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Girl gets a name

so i finally named my dog.

i've been calling her 'girl' for a while, which approaches witty, but somehow it didn't seem to fit her well. others thought her name should be "lady" or "keeper" or "samantha joe", all of which are fine names, but again, don't really seem to fit her very well.

then i thought i would change her name to "woman". which could be funny (rather than teaching her to roll over, it would be: "woman, make me a sandwich"). but for some reason, i didn't like feeling like i was making fun of her every time i called her.

then it hit me.

her name shall be 'hollywood'.

and she'll learn to 'roll film'.

its perfect.

I've been tagged. (by thain)

The Rules    

The 1st player of this "game" starts with the topic "5 weird habits of yourself" and people who get tagged need to write a xanga entry about their own 5 weird habits and state this rule clearly.  In the end, you need to choose the next 5 people to be "tagged" and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says, "you are tagged" in their xanga and tell them to read yours.

1. i yell "BOX" whenever i'm out west and i see one of those roadside 'call boxes'
2. i jump in puddles when i'm wearing sandals.
3. i practically never step on lines...in parking lots, tiled floors, carpet pieces, whatever...i therefore hate small tiles.
4. i never completely finish these kind of things
5.

I tag....... jirah, amy , brad, tyson, and tyler.

there are a few types of people in this world that drive me crazy:

hypocrites,
liars,
and those people that hate you for having a girlfriend.

fortunately, most people aren't always these things.

and also: i have no reflexes anymore. i just get hit and don't care.

and: i really really like life. this has been, and is, the best
semester of my life.

you can't bring me down.

--ps: ILOVEBRANDONEMERSON!!!

the main characters of harry potter, schindler's list, and life is beautiful all have one thing in common.

 

they have purpose.

 

do you even know how great a treasure that is? have you asked yourself at all lately, "what's the point?"

 

i shall finish school, so i can make money, so i can spend it, and then die.

perhaps, if i am lucky, i will find a spouse and a church along the way.

this is the grand total of pretty much everybody's life.

 

this is also why these films and books sell so well. they've got what we so glaringly lack.

 

maybe entertainment isn't always about "escape from real life." maybe, just sometimes, entertainment portrays a life more real than most of us accomplish in our dreams.

maybe we've got everything all backwards. but that's a side note, and it's free.

 

"it is God who gives us purpose." right? is it not from the great storehouses of God's infinite grace and love that we draw a meaning and purpose from life?

maybe. but if God gives us the purpose, where is it?

"He will reveal it in due time."

when? what if He doesn't?

"then His purpose for our lives is not for us to know."

then this is all a matter of hoping that He may or may not decide to reveal to us a purpose that we may or may not appreciate?

"no. it is a matter of trusting that His purposes are right and good, regardless of our knowledge or appreciation."

so that's it. He promises us at least an unknowable purpose, and at best an unchosen one?

"it is not for us to question His ways. besides, He has, for the most part, made His purposes clear."

oh, you mean to go into all the world, making disciples?

"it is exactly that. and to love God and love others."

very noble.

"thank you."

but don't you ever wonder if there's something else? i mean, what if you're no good at bringing people to repentance?

"it is not you, but---"

the Holy Spirit, yeah, i know, but...look. i've been a Christian for who knows how long and i still haven't been present at a single conversion. God has not used me once.

"perhaps that is not what you are intended to achieve."

but you JUST said that that WAS His purpose exactly!!!!

"some are to plant, some are to water, some are to harvest..."

so i'm a planter.

"perhaps."

great.

"what exactly is your problem?"

it's hard to define, i suppose. i guess i wish i had a purpose that had visible results. otherwise, i feel like i'm spinning my wheels.

"i see."

and i just thought of something: if my purpose is unknowable, which you admit is possible, and i'm not to see any results from it, then how am i to know that i am doing it right?

"you'll just have to trust."

but what if i'm doing it wrong?

"you can't mess up God's purposes."

then what exactly is the POINT of having me do them? i don't get it!!

"you can't mess Him up, but you can choose not to participate."

how do i know if i'm participating if i don't know if i'm doing it right?!?

