The sunlight is shining the same as it was a moment ago
And the breeze hasn't shifted or changed
But you know
you know before you know
The bird song has become an amorphous fog
And the sound mimics a train through a tunnel
But you hear
you hear before you hear
Everything is caught in hardening amber
And simultaneously out-racing lightning
But you sense it
You sense it before you sense it.
A clumsy step
A loose stone
A wayward root
A careless eye
You see the world begin to rise
And the horizon begin to skew
You feel your feet forget the cliffs edge
And your mind remembering it, only too late
The Feeling of Falling.
encompassed in one heart's beat.
Soo.... Grab a root or branch or something nearby. Reading this ain't gonna keep you from hurtling down a gorge to your death. And if you're reading this on your phone, it's probably the reason why you're in this predicament. Shoot, man. Pay attention to where you're walking.
Back to the Blog.
Lucky Day 13: Transition and Similarities
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
It's been a while since I have put forth any effort to pen my thoughts. This is not necessarily from a complete lack of them as much as my falling into a period of deep sloth regarding matters of any cerebral exertion which has served as a mental break between the completion of college and my embarkation into "Real Life". Either way, my mental hiatus has been cut short by my constant need to feed myself and the social pressure to trim my beard away from a homeless look. But now that I'm up and cognating (maybe a real word) again, I've come to some startling conclusions about the "Real World".
1: It's more or less the same as the "Fake World".
People are just as ridiculous (ly dressed, opinionated, and confusing) as they were in college and high school. In fact, some of them are even MORE difficult to understand than when they were 7 and insisted that their wearing of a special pair of Power Ranger underwear would help them to win a little league game. Those people (once fully aged) have just as preposterous ideas that make even more dramatic impacts in their lives. And some of them still wear the underwear when asking a boss for a raise.
In reality, the maturity level (from what I've observed in general) of humans doesn't increase one bit from birth to age 50. What happens is that the risks increase at a similar ratio to mental faculty, and the illusion of maturity is created. The same flaws, mental chinks, egocentric tendencies, superstitions. childish behavior and self-destructive desires haunt an adult just the same if not moreso than their childhood counterparts. A huge percentage of full grown adults have a 9 year old self wrapped up in a thin sheen of financial stability and facial hair. Women just have a sheen of plastic.
2: Words barely mean anything.
Let's look at this in a Case Study format. The word "Epic" was originally created to describe " An extended narrative poem in elevated or dignified language, celebrating the feats of a legendary or traditional hero." But has now become used to describe "Kyle had a semi-exciting weekend where he and his lackluster friends became intoxicated and embarrassed themselves publicly, but were too inebriated to notice the social ramifications. They then spent the next 30 hours in a hung over state."
Or even better, the word epic can be used to describe someone falling on their face.
Moving on to another word. I have recently been pondering the word "Good" as it was originally intended to be used. The dictionary has a few different definitions of this word. It can mean "morally excellent; virtuous; righteous; pious" or "of high quality; excellent." But I would posit that it could have a much more pure meaning. C.S. Lewis' Christ figure, Aslan is described to be majestic, regal, selfless, and many more high and righteous words. But I have always thought that the most appropriate and heartfelt/innocent/pure/beautiful title he was ever given was when Lucy mentioned that he was "Good".
I find it such a dishonor to the word that 'good' has become something that we will say that we are in a state of when there is nothing necessarily wrong with us, but nothing extraordinarily excellent about our current situation. When asked how a person is, the most common response is that they are "good" (and typically, so is the asker upon being asked).
I have begun to suspect that the length of a word is directly correlated to the probability that it will be corrupted by the common tongue into something that it was originally not. Though there are exceptions, (such as the word "Legendary", but this is more likely a way for a person who will ultimately go unnoticed by historians to make their lives feel slightly better about that fact) but longer words seem to maintain their factory settings longer than those that can be spewed out in a shorter amount of time and with less breath. Either way, I doubt anyone will be trivializing the words "Constabulary" or "Parsimonious" by adding them to a narrative about their road trip.
3: I have not changed.
Some may note that my first discussion seemed rather pointed. The reason for that is introspection has been rather harsh in it's findings. My soul has gained no extra worth by going to a university. And the knowledge that I have gained is either buried so deep in my memory that random access is nearly impossible or completely irrelevant to anything other than a specific video game. The same insecurities and human weaknesses that I have had since birth have not been expunged by some higher wisdom of a textbook or professor, and anyone looking for fulfillment in academia will only be distracted for a time.
I do not regret my choice to go to college, but I realize that it is not something that will make me a better person. The only way to truly better oneself is through a knowledge of Jesus Christ, not through an extensive knowledge of the legal system or the anatomy and physiology of a human. Not to say that those things are not useful and important, they are simply not the end goal. The nice thing is that Christ doesn't cost 40,000 dollars a year in tuition, but monetary value isn't really what the Christian life is measured by, now is it?
1: It's more or less the same as the "Fake World".
People are just as ridiculous (ly dressed, opinionated, and confusing) as they were in college and high school. In fact, some of them are even MORE difficult to understand than when they were 7 and insisted that their wearing of a special pair of Power Ranger underwear would help them to win a little league game. Those people (once fully aged) have just as preposterous ideas that make even more dramatic impacts in their lives. And some of them still wear the underwear when asking a boss for a raise.
In reality, the maturity level (from what I've observed in general) of humans doesn't increase one bit from birth to age 50. What happens is that the risks increase at a similar ratio to mental faculty, and the illusion of maturity is created. The same flaws, mental chinks, egocentric tendencies, superstitions. childish behavior and self-destructive desires haunt an adult just the same if not moreso than their childhood counterparts. A huge percentage of full grown adults have a 9 year old self wrapped up in a thin sheen of financial stability and facial hair. Women just have a sheen of plastic.
2: Words barely mean anything.
Let's look at this in a Case Study format. The word "Epic" was originally created to describe " An extended narrative poem in elevated or dignified language, celebrating the feats of a legendary or traditional hero." But has now become used to describe "Kyle had a semi-exciting weekend where he and his lackluster friends became intoxicated and embarrassed themselves publicly, but were too inebriated to notice the social ramifications. They then spent the next 30 hours in a hung over state."
Or even better, the word epic can be used to describe someone falling on their face.
Moving on to another word. I have recently been pondering the word "Good" as it was originally intended to be used. The dictionary has a few different definitions of this word. It can mean "morally excellent; virtuous; righteous; pious" or "of high quality; excellent." But I would posit that it could have a much more pure meaning. C.S. Lewis' Christ figure, Aslan is described to be majestic, regal, selfless, and many more high and righteous words. But I have always thought that the most appropriate and heartfelt/innocent/pure/beautiful title he was ever given was when Lucy mentioned that he was "Good".
