How I met your clients

Have you ever watched 'How I Met Your Mother'?  If you haven't, then you should, because I watch it and it's the funniest show in the world.  I realize I'm only like six or seven years behind the bandwagon but hey- better late than never, right?

Anyways, this blog is not about that show, but it invokes a certain character from that show- namely, the show's main character, the "I" of "How I met your mother"- Ted Mosby.  Ted is the freaking man.  He's funny and charming and has a great job (that clearly lets him stay out until all hours of the night and engage in endless shenanigans with Doogie Howser) and is cute and...well, you get the picture.  If Ted Mosby was a real person, then he would always win People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive who is not Jason Parks award (not to be confused with the Sexist Man Alive) and wannabes like Ryan Reynolds and George Clooney would end up stuck in a sidebar somewhere on the cover of Weekly Us.

Like that'll ever happen

So before I get swept away in some bizarre romantic fantasy involving me and a fictional dude, allow me to sort of explain how I plan to tie the character of Ted Mosby into my ongoing and thus far fruitless pursuit of a real-life social work job.  Because I'm totally going to do it, and you're totally going to be like, 'whoa'.

See, Keanu Reeves- he gets it

7 year spoiler alert- in the Pilot of HImym, Ted meets this really funny, charming, hot girl named Robin, and after a super first date, they're up in her apartment, dancing to really romantic music (did I mention it's like 1 in the morning) and Ted tells Robin that he loves her.  Apparently, this is a huge first date no-no, and so the romantic moment ends, Ted walks away- but not before dropping this totally inspirational nugget:
- "You know what? I'm done being single, I'm not good at it. Look, obviously you can't tell a woman you just met that you love her, but it sucks that you can't. I'll tell you something though, if a woman, not you, just some hypothetical woman, were to bear with me through all this, I think I'd make a damn good husband, because that's the stuff I'd be good at. Stuff like making her laugh and being a good father and walking her five hypothetical dogs. Being a good kisser.."

And I think that's when it hit me- I'm like the Ted Mosby of social work.  I'm the guy that would make some human service agency an amazing social worker who is super fun to work with, helps people, and is good at his job.  These past couple years of post-grad living have been like my employment bachelorhood- fun jobs, nothing long term- but now I'm ready for The One.  I'm ready for that commitment.  I'm ready to meet Your Mom.

Good one!

So basically this blog is going to be like an internet cover letter.  It'll cover all the stuff that a cover letter would probably cover, but without the rote formalities and big words that a normal cover letter would have- plus it has pictures.

PICTURES!!!

Before I begin- slight sidebar.  I think that there should be an eHarmony for jobs. Like someone figures out a scientific formula where you answer a bunch of questions and then an employer answers a bunch of questions and your composite scores get matched up based on compatibility.  I just think it'd make more sense than the whole application/resume/interview song and dance that we do, which is very antiquated- it's like going on a blind date, except you're competing with a bunch of other people like an episode of the Bachelor, but you only get one date (two, tops) before having to decide if you want to get married.  Maybe that's why there is such high turnover rate in some jobs and other people stay in places where they clearly aren't happy.

Maybe they have a top-notch benefits package...

Okay, so I'm going to get this started by listing the things that I'm...not.  I'm not going to be a polished professional right off the bat.  I've never been the best at jargon.  I definitely don't have lots of experience- my human service career has largely been filled with hands-on direct-care positions, which means that even though I've still developed a Bat-belt of social work abilities, I've been doing slightly different work in a different setting than my social work peers have been doing.

But let me tell you what I am- besides a good father and a good kisser.

'Sup.

First of all, I'm smart.  Not like, Mensa-smart or anything like that, but pretty darn smart.  I graduated from Northern Michigan University with a 3.97 that probably could have been a 4.0.  I did this while working and helping raise two young children.  I'm sure I'm not unique in this-but it's not a commonality either.  Actually, scratch that.  I accomplished something that has never ever been done before.  I guess I'm also like the Neil Armstrong of social work or something.  Whatevs.  Just another accolade at this point.

I'm able to look at things objectively and from multiple angles.  Life doesn't happen like some linear script- it's more like a lottery ball machine, with a myriad of events and people all jostling around and resulting in interesting things with the faux appearance of randomness.  So not only do I recognize that things aren't often what they seem- I actively seek out tributaries that might not seem to attach to the big river.  Because chances are, they might.