"i---um--you have to trust."

trust WHAT?!

"that you're doing it....er....that God is doing it right, through you."

that...that doesn't even make sense. all i want is a purpose. something to aim for.

"try being humble."

what?

"you're proud. admit it."

well, now, if i was proud i guess i wouldn't, would i?

"exactly."

ok, yes. i'm proud. i don't see what this has to do with anything.

"perhaps God doesn't want you to see your purpose just yet because your head would swell."

i'm sure. but aren't you just feeding my pride?

"hm?"

i mean, you tell me that God isn't telling me my purpose because it is so magnificient that it would cause me to sin unnecessarily? isn't that sort of self-defeating?

"good point. i suppose its possible that your purpose would be taken as mundane in your prideful eyes."

i suppose that may be true. but then, why hide it? why not let me in on my purpose and break me of my foolish habit?

"but He has already, don't you see?"

what?

"love God and love others. that's your purpose."

that doesn't sound like enough.

"cause you're proud. you're not harry potter, you know. or guido or schindler, or any other man of great purpose."

yeah. it is true that i'm overdramatic. i want to be noble.

"so much so that you flee greatness."

what?!

"greatness is not achieved by doing it all, or by doing it best. it is achieved by doing it for the right reasons."

so my purpose is...
"to love God and love others."

and beyond that...

"anything you want."

that's it.

"that's it."

still sounds too simple.

"God's true mystery is not in His complexity, dearest."

 

and so it goes. somehow i doubt this argument will end anytime soon.

Whats the purpose? It feels worthless
So unwanted like I've lost all my value
I can't find it, not in the least bit
and I'm just scared, so scared that I'll fail you

I notice, I know this
Week is a symbol of how I use my time
Resent it, I spent it
Convincing myself the world's doing just fine
Without me
Doing anything of any consequence
Without me
Showing any sign of ever making sense
Of my time , it's my life
And my right, to use it like I should
Like he would, for the good
Of everything that I would ever know

And sometimes I think that I'm not any good at all
And sometimes I wonder why, why I'm even here at all
But then you assure me

I'm a little more than useless
And when I think that I can't do this
You promise me that I'll get through this
And do something right

do something right for once

--relient k

who cares if you're a jack of all trades? i'd rather be a master of one.

whats the point of being "generally competent"?

you can handle anything that comes your way, but you have a hard time
being more than half-hearted.

you get good grades, but its because you remember things, not because
you're truly intelligent.

you're not *excellent* at anything--merely competent at lots of things.

and you realize your limits are so very self-imposed. the extent of
your utter laziness gnaws at the back of your mind.

you want so much more from yourself.

"don't be a perfectionist".

don't worry. i'm not.

but sometimes i feel like a waste of talent.

T R 8:00-9:15       Comm Training and Development (aBlair)

T R 10:50-12:05   Comm Law (cBlair)

T R 12:15-1:30     Data Comm/Networking (Welms)

R    6:00-8:45pm  Practical Public Relations (aBlair)

 

that's right, kids:

 

no classes on friday for the third semester in a row.

no classes on monday or wednesday, either.

pretty exciting.

 

except for the fact that these are the four hardest classes in the commArts department.

 

and: that's an awful lot of Blair, folks.

its like that moment at the top of the first hill of your first roller-coaster, just before your stomach becomes weightless as the car drops down the slope, when you're looking out over the tops of so many trees and your mom is sitting beside you screaming her head off and laughing because she knows what she's doing to your poor little stomach and she knows you're going to end up loving it and all you can do is hold on because "mom, please quit" isn't going to work and you just wish the ride was over but you can't wait to see how it all goes down and then----------.

 

lean not on your own understanding...

political science annotated bibliography - 7 hours

two chapel credits - 2.5 hours

promo dvd for work - 11 hours

computer science homework - 2 hours

political science paper - 3 hours

database homework - 2 hours

total amount of sleep - 0 hours

 

getting to go to houston on my very own personal fall break with the lovely and wonderful amy cheek...

priceless.

and its just been one of those days,
been one of those days,
every glass half full,
every drop lemonade.
just been one of those days,
one of those days,
all my worries to bed,
my faith wide awake.
hey, hey, hey,
just been one of those da - ay - ee - ay - ay - ays
just been one of those--
day - hey - heys,
thank You.