I find it such a dishonor to the word that 'good' has become something that we will say that we are in a state of when there is nothing necessarily wrong with us, but nothing extraordinarily excellent about our current situation. When asked how a person is, the most common response is that they are "good" (and typically, so is the asker upon being asked).
I have begun to suspect that the length of a word is directly correlated to the probability that it will be corrupted by the common tongue into something that it was originally not. Though there are exceptions, (such as the word "Legendary", but this is more likely a way for a person who will ultimately go unnoticed by historians to make their lives feel slightly better about that fact) but longer words seem to maintain their factory settings longer than those that can be spewed out in a shorter amount of time and with less breath. Either way, I doubt anyone will be trivializing the words "Constabulary" or "Parsimonious" by adding them to a narrative about their road trip.
3: I have not changed.
Some may note that my first discussion seemed rather pointed. The reason for that is introspection has been rather harsh in it's findings. My soul has gained no extra worth by going to a university. And the knowledge that I have gained is either buried so deep in my memory that random access is nearly impossible or completely irrelevant to anything other than a specific video game. The same insecurities and human weaknesses that I have had since birth have not been expunged by some higher wisdom of a textbook or professor, and anyone looking for fulfillment in academia will only be distracted for a time.
I do not regret my choice to go to college, but I realize that it is not something that will make me a better person. The only way to truly better oneself is through a knowledge of Jesus Christ, not through an extensive knowledge of the legal system or the anatomy and physiology of a human. Not to say that those things are not useful and important, they are simply not the end goal. The nice thing is that Christ doesn't cost 40,000 dollars a year in tuition, but monetary value isn't really what the Christian life is measured by, now is it?
Day 12: The Edge of the Cliff
Monday, April 23, 2012
There are few times that really catch the mind, body, and spirit in full awareness of each other. When they all tingle with the fullness of knowing that the others truly exist, not because logic dictates it, but because each part of a human can feel the others reverberating against it like horse-hair against cello strings.
The soles of feet take ground inch by timid inch, while arms grasp the wind for assurance of balance while the chest moves fast and shallow as if to make one lighter. The mind sees, hears, perceives, makes plans and adjusts them with the same speed as lightning striking through the clouds. But the Spirit, the Spirit leaps.
The Edge of a Cliff, the pinnacle of mortality. The Threshold of Heaven. We stand and are whole, we fall and are broken. This simple truth is all that exists, and no other thing means anything. But we walk away from the edge, back to the plains and the hills, where falling has no fear and where standing means nothing.
Lord, Keep me on the Cliff.
My actions need consequences, my faith rewards me. My caution brings profit and my daring sends me far above the world. The fear of falling will never trump my fear of failing, yet my will be yours, and I fear no failure. Keep me on the edge, never send me away. This is my prayer, and when my part is played,
Let me Leap from the cliff, and lay feet through Heaven's gates.
The soles of feet take ground inch by timid inch, while arms grasp the wind for assurance of balance while the chest moves fast and shallow as if to make one lighter. The mind sees, hears, perceives, makes plans and adjusts them with the same speed as lightning striking through the clouds. But the Spirit, the Spirit leaps.
The Edge of a Cliff, the pinnacle of mortality. The Threshold of Heaven. We stand and are whole, we fall and are broken. This simple truth is all that exists, and no other thing means anything. But we walk away from the edge, back to the plains and the hills, where falling has no fear and where standing means nothing.
Lord, Keep me on the Cliff.
My actions need consequences, my faith rewards me. My caution brings profit and my daring sends me far above the world. The fear of falling will never trump my fear of failing, yet my will be yours, and I fear no failure. Keep me on the edge, never send me away. This is my prayer, and when my part is played,
Let me Leap from the cliff, and lay feet through Heaven's gates.
Day 11: If you haven't noticed yet, the days are symbolic.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
It's been a while since I last wrote anything here. Call it writers block, call it preoccupation, call it whatever you want. Just don't call it anything you'd regret, and if you find out what that is, let me know. Part of me is curious as to what people would regret calling my lack of consistency on updating a sparsely maintained web-page. Seriously, shoot me a text.
There's not a whole lot of plot involved in this post. I don't really have a goal or aim i'm shooting for. Not trying to make you laugh. Or think. Or send me money. I'm just writing cause, heck, it feels good and it beats trying to peel the sunburn off that frustratingly elusive part of the back right above where your hands can reach if you go under the shoulder and right above if you try to go over the mountain. So let's talk about people and how.... Odd... we can be.
First up, Cuteness.
What exactly makes something fall into the anomalous fog of a definition that is "Cute"? If you ask Google images, you get answers such as this.
So lets do a brief analysis of what makes these images emit whatever chemical in our brains that corresponds to the "Awwww" vocalization. To start, they all have disproportionally gigantic heads, as do babies and kittens and most of the other things that I intentionally neglected to put on here because some of my readers (And I fervently hope a very small group) might have a cutesy heart attack. So to test this theory, I Google image searched "Oversized head and helpless". There was a bit of a disconnect.
As you can plainly see, the results of this acid test were... inconclusive. The decision was made that there are quite a number of factors going into cuteness other than Gargantuan faces and a lack of ability to defend oneself. I briefly thought of delving further into this, but decided instead to chalk it up to "Cute is in the Eye of the Beholder." And would you know what caused me to come to this?
Yeah... Cuteness is in the eye of the beholder. But if I were to be holding this cup, there would be about 14 knife wounds in this thing's eyes.
Cuteness. It's a weird concept. I've often thought that certain animals who would not otherwise survive in the wild develop traits that can be construed as cute in order to skew the theory of Survival of the Fittest by appealing to the top of the food chain. I mean, there's a reason that Pandas are endangered. They have the digestive tract of a carnivore, but their diet consists of 99% bamboo intake. This insanely frequent error in dietary judgement causes the pandas to be slothful to the point of avoiding any kind of sloping geography as this would cause them to exert more energy than they can take in. This choice of cuisine also accounts for their having to consume up to 30 pounds of bamboo shoots a day, which also leads to the astonishing rate of defecation, which can be up to 40 trips to the can every 24 hours.
So let's sum this up. We've got a 350 pound creature who cannot handle "Sloping Terrain" or common social behaviors because it eats a diet of some of the most inefficient metabolic fuel on the planet (which it's digestive tract isn't even designed to handle.) meanwhile dropping up to a pound of feces twice every hour. Oh, and they only produce one cub every two years. These animals are basically asking to slowly waddle their way out of existence.
