concentrate. there's too much at stake.

Jibber Jabber

sometimes i just write. i don't know where it comes from or what it means or how it's applicable to me or anyone. but here is one of those times:

forgive me if i don't stand
i've only had a bit to drink
but stretch to me what is your hand
and i'll give you reason to think

hope down and ante up
we're all waitin' to fill our cup

Hollywood Horrors

Hollywood horrors don't necessarily involve a monster, blood or gore. I've often found myself terrified by the aspects of Hollywood as they have been attempted to be played out in real life. As I have attempted to play them out in my life.

I believe that we are pivotal in the writing of our own stories. We have the amazing gift of free will.

We have the option.

But danger makes its appearance in the moving-picture frames when we take it all on. When we become autobiographers. As powerful as my choices can be, they don't ultimately dictate the plot. No, the book that we're in is a complex masterpiece in which the Author's pen is uncomprehendingly being guided by His hand and ours at the same time.

i think.

Maybe it's less like a book being authored and more like a dance between us and Him.

He's leading us and we're following. But we have the ability to step on His toes, or let go of His hold. Not as fun. Not as good.

Whichever analogy suites your fancy doesn't really matter. Because either way we're moving.

The repeating question is: what is the balance between His moves and ours?

I don't know. I think I'm finding out.

Just pray before you plant yourself in one particular camp. Because it's highly likely that the camps we can align ourselves with could be heretical or misleading at best.

Just keep moving in the realness of what's around. Of life. Real life. And who knows? Maybe our stories will look a lot better than anything Hollywood ever puts out.

I GOT THE DPS JOB!!!!

Good pay?

Benefits?

Set schedule?

YES PLEASE!

I'm totally growing out my mustache.

Ripley's Reminders

Believe it or not I met a girl named Ripley today. She is the granddaughter of one of the volunteers at the church I'm currently working for as a part time administrator.

What does a part time administrator do, you ask?

They blog.

Anyway, back to Ripley. She was small. Probably the smallest human I've spoken to in a while. But her size wasn't unbefitting her age. She was somewhere between the ages of 7 and 10, I'd say.

Small people, namely: children, they just make me happy.

I don't know why. Maybe it's the fact that they enjoy the simplest things. Ripley pulled a small scotch tape dispenser from her grandmother's purse, her eyes widened, and you could hear Christmas in her voice. She was so excited.

I wish I would still get excited about things like that.

Here's a list of things I wish I still got excited about on a regular basis:

-Saturday morning cartoons (i would still get excited about these if 2 things happened: 1. the cartoons weren't creepy anime-esque freak shows and 2. if i woke up before noon on Saturdays)

-Hearing about Santa being spotted by air traffic controllers on Christmas Eve

-Luby's fried fish and mac and cheese (damn you studies-that-tell-me-about-how-dirty-Luby's-is)

-Go-Karts

-Finding quarters on the bottom of the pool instead of pennies. TWENTY FIVE CENTS!

Just to name a few.

But here's what I'm resolving to do:

I will remember what is great in this world. I will recognize the sweetness inside of everything that holds it. I will get excited even if it takes convincing myself that I should.

Therapy 101

Welcome to school.

Welcome to my monoblogue.

Good Morning America said this morning in an interview with...

Just kidding. 2 things I'm not a fan of:

1. People who use the word "irregardless". IT'S NOT A DAMN WORD!

2. Blogs about news shows. Why do I need one more stranger/feaux celebrity's commentary on what's happening in the world?

No no my friends, today much else will be monologued about.

I was on a Bible website this morning searching through scriptures hopefully to find something relatable or applicable to my life today. It's not very hard to do that, especially when you have the power of a search engine at your finger tips.

I wanted to see what the Bible said about my soul.

There's always been (at least in my past) references to our "spirit" and God's Holy Spirit as I've grown up in the church. But not really a lot of talk of our "soul". I just wanted to see if there were differences in how these words were used in context throughout the Bible.

Question: were there any differences?

Answer: yes.

I won't go crazy and get super theological on you. Don't worry. I'm just going to mention the one thing that stuck out to me. Well, maybe two...

1. The majority of the time the word "soul" is used, it's almost always siamesed with the word "heart".

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul."

"Love Him and serve Him with all your heart and soul."

And so on...