--shaun groves

[and while we're in the quoting mood, here's a cool thing someone
wrote to me recently:
"though they may justly accuse us of a multitude of sins, though they
may drag us through the mire of disrepute, or perhaps exalt us with
the praise of saints, let us not allow this: that they call us
complacent." good ol' walker pfost.]

for the next 6 days, just to try it out.

breakfast = 1 banana. 1 glass of milk.
elevensies = 1 apple. 100% fruit juice.
lunch = 1 maruchan instant noodle cup. water.
snack = 1 handful of carrots + 1 handful of broccoli. 100% fruit juice.
dinner = 1 pear. 100% fruit juice or water.
supper = whatever i freeking want. probably pasta.

and, by the way, it's been 16 days without any soda or caffeine of any kind.

here's to the end of the semester!

the only thing i can guarantee, between the two of us, is this:

i will hurt you.

that's it. relationships, romantic or otherwise, are represented by
the exact same mathmatical formula. it looks like this:

1 fallen person + 1 fallen person = 2 fallen people

we don't improve ourselves in pairs or in groups. we are,
unfortunately and irrevocably, imperfect. thats the odd irony of the
aforementioned guarantee. guarantees assume perfection. to "guarantee"
something is to essentially bet that it will work perfectly, at least
for a certain amount of time.

strange, then, that the one guarantee about relationships is that they
won't work perfectly at all. we will all, at one time or another, act
perfectly wrong.

a corollary of this argument is as follows: love is a choice. if you
base your ability to love someone on their ability to please you or
perform their "relational duties" correctly, you're setting yourself
up for disappointment. there is only one personal being in the entire
universe that is worthy to be loved for His relational perfection. He
is worth being loved for who He is. you know what He is?

He is guaranteed.

so stop trying to find it somewhere else. you won't find it in a
pastor, or a teacher, or a discipler, or a leader, or a friend, or a
date, or a spouse, or a drinking buddy, or anything that involves
another person. pastors fall and teachers lie and disciplers mislead
and leaders crumble and friends betray and dates break up and spouses
hate and drinking buddies...well, drink.

your only hope for something sure is That which does not change.

so act like it.

recently a friend of mine told me i should no longer be friends with girls.

like, at all.

funny thing was...the friend is a girl.

hmm...

and i've learned a few things:
--it's really hard to be a good friend.
--i hate drama.
--drama loves me.
--people will almost always surprise you.
--always wear comfortable shoes.
--it's a lot easier to start exercising when its cold outside.
--God still loves me.
--google maps get you lost.
--getting lost can still make for a crazy-awesome date.

i think i've laughed more in the past two days than i have in many months. thank you for that.

once there was a little dog

they simply called her 'girl,'

she was a very special dog,

the cutest in the world.

 

there was a little boy named nic

who loved this 'girl' so much

he fed her, stroked her, made her glad

by his loving touch

 

but forces beyond his control

when asked if girl might share his home

ripped the poor boy's heart to shreds

when they coolly answered, "no."

 

[i think i'll go cry now.]

 

[anybody want a dog? she's only the best, cutest, most wonderful, loving, marvelous dog in the whole wide world. as long as i get to visit.]

goals:

 

finish two movies in three weeks.

sell a full page ad to verizon in student newspaper.

start selling "facebook" t-shirts.

keep a dog.

have 'party of the century'.

FINISH SCRIPT!!! (religion, sex, and politics).

tell my parents i love them (20th anniversary tommorrow!).

compete for shoutfest.

save more money.

make CD.

try not to die too soon.

study the Bible of my own volition.

out with the old, in with the new.

 

isn't it time i started being optimistic again?

sometimes you have to give up the good to receive the best.

sometimes the only way to keep something is to give it away.

sometimes, believe it or not, a little self-sacrifice actually works
in your favor.

and it's better to realize this in advance.

Take My Life and Let Me Be

[an american-truth version]

 

Take my tithe and let it be

satisfact'ry, Lord, to Thee.