But look at that thing! We can't let it die out! It's just so.......cute.... We have to make a big deal of this. Get a huge team of scientists to find out why they don't eat meat (They occasionally do, by the way. But they still haven't figured out that they're supposed to.) and then get another team to research a way to convert common Viagra into a pill that would speed up their reproduction rate! (Not making this up.) There is no way that we're going to let them go extinct. Not when they look like giant, fuzzy, cuddly, depressed (in a disarming way*) chubby teddy bears.
So my theory for cuteness being nature's defense mechanism seems to be holding up. To further prove my point, let me show you an animal that nobody wants to make any effort to conserve. But first, let me tell you that it is very well adapted for survival. It is an omnivore, eating anything from bugs to fruit to eggs that it steals from villages that have been built in its territory, has night vision, echo-location, and is able to find and catch food using only one finger. Sounds pretty sweet, right?
False. This is the Aye-Aye, the largest nocturnal primate in the world. Nobody really cares if this thing goes extinct, even to the point of it being dubbed as a harbinger of death and killed on sight simply for being straight up evil. Even though this guy fends for himself as far as feeding and generally doing whatever he can to stay alive, nobody gives a care. And why? Lack of cuteness, that's why.*
So far, I believe my theory on cuteness being the great equalizer in the game of life stands firm. Things that would never have made it past the first round of Natural Selection have gotten a pretty hefty handout simply because they look so ridiculous that it's considered adorable. Smooth move, I guess.
Anyways, thanks for reading.
*Panda Attacks on Humans
http://www.aolnews.com/2011/03/15/panda-attacks-keeper-at-san-diego-zoo/
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,304249,00.htmlhttp://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28554008/ns/technology_and_science-science/t/gu-gu-strikes-again-panda-attacks-zoo-visitor/
http://www.reuters.com/article/2008/11/24/us-china-panda-idUSTRE4AN5NF20081124
*Aye-Aye Attacks on Humans
This one guy says that they stab people with their fingers.
There's not a whole lot of plot involved in this post. I don't really have a goal or aim i'm shooting for. Not trying to make you laugh. Or think. Or send me money. I'm just writing cause, heck, it feels good and it beats trying to peel the sunburn off that frustratingly elusive part of the back right above where your hands can reach if you go under the shoulder and right above if you try to go over the mountain. So let's talk about people and how.... Odd... we can be.
First up, Cuteness.
What exactly makes something fall into the anomalous fog of a definition that is "Cute"? If you ask Google images, you get answers such as this.
 |
| Palm sized-hedgehog |
 |
| Fuzzy Hybrid Animal |
 |
| Feeding chipmunk-ling |
 |
| Anthropomorphisms |
 |
| Crotchety Sea Animal |
 |
| Robo-Offspring |
 |
| Socially Abrasive Turkey |
 | ||
| Huh? |
 | ||
| Google Image Search: Cute |
Cuteness. It's a weird concept. I've often thought that certain animals who would not otherwise survive in the wild develop traits that can be construed as cute in order to skew the theory of Survival of the Fittest by appealing to the top of the food chain. I mean, there's a reason that Pandas are endangered. They have the digestive tract of a carnivore, but their diet consists of 99% bamboo intake. This insanely frequent error in dietary judgement causes the pandas to be slothful to the point of avoiding any kind of sloping geography as this would cause them to exert more energy than they can take in. This choice of cuisine also accounts for their having to consume up to 30 pounds of bamboo shoots a day, which also leads to the astonishing rate of defecation, which can be up to 40 trips to the can every 24 hours.
So let's sum this up. We've got a 350 pound creature who cannot handle "Sloping Terrain" or common social behaviors because it eats a diet of some of the most inefficient metabolic fuel on the planet (which it's digestive tract isn't even designed to handle.) meanwhile dropping up to a pound of feces twice every hour. Oh, and they only produce one cub every two years. These animals are basically asking to slowly waddle their way out of existence.
 | |||||
But look at that thing! We can't let it die out! It's just so.......cute.... We have to make a big deal of this. Get a huge team of scientists to find out why they don't eat meat (They occasionally do, by the way. But they still haven't figured out that they're supposed to.) and then get another team to research a way to convert common Viagra into a pill that would speed up their reproduction rate! (Not making this up.) There is no way that we're going to let them go extinct. Not when they look like giant, fuzzy, cuddly, depressed (in a disarming way*) chubby teddy bears.
So my theory for cuteness being nature's defense mechanism seems to be holding up. To further prove my point, let me show you an animal that nobody wants to make any effort to conserve. But first, let me tell you that it is very well adapted for survival. It is an omnivore, eating anything from bugs to fruit to eggs that it steals from villages that have been built in its territory, has night vision, echo-location, and is able to find and catch food using only one finger. Sounds pretty sweet, right?
 |
| Nope |
False. This is the Aye-Aye, the largest nocturnal primate in the world. Nobody really cares if this thing goes extinct, even to the point of it being dubbed as a harbinger of death and killed on sight simply for being straight up evil. Even though this guy fends for himself as far as feeding and generally doing whatever he can to stay alive, nobody gives a care. And why? Lack of cuteness, that's why.*
So far, I believe my theory on cuteness being the great equalizer in the game of life stands firm. Things that would never have made it past the first round of Natural Selection have gotten a pretty hefty handout simply because they look so ridiculous that it's considered adorable. Smooth move, I guess.
Anyways, thanks for reading.
*Panda Attacks on Humans
http://www.aolnews.com/2011/03/15/panda-attacks-keeper-at-san-diego-zoo/
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,304249,00.htmlhttp://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28554008/ns/technology_and_science-science/t/gu-gu-strikes-again-panda-attacks-zoo-visitor/
http://www.reuters.com/article/2008/11/24/us-china-panda-idUSTRE4AN5NF20081124
*Aye-Aye Attacks on Humans
This one guy says that they stab people with their fingers.
Day 10: The Vibrancy
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
It's almost the Year-Anniversary of this poem. I thought that, seeing as winter is getting the boot soon, this little jaunt would be appropriate.
Color
Grey or Gray, it's a sallow day
during the fearsome roar of march
on top of reddened clay there is no green or play
no vibrancy, this land is parched
The tops of trees rattle, bare, in the breeze
with only the dead leaves to shade
but, up, a green shoot squeezed, into the light it eased
and color will follow this small blade.
