My friend Ben and I stopped at a Goodwill today. He was in need of a pair of swimming trunks, because we were on our way to swim in a community pool of an apartment complex. It's illegal to do so, of course. But we live to spite rules and regulations.
He had to decide between swimming trunks in the American flag style, or a pair with skulls all over them.
He chose the skulls.
I would have chosen the American flag, because I'm a rebel, and that's what America is based off of.
While he was in the changing room, I looked at the book section. I consider myself an amateur book collector. I'm well on my way to opening up my own little used book store (Filled only with books that I deem worthy of a spot on my shelf).
I found amongst all of the sappy paper-back romance novels and 1980-styled guides to raising your kids and home gardening a little brown book entitled Strayer-Upton Arithmetics Higher Grade (Published in 1928).
"This [book] aims to give pupils the ability to compute easily and accurately, and to enable them to interpret and solve the quantitative situations which they will meet in life." And so on and so forth goes the Preface to this dry little brown book.
Thank you, Messrs. George D. Strayer, Ph.D. and Clifford B. Upton, A.M for devoting perhaps years of your life to this noble service. I'm sure someone in this world might have been forced to reluctantly stick their nose into those pages and read about Trade Discounts. And I'm sure they're much better because of it.
No, I'm being too harsh. Arithmetics has its values, and I am in no place to disregard them. However, I don't understand how anyone could cope with themselves after writing a textbook of any sorts.
I bought the book. It's classy, and maybe some day when I need to learn about Trade Discounts, I will know where to look.
Thursday, June 23
Sunday, June 19
Memories
I talked to a friend of mine from Mexico yesterday on the phone. It was good to hear his voice again, to be able to laugh with him again. It brought back everything. He said he just visited Mexico, to see everything again. He says it's not exactly our Mexico any more. I guess the moment we left, it became somebody else's Mexico. And we can try all we can, but will probably never be able to call it home again.
Memory is such a strange thing. Mexico exists to me, the Mexico that I call home, that I will never get to again. It exists in my memory. It's like it has a certain place in my mind, where I can get small flashes of my old bedroom, or a song that I was listening to, or my Mexican church, or Binimea, or the people around me who made Mexico home.
I'm at a crossroads of emotions right now. I feel like I've lost something, because I will never be able to be in the Mexico that I remember. It is something that has happened to me, has passed through me, or I have passed through it. And now it is behind me. And if I had not savored it and payed attention to it while I was in it, it would definitely be separate from me. All I have are the memories.
But at the same time I have gained something. Well... i've gained everything. Mexico was my life. It gave me myself, I guess. I am the summation of what is now behind me. I'm the product of it. I've gained memories, good memories. And friendships. These things could never be mine unless Mexico was a reality. And the reality also was that people must move on, me included.
I think the main reason that Mexico will never be the Mexico I know is because the people that I shared that Mexico with are gone. The friends that I made, the common grounds upon which we understood each other. This is what made Mexico home. Without them, it's just another place south of Texas.
Memory is such a strange thing. Mexico exists to me, the Mexico that I call home, that I will never get to again. It exists in my memory. It's like it has a certain place in my mind, where I can get small flashes of my old bedroom, or a song that I was listening to, or my Mexican church, or Binimea, or the people around me who made Mexico home.
I'm at a crossroads of emotions right now. I feel like I've lost something, because I will never be able to be in the Mexico that I remember. It is something that has happened to me, has passed through me, or I have passed through it. And now it is behind me. And if I had not savored it and payed attention to it while I was in it, it would definitely be separate from me. All I have are the memories.
But at the same time I have gained something. Well... i've gained everything. Mexico was my life. It gave me myself, I guess. I am the summation of what is now behind me. I'm the product of it. I've gained memories, good memories. And friendships. These things could never be mine unless Mexico was a reality. And the reality also was that people must move on, me included.
I think the main reason that Mexico will never be the Mexico I know is because the people that I shared that Mexico with are gone. The friends that I made, the common grounds upon which we understood each other. This is what made Mexico home. Without them, it's just another place south of Texas.
Saturday, June 18
DELO?
I work at a place called the DELO testing center. I've never found out what DELO stands for. I think there's a sign of the acronym outside of this room that i walk by every day, but I guess it's just one of those things that I never pay attention to, like the brand names of my shampoo, or the name of that one guy that I met my freshman year of college and forgot.
