Blogzkrieg

Summatime...

2006-06-21T22:02:00.000-07:00

So........I love summer. And as the White Witch of Topeka, I have declared that it will always be summer, but never rain....on a day when I have a softball game. That's not too much to ask, is it? Also - I have decided that one of the bext experiences in life - and one that I think every person should have before they die (seriously) is the experience of driving cross-country in the summer, all alone in a car, during sunset, with all of the windows down and at least one of your feet out the window. There's simply nothing like it. Makes the head clear, the heart full, and the hair look CRAZY when you're done. Awesome.

Some things I learned from this week's wedding:
(1) Don't have a wedding downtown....at least in a big downtown like Chicago. The coolness is not worth the hassle.
(2) Do have your wedding in a gigantic, gorgeous church like Moody Church. It makes everything look beautiful.
(3) If you're going ot read Scripture for the wedding - don't be an idiot and leave all your notes in the Bible you take up there. If you do, your friend who is also reading Scripture might spill it all over the floor in the ceremony, and then you look like an idiot cleaning it all up.
(4) Weddings really are the best event ever in life. Especially when its one after college, and all of your college friends are, for once, all back together under the same roof. This is living.

And this is something I wrote while driving home. I figured I'd put it at the end so Nelson and Laura would be able to skip it easier.

These sunset clouds line my way,
Sparkling in my eyes like yours
And these softly rolling hills
Bow in unison towards my manifest destiny

And the memories they sweep
Like the breeze upon my feet
And they sing me to your street

As I pass, the pine trees point,
Bending at their joints -
Waves of green lifting me back home

And as gold light breaks through
In hallelujah streams,
I drive out this fantasy
Driven only in my dreams.

These signs all have the same
Simple spelling of your name
As they run along beside to cheer me on.

Every hole in the heavens
Bursts forth with golden stakes of light –
Angels leading me again to you

And as fields of grain wave
Gracefully throwing forth their heads –
I feel like all creation is guiding me home to you.

Even the stars join the scene
Showing forth with strategic sheen –
Each one brighter up ahead
Than in the rear view.

‘Cross crawling land and sprawling sea,
Through bending heads and guiding trees
From suns’ last rays and star-lit dome,
The world’s great beauty points me home.

This one's for Laura....

2006-06-01T15:22:00.000-07:00

So...after Donnelly threatened my life on the phone today, I've decided to update this. Maybe for the last time...maybe I'll get back into this - who knows. But hey - I'm sure there's only one or two of you ever coming here anymore, so it won't matter either way. Here's something random for you, hope you like it Laura - just pretend these words are sung to a crappy country music background, and it will make it ten times better for you:

If knowledge is power,
then you are this relationship's despot
You have held absolute power
over me for far too long

As your unwitting serf
I go about doing your bidding
not realizing that you own this land
and you own me.

Your power unknown,
I serve with joy
I bow disgustingly,
and praise unceasingly.

And randomly in my praise,
you get bored
and whisper cruel words
and break my heart like a twig

Sick pleasure on your face
as I weep beneath the news
your smile never broken
you reveal your other suitors

My spirit broken,
my heart stripped bare,
I bow beneath your betrayal
and crumple at your feet.

And what is this?
Your hand on mine!
You lift me up
and wipe my tears

Your smile so specious,
I practice selective amnesia
I let you patch me up
with words as trite as you

Like wormtongue you weave
a web of wooing words,
lies covered in honey,
so sweet to my ego

You build back what you tore down
your whispering never ceases
you hold my head to your bosom
as you inject the poison into my skull

I creep back up again,
and bustle to do your will -
your smile ever-present
your laugh a cascade of deception

A one-time thing,
I say to myself
to gauze the bleeding heart -
A conscious self-deception
My mental tourniquet.

The Postmodern Hand-Raiser

2006-01-29T13:40:00.000-08:00

(an attempt to divert attention away from BNels-bashing...)

I know who you are already
I don’t even need to know your name
In fact, I don’t want to.
You are that guy.
You’re the one everyone else has to work around
The one we can’t bear to see raise his hand.

You’re here just to make sure no progress is ever made
You save us from the pitfalls of fruitful discussion and careful introspection
You with your cutting critiques, postmodern smugness and love of being the one.
You think you’re the only intelligent one – and that’s the worst part
The rest of us are sitting here trying to take stabs at the truth
We yearn to understand, we make ourselves vulnerable by revealing our minds
And you LOVE to stomp on our vulnerability.
Cloaking our intelligence with your arrogance.

Fool – how easy it is to tear down!
Do you think you are creative for finding flaws?
Brilliant for dissecting and discounting everything that comes your way?
But I tell you, you are useless.
You do not even take the meaningful from the mistaken,
Nor glean the helpful from the failed effort.
No – instead you make a garden of ideas into a stomping grounds.
You single-handedly squash years of growth and
Do no work to replant seeds.
You tear down without plans to build up.
And you take a sick pride in it all.

Fool – do you not think we know that these ideas are not fool-proof?
Ah – but we allow our hearts to be touched –
We allow genuine doubt to enter into our minds
Because we allow for the possibility of genuine truth.
Your way is the easy way – you can discount everything,
But when’s the last time you posited something positive?
Fool. Anyone can tear down. It takes a genius to invent.
Every man is a critic, but only one in a million is a creator.

Postmodernism is destruction. It begins with doubt, relies on accusation,
Tears down based on acceptable weakness, and ends in destruction.
We know that our beliefs can be abused. We know that language is a power that can be warded over the weak. But does that mean that our beliefs and our language must be crucified? No, the abuse does not nullify the proper use – to quote professor Jerry Root. What good is a world in which no common truth applies? Who are you wasting your life talking to? Who are you wasting your life loving? Another individual who can not even understand the things you are saying because their perception of language is different from yours in some miniscule way? An individual who is loving you because they feel power in helping the weak? Is there no truth? Is there no true love?

No, put your hand down, you depressing, repressive moron. Put your hand down and allow a world of hope and promise to steamroll over your land-mines of doubt. Live a life of risk, and of trust – not of Cartesian questioning. Take things for granted – learn to believe in things outside of yourself. Expand your mind by creating – do not contract ours through destruction. Postmodernism may make for an interesting discussion in the philosophy classroom – but you had best leave it there. It doesn’t belong here. Put your hand down.

Why Emo Exists

2006-01-22T01:01:00.000-08:00

(Disclaimer: don't believe everything you read)

So much rain….
Its as if God is crying for us
Two men too proud to shed their own tears
Sit in solidarity and share
Knowing glances through spirals of smoke
So much rain
God must really know.
He knows
He too was betrayed
He too was left by one who was closest
His most dearly beloved turned His back on Him
And he too cried out in agony,
Betrayed to die by a kiss.

But I am not that strong
I am weak and death does not become me.
So weak that I lean on this cigar
And on this alcohol
And pray that the next drink will wipe you from my heart
But it never does.
I dream of being able to take this burning cigar
And burn you out of my mind
But even the smoke forms your face as it rides the wind.

And all I have is my partner in crime.
Those two knowing eyes,
That fellow bleeding heart,
Betrayed by a kiss,
And crying out in agony.
Pain not aided by your uncouth ease in betrayal
Tears stopped short with anger
At the sight of your heartless joy
Over your latest kill.

I wish you would finish me
Finish the job –
Skin me, flay me, devour me
Take what’s left.
Grope inside my ribs for what little heart I have left
And cut its beat short
And ripping it out,
Rejoice in that weak and calloused blood that you can yet squeeze from it.

You have left me as a hollow corpse
My steps the stiffness of rigor mortis,
The color of death on my face
And the look of one dead in my eyes.
This bottle is all that I have now
I was ready to give you my life
But you took it from me
And left me standing here
In the rain
With God crying for me,
My knowing eyes,
My bottle,
And this dang smoke that reminds me of the void I’m trying so hard to fill.

Trite Expressions

2005-11-28T22:07:00.000-08:00

A perfect setting
with a perfect snowfall
a perfect fire
a perfect night

A perfect search
for the perfect love
found imperfection
in its perfect plan
and 2 imperfect people
with imperfect hearts
fell short of perfection again

and as perfect tears fell
on perfectly-placed shoulders
my perfect wish
was only your imperfection.

Blog Resurrection

2005-11-21T11:25:00.000-08:00

I'm baaaaack....at least....for a while. I have renewed motivation for blogging - maybe because in my break from it I have stored up those two or three things that have been building up in my soul, waiting for release. And so...I have at least three posts in me...three emotional releases....three ways of letting some of you know what's going on in this guy's life. (Three's just a random guess, by the way.)

First - it's good to be back home. Good to see a lot of you on Sunday at church and the turkey feast. And I hope to see a LOT more of you (both more people and more of the people that i've already seen...) this week. And we can all get together and argue about whether or not HP sucked like some people think. I personally could watch that movie another 15 times, but agree largely with Paul's review (see blog link for PCarr...). Tough call, tough call. However, one thing is absolutely indisputable about the new movie - and possibly one thing only. I'm just gonna throw it out there, and if you don't like it, feel free to throw it right on back: Emma Watson is drop-dead gorgeous. That's right, I said it. And yes, that's also right - its illegal.

Well - now on to the deeper things of life. I write again because....I got blindsided again. Yay!!! This, however, is not a blindside that could cause much controversy - it was not a character attack, it was not a blindside with the intent of sharpening character - the blindside wasn't even specifically about me - but it sure did affect me. Oh boy. It was another one of those moments where, at the time of revelation, all else fades from your mind. You are left, mouth gaping, eyes glazing over, simultaneously present in and absent from reality. We've all had these moments - moments of up-ending epiphany that shake our foundation. My most recent one was last week. And this is something I wrote about it - you must forgive the unprofessionalism of the poetry, it was written while still in an intellectual stupor:

Knees buckled in this wayside grass;
insides aching, heart quickly sinking -
body doubled in pain.

Soaked in a feverish sweat,
a convulsing objection
to ancient Greece.

I can only pray that this next eruption
of vomit will purge my soul
of all that remains of you.

With every perfect kiss,
I tasted a little more
and taste by taste,
my body soaked you in.

With every love-drenched stare
into your perfect eyes
your beauty was etched
in deeper lines upon my mind

And every breath of your perfect stench
now festers in my lungs -
set aflame by a torch of betrayal
carried in your willing hands

With every word and perfect smile
you were knit piece by piece into my heart,
A beating tapestry of we
now gaping, holy, gross tattered flesh

And all these thoughts and perfect dreams
about how life would be
are ripping apart inside my head
screaming to fly from their cage

And so, your slave, I've bowed my head
and knelt in this pool of stench -

Praying that you'll let me know,
Praying for new breath.
Praying for an end to this,
To clear these lungs of death

To rid my soul of thoughts of you,
I'll flush my flesh of us,
I'll un-digest my love for you,
And puke away the fuss.

I'll kill this grass
like you killed me -
a poison, killing quick.
Ingested slow and willingly,
then turning its fatal trick.

You soaked my heart in kerosene,
my lips and eyes filled too,
my mind and lungs were overflowed
with dreams and scents of you.

And mastermind or moron, you,
A fire your lips did light
You set my body and soul ablaze,
And cured me of delight.

And so this pile of ash is left;
a monument to you
the burner of the souls of men,
and killer of my soul.

(Sorry Ben - the poetry is back too....)

Seminary Jargon...

2005-10-19T17:59:00.000-07:00

Well, I figured I'd share this with you - because it was a fun thing for me to experience. (The length of this will make up for me not posting in a while, right?) :)

Tuesday, in my Angelology, Anthropology, and Sin class (why isn't it Hamartiology? - don't ask me, I guess DTS enjoys mixed titles. Weirdos.) we were discussing the origin of the soul. Yay! I don't know if the rest of you know all about this - but there are three main views. The first - pre-existence, is not even worth discussing as useless and un-scriptural as it is. The second is called Creationism, in which God creates each individual soul and implants it within the human being at an unspecified time in the birth process (all of these views have clear ramifications in the abortion debate, of course....). The third is called Traducianism, in which the soul is imparted to the human through the procreation of the parents - a sort of natural generation. Interesting stuff.

Anyways, that by itself is only mildly interesting. However, it answered two fundamental questions that have always troubled me - (1) where original sin comes from and (2) what the heck is up with generational sin?

I have always kind've thought in my mind that there should be nothing inherently sinful about the creation of a human being. Both the body and the soul are created by God (indirectly, at least) and were declared good. Therefore, how are we supposed to understand original sin? Where did it come from? Creationism tends to say that God creates a good soul (of course, He only creates that which is good) and then evil results from the union with the body. However - this seems WAY too gnostic for me. What about that human fetus/child is inherently bad? Doesn't seem like anything to me.

However - the traducianist view says that the human soul is somehow mystically created in the process of procreation. It is much tougher to explain by science, but explains the scriptures and biblical theology much better. It has the same mystical appearance that consciousness has in the human being - confounding metaphysicians for years. How does this immaterial stuff rise from what is mere material? Dunno - but it sure is easier to say that the human has original sin because the soul that is imparted to them at conception is a sinful soul. So when it is said that whole human race was seminally in Adam when Adam sinned at the fall - it makes perfect sense. All human souls were derived in some fashion from the "created" souls of Adam and Eve - both sinful souls. Therefore, everyone is born with a sinful soul.

Even more interesting to me is how this Traducianist view fits in with the concept of generational sin. God often speaks in the Bible about judging future generations for the parents' sin. Being the American I am, I did not think this fair. Why should the children suffer for the individual sin of the parent? I like the way traducianism accounts for this. If the soul is somehow imparted from the parents, that new soul has the natural bent that the parents' souls had. If the fathers' soul is addicted to alcohol, does it not make sense that the soul that is imparted to his son from him has a natural inclination to alcoholism? I like the fact that this both makes sense of current psychology and helps me to make better sense of the idea of God's justice. That He is not judging the future generations based merely on the sin of their fathers, but rather on their sin, which they are naturally inclined to do because of the natural bent of their souls. I hope you found that interesting - I sure did.

Anyways - sorry again that I haven't updated in a while - I'm a slacker. A ton has been going on in this guy's life - hopefully I will be able to talk about it soon enough. I have finally been getting stuff back from school, and the grades are reassuring. People down here are sweeeeet - I hope I am able to introduce some of you eventually. Life is good - crazy, but good.

And now....(why not?) I'm gonna hit up the poetry once again....(yay! - Ben, I don't care....) I wrote this one in the aforementioned class while contemplating the origin of Satan...

The Mystery of Satan

A travel through the long, dark night,
A fall into the vast unknown.
Beyond the borders of human sight
This Lucifer will make his home.

An evil cloaked in beauty rare
Inside this king of angels did(st) rise.
The night seeped in to light most fair -
The black that caused the Great Demise.

For ne’er has so much been lost
Among the lives and dealings of men,
Glory, divinity, eternity the cost
Of that mightiest of angels’ primal sin.

No hint have we that try to know,
The origin of this darkest dusk -
How one so close to eternal glow
Could betray that divine trust.

From whence came this night
Into a perfect world?
What room is there in light
For darkness to unfurl?