It all Explodes and the gray erodes
and the song of the seasons changes
the warm wind blows and the soft rain flows
and on these hils, heavens' color graces
So don't cry, child, for life is now mild
though forever, this cannot be
Through springtime's smile and through winter wild
Color ebbs and flows like the sea.
Color
Grey or Gray, it's a sallow day
during the fearsome roar of march
on top of reddened clay there is no green or play
no vibrancy, this land is parched
The tops of trees rattle, bare, in the breeze
with only the dead leaves to shade
but, up, a green shoot squeezed, into the light it eased
and color will follow this small blade.
It all Explodes and the gray erodes
and the song of the seasons changes
the warm wind blows and the soft rain flows
and on these hils, heavens' color graces
So don't cry, child, for life is now mild
though forever, this cannot be
Through springtime's smile and through winter wild
Color ebbs and flows like the sea.
Day 9: The Kryptonite
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Not sure if this is a regular occurrence to everyone, but there are days that I simply wake up feeling invincible. It's like I could wake up with a knife buried in my heart and simply pull it out, toss it in the "Wash" portion of my sink, brush my teeth and get on with my day like nothing happened. I drive to work, daring every truck or vehicle with a ramming bar to blitz a red light and T-bone me so that I can walk out of the blazing wreck, adjust my aviators, and sprint the 5 miles to work. (I'd also inexplicably change into a 3 piece suit during the crash.)
This got me to thinking. (A dangerous pastime, I know.) What if I lived in a constant state of feeling invincible? What would that look like? What would it look like if everyone lived like they were invincible? And then I realized something.
We already are invincible.
Think about it logically with me. How many times do we die? Hebrews 9 gives us the obvious answer :27 Just as people are destined to die once, and after that to face judgment, 28 so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.
So.... We only die once. Which gives us two other logical deductions. We are only born once, and we only live once. So here is a thought, If God has a definite plan for our lives that makes the best use of us and accomplishes his perfect plan, why are we so scared? And what are we scared of? As Christians, we are already guaranteed a life with Christ after death, so death isn't something we should be scared of as it only releases us into the presence and community of God. And if death isn't to be feared, then what on earth is there to frighten us?
I don't claim to have the answer, but my best guess is that we fear being uncomfortable. We want to have a secure and predictable life. One that doesn't cause too much stress and allows for a sheltered existence, free from all intrusions and inconveniences. I know that there are several ways that comfort can be manifested. Personally, I take no comfort in interacting with anyone that I don't already know. My social range of comfort is extremely limited, to the extreme where I have gone through 4 years of college in fairly small classrooms (less than 100, usually) and I know probably two people's names. I HATE initiating a social exchange, and pleasantries such as "How are you doing? How's your day?" are strained when coming from my throat.
Some people may empathize with me, or maybe they take comfort in the security of their income. They see their paycheck as a barrier between them and the unpleasant world that would befall them if their buying power couldn't get them the most ergonomic style of living possible. Others may find comfort in a physical aspect, avoiding corporal pain or hardships. Whatever our bubble of comfort is, we have to understand that we cannot be effective tools for Christ's hand if we never poke our head out of whatever foxhole we've dug.
This is where the part about us being invincible becomes incredibly potent. It may not be literal hollow points flying at you and harmlessly ricocheting off with sweet sound effects, but Christ knows exactly how you are best used and when you can finally achieve your rest. So think of it this way, until you finish whatever calling God has for you, you can't be stopped. Sure you can be hampered, waylaid, distracted or even outright attacked. But if God is using you as a tool for his master plan, you're going to be able to go all die-hard until your part of the plan is finished. And when that happens, you'll be allowed the greatest comfort imaginable, which is resting in the presence of God.
I like to draw on the wisdom of the movie "Big Fish". A young Edward Bloom muses about the pros and cons of knowing your own death.
" I was thinking about death and all. About seeing how you're gonna die. I mean, on one hand, if dying was all you thought about, it could kind of screw you up. But it could kind of help you, couldn't it? Because you'd know that everything else you can survive."
And we have much more than surviving to look forward to. So put some figurative shells in both barrels of your shotgun (or literal, If needs be) Step out boldly and with confidence that, while you may not be able to do anything you set your hands to, If you put your hands on God's project, no amount of knives, bullets, mad cow disease, cancer, swine flu, rusty pieces of metal that some idiot keeps leaving on the middle of the sidewalk, or anything will be able to keep you from accomplishing your part in it. But it's up to you, that's the beauty of free will. And if we let it, comfort can be our kryptonite.
"Today isn't certain. Tomorrow is never guaranteed. Live every day with God's passion for man's salvation, and be deathly afraid of living timidly.
This got me to thinking. (A dangerous pastime, I know.) What if I lived in a constant state of feeling invincible? What would that look like? What would it look like if everyone lived like they were invincible? And then I realized something.
We already are invincible.
Think about it logically with me. How many times do we die? Hebrews 9 gives us the obvious answer :27 Just as people are destined to die once, and after that to face judgment, 28 so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.
So.... We only die once. Which gives us two other logical deductions. We are only born once, and we only live once. So here is a thought, If God has a definite plan for our lives that makes the best use of us and accomplishes his perfect plan, why are we so scared? And what are we scared of? As Christians, we are already guaranteed a life with Christ after death, so death isn't something we should be scared of as it only releases us into the presence and community of God. And if death isn't to be feared, then what on earth is there to frighten us?
I don't claim to have the answer, but my best guess is that we fear being uncomfortable. We want to have a secure and predictable life. One that doesn't cause too much stress and allows for a sheltered existence, free from all intrusions and inconveniences. I know that there are several ways that comfort can be manifested. Personally, I take no comfort in interacting with anyone that I don't already know. My social range of comfort is extremely limited, to the extreme where I have gone through 4 years of college in fairly small classrooms (less than 100, usually) and I know probably two people's names. I HATE initiating a social exchange, and pleasantries such as "How are you doing? How's your day?" are strained when coming from my throat.
Some people may empathize with me, or maybe they take comfort in the security of their income. They see their paycheck as a barrier between them and the unpleasant world that would befall them if their buying power couldn't get them the most ergonomic style of living possible. Others may find comfort in a physical aspect, avoiding corporal pain or hardships. Whatever our bubble of comfort is, we have to understand that we cannot be effective tools for Christ's hand if we never poke our head out of whatever foxhole we've dug.
