The Legoland Convention

A similarity between me and my dad...

Dad in the shower - "okay Fred, don't put your head at an angle, you'll get water in your ear"... Shit!

Me in the bath. "Okay me, don't put your ears under water, you'll get water in them"... Damn!

Me and dad's conversation later that day...

Dad - "So I got water in my ears again - Haven't been able to hear all day....Shit"

Me - "Huh? Say that louder, I got water in my ears"

this has been going on for years

Dan, I will smoke with you. But with pipes. Pipes are timeless.

Andrew, I read your blog (on your site). I must say 2 things:
1. I'm sorry we haven't talked much lately, I've been a(n) [insert expletive here] wreck.
2. I pretty much agree with you.
The trendiness gets to me. I don't know what to do about it. Except take up smoking. Maybe you would like to join me.

Slynn, you also made a really good point. That whole trying not to be things. Man, so good. I think we were separated at birth . . .

Here's what I've been thinking.
. . .
. . .
. . .

The other day I went for a walk. It was purely magical. I went down the old road (a.k.a. Lovers Lane, Muggers Lane or Ye Olde Road). It had been very cold, and rainy too. As a result all the trees were enveloped with ice. It was still fairly early in the morning and the sun was just coming up, shining through the rising mist. All of this was beautiful, but it was not this beauty that struck me. What struck me were the spider webs. Perfect spider webs shimmering in the morning dew everywhere I looked. Not just one or two of them either. I counted at least fourteen, and that was before I reached the first bend in the road. And not a spider in sight. (That is how it should always be). Anyways, I have no great insight to share because of my experience. It was just exquisite and I wish you all could have seen it.

I was thinking today. Imagine that. I’ve spent a majority of my time avoiding becoming those things that I didn’t want to become. Like how I didn’t want to be a Christian who went to Bible school. And then how I didn’t want to be a student who dated while at “bridal college.” And how I didn’t want to be a bible school girl who married a pastor (God forbid!). And how I didn’t want to be a classic Pentecostal who spoke in tongues all the time. And how I didn’t want to be a student who stayed up all night doing papers or studying for exams. And how I didn’t want to be a third or fourth year who couldn’t relate to freshmen. And how I didn’t want to be girly the way most girls are. And…and…and! Now, all of these things are not bad! In fact, many of them are me. But I just realized that I have spent so much time devoting myself to “not” being a certain way. I haven’t, however, put much time or effort into becoming what I want to be. I don’t even know who that is.
So that’s a little bit where I am at.

Apparently I laugh in my sleep sometimes. Moey mentioned this to me in the summer when we shared a room. I thought it must have just been a one-time occurrence because no one has ever told me that before. But my roommate tells me that the other night I laughed sporadically throughout the night – not just once but a couple of times. I find this quite amusing. Laughing in your sleep is way more entertaining that just talking. What was I laughing about? It must have been something pleasant.

And my eyes are green! For those of you who claim to believe otherwise, you are wrong. I have it from reliable sources that my eyes are in fact green…well, maybe greenish-blue and that’s why they sometimes seem blue. But they are more green than blue. Just to make sure you all know.

Tomorrow is Holly's birthday!

(I think I must just save up all my blogging and do it all at once. Well, I am tired and sick and am now going to bed. Goodnight.)

I'm glad Rob is here now. Good call on that one

In my new efforts to spite Dan Kang [I believe I must be developing an annoying sisterly desire here, but I'm amused and Dan is annoyed so its pretty damn funny to me]. I will from here on regard Rob Conci as Rob Gordon.

So I'm feeling kind of oversaturated with school lately. If I get one more memo in my box mentioning yet another thing I have purposely avoided doing or forgotten to do, I might snap. Also, sleeping on the guys couch has gone on far too long. Must use bed at appropriate times to avoid daily sleeping [3 naps is excessive]. Maybe I will go stay with Trish and Psegga this weekend. hmmm, being around only girls and in Vancouver to do homework might do me some good. That or I may resign myself to slothful residence of many couches and rotate between them all - with the exception of mine of course. Man I wish at least one of my couches weren't midget sized.