Is this the End?

2005-10-10T22:09:00.000-07:00

Favorite song(s) right now: "Fix You" by Coldplay, "What Sarah Said" by Death Cab

I think I have lost my passion for blogging. I'm calling it a "nelson-esque" experience. I am losing a ton of motivation for posting, other than to get the same darn post off of my site because its annoying to look at.

Life here is good, however. I'm learning and exploring and loving music more and more all the time. More Copeland, more Coldplay, lots more Death Cab - I love it all. I'm still playing some volleyball, although our last couple of attempts have been thwarted by the hugeness of the OU-UT matchup on Saturday and the cold. (What? Texas? Cold?) I'm writing a lot of papers and reading a lot of books. I'm spending much time in study, but I'm still managing to get out just about every night and do something fun. Tonight I took some coffee to some new friends and watched MNF - GO STEELERS!! I love the Steelers - I don't know when this began, sometime last season I think when I was all wrapped up in Big Ben's success - but they have definitely replaced the Cowboys as my second favorite NFL team. Blasphemy, I know. It doesn't hurt that I have their guys all over my fantasy teams. But seriously - I would like them anyway. Except for Polamalamalamalu or whatever - his hair and his 'tude can go.

Hm...not much else. Still excited to come home in a month or so. It was good to see Katy C. up here this weekend and hang with her. Mark, you're a stud. I lead a funny life. That is all I have to say.

Random Picture Day!!!

2005-10-03T14:49:00.000-07:00

I just got a bunch of pics from my roommate's wedding this summer - and I thought some were too cool not to post. For those of you who didn't know my roommates, the hot one on the left is a Marine (Jon), the hot one on the other side of me is the groom (Scottie 2 Hottie) and the cute Asian on the far right is Enoch.
This wedding was sooo much fun because it was outside in a beautiful setting, on a beautiful day, with beautiful people getting married. It doesn't get much better than that (except for Hassler's reception...). Plus, the photographer that took all of these pics was a young guy, really neat and creative - the best wedding photographer of any wedding I've been in.
I love these Reservoir Dogs poses - just fun to do. Even more cool-looking when everyone's in tuxes. We had matching umbrellas because....it rained!! Yeah - it was great fun - an outdoor wedding, and rain on the parade. It drizzled off and on all day...until the bride was being walked up to the altar. That's when it rained hardest. :) Go figure. During the ceremony, though, it calmed down and was soooo gorgeous.

We will kill you all.

Can someone tell me why I'm smiling??? Oh well - at least Scott is quasi-grinning, that makes it look slightly more normal.

Just for good measure.

Loneliness Needs No Advertisement

2005-09-25T20:02:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged in....a long time. This is because I feel that I have nothing significant enough to post about, no life-shattering experiences, no emotional roller-coaster rides, no friends to attempt to help. And so I figured - why write when you have nothing of interest to write about?

But I decided to blog today...and nothing has changed. I just got tired of seeing that same title at the top of my dumb page. And since I have nothing better to do, I have just decided that I will make a couple of top ten(or maybe five) lists just for fun. Here goes:

TOP 5 EXPERIENCES OF LAST WEEK:

(1) 2-stepping. This is country-dancing to those of you who don't speak hick. 2-stepping is a fun and generic country dance that is simple to learn and pretty fun. What's even more fun is elaborating on it in crazy new ways to make it more fun. We went on Thursday and had a blast.

(2) First day of work - Yep, I now work. I'm working for Seth's uncle doing what Doug Simmons does - paint repair on cars. So that's an interesting job - good money, funny and interesting co-workers, and weird hours to fit my schedule. Plus, Seth's uncle is one of the nicest guys ever - so that helps. And I get called David instead of Doug, so that's interesting as well (everyone gets a "nickname" - except no one tells you that's what it is - you just think they keep getting your name wrong. Fortunately, I gave up the game early and just let it happen.)

(3) Volleyball - normally the highlight of every week, v-ball drops to number three because they were having some sort of a retarded model show at the courts at the same time. So the music was too loud to talk or give the score, no one else was playing because of the horrible DJ and music, and we were missing some normal guys. Still fun, though. Always fun.

(4) NFL - Tight week this week - lot of close games. And we still have the Chiefs left to play. GO CHIEFS!!!!

(5) Reading HP#6 - Yeah, I've gotten into the habit of reading HBP before bed every night and it has turned out to be every bit as memorable as I had hoped.

TOP 5 THINGS I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO:

(1) A two-week thanksgiving break that will includethe HP film!!! - Yeah, this easily takes the cake. I might even "drop by" Cali - or Arkansas - on my way home because the break is so long. I love life.

(2) Marc Austin's wedding this weekend - get to drive to hicksville, U.S.A. to see buff-man Austin tie the knot. Should be a fun road trip. I predict my car breaks down in....East Texas.]

(3) Cooler weather - it's so blessed hot down here. And my car doesn't have A.C. And I can't roll down the driver side window because it is horribly broken. I am REALLY looking forward to fall where it cools down like 20 degrees and reaches a stable 70 for a week or two. I'm even welcoming winter at this point.

(4) My honeymoon - hey, just thought I'd throw that out there.

(5) Christmas - is it too early for this??? I hope not.

Well...that was....fun. Interesting, I hope - though I myself was not too interested by it. Maybe cause I'm just relaying what's in my head, and its not new for me. Oh well - hope you all enjoyed the update - maybe I'll have something of consequence to say soon.

Probably not, though...

The Swingers Principle

2005-09-14T17:12:00.000-07:00

Why I am frustrated by/don't understand women - take #47713.

Swingers. A classic movie - the classic movie if we're talking about guys in dating situations. We always called it the male version of the chick flick - not because it is amazingly cheesy and filled with improbable situations, but because it addresses the arena of dating/romance/love. In case you haven't seen it - it does so high-lariously. Seriously - a funny movie. "Get there!"

The theme of that movie - which is masterfully and subtly woven throughout it - is stated in its opening scene where a heart-broken man is sitting across the table from his male confidante. He wants to know how to go about interacting with his recent ex-girlfriend. The dialogue - which is perfect - goes as follows: (HB is for heart-broken, C for confidante)

HB: And what if I don't want to give up on her?

C: You don't call.

HB: But you said I shouldn't call if I wanted to give up on her.

C: Right.

HB: So I don't call either way.

C: Right.

HB: So what's the difference?

C: The only difference between giving up and not giving up is if you take her back when she wants to come back. See, you can't do anything to make her want to come back. You can only do things to make her not want to come back.

HB: So the only difference is if I forget about her or pretend to forget about her.

C: Right.

HB: Well that sucks.

C: It sucks.

HB: So its almost like a retroactive decision. So I could like, let's say, forget about her and when she comes back make like I just pretended to forget about her.

C: Right. Or more likely the opposite.

HB: Right....wait, what do you mean?

C: I mean first you'll pretend not to care, not call - whatever. And then, eventually, you really won't care.

HB: Unless she comes back first.

C: Ah see, that's the thing. Somehow they don't come back until you really don't care anymore.

HB: There's the rub

C: There's the rub.

This is the perfect dialogue for a couple of my friends right now. Males going through this same thing - having this same trouble with females. Now, admittedly, this does not apply to all females - but it does seem to apply to a group I'd like to call the "most confusing people in the history of the world". Now remember, none of this applies to me in my current situation - so don't ask about it - and Thomas, no need to pick up the phone to call like you did with those other times. :)

My question is - what is it in girls that makes this happen? The above situation is not excatly the situation that I am addressing - rather, I am addressing a current relationship. In this relationship, the guy is amazing to the girl. He is sooo ridiculously nice - opens doors, pays the check, compliments, calls, etc. Southern hospitality + 1. The problem is, the girl doesn't give him any props - actually seems aloof and apathetic in the midst of these various shows of affection. Granted - this kind of thing happens. Like, for instance, guys do this sort of thing as well. We chase a girl, pursue her, and then lose interest once we're in a relationship. This much I'll allow both sexes. BUT - girls take the confusion/frustration to the next step.

When the guy is being overly nice, the girl pays him no attention. BUT - what happens when the guy stops paying attention to her, loses the southern charm and courtesy, and generally pays her little attention. Now, what doesn't make sense to me is when the girl then turns around and runs after the guy like.....hell. (I'm in seminary now, I can say hell.) What are you doing? The guy gets all confused, having so recently been disappointed by her apathy, and gets what Bill Simmons would call the "Marty Schottenheimer" face. He has no clue what in the heck is going on now.

However, after this recent show of interest and pursuit, the guy is revved up again about this girl. All those things that he had been neglecting because of her apathy, he now revives due to ther energy. Only.....confusion again. Because again, she doesn't seem to give a rip. And the cycle goes on forever. The guy utterly confused because he wants to give it his all, but realizes that the only time he gets pursued/attention/affection is when he is not looking for it.

I guess this goes hand-in-hand with the girls who like "bad boys". As we've all seen, there are those girls who just can't seem to stay away from the rebels, drunks, jerks, etc. There are some girls that just enjoy mean guys. Is that so that they can tame them? Or is it fulfilling some inner urge to be a rebel themselves? I don't know - but if it is, as I think it might be, an urge to tame a wild beast - then that might fit with the above situation. Because what fun is a guy if he is tame already? - beckoning to your call, buying you things willingly, etc. How boring is that?

The best part is - some of these girls are the same ones that sit wistfully and exclaim, "I just want a man who will treat me like a woman - respect me, etc." Yet they spurn what they have before them.

While this has no direct correllation to my present life, I did have this happen in a serious relationship in the past. It seemed like the less I gave, the more she went crazy - talked to other people about how much she liked me, sent me stuff, made me stuff, was much more physically affectionate, etc. But when I would be goo-goo-ga-ga over her, she would shut down. It would be like holding hands with a polar bear. I was always confused and extremely frustrated by this phenomenon. My only thought was that she wanted to feel like she was actively participating, and not just being provided for. Like, she wanted to be noticed as someone who provided for the relationshp as well - giving things, calling, etc. So - I'm confused. But for the sake of my poor friend, I ask for some female insight on this. My personal advice to him - half-joking, half-not - was "dude, ignore her for awhile. that always seemed to work with (blank)". There are a lot of differences between my relationship and his - and they all make this statement much more sensible - but I think the basic concept is the same. Help me out, ladies. Help me help him.

Are you ready?

2005-09-07T23:10:00.000-07:00

for some football? Cause this guy right here sure is. Just so you know - the Chiefs are making the Super Bowl this year. Seriously.

Anyways, on to reality. I turned in my first Masters-level paper today. Yay! Not really a big deal, except you have to deal with dumb formatting issues that certainly aren't an issue at the high school or collegiate levels. Dumb and dumb. However, I know how to unwind after a hard day's work - I watched HP & the Sorceror's Stone tonight. Ah...nothing quite like it.

Funny thing - especially for those of you who went to Family Camp. I got invited to go hear Tommy Nelson speak tonight at a church called The Heights. He had decided to speak on God and the problem of evil because of all the chaos of Hurricane Katrina. Needless to say, I was pumped. It was a moving service - solemn worship followed by a moving video of the destruction in NO put to appropriate music. Then Tommy N. got up. It was weird seeing him in person after seeing him on the screen so many times. He's still cool. First thing he said when he got up to the pulpit? "Let's turn to the book of Ecclesiastes." He then proceeded, to my astonishment, to give the EXACT same talk that he gave in the first two sessions of that Ecclesiastes video we watched during Family Camp - Rocky Road/the whooshing and swooshing noises for nature/ALL the same stories. I was sitting there, both surprised and disappointed, and wondering whether or not anyone else in this auditorium had heard this message already. So anyways - that was sad - but still interesting to see. An amazing church - just plain beautiful. Dallas is like ancient Christendom - all of the money goes into building elaborate and beautiful churches. It's fun to visit around and see all of them - like God's personal museum.

Anyhow - life is good - especially with football starting tomorrow. I am excited to come home over Thanksgiving for an extended period of time. I hope the best for all of you - except for those of you mean people who complained about a picture that I thought was funny. I get complaints, so I change my picture - only to get more complaints. You people are so hard to please (the girls, of course - no surprise there). So I decided to revert to me as a gun-carrying crazy man. And I don't care if you don't like it. Shove it. That said - I love you. :)

Much-Anticipated Normality...

2005-08-30T21:32:00.000-07:00

Aaah.....

That's better.

The last two days have been really good - for a number of reasons. First and foremost - things have felt normal. I'm getting used to where to walk on campus, I know the ins and outs of things like the dining commons, I can recognize and greet others on campus with enthusiasm and inside jokes, and class has started.

There really is nothing like feeling like you belong. Or like you've found home - wherever that may be. Just like with music, this is the glorious release after that oh-so-awful, Tri-City-esque tension. That tension that makes you feel uncomfortable even in the most normal of circumstances and interactions - that tension that makes you look back over your shoulder constantly because you forgot, or just don't know, what exactly is supposed to be over your shoulder. Faces become familiar, and with familiarity comes that sense of inclusion. It has often been said that you fear what you do not know - and every time I hear it, my soul reverberates its truth.

It helps that I had a fantasy football draft tonight with a ton of my old friends from Wheaton. Nothing like interacting with old friends - and realizing the closeness you have with them - to make you realize the potential effect that those around you might end up having on your life. Perspectivizes everything. (I love made-up words...)

Anyways - good news. I think I have two weeks off for Thanksgiving - does anybody else have an inordinate time off, so we can hang out? Or am I just going to have to travel around and pick you all up from college (read: drive to MALIBU)? Hope you all are well - much love from Dallas.
And with all of this newfound love, I have decided to share this with you. :)

Sweethearts

I want to leave you with more than just clichés,
But that’s all that I have right now
So I will throw aside the embarrassment of sounding like
A chick flick script,
And douse you with one-liners

I want to open a box of Sweethearts,
And read you every message.
Even the dumb ones.
I want you to feel their truth,
I want you to know that it was my heart that wrote them,
I want my words to taste as sweet as those hearts,
I want you to taste them.
When I say, “I love you”, I want your taste buds to scream it back
I want your whole body to feel the weight of my words

I want my words to be your good,
To be your pleasure
To be a sweet aroma to you.
I want to appeal to more than just one of your senses,
I want you to know that I love you even if you lost your hearing.
I want you to taste my love.

I want to open a box of sweethearts,
And pour them all over you.
I want the messages to wash over you like sweet-smelling rain
I want you to play in them, taking joy in their falling
And relishing their refreshment.
I want you to bathe in my love.

I want my words to light up the air in front of you
Better than any movie,
More impressive than any pyrotechnic display,
I want you to see my love in vivid colors,
In your dreams I want it to be there,
Dancing in your head,
And producing sweet visions

I want my love to tickle your taste buds,
I want it to surround your lips,
And caress every part of your face.
I want my love to be a sweet smell
A soft touch,
A warm embrace,
And a mouth-watering taste.

I love you.