But I also know that I don't know everything- and often times I feel like I don't know anything. So I have the humility to learn from others- including my clients, who are really the experts in their life stories.  I'm not afraid to ask questions or to dig a little deeper.  If I have an area of weakness, I exploit it by trying to improve it.  In college, I took a Gay/Lesbian history class because I recognized that I had a prejudice in this area.  I went in with a (not as much as I thought I had) open mind and learned quite a bit.  I also made a great friend who happens to be a lesbian.  The moral of the story?  I'm awesome.

But this awesomeness didn't just happen like some sort of freak lab accident.  I have a life story of my own, with its own trials and tribulations.  I've been poor.  From the get-go, life has been tough.  Sara and I jumped into marriage as a couple of naive kids strung out on Peter Cetera songs and romantic comedies- which probably would have been fine if we hadn't got pregnant right away and then decided to move into a group home four months into our marriage.  Can you say "Cluster of Stressors"?

Even though life has been tough the last few years, and I feel like we've had to scratch and claw for everything, I also wouldn't trade it for anything (unless it was a few million dollars) because I believe that I've learned from it.  And while I know my story doesn't translate into a cure-all, I think it will help me to not only be more empathetic to my clients- but to also to be able to meet them where they're at (and treat them with dignity and respect).

Did I mention that I'm a husband and a father?  That means something.  Obviously it means that I am motivated to keep my job, since wives and children are expensive to upkeep.  But also, it means that I have a sense of commitment and the ability to work through difficult issues.  While I wouldn't often classify myself as a "selfless" person, I engage in varying degrees of personal sacrifice every day that I'm alive.  It's not always easy and I don't always do the best job- but at the end of the day my family knows that I love them dearly and would do anything for them.  Just like I will your clients, hypothetical future employer.

There's so much more that I could say about myself.  My unconventional path has given me the skills and tools I need to be good at what I do.  And obviously you've picked up that I have a great sense of humor and am an above-average writer.  Both of those are merely latent traits in the overall package that is Jason Parks.  I guarantee that if you give me a job and pay me money- I will be a darn good social worker.  Probably not the best ever- but I'll give you my best, and you'll never even need to say thank you.

As long as your insurance covers chronic hoarseness

PICS-
Weekly US- http://img1.bdbphotos.com/images/orig/f/9/f924btnpo7nento2.jpg
Bill and Teds- http://i4.ytimg.com/vi/OT4B-NJUcZE/0.jpg
High five- http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZytdDbL_DZU/T3R_qolQPvI/AAAAAAAAACQ/RH0RUUALq0s/s1600/internet_high_five-2496.jpg
Ridiculously photogenic guy- http://knowyourmeme.com/photos/283598-ridiculously-photogenic-guy-zeddie-little
Wedding- http://devasuram.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/worst-wedding-photo-4.jpg
Batman- https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDBOm7yzpg-F4eFP2bXnXDtsKTxcPUBFrqxF-1mGZmOBI8wvk59Ewonvpl_4LdAz4eL9dZjXfXy3IKz2G9gb5gCqxELBQXlFgYQ3q9BbcTtqqgoYzkbrRKoIHbvcBLaElFiStc0WJesM/s1600/936full-batman-begins-screenshot.jpg

Green Lantern or dim sparkle?

As a Green Lantern fan, it does make me a little sad that the new Green Lantern movie is getting shredded by the critics (and raking in millions). I mean, if it's a bad movie then it's a bad movie, and I'm glad it's not getting good reviews just because I like the subject manner (although...a world whose culture revolved around my interests and whims...that might be pretty sweet). Still though, if it's getting ripped it's probably because it's not a very good movie- which has been my fear all along.

Of course, I'm not writing about the Green Lantern movie, though I can see why you'd think I was. I titled this blog about the Green Lantern, and dedicated the first paragraph to it. And I hyperlinked to a picture of Ryan Reynolds as the Green Lantern in addition to uploading that same picture into the blog itself (The only reason I did that was to build my point). I have no regrets.

As I am beginning to take my writing more seriously (hey you, stop snickering. Yes, you), and hope to expand my audience base, I know that I am not just opening myself up to more back pats and attaboys. There are people that not only will not like things that I do, but there is the potential that they will be vocal about it. I could get shredded by the critics- just like my beloved Green Lantern movie. Well, maybe I shouldn't say beloved. Actually, I don't know that movie. I came here with somebody else (looks for the exit).