One of the great things about Trish is that she knew me before the Prince George year. She was the first to notice that I didn't sing or dance around anymore. That I was subdued and not nearly as outgoing. Yeah, I used to be really good socially. None of this awkward crap. Then I developed this bout of chronic honesty that didn't even allow me to pretend I felt comfortable. Jury's still out on whether this is good or bad. Also, she noticed when I stopped talking about my dreams. Things that you guys probl'y don't even know - Like my desire to teach World Governments about Jesus, maybe within the U.N or Red Cross. Impossible dreams that cannot on this earth ever happen without a miracle. My dream to show those in power what the love of Christ is like. Also, on a side note, to sing in a band with great folky music surrounded by creative people. I've got the last part down so far.
So yeah, maybe I'll go to Trisha's

there are so many things that I have to do today

I will probably end up ordering them from worst to greatest

and once again miss out on anything I love

note: I did allready watch that 24 I missed yesterday... so not all is lost

'elegy for didelphis virginiana'

oh possum, opossum
i wish that we’d been friends
for with your pink prehensile tail
you could have hung from my bunk rail
alas but that you climbed the trail
and stepped upon that road

oh possum, opossum
i wish i’d known before
you happily set out to go
across a road you did not know
on which a car that would not slow
decided your poor fate

oh possum, opossum
if only i had seen
that you would not be rescued right
before there came another light
and of you i’d not need to fright
of bending down to help

oh possum, opossum
if only i’d been bold
for while you suffered in the dark
i had the time to stop and park
to rescue you from death’s cold mark
and i just drove on by

My freind Rob flew into the room today with flare
He earnestly sought a gallant companion
for he had happened with chance apon an unlikely damsel
IT WAS AN opposum

so he wanted to save it

I love people like Rob

This is a blog devoted to . . . boxes.

Why do I like boxes?
They hold things
You can make forts with them
They fix computer screens (at least pizza boxes do)
They're friendly
They hold things.

Have a boxy day.

I wasn't talking about you Bryan
And...
WHAT IN THE WORLD IS MENGH???

umm...
It seems like blogging is getting more social

but that is for me...
maybe though you are talking about me on legoland...

mostly my posts are about how I don't want to talk
so I could understand how you would say that.

anyway
mengh
(proper spelling)

I read about happy people more sometimes.

I want to blog. But there is nothing on my mind right now.
I like life.
I am listening to Doves.
It is not because I am listening to Doves that I like life...though at the moment that works.
I prefer talking to blogging.
People don't like to talk so much anymore. Or at least that seems to be the trend starting. Maybe not.
I am a happy girl...la la la...

Hi
If you guys want to check out something pretty cool (at least in my opinion) check out the site www.yucv.com and read the article entitled "Fools Hope."
My little bro.
He's so rad! It makes me happy.

Pirates

you are a pirate Rob.

The Taxi theme song is sorting my life out. The moment it began playing I felt the world around me quickly shift into focus. Such an amazing piece of music. It seems to put me in total contrast to the rest of life much like the song seems to be in contrast to what a sit-com theme song should be.

Okay so you know Taxi is coming up and you're excited to see the raw, germinating talents of such greats as Danny Devito, Christopher Lloyd, and Andy Kaufman. This expectation takes the form of excitement, you're looking forward to a half-hour of hilarious comedy, an uproarious celebration of entertainment. Then the music starts.

And while those expectations linger, they are sublimated beneath a wave of serenity. Sometimes we can't tell the similar strains of our life apart until they're played to a new background. The chords have changed, the harmony is different, the mood is new...it's all a study in contrasts. The melody remains the same but the perspective is different.

So has this led me to a new understanding of life, of my part in the universe? Maybe it's enough to see the wonders around me in a new way for a little while. To feel differently for just one second about everything I've taken for granted since birth. A glimpse outside my own mind.

This is the power of music to me: a glimpse past my limitations, a chance to grow up and see everything again for the first time, the opportunity to re-live those few precious moments in my life that I never want to forget.

Someone once said that it's the little things in life that make it worth living. I agree. Life can be hard, cold and unforgiving, yes. But I survive from day to day on the little glimpses of heaven I get as I peer through the clouds: the setting sun over the north bay; a crisp, foggy night along a walk of moonlights; the sweet surmounting fury of Rachmaninoff's third piano concerto; a laugh with my friends; a glance at the deep night sky.