Words of Advice...For Myself

2005-08-27T22:42:00.000-07:00

The first couple of days here have been rough - I'm not gonna lie. The first day of orientation (Thursday) was spent either in line or running around for the most part. I showed up to find that I should have been at Dallas the day before to take placement tests, that I should already be signed up for more classes, and then I failed my first Greek placement test HORRIBLY. I needed a 70 - and got a 47.5. Only to find out that that was "better than most people did." Yikes. I'm scared.

It didn't get much better on Friday. I took tests from 9 - 3, pretty much straight through. No lie. That's pretty ridiculous. I sat there after finishing one of them, laughing at the differences between seminary orientation and college orientation. I can remember the ridiculous games we played during Wheaton orientation, the trip downtown, the free food. Now I'm sitting in the middle of a day of placement tests wondering if I'm going to be able to get into any classes and wondering if I'm gonna be able to juggle this with a part-time job that I need to get a scholarship. The old folks are right - life is more fun when you're young.

OK - that was good - I got a lot of complaining out of my system. Sorry you had to sit through that. I'm actually excited still for classes to start - can't wait to actually start learning. The guys here are great, and the dorm life is gonna be a blast. Stayed up late tonight talking with a couple of guys about pacifism/ethics stuff. I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of late-night discussions in the dorm. I'll let you know when one of my new friends puts a book out.

Anyways - I was talking to my dad lately about how I'm so bad with transition stages. We were talking about the fact that certain people just aren't as good with moving on to different stages of their life - the ones who need a lot of closure and do things like take two minutes to end a phone conversation - that type. Well, I'm kind've one of those. I become this shy person (relatively) when I get into a competely new environment - I pine for home where everything is comfortable and my friends get all my jokes. And I don't give the new people a chance. So - I'd been thinking a lot about it and I....well, what do you think I did? I wrote a poem about it. So here is the first draft - this is dedicated to Mitzi, and snogging, and Exeter. I love you guys.

Memory's Fire
How fond the memories of this passing
How melancholy its end
How bright burn the memories of recent love
And how warm is their sudden burning

And how cold the heart when those memories depart
And leave in their place a vacuum of love
A black hole sucking for something to fill the void
But nothing can replace the fire

At every transition,
I feel like a man lost in an arctic wilderness
Clinging to the fire
To cling to life

I live in the flames of memory
I shut myself in
Surrounding myself with the warmth from your faces
And shutting all of the new ones out

But memory’s fire grows crueler with time
It burns away the dross and
Leaves the stoker with only
Fond remembrance upon fond remembrance –
Pleasantries all the more painful in their absence -
Soaked wood -stacked and waiting to be ignited.

Flames so attractive,
So endearing,
You hardly notice
When it grows to an inferno

Stand too close, too long –
And your life is devoured by the flames
And floats away as ash.
But stand too far off,
And the heart will freeze

So I will step out of these consuming flames
But remain to enjoy the warmth
I will bask in the glow of your faces,
But seek new warmth and stoke fresh flames.

You're mad at me....

2005-08-17T00:34:00.000-07:00

and I'm okay with that.

Yeah - so I haven't posted in about a month. What with Blast, Mexico, and Family Camp I don't blame myself. (convenient, huh?) Anyways, life has been crazy - but it is settling down nicely again. I am excited to go off to seminary in a week or so - but I am sad to part with you Topekans yet again. What a cruel friendship - to be parted just as our flower has reached its bloom.

I am watching my brother pack right now to head off to college. Weird and weird. He still seems too young to be going to college. And I feel WAY too young to be done with it. I can't escape this feeling that time has played a cruel trick on me and I'm going to wake up from this dream to be 18 and heading off to Wheaton. I hate time. But then again, I hate most things that I can't control. (On a side note, Coldplay is a great band for dealing with hard transitions. If you ever feel your head start to spin with the crushing realizations of a new world about to overtake you - just turn on Coldplay and soak in its mellow tones. Everything will be allright. Side, side note: this is why country music blows. At what point during this mind trip could you turn on a country station and be comforted by the lyrics, "there's pizza on the table, booze on the floor" etc? Country music is the secondary bane of my existence.)

(I'm not telling you what the primary bane of my existence is - but it starts with "Ben" and ends with "Nelson". Yellowcard rocks.) (Thomas, you suck too. Yellowcard for president.)

Here's a random poem to end this blog - I'm sure the updates will become more frequent once I head off to a new place and search for friendly contacts that remind me of more welcoming places. Thanks to all of you newcomers (slash, Mexico friends and unknowns) that posted on my blog of eternal stagnation.

Draped

Draped in a shroud of lovely thoughts,
pictures of you dripping from every protrusion -
every fold of cloth a different smile,
its smooth touch the reminder of yours.

I love to curl up in this shroud of you,
to curl up in the dimples of your smile -
and when we are so cruelly parted
this becomes my grand retreat.

Sometimes the disturbance makes me restless.
And the longing leaves my feet cold.
But the picture of your eyes that is branded to my heart
never fails to warm my heart -
and the memories of your beauty
always stretch to cover my toes.

This secret circle hidden from the public square
keeps me surrounded by you.
I make myself alone amidst the crowd
that I may be alone with you in my mind.

Remembering every fond word and every fond touch -
every one infinitely more rich than the praise of all these noble fools.
In here my heart is filled to overflowing with pictures of you -
My soul is set ablaze by the fire in your eyes
and my body longs to feel at home in your arms.

(crazy suicidal turn...)

Life is merely the continuance of breath -
the meaningless regress of the lungs -
unless that breath carries into my body
the sweetness that is you.

I know not how I am to go on
when this shroud is all I have of you.
Of what use is life
when joy is to be found only in the retreat from it?

If I don't think my soul can bear this hunger for you now -
will it starve when we are parted forever?
Or will it just slowly drift into nothingness...

Or worse, will I remain
while this shroud dissolves from around my eyes?
Will your eyes burn less bright as I search for them harder -
will the brand fade entirely?

But I will press these worries out of this shroud.
I will rise the sinking weight that is the future.
And I will meet you face to face.
I will tear off this shroud,
and hold close what I miss so dearly.

Things I might not ever understand...

2005-07-19T14:01:00.000-07:00

The last few days I have encountered certain phenomena which I put into the category of "WTF" - why the frick - phenomena. The "WTF" category is a category set aside for those things that are extremely perturbing or befuddling. These are the types of things that make you question the capability or intelligence of those people who surround you, the types of things that make you look around and wonder to yourself, "am I taking crazy pills?"

(1) Bottled Water.

This WTF item has always been a huge one for me. I remember when I first saw bottled water in the stores - like 10 years ago or something. I specifically remember thinking something to the effect of, "that's the dumbest thing I've ever seen - there's no way that's going to make any money." And now look, its a multi-gajillion dollar business that is thriving more and more as the metros are let loose on our idiotic society.

Many times in the past, specifically in Mr. James' econ class, I have considered giving up pop because I spent too much money on it. Or at least, being prudent about how I buy it - only in cheaper 12 packs, and not from the machines that rip you off so well. But never, and I do repeat, NEVER have I bought a single bottled water. I continue to believe that it is the dumbest way to spend money ever. (I know I'm probably offending some of you bottled water addicts. But I think I'm okay with that.)

I've often thought through what would make it worth it, or under what extraordinary circumstances I would consider buying bottled water, and only one has ever seemed to be a worthy excuse - international travel. It seems totally commendable to me to buy bottled water when going to say, Mexico or Puerto Rico where water purification is an issue. However, in the great country of the United States, with strict laws on purification and building codes - I can't think of many other excuses. On Blast, there was a good example of a time when I thought it prudent to buy bottled water - the leaders were going to be out on the boats all day at Table Rock Lake, and so Mark got bottled water for us. That makes sense to me because (1) we were not going to be near a healthy water source for an extended period of time and because (2) that extended amount of time included the possibility of dehydration. But how about those people who buy bottled water, only to come home and put it in the frig.....right next to the sink. Que? Makes no sense to me. Shoot - makes less than sense to me. It makes me want to take their wallets from them and steal that money that they seem so keen to give away.

Prime example - we stopped at a gas station on our way to Blast. People seeking cool refreshment immediately headed to the freezers and greedily eyed bottles of promising liquid satisfaction. Many reached in and grabbed sodas that were calling out their names. Others reached for cool, crisp Aquafina or Dasani. And then there were the intelligent ones. These were the ones who walked up to the counter with the largest fountain cup possible filled to the brim with water and ice and the contentment at knowing their thirst was only seconds away from being slaked. The difference? The ones with the bigger fountain cups were saving about a dollar. For the same product. Seriously folks, Why The Frick? And let's pretend that there wasn't cheap water in the fountain (which, by the way, there almost always is) - is it too disgusting to have to get the water out of the sink in the bathroom? I can see that it might be for some of you. But as for me and my house, we'll save the dollar every time.

(2) The I'm-just-going-to-pretend-I-didn't-see-that-wave/I'm-hard-core non-response

Yeah, so that title was long and belaboured. However, I have two prime examples of this in the past two days - so I thought I'd mention it. Yesterday, I was driving down our street towards Wanamaker, and saw two of my neighbors out walking. My windows were rolled down as I was enjoying the nice day, and as always my arm was draped lazily out the window. I very clearly made eye contact with both of them and waved obviously to them. They just stared and watched me pass. No acknowledgment of my presence, no return wave, not even a slight nod of the head that I could mistake for common courtesy. No, just cold, hard, meanness. Seriously, what could possibly be holding you back from extending any kind of common courtesy? Even if I was pissed off at the world, I would return a friendly wave. And I'm dead serious about that. I honestly think that somebody close to me could have died, and I would still give some sort of acknowledging nod, wave, or smile (though probably not the smile at that point). And it baffles me to think that you could willfully be that stupidly mean or thoughtless.

Funny thing was, it happened again that same day. However, the second time it was a couple of kids - so I can chalk that up to being scared or being instructed not to talk to strangers. Plus, they didn't eat the candy I gave them, so that was sad. However, it still baffles me. WTF, mate?
Do you think you're too hard-core for me? Am I not cool enough? Are you too afraid that something embarassing might happen, like you raise your arm to wave and reveal gross pit stains? I'm simulatneously eternally curious and eternally frustrated by the entire phenomena.

If you're bored...

2005-07-08T14:37:00.000-07:00

So I got some mixed comments in response to the car games. Ben Nelson just plain couldn't understand the saw-arm game (go T-high!) - but at least its going to make for a really annoying nickname. Thanks, Ben. Some people had trouble with Craig's - but hey, that's just cause he's a genius.

Blast is next week - yikes. And you know what that means? THE SUMMER IS FREAKING ALMOST OVER. Are you kidding me? I feel like I've only been here for like two weeks. Ah well - I guess I could always just quit all my jobs, skip seminary, and stay in T-town forever. Hm.........

Side note: Do you ever feel like there are WAY too many good bands, and there's no way in heck you're going to be able to keep up with them all/listen to them enough to fully appreciate them? (insert Ben Nelson comment here...) I do. Just recently, I've been listening to a lot of Yellowcard (thanks Eilert) and Something Corporate (thanks Stwicky). And those two make the fortieth and forty-first bands that I've been introduced to this summer that I love. Where did they all come from? And will it ever stop? Cause whenever I go to listen to music now, I am actually frustrated with myself any time I choose songs, because I'm sure there are others that I like more, but I just can't remember what they are. Argh.

That said, here's a poem:

Vitriol

I can't freaking sleep
Because my head won't stop churning
My mind is so mixed right now
I feel like you are a master bartender
and my mind the helpless glass
into which you pour your confusion.

I drank it up - I drank whatever you gave me
Like a raging alcoholic, I sought out
your liquid of confusion
and imbibed it at all costs.

Drunk on love,
or whatever cheap imitation you are offering me,
I stumble toward you.
It is a staggering love, an enigmatic love

An obsessive love.

And now as I lay my head down on my pillow,
it aches with pain.
And the heart in my chest makes the bed sink beneath its weight.
My body still reeling from my latest encounter,
I lay in wait
for the hangover to leave.

But it doesn't.
And I'm left with your words echoing loudly in my drunk ears,
And your actions replaying on every screen of my intoxicated mind.
And I lie restless - praying for a miracle.

Praying for a secret knock on the window.
Praying for you to call and tell me that I'm the only one.
Praying for you to respond to my endless supply of pleading looks and furtive glances.

But mostly, praying for you to take the straw out of my head.
Let my contents settle - let the hangover end.
Because I want to drink in all that you are.
But I want you to thirst after me as well - and if I'm not the mix you want,
then for pete's sake - go stir someone else's emotions.

Why I don't like hecklers...

2005-07-02T18:59:00.000-07:00

(I just asked Joey Patton for a good title - and he just spit that out - so it has absolutely nothing to do with this post - a little "btw" for ya.)

First, welcome newbs (Meredith, Jules, Emily Crago - you guys are more than welcome) :) You know - I had been getting more self-conscious about posting personal stuff on my blog because I kept randomly running into people who have read it - parents walking up to me in church once in a while and talking to me about my latest post, for instance. A little disarming, to say the least. Anyhow - I've decided that it is dumb to be more reserved just because more people are looking in. Plus, if the comments on my last post are any indicator, it was probably just blindside aftermath that died off quickly. So - nothing changes.

As I was saying a couple of posts ago - I have these ridiculous games that I play with myself when I'm on the road just because I'm weird like that. Mainly, I'm putting these out because I was thinking the other day, "Is this just me...or do other people do stuff like this too?" So - I'd love to hear some crazy game you play while on the road. Mine all take place completely in the mind - which means I just look deep in thought probably - ha ha ha - suckers.

(1) The Wood-Metal game.

Origin: This game is the one I have played the longest and I play the most often. It came about one day as my hand was pointing out the open window, and my eyes followed my fingers to the trees on the side of the road. Then I imagined that there was a long saw attached to my arm, and with it I cut down the trees and wooden posts that were bordering the road. My saw, however, can't cut through the metal of signs and medians.

Goal: The deal is - it hurts my saw (and consequently my arm) if I have to hit a metal post. SO - I want to cut down as many trees/logs as possible, that way they roll down the road in front of me and take out the metal signs before I get there with my arm. That means I have to keep track of how many logs I cut down. Weird, huh? And then, if we run into a bad area where there are just continuous metal signposts, I can cheat and move over them with my saw if I lift my arm high enough - so once in a while when I start to roll my hand out the window, its because I'm trying to prevent my saw-arm from getting hurt. :)

2. The Simple Word Game

Origin: I have no idea - probably after a particular rousing game of Anagrams with my father or Boggle with my aunt, I decided this would be fun. And now I do it all the time - on the road or off it. Pretty much anytime I see words and am bored.

Rules: Double letters cross out - then just mix and match to see how many word combinations you can make. For instance - let's say you see the sign "exit now" - there are no double letters, so you just switch the letters around to form whatever words you can - they don't have to make sense. So you could do "toxin we" or....I don't think anything else - I think "toxin we" might be the only other combo with those letters. But say you get the sign "construction zone". You get rid of the first two "o"s, the "t"s, the "c"s and the "n"s. Now what are you left with? Hurts the brain, huh? Try to do it without looking - becomes a little harder. so we're left with sruizeo - "our size" being the easiest and possible only combo available.

