Virtually Paul

Junk Mail

I used to deliver Junk Mail when I was in high school but that was back when I didn’t have my own letterbox to clear.  My Mum loves the stuff, so the year when all of the catalogues got delivered by a truck to our house a few days before I delivered them to everyone else, she was pretty happy.   She even used to pass the leftovers on to people from church and from her work, who lived in other areas and didn’t get the catalogues for particular shops.

Suffice it to say, there is a market out there for junk mail.  People read it and they make purchase decisions based on it.  A percentage of the population study it.  Some probably just look at the front if something catches their eye.  Either way, the companies are making money, so they’re happy to pay for us to receive it.

In my situation though, I’m wondering whether it’s a justifyable use of paper.  Chances are that if I really need to buy something, I’ll work that out on my own.  Knowing that Dick Smith have those BlueAnt phone car kits for $99 is in no way helpful for my bank balance.  I am probably going to buy one now and it’s all Geoff’s fault for leaving the catalogue lying on the kitchen bench.  Not to mention the car stereo I saw in the JBs catalogue, which also reminds me of all of the DVDs that I was thinking I might buy.

In my previous two houses, one of my housemates was a massive greenie, so he got his black texta and wrote “No Junk Mail” on the letterbox.  It usually faded off after a while and when he moved out (got married), the junk mail started to come back.  Someone would generally bring it inside but none of us read it.  For a good while there, we were stockpiling it behind the front door.

Anyway, feeling quite chuffed with myself, I found one of those annoying magnetic cards that politicians use to advertise themselves (with a few emergency phone numbers and a calendar in an attempt to thinly disguise it).  I peeled off the card, wrote “no junk mail” on the paper-y surface still stuck to the magnet, and whacked it on the letterbox.  It was recycling poetry.

Now that I’m sharing with Geoff, the ball game has changed a bit.  It seems he isn’t anywhere near as junk mail averse as myself.  So, while I’d like to go for the permanent solution and put the magic sign on the letterbox once again (or alternatively put the recycling bin next to it), it seems that Geoff isn’t particularly passionate about it either way.

What’s your stance?

Young adults aren’t sticking with church

An article from USA Today summarising recent research into the protestant church fall-away rate, for young adults who participated in a church during their teenage years.

Moving Day

I’ve spent today moving most of my useful belongings to my new place out east. It’s been a satisfying day. I’ve had the opportunity to go through most of my stuff, throughout the process of packing and unpacking, and I’ve got myself better organised than I have been for a while. It’s a good feeling. The house is great. It’s much better than both of the other two shared houses that I’ve lived in.

What makes it even better are all of the furniture, appliances and kitchen stuff that I get to benefit from as one of the fantastic perks of sharing with a man who just got engaged. And I’m not just talking about a knife block Lance. These guys have a pretty cool setup.

Of course, leaving the old north-west didn’t come without a second thought. I had a bit of a moment here tonight as I was unloading my stuff. The house was dimly lit and very quiet. And it all hit me like a wave. There I was, surrounded by pretty much everything I really need to live quite comfortably for some time, but in a new suburb, some distance from pretty much everyone I know, feeling like somewhat of a visitor in the house.

The words came out aloud “What on earth amI doing here?” A few light-switches later, with a bit of a classic old CD on the stereo and I started to feel a bit better. I spent some time just praying as well, which is always a great idea for those’moments’. And now that I’ve set up my room, I’m sure I’ll be pretty cosy.

I’m not entirely sure how long the feeling of being out of place will take to completely go away - but I know that God has brought me here. Let the adventures begin!