Enough

I am tired of not doing what I say I'm going to do and doing exactly what I say I'm not going to. I tell myself, "Okay, all you have to do today is this one assignment." Then I proceed to do everything but (as I am doing right now) until my work piles up on the day before everything is due, and in a frantic and desperate attempt to finish everything, I turn out a series of just pasable efforts to stave off the inevitable failure that will come my way unless I change something now. It's not just homework though. I'm too lazy to work, to lazy to finish the stupid novel, that stupid short story or those stupid poems. I don't have the motivation to finish books I love, even when they're assigned to me. And the worst of it is that my time with God has been utterly non-existant.

Furthermore I have personal convictions that have been present in my mind since I was thirteen years old, and I am tired of not walking in them. I am tired of being unable to say no because I am afraid of hurting someone's feelings. I'm tired of not being able to tell a person that I don't want to spend every waking moment with her (even though she is the one person I spend more time with than anyone or anything else) without her blowing up, and I'm tired of staving off the inevitable. I'm tired of being spineless, and I'm tired of feeling guilty for every five minutes I spend apart from her.

I'm tired of her asking for a future I can't promise and I begin to doubt is possible. I know this is going to suck. And I already feel like an ass.

Dammit

Why do stupid, trivial, easily avoidable things have to ruin good days? I wake up to a pancakes and bacon breakfast this morning, thinking, This is great! No class, great food, and lovely company. Now I can get caught up on all that crap I need to do.. But wait, turns out I did have class, I missed talking about my favorite character in the Old Testament for great books, I lost my phone, I have to miss a dinner date I've been planning for weeks, and by spending my time straightening this out I have accomplished nothing I intended on this day off. I need to get over this hump and get my butt in gear, or I'll blow this whole semester.

A sound without a voice, a song without a tune, resounding and echoing in this beautiful void

I try to gather thoughts and words to reflect the truth that I see,
but they fall like grains of sand through my fingers.
I know my words are less than drops in the Ocean
compared to giants like Milton, Poe Homer, I am less than a spot
in the vast array of poetry and prose,
and even they are but pebbles at the foot of the mountain
a puff of gas in the nebula, burning brightly and beautifully and then gone.

Even they are but drops in your ocean.
If they are so small,
microscopic titans, geniuses made playthings,
What can I ever hope to be?

“Vanity, vanity” Solomon called it.
Catching wisdom is impossible;
with every step I take it grows further and further
from where it seemed before my steps began.

All the books I can never read, all the things I can never see,
the discoveries made and the conclusions drawn as man grows into itself. . .
I can never see even a fraction of them.
There is too much!
I want to drown in these beautiful words, imagines, sounds, and ideas
I am drunk with them already, though I have not even finished my first sip.

The effort is hopeless, but not pointless, beautiful in its impossibility.
I see the perfect imbalance in the symmetry,
the perfect order in the chaos.

I run wildly like a dog chasing its tail,
not knowing why or what I’d do if I caught it,
but oh such a chase.

“Vanity,” he said. But such magnificent vanity!
All these thoughts and these wonders,
these marvels and miracles
I can never count them all.

Perfect stars in perfect constellations in perfect galaxies
that move in perfect harmony in the universe,
chords and notes and scales that layer into songs and themes and symphonies . . .

It explodes in brilliance, reborn every second
I can’t focus, I can’t say it all.
It’s too much. It’s too beautiful.

Oh God, to see your mind and the vast array of knowledge, of beauty, of truth. . .
the very idea is too sublime, to beautiful for words.
I am lost and drunk with the very inkling of it.

I’ll never be able to read and see and think and hear them all,
much less understand them.
Oh but I long to try. And I will.

I see your beauty in gentle curves of the female body,
as it dances through each day and night.
I see your wonder in the man’s back as he struggles,
moving mountains, poetry in motion.

Their embrace moves me to tears.
Oh Lord, my heart cannot bear the wonder.
It cannot hold it all. It will burst.
But don’t stop, let it burst and erupt in the wonder,
exploding into such a wondrous light that no star could ever rival.

They complement each other perfectly,
two bodies, one flesh,
two hearts, one soul.
The symmetry is so sublime.

I cannot stop to even my verses' feet,
to arrange my words in the perfect rhyme and rhythm I hear in my heart.
Science, history, citizenry, soldiery, books, songs, treatises,
farming, running, flight, questions, answers, drama, . . . it is all an art.

So beautiful is you creation, so beyond my pitiful vocabulary.
I see now that it is more than any of us could ever hope to know.
I see it in the perfect geometry in Babe Ruth’s swing and the
symmetry of two lovers embracing,
I hear it in the hum of Stevie Ray's guitar,
a soul older than time or earthly bodies,
older than himself,
singing with notes and chords and scales he cannot read,
reverberating and echoing long after he’s gone.