Those are the games I play the most on the road - I have one or two more that aren't really worth mentioning. I thought you guys needed to know that stuff in case you guys ever got bored. You can thank me for the hours of entertainment later. And if you ever see me waving my arms violently while driving down the road - know that its just because I'm trying to save my saw-arm.

The Lifted Veil
April 6, 2004

Tonight was the first time in a long time I had been that nervous.
Tonight was a return to my childhood memories of love and the playground.
I took you for a walk, I stumbled over my words, I told you I liked you.
And you didn’t say it back. Shocking? Not in the least.

Your vestal heart expressed fear over my prostituted heart.
Your eyes said yes, but your mind said no.
Another reason I cherish you more than others,
A far cry from the ignorant sentimentalism of the past.

I left smiling, grinning like a schoolboy all the way back to my room
And singing to myself with a newfound joy. Why?
What joy can be found in hearing a maybe when your heart has been laid on the line?
Or what peaceful song arises from the soul troubled by the possibility of unrequited love?

The joy and the song flow forth from a new beginning for the two of us
A beginning in which I know your feelings,
In which you voluntarily lay your heart in front of me to speak to me
And one in which my boldness is encouraged and met with honesty.

In this I take great delight.
Even in such uncertainty will I praise,
For your insights are deep, your doubts real, and your smile disarming.
All this, and only now has the veil been lifted.

War of the WHAT???

2005-06-30T14:59:00.000-07:00

***WARNING: Spoilers ahead for War of the Worlds****

Watched "War of the Worlds" last night. And let me tell you - there is absolutely no excuse for that. We all agreed that the only reason the reviews had been held off until opening day was because Spielberg didn't want anyone to know how HORRIBLE it was. I was pretty sure that all 15 or 20 of us that saw it last night thought it was crappy as heck - but then when I came home later and looked at all of the online reviews, most people gave it really high marks. Um....WHY??? The effects were AMAZING - I truly loved the first hour/hour and a half of the flick. I thought the premise was exciting, the action was intense, and the acting pretty good. Unfortunately for the movie, there was no plot. Or at least, it was so full of holes that it acted more like a sieve than anything that held water.

Endless questions rolled off our tongues as we sat there in absolute disbelief after the movie was done. There was absolutely no why included in the movie. We didn't know why the aliens attacked, why they wanted our planet, why they waited for millions of years to undergo a massive takeover when they could've just occupied it "before any human was here", why they decided to put bloody stems all over the earth, etc. And most importantly, the entire conclusion was rolled into a vague thirty-second monologue from Morgan Freeman. COMPLETELY UNSATISFYING. Now, I will leave the official-sounding reviews to Paul and such - but all I have to say is....this movie made me extremely angry. I have so many questions, I have barely even begun to scratch the surface of them. And so I will try to stop thinking about it now.

That's all I have for today - Dana, I just finished the book. I liked it - but I think I would have liked more resolution in that story as well. I loved the way it was told, though. Great narration. Very fascinating. And I'm done with my reviews...

Sweet Vicarious (Bloody?) Vengeance (maybe??)

2005-06-27T15:07:00.000-07:00

While driving down the road today, I was thinking about all the things I do and have done for years to keep myself interested while driving or riding in a car. I'm going to write an entire post of these things later, because there are about twenty - and man, are some of them dumb/funny.

And I almost got into a fight last night with two drunk guys. That was FUN!! Not. That's what you get for hanging out at Sonic late at night, I guess. That place is loser heaven from like 9 p.m. on. Bostwick and I were playing volleyball last night with some people we had just met (T-high grads) against some people that had just challenged us (rural grads). A lot of fun, really. It's always an exhilirating and fun experience to meet new people and get along with them and laugh with them. Enter, drunk jerk #1. As we were leaving and saying our good-byes, drunk guy pealed into the empty Sonic parking lot and yelled at one of the girls we had been playing with something to the effect of "hey red shorts - you got a name?". She turned away and didn't say anything, looking awkward, so I yelled beck and told them her name was Jamaica hoping that would resolve the issue. Well, despite being drunk and holding an open 40 in one hand, idiot-man didn't fall for that one. Instead, after yelling (with increasing aggressiveness) twenty more times out of the truck, and me and some of the others yelling things back like "she's not interested dude, keep moving" (that was yelled by another one of the girls who was standing next to her), he got pissed and got out of his truck with his shorter (read: midget) also drunk friend. They walked straight out onto the court and told me that if I was going to keep (bleep)'ing running my mouth, I would have to back it up, bleeping bleeper. And of course, I did. I punched him like twenty times in the face. No, but seriously, then his midget friend got into it, and did that walk-right-into-the-guy-with-your-chest-and-shove-him-backwards move to me. Now, there were about 15 of us standing around these guys - and some of the rural guys were big. But what do you do? Do you start the fight, knowing that the 15 of you could kick the crap out of the drunk guys? Or do you walk away? And don't ask W.W.J.D. - cause I think we all know that the disciples would have beat the crap out of those guys WAY before they got to Jesus. Anyways, I pretty much just stood there, crawled into a hole, and said I wouldn't run my mouth anymore. That was followed by the typical "that's what I thought"s and "mother (bleep) (bleep)"s. Then they got back into their truck, whooped like they were on the war path, squealed their tires (of course) and pealed on out of Loserville. I stood there, relatively shaken, and then left Loserville myself.

I thought a lot about the scenario since then. What I wanted to do, of course, was fight. Or at least that's what the testosterone in me wanted - especially when you know you got 12 guys getting your back, and three girls or so to bite them once you've got them down. But then - if these guys are dumb enough to drive drunk and flail open alcohol bottles out of their truck - what makes you think they're going to follow any law about weapons? And at what point is it just not worth it to challenge them, in case they pull a pistol out of their back pocket and "bring it on, hoe" become your last words. House of pain ended up bringing it, to reference the immortal words of Vince Vaughn. But, should you really just back down and let the morons get away with being complete jerks? And at what point is taking two drunk fools off the street a service to society that should be undertaken at all costs? Anyways, that was that. I hadn't really been in many fight situations before - so that was a new thought process for this guy.

Oh well - if you have ideas - I'd love to hear them. Or if you have stories about how you kicked the crap out of some drunk guys I'd love to hear that even more, as it might vicariously slake my thirst for vengeance. Notes on the notes below - wrote this during one of those harder times, when I just couldn't seem to get over the same freaking sin. I like the last stanza especially:

Free-Floating
A thousand missed opportunities
A blinding supply of second chances
And a blinding array of stupidity to put an end to them all
When is my 70 times 7 up?

How can God even work with this stupidity?
Doesn’t this surpass all bounds of mercy?
I need to find out how far the east is from the west –
Because my ship of sin has set sail.

No matter how wildly I flail my arms,
Nor how much weight I add with my tears,
I can not seem to slow this driving wind.

Be my anchor, O Rock of Ages
Calm the storms that drive me on.
Guide me through the wind-tossed waters
Be the rudder – guide me home.

Rebaptism

2005-06-22T23:15:00.000-07:00

So last week, in the middle of one of the more fun weeks I've had in a long time, I got rebaptized. And I totally didn't even see it coming. I had hopped into Bryan's (the groom) jeep as we headed off to clean the church up for the rehearsal and noticed a big book on the seat next to me. I picked it up to discover, with excitement I might add, that it was the fourth Harry Potter book. After a brief and energetic conversation with Bryan about the book, I picked a random spot in the book and started to read. And I couldn't freaking stop. I read it like three more times that weekend despite the amazing festivities going on around me. Bryan even brought it into the back room of the church so I could read it right before the wedding. And then I read some more during pictures. And then I read some out loud to fellow groomsman Jeff. I had been rebaptized by J.K. Rowling, and it felt good.

Then I borrowed Adam A.'s copy multiple times during our bus ride for the Power Trip (which was a blast, I might add) to start reading some more. So now, back home, I am immersing myself in it. I now plan to read four again in the next two days, and then five by next Wednesday. Just for the heck of it. I rarely read books multiple times - hardly ever, really. But these I seem to be able to read over and over without getting tired of them. And for all of you that think Harry Potter is unbiblical - this post might scare you. And I'm okay with that.
The Power Trip was a lot of fun - it was a lot of deja vu from the school trips as we boarded our bus and watched movies and played cards over seats. I got the Leenerts kids hooked on Authors - which was funny because we used to play that game when were like....4 or something. I couldn't believe they enjoyed it. Whitewater rafting was a blast - and the experience was even heightened, in my own opinion, by the massive thunderstorm that was at our heels the whole time. Made the whitewater look a whole lot freakier - especially for the majority of those kids who had never before traversed dangerous rapids at the mercy of a guide who would probably enjoy you falling out of the boat more than anything. Six Flags was cool as well - but long - and I was grateful to get home and sleep for 12 hours today. Felt darn good.

That being said - I also created a new hobby on my road trip to Chicago last week. Many people ridicule/criticize/laugh at my dad for reading books while driving. Well, when I got bored on the way up to Chicago, I decided it would be a good use of my time to write. So I did. Now, this is noticably less dangerous than reading, as you only need to focus on the paper long enough to put your pen down. Then you start writing, and just hope that you wrote in a straight enough line as to be able to read it later. This was a lot more fun than just sitting there, listening to music, and it passed the time greatly. So - I wanted to share with you some of the firstfruits of that labor. I call it....

The Immeasurable Invincibility of a Summer Sunset's Breeze

As the warmth creeps from this earth
and my hand cascades in this cool breeze,
I feel the power of a thousand men.
The very breath I take makes me feel invincible

The hills are no match for me;
the mountains are my playground
A marathon is too short for my legs -
I have strength enough for ten.

As I breathe again -
my mind is set on fire and
hope courses in my every heartbeat.
The impossible is within my grasp
and any problem can be fixed.

Nature shines forth in an enrapturing
display of color and beauty -
every tree and rock flexing an immeasurable power

And I flex back -
with the pride of the human spirit
and a power too deep to be known.

Exhaled, the sweet air sweeps away with the breeze
to bring invincibility to another dreamer

Barely alive....

2005-06-14T17:10:00.000-07:00

Shadows and Dust

Have you figured me out?
For so long I played the game right.
Did I let my mask slip?
Never slipping, never hinting, always safe.
So why the long face and short reply?
Did the wind carry my whispers to you?

For so long, love was kindled and fueled from afar
And I stood in between my fire and you
And all you could see were shadows of passion
A small fire in my heart, growing gradually to a blaze
Fanned by your smile, coaxed by your gaze.

So why is there a change?
Did you see through the shadows?
Or did you catch too much of my warmth?
A week’s longing to see your face,
Maybe it shows on mine.
It’s getting harder to block the blaze,
Growing every moment you’re gone,
Raging every instant you are near.

I want to get out of the way,
And let you see the blaze
But I fear that I’ll burn you,
Or that you will run from the heat.
And so I dutifully stand here,
With my back slowly burning,
Blocking my love from you.
And hoping you stay cold.

Point, Exeter.

2005-06-03T11:41:00.000-07:00

Man, do I love volleyball. And summer. And family. And Mystery Science Theater 3000.

Sorry I haven't updated in sooooo long - I have been amazingly busy at church. Doing grunt work is so much fun. As is poking yourself in the eye with a flaming stick. Hopefully, that will die down for the rest of the summer, and I can get down to spending some QT with people. Summer Sizzle next week - as some of you tired people know already (Crandalls, Craig)...he he he. The pranking has just begun. I am actually looking forward to the craziness of next week, as long as it involves people. Looking forward to seeing as many of you as possible at the church next week.

To my fellow Wheatonites - I'm excited to see some of you in two weeks. And oh yeah - let's play some volleyball. I'm an addict. Anyhow - that's about all that is interesting in my life right now - work and friends - so I have included a little rhyme from when my life was a little more interesting, in the hopes that this post will be worth reading at all. I never titled it - so if you have a good idea for it at the end, I'd love to steal it from you and become famous off of it later in life.

Untitled

O God Omniscient, all-knowing and all-seeing,

I come to you now, confused and bleeding.
I've been here before - more frequent of late
Which makes my distress seem all the more unearned
For the first time since sight, I've given it up
I've cleaned my plate and emptied my cup
I asked you to take me and do what you will
I pledged myself to you, and to bowing the knee
For you to lead me in the paths of righteousness

But why has that path led me back to this door?
I feel like you're leading, but this can't be right,
Why curse me with her, why is misery my plight?

For long did I chase after butterfly and bee
Before I came round and ran after thee
So why lead me here, to this beautiful tree?
A fixture so grounded, so rooted is she
A woman of virtue, of body so fair
with a smile that makes me as light as the air
And the beauty, the eros of straight golden hair
The fairest of trees, and I now a monk
who must gaze at the leaves and sit at the trunk

I must sit by and watch as others come
And carve their initials and make you their home
And if ever I try to get up and forget
The beauty beheld, that entrances me yet
The tree shakes a little, and whispers to me
And off drops a leaf from the fair golden tree

Its slave, I do sit, and again take up sight
Never to partake fully, bound by my plight

And so, my great Guide, I follow you still
You have taken my heart and broken my will
I'm sitting at the end of your path, crying
At the trunk of this tree my heart lays dying

By the beard of Zeus!

2005-05-21T12:50:00.000-07:00

Yes, I watched Anchorman again last night. And yes, it is still a hilarious movie.

For the last few days, I have been trying to successfully connect my computer from school with my computer at home. Unfortunately, I have been foiled at every turn. This dumb computer at home doesn't even have Microsoft Word - blah, blah, blah, computer jargon - so all of my documents get horrible screwed up and look like freaking wingdings. SO - that being said, I can only use about 9 or 10 of my old documents. I have been trying to post since I saw Star Wars on Thursday - which was awesome, by the way - but I have become this computer's.....slave. And that sucks. So - this is the best I can do - and I probably won't be posting as much during the summer since most people who read this are people from home who I will see on a weekly basis.

Congratulations to all you graduates! Way to go on what is for many of you merely the first part of your education. It only gets better from here - I think. I hope to congratulate many of you in person this weekend.

I forgot why I wrote the following poem exactly - but I think this is how I felt when I was expressing emotion to one of my friends up at school. It's always been annoying to me when I express deep emotion to someone - love or hate - and they respond with that all-too familiar head-nod and "mm....I feel your pain" sound, and then leave it at that. I can't even tell if that person is really listening to me. No feedback - no questions - no shared feelings? Nothing? If I'm angry - I either want you to get mad with me, or rebuke me for my anger and tell me that its stupid - don't really just want you to sit there and furrow your brow. Give me something to work with here. This poem goes beyond that though - when I wrote it, I couldn't help but think of Les Mis (which I had just seen). So - that's some background for ya...

The Cry of Suffering (4/30/05)

I don’t want you to show me your empty sympathy,
I want you to share my passion

I don’t want your soft words and soothing voice
I want your screams of injustice, I want your rage

It’s not your money that I seek, not even your heartfelt apologies
I want to see your knuckles white and your face red.