Right now I run the check-in counter, which is an adventure in and of itself.
They just moved the desk, positioning it in such a way that my right side is facing the entrance. An unintentional consequence of this is that whenever a tester comes in, they approach me directly to my right. Me being a man of business, I like having a desk between me and the person I'm talking to. When people come to me to my right, I feel like they want to give me a hug or something. There's no barrier. It's like we're friends or something.
The conversation will go something like this:
Tester: (While approaching me to my right) "Mumble, mumble... Test... mumble... eleven o'-mumble...."
By the words "Eleven o'mumble", they're already too close and I can smell the cigarettes on their clothes (For some reason 80% of the testers here smell smokey).
Me: (Cowering slightly to my left, to avoid both the hug and the smell) "Alright, could I see your ID?"
They hand me their ID. Usually, the picture looks something like the actual person. Most of the time, the actual is a bit chubbier than the pictured. Or there's a hair difference. And sometimes there's no similarity whatsoever, and the person that is actually there was payed by the one in the picture to take the test for them. Some people!
However, there's something I can always count on: The ID will always smell like cigarettes. Thank goodness for a little continuity in my life.
Me: "Okay, you can go ahead and fill this out." I point them to the front of my desk (where they're supposed to be anyway) and show them a yellow sheet with the official name "Memorandum of Understanding." They finally shuffle along to the front of my desk, and I feel much better about myself, having thwarted the dangers of a hug.
While they busy themselves with the Memorandum of Understanding, I pull out a plastic box.
"If you could turn your cell phone off and put it in this box..."
I never really know where I'm going with that. Somewhere in the middle of that sentence I just expect things to work out, and if they don't, my words just kind of trail off into nothingness.
Usually, they look at me in complete confusion.
Tester: "It's off."
Me: "Alright, well if you could put it in this box......." (again, no direction whatsoever)
Tester: "You want me to put my cell phone in that box?"
Me: "Yes..."
Tester: "But it's my cell phone."
Me: "I realize that. But it's our policy that you should put your cell phone in this box. So if you could... do that....."
They reluctantly do the dreaded task, placing their iPhone 4 (smelling of cigarettes) into the plastic box. I swiftly close the lid, and the tester lets out a small gasp (sometimes even a squeak (sometimes, perhaps even a sigh of relief)).
And sometimes, I can see it in people's eyes when I take the cell phone away from them. A slight glimmer. I'm giving them something. I'm showing them that they Can survive out there without a mobile device. I'm doing the world a favor here.
I'm giving people hope.
Maybe the DELO testing center is in reality a rehabilitation center for mobile device addicts. I might be a really selfless person without knowing it.
With all that said, they go take their test while I watch them ever so diligently to make sure they are honest and true. And if they get an A, I give them a hug. No really.
Right now I run the check-in counter, which is an adventure in and of itself.
They just moved the desk, positioning it in such a way that my right side is facing the entrance. An unintentional consequence of this is that whenever a tester comes in, they approach me directly to my right. Me being a man of business, I like having a desk between me and the person I'm talking to. When people come to me to my right, I feel like they want to give me a hug or something. There's no barrier. It's like we're friends or something.
The conversation will go something like this:
Tester: (While approaching me to my right) "Mumble, mumble... Test... mumble... eleven o'-mumble...."
By the words "Eleven o'mumble", they're already too close and I can smell the cigarettes on their clothes (For some reason 80% of the testers here smell smokey).
Me: (Cowering slightly to my left, to avoid both the hug and the smell) "Alright, could I see your ID?"
They hand me their ID. Usually, the picture looks something like the actual person. Most of the time, the actual is a bit chubbier than the pictured. Or there's a hair difference. And sometimes there's no similarity whatsoever, and the person that is actually there was payed by the one in the picture to take the test for them. Some people!
However, there's something I can always count on: The ID will always smell like cigarettes. Thank goodness for a little continuity in my life.
Me: "Okay, you can go ahead and fill this out." I point them to the front of my desk (where they're supposed to be anyway) and show them a yellow sheet with the official name "Memorandum of Understanding." They finally shuffle along to the front of my desk, and I feel much better about myself, having thwarted the dangers of a hug.
