I'm starting to remember what I dislike about sitting on my rear for hours trying to find the correct answers for too many questions in a row.
I'm starting to remember the thrill of figuring the right answer after trying twenty times.
I'm starting to remember the frustration of fighting against stupid english courses that tell me to believe in not using incomplete sentences.
In short, school returneth.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Saturday, September 10, 2005
I was singing Larry Norman. Not even his most impactful song, as far as I'm concerned. The one that goes,
I've been shot down/
kicked around/
some people scandalize my name./
But here I am talking 'bout Jesus just the same.
Talkin' bout Jesus. Shouldn't that be what it's about? Talking about Jesus, living for him, putting him first before everything else? Going out and doing what we think he's leading us to.
But it's not. I tell myself that if I was forced to choose I'd stand as a martyr for him. But How could I? When I don't even do the simple act of having time with him regularly in a country where I'm free to do so. When I don't even bother asking him to guide me except when I'm stressed and I need relief. But only to fix my mistakes.
I go through life. I've set my standards. I know where I draw my lines at what's wrong. Still mildly confused when faced with some stuff. But I try to follow the guidelines given to me. But then I don't read them. Because I think I find them boring.
I get caught up in theology. And I think we should learn through it. Study it. Form our opinions. And be able to face the tougher questions. But at which point did it turn from 'Yeah, brother!' to 'Yeah, but do you accept your denomination's doctrine?'.
There's a lot of important issues out there. And they need to be faced. But in the end it needs to come back to what's basic. And what's important.
So let's hear it.
There is love in the red letters/
There is truth in the red letters/
There is hope for the hopeless/
Peace and forgiveness/
There is life, in the red letters/
in the red letters. (lyrics gratis of DC Talk)
And you have no idea how hard it's been for me to keep this post as simple and basic as I have.
I've been shot down/
kicked around/
some people scandalize my name./
But here I am talking 'bout Jesus just the same.
Talkin' bout Jesus. Shouldn't that be what it's about? Talking about Jesus, living for him, putting him first before everything else? Going out and doing what we think he's leading us to.
But it's not. I tell myself that if I was forced to choose I'd stand as a martyr for him. But How could I? When I don't even do the simple act of having time with him regularly in a country where I'm free to do so. When I don't even bother asking him to guide me except when I'm stressed and I need relief. But only to fix my mistakes.
I go through life. I've set my standards. I know where I draw my lines at what's wrong. Still mildly confused when faced with some stuff. But I try to follow the guidelines given to me. But then I don't read them. Because I think I find them boring.
I get caught up in theology. And I think we should learn through it. Study it. Form our opinions. And be able to face the tougher questions. But at which point did it turn from 'Yeah, brother!' to 'Yeah, but do you accept your denomination's doctrine?'.
There's a lot of important issues out there. And they need to be faced. But in the end it needs to come back to what's basic. And what's important.
So let's hear it.
There is love in the red letters/
There is truth in the red letters/
There is hope for the hopeless/
Peace and forgiveness/
There is life, in the red letters/
in the red letters. (lyrics gratis of DC Talk)
And you have no idea how hard it's been for me to keep this post as simple and basic as I have.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Both of us sitting at either end of the couch. Under our own blankets, and deep in our own books. Our toes touching. Aware the other is there. But not thinking of it. Unless we come to a section of our book that needs sharing. Or let our minds wander to a thought we need to tell the other. Until we're back in our books.
I involved in the plot of an Agatha Cristie. Her deep in some philosophical novel. And each of us planning to read the other's. Once they're through, of course.
I involved in the plot of an Agatha Cristie. Her deep in some philosophical novel. And each of us planning to read the other's. Once they're through, of course.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
When I was younger and hair wraps were big I used to want one. To sit on those lawn chairs at those outdoor markets and have some hippi chick bedeck my hair in my chosen colours. I believe Meg and I tried on our own a couple times. We weren't very succesful.
Which is why I agreed on spontaneousness today. I was wondering the town. Studying graffiti, realizing the college was closed (Sat. Duh), and eating fresh butter buns from the bakery. Oh yes, and visiting the last weekend market of the year. Between not buying eggs and buying half a pound of hot peppers I walked past a table set up by a couple younger girls I mostly know.
"Do you want a hair wrap?"
Laughs. "I don't have much in the way of hair."
"Oh well. Then it's cheaper"
"About how much?"
Shrugs all 'round, "Depends what you want to pay."
I was shown a gift bag full of tangled embroidery thread, and three samples.
"O.k. Where's your longest hair?"
"Oh man. I don't know. Just choose somewhere."
"eeny meeny miny mo."
Five minutes later I handed over fifty cents and walked away. A one short section of my layered hair striped in tangerine and aqua blue.
Maybe they're not quite hippis. And I don't have that long strand that can swing in front of my face anymore. But I have a hair wrap.
Which is why I agreed on spontaneousness today. I was wondering the town. Studying graffiti, realizing the college was closed (Sat. Duh), and eating fresh butter buns from the bakery. Oh yes, and visiting the last weekend market of the year. Between not buying eggs and buying half a pound of hot peppers I walked past a table set up by a couple younger girls I mostly know.
"Do you want a hair wrap?"
Laughs. "I don't have much in the way of hair."
"Oh well. Then it's cheaper"
"About how much?"
Shrugs all 'round, "Depends what you want to pay."
I was shown a gift bag full of tangled embroidery thread, and three samples.
"O.k. Where's your longest hair?"
"Oh man. I don't know. Just choose somewhere."
"eeny meeny miny mo."
Five minutes later I handed over fifty cents and walked away. A one short section of my layered hair striped in tangerine and aqua blue.
Maybe they're not quite hippis. And I don't have that long strand that can swing in front of my face anymore. But I have a hair wrap.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
I just bought gas. And then I remembered that today was the day I was supposed to "stick it up their behind". Meaning if the whole of North America didn't get gas then prices would have to drop.
I don't know who starts those things. You gotta know they won't work. And let me tell you, I wasn't the only one not buying gas.
There's about two places in town that stayed twenty cents cheaper then everywhere else today. And I had to get in on it.
I think maybe I should give up driving all together.
I don't know who starts those things. You gotta know they won't work. And let me tell you, I wasn't the only one not buying gas.
There's about two places in town that stayed twenty cents cheaper then everywhere else today. And I had to get in on it.
I think maybe I should give up driving all together.
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