What is better- to have a piece of work (writing, art, movie, etc.) seen by new faces and subsequently get torn apart? Or to put yourself out there in friendly confines and get praise and adulation? I admittedly have a difficult time with criticism- it's difficult for me sometimes to separate the criticism from the relationship. It's one of my fatal flaws. It makes me interesting as a character, and keeps you engaged in my story. And when you put your self out there, whether it be a blog or a poem or a story, then everyone is a potential critic- like the agents in the Matrix.

But if you're a fish, I suspect you would risk the sharks in the open water for a chance at the freedom that your fishbowl cannot afford you. That is the goal. Freedom. That's what makes the thought of being torn apart by those jaws full of teeth worth the risk.

One day I hope to have a huge fan base. Lots of readers. Beaucoup feedback. Because I think that I have valuable things to say. I suspect that most writers do- that's why they write. I realize that when you open yourself up to the world, the world likes to take bites and sometimes swallow you whole. But I'm getting to be okay with that. I know that I'm not perfect, and that my ideas and my technique are not infallible. But I think that people need to pick up what I'm putting down. You might want to smell what I'm stepping in. And if I receive a few lacerations and third degree burns along the way, I'll chalk it up as a success and put another notch in my belt.

Passion play

My cousin is pretty phenomenal. He's the other half of the famous Scottish Cousins that terrorized Alma and several Parks family Christmases. He went to the Ohio State University because U-M screwed him over (that might not be true). He's a NASA man. He competitively swing dances. He rocks a fedora. Every day, he takes a picture of whatever he's doing at 7:59 p.m.- just so you know what he's doing every day at 7:59. Geez, I feel like I'm writing a spot for the Most Interesting Man man. But that's just who he is. He's like Miles Davis.

So why did I write this paragraph of gushing praise? It's to let you know two things.

1) The following piece (in italics) was written by him as a Facebook note.

2) It would have been an amazing piece had anyone else written it. The fact that he wrote it means that it is amazing multiplied by all that stuff I said about him. To say that it had a Deep Impact on me would be to say that Ryan Reynolds is 'cute'.

Anyways, I'll stop talking (for now). Here is what he wrote.

This week there has been a big flap about the second coming of Jesus thanks to Harold Camping and his followers. Anyone who reads the overt literal text of the new testament can see that the bible is clear that no one knows when Christ will return. So in view of this, I've done my share of making fun of them. But in the middle of all of that, something has bothered me.

I never hoped that they were right.

Today, May 22, is the day after the end of the world. And for the people who sincerely believed that yesterday was supposed to be different, it's got to be unsettling. "Obviously I was wrong, but how much have I been wrong about?" The fact that the sun came up today finding everyone still on earth would shake my faith if I were in their shoes.

The thing is I believe the bible does say that Christ will come again... sometime. But, if Christ never came, I doubt that it would shake my faith. Which makes me ask, do I really believe it?

In the same way that the followers of Harold Camping are asking themselves how much they were wrong about, I find myself asking how much I actually believe. What are the parts of my worldview that, if I were wrong about, would shake my life to the core?

Honestly, I'm not sure if there's anything. And as someone who claims to follow Jesus, that troubles me. It troubles me that I have not arranged my life around the things I claim to believe. It troubles me that I have not pushed all my chips to the center of the table. I have diversified my portfolio of belief, between Christianity and deism. And in doing so, I can't help but think that the impact of my life is less than it could be.

People of passion make a difference. And say what you will about Harold Camping, for the last month or so, his passion has made a difference in his world.

People of passion make a difference. People with passion for the right things make the right difference.

Lord, give me a passion for the right things.

After reading that, I realized that I haven't really ever been a person of passion either. Not just with this Jesus thing- I mean with everything. Sure, I've had passions, but there are no passion fission chain reactions in my internal fuel rod core.

Before I get too rock-n-roll, let's look at what Mr. Dictionary has to say about passion. I'm only listing what I feel to be the relevant-to-blog definitions.

Passion (taken from dictionary.com)
–noun
1.any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate.
6.a strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire for anything.
8.an outburst of strong emotion or feeling.