While they busy themselves with the Memorandum of Understanding, I pull out a plastic box.
"If you could turn your cell phone off and put it in this box..."
I never really know where I'm going with that. Somewhere in the middle of that sentence I just expect things to work out, and if they don't, my words just kind of trail off into nothingness.
Usually, they look at me in complete confusion.
Tester: "It's off."
Me: "Alright, well if you could put it in this box......." (again, no direction whatsoever)
Tester: "You want me to put my cell phone in that box?"
Me: "Yes..."
Tester: "But it's my cell phone."
Me: "I realize that. But it's our policy that you should put your cell phone in this box. So if you could... do that....."
They reluctantly do the dreaded task, placing their iPhone 4 (smelling of cigarettes) into the plastic box. I swiftly close the lid, and the tester lets out a small gasp (sometimes even a squeak (sometimes, perhaps even a sigh of relief)).
And sometimes, I can see it in people's eyes when I take the cell phone away from them. A slight glimmer. I'm giving them something. I'm showing them that they Can survive out there without a mobile device. I'm doing the world a favor here.
I'm giving people hope.
Maybe the DELO testing center is in reality a rehabilitation center for mobile device addicts. I might be a really selfless person without knowing it.
With all that said, they go take their test while I watch them ever so diligently to make sure they are honest and true. And if they get an A, I give them a hug. No really.
Friday, June 17
Purpose
Tonight was the first night in my life that I feel like I simply did nothing more than exist.
During the semester, I guess I've given myself the illusion that all the hubbub of academic and social success gives a sort of purpose to my life. Being surrounded by stuff that you either have to do or want to do sort of gives off that effect, I guess.
Or rather, it dismisses the whole idea of Purpose at all. Being busy just gives you something to do, gives you a bad excuse to not wonder why you're being busy. And when you're not busy, you start thinking, which is a dangerous past time, indeed.
So this morning my parents decided to take a little road trip down to Florida for a week. On top of this, both of my sisters are married. On top of This this, I have no more siblings. The result of this was me, waking up by myself, eating breakfast by myself, leaving an empty house to go to work, coming back to an empty house, and then sort of... existing... by myself the rest of the night.
When I got back from work, I had absolutely nothing to do. I then did something that I feel gives a lot of insight onto human nature in general: I started finding things to do. I cleaned out my closet. I ate dinner. I fed the dog. I wrote music. I watched tv.
Looking back on today, I feel like the mentality was "Find ways to waste time until I have to go to sleep."
When I realized this I was pretty ashamed of myself. I've always been one to try to make the most of the time I've been given. At least I always felt like I was, but then a really sad though hit me: Isn't that what everybody does, anyway? Don't we all just find things to do in our lives to just fill the space between the moment we enter reality until the moment we leave it? I don't mean to be too despicably pessimistic about the humans, but, if you think about it, it's kind of true. I mean, why else would we have so much... stuff... in our lives? Tons (literal tons) of entertainment, movies, video games, hobbies, music.... Could I even go so far as to say Religion and Academics?
I feel like humanity is just sort of saying "Well, we're here. We have no idea why we're here, or even how we got here, and what happens once we're not here, but we're here nonetheless. Soo.... what do we do with ourselves?" And then they started building stuff and observing the world around them and using those observations to create new ways to make our time in reality more passable. Then the human sub group that i was born into decided that it was good enough to sit on top of all the progress of humanity and pass the time by twiddling their thumbs, chasing careers and marriages and Religions and hobbies until they get bored.
And this isn't a cut against religion. I just thought I'd point that out.
I don't know... I feel like all I did was twiddle my thumbs today, finding ways to pass the time until I sleep. I've tasted the basis of what I hope isn't what this life is all about. I hope there is something more, and I hope I can find it.
During the semester, I guess I've given myself the illusion that all the hubbub of academic and social success gives a sort of purpose to my life. Being surrounded by stuff that you either have to do or want to do sort of gives off that effect, I guess.
Or rather, it dismisses the whole idea of Purpose at all. Being busy just gives you something to do, gives you a bad excuse to not wonder why you're being busy. And when you're not busy, you start thinking, which is a dangerous past time, indeed.