Taxi's contrary theme catches my expectations so by surprise every time I hear it that I can't help but regard it as one of the sweetest moments of blessing from God. A glimpse into heaven. I hint of what is to come. And this seems to put my priorities in order without any effort on my part; it sorts my life out.

So I survive from day to day on this hope. The hope of a heaven on earth that I will see and breathe and relish in some day. The hope that I catch glimpses of from day to day.

The hope I feel when Taxi comes on.




posted by rob conci

You guys are beautiful. Do guys like to hear that? i don't know maybe its a girly thing to you. But sometimes when I read the things you write I'm amazed that in your feelings of weakness you seem so much stronger to me. I don't think i'm alone in thinking this.

I think about being a mom alot. My mom was amazing. Its kind of intimidating to think about sometimes. She stayed at home with me until I was sixteen and then she got a job only because she needed to. But I want more than a family. Don't get me wrong- I want to be there for my kids when they're young, I think thats important. But I want to do so much. Its intimidating being a girl. Especially when I grew up seeing that even though my dad had big dreams for me, my mom was expected to stay home. Its not that she had any problem with it, and my dad probably saw it as him giving her the luxury of being home with me- they really liked me. I have dreams that I will be a patient mom who doesn't yell at her kids in the grocery store or treat them like they're stupid because they actually act their age. I want the kind of family that shows that they love each other. I have every intention of marrying a sentimental man who's affectionate and that when we're in public that people think "wow, they all really love each other". That is my biggest dream. If I had that I would be satisfied even if I didn't have the greatest job in the world. But I think I will have a great job. God's got a lot of work to do to get stuff together for me i think.

I am not sure what the solutions are right now. Though I speak about them, even name them and address them and suggest them.

I know I am very vague with myself. That is how it has to be.

I don't really expect to be helped anyway... as it were.

The purpose of me writing is some thing inside me desiring to have people in the loop of my thoughts, and part of it is that by writing here I feel like I may have allittle bit of support.

anyway...

I did ask for this.
This is my fault.
Alot of this is what I wanted.

Ah, to be but a simple soldier, a grunt who knows nothing but his orders. But, alas, 'twas not to be. The Christian soldier is anything but simple; he is a knight of the Most Holy God. Instead, however, I'm a kid in a man's suit of armour. Nevertheless, the bearing of such arms is not so weighty as the responsibility that comes with them. Can a boy like me be the brave knight I need to be? Doesn't one have to be a man to be a knight? How does a boy become a man? But if a knight I am, then I am but a rogue, a vagabond, with no standard to ride under or fight for.

I also think of becoming a father. Or a husband. I was fifteen when I decided I wanted to be married and have two little girls with curly blonde hair. But with great expectation comes fear and doubt. We all believe lies. Back in the day, I caught my girlfriend cheating on me, I caught her in the lie. I didn't just find out about it afterwards, but I actually caught her in her own lie. But I idolized her. When I was with her, I was a man, a warrior. I fought and died for her everyday in my own soul, just like a knight should for his lady. But when my honour was stained, I called her on it, and in reply, she not only lied to me, but at me. She attacked me with a lie that has stuck like a Morgul wound to the heart.

When I caught her, she said (and I believed it, and still do somehow), "I knew this would happen, you being a new Christian and all." She pinned my devastated soul on my new faith, and somehow her actions and attitudes were justified in this. Somehow, by her arbitrary decision alone, I was not worthy of being a man, a soldier, a knight. I wasn't worthy of the wounds and torments I had already suffered for her, in her place. And so I medicated myself with 4 years of Bible College, in hopes of solving this 'new faith' problem, and I hate how I have de-evolved from that state. I hate it. And so I drag myself away from battle, again. Armour dented, shield cleaved in two, but sword untainted with victory. There are no enemies left to fight, they've all left me for dead. I never asked for any of this.


"Check it out
What are you saying
What are you playing
Who are you obeying
day out day in?
Baby baby baby
That stuff is driving me crazy
DJs communicate to the masses
Sex and violent classes
Now our children grow up prisoners
All their lives radio listeners"

"I tried to sing along
But damn that radio song
Hey hey hey"

This is a day for wasting time.
Sitting on the couch,
curled up in a ball;
it's a day for wasting time.

Some days drift by
like snow outside your window.
They melt into memory
before they hit the ground.
Those are days for wasting time.