Take my cash and let it prove

that I'm filled with naught but love;

that I'm filled with naught but love.

 

Take two hours and let them be

swift and beautiful for Thee

Take my voice and let me sing

Gorgeous, pretty, full and deep;

Gorgeous, pretty, full and deep.

 

If you'd make me rich with gold,

not a mite would I withhold.

Take my moments and my plans,

bless them, make them work as planned;

bless them, make them work as planned.

 

Take my Will and make it Thine,

You'll never have it otherwise.

Take my heart and forcefully,

'cause I'll ne'er give it willingly;

'cause I'll ne'er give it willingly.

When I was about 7 years old, tramping to school in the calm grey
weather of Denver, Colorado, college was an eternity away. In fact,
there was this 12-year-old kid at the end of the street—well, I call
him "kid" now; at the time, he seemed as grown up and free as I would
ever be. His name was Kevin, and he made me certain I wanted to be 12
when I grew up.
When I finally made it to my twelfth birthday, I thought of it as my
last year of childhood. The teenage years were upon me.
At thirteen, I couldn't wait to drive.
Sixteen rolled around, and suddenly those eighteen-year-old guys with
thick facial hair and girlfriends seemed the most serious and
authoritative people in the world.
Eighteen, and for a brief moment I thought I had arrived—I was
enrolled in the draft. The moment passed when Gillette sent me a razor
for my eighteenth birthday and I still had no facial reason to even
open the package.
That awkward, in-between twentieth year—not yet full-fledged adult and
yet no longer teenager—flew by in seconds.
Saturday, now at age 21, I attended the wedding of my close friend Ben
Williams, who is 27, and marveled at how young I still feel.
Twenty-one, a senior in college, working two jobs and living in a
house, you'd think I'd be past looking ahead all the time.
But I still catch myself looking at the Ben Williamses in my life and
thinking, "Someday, I'll grow up. Someday, I'll be complete."
It seems the habits of seven-year-olds die hard. I'm still finding
twelve-year-old Kevins to aspire toward.
I don't think I can argue that looking ahead in life is wrong, per se,
but I will attempt to convince you that it's a big waste of time.
The first fallacy here is assuming that it is even possible to
"arrive" in life. It's a nice thought, but a few conversations with
even your oldest acquaintances will clarify the unfounded nature of
such a concept. It simply never happens, at least not in this life.
Another problem with this kind of thinking is that it causes us to
always be comparing ourselves with others. We find the Bens and Kevins
in our life and cling to the idea that if we just had what they had
(age, job, wife, whatever), we'd be complete.
This is a dangerous state of mind.
Always focusing on where we aren't keeps our attention from where we
are. You can't drive somewhere by focusing on the destination. You get
there by paying attention to the turns and street signs and road
rules.
Typically, the "Christian" remedy to our natural struggle with this
mindset is to remind ourselves that "we don't really arrive until we
get to heaven."
This is not, however, a true solution. It is merely a spiritualization
of the problem.
Thinking that heaven is the "arrival point" is a problem in two major ways.
First, it trivializes the journey, in the same way thinking that a
diploma is the only important thing at this point trivializes the many
things you will learn in college that will have nothing to do with
that little slip of paper. I fear that there are far too many of us
that would jump at the opportunity to take a pill and put the next few
years in fast forward, if it were possible.
Second, the "heaven-is-the-end" mindset trivializes heaven itself. I
hate to break it to you here, but there is no indication that you will
be perfect when you get to heaven. You will not "have arrived" when
you cross through those pearly gates.
Sinless, yes. Painless, sure. But omniscient? Omnipresent? Omnipotent?
No, nope, and not a chance.
And at the very least, if you are not omniscient, it will mean that
you've still got something to learn. And if you've still got something
to learn, then you're not "arrived," yet.
I wonder if it will be possible to be jealous of people that have been
in heaven longer than us, getting a head start on whatever it is we'll
be trying to figure out up there.
If you ask me, it seems the best thing to do is realize that this
whole thing's just one big long journey. You won't "arrive" when you
graduate, or when you get married, or get a house, or a career, or
retire, or even when you die.
Instead, look at it this way: we're just hitchhiking through life, and
at some point in the next 60 years or so we'll find ourselves, not at
the end of our journey, but rather joined bodily by the One who put us
on the journey in the first place.
This is how, I think, He is able to be both the Beginning and the End.
Because there really aren't any Beginnings or Ends. Just Him.
So if you're like me, and you just can't wait for whatever's coming
next in life, remember this: that thing you've been waiting for, it's
called Today.