So this morning my parents decided to take a little road trip down to Florida for a week. On top of this, both of my sisters are married. On top of This this, I have no more siblings. The result of this was me, waking up by myself, eating breakfast by myself, leaving an empty house to go to work, coming back to an empty house, and then sort of... existing... by myself the rest of the night.
When I got back from work, I had absolutely nothing to do. I then did something that I feel gives a lot of insight onto human nature in general: I started finding things to do. I cleaned out my closet. I ate dinner. I fed the dog. I wrote music. I watched tv.
Looking back on today, I feel like the mentality was "Find ways to waste time until I have to go to sleep."
When I realized this I was pretty ashamed of myself. I've always been one to try to make the most of the time I've been given. At least I always felt like I was, but then a really sad though hit me: Isn't that what everybody does, anyway? Don't we all just find things to do in our lives to just fill the space between the moment we enter reality until the moment we leave it? I don't mean to be too despicably pessimistic about the humans, but, if you think about it, it's kind of true. I mean, why else would we have so much... stuff... in our lives? Tons (literal tons) of entertainment, movies, video games, hobbies, music.... Could I even go so far as to say Religion and Academics?
I feel like humanity is just sort of saying "Well, we're here. We have no idea why we're here, or even how we got here, and what happens once we're not here, but we're here nonetheless. Soo.... what do we do with ourselves?" And then they started building stuff and observing the world around them and using those observations to create new ways to make our time in reality more passable. Then the human sub group that i was born into decided that it was good enough to sit on top of all the progress of humanity and pass the time by twiddling their thumbs, chasing careers and marriages and Religions and hobbies until they get bored.
And this isn't a cut against religion. I just thought I'd point that out.
I don't know... I feel like all I did was twiddle my thumbs today, finding ways to pass the time until I sleep. I've tasted the basis of what I hope isn't what this life is all about. I hope there is something more, and I hope I can find it.
Tuesday, June 14
Artistic Inspiration
Today I started the third season of Boy Meets World and the first Season of Heroes.
I sort of want to be a film producer some day. I don't know how I could justify that, because movies are expensive. And the world needs a lot more useful things than just another amusing movie on their hands. However, I think the film industry has an incredibly powerful voice in the world, and I think it might be worth the risk to be part of that voice.
I would feel guilty if the major effect of my career would be to distract the upper class citizens of the world from reality, to give them mere amusement rather than entertaining inspiration. I feel like that's the only stuff that fills the cinemas these days. Amusement. Distraction-- movies that make the viewer merely want to be the characters in the movie, rather than inspiring them to do something just as daring in their own lives.
I want to be able to inspire people. Artistic inspiration. I want to give an audience something that they can keep, something that they can do something with.
I don't know exactly what I'm talking about.
Film Production...
What do you think?
I sort of want to be a film producer some day. I don't know how I could justify that, because movies are expensive. And the world needs a lot more useful things than just another amusing movie on their hands. However, I think the film industry has an incredibly powerful voice in the world, and I think it might be worth the risk to be part of that voice.
I would feel guilty if the major effect of my career would be to distract the upper class citizens of the world from reality, to give them mere amusement rather than entertaining inspiration. I feel like that's the only stuff that fills the cinemas these days. Amusement. Distraction-- movies that make the viewer merely want to be the characters in the movie, rather than inspiring them to do something just as daring in their own lives.
I want to be able to inspire people. Artistic inspiration. I want to give an audience something that they can keep, something that they can do something with.
I don't know exactly what I'm talking about.
Film Production...
What do you think?
Sunday, June 12
The Wild Hunt
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dg26PIUyXUg&feature=channel_video_title
I just recently told a friend that I somehow feel tied down. When it comes to music, part of me wants to experiment with layers until I die, with acoustic sounds, electronic sounds, electric guitars, you know... the works. The other part just wants to be another Tallest Man On Earth, bringing nothing to the table but exceptional song lyrics and guitar pickings.
People have told me that it's okay, that I can sound like however I want to sound like, and not let the expectations of my audience limit me in my creative endeavors. I completely agree with them now, though I didn't at one time in my life. I mean, Mew sounds like Mew, and I want them to sound like Mew. The minute they start sounding like something different than what they are, I didn't really see the point. But that was my view when I was a listener. As a creator of music, it's a lot different. Music is this magic box that you're too curious to just leave be. You have to explore it, or you're not really doing music justice.