It’s in the effortless perfection in Poe’s meter, Milton’s tone,
in Dylan’s verses that sing with beauty that needs no pretty melody to be a song.
It’s in Sinatra’s voice, in David’s proudly undignified dance.
It’s in Rembrant’s brush, Da Vinci’s plans, Jefferson’s pen,
Einstein’s equations, and Euclid’s lines,
Perfect works pouring forth from imperfect vessels.

How can they make such things without you flowing through them?
How can any of it make anything that resembles sense without you?
How can man’s warring desires that enslave him
release their vicegrips on his mind without you?
How could reason, order, natural law, logic, or pattern emerge without your hand?
How could such things crawl out of the sea of random chance?
It seems more likely to drop a set of keys into a bucket of scrap metal,
Watching a porsche emerge. . .

I heart it in a baby's cry, I smell it in the rain, on the earth,
in the housewife’s feast, in the perfumed fields of Eden.
I feel it in the ground beneath me, in the air above me,
and in the bones and soul within me.

How can they say you hide, Lord?
You are everywhere, you are everything and more.
You pierce time, empty space, wandering thought,
muddled mind, troubled heart, and scarred soul. . .
I am overwhelmed.

Even your word,
the written embodiment of your glory,
is a faded, pitiful reflection
compared to the incomprehensible awe of your presence.

And I so I stand:
merely a sound without a voice,
a song without a tune,
resounding and echoing in this beautiful void
without ears to hear it
a key without a lock,
until you make all new
and fill in the missing colors of my paint by number dreams.

Your glory and magnificence transcend the words we use
to describe or even name them.
In abject humility, I lie, prostrate before you.
All I ask is to remain here at your feet,
drowning in the vast seas of your wonders,
catching beautiful, wonderful glimpses of light,
bouncing off a picture too vast for me to see.
All I know is that what I see has beauty,
beauty transcending my mind’s feeble imagination.

And so it ends. . .

My freshman year at college comes to a close. Goodbye thirty grand and one year of my life. This year brought its share of success and failure with it. I fell in love with poetry, literature, and theatre all over again. I earned high marks in several classes, scraped by in a few others, and even dropped one. I got my first lead role in any production ever. I got drunk for the first and probably the last time in my life. I pursued a few romantic interest, which in turn were filled with their own successes and failures. Two of them were just mistakes at parties. I had my first break up and my first full fledged relationship. And I may be in love for the first time. I changed my career path twice, and my roommate once. I learned how unbearable it can be to live with someone, and I also learned how rewarding it can be. I wrote some poems I am proud of and several I am not. I skipped class for the first time, and I earned a reputation for being late. I think I found out more about who I am, and I feel like I'm more comfortable with it now. I learned to be spontaneous, and I learned that I have more to offer this world than I had first believed. I have also discoverd several faults in myself, namely an need to be validated, lack of punctuality, laziness, and heedlessnes. I made a lot of friends and a few enemies. I'm saying goodbye to Plunket forever, and I'm saying goodbye to a few friends for now. This summer I'll see if I can get another job or if this relationship can survive a two hour distance.

Halfway over

I set out to do a lot of things this semester that I did not do, and the semester is halfway over. I hoped to achieve a lot this semester, and I'll be the first to admit my failures. Too many classes, too many lines too learn, too many things to think about. I bit off more than I could chew and it drove me to do things I never thought I would do. To blow of steam I ended up making a fool of myself at a party, becoming the very thing I looked down upon my whole life, a drunk hormonal idiot. And though it could have been much worse, my couple hours of fun costed me. I put myself in a place with someone I really should not have been in, not being fair to her feelings or mine. Not only that, but I hurt my reputation and credibility. I may have lost respect from a few people who I care for deeply, one in particular. How can I tell them what I believe to be true when I act like that? Will they always think less of me now? There more I think about it the more I realize how painfully insecure I am, and how other people are noticing.

I hate quitting more than I can say, mostly because it is something that spreads like wildfire, like the plague. I seem to have contracted this particular virus too. I quit calculus, (which I never should have signed up for) which is the closest to failing a class I have ever come. I quit reading for my classes, relying on sparknotes and my ability to bs my way through a discussion. Every day I start poems, stories, assignments, and ideas that still lie unfinished. I keep putting God, writing, and exercise on hold, wasting hours in front of a screen. And I am paying for it. Not to say that now I'm some reprobate bum now, and I'm absolutely hellbound. I know better than to be that melo-dramatic. I also know in the grand scheme of things these problems are insignificant. But I know I'm squandering what I have, and the time I have to use it.