hehe... 

we played chubby bunny. i will never eat another tootsie roll. 

nick brown is a funny kid. 

hey! that's my hat... 

jes beat me at chubby bunny...that girl has some BIG cheeks... 

PDA!!!! 

ain't she just the cutest little thing?!? 

the brownies, sad to say, did not last through the night. 

i guess if they don't come bigger from texas...they come cuter. 

there were like...30 people there. 

Edward: this is an invitation from the queen, to the duchess, to play croquet.

 

Nigel: oh, i see. it's an invitation from the queen, to play croquet, to the duchess.

 

Edward: yes, you see, it's an invitation to the duchess, from the queen, to play croquet.

 

Nigel: oh, you mean an invitation to play croquet, to the duchess, from the queen.

 

Edward: well. i wouldn't 've put it quite like that, but...it'll have to do, i suppose.

 

Nigel: very well.

 

 

 

[ah, the joy of prepositional phrases]

i hate fluorescent lights.

not all lights are created equal.
when God said, "let there be light," He meant natural, warm, incandescent light.

fluorescents light the dark corners of hell.

a few weeks ago, i went to indiana for business.
we drove there. 14 hours.

the next week, i went to illinois, on business. i flew there.
the job involved driving a rental ALL OVER ILLINOIS. 40 or so hours.

the next weekend, i went to see brandon before he left for seminary.
jonesboro: little over 2 hours.

i also took a trip to kentucky to celebrate 4th of july with canadians.
ekron: 5 hours.

two weeks ago, i went to florida on business. i was supposed to fly,
but then they made me drive.
sarasota: 15 hours.

last week i went home.
it's a 10 hour drive.

on the way back from home, i had to bring a car to nashville from
jackson that day...complicated story, but the grand total for the
drive back from home was:
17 hours.

if you just take the times listed above...and you double the ones that
involved a return trip...

it's 139 hours.

in the car.

driving.

in the past...oh...6 weeks or so.

that's over 5 and a half DAYS. as in: 24 hour periods.
it's 17 work days.
3 and a half work weeks.
8,340 minutes.

perhaps this explains why last month's phone bill listed me at over
4300 minutes (72 hours).

i guess i was lonely.

i hate stagnation.

i hate treadmills. you run and run and run and run and the scenery never changes.

sometimes life feels like that. you know what i mean. you wake up one morning, look around, and it hits you. this scenery never changes. you've been doing the same old same old for who knows how many years running. and you're not satisfied with it.

the grass is always greener.

this is why, i believe, we idolize and sanitize the past. the past is always better to us now, because the past was different. rarely was it actually better.

this also explains why we are so anxious for the "next things" in life to happen. like right now, i'm ready for the summer to be over. it's a stupid thing to wish for, actually. i have zero effect on the speed with which the summer's end gets here, yet for some reason i feel it necessary to comment on how i am "ready for it to be over." it's senseless, really. why not just enjoy the summer?

not that i don't, mind you. i like a summer as much as the next guy. my point is, part of me wishes the summer was over and the semester was here, and when it is, that same part of me will wish the summer had never ended.

the grass is always greener before or after today.

but you know what? it isn't true. life is not a treadmill.

it's an ocean.

sure, you can run all day and the scenery will never change. and that's incredibly frustrating. but that's merely the psychological disadvantage to living in a ocean. it does not change the fact--the fact--that you did, indeed, travel.

all you lack is a point of reference. a buoy. land. something that is fixed, that can assure you that you are traveling in some direction.

whether or not it's the right direction is an entirely different conversation.

i'm beginning to realize, i think, that it's not so much a lack of buoys, it's that i don't pay attention to the ones i pass on a regular basis.

the grass is never green until you stop comparing it to another yard.

thanks, God, for buoys.

so i went to florida and stared at women in bikinis through a viewfinder all week.

and i sunburned.

