fashion trends,
then you will constantly be seeking after happiness.

The trends change.

The trends come back
(where’s my jumper from 5th grade?!)


Just wear what makes you happy and confident.

I’d much rather go to McDonald’s in my sweatpants than eat a salad in a skin-tight mini dress.

To each his own.

Find that unique factor that only YOU have and own your style.



5 Awesome Things (by Devin White)

(The best things in life are those you can share, right? Well, unless of course it’s mono or debt.  I’m excited to share this blog with some of the most interesting, diverse bloggers I know! That’s right,  I’m kicking off my brand new GUEST WRITING SECTION! I’ve assembled a super team of fellow bloggers who range in writing about everything from fashion and food to video games and philosophy! Get ready to have fun, find new favorite blogs, and maybe even discover something awesome!)


 When I stepped into my first college classroom back in 2009, there sat Devin White. And then he was in my class following the first…and the next one after that…and also my Bible seminar on Tuesdays & Thursdays. Four years, many honors classes, a trip to Italy, and countless debates later, he remains one of my most intriguing &  loyal friends (despite that one time he threatened to unfriend me when I was fundraising for my Greek club).  Devin reviews films, video games, and  other stuff on his blog D.A. White. Or catch him on  Twitter!  

In Malcolm Gladwell’s book, The Tipping Point, he refers to a group of people who find satisfaction from sharing things they find and are responsible for why some trends suddenly become incredibly popular. I forget the name of this category of people Gladwell describes, but I have found it true for my own life. I am one of those people who loves to share with people something I think they will love in the hopes that they will share it as well.

So when Kelsy Black asked me to do a guest post, I decided to take this opportunity to shed some light on some amazing things that I think people should know about.

So, without further ado, here are 5 awesome whatevers.


This was the comic that made me realize that I loved this.

I do not read many webcomics, and of those that I do read, there are not many I would recommend to everyone. JL8 is one such webcomics. Originally entitled Little League, JL8 describes the adventures of Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and the rest of the Justice League as they go through kindergarten as little kids.

That premise right there would automatically make me a fan, but what elevates this beyond a simple joke is the incredible characterization of all the different heroes. I have never been this invested in an 8-year old’s romantic life, and JL8 has some truly heartbreaking moments while always coming back to a sunny and hopeful view of life. It is surprisingly good storytelling, and while comic book geeks will get some extra in-jokes, everyone will find something to enjoy in this comic. Continue reading