Here's a great quote from my (actually Monte's) history of Christianity book. It's explaining some of Luther's beliefs about the church and community:

"To be priests [ie. the priesthood of all believers] does not mean primarily that we are our own individual priests, but rather that we are priests for the entire community of belief, and that they are priests for us. Rather than setting aside the need for the community of the church, the doctrine of the universal priesthood of believers strengthens it. It is true that access to God is no longer controlled by a hierarchical priesthood. But we still stand in need of the community of believers, the body of Christ, in which each member is a priest for the rest, and feeds the rest. Without such nourishment, an isolated member cannot live."

I don't think I could say it any better. Way to go Justo L. Gonzalez.

I am indeed wanting to be a Father... almost more than I want to be in love...
These are my fantasies constantly in the distance of what is my life... Destined to be on the immidiate horizon, and yet

I am wondering if it has allready came and went

That is why Fatherhood seems so appealing... I have never had that...
I am looking forward to it so much

There is a couple that comes into my store somtimes. They're old and she's physically handicapped- likely from a stroke or something of the like. She's slow and seemingly walks with much difficulty. He has to be her cane. He sits her down on a comfy chair then goes and orders for them. The striking thing about this couple is his complete look of love and happiness just to be in her company. There is a constant light of pleasure with these two. Its as though there is nothing he would rather do than be her cane and take care of her. Like its a personal hobby.
After pondering this I came to a realization. I can relate to this man somewhat. I like loving and taking care of others. I would like to think that if I were in his situation I would be the same way. However, I cannot relate to her. She has a man who loves her and takes care of her, but she does not have the ability to love him back in the same way. Even in her state of handicaps she is loved unconditionally. This I cannot relate to. Don't expect the typical God type phrases. I'm aware of the parallel and actually feel unconditionally loved by God. This isn't about Him, but about men. I've come to realize that deep down I feel as though I will not be loved without having something useful to contribute. But if this "love" I receive is conditional, then it isn't really love is it? So I guess in essence, I do not believe I will be loved. Yikes. That is not a pretty conclusion to come to. How do I work on that sort of thing? My mind and heart can't seem to come to an agreement. I know prayer is useful [it always is], but is there something practical i can do? I'm surrounded by great guys that i think highly of. But its like love is for other girls, not me. That is so depressing to admit. Can someone as smart as me actually believe this? I hope not really. Maybe its just a stage. Is this blog too personal to even share? ummm, I'm gonna publish it right away in case i change my mind. Cause I'm really working on this honesty thing. Honesty brings change i think. here goes...

I hate those days when you just know it's going to be a boring day. I suppose I could have found something exciting, but I decided on boredom.

Why do I do that?

It's not like I'm going to do homework. Although I should.

Papers are hard to finish. So much drudgery . . . So much.
I must go and eat honey roasted peanuts and work on my paper.
You guys are cool.
Anyone who reads this is cool.
Just thought you'd all like to know that.

Well, it was hard-fought, and though we didn't quite come out on top, we scored several major moral victories. Long live the Western Millionnaires!!!

Currently, my room smells like popcorn. I don't really like popcorn. That's all I have to say about that.

Zenon is presently convinced that Sofia Coppola may or may not be my girlfriend.

Ho hum.

Here's a doozie for ya: why is it that when the mind is at its slowest, it feels the most need for output? For example, I am absolutely and inequivocally exhausted, yet I somehow feel the need to write about popcorn and Sofia Coppola.

Ho hum.


"When I was just a little girl,
I asked my mother, What will I be?
Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me"

"Que Sera Sera"

My survey result was the same as Holly's.
Rage Against the Machine is my life.
And Dead Prez rock.
If I was a frog, I think I'd be a tree frog.
Then I could climb trees.

I think it's funny when cute girls do characteristically cute things.
It's cute.

so I have a story for you all

the one about how Dan Donkers sleeps all the time, and Mark Hawkes calls to wake him up...
not a whole lot of filler, but you get the gist.
Maybe the moral is hidden under the blanket that Dan is using right now, so I will just tell you:

Moral: Cats should never be given Milk (or sherbert) before bed, its just a bad idea.