2. In the uses of the word that weren't paired up with "heart", the word "soul" was used in referring to the author's state, which was usually in torment, or anguish.

"My bitter soul must complain." -Job

"How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul." -David

And so on...

I don't know what any of that is to mean, or was meant to mean, if anything. Just interesting to see it.

I may speculate on it some other time, but for now, I'll let you think about it and I'll think about it. We can meet about it later.

Say, 3 o'clock at the monkey bars.

Be there or be square.

just a great quote

Have you spent so much time in the trenches that the walls of your rut are starting to look like the horizon? - Gary Hamel

and now for something completely different

once there was a boy who grew up.

he wandered, globetrotting for decades.

all of his wants seemed just ahead of him.

so he pressed on.

every day he would rise with the sun.

every night he would go down the same.

sun times he was moving.

moon times he was still.

greatness was what he was after.

not to be called great, but to find greatness.

greatness is more like a lion and less like a sun tan.

the tan he had.

walking, bussing, hitch hiking, they all gave him that.

but he didn't set out to become, he set out to find.

for years on years he roamed, looking for the lion.

directly behind him at all times was the unnamed voice.

pushing him.

to move forward.

"stop listening and start feeling.

stop looking and start breathing."

most days ignorance of the voice was easy.

caught up in the moment, it's quite simple to translate it inwardly.

not so simple to see what it really is.

not so simple to be what you really are.

but there were just enough days that ignorance escaped him.

drawing on his tendencies to withdraw, he had to feel it.

pushing him.

to move forward.

from outside his mind he could breathe.

and all it really took was a half dozen days or so to make him stop.

stop listening.

stop looking.

and to start feeling.

and to start breathing.

the lion escaped him, but at the end of his road was a lake.

ready to refresh he bent down to be startled by what was reflected.

it was him. he was a lion.

he found what he had become.

and he jumped in and enjoyed it fully.

Spare Me

SPOILER NOTICE: The following blog posting was not intended to contain any amount of admittance of guilt or acknowledgement of my weakness as a human. But as is the case in any act of pouring, trace amounts found its way out of the bowl and on the carpet. This could get a little messy.

On a scale from 1 to 10, last night ranks: super weird and "what the hell happened"?

Without going into too much detail (refer to post title) here's how it went down:

1. catch up with my best friend Trey Low and spend hours talking about really hard things. Really good things. Really bad things. Really, almost all things. A very challenging time that pushed me to think about my current state in a way that I haven't.

All in all: a great start to the evening. (zero sarcasm)

2. Go meet other friends for $1 Tecate's at a little bar on the east side near where I used to live. Met some new people, had some great conversations that were uplifting and encouraging to my faith.

For #2 it ranked well. (baby amounts of sarcasm)

3. Throw myself off of a cliff and call someone I haven't called in a really long time. Someone I haven't called for good reason. Which led me down a path of wanton disregard for all things around me, thirsting insatiably for my own desires to be met.

A fantastic decision. (nothing but sarcasm)

4. Those desires? They weren't met. (back to zero sarcasm)

5. I tossed and turned all night, wallowing in my sick sense of self because of how I chose to end my night.

What is wrong with me? What is wrong with us? That I so quickly forget the forgiveness that gives me breath? That we so quickly run to the shiniest toys?

In my head, there is no way God isn't pissed off about this. I mean, there's just no possible way that He, having given us His son... His ONLY F-ing SON... to die a miserable death, isn't just wringing his Hands and turning certain shades of red.

"HOW ON MY GREEN EARTH CAN THESE IDIOTS KEEP ON LIVING THE WAY THEY DO???!!?!?! NOT ONLY HAVE I GIVEN THEM A WAY OUT OF SHIT THEY WALLOW IN, I HAVE PUT THEM UP HIGH ON A PEDESTAL NEXT TO ME!!!"

I'm not one for outlandish "signs" or physically manifested miracles, even still, I would put up quite the bet that God would never say such a thing.

Here's what's true: God's grace and His love and all things about Him are too big to be swayed or effected by my baby wrecking ball tries.

Here's how I feel at the moment: stupid. disappointed. well destroyed by my wrecking tries.

But I'll refer back to my title now.

If you've read all this I guess I'd like to say: just go after something better than what you want after drinking 6 Tecate's. Because there's a lot that falls into that category. A lot of really great things.