At the same time I have accomplished things. I have learned. I have grown. I made new friends and rediscovered Shakespeare. I got a big role in a production and I tried some new things. I do have a few scars from this, but I know God can help me salvage what I need out of this, and I still have half a semester left. Let's see where it takes me. There are definitely still possibilities.

so many things to say

But I don't have the words for them. God has taken care of me in ways I had no idea he would. This semester will definitely be exciting, make no mistake. Balancing all of these classes (and a teacher that needs meds) along with everything else I have going on will make or break me. I got the part in the play I didn't dream of playing and a date with a girl I almost gave up hope on. I don't even have the free time to be writing this, but I need to remember today. Because when things get rough, and I know they will, I need to remember that today everything fell into place. Today calculus made sense. Today I sang on key. Today I knew what to do for my lines. Today I worked up the nerve to do what I wanted to a long time ago. Today I kissed a girl with dancing eyes. Today I'm on the eagle's wings and I can touch the sun, even if the storm and fall come tomorrow.

random thoughts

All begins with an idea: all theories, inventions, musings, writings, songs, paintings, poems, plays, and games. All begin with an idea, a spark that ignites the fire of human intellect, that launches men into the pursuit of some product or truth. Any man can memorize facts and crunch numbers. Any man can follow a plan. These things can be taught. But coming up with a plan is far more difficult. Can you teach that? Can you teach a man to dream?

People need fiction. They need fairy tales. We need to know that there are monsters in this world and that they can be defeated. We need to know that love is more powerful and more worthwhile than anything else in the world. We need to know that there is good in every man, and that good will eventually triumph over evil. We need to know that there some things with no price tag, and some things are worth dying for.

Modern life has become a quest for comfort and economic gain, an attempt to just survive. They tell you that life is boring, empty, and all that matters is what’s in your pocket. People don’t walk around saying, “Hello. My name name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” They don’t sacrifice everything for love. They are afraid to dream. They are afraid to try.

Fairy tales help us believe that these things exist, even if they only dwell in our imaginations. It is a spark hot enough to light a fire that keeps us alive. It keeps us alive and reminds us not to let our lives be mundane, boring and wasted. It reminds us that life is wild and precious and ultimately worth living

So I'm going to keep reading Tolkien and Lewis and Brooks and Lawhead, even if people tell me they're childish and that intelligent people read Hemmingway and Fitzgerald and Kafka. I'll write my silly stories no one else will read. Maybe it's stupid. Maybe it's childish. But I'm holding on to these childish ideas. I'll believe that good will conquer evil. I'll believe true love is out there. I'll believe in God. I'll believe in a world worth fighting for.

political frustrations

The more I think about it, the more I realize that George Washington was right. Political parties suck. Some of my friends used to consider me one of the most politically passionate people out there, but I grow weary of American politics. Our political process has been reduced to catering to special interest groups and lobbyists who care about nothing other than pushing their agenda.

What happened to "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country?" Everyone is asking for a hand out. Everyone is looking for someone to make life easier for them. Republicans, Democrats, it's all the same. Just different special interest groups to cater to while the needs of the country are ignored.

I am so sick of these petty politics getting in the way of what our country needs to do. I find myself agreeing with the right more often than the left, but I don't know if I really consider myself a Republican anymore. I don't think a Republican president has really stood for what I believe in since Ronald Reagan.

So I think I’m gonna follow Wendell Berry’s lead. I’ll denounce the Government and embrace the flag. I’ll watch the news with a hope that someday things will change, and these petty groups will think about the welfare of the nation instead of their own agendas. Maybe all it takes is one unselfish person to create a ripple, to spark others into working for something greater than themselves. Jesus did it. Ghandi did it. I have to believe it can happen. I have to believe that it will.

New Beginnings

I'm starting fresh. New classes, a new room, and a roommate. Thank God for the last one. The small changes have already made college life much more livable, and I have high hopes for what is coming. Maybe I'll find out exactly what I want out of this life. Maybe I can find a dream worth pursuing. It's a little late for new years resolutions, but I don't care. I need goals for this year, I think this will make me stick to them, and so here they are:

1. I am going to get back into shape. Not only do I want to be at the level I was before college, but I want to surpass it. Not just physically either. Physically, mentally, and spiritually I want to see progress.

2. I will finish (or at least attempt) rewriting and completing that stupid book.

3. I will waste less time. Not just time in front of a screen. I need to bring procrastination to a heel, and I know that I could be doing so much more with what I have. I don't want to look back with regret and have to wonder what I could have been if I had simply put forth the effort.

There it is, three goals. Let's see how this year goes.

Musings.

I am so tired of people saying that there is no truth. I am so tired of people saying that there is no right and wrong and that everything is relative. For all their nihilistic rationalistic arguments, they cannot deny that even the most reprobate man knows profoundly when he's been wronged, and I don't care what the psychologists or serial killers say, everyone has a conscience. Men quiet it with rationalizations of their actions or they lie to themselves, saying that right and wrong don't matter. But everyone knows the feeling they get when they consciously wrong someone. Men have a knowledge of good, whether that knowledge can be articulated or not.

But what about differences of opinion? What about when interests conflict? That's when things get fuzzy. But all of these things stem from some abstract concept of justice that we all somehow understand on a subliminal level. Furthermore, we all have at least some vague idea about what is beautiful and what is good. Relativism is bullshit. So is absolutism. It's not one or the other. Certain things are relative. But certain things are absolute.