Pragmatic idealist...was that it?

That should be pragmatic dreamer...or really anything that is a reminder of my contradictory silliness.

Yay for being a pragmatic realist.

Scattered thoughts...all across the horizon.
Time is spent far too quickly, just as expensive as blood.
Where are things going?
Spinning out of sync?
At least there is healing in the silence.
Redemption even of this hour.

Too many thoughts...and nowhere enough time or ability to make sense of them.

I can't keep track of all the memories.

I suppose in ways it would be nice to find a way to just purge things...organize, find a way to make sense of things...

Nothing is slowing down or stopping to make sense.
It just continues to spiral off in directions all helter skelter like.

A Quarter of a Century

Meep.

Such a silly roller coaster of health.

I always plan on writing some long introspective piece about my life on this day...but it just doesn't happen.

Which is a metaphor for life.
I think part of the reason I am not writing as much...is because when I am busy living life...I forget to write.

Most of my problems occur when I have far too much free time to lay down, think and hurt.

Sure I've spent most of today alone in a physical sense...but I have had phone calls, voice mails and emails from wonderful people.

I can get out and see people any day...it says something when people put forth the effort to come find you.

I am far, far, far too tired and sick to spend it at a loud, busy and dramatic place...instead I look forward to spending it with just a couple of people...here, later, another time, another place...another way, another day...maybe even another Age.

Time with continue to flow.

With or without me.

While I am here...I need to breath, to feel myself rocked by the ebb and flow of time...that I was born for this day, this age...purpose.

Purpose I may never understand.

But I try, I will try and will never give up.

I can say thank You Father, with an exhausted and knowing smile.
I will doubt.
I will hurt.
But this heart, this soul cannot be killed.
I will get sicker.
The flesh will fail...but one day all of this will be healed.
Everything made new.

Until then I hope in an impossible God whose love has carried me further then I ever thought possible.

"As the Ruin Falls" by C.S. Lewis

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love --a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.

For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.

And...I'm about to be a quarter of a century old.
Good heavens.
I need to reevaluate this whole aging and growing up thing.

Despite my passive aggressive silliness...being the bigger person is always nice.

Moral high ground for the win.

Hrmm...it may be slightly evil that I cackle every time I realize that I am freed from and no longer have to tolerate certain people and their questionable...immaturity.

Cackle that I am free and that some other much more naive and foolish person than I is the acting man of the hour...or minute as it were.

Less fever, less chills and being able to stand up without the world spinning and trying to throw me off of it.

Woohoo!

Evidently whatever that doesn't kill me, or cause me to spontaneously combust, may make me stronger.

Or just weaker until I have a group of my Mitochondria team up and cause me to blow up like in "Parasite Eve".

Plus side, I won't need a night light for reading while it goes on.

Although being burned and sort of a dead husk might put a damper on the plans for getting a doctorate.

But being know as 'Professor Explosion' or 'Doctor X-OMG-FDHAX-WTF?!? Explosions!' just has so much potential.

...although getting it to fit on the name tag will prove problematic...

What is it with me and being sick?
I don't know how many days...or really months I have spent in bed.
Sick.
At least I am in the Continental United States.
And not in a completely foreign bed.
Yay for pit packs, damp cloths, orange Gatorade and being able to just breath.

Even though I do not know how I got here...I'm grateful to have made it.

I can't wait to see a smile...help return it...and brighten that day.

Chills and a fever!

Wooo!

The fact God not only loves but chases after us silly people...such an impossible and improbable miracle...that only grows more beautiful by the day.

Day Three of the Migraine

Perhaps the most annoying thing of all is I can't find refuge in sleep.

The plus side...is that despite how frustrating and confusing things are with life, school, the universe...well everything...I am silly enough to still have hope.

A cynical hope that is tempered with my sardonic humor...but hope that goes from here through the depths of eternity...that if my God, my Jesus, loves me then He can and does love all.

It just gets a bit complicated from there.

Blue and Orange Morality

I can't really sit in smug judgement.
But the more I learn about some people...and most importantly how little regard they treat others...I find nothing more disgusting.

That someone would go out of their way to use...lead and draw others on...I am not sure there is a worst evil than exploiting a vulnerable person...

God help them.
And God help me to not become a smug hypocrite that will do this and spread hatred.

Yay for migraines lasting twelve hours and still counting!

=D

Life.
Words.
Meaning.

Amazing 14 foot long scarf.
Family, friends...well friends that are family...and love.

Caring.
Beauty.
Impossible beauty in this painful life.

Beautiful meaning of words that are played out in life.
Things I could never be.
Things I could never see.

Acceptance and want of me.
So silly.
Impossible.
But warm socks.

Such great, wonderful and beautiful things.

I am not sure what it looks like...but there is always hope.
Not for every cause.
Not for every reason.
Not for every flutter of my heart.

But a steady, living, pulsing hope that this broken physical shell is not the end.
Just the beginning of so much.
So very much.

It still disturbs me to no end that The Nostalgia Chick looks exactly like a girl that I had a crush on for such a long time.

o_O

It is so strange to not...be writing so much.
A block.
Ridiculous emotional sentiments that are unwanted.

Concerning myself with things that have no concern, no meaning, no sense of anything to do with me...and yet, I include myself...

So strange.
More than ever I just feel like a stranger looking out from the eyes of a body, of a soul, of a person who isn't me...

I ask...I wonder...

Is this my smile?
Is that my voice speaking?
Are these my hands that shake from pain and stress?

Being alive, having life itself is a miracle...
But I am not other boys...other...men, dare I say.
I don't look at women as cattle.
Things to own, brand, use, consume and destroy.
Life has meaning.
All life.
Even when I am confused and hurting.

Which is why I must pray.
Not to try and move God.
But that maybe, finally, I can be moved out of this vacuum, this void of pain.