Your words do nothing but pin me down,
Like nails holding me in a coffin of apathy
What I need from you is for you to not stand idly by
Do not stand by and watch me get bloodied,
Only to pick me up, dress my wounds with words, and send me back
All you’re doing is building my scar tissue,
Layers upon layers of tough skin - unfeeling, unhelpful
I need my emotions for this revolution; I need to feel myself bleed –
Together we might stir this stew, this mess of stink and rot, to its feet
Together we can stand and fight, though our bodies be beaten and used
But my voice is weak in solitude, and my fists need your eyes to guide them
If spilled alone, my blood can not appease. The pagan god of injustice craves more.
Let us spill our blood together for those who do not fight
Those too weak, too entombed, too scared.
Let us fight for them, that the arm of justice may be extended even to those who seek it not.

And let it be us.
Do not stand there and cheer me on.
Do not e-mail your congressman about me.
Do not pretend that legislation will save me.
Join me in these trenches, and experience what hell on earth looks like.
Bleed with me, and then rise to spit the blood out of your mouth,
Shake your fist at evil, and shake your fist at power
Let the power of the soul speak over the power of oppression.
Get dirty with me, bleed with me, fight with me.
Stop talking, and get down here.
Let it be us.

Home At Last

2005-05-16T13:37:00.000-07:00

Playing sand volleyball for three hours yesterday, preceded by pizza and followed by cards, made me remember oh so quickly why I like home so much. This place is the bomb - euphoric even. T-Carr can show me all the beautiful pictures of Malibu he wants, but unless my brothers and friends are in the pictures, I'm not jealous. Always better to be home....

It seems time for me to express a little more romantic angst, this one should do the trick. It's always interesting for me to choose which poem to share - I guess it ends up being totally random. Maybe someday, I'll run out. But hopefully not. Before I begin, I would like to give credit to Dashboard for the title(Ben tunes out because I said Dashboard....) (and nobody cares.....) (ZING!) :

Saint and Sinner

A beauty untainted by the world's dark paths
Hearkens me back to a day too long ago.
A beauty I traded for the passing highs,
A time filled with fleeting addictions.

Oh, to see what product would have been
Had I not relinquished my making!

In a way, you are that product.
The purity you hold, I relinquished,
For I made cheap what you hold dear.
I prostituted true beauty for an unholy trinket.

So now, a prostitute, I come to you,
In rags pursuing a king's riches.
Will you share this purity with me?
Can you risk your wealth on a prodigal son?

Become one with an unholy flesh,
and make pure again what once was as you now are.

Signs of Life

2005-05-12T01:35:00.000-07:00

I laughed just typing that title - I remember Adriel listening to that Steven Curtis Chapmna song many times in our house back on Crest. Good times, great oldies.

So....I have been MIA lately. Graduation on Sunday went extremely well, finals the week before were put off until the last minute...and then handed in late. Oh well - I can only write so many papers when I have a week left with some of the coolest people in the world. Fortunately for me, the rest of the coolest people are in T-town and we're hanging out this summer. Life has been good - I have the first of three weddings that I am in this summer on Friday, and I am home on Saturday. I want to play poker.

Thanks for the comments on the sarcasm post, they were good once again. I appreciate you posting even when you thought I was dead. Speaking of dead - GO ROYALS! Ha ha ha ha.

On to more important things. One, I think I am going to have to change my blog slightly. After some comments and an e-mail or two, this blog got to be emotionally draining during a time when I needed all the emotional stability I could get. (At this point, B. Nelson tunes out because I just used the word emotionally...) It actually is pretty draining to discuss personal matters in public when you open yourself up to attack. SO, I will be being more careful and probably less open in future posts. Hopefully, I can still post poetry without some of you guys getting mad.

Lastly, just thought I'd follow up that sarcasm discussion with a little essay I wrote three summers ago at home. I looked back on it following the sarcasm post, and though it doesn't directly correspond, it seemed helpful. Though I wrote it specifically about comedy, I think it can easily be read to apply to entertainment on the whole. When I read it this last time, it seemed a little overdone for my taste - but then again, I am often overdoing things. I am pumped to see you T-towners again - be home soon.

Comedy in a Humorless World

From insane Saturday Night Live skits to Conan O’Brien’s hilariosity to Adam Sandler teaching a kid to pee on a wall - comedy is the food of our society. It has taken over every form of national media, especially among the teens. Ten out of every five kids when interviewed on the street will tell you that a good sense of humor is one, if not the single most important quality in finding a future spouse. Why all the comedy? Why does our world seem to need all the laughs? Doctors will tell you its because laughter is good for the soul. True, of course. But weeping is also good for the soul. As is companionship, solitude, physical exercise, and hundreds of other things. No, I don’t think we are overindulgent in comedy because it simply feels good.

No, comedy has begun to take over as we sink deeper and deeper into sin, and further and further away from the pursuit of God. The connection? Obvious - maybe. Put yourself for one day in the shoes of an unbeliever. You wake up and decide to go to work. Why? So you can make money, so you can buy a new car, or some new clothes, or anything to impress the rest of the world - who, by the way, is not paying any attention to you because they are all too busy trying to do the same thing. You get off work, and go to hang out with your friends. Why? Because it is fun. Because they make you laugh. Because they know you, and you know them, and the feeling of familiarity is a comfortable one. But mostly because, you can laugh with them. Then you go home, lie awake in your bed, and stare at the ceiling……..just stare. Why did I just do all of that today? How did that help me one iota? I got 45 more dollars to spend on things to make me feel better. Why? So that one day, when I retire and begin to waste away, I will at least be surrounded by expensive things that do their best to give me a sense of accomplishment.

Wow. What a dead life. Anybody up for suicide? Tell you what - if I was not a Christian, I might have ended my life by now. Why in the world would you want to continue living so that you could die somewhere down the road with no hope, possibly unexpectedly, possibly without saying goodbye to the few you held dear, to those many that made you laugh. But me? I’d plan it so that I knew what I wanted to say, I could say it eloquently, I could know how I died, and I could hurry up into the ground. I mean, the only reason you would have to stay alive is that you don’t know anything else to do. The evolutionist’s view of life as merely “being a link in the great chain of evolution” brings to my mind nothing but anger. You have billions of other links in the chain - my life, and frankly - hundreds of thousands of others means nothing to the evolutionary process.

And so we distract ourselves with comedy. Thousands of people come home from work downtrodden, probably only subconsciously realizing that they have nothing to live for - and have no other repose than Seinfeld or Friends. They turn on the tube, and turn off their brain. They shut out any thought that might even closely resemble intelligence - because intelligence, after all, requires a certain awareness of the bigger picture. And so they sit there, doing what they know how best to do - waste time. Waste time, and waste away until one day, there is none of you left to waste - and then you are done. But what better way to waste time than to do it with a smile on your face? I mean, c’mon - these things are funny - these people are funny - the completely fake situations they get thrown into are funny. And so we don’t realize what’s happening - for all intensive purposes, we’re “having a good time” - just cause there’s a smile on our face. But seriously, take your perspective up, beyond that situation, look at your life as a timeline, and realize what is going on. YOU ARE WASTING AWAY. And nobody cares - including yourself.

Comedy is the only thing left. Makes you enjoy the day, and even if you didn’t actually enjoy it, it makes you think you did. And what is the Christian’s response to comedy? Mixed - of course. Just like our response to drinking, smoking, dancing, and any other social situation that can harm, but in which we can also avoid harm. First, we say no - stop relying on comedy - stop wasting your life putting yourself in fake situations, living your life vicariously, through beautiful people with beautifully wasted minds. Rethink your life - rethink why in the world you would want to simply be a part of an evolutionary chain.

And yet - its good. Indulge in comedy. If I was a non-Christian, you would want me to indulge in it - or else I would be gone. I would have foregone the slow deterioration of my life, and snatched it up in one breath. Comedy might be the only thing keeping people alive from day to day - we’ll never know. And so it might be encouraged. We don’t really know what to do with our overindulgence in comedy. All we really know is that there is a reason for comedy being the centerpiece of our lives - all you have to do to realize this is put yourself in the shoes of a non-Christian for one day - you’ll understand. Because if we weren’t laughing - goodness knows we would be weeping.

(Afterthought: Comedy for Christians. I think it is vital for us as Christians to recognize that we often distract ourselves from our duties or from dangerous intraspection (dangerous to our worldly comforts) through the means of entertainment. Entertainment should be a release, a God-given relaxer, rather than the key aspect of our life. Entertainment should be the icing, but a meaningful life lived under the direction of God had best be our cake. God will give us the icing when we've given Him something to put it on.)

God, Humor, and the Sarcasm Club

2005-04-29T13:03:00.000-07:00

(Foreword: In order to understand this post, you're going to need to read the comments by "anonymous" on my blindside post - the two long ones near the end. These thoughts are, at least in part, a response to those comments.)

I wonder - is God pleased with humor? Does God laugh with us when our friend does something stupid? Does God have His own way of teasing, or is that merely a human invention? I wonder...

I wonder, anonymous, how far must that line that you are drawing go? I write this not necessarily to refute your arguments, just extrapolate them far enough out so that we can evaluate them outside of narrow or specific situations. The argument seems so easy as presented in your post - sarcasm "hurts", sarcasm "tears down", sarcasm - the home-wrecker. But I wonder if that isn't tilting the scales too far in your direction, if it isn't too much of a straw-man argument. Is that all sarcasm is - is all sarcastic humor "at the expense of another person" necessarily harmful? Sure sounds like it when you use a phrase like "at the expense of another person" huh?

Storytime: I have an unsaid friend here who is hilariously sarcastic (as are a lot of Wheaties). A couple of years back, me and Friend had a massive falling out - angered over gossip and other things. This year, me and Friend have become quite close again through talking, hanging out, and generally being funny. Our main form of discourse is sarcasm. And when I say sarcasm, I don't just mean "fun at the expense of others" sarcasm. A lot of the times we joke about funny life situations that are completely non-specific towards people. BUT, a lot of the time it is about people. And a ton of the time, it is about one or the other of us. We rip on each other all the time - quirks, actions, mistakes in grammar, clothes that don't match. Now, it is through that form of discourse that I have been reunited with this lost friend. I tell you this to give you a concrete example of a principle that I have heard many people (men especially, I'm sure) voice: sarcasm can do INFINITELY MORE than just "break down" and "hurt" - sarcasm is a language that can be extremely useful, and get this - helpful (yikes!) at times. So this is why I always got angered at those second grade teachers who explained away joking with the cliche, "You put other people down to make yourself look better" or the oft used "its a protective defense mechanism". Screw those students of Freud - most of the time when I make fun of someone, I'm doing it to show them attention and try to get them to smile - not because I have a subconscious with an inferiority complex. Any of my friends will tell you I make fun of those people that I like. And guess what? They make fun of me back. And I LOVE IT. Why? Because its funny - because it shows just how relaxed we are with each other and it MAKES us be vulnerable in front of each other. It saves us from the other extreme - uptight properness, turn-the-other-way-awkwardly every time someone does something stupid, guarded attitudes. And yes, I know that's the extreme. And no, I don't think that's what you (whoever you are) think is the way to go.

Here's the thing with sarcasm though - it is a social contract of sorts. And it is absolutely binding. If you engage in the act of sarcasm, you automatically become a member of the society. You have now forfeited any right you had to avoid being the center of a joke. This is not on paper somewhere - just like A Few Good Men, you're not going to be able to find this in a rulebook somewhere. This is an unspoken social contract. Like all contracts, this one can be broken. You can break this contract in two main ways: One - as a member of the Sarcasm Club (SC), you can ungraciously rip on those who have not made themselves a part of your game. This we call meanness - insensitivity - these are the jokes the true members refrain from laughing at. Not cool - rule break #1. Second - as an active member of the SC, you can take offense to being attacked with the same language you so frequently use. These are the people we refer to as those who can dish it out, but not take it. These are the worst players in the game - the overreactors - the dramatists - and I think we can all think of one or two names of these off the top of our head.

My point is this: the abuse of this social convention does not nullify its proper use - to steal a line from professor Jerry Root. The best part about your comment, anonymous, was that oh so small section you dedicated to what humor is actually supposed to look like: "I'm not suggesting that you should sacrifice humor and start sending people Hallmark cards with syruppy greetings, but I am suggesting that a truly humorous person should be able to be find humor in life without doing so at the expense of others. " This, my dear, is the rub. A truly humorous person CAN find humor in life without doing so at the "expense" of others - that's what makes him truly humorous. But what if, and maybe this is more of a guy thing, the humor towards others is not necessarily "at their expense". By that I mean, they lose nothing in the exchange. Thomas, Paul, Mikey, Josh, Enoch, Jon - I can list off tons of people who could come up to me and make jokes "at my expense" right now, and I would laugh out loud, probably smack them...somewhere, and make fun of them back. This language is a language of comfortability - a language of friendship that, clearly, is misunderstood by many.

I think this social contract has a lot to do with why, as you say, people don't like me upon first impression. Now this is a tough one - for a couple of reasons. First - you're right, I have had a reputation (I honestly don't know if I still do...) for making people not like me upon first impressions (I've heard from a lot of people recently that this isn't the case, though). This is due to my sarcastic attitude toward them - violating rule #1 in at least some of the cases. Why would I break this social contract? Good question - thanks for asking. Because I have often wrestled, and especially recently, about how I should act on first impressions. Should I be myself - the sarcastic kid - or be someone else and possibly be deceptive? Because I think we all know that the sarcastic kid is who I really am. I used to think that it was only right to be my natural self upon first impression - otherwise, am I not giving that person a false impression of myself? However, the reactions to that person are mixed - I immediately become friends with those people who are themselves sarcastic while alienating those people who think it is rude. Recently, I have taken a different approach. I try to be extremely nice (abnormally, probably, in my case) to those people I meet and gradually work in to the sarcasm thing. However, this also receives mixed reactions. This approach alienates no one (except those girls who think you're trying to hit on them) - but as these people get to know me better, they are gradually alienated by my sarcasm to my friends and feel lied to in a way by my initial actions. So what is the right approach? And at what point does this all break down and we have to start talking about those people with whom our personalities naturally work with as opposed to those with whom it is naturally at odds with. Cause I'm more than willing to concede and say that I am simply incompatible with certain people. At what point am I going to stop allowing others to mold my personality in an unhealthy way? Because, anonymous, at no point am I going to concede to you that sarcasm is inherently wrong, and therefore I would probably argue with you if you said that these people are necessarily shaping me into a better person.

No - going back quickly to the blindsided post, I would want a girl to tell me when I hurt her with my sarcasm. Then I know where she stands. Then I know not to make fun of her. Then I focus (hopefully) my sarcasm at those who will banter with me harmlessly.

And maybe that is why my friends, who know me well, say they enjoy me. Maybe its because they're in on the social contract. They know the modes of interaction, they are all expert players in the game. (By the way, at no point have I ever heard this articulated like this - so don't think guys think about this sarcasm thing in this social contract way - I just thought it was a helpful analogy.) Maybe its not because I act differently towards those close friends, or talk differently to them. Maybe they're my close friends because they can take my sarcasm. Maybe they're my close friends because I think they're freaking hilarious when they do their own ripping.