So I did that survey, and the results were as follows: I like Sara Maclachlan(definitely), Rage Against the Machine(also true), author Naomi Klein (who? - maybe i should read some of her stuff), Rappers "dead prez" - no idea. I would never have a career in something i didn't believe in (totally true), in fact i'm post-materialistic something-or-other, though i'm not making money right now, when i do i'll be good with it and I'm concerned for the welfare of those around me, especially the underprivelleged. It was actually frighteningly accurate.
Slynn, maybe did you lie on yours? - by the way, your stories have cracked me up lately.

ps. according to the survey, i am an aimless dependent.
my icons are "the rock", eminem, and slipknot.
i will most likely become a blue-collared worker or unemployed.
my motivations are financial independence, security and stability.
my key values are ostentatious consumption, fatalism and nihilism.
the words i live by: "get out of my face!"
now, if that isn't an accurate description of sara-lynn...i don't know what it
(who let these people put out a survey anyways???)

Is it wrong to defend your friends?
I mean, as a counsellor-type person, a lot of people come to me to complain or vent about certain things. And most of the time I just listen. That's mostly what is needed. But when they are badmouthing one of my friends, I have this urge inside of me to make them see the other side a little bit. Yes. It comes from a bias. But what then is friendship for? I will not sit by and betray my friends by not speaking up a little. That is nearly impossible for me. So, in answering my own question, I do not think I am in the wrong to defend my friends.

I have an announcement to make. After much experience in training coffee shop workers (6 so far), I'm happy to announce that by far the quickest learner is none other than our own Bryan Dubien. Yay for quick learning and problem solving skills!

Also, some more northern facts - We leave our cars on when we go in to the stores. Sometimes, we go outside and start our cars even if we aren't going anywhere. It is common to see not one, but two snowmobiles on the back of any given truck.

http://3sc.environics.net/surveys/3sc/compare.asp?sid=3&tribeID=10&x=-0.62&y=-0.45&dat=53503&sidImage=true

this was my quiz result
what does this mean

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Today is international seafood appreciation day.
Let's hear it for clams,
and prawns,
and tiger prawns,
and angry fish,
and dead fish,
and alive fish,
and lobsters - red ones,
and all of the other wonderful creatures of the sea.
I hope I'm not being shellfish in taking up all this room to talk about seafood.
SHELLFISH!!! BWEEEHEEHEEHAHAHHAHAAAHA.
Whoa,
Brilliant.

My horse-people experience:
So I get to the house and have to buzz at the metal gate to be let into the driveway. The driveway is long and windy and still covered in snow. I arrive and am greeted by a large white dog. The dog was a little cute, but still would have been scary if I had met it at night all alone. So I go to the huge front doors and knock. I see the lady peer out the window and then come to let me in. She was tall. And very proper, good posture and she spoke very curtly. But all of this was diminished by the fact that her entire head was covered in hot rollers. She must have had quite long hair too. But it was all rolled up in these curlers. So the next 20 minutes consisted of her talking, and talking, and talking...and leading me around this gigantic house. The house was fully furnished - expensively at that. And full of all sorts of weird and quirky things. Like a large wooden fork and knife hanging on the living room wall (probably have the size of me). And statues of two cats and a frog...fishing. She showed me everything - a lot of which was of no importance to me at all. Her five television sets, complete with two satellite systems. The five refridgerators and two deep freezes (one for meat, and the other for everything else). Her answering machine...and every phone in the house. The kitty-litter room. The storage room with walls lined with food. Seriously...lined! Like, there were 6 bottles of mustard for the two people living in the house. Who goes through 6 bottles of mustard! And then...
Then I was shown the north-wing. No kidding, the north wing. That is where I'd be staying. Complete with my own huge room with a queen size bed, a living room with a wall-sized television, a dining room area with a full table, an a fully-loaded kitchen with fridge (full of food), stove, dishwasher...you name it. And here's the thing. Besides being paid for house-sitting, they offered me free room and board for the summer in the north-wing.
But, alas, I do not think I will accept. I know, I know, you may think I am crazy. However not only does house-sitting involve taking care of the cats (which I hate!). There are three dogs. They are friendly...but can be viscious. They have special zapping collars because if they're outside together they try to run away so that they can go and kill coyotes. And they have to be let out first thing in the morning and again at night (besides being walked). But they refuse to do their business on their property. So you have to take them down the long driveway, across the street to do their stuff. And on top of all this...are the horse-duties, which she did not even show me. I have never worked with horses before! What am I thinking? And all of this would need to be done before I leave for the twenty minute drive to get myself to my 8:00 classes during the week. Whew! Oh yeah, and in the summer, it would include extra chores (like weeding, mowing the lawn, weed-eating, etc. in order to help with my room and board). Not that that is bad, but if I'm working full-time too...and possibly interning...yeah, you get the picture. Needless to say, it was quite an overwhelming half-hour visit. And the idea of house-sitting for rich people does not seem quite as grandoise as I had imagined. It seems like a lot of extra stress. And it's right during mid-terms. And I couldn't go away for reading week. And, and, and...
I just don't want to do it.