This is where the part about us being invincible becomes incredibly potent. It may not be literal hollow points flying at you and harmlessly ricocheting off with sweet sound effects, but Christ knows exactly how you are best used and when you can finally achieve your rest. So think of it this way, until you finish whatever calling God has for you, you can't be stopped. Sure you can be hampered, waylaid, distracted or even outright attacked. But if God is using you as a tool for his master plan, you're going to be able to go all die-hard until your part of the plan is finished. And when that happens, you'll be allowed the greatest comfort imaginable, which is resting in the presence of God.
I like to draw on the wisdom of the movie "Big Fish". A young Edward Bloom muses about the pros and cons of knowing your own death.
" I was thinking about death and all. About seeing how you're gonna die. I mean, on one hand, if dying was all you thought about, it could kind of screw you up. But it could kind of help you, couldn't it? Because you'd know that everything else you can survive."
And we have much more than surviving to look forward to. So put some figurative shells in both barrels of your shotgun (or literal, If needs be) Step out boldly and with confidence that, while you may not be able to do anything you set your hands to, If you put your hands on God's project, no amount of knives, bullets, mad cow disease, cancer, swine flu, rusty pieces of metal that some idiot keeps leaving on the middle of the sidewalk, or anything will be able to keep you from accomplishing your part in it. But it's up to you, that's the beauty of free will. And if we let it, comfort can be our kryptonite.
"Today isn't certain. Tomorrow is never guaranteed. Live every day with God's passion for man's salvation, and be deathly afraid of living timidly.
Day 8: The Masked Words
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
It seems that, in the absence of having to forage for food and collecting raindrops in broken leaves, the modern world has had to create new problems in order to fulfill the necessity of conflict in life. At the same time, we as modern humans have had to confront the most recessed and uncharted caverns of the human soul, psyche, and sentience. I'm not sure if the people who occasionally read this page will resonate with this small snapshot I took of myself a few months back, but to be bluntly honest, I haven't really thought of anything original to write about recently, and I also need to take a shower.
So here it is, a little piece I wrote a while back that may give words to those like me who have a pretty dang good life, and still find a way to be frustrated with it.
Automaton:
So here it is, a little piece I wrote a while back that may give words to those like me who have a pretty dang good life, and still find a way to be frustrated with it.
Automaton:
Somewhere inside me, tears are dammed up.
Holding against a concrete wall of Apathy,
False Bravado,
Fear of weakness.
Even as the words appear on the field of white, I know
That I have pierced a cyst of emotion in the chasm of my
being.
Behind the wall of cynicism,
Nonchalance,
Carefree childishness.
There lies a broken man in a deep, deep lake of tears and
blood.
Blood that I have yet to shed, and tears that may never see
daylight.
I am so mediocre, so blessed, so cursed.
I will never know what true suffering is, and that thought
itself gives me pain.
Why, God, Why does nothing cause feeling?
I plead with you for something other than mild
A change for better or worse, I embrace either equally.
This stagnant pool gives me no release, no catharsis.
I cannot cry because I have not reason.
And so I just may burst at the seams.
With tears which will never know cause,
Pain that will never follow blood,
Fear that will never find source,
Sadness that will never be traced.
My God, this Stoicism is my curse.
Welp, that was fun. Shower time.
Day 7: The Re-boot
Monday, February 6, 2012
Computers are the backbone of our society today. It's fairly close to fact. And if that's true, then my spinal cord has been severed for the past week or so. I went to turn on my trusty compy one day only to find that it had figuratively lost it's marbles, scattered them all over cyberspace, and was lying to me about "thinking about booting".
The result was an utterly freeing experience. It was not that I had no responsibilities, it was that I had no means to resolve those responsibilities within my immediate wingspan at all times. General apathy settled in (as pertaining to doing anything productive) and I had a miniature childhood all over again.
Paypal my bills? Start writing that paper? Respond to that facebook message from a friend who I never see anyways? I'd have to drive to school and use their computers, so the answer is negative. Freedom.
But like all good rides, this roller coaster rounded the last curve and the pressure-brakes of reuniting with my computer engaged, sending my teeth into the greasy restraining bars of reality and repercussions. But that's not what I wanted to say, I had a different idea forming in my head during my hiatus from technology. And it has to do with rain.
Rainy days. The general appraisal of them is mixed. Some find joy in them, and others find themselves wrapped in every blanket in their possession, eyes melted into hazy mirrors reflecting the rain running down their window, and a pathetic expression of futile loathing stapled to their eyebrows and chin. I am not going to delve into the personality types that lend themselves to either of these archetypes. Rather, I would simply like to make a small list of things that one can do to enjoy a rainy day to the fullest.
1: Feeling depressed with no explainable reasoning.
I'm not sure how many people I speak for on this subject, but I have a pretty dang good life. (As in, "Dang. Life, It's good.") And people like me don't get the opportunity to have a good reason to mope. We can try to make up excuses like "I licked a 9volt battery" or that there's no TV shows with Bear Grylls on at this exact moment. Being sad can have a profound cathartic effect that allows for a fuller range of emotion and gives a person a sense of holistic existence. A rainy day is the perfect time to slowly pound your head into a door frame. Quick, do it before the sun comes out.
2: Pretending like you're an artist.
Even if you have no artistic aptitude at all, the day that the sky begins to shed tears is going to be the day that you attempt to transform into Van Gogh, Mozart, or Gary Larson. You'll pick up a brush/pen/hunk of off-brown clay and paint/write/smoosh a masterpiece/pulitzer prize/smooshed and oily hunk of off-brown clay like it was nobody's business. When the sun comes back out, it's probably a good idea to throw away/white-out/scrape your floor tiles with a chisel in one hand and shop vac in the other.
3: Listening to all that soft music that you bought during a rainy day and never listen to.
Seriously, you spent like 40 dollars on this junk and you've only listened to it on the Itunes preview. Get your money's worth while the day is still as blue-gray as the music.
4: Feeling like Rambo.
The rain starts hitting your roof and a wild glint hits gasoline fumes in your iris. Your breathing quickens and your jaw muscles become rigid and start trying to find the best angle for a camera shot. Shirt comes ripping off like a panther ripping into a pile of Christmas presents smothered in gravy and you are immediately sprinting down the street, gripping whatever bow-like object your hands could grab (most likely a nasty tree branch with poison oak on it, which you'll consciously ignore in a state of mannish intensity) and imagining that you actually have chest muscles. All men are born with this instinct pre-programmed into our psyches, but it can be suppressed through repeated imbibing of caramel lattes and the putting of Toms shoes on the feet. Women probably don't have this, and it's best that way. Women, please stick to point number 1.
There are many other ways to exploit the emotional shift that occurs during a rainy day. But nothing is as incredible as the change that can take place when a rainy day turns into a lightning storm. But we'll talk about that later.