 

then i came back to school and moved off campus.

and now i'm peeling.

 

tomorrow i go home to visit for a few days.

then, perhaps, i'll tan.

 

and somehow, through it all, God is very, very good.

i am no longer an RA.

 

time to get sloshed.

 

[oh, wait...]

i miss worldview.

i miss walker pfost.

i miss being skinny.

come crawlin' back

and beg for forgiveness

and don't get your hopes up

cause i'm puttin' my walls up

not takin' flack

i was miffed by your glibness

i was stringin' my ropes up

for this

 

and i

smiled one too many times

so i'm askin' please would you wash your feet?

and you

made up way too many rhymes

so i'm askin' please would you wash your feet?

 

keep stallin' fate

just count on your chances

by pushin' it harder

you just make it run farther

not second-rate

there just weren't enough dances

i thought you'd be smarter

than this

 

and i

smiled one too many times

so i'm askin' please would you wash your feet?

and you

made up way too many rhymes

so i'm askin' please would you wash your feet?

 

--------------------

in other news:

i got a new job.

i got in a wreck.

i canceled some addictions (cheers, blockbuster).

i'm trying not to waste my life (cheers, john piper).

i got some new discipline (woot, richard foster).

 

currently writing:

religion, sex, and politics

[the film you don't talk about]

i notice you.

 

i can't help it. you pass by--airport, museum, park, street, whatever--and my mind just...wonders. why here? why today? why now?

 

it's OK. you don't have to explain. there is that...unspoken understanding between us. so please, don't let me bother you. i was just noticing.

 

wait. one question. what exactly was going through your head when you got dressed this morning? [i do apologize for the unqualified assumption that you dress in the morning. though i don't retract the statement. unqualified assumptions are my right as an american.]

 

you. old man. with the bright yellow polo shirt and navy blue pajama pants. what precisely were you thinking?

 

"you look good, hector. real good."

 

whatever. it's guys like you that make fat, greasy, balding hispanics seem...well, fat, greasy, and balding. not to mention nasty--c'mon, at least button the polo.

 

and what about you, miss grey-sweatpants-and-a-camisole?

 

"with this outfit on boys can't help but stare at my stomach!"

 

maybe, but i'm not sure that was worth sacrificing the style points. like, i think you're negative now. sad thing is, your tummy might actually be pretty sexy looking. you just sorta...packaged it wrong.

 

"today, clifton, is your day."

 

maybe that did run through your head. but the horizontal stripes do nothing of value to your already grandiose figure. i think, clifton, you were lying to yourself.

 

yes, i am staring. yes, at you.

 

you, One-Glance. you seem pretty used to it. i guess girls of your...maturity level have to deal with staring a lot. but perhaps you found it a bit odd that i was staring at your eyes. is that why you looked away?

it's cause i'm a guy, isn't it? or maybe cause i'm white? maybe you've seen me before, too, and i burned you. maybe this is how you cope.

i wish could apologize. i would assure you that i haven't been myself. but you can't stop to listen. and i suppose i understand.

 

yes, Muscles. i'm looking at you, too. our eyes touched, didn't they? that was a little to intimate for a man like you, wasn't it? maybe that's why i'm repulsive to you. 'cause i'm real.

 

ah, No-Glance. hello again. you know i'm here. your peripheral vision alerts you to my uncomfortable presence, like an itch in the back that you can't seem to find. but you are a well-oiled machine. and goodness, you're the best-dressed in this whole airport. you are far above the petty distraction i provide.

 

and then there was you. Glance-and-Stare. i live for you. you're not just noticed, you notice right back. you...wonder. you, like me, want to know--my thoughts, my feelings, my life. why are you always so much younger than the rest?

"why is he sitting there, daddy?" you ask No-Glance. he lives up to his name, and yet still responds.

"i don't know, son."

"what is he writing?"

i don't get to hear daddy's answer. you keep walking. i can guess, though.