End notes: (1) Have I leaned on sarcasm for my identity when "my true identity doesn't seem adequate for the situation"? Yes, I think I have. I'm sure I would agree with you if I understood better what you're talking about - are you talking about when you are confronted with some awkwardness in yourself, and you respond through sarcasm OR when you're merely trying to interact with someone and decide to use sarcasm to try and seem funny and go-lucky when that is really just fake? Or something else? Either way - I'm sure I have been guilty. (2) I know that this post isn't confronting exactly what you're talking about - but I think there needs to be a forum for this humor debate that you dipped into. So many hearts have bled unnecessarily in the face of joking sarcasm- and guys and girls seem so different on this front - though I have met many a girl who knows this language oh so well (Donnelly, Demeo, Letch).

(3) MOST IMPORTANT: I totally realize that sarcasm becomes harmful at a point. Harmful to anyone - friends that have known you forever or complete strangers. That is the true danger of sarcasm. But I ask you, need we throw the baby out with the bathwater? As you said - we don't need to sacrifice humor entirely, just humor "at the expense of others". If that line is unclear - as it is a lot of the times, and especially with those whom you don't know so well - must we tread so far away from it? Does the idea of the weaker brother come in here at all (thought that is probably the wrong exegesis of that text)? Is this just one more annoying occurrence of the Golden Mean being the right way to go?

The good thing about a subject such as this is that everyone has intimate experience of it. I'm curious to see where this goes, and especially what my friends have to say on the subject. One more thing - I'm thinking about not allowing anonymous posts on my blog anymore, simply because of the frustration it brings to those trying to address the person and not knowing whom we are addressing. So, all you anonymouses (ha ha - mouses) out there, sign your name and just take care of the problem for me. Thanks.

40! and more...

2005-04-26T18:05:00.000-07:00

Wow. Well, the discussion continued(s) on the "blindsided" entry. The last two or three comments were especially riveting if you haven't read them yet. And anytime a discussion gets to 40 comments, there is at least something interesting to talk about. One important thing...if you're going to make a comment, especially one that is personally scathing, I think you should leave your name. Posting advice or thoughts under anonymity is more than acceptable, though not preferred, but if you want to pull the punches, at least have the decency to sign your name to the note. Very Roman Centurion of you - very uncool.

This just in: dancing ROCKS. I truly believe that there is no greater release for tension and stress than to just let loose on a dance floor to a pounding beat. Seriously - I'm not talking about dirty dancing at all - we went dancing on Saturday night and avoided all that extra crap. It was just a blast to go out with guys who know how to dance and rip up the dance floor. I felt like I liberated an inner dancing soul that had been in bondage for far too long.

On to even more pleasant things. I'm PUMPED to be coming home in three weeks. I can't wait to see you guys and hang out all summer. And this just in - if you go to a school far away from home, graduating sucks. Sitting here knowing that I won't see a good portion of these people ever again rips me up, and it makes me want to run around for the last two weeks and hug everybody that I've ever hung out with here. At the same time, it also makes me want to spend all my free time with my close friends who I won't see for a long time. argh. So little time, so much love to show. I'm kinda glad I get to be in like four weddings this summer, that's the best post-college way to get together with your old friends, and its always such a joyous occasion anyway. (sigh, sniffle). OK - I think maybe I'll post a scary picture or two next time, maybe of me and my roommates holding assault rifles - crazy. Until then, though, I leave you with this:

Apathetic Lover

I bleed; you frown I run; you walk
I eat; you nibble I weep; you cry
I walk; you drag I sing; you hum
I cheer; you watch I scream; you talk

Your beauty sucks my breath away
And I’m sure it always will
It’s too bad I got to know you
And swallow your suicide pill

I choke and gasp; it’s in there -
Draining my life away,
I’m beginning to act just like you
No wonder I have nothing to say

You’re always acting so proper -
Legs crossed, arms folded, fake smile
I’m only seeing this rigid side
I’m only prompting that crap fake smile

I tease you to get your reaction,
Tempting the turtle from its shell -
A flash of red, and off snaps my head
And you return again to your well.

So now I’m caught in the pit
And hating the path that brought me
I hate this smell at the bottom
And more the unscaleable rock all around

Why can’t you just ever let loose?
Fight me or love me or cry
You know, one day you won’t have the chance -
Someday we all must die.

I wonder, when your day comes,
What will you look back and see?
No joy, no hate, no love, no heart
And you died still holding the key.

A little relaxation...

2005-04-22T02:14:00.000-07:00

Well - that was fun. Thanks to all of you for joining in that interesting discussion - I'm sure there's more to come on that subject. If you are looking for a nice informed response to the blindside discussion, READ THE LAST COMMENT, made by an older anonymous individual. I like the distinction she makes (that I should have made) between counselors of comparable age and life-experience to older and wiser mentor types. Definitely a crucial and helpful distinction.

Now, I'm going to back off that a little and just return to normality on this blog, a little poetry. Oh yeah - a little informational sidenote - due to questions from Thomas, my dad, and other friends of mine, I'd just like to make sure you know that these poems are not all fresh. Some of these I wrote a while ago and am just sharing with you as I see fit. Others I have written very recently in order to apply to specific situations - however, unless I decide to share the date of the poem, I'll just let you guess as to which is the case.

Trust and Other Pronouns

You say that It’s no big deal and
You say that It’s only natural and
You think It shouldn’t deter us.
But I don’t think you know
What It is exactly
And I think you’ve forgotten
That It is really all there is.

All your encouraging words
And reassuring relationship clichés
Can’t possible serve to
Fill the hole that
Was made the night you lost It.

We had made up so much ground,
Crossed the frozen tundra of regret
And met at the (hot) springs of renewal –
Only feet left between us.

But then your gait wavered
And like Orpheus you looked back -
Too worried that joy may find you
You sought the paranoid and dramatic

Like a frantic and scared animal you scampered around,
looking for a way out of these springs -
Then you realized what It was
And you bombed Old Faithful.

The small space between us
Became a gap blinding in its depth
And frightening in its width
And the void reeks of confusion

And, like always, the rabies wears off
The animal returns to her beautiful state
And calls to me from across the void
And I listen.

But your words and your apologies
Can’t wipe the mushroom cloud from my mind
And that bridge you’re building
Is too slow to overtake my fear

If I joined you in building,
We could meet in the middle soon -
But I’m afraid that you’ve got
More dynamite in your pocket
And if we make it to the middle,
You might blow up the bridge.

So I will return from this reeking chasm
I will run wholeheartedly back
Into the frozen tundra where
Thoughts of us belong.
And I’ll try not to think of you
Building your bridge of tears.

Blindside

2005-04-18T23:43:00.000-07:00

(Disclaimer: Again, you have to WANT to read this to read it - it is
extremely long and may get boring and repetitive. And then again, maybe not.)

You know what I love about females? And by love, I mean abhor with all of the energy my soul has, by the way. I “love” their ability to absolutely blindside you. It’s like they are all expert semi-driving assassins with the ability to cross the median of a relationship and crunch into your small sedan and break it in two. And for all you know, you were just driving the speed limit on a normal traffic day.

The suddenness is really the most brutal part of the whole process. Honestly, there are times when there is NO WARNING whatsoever – none at all. And that, my friends, is just plain ridiculous. Moodiness is one thing – Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde even, on a bad day – but nothing exempts the female assassin behind the wheel.
I don’t know if all of you readers out there have experienced what I’m talking about – for the sake of understanding this essay, I’m hoping you have – but for the sake of your well-being, I’m hoping you have been able to avoid it.

Here’s what I’m talking about: I’m talking about you acting normally. The same you always act around a particular girl, or even groups of girls – cause believe you me, this can also come in group form. Now, it is important for the attitude of this rant that the male is actually doing everything the same – if not, that makes the whole deadly accident less ridiculous. So what I am addressing here is random verbal outlashings from females toward males. About nothing out of the ordinary. I’m talking about girls suddenly having serious problems here – often included in this is the befuddled/disappointed look that we as guys just LOVE to get from you girls, and often tears of sadness. And we are left speechless.

Sometimes, we find out that you’ve been having problems with us for months. MONTHS. Seriously, this happens. Seriously. Are you kidding me? If you have a problem with the way I act, or my personality, or the jokes I make – tell me. Cause if you store it up, it’s coming up and out of that heart at the worst possible time – and you know it. Sometimes I feel like they’re intentionally storing up the mistakes for a good time to drop it all on you at once. Like a freaking ACME anvil on Wile E. Coyote’s head. It just drops us. And that is, pure and simple (as a famous person likes to say), unfair. It quite simply is. And if you are sitting there reading this, and thinking to yourself as a female that it’s ok to hold back until the right time, it’s not. God didn’t take a rib from us so that you could beat us over the head with it when we’re not looking.

We know we can be stupid. Very stupid. Don’t think we don’t know that. But what we need is to be walked through the process. You have got to tell us continually – you see the start of a bad pattern of behavior – you pull as aside and talk to us about it. #1 – You don’t do it in front of other people. #2 – You do it soon after, so we have some recollection of what the heck you are talking about. The soon after is very important so that (a) we remember, (b) we don’t make the same mistake multiple times and really piss you off, (c) you don’t harbor it and let it fester in your mind, (d) you don’t have the chance to “discuss” it with others, and (e) you don’t give us time to think about how to justify our actions and get out of it.

But that’s not all we’re talking about. We’re also talking about the blindsides that have nothing to do with actions you may think are inherently bad (a.k.a. picking on you, disrespecting you as a woman, not being encouraging enough, etc.). We’re especially talking about getting blindsided going the speed limit on the highway. We are especially talking about you and your doubting our character or intentions. Your endless questioning behind our backs about how we are living our lives and the choices we are making. Are these questions bad? Actually, yes – if you’re saying them to anyone but us. They are poison in a friendship/relationship. That lack of trust builds in you when you question us silently, sometimes so slowly you don’t pay it any attention. The biggest danger, however, is that it takes place inside your head or in small groups of girls. If you hear about us doing something suspect, which you inevitably will, you better either ask us about it or shut the flying heck up. Cause goodness knows your girlfriends don’t need to know about it. And goodness knows you don’t need four analytical brains picking apart something you heard or thought you saw or conjectured from what you saw. If you doubt us, doubt us to our faces. I’ll be honest – we respect the ones that do that. I respect the girl that talks to me about something she heard about me – even if its true and even if it makes me feel awkward as heck to confront that mistake/sin in front of the girl – I respect that. The world could use a lot more of it. You know why? Because there is no danger in it. If you confront us about something and endure the possible awkwardness, two things can come about. One – the mature guy says thank you and tells you the truth about the situation. Two – the immature guy becomes defensive and lashes out at you. That guy is someone you don’t even need to worry about – know that he is immature. If you come to us, giving us the benefit of the doubt by facing us, we must respect you.

But I loathe the women who whisper amongst themselves. I am incensed at the treachery that goes on behind the backs of innocent men – for any reason. If you doubt me – question my integrity to my face. Put the ball in my court. And may God give me the honesty to confront the problem head-on. But the moment I hear from someone else about you and so-and-so talking about the fact that I have a problem with gambling or drinking or that I throw like a girl – my heart shuts down to you. And I want to punch you in the ovaries – right in the baby-maker.

Sorry – back to the blindside. What kills me more than anything is that moment. That moment where the girl takes a deep breath, looks at you with her pious eyes, and the accusations start to drop. And along with it goes your jaw. It’s that first moment where you realize exactly what she is saying that your heart sinks and you feel like you need to find a barfbag quick – not necessarily for the vomit, but to hold the internal organs she just ripped out of your body. Let’s say, hypothetically, this has happened to me about four times – hypothetically. Every single time, I’ve been so filled with anger that my temples start pounding immediately with my attempts to hold back from punching a wall. Imagine how mad you would be if you walked in on your sister being taken advantage of. That’s the type of anger it is. Because we are defenseless. It cuts as deep as possible – through that surface level, through even the heart, and right into the soul. When you question our character, when you spread gossip about possible sin and malign our reputation, what you are destroying is us – in public, while we are utterly vulnerable. And once it is out there, there is no coming back. Do you know how long it takes to get back a reputation? Two minutes can destroy two years. And that is the darn truth. What power there is in words! And how slicing are our character judgments! It doesn’t get any deeper than that. That moment may be simultaneously the weakest and strongest point for a man. You have cut his emotions down to their weakest – his heart feeling like an overly heavy ankle weight and his mind reeling. But at that point, I dare you to throw a ravenous lion at him. That man will rip it to shreds.

And this, girls, may be the way you can tell the difference between a man wrongly accused and a man caught in sin. The man caught in sin will be defensive – excuses may flow, backpedaling is sure to occur, and there is going to be a lot of sad-looking silence. But it is not so with the wrongly accused. He will not be defensive, he will be offensive - and offended. He will come back at you – there are most definitely gonna be some “what the heck?”s and maybe even some “are you freaking kidding me?”s. The last time this happened to me – I won’t say when – I wanted to simultaneously walk out of the room, furiously throw up, and punch a hole through three brick walls and a slab of concrete. Betrayed, stabbed in the back, and left to the better judgment of people who have already shown bad judgment in listening to you. It doesn’t get much worse than that. All because you wouldn’t get off your butt and confront an awkward situation. Gossip is poison. Keeping a record of wrongs – or especially a record of accusations or “perspectives” – is the fastest way to kill a relationship possible.

What’s always interesting for me to think through after one of these debriefings – I call it that because its like you pulled the pants off our character in front of a mocking crowd – is how you guys lasted this long? How could you possibly keep these things in the back of your mind – all of these wrongs and all of these suspicions – and still maintain a relationship with us? How could you see us in the hall, smile, and say hello everyday for the past two months? How could you have had deep conversations with us, and believed what we said, or not brought this up? How in the world do you look at me everyday with those horrible thoughts stewing in your horrible head? That makes everything seem so much more fake when you actually do choose to blindside me. That makes me disrespect you all the more. I’d even prefer you showing me disdain for whatever it is you disdain me for through silent body language – ignore me, avoid me, give me really bad looks from across the room. But the worst you can do is pretend to be my friend, talk about me behind my back, and then talk to me with the pretense that you are just trying to help me out and you’re really doing me a favor.
That’s all I’ve got. Sorry this is so dang long. Peace out.

P.S. I like girls. Really, I do. And believe me when I say that I realize that guys are horrible too. We all suck.

Rocks for Jocks

2005-04-13T00:14:00.000-07:00

Well, I just spent the last thirty minutes or so trying to figure out how to post pictures on this dang thing - but I totally got rejected. In lieu of the amazing pictures I was gonna post, and because I want to hold off on this 3-page rant on girls (surprise) that I wrote this week, I'm gonna give you a little treat. I present you with the first four poems I ever wrote - in geology class freshmen year of college. Funny how you get started on things like this, eh? Pure boredom drives you to explore some interesting things...

Beautiful Girl
I look at you across the room
If you turned to me, I’m sure I’d swoon
And probably fall out of my chair -
Make a scene, make everyone stare.