The result was an utterly freeing experience. It was not that I had no responsibilities, it was that I had no means to resolve those responsibilities within my immediate wingspan at all times. General apathy settled in (as pertaining to doing anything productive) and I had a miniature childhood all over again.
Paypal my bills? Start writing that paper? Respond to that facebook message from a friend who I never see anyways? I'd have to drive to school and use their computers, so the answer is negative. Freedom.
But like all good rides, this roller coaster rounded the last curve and the pressure-brakes of reuniting with my computer engaged, sending my teeth into the greasy restraining bars of reality and repercussions. But that's not what I wanted to say, I had a different idea forming in my head during my hiatus from technology. And it has to do with rain.
Rainy days. The general appraisal of them is mixed. Some find joy in them, and others find themselves wrapped in every blanket in their possession, eyes melted into hazy mirrors reflecting the rain running down their window, and a pathetic expression of futile loathing stapled to their eyebrows and chin. I am not going to delve into the personality types that lend themselves to either of these archetypes. Rather, I would simply like to make a small list of things that one can do to enjoy a rainy day to the fullest.
1: Feeling depressed with no explainable reasoning.
2: Pretending like you're an artist.
3: Listening to all that soft music that you bought during a rainy day and never listen to.
Seriously, you spent like 40 dollars on this junk and you've only listened to it on the Itunes preview. Get your money's worth while the day is still as blue-gray as the music.
4: Feeling like Rambo.
There are many other ways to exploit the emotional shift that occurs during a rainy day. But nothing is as incredible as the change that can take place when a rainy day turns into a lightning storm. But we'll talk about that later.
Day 6: Waxing Rhapsodical
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Untitled, so far.
Thank you, Friend.
For the times you’ve kept me humble.
What are friends for, If not beating their friends down from
small hills
With a jeer, a quip, a barbed tongue.
Before the friend can climb to heights from which the fall
would shatter them.
Thank you, Friend.
For the times you’ve held me back.
For never letting me believe that I am anything more than
the ordinary lot that I am.
Tethering me safely to the ground before my wildest fantasies come
true,
And whisk me away to insanity and beyond.
Thank you, Friend.
For the times you’ve kept me from trying.
If Icarus had a friend like you, he would have never melted
his wings
And died a mythical death in the arms of foolish glory.
Which would forever be immortalized in fable.
Thank you, Friend.
For the times you’ve withheld respect.
My betterment, of course, it was for. Dipping my feet into cold-hardening
lead.
I would never leave you, for my benefit, of course.
What mad lunacy I would do to myself If you were to let me.
Thank you, Friend.
Now get behind me.
I will climb and I will fall, I will dream and I will
delude, I will fly and I will fail.
Or maybe, God’s hand on mine, I will grasp the sun in my
trembling fingers.
Tame the wild Lion, Best the Elephant in boxing, Raise
Atlantis, maybe…
Or not…
But keep me not from risk, for without it, we would all
wither and fade.
Day 5: The Gap
Friday, January 20, 2012
To all 14 people who've looked at this page, don't worry. I'm not forgetful enough to completely abandon a fledgling project before it's learned to write itself. (And please, someone let me know when that technology becomes possible. I'd like to buy some shares.) And for the population of the literate world minus 14, please forgive my continuation of this page.
Now, I'd like to take a bit of time to talk about the essential survival tips that revolve around college life and the transition into the world formerly known as "Real". The most important thing to do, obviously, is join the Occupy Wall Street movement. This will effectively postpone any real responsibility, productivity, or responsibility. More or less, you just camp out in whatever city you are currently in and make up your own form of sign language which is less complex than that used by budding toddlers until someone feeds you.
Until OWS comes to a definitive decision on the proper hand signals for Horse, Cookie, and No Touch, they shall receive less respect from me than I have for 14 month olds. If you decide that you're above living in a tent and smoking anything you can roll between some newspaper, ask your parents if they have enough money to put you through Grad school towards your philosophy degree.
Moving on, one of the primary things necessary to obtain before and/or after leaving the college of your youth is a steady income. And through researching Google images for 37 seconds, I have concluded that the answer is: Coffee.
Due to the fact that tea is basically hot water with plant juice in it, (and secondarily as an act of rebellion) the early Colonists opted to adopt a new heated beverage. At this time, it was being discovered that a certain bean could be crushed in order to obtain a chemical that would enhance clarity, focus, and energy while at the same time tasting like burnt.....burnt. The European world had just begun to explore what could be the new imbibing craze of the century. The Colonies immediately jumped on this exciting and exotic concoction as a way to distinguish themselves from the British Empire.
Whether it was complete ignorance or forced, the Colonials overlooked the fact that this same bean was the one used by these guys
for centuries as a way to get their warriors so "hopped up" that their sense of fear would be replaced with absolute anarchy in the Central Nervous System, making them effective soldiers up until their fine motor skills became non-existent and their hearts ruptured. Also, it was used by these guys
during their practice of the Sufism branch of Islam in order to reach a ethereal state of hysterical worship. Also, their hearts probably ruptured.
AAAAaanyways, the early Americans brought this little bean back to it's shores and began ingesting it, and the culture of coffee began. This small history effectively sets up the post-college grad with an incredible opportunity to enter the job market with almost no difficulty.
Buy People Coffee.
I have no idea how this is not in some kind of self-help book by now. If you want to move up the ladder in any venue, supply the people in charge with the drug they (more or less) cannot go a day without. This can also work with finding a spouse, only one may want to find out a little bit about them before becoming their main source of caffeine, as once that step is made, they will be hounding you for a free "hit" (cleverly disguised as a "chat") for months or years to come.
Secondly, ask your friends and friends parents if they know anyone who needs a metaphorical hand in doing whatever it is they do for a paycheck. The simplest thing to do is take your friends to coffee, then take your friends parents to coffee, then take your friend's parent's friends to coffee, then (if you haven't gotten to someone with hiring authority yet) take your friend's parent's friend's employer a coffee as you just happened to be wandering around their isolated warehouse which is located 3 valleys over from the edge of any reasonable citizens daily jogging route. This individual may hire you on the spot or your body will be found at the river mouth. This leads us into our third point...
Take some risks. This is your small window of opportunity to completely destroy your life without repercussions to whatever family you decide to start. If you are like me, then you'll have only yourself to worry about, and a 50/50 chance is great odds when the stakes are making it big or eating moss off the side of a rain gutter. There are actually some kinds of moss which are edible! Such great news! Also, in retrospect, point number two and one can be fused together, seeing as the second paragraph is almost completely redundant.