"nothing important."

 

maybe you're right, No-Glance. maybe this is an excercise in futility. maybe i don't deserve the Glance-and-Stares, like your son. but i guess you wouldn't really know, would you? you don't know me. your son does.

 

all i want--all i really want--is to be noticed.

ive got one chance

so why don't i make the most of it?

gravity is an experience

that no one can escape

i've just got one dance

so why do i miss the best of it?

gravity is draggin me

i'm fallin on my face

 

why do i kid myself

thinking i can fly

i'm still a kid, myself

dancing through the night

 

cause there's more to life than questions

my heart is filled with more than dreams

and it's not wrong not to know the answers

don't miss today for what could be

 

you were safe, once

so why did i make a mess of it?

sorry for all the gravitas

i needed to escape

this is nonsense

heart fluctuation, breath intake

but i can't seem to get my mind to change

and i'm sick of my mistakes

 

i'm not meant to control the outcome

i'm not expected to part the seas

just get in, sit tight, and hear the countdown

throw up trusting hands and fly free

 

i got a ticket today.

 

85 in a 70.

 

the cop was nice, knocked it down to a 74 in a 70.

 

this from the guy that rants at everybody that speeding is not loving jesus. i made my father look like a liar, because he had just got through bragging to somebody that he "doesn't have to worry about nic ever getting a ticket. he doesn't speed."

 

no dad, this is not God teaching you about bragging. this is about humility, and righteousness, and integrity, and my lack thereof.

 

when will i ever wake up?

 

someone save me from this body of death.

[please, if i aleady told you this story, tell noone the ending. i want honest reactions as this story unfolds. that's the only way to get good constructive criticism. besides, the story might have changed from what i told you.]

 

Big People

[a little fairy tale in several parts]

 

It was not a dark and stormy night.

There are many words one might use to describe it: how it was so dry the wind blew the chap off your lips; how the day had been so hot that it was still sweaty long after the sun went down, like an oven cooling from broil on a warm day. One might even be inclined to note how the dogs ambled around, mouths hanging open but no tongue sticking out, not because they weren't panting but because their lickers stuck to the roofs of their mouths.

But one would not call it dark and stormy.

One might, however,  call it restless. Perhaps it was a residual effect of the heat. Men often become lethargic during a hot day, which makes their wives quarrelsome at night, because nothing had been accomplished. Not that much was ever accomplished anyway. People in Benson, Arizona hardly accomplished anything at all. Their legislators and public relations committee knew them as "the gateway to Southeastern Arizona" and "an important transportation hub," but the actual citizens, who usually have a bit more common sense than their elected officials, knew it simply as "the town."

No, Benson was not really that much of a gateway, or a hub for that matter. Truckers stopped in on occasion, but for the most part people drove right on through to Sierra Vista without stopping. The inhabitants of Benson took this as a sign, and thereby refused to fraternize with the outside world. Oh, sure, the young ones got antsy and as soon as they could drive they'd make their way up to Tucson, visit the M.O.C.A. or the independent film theater, putter around a bit, realize that city life just wasn't their cup of tea, and return home just after curfew in a funk, grumbling that they should have seen the Biosphere 2 or run away to Flagstaff: "Then we wouldn't have come back at all," they would insist. But their listless attitude would dissipate and be forgotten by the start of school in the fall.

But tonight, everyone was restless. Maybe it was the heat. But more likely, it was the hills. Nearly every backyard and picture window in Benson had a stunning perspective of some very strange, very grey, mountains. The hills used to be green, but the townsfolk, for reasons they'd rather not talk about with strangers, had cut down most of the trees, so that the only part of the Great Woods beyond the hills that still spilled over into the valley that cradled Benson was beyond the northeast corner of town, in the foothills of Casandres. Not that anybody minded those trees. Noone in their right mind ever walked those hills anyway.

Dakota Clayton's mother was not in her right mind.

"Just a picnic," she had said. "A dinner picnic."

Dakota slammed her face down into her pillow once again. Noone has dinner picnics, she thought to herself angrily. Why did I–why couldn't she have asked for something normal, like pizza and a movie? Why didn't I warn her?