Anyway, I'm rambling.
But what I was originally talking about was the purist sound of The Tallest Man on Earth. His entire album is just him on a guitar, and then the last song on a piano. It's so simple and small-towny, but it's extremely powerful.
Sometimes I just want to be him.
Anyway, I guess you can tell that it's not possible, as I've covered his song with about ten tracks. Haha. I can't even go near one of his songs without letting my curiosity get the best of me. I'm hopeless.
So I hope you enjoyed this one. I definitely enjoyed making it. I like working with beats. You get to move with the music in a different way than with other instruments. I like it.
Thanks for listening!
Isaac
I just recently told a friend that I somehow feel tied down. When it comes to music, part of me wants to experiment with layers until I die, with acoustic sounds, electronic sounds, electric guitars, you know... the works. The other part just wants to be another Tallest Man On Earth, bringing nothing to the table but exceptional song lyrics and guitar pickings.
People have told me that it's okay, that I can sound like however I want to sound like, and not let the expectations of my audience limit me in my creative endeavors. I completely agree with them now, though I didn't at one time in my life. I mean, Mew sounds like Mew, and I want them to sound like Mew. The minute they start sounding like something different than what they are, I didn't really see the point. But that was my view when I was a listener. As a creator of music, it's a lot different. Music is this magic box that you're too curious to just leave be. You have to explore it, or you're not really doing music justice.
Anyway, I'm rambling.
But what I was originally talking about was the purist sound of The Tallest Man on Earth. His entire album is just him on a guitar, and then the last song on a piano. It's so simple and small-towny, but it's extremely powerful.
Sometimes I just want to be him.
Anyway, I guess you can tell that it's not possible, as I've covered his song with about ten tracks. Haha. I can't even go near one of his songs without letting my curiosity get the best of me. I'm hopeless.
So I hope you enjoyed this one. I definitely enjoyed making it. I like working with beats. You get to move with the music in a different way than with other instruments. I like it.
Thanks for listening!
Isaac
Saturday, June 11
Happiness
I think I've gotten too comfortable with myself.
I've spent the last half hour freaking out that my bank account only has around five hundred dollars in it, when I expected at least eight hundred dollars.
I got too excited about getting a new cell phone. Nothing wrong with new cell phones. Or being excited about them. But... I don't know... I feel materialistic. I feel dirty. I feel fake.
I feel like I should go somewhere. I don't know where. Just leave... and look for something somewhere else. I don't know what to look for. What could I find in Europe that's not at home?
But home is home. It's my bubble. It's my safe place where nothing too exciting happens, where life is predictable and I have to find things to worry and get excited about, like bank accounts and cell phones.
Europe is... well... not home. It's unpredictable and outside of myself. Dangerous, almost, because it's a mystery. I feel like I should go there, or somewhere like it, and come to grasp the dangerous and the foreign. I feel like that might make me more real somehow. But maybe that's a materialistic dream in and of itself. I guess I wouldn't be loving an actual material object, but I would be looking to the atmosphere and the surroundings to make me happy.
I want to come to a point in my life where I don't have to force happiness up out of myself. Because that's exactly what I do sometimes. I don't feel happy, so I buy something or I try to get people to pay attention to me so that I'll feel happy again. I consciously force happiness onto me, and maybe I feel happy for a while as a result, but in the end I'm never happy. I don't buy very many things, and I don't have very many friends, but a lot of times the things I do have and the attention that I get from friends are usually the result of my pursuit of happiness.
Perhaps happiness is only the byproduct of something greater. Maybe if I lift the focus from happiness and put the focus onto a certain object, say a person or God, and admire and love the object for what it is, perhaps happiness will come to me.
This concept is a crazy one which I can never express correctly. If you want a good expression of this concept, read Surprised by Joy.
Grandma and my mom are cutting out linen to make scrubbies.
Do you know what a scrubby is?
I've spent the last half hour freaking out that my bank account only has around five hundred dollars in it, when I expected at least eight hundred dollars.
I got too excited about getting a new cell phone. Nothing wrong with new cell phones. Or being excited about them. But... I don't know... I feel materialistic. I feel dirty. I feel fake.
I feel like I should go somewhere. I don't know where. Just leave... and look for something somewhere else. I don't know what to look for. What could I find in Europe that's not at home?