Anyways, my bladder is rapidly reaching the point where it may need medical attention if left for another 3 minutes, my attention span cannot allow for any break from typing, and my roommate is upstairs slowly....ever so slowly.... filling up the bathtub, or at least that's what it sounds like. So I'll boil down the other points necessary for success: Make a Family, and Make a huge difference in the world. It should also be known that, as I have not graduated college yet, all of these are purely theoretical and I know absolutely nothing about actually surviving in the outside world. Holy cow, it's still dripping. Ok, bye.
Now, I'd like to take a bit of time to talk about the essential survival tips that revolve around college life and the transition into the world formerly known as "Real". The most important thing to do, obviously, is join the Occupy Wall Street movement. This will effectively postpone any real responsibility, productivity, or responsibility. More or less, you just camp out in whatever city you are currently in and make up your own form of sign language which is less complex than that used by budding toddlers until someone feeds you.
 | |
| Versus |
Moving on, one of the primary things necessary to obtain before and/or after leaving the college of your youth is a steady income. And through researching Google images for 37 seconds, I have concluded that the answer is: Coffee.
Due to the fact that tea is basically hot water with plant juice in it, (and secondarily as an act of rebellion) the early Colonists opted to adopt a new heated beverage. At this time, it was being discovered that a certain bean could be crushed in order to obtain a chemical that would enhance clarity, focus, and energy while at the same time tasting like burnt.....burnt. The European world had just begun to explore what could be the new imbibing craze of the century. The Colonies immediately jumped on this exciting and exotic concoction as a way to distinguish themselves from the British Empire.
Whether it was complete ignorance or forced, the Colonials overlooked the fact that this same bean was the one used by these guys
for centuries as a way to get their warriors so "hopped up" that their sense of fear would be replaced with absolute anarchy in the Central Nervous System, making them effective soldiers up until their fine motor skills became non-existent and their hearts ruptured. Also, it was used by these guys
during their practice of the Sufism branch of Islam in order to reach a ethereal state of hysterical worship. Also, their hearts probably ruptured.
AAAAaanyways, the early Americans brought this little bean back to it's shores and began ingesting it, and the culture of coffee began. This small history effectively sets up the post-college grad with an incredible opportunity to enter the job market with almost no difficulty.
Buy People Coffee.
I have no idea how this is not in some kind of self-help book by now. If you want to move up the ladder in any venue, supply the people in charge with the drug they (more or less) cannot go a day without. This can also work with finding a spouse, only one may want to find out a little bit about them before becoming their main source of caffeine, as once that step is made, they will be hounding you for a free "hit" (cleverly disguised as a "chat") for months or years to come.
Secondly, ask your friends and friends parents if they know anyone who needs a metaphorical hand in doing whatever it is they do for a paycheck. The simplest thing to do is take your friends to coffee, then take your friends parents to coffee, then take your friend's parent's friends to coffee, then (if you haven't gotten to someone with hiring authority yet) take your friend's parent's friend's employer a coffee as you just happened to be wandering around their isolated warehouse which is located 3 valleys over from the edge of any reasonable citizens daily jogging route. This individual may hire you on the spot or your body will be found at the river mouth. This leads us into our third point...
Take some risks. This is your small window of opportunity to completely destroy your life without repercussions to whatever family you decide to start. If you are like me, then you'll have only yourself to worry about, and a 50/50 chance is great odds when the stakes are making it big or eating moss off the side of a rain gutter. There are actually some kinds of moss which are edible! Such great news! Also, in retrospect, point number two and one can be fused together, seeing as the second paragraph is almost completely redundant.
Anyways, my bladder is rapidly reaching the point where it may need medical attention if left for another 3 minutes, my attention span cannot allow for any break from typing, and my roommate is upstairs slowly....ever so slowly.... filling up the bathtub, or at least that's what it sounds like. So I'll boil down the other points necessary for success: Make a Family, and Make a huge difference in the world. It should also be known that, as I have not graduated college yet, all of these are purely theoretical and I know absolutely nothing about actually surviving in the outside world. Holy cow, it's still dripping. Ok, bye.
Day 4: On foods and origins
Sunday, January 15, 2012
As I looked through my meagre supply of edibles, I began to wonder how exactly the founders of differing nations and ethnic backgrounds managed to take the flora and fauna around them and create such interesting and complex meals. Dinners that require several hours worth of pre-cooking and several hundred ways to completely destroy the dish beyond edibility.
While stirring my bizarre concoction of hamburger, apples, potatoes, and whatever assorted spices and other nasty things I found in my pantry, I fervently hoped that some poor historical chump with a similar tact for recipe creating as mine one day broke out of culinary obscurity with a meal so other-worldly that people claimed it as genius. Not saying that what I made was genius, because if it is, I do not feel like eating any more "genius" for quite some time.
I realize now that what I really need to do if I ever want to break into the world of high class eatery is not make something incredibly complicated or sophisticated, all I have to do is create a new delicacy. Webster defines a delicacy as "Something pleasing to eat that is considered rare or luxurious". But by comparing that definition to popular delicacies such as Escargot (raw snail) or Caviar (salted fish eggs), I will make the assumption that this new delicacy simply has to be one of the things that all of us were dared to eat as kids.
Ice melt, any root dug up, parts of trees, and eggplant. These could all be candidates, except for the first one's tendency to do fairly rough organ damage, the second one's 50/50 chance of being lethal, the third's almost 100% chance of being inedible, and the fourth one's classification as a berry but having no good qualities of berries. The only thing left to do is to find a willing food snob and then begin to feed him parts of dead animals (or whole dead animals, if small enough) that no one else will possibly want until he decides that he has found something worthy to be called a delicacy, he calls it quits on account of liver failure, or dies.
I will keep you posted in case I do end up being the new food sensations so that you will know what not to order for your next fancy gala.
While stirring my bizarre concoction of hamburger, apples, potatoes, and whatever assorted spices and other nasty things I found in my pantry, I fervently hoped that some poor historical chump with a similar tact for recipe creating as mine one day broke out of culinary obscurity with a meal so other-worldly that people claimed it as genius. Not saying that what I made was genius, because if it is, I do not feel like eating any more "genius" for quite some time.
I realize now that what I really need to do if I ever want to break into the world of high class eatery is not make something incredibly complicated or sophisticated, all I have to do is create a new delicacy. Webster defines a delicacy as "Something pleasing to eat that is considered rare or luxurious". But by comparing that definition to popular delicacies such as Escargot (raw snail) or Caviar (salted fish eggs), I will make the assumption that this new delicacy simply has to be one of the things that all of us were dared to eat as kids.