Well, nothing to see here. In fact, there would have been, but I couldn't remember what it was when I got here. So, I'll leave you with this:

Have you ever walked into a room, and then promptly forgot why you went in there?
I think that's how dogs live their lives.


"No new years's day to celebrate
no chocolate covered candy hearts to give away
no first of spring, no song to sing
in fact here's just another ordinary day
No April rain, no flowers bloom
no wedding saturday within the month of June
But what it is, is something true
Made up of these three words that I must say to you"

"I just called to say I love you, I just called to say how much I care"

It is right to give to the first need. Nomatter what. Other needs can be met later I think.

I am an interbet genius. For that I am thankful. Chad Kroger. I'm listening to a pirated tape of the wonderful Welsh band Catatonia that i've been searching for. Finally it surfaced packed at my dad's. Yay, ah the memories. You guys would love this. mmmm, catatonia.

Okay, so that was possibly one of the cutest blogs I've ever read.
Props to Slynn on that one.
Edwin vs. Chad Kroeger?

So I was thinking today that I am not a very good story-teller. (And, no, this did not come just from the movie that we watched the other night - though I know most of you won't believe me so laugh all you want). But seriously...I was thinking about the time I got a friend's car stuck in the snow and how great of a story it is. Yet any time I tell it, it doesn't quite get the response I'm looking for. I'm usually the quiet one who doesn't speak up so much, but when I do everyone listens because they think I must have something great to say. It just seems that I don't actually meet people's expectations. Why is that? I mean, I think that I'm a pretty good writer and have a good grasp on my vocabulary (perhaps not always when blogging, but read any of my papers for Roger Stronstad and you'll see). And I've always liked drama and think that I have the capability to speak quite expressively.
So why can't I tell good stories?

Speaking of stalkers, there's this random blog that I found and I really love it. It's cool.
On Saturday I found myself driving home from Abbotsford, where I had visited Moey, singing really loudly along with my Dave Matthews cd. I'm not a soloist. I might have a choir voice, but I don't trust it. Anyways, it was a blast. I was singing "Satellite" really loudly and in a high and almost girly voice. I don't really know why. It was fun. So I decided maybe if I was in a singing mood I should put in my favourite worship cd. But I got distracted by the radio, because they were playing some old soft favourite I liked.
You ever have one of those times where you're driving a really nice car and it's nighttime and cold outside, and somehow, you feel like you could drive forever? I love that feeling. I just want to drive under the stars and listen to music. It doesn't really matter where I'm going. I could drive to the moon, if that moment would only last. Those are the times to treasure. Just thought I'd share that.

Would somebody be a stalker is they happened to know, say, Sofia Coppola's home address because they looked it up on the internet? Just wondering.



"If I had a tale that I could tell you
I’d tell a tale sure to make you smile
If I had a wish that I could wish for you
I’d make a wish for sunshine all the while"

"Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy"

heres a good quote

the real important ones

its as though they know, that when they say something they cant take it back

A Douglas! A Douglas! Jamais Arriere!
Yay for Scotland! I think the Scottish should rule the world. Wouldn't that be great?


"All my memories gather round her
Miner's lady stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine teardrops in my eyes"

"I hear a voice in the morning how she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
Drivin' down the road I get the feelin'
That I should been home yesterday yesterday"

"Country roads take me home, to the place I belong
West Virginia mountain momma, take me home country roads"

hey, was anyone aware that beta band is scottish! Yes!!!Chalk up another great band to the great country!

