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.