Ice melt, any root dug up, parts of trees, and eggplant. These could all be candidates, except for the first one's tendency to do fairly rough organ damage, the second one's 50/50 chance of being lethal, the third's almost 100% chance of being inedible, and the fourth one's classification as a berry but having no good qualities of berries. The only thing left to do is to find a willing food snob and then begin to feed him parts of dead animals (or whole dead animals, if small enough) that no one else will possibly want until he decides that he has found something worthy to be called a delicacy, he calls it quits on account of liver failure, or dies.
I will keep you posted in case I do end up being the new food sensations so that you will know what not to order for your next fancy gala.
Day 3: The Placeholder
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Today consisted of jet fumes, missing hours, and airport bathrooms. Right now, my heart is left in the ashes of the woodstove back in alaska, and my brain and other vital organs are somewhere over Arizona. So I don't plan on writing anything earth-rumbling. Rather, I will let this be a greasy napkin left between the pages of day 2 and 4. Nothing to see here, move along.
Day 2: The Embarkment (College and the Real World.)
Friday, January 13, 2012
(This is meant for those in college, but it is acceptable that anyone read.)
It's a little bit nerve-wracking, leaving for college for the final time. On the one hand, I know that my journey through the realm post-secondary education is nearly traveled. But on the other, I can see the protective barrier of false-reality that is the college atmosphere quickly dissipating, leaving the stark and barren salt-flats of untested and unforgiving adulthood.
It's not so much that I fear adulthood and all that it entails, I've been active in seeking out experiences that will most likely exceed the daily demands of a 9 to 5. I know that I have the capability to handle myself in this new wasteland, I've seen Man vs. Wild. I know what's essential. Water, Body temperature, Shelter and Food.
But these things are only that which is necessary to Survive. And if I were to leave college with only that goal in mind, I doubt that I would have this much apprehension building inside where my heart and other internal organs should be. No, what really daunts me is the challenge to Excel. This means so much more than using a pigs organs to make a bowstring or gathering water from bamboo shoots. This means that we (all of us College students) must have come to the full understanding of our inner workings and hidden desires in order to know which path to place our money on when we spin the roulette wheel of the job market.
Who are you? What soil do you thrive in? Will you adapt or shatter? Are you ever supposed to know beforehand? The questions that the world silently asks hang heavy over my being, though I know that the world cares far less than I do. For all of us, in whatever walk we step forward into, know that there Is a Purpose and a Plan and a Potter, all working as one to create in us the person needed for the part to be played. There is a good deal of comfort in that.
Thanks for reading.
It's a little bit nerve-wracking, leaving for college for the final time. On the one hand, I know that my journey through the realm post-secondary education is nearly traveled. But on the other, I can see the protective barrier of false-reality that is the college atmosphere quickly dissipating, leaving the stark and barren salt-flats of untested and unforgiving adulthood.
It's not so much that I fear adulthood and all that it entails, I've been active in seeking out experiences that will most likely exceed the daily demands of a 9 to 5. I know that I have the capability to handle myself in this new wasteland, I've seen Man vs. Wild. I know what's essential. Water, Body temperature, Shelter and Food.
But these things are only that which is necessary to Survive. And if I were to leave college with only that goal in mind, I doubt that I would have this much apprehension building inside where my heart and other internal organs should be. No, what really daunts me is the challenge to Excel. This means so much more than using a pigs organs to make a bowstring or gathering water from bamboo shoots. This means that we (all of us College students) must have come to the full understanding of our inner workings and hidden desires in order to know which path to place our money on when we spin the roulette wheel of the job market.
Who are you? What soil do you thrive in? Will you adapt or shatter? Are you ever supposed to know beforehand? The questions that the world silently asks hang heavy over my being, though I know that the world cares far less than I do. For all of us, in whatever walk we step forward into, know that there Is a Purpose and a Plan and a Potter, all working as one to create in us the person needed for the part to be played. There is a good deal of comfort in that.
Thanks for reading.
Day One: The Incident
Thursday, January 12, 2012
I'm a simple man. And simply put, I enjoy venting my daily musings and confusion through black words on a digital medium. But i've sometimes been told that others enjoy the small pieces of half-witticisms that I throw out every once in a while. So I have come up with a two prong plan: I write to please myself, and anyone who finds this can read to please themselves. From my limited perspective, it's foolproof.
I cannot promise to capture the readers attention with every ill-turned phrase or questionably timed quip, but what I can promise is that I will consistently add small pieces of poetic drivel, longer and less poetic pieces of drivel, and occasionally a piece of all-natural, organic, no-preservatives or pesticides, grass-fed, free-trade, Splenda-free drivel.
To set the standard, I will now make up some sort of semi-rhyming prose for the purpose of my enjoyment (I'm no good at sudoku, this will have to do) and your entertainment.
Slow circles and sleepy descent,
A view from heaven, white to white.
From clouded sky, a tiny present,
And millions more, falling tight.
They lace the ground with grace and form,
And join hands with their neighbor.
The fortunate part of this snowy morn,
Is that the billions of tiny snowflakes will eventually form a thick enough blanket to obscure from public view the obscene word that a disgruntled junior-high student decided to spray paint onto the sidewalk because his parents disallowed him from going to a friend's house.
The moral of this poem is probably something about graffiti. Anyways, I hope that this is the beginning of a uplifting and symbiotic relationship.
Thank you for reading.
I cannot promise to capture the readers attention with every ill-turned phrase or questionably timed quip, but what I can promise is that I will consistently add small pieces of poetic drivel, longer and less poetic pieces of drivel, and occasionally a piece of all-natural, organic, no-preservatives or pesticides, grass-fed, free-trade, Splenda-free drivel.
To set the standard, I will now make up some sort of semi-rhyming prose for the purpose of my enjoyment (I'm no good at sudoku, this will have to do) and your entertainment.
Slow circles and sleepy descent,
A view from heaven, white to white.
From clouded sky, a tiny present,
And millions more, falling tight.
They lace the ground with grace and form,
And join hands with their neighbor.
The fortunate part of this snowy morn,
Is that the billions of tiny snowflakes will eventually form a thick enough blanket to obscure from public view the obscene word that a disgruntled junior-high student decided to spray paint onto the sidewalk because his parents disallowed him from going to a friend's house.
The moral of this poem is probably something about graffiti. Anyways, I hope that this is the beginning of a uplifting and symbiotic relationship.
Thank you for reading.
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