It's not that her mother didn't know that the woods were dangerous. Her mother knew better than most. Teri Clayton had been attacked in those woods before, miraculously escaping the clutches of a rabid dog, only to be hospitalized for a week. And her job–Teri was a lobbyist with a PAC organized to help pass legislation aimed at protecting the Saguaro Woods from further damages. Surely the Citizens for Saguaro Immunity (CSI was a favorite show of Teri's) understood the dangers of the woods they purported to protect.

So why had Teri Clayton insisted that her daughter come with her to hike the foothills in the Northeast for a "dinner picnic?" This was the question, the one raging through Dakota's mind, curling her stubby fingers, flaring her parched nostrils, beating behind her yet unblossomed chest.

It was almost as if Teri Clayton had wanted her daughter to watch her die.

my dandelion

 

nothing changes,

change comes slow,

slowly breathing

while grim men grow.

 

growing slowly,

slowly, grimly,

nothing needs.

 

so drowns foreign

in death and weeds.

ok. i give in.

 

i've gone nocturnal. re-read the last post, and i think it will make more sense now.

 

i go to bed around 9am, and get up around 4 or 5pm. it's great, because i can still work at my jobs this way, i still get to hang out with people, and i am getting a whole lot more of my goals accomplished.

 

also, it's great to pull an all-nighter through the middle of the day.

the brilliant people think best in the morning. or so they say.

 

and the best times with God are definitely the ones spent at dawn. or so they say.

 

my chances at genius and spirituality, then, are thwarted only by a utter and complete resistance to getting out of bed before 10. sometimes later. no amount of cajoling, caffeine, or clock-setting can seem to break this practice. i am doomed to being a morning person--granting that it is a late morning.

 

but---epiphany! i have found an ingenious way to avoid the hassle of getting out of bed in the morning! i can now tackle mornings with pride, honor, and mental clarity! i am imbued with a renewed vigor and lust for life!

 

how do i do it, you may ask? what is the awesome secret that i have discovered, one that will propel me from my humble and dreary environment into one of fame and fortune and beautiful women? i will tell you.

 

be warned, it is not for everyone. not all fame-thirsty peons will be able to grasp or implement the harrowing demands that my discovery will place on them. my path is not for the weak of heart. it is not for the financially centered. it is not for those pitiable fools on the wide road of safety and comfort and basic 9 to 5 jobs. nay, friends, mine is for the adventurer! the noble! the naive--i mean, the idealist!

 

want to know my secret? of course you do, but all in due time.

 

my path overflows with benefits. normal, everyday benefits, such as:

rewarding work environment

fun people

little overhead

 

as well as some side benefits enjoyed only by those who comply:

more efficient time management

more productive work hours

less distractions

fewer interpersonal hassles

more time for friends and loved ones

more satisfaction and enjoyment of life

 

this secret path is so marvelous, we guarantee you'll love it! if you don't, just return to your normal, pathetic existence, and we'll refund you, no questions asked, the entire purchase price. we promise to not even make fun of you for doing so.

 

if you are interested in making your life actually enjoyable again, and want to have more time for loved ones and friends, and want to do those things you always dreamed of doing, then send your check or money order for 19.95* today!

 

this is a chance of a lifetime! a chance to finally do what your friends have been asking you to do for years--get a life!

 

*first of three installments. terms and conditions do apply. guarantee does not apply to residents of cuba, or anyone related to one. background check is necessary in some states. write for details.

really, i have no idea why i'm here.

 

for the summer, that is.

 

by all accounts, i should be at worldview. but i'm not.

 

by other accounts, i should have four jobs and be making a ton of money. but i don't, and i'm not.

 

so i suppose, perhaps, my mentor is right. perhaps i'm supposed to just take stock. revel in my extra time. rediscover my relationship with Jesus. do those things that i love doing, and praise God for them.

 

sometimes its tough not having anything to do.

 

but right now, for what its worth, i wouldn't trade it for the world.

i'd forgotten how much i enjoy writing.

 

and halo.

 

not to mention josh wilkinson.

 

woot.

xanga blues

why does xanga suck so much?