But home is home. It's my bubble. It's my safe place where nothing too exciting happens, where life is predictable and I have to find things to worry and get excited about, like bank accounts and cell phones.
Europe is... well... not home. It's unpredictable and outside of myself. Dangerous, almost, because it's a mystery. I feel like I should go there, or somewhere like it, and come to grasp the dangerous and the foreign. I feel like that might make me more real somehow. But maybe that's a materialistic dream in and of itself. I guess I wouldn't be loving an actual material object, but I would be looking to the atmosphere and the surroundings to make me happy.
I want to come to a point in my life where I don't have to force happiness up out of myself. Because that's exactly what I do sometimes. I don't feel happy, so I buy something or I try to get people to pay attention to me so that I'll feel happy again. I consciously force happiness onto me, and maybe I feel happy for a while as a result, but in the end I'm never happy. I don't buy very many things, and I don't have very many friends, but a lot of times the things I do have and the attention that I get from friends are usually the result of my pursuit of happiness.
Perhaps happiness is only the byproduct of something greater. Maybe if I lift the focus from happiness and put the focus onto a certain object, say a person or God, and admire and love the object for what it is, perhaps happiness will come to me.
This concept is a crazy one which I can never express correctly. If you want a good expression of this concept, read Surprised by Joy.
Grandma and my mom are cutting out linen to make scrubbies.
Do you know what a scrubby is?
Friday, June 10
Too many options
I think I like college best when I'm on vacation. I can think all I want about being in college without actually doing anything about it.
So far I have taken thirty-four semester hours and am nowhere closer to finding out what exactly I want to do with a college career.
I want to do Philosophy. But if Philosophy, then also Religious Studies. But then I like Creative Writing. I'll have to decide between that and English Literature. Ooh and Film Studies. And a language sounds appropriate. Maybe Spanish. Or French. And if I'm doing a language, I might as well get my ESL. That makes sense.
This is where I'm at right now. I think it's a bit futile to know about something only halfway thoroughly. If I study something, I want to fully understand it, fully experience it. I don't think this is asking too much.
But then I've always had this flaw... It's never enough for me to be excellent at just one singular thing. I can never pay attention to anything that long to be that good at it. I'd rather sacrifice excellence in one area to be moderately acceptable in a lot of areas. This is my downfall, I think.
There is such a thing as a renaissance man. I guess my goal is to be just one step lower-- Well-rounded, but not quite so perfectly.
I guess I've gotten past the "Why should I go to college?" stage and am more at the "What do I want out of college?" phase.
Money's not an issue. A lilly of the field is what I am. I shall work as hard as I can, and trust the Maker to supply me if He sees fit to do so. If not, then I'll complain.
Maybe just fulfillment. I want to get a lot out of life. College is a place to do this, I think.
Not only do I want to get stuff out of life, but I want to give back to it.
University will arm me with certain abilities to give back to the world more effectively. At least that's what I've been told.
As an up and coming lyricist once put it (Me!), "Life is what you make of it, it's not what you can take from it."
I don't know how I'll go about this, but something will work out.
I'm rambling. I do this a lot.
I need guidance. I don't know what I should do.
So far I have taken thirty-four semester hours and am nowhere closer to finding out what exactly I want to do with a college career.
I want to do Philosophy. But if Philosophy, then also Religious Studies. But then I like Creative Writing. I'll have to decide between that and English Literature. Ooh and Film Studies. And a language sounds appropriate. Maybe Spanish. Or French. And if I'm doing a language, I might as well get my ESL. That makes sense.
This is where I'm at right now. I think it's a bit futile to know about something only halfway thoroughly. If I study something, I want to fully understand it, fully experience it. I don't think this is asking too much.
But then I've always had this flaw... It's never enough for me to be excellent at just one singular thing. I can never pay attention to anything that long to be that good at it. I'd rather sacrifice excellence in one area to be moderately acceptable in a lot of areas. This is my downfall, I think.
There is such a thing as a renaissance man. I guess my goal is to be just one step lower-- Well-rounded, but not quite so perfectly.
I guess I've gotten past the "Why should I go to college?" stage and am more at the "What do I want out of college?" phase.