But when I fall, it would be my doom,
Boredom over my head would loom,
For one big reason, you might assume,
I’m staring at you from across the room.

Rocks are Dumb
I hate the kid behind me,
I hate his loud, dumb laugh
I hate this kid behind me,
I wish he would pass out.

The Structure of “Structure”
It starts with the hiss of the snake, and continues with most of a tree.
A fourth of a jump, half a pact, and now we’re down to three.
But near the end, it starts to falter, it starts to lose its allure,
For at the end we see the word turns out to be partly manure.

Yo-Yo
I feel like a freaking yo-yo People suck, or people are cool,
And my life is like the string Classes suck, or classes suck.
Sometimes I feel like dying I want to get off this freaking string,
And sometimes I feel like living I want my life to be a constant thing
Is it stuff that’s wrong inside me, I want to be able to smile and sing,
Or is it stuff going on around me? I want to get off this freaking thing.

I thought that was pretty funny when I looked back on it the other day. My personal fave is definitely Rocks Are Dumb - short, sweet, and to the point. Hopefull you guys get the structure poem - cause I remember the people I was sitting next to in class didn't understand it. Oh well - by the way, thanks for all the comments - it made that a lot of fun, and I felt really cool for a couple days. Much appreciated. Hope you all have a good day tomorrow in school, while I'm skipping to go to a Cubs game! Ha ha ha ha. Senioritis is slowly taking over....

A Weekend of Tragic Aristotelian Romance

2005-04-09T00:07:00.000-07:00

(Prologue: You know how you always sit in class and say to yourself, "there's no way in HECK I'm going to need to know this in the real world"? Well, I'm here to tell you something.....you're right pretty much every time you think that. However, in a rare case such as the following, some random high school knowledge can be fun...thanks Mrs. Hanson and Junior English.)

Three days of release
After years of tension.
The wait was worth it,
The months of struggle
A mere background for present joy.

All the more sweet after all the hardship.
Your strength looks even more
Strong after your weakness.
And having seen your timidity,
Your boldness looks all the more sexy.

I used to be afraid of you
But three days changed all that.
I used to have to perform,
But now I feel like I
Am sitting with you in the audience.
As we watch our story play out
On the grandest of stages.

I don’t know how it ends,
This play known as life.
I only know that for now I am the hero,
And you my heroine.
In true form, we must overcome our tragic flaws,
According to true form, the plot twists
Like a Bunyan trail – sometimes dark and sometimes miry,
But always leading to salvation.

The problem now is that we know not our role
In resolving this conflict.
We are merely script-less players in this drama,
We could ask those looking in what will happen,
But they know only what we do.
The dramatic irony applies only to our
Grandest audience member.

All we know so far is that
We have been led through conflicts before.
Our cathartic wanderings
Have not been in vain.
They have led us to this place on the stage –
This scene where we stand, looking at each other,
Speaking lines we knew not that we knew.

The twists seem so directionless,
Your exit from this stage so
Destructive to the plot.
How can the hero be without his heroine?

And what comes next?
Am I supposed to run off the stage after you,
Or do you return in a future scene?
Is my faith my tragic flaw?
Am I too Calvinist for this playwright?
I am caught now, frozen between
Action and blind faith – fearing that
Neither will lead me back into your arms.

And so I stand, frozen
In the center of the stage.
The lights are on,
The audience is captive,
And it is my line….
What is it?
I don’t know – but even as I stand waiting,
The play continues all around me.

We have the elements of the tragedy
Well in hand. But are we that weak?

Am I that foolish?

(Postlogue: On the following blog test, you may choose to answer one of two questions: (1) How many aspects of Aristotelian tragedy can you identify in the poem? or (2) Did you like it?)

Regeneration

2005-04-05T22:38:00.000-07:00

(Warning - insanely long post. Not for the faint of heart or attention span. If you want the dumbed-down version, skip to the asterisks.)

Once, when speaking to a good friend of mine from K-State, Dean Behrens, he offered me a bit of insight that is definitely not unique, but a good reminder for me at the time. We were discussing why it was that though we are/have been in a Christian environment surrounded by good people advocating good morals in a good and healthy way, we become lazy and pathetic Christians. Though we are surrounded at every turn by God, we seem to be able to avoid Him in all the necessary ways. This happens all the time at private schools, churches, and with generally "sheltered" people.

Dean's comment was that the problem is simply a lack of outlet. After receiving so much input from so many good sources, we eventually become overloaded. We sit there with all of our useful knowledge, helpful acrostics, and perfectly applicable memorized Bible verses - and that's it. We put down on all the right answers on the Bible tests, we say the right words to our Christian mentors when they ask us how our walk is going. But inside we are dead. We have no spiritual joy and no fervor for the things of God. I think it is pretty safe to say that almost every CPLS'er/Wheatonite/Cornerstone/Bethel/whatever private school you can think of/ student has experienced this decaying of their faith.

This is not to say that public schoolers have a leg up, though. See - they have a little bit of the opposite problem. Their main source of Christian input comes only once a week, twice if they are in Bible studies. And don't even pretend that you're getting all you need from the church services. It is impossible for a Sunday morning to meet all the needs of the congregation. The publis schoolers have all the opportunity for output they could possibly want - but a lot of the time they don't have enough input to know how to act in their "in-but-not-of-the-world" daily situations. And thus many of them are regulated to the simple "I don't drink - I'm a Christian" rule-based faith that seems extremely unattractive to the unbeliever in the public setting.

No - what would be best - what always seems to be the best in every moral and ethical and theological and philosophical debate is......that's right......the middle road. What I needed when I talked to Dean on the phone was a source for output - a ministry or three - a couple of consistent non-Christian friends that I could hang out with and pour into - mentoring kids. ANYTHING. Anything to make all those things I was learning become real to me. Bring them to life. Make my devotions a time where I NEEDED to be filled up, because I had poured out the day before. And all of us CPLS'ers and Wheatonites and etc. know that this is the easiest thing to fall into in the world. How easy is it to hang out only with your friends - all Christians - with those you're around 24-7? And how easy is it to go throughout a day, a week, a lifetime even (see: my life) without being surrounded by people you HAD to pour into. Input overload, output insufficiency.

I don't think I need to draw an extended application - I'm sure you can all do the dirty work yourselves. To make it brief: If you're in a Christian environment getting poured into - find a source of output. If your spiritual life seems dead and you can't figure out why because everything around you - friends, family, teachers - is sooo Christian, don't worry, we've been there before. Find something to do with your charged faith and charge it. And if you're in the opposite setting, surrounded by people needing input 0 find a reliable and consistent source of input. And make sure that its not just your personal devos. While they are probably the most consistent/reliable source you're gonna need some serious human involvement here. See the paragraph below for more on human involvement...

***Originally, I wrote this post to tell all my Topeka Friends how much I love them - and then it turned into this sermon-ish thing. Sorry. Now I will draw the connection. What output/ministry is for my Christian life is what Topeka is for my social well-being. I come to Topeka tired - I really do. Wheaton is a completely different place. Not to bash it - but imagine a world full of academics who are always right and most of whom (this is no lie) spend their evenings doing homework when given the option to go to a college sporting event or hang out with friends or win a million dollars. So I am, quite frankly, socially tired a lot of the times.
And Topeka is my regeneration. I find love in T-town. And I always come back in an amazing mood. The love and fellowship I experience in Topeka is just absolutely unmatched. My friends up here know exactly what I'm talking about. They come back from hanging out with my friends, and they can see why I still talk to all of my high-school friends, while they keep in touch with almost NO ONE from high school/home. Are you listening to this, Topekans (and especially CPLS'ers)? What we have is freaking unique. We come home to an amazing community. Others merely have memories.

So thank you. Thank you for the bowling, for the cards, for the attendance at the wedding, for the dances, and for the love. I am again a new man.

And I'll post a poem next time. Sorry, I'm slacking.

The Waking Point

2005-03-28T23:37:00.000-08:00

It was one of those days today.

You know the ones I’m talking about. For weeks and weeks your life slides by, you live in joy for the most part with those surrounding you – with your friends, your family, your roommates. And even if it’s not exactly an active joy, at least it is peace. At least you can see them and know full well that you are welcome and that things are good.

And then you have a day like today. You have a day where those same people that you have gotten along so well with suddenly no longer get along with you. You have a day when you fight. And the crazy thing about these days is that most of the time, what hasn’t happened for weeks and weeks happens more than once in the same day. It piles up on you all at once just to make sure you notice its crappiness – your crappiness.

Your friends get angry at you for something you said (even if its just the same kind of thing you’ve always said), you’re playing sports and you blow up or someone blows up because of you. There is no longer a laugh after your joke making fun of your friends. Just blank stares and the hint of pain.

Its days like these when your life sucks. When suddenly everything that Calvin said seems so right. You are forced to face up again to your utter depravity. You are forced to realize that even the peace of men is not peace if it is not firmly founded in a deeper spiritual peace. The cordiality among friends has a dying point – and that point is the “waking point”. It’s that point that snaps you back to a gross reality. You may be able to subvert it for weeks at a time, people may be able to put up with it to a certain extent, and everything may seem great and you think your life couldn’t be any more fun. And then you realize that some of those people were just humoring you, some were slowly getting more and more annoyed by you, and others can see so clearly those faults in you that it embarrasses you to realize you’ve been glossing over them for weeks.

And that was today.

The Precious Daydream

2005-03-26T13:58:00.000-08:00

(A.K.A. Doug in class)

The air is damp and heavy,
Sheets rustling, clock slowly ticking -
Far away a low voice is thumping,
Beating on my brain while
Thoughts swirl in a tornado of sound and
Fury, signifying nothing.
Here and then, the thoughts unify as
The beating voice in front speaks louder, or
Maybe says something interesting.
Here we find everything - a couple
Seats away, the future Lumberjack
Association of America meets in not-so-quiet -
While up there 12 little secretaries are hard
At work in dictation practice.

There are cramps, headaches, runny
Noses, fevers, and itchy places that
Can’t be scratched - all stifled
For the sake of the voice.
Slowly the clock drones on, the
Voice echoing in rhythm - the heads bobbing in unison
The lumberjacks, hard at work,
Gain a couple more members,
As the number of secretaries
Begins to dwindle.

The dampness crowds you and
Rests upon you like a slow weight -
Pushing you into dreams of
Different places - better places,
And there you are at peace -
Floating in nothingness.
Waking comes with zippers zipping
And bags packed - off to the next daydream.

It's about darn time

2005-03-22T22:03:00.000-08:00

Is anybody still terribly depressed about the KU game? Oh......me neither. Anyhow, I don't really have anything extremely interesting to say - just decided it was probably time for me to post again. So here's another crappy, love-infested poem:

The Fallen

Who are you?
The girl I knew
Knew how to forgive.
The one I remember
Remembered to forget.

Who are you?
You clearly aren’t
The one who seemed so true
True to God, to me
To you.

Who are you?
Or what have you become?
That all about you
Seems so wrong.
Your teeth always hiding,
Face upside-down -
I never remember
Seeing that hate.

Who are you now?
That I can’t
Recognize your face.
You’ve lost your friends,
Your touch, your grace.
Out of the ashes
A beast did arise
And instead of your smile
You now wield your eyes.
Instead of forgiveness
Resentment controls you,
You die in the past
While the present awaits you.

Sharks and more

2005-03-15T22:39:00.000-08:00

You know what I don't get? How people get sharked for cash. How do they not see this coming?

For instance, let's say you're playing a friendly game of pool - 2$ a game. The shark lets you win a couple games, maybe even four or five. At this point he turns to you and says, "Hey, wanna raise the wager?" Seriously......if you can't see this coming, you should just jump butt first onto the pool cue. What rational creature decides, after he has been beaten four straight games, to RAISE the stakes so as to inevitably lose more money? Who does this? In my experience, after about three losses, the loser does a little butt-pucker and either walks away or cuts the wager.

I say, if you get sharked, you deserve what's coming to you.

**Begin subliminal message** (Thomas, Craig, and Mikey want to come up to Chicago for Spring Break. Thomas, Craig, and Mikey want to come up to Chicago for Spring Break. Thomas.....) ** End subliminal message**

And a quickie poem:

Misconception

You think that I’m strong,
You’re wrong, you’re wrong.
All my hard-shelled words
And those dagger-piercing looks
Come down to me, wanting you.

You come around and my tongue freezes up -
Like I made out with an icy pole
I stutter and mumble, trying to impress
While you stare through me at the next pretty dress
And put on that fake smile and wait

So I burn, lusting for your true attention -
The ice melts and my tongue moves quickly,
Slicing and cutting you blindly
And now you stop, and now you listen -
No fake smiles - just real tears.

You think that I’m strong,
You’re wrong, you’re wrong
All these sharpened words
And poisoned stares
Come down to me, wanting you.

Spring Break Update

2005-03-10T16:57:00.001-08:00

For those of you wondering why I haven't been posting lately - I don't care. But for those of you who really don't care that I haven't been posting lately and just happened to drop by, this update is for you. :) Except for you Thomas - for you, anything.

I have just acquired a magnificent sunburn laying out on the gorgeous Miami beach on what turned out to be a PERFECT day - 80, cloudless and with a constant light breeze. I honestly could not have imagined a better day. For thos of you angry about my perfect weather and better life than yours right now - just think, your spring break is right around the corner and I'll be stuck in my dumb city where it is currently snowing.

Spring Break has straight up rocked my casbah. Our car broke down 5 hours into our 24 hour drive, and I mean broke down. The damage to the tranny totaled the dang thing. We were stuck in podunk Illinois with no one to turn to, no way to get out, and down $100 dollars from the tow job (hm....) and the hotel room. I was about three seconds away from crying. About 50 Wheatonites were headed down to Florida, saw us on the road and pulled over - but none of them had room for us. How very Innskeeper-in-Bethlehem of them. I decided to call my friend whose house we were supposed to be staying at and informed him of our situation. Ahoy! He told us that his friends, whom we were planning on hanging out with for a day or two hadn't left yet - and would be leaving in about an hour. So we phoned these guys we didn't know very well and begged awkwardly for them to pick us up on their way down to Florida.

And that is how the greatest week of my life started. Pure tragedy turned into immeasurable joy. 6 hours later, 6 guys in an old-school 7-seater van with a deer skull mounted on the grill pull up, blasting 80's rock. I just smiled from ear to ear. Leaving behind the car and half of our trip belongings, we piled into the van - which already smelled oh so foul. And then I saw it - the all-redeeming factor, the thing that would keep me busy for countless hours of driving - the mounted television hooked up to an XBox and DVD/VCR player. I was overjoyed. The 26 hours we ended up spending on the road were an absolute BLAST. No joke - I think I might like 80's music now - its all these guys listen to. And they are straight-up hilarious. They take analogies to a ridiculous length, drawing them out and making short stories out of them so preposterous they make one wet oneself.

I am also currently addicted to 24. Thank you very much, Seth Simmons for that. It has been a rewarding waste of time - I have gotten much closer to one or two fellas on this trip (yes, I brought it with me) simply by watching it with them and looking forward to it every day.