So I can breathe easy. I've had moments of passion before. Felt a powerful feeling? Check. Extravagant fondness? I can think of a few. Outburst of strong emotion? Uh huh. But what about being a person of passion- a person not merely experiencing passion, but living their life in a passionate fashion?

Passionate - adjective 1. having, compelled by, or ruled by intense emotion or strong feeling; fervid

Houston, we have a problem.

I've always been like an outsider looking in. My emotional spectrum doesn't have very many colors, and the ones it has aren't well developed. I'm an objective observer in a subjective life. I exist primarily in my mind. Life happens all around me, and I watch. I soak it all in, playing out the scenarios in my brain, trying to unravel the mysteries without so much as a peep or a facial twitch.

When I first got 'saved', it was largely because of fear- my scattered base of biblical knowledge started to bubble up when I was in my first collegiate tour of duty. I was afraid of the end of the world. I was having thoughts of Jesus coming back and me being left there as my mom and sister were whisked away. At night, I began to pray 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep' because I was afraid of what might happen to my soul if I were to suddenly pass away. Eventually, through a series of what I still believe to be divinely orchestrated events, I found a church, and I found Jesus. I did the whole sinners prayer thing, and I was off and running- and my fear of God was fed continuously by things like Y2K, the Left Behind books, and 9/11. And when I say 'fear of God', I don't mean the 'reverent awe that is the gateway to wisdom' fear. I mean the 'Crap, I better toe the line so I don't get zapped' fear.

Even in those days, I was not a passionate person. I was never "on-fire" for God- at least not in a way that I envision people being on-fire. Several times I have heard the verse from Revelations admonishing believers to "return to your first love" and it might as well have been delivered in a foreign language. I do believe that I have loved God with all of the ability to do so that I could muster. But I've never had true passion or zeal for the Lord- because I've never had an inner well to draw these things from.

The Facebook note really brought all of these issues to a head, and I realized that I had become perched on a precipice of sorts. A professing Christian man who has been hedging his bets with a faith that in reality has sort of danced between deism and pragmatic agnosticism. A thirst for knowledge, a desire to challenge the conventions of our society (including the religious systems)- and a deeply held belief that Jesus is who I have been told He is.

See even though I question things about the Bible- and sometimes feel like just disregarding it altogether- I cannot shake the fact that for all my faults and flaws and mistakes and half-faiths and doubts and questions, I have had meetings with spiritual forces greater than my own understanding in the name of Jesus. I met and eventually married an amazing woman in the name of Jesus. I started playing drums in the name of Jesus. So to me, there simply has to be something to this Jesus.

I suppose the preceding paragraphs could be seen as an exposure of a fraud. After all, I've been a youth leader. I've worked at a Christian bookstore and a Christian school. I've played worship music for over ten years. All without having a life that was defined by a passionate pursuit of the One to whom I said I was living for.

I disagree though. I feel that I've loved God and lived a Christian life to the best of my abilities for these past 12 years. But I know now that this is not enough. The note my cousin posted on Facebook resonated very deeply with me. I realized that I have managed for these 32 years of life to be a shallow surface person. That doesn't just go for God- that's friends, family, and even my wife. I constantly keep things in the kiddie pool because not only am I unsure of what lies in the depths of myself, but I'm not sure how to get there. A friend spoke a word over me a few years ago, telling me that I was like an 'iceberg of greatness'. I've been lying in wait for most of my life, slightly visible from the surface. But now the great ship Titanic has come (in this analogy, my cousins writing) and struck in a place that no one could have possibly imagined if they were merely glancing at the oceans top.

So what now? A clean slate- a God-sanctioned do-over. In a place of brokenness Sara and I came together last night to pray about all this. As I prayed I felt this sense of heavy, overwhelming peace just flood my being. At the same time, I felt a sort of weightlessness. It was amazing! Afterward I started to try and think of any sort of physiological causes- and I stopped. I realized that whether it was the physically manifest presence of the Lord or some sort of neurological response was irrelevant. The fact is that I prayed and felt the most intense, yet softest, peace I have ever felt. And it happened during a prayer. To this Jesus. I don't need a reason. I don't need a reason.

So this is me starting to go all in. This is me pushing my chips gently to the center of the table. This is me building my faith not upon fear of the end, but upon tangible peace that engulfs me. This is me- becoming a person of passion.