I feel doomed

my dreams point it out

and I cant win the arguement

NT Theology - the tale of an all-nighter

The clock of doom struck ticked closer and closer to midnight, the sound of which resounded in my mind with the thundering drum of a tribal dance of war. Boom! Doom! The noise continued to shake my concentration as I approached the threshold of human consciousness. Doom! Boom! The clickety-clack of keyboard sounds flitter through my soul, the means of my salvation. Faster and faster, they must go faster! First one, then another, then a third is strung together, forming what looks almost like a word, only to be disrupted by Doom! Boom! Doom! They shake the innermost part of my being, causing my hands and arms to physically tremble, shattering any coherence on the page. The misshapen lyrics form a jumble of sentences, phrases really, which express only the merest resemblance of my intentions. The sweat of my palms, thus far used to lubricate and facilitate the manufacturing of typos, gather in the cracks between the keys, causing a river of salt to flow out the bottom of the keyboard, soaking notes already pocked with great drops of liquid stress from my glistening forehead. Doom! Doom! At last, a single glorious paragraph lays exposed and prone on the page, awaiting scrutiny from a critical eye. Is it good enough? With it suffice? Boom! It doesn't matter now, it is too late. We must move on! The race must be won! Can it - Doom! - be done? With a last, heroic effort, I assemble the residue of remaining ingredients of my will: a litre of stress, 2 cups of despair, 3 tablespoons of cohesive thoughts, seasoned with a dash of confusion, and the crowning element, a healthy dose of DOOM! Mixing all together for a last melee, I attempt to swallow the miserable concoction I have assembled. "I have only myself to blame now," I say to myself before drowning myself in my own doom. And then I collapse, shaking, sweating, dying, seeing nothing but scattegories and yellow screens. DOOM! Doom! doom....


"Now you've got some diamonds,
And you will have some others
But you'd better watch your step, girl
Or start living with your mother"

"So don't play with me, 'cause you're playing with fire"

maybe their choice in women is their major choice
that mattered

Kurt Cobain vs. Gavin Rosedale

My number one most memorable new years experience

1994 - Andrew Mulroy, the 6'5 godlike creature spent most of the evening staring at me while our parents played Taboo. Then he mentioned that he liked the beatles. He was beautiful

2004 - weird
So a bunch of people came over last night, all of whom attend my church here. The new pastors were here as well. I heard them talk about the young adults and different funny stories that happen with them. The thing is, i wasn't involved in the conversation. I was on the outside. AND THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT MY YOUTH GROUP. The short ones who were in and out of my office on an irritatingly daily basis. The kids who called in the middle of the night. The kids who cried on my shoulder and i felt their tears run down my own cheek. And now they aren't so much kids anymore. In fact, they are so much leaders in the youth group because they aren't even in the youth group anymore. And it was like i never happened. But I DID! I put my heart and soul into them. I loved them with every little bit of me. They remember of course. The stories are still there and those I never even knew know of me. But it hurt. alot. Not because anyone did anything wrong, but because it's like my time is forgotten by the adults who love them now. I'm thankful that these now young adults (still so weird cause i'm still so young - i was only a kid myself, 20 in fact) are so loved and taken care of. In fact its an answer to prayer, one that i would have loved to see more of while i was here.

Its sad to me that times in our lives that impact us greatly can be made smaller by people who weren't there. The thing is that i want to be part of everything again. I miss these people, knowing them, loving them, having them know me. Life is so different here. Anything can happen. The extraordinary happens on a daily basis, even in the smallest sense.

And why is it that I haven't desired the extraordinary in the longest time, when I used to live in it every day?

Happy New Year everybody!!!!!

So there I was with all my drunk friends, drinking my own um-and-Coke (yes I said um, it's the virgin variety), mastering the technique of the sacred game of..........

Dog-opoly! (I rock at this game)


"A knight of the Table Round should be invincible,
Suceed where a less fantastic man would fail.
Climb a wall no one else can climb,
Cleave a dragon in record time,
Swim a moat in a coat of heavy iron mail.
No matter the pain, he ought to be unwinceable,
Impossible deeds should be his daily fare.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A man so *extraordinaire*?"

"C'est moi! C'est moi, I'm forced to admit.
'Tis I, I humbly reply.
That mortal who these marvels can do,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I."