The best day so far was probably the first real day in Miami - we pulled up at 1 on the morning in pitch black to a random beach in Englewood, FL - got the sleeping bags out, and snuck on to the "private" beach. We had arrived - gorgeous weather that night, gorgeous stars, and the gorgeous sound of the beach lulling us to sleep. Of course, 45 minutes later I awoke freezing, and went and slept in the van - but that's not important. We awoke at sunrise - 7:30 the next day and proceeded to do nothing on the beach all day. A ton of people ended up coming to the beach that day and leaving, but we were there at the beginning, and we waited to leave until we saw the sun set on the ocean almost 12 hours later. We played football, laid out, and I rented a sweeeeet scooter for the day and drive around what turned out to be a little island off the coast of Florida. Ah-mazing. There are very few things, if anything, that have made me giggle like a schoolgirl as much as riding around a small palm-tree riddled island studded with celebrity mansions and cool beaches on a HOT yellow moped. It was one of the best feelings I've ever had. Do it.

(Side note: Its interesting that the funnest things in life are the things you discover on your own, or stumble across by some moving of the providential Will. It would not have been that impressive if we had showed up to that beach at 12 after getting directions. But to stumble upon that beach at 1 in the morning and have it turn out to be a beautiful beach and beautiful place, you just felt like you were the luckiest person in the world. And I took a chance with the scooter, shelled out some cash, and prayed that I could drive it. Turns out, it was one of the best decisions in my life - though it would have merely been awesome had someone else taken that step of faith instead of me. Just interesting how that works, huh?)

And there's more - but I realize this blog is getting ridiculously long, so I will leave you with that. I hope that you all have a spring break as rewarding and relaxing as mine has been - love to my homies.

Soy Milk

2005-03-04T09:32:00.000-08:00

(I was gonna explain this one, but then figured that it would be funnier/weirder if I didn't.)

Katie had a little milk
Its hue was brown as poo.
And everywhere that Katie went
The poo wanted to go too.

Katie went to IKEA to hang,
And the poor poo felt left out -
And just as Christian leaned in for love
The poo let out a shout.

So Katie told the poo to go -
It walked away dejected
But as the poo slid slowly away
Katie sat and reflected….

About the good times that they had
About the time she flushed his dad
About the smell that made her heave,
And suddenly, he couldn’t leave!

So Katie ran after the poo she loved -
That dirty poo she knew so well
But dear old Katie ran too fast,
Squished the poo and sent it to heaven.

The Ledger

2005-02-26T01:47:00.000-08:00

My head pounding from the pain
I can’t tell if its you or my thoughts

2100 miles
36 hours driving
1 speeding ticket
$250 - or two weeks’ pay
1,000,000 thoughts about how good it might be

Parallels nicely with

0 excitement
0 emotion
1 ticket to slow down and
1,000,000 questions on how it all went wrong

Fancy letters and fancy words
Touched my lips from afar
A kiss blown on the wind
Sealed with a stamp
And saved in every heartbeat

I’m on the other side now -
My road has led me 2100 miles and
Over the hill to the other side
But the promise of green was deceit
And how can I think your words were anything more?

I know you’re not accustomed to this
I know you don’t know how to speak or what to say
But if actions speak a thousand words
You’ve said no a thousand times,
And you’ve said more than enough.

Loneliness HAS to be the worst feeling ever...

2005-02-22T19:30:00.000-08:00

Playing my heart strings
Like you’re wailing carelessly on a guitar
But my strings break easy under the strain
Weakened by past dirges

The song you play now has frayed them to the breaking point
A confusing melody, mysterious and hidden
Never steady, never repeating - not like the slow
Of the tide but as a storm beating the sky.

My heart cannot play it
For it cannot understand it
And no longer can I let you wail away,
For you have broken too much already

I am a tired instrument,
Used and out of tune,
Only to be thrown out -
You cannot retune me,
For love has broken the strings,

And you have been its player.

The Christian’s Homework

2005-02-14T12:27:00.000-08:00

Driving home from Julie’s lake house today (3/1/03) with the guys, I spent some time meditating on life, the past, and what God thinks of me. Due mainly to the recent e-mail from ****** and reading Wild at Heart, my meditation was filled with ruined opportunities in the past and what God could possibly have in store for me for the future. And I thought of what God would say to me when I go to heaven.

Enoch was sitting next to me, talking to the others about homework and teachers and extra credit, and so my mind wandered there. And then I couldn’t help but make a connection. Enoch was talking about the daily routine of putting off homework to perform some other menial task or play some Nintendo game. I thought about that feeling you get when you’re doing that other task - that deep sense of guilt like you’re not where you’re supposed to be. It plagues the mind, and always sours whatever activity you’re pretending to savor at that moment. No activity can be quite enjoyed like it can after a day of hard work and productivity when no future deadline is looming over your head, or you’ve worked as hard as you could that day to get closer to accomplishing the task at hand. When you get better at procrastinating and explaining and making up excuses, the guilt begins not to bother you so much. And then comes the day of reckoning. You are sitting in class, and the teacher asks you a question, and you gave that pathetic answer. And you know by the look in their eye that they know. They know you haven’t read it - they know you haven’t dedicated the time they asked you to dedicate to the assignment, and that feeling of guilt returns, and brings with it the final sensation of failure. Or maybe it comes only once you’ve seen the grade, or sat in front of the disappointed parent. Whenever and however it comes, it comes surely. It is as inescapable as air.

And I thought, so it is with Christians. Christians too are appointed with a task - we are given an assignment, and we are to dedicate ourselves and our time to performing it. The problem with this assignment is that the day of reckoning is so far off. With our homework, we know we can procrastinate - we know we have just this amount of time before we stand before the exam and regurgitate whatever it was we crammed into ourselves. However, without the pressure of a deadline, the Christian life is so much easier put off. We surround ourselves with the meaningless - we feast on the inconsequential. We get so distracted with life that we forget to live. And somewhere, at least at some point, that prick of guilt came hard and fast. We looked up, and saw how far from the task we were. We stood on the sidelines of the big game, and from some unknown bleacher came the call, “Look around you. These people are distracted - they are all, every one of them procrastinating. You are procrastinating.” And we sit there, awake for the first time in a long time, and we realize - all that we allow to consume our numbered days is meaningless. The only thing that we should be doing is our homework. None of this is truly satisfying, because deep down in that guilt that every human, Christian or atheist, feels at some point we realize that we’re not accomplishing what we were appointed to do. And the thoughts come, and the life sours just thinking about the abandoned responsibilities. The voice comes again, “Some will be distracted to death. Some will never have the courage to face that guilt and find out why it is there and what it means. And you are too distracted to tell them.”

And we embrace the guilt. For a short time. And then we hurt from the pain, and we forget that there is joy on the other side, and we turn back. Not wanting to be faced with reality, the ultimate reality of what we know will someday take place - we turn away again.

And then the time is up. Now you have to walk into that classroom and take that test. And you haven’t read a thing. The day of reckoning calls, and you can no longer avoid ultimate reality, for it is upon you. The Teacher opens wide the door for you - and sweeps you up in His embrace. He cries, “I love you! I love you! I love you, my child.” And He holds you in His arms. And when at last He sets you back down, His tear-stained eyes look to the open door behind you. And He asks, “Did you not bring anyone else with you?”

And you weep. You weep uncontrollably, for you have failed your God. You got sucked up into the distractions. You forgot your assignment. You repressed the righteous guilt. And the day of reckoning has come.

Reconciliation (and Truth)

2005-02-12T01:07:00.000-08:00

The black of a thousand shadows surrounds me,
Holding me captive, in fear to move for fear of
What I cannot see. Sweat trickles, muscles
Tense, body rigid. Then it comes. It brings
With it the chilling air of death and decay. It’s
Breath freezes the sweat on my skin, the stench
Nauseating my head, my stomach heaves with
Fear. It circles me - I can hear it rustling
In the black. His icy breath breaks on my neck,
And runs down my spine, shaking my body.
This makes him laugh.

His low voice transforms to a high shriek, piercing my ears and
Breaking my will. My knees weaken - I fall.
My upper body rigid, I hit my knees,
And then my face. Blood. Blood and gravel and
Sweat mix on my face - the smell of decay and
The concoction of death. His shriek grows louder,
My body convulsing, I spit blood out to breathe.
I pray for death, for energy, to do it myself,
Or for this phantasm to have mercy on my soul.

Another scent now reaches my nostrils, a familiar scent,
A glimmer of hope enters my heart. Can it be? Yes,
The moisture does not lie. The high shriek stops, then begins again,
not in its usual mockery -
But in the air of utter frustration - a final shriek
Of horror, and it flees. The cool rain feels warm against
The layer of ice on my skin. Tears mix with rain,
And my muscles release their grip for the first time.
A stampede of suppressed breath erupts from my mouth -
Curling in the rain and flying towards its giver,
The Giver of rain. I roll onto my back, and pull back
My hair - letting the blood, sweat, and dirt run off my face.
Again the rain saves, again the Giver gives.
I find the energy to stand, my body cold but clean.
And as the rain slows, the clouds break -
Light returns heat to my body, and hope to my soul.

Amazing grace, that brings the cleansing - I once
Was lost, but then He found me. He tore the
Cobwebs, and dismissed the fears. With the flinch
Of His hand, the darkness was banished.
But I kept my room, I hid in there. It was dark and inviting,
And in it I could sleep. And while I slept, the phantasm came.

The Future of my Blog

2005-02-10T00:23:00.000-08:00

I've decided (finally) what I'm going to do with this post. Because I think that it is a good expression of who I am, it's fun, and I've always really wanted to do it - I'm just gonna share my poetry on this site. Sorry for those of you that think its boring, or too emotional. As you will notice, I'm sure, most of my poetry happens to be about love - because, well, poetry is an emotional release for me - and my emotions most need releasing when love is involved. So - thus begins my poetry blog.

Green Eyes (February, 2002)
I’ve never felt this kind of love.
Why does it seem so blessed?
Why torn and hurt and sick and tears?
Why overwhelming thoughts and fears?
“True Love” - not trackable by a thousand bloodhounds, not breakable though with a thousand swords, yet not able to overcome our frailties and doubts.
Love so pure, I feel no lust. My world feels right when your smile is at the center.
My eyes feel worth when they revel in yours.
Green Eyes, no man with a soul could resist you -
no man with a heart could turn you away.
My heart has never been so low before, to feel the need to pick it up.
And yet I’ve never wanted more to pick the damned thing up -
For so I feel your love has cleansed me - your pure life, unhindered by the bonds of the world and the bonds of unhappiness. Being with you is like being separate from life and limb and worry. And when you’re there, sinking your eyes into mine - my essence seems filled. My heart pounds the floor, I want to hold you. I want to wrap my arms around everything you are, and grasp it tightly to me.

And yet our curse. Our distance. Our unfamiliarity. Our God. The God who knows more than either of us that feeling I glimpse when your lips spread, and the purest joy beams from your mouth. The duty that holds us apart is the very duty that causes me to cleave to you all the more. I feel immeasurably crushed and immeasurably made whole all in an instant. What is best for us means death for me - means a day without your sunlight, and a night without your eyes. Those Green Eyes, in their spirals, hold the life that all crave, and only He gives. Our curse. Our salvation. Our God.

O Vengeful Queen

2005-02-07T23:12:00.000-08:00

Didn't I give you more than I took? (infinitely so?)
Didn't I always look out for you?
Built you when you were broken
Held you when you needed me
and even when you didn't?

And where were you when I needed the same?
Where were your arms when I fell?
Ah, there they are - folded.
Folded in discontent.
Always discontent.

For such an emotionless person,
you know surprisingly well where to strike.
you couldn't even give me This in return,
but instead scorn me by pawning It.
What would have been my most prized possession,
you have given to an ignorant fool.

You sit there in sick pleasure,
knowing that you have given what I wanted most
to someone who has no clue.
But I will not hide my pain.
I will not try to ignore the anger.
You will not harden my heart to be like yours.

Have what you long for,
O vengeful queen.
Have my tears, my heart, my life.
I pay it as my tribute to you,
knowing that my life will be trampled,
my heart devoured for the sustenance of your pride,
and my tears used to drown your own.

Procrastination...

2005-01-30T23:13:00.000-08:00

Seniors are famous for slacking off and being coy about it. With a recent six-day weekend (is that still considered a "weekend" - probably not, but shutup) and not having to go to class for 8 days, I suspect that, as a typical senior, I'm supposed to be about at my pinnacle of coyness. But no, I am not. Instead, I am racked with guilt.

Maybe it's because I have a paper due on Thursday on a book I am 7 and a half pages into right now. Or maybe its because I have finally realized how much time I have played Halo this week. Whatever it is, I AM NOT RELAXED! And that's frustrating. Which makes me less relaxed - and you can see how quickly my soul is deluged by this never-ending wave of depression. Ok - so I'm being a BIT over-dramatic. So I haven't given more than twenty minutes worry to this. That's only because I'm too absent-minded/ADD to let it get to me. When I DO think about it, I battle through second-long bouts with depression. All this to say - I'm annoyed with how good I am at procrastinating. And I feel like....as a senior in college....I should be done with the character flaw by now. Especially surrounded by the monkish Wheatonites and their endless self-discipline.

OK - so I'm gonna get started on my homework now. Thanks for letting me get that one out. On a side note - KU rocks my undisciplined world.

Ah...C-League Basketball

2005-01-27T19:03:00.000-08:00

I just spent the last two hours watching the most amazing spectacle most of this world has never seen. It honestly should be documented and aired on T.V. I'm talking, of course, about intramural "C-League" Basketball. This is where everyone who ever really, really wanted to play ball goes once they've hit the bottom and realized that it is hopeless. And of course, it is also for all those fun-loving, crazy guys who don't know how to play ball, but want to go out and have a fun time - like my crazy roommate Enoch, who put together a wonderful team of scrubs. Their first game was tonight, and I watched them lose to perennial C-League favorite "Koinonia" or "the all-Asian team" as everyone (including themselves) refers to them. P-Carr probably knows exactly what I'm talking about - this team has been around for ages. Anyways, Enoch and scrubs almost took them down in a 40 minute hackfest, final: 29-24. I've never had so much fun watching that few points get put on the scoreboard. It's like watching one of those Celebrity softball games where everyone is bad, but they're laughing hysterically at themselves, and everyone ends up having a good time. I love C-league.
Anyways, I've been sick lately. My right lymph node is the size of a small grapefruit, and I'm sleeping like 14 hours a day. Plus, I've missed 4 out of my six classes this week. That's a bummer - let me tell you. So instead I've watched like 6 movies this week. Wanna know the best one I've watched so far? I'm kind've ashamed to say it - "Mean Girls". I feel like a teenage girl saying that - but hey, I think we should all feel like teenage girls once in a while. And just in case I was gonna write any more sentences like that last one, I'm gonna stop this post right now.

whatsup world

2005-01-23T22:51:00.000-08:00

Thomas can't spell very well. Seriously, I love the kid - but is he honestly gonna graduate from CP? Oh yeah, and the Dolphins suck. (I'm getting back at you for not mentioning me in your senior paragraph, you jerk.)