Money's not an issue. A lilly of the field is what I am. I shall work as hard as I can, and trust the Maker to supply me if He sees fit to do so. If not, then I'll complain.
Maybe just fulfillment. I want to get a lot out of life. College is a place to do this, I think.
Not only do I want to get stuff out of life, but I want to give back to it.
University will arm me with certain abilities to give back to the world more effectively. At least that's what I've been told.
As an up and coming lyricist once put it (Me!), "Life is what you make of it, it's not what you can take from it."
I don't know how I'll go about this, but something will work out.
I'm rambling. I do this a lot.
I need guidance. I don't know what I should do.
Tuesday, June 7
A hole in the fence
I don't have anything religious to say. I guess I haven't for a long time. It's a topic that has been mulling over my head these past couple weeks, and I feel like I can't say anything, because that would put a conclusion to the matter, as if I've decided something about God. I've been doing a lot of exploring, though. Mostly through reading and conversation with close friends.
Okay, nevermind. I have something 'religious' to say.
It came to me in a quotation from Shane Claiborne's book Irresistible Revolution.
"Even if there were no heaven and there were no hell, would you still follow Jesus? Would you follow him for the life, joy, and fulfillment he gives you right now?"
A Jesus Christ whose cross had nothing to do with mending the gap between our contemporary ideas of Damnation and Salvation?
I say "our contemporary view" because for some reason I have a hunch that damnation isn't quite just fire and brimstone, and paradise isn't quite roads paved with gold and pearly gates (What's the big deal with golden roads anyway? I feel like that's a bit too gaudy... anyway....)
Maybe I'm interpreting the scriptures too freely, and maybe I'm not even reading them right now, so I'll be the first to say I'm not credible to make such claims. But what if Heaven and Hell started right now, in our mortal lives, in the very states that we're in as human beings?
I have no idea what sort of life and joy and fulfillment one would get out of following Christ. But I think that's because I've never actually tried to follow Christ. I've talked about following Christ. I've talked to other people and told them to "follow Christ," and I had no idea what I was talking about. I've written songs about following Christ.
But maybe that life and joy and fulfillment is, in fact, Heaven. Perhaps consolidation with the Spirit, the overarching Being that is God, might be Heaven.
I have no idea what might create that consolidation, but part of me is willing to go to any lengths. Part of me. The other part is shamelessly disinterested.
I haven't reached any conclusions. I want to. But the constant war of Doubt and Belief won't just die out. And I don't want to settle for anything less than being completely convinced that I am not wasting my life.
Anyway...
So that wasn't religious at all....
Okay, nevermind. I have something 'religious' to say.
It came to me in a quotation from Shane Claiborne's book Irresistible Revolution.
"Even if there were no heaven and there were no hell, would you still follow Jesus? Would you follow him for the life, joy, and fulfillment he gives you right now?"
A Jesus Christ whose cross had nothing to do with mending the gap between our contemporary ideas of Damnation and Salvation?
I say "our contemporary view" because for some reason I have a hunch that damnation isn't quite just fire and brimstone, and paradise isn't quite roads paved with gold and pearly gates (What's the big deal with golden roads anyway? I feel like that's a bit too gaudy... anyway....)
Maybe I'm interpreting the scriptures too freely, and maybe I'm not even reading them right now, so I'll be the first to say I'm not credible to make such claims. But what if Heaven and Hell started right now, in our mortal lives, in the very states that we're in as human beings?
I have no idea what sort of life and joy and fulfillment one would get out of following Christ. But I think that's because I've never actually tried to follow Christ. I've talked about following Christ. I've talked to other people and told them to "follow Christ," and I had no idea what I was talking about. I've written songs about following Christ.
But maybe that life and joy and fulfillment is, in fact, Heaven. Perhaps consolidation with the Spirit, the overarching Being that is God, might be Heaven.
I have no idea what might create that consolidation, but part of me is willing to go to any lengths. Part of me. The other part is shamelessly disinterested.
I haven't reached any conclusions. I want to. But the constant war of Doubt and Belief won't just die out. And I don't want to settle for anything less than being completely convinced that I am not wasting my life.
Anyway...
So that wasn't religious at all....
Saturday, June 4
Kelsey and David
Kelsey and David got married today.
She could never have found anybody so right for her. I'm terribly excited about their new lives together.
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