The Legoland Convention

Hey, I spelt kalidoescope right on the first try..... Damnit!

Anyways, Tuesday, I also went to the dentist, and had an interesting experience. Not quite so funny however, but interesting nonetheless. I can't open my eyes. Even with my eyes closed, I tear up because the lights burn me. The dentist always thinks he's hurting me or something, but it's just that big-ass light he shines right down your throat is always in my eyes.

Once, he let me wear sunglasses on the chair, but I always forget to bring a pair. But now he's got this new light. I guess it shines just fine down my muzzle, but it doesn't hurt my eyes. Now, out of habit, I close my eyes during all intimate, mouth-related encounters, but this time, I opened them for a brief instant; what I saw has changed my life.

Well, that's a load of bull, but what I did see were beautiful green eyes. The dental hygienist(?) girl had really pretty eyes, or maybe they were just really close. I haven't seen eyes like that (really close, I mean) for many a moon. Eyes are cool. They let you see things, and I don't just mean for the owner.

I am looking back on this blog's archives from last December. Bryan, I now know how big 150 points is. When I meet you in the finals, I intend on 150-pointing you into the grave! I was sick, I remember, in more ways than one. Dan and I both lost family, and Dan had gone to Ontario. Holly kept us entertained with her updates on Northern life, and Slynn tried to work a million jobs (or did a million jobs try to work her?). These were some of the events which shaped our lives, or at least our year, or maybe just our break.

Now, looking back, I am thankful for every one of you (not just those I mentioned). I am also very sorry. I am sorry for the numerous times I have failed each one of you, failed to be the brother I should have been. Your grace is much appreciated. My lack of courage to do the right thing has oft been a stumbling point for me, and my inability to do the right thing when courage does happen across my path has frightened me. I find it difficult to forgive myself of these shortcomings, but your continued friendship has been forgiveness enough. Thank you.

I seek your pity, usually, but not today. I do not ask for encouraging remarks. I don't claim for them to be hollow; in fact, this year, I seek to trust completely. I simply ask that grace continue to abound. As I look back, I see old struggles, and am reminded that their contemporary brethren are both equally difficult and challenging, but they also remind me that, with new struggles come new battlefields. A new battlefield means I've moved off the old one, or, more importantly, it means I've moved. Moved somewhere, anywhere, but I've moved.

In many ways, I have accomplished so little this year, it makes me sick. Flunking school at the last minute; shying away from ministry before I've even seriously begun; setting unrealistic standards; scaring away those I care about, and not caring for those I care about. For those who remain, I am more than overjoyed at your faithfulness. Again, thank you. For those who now are far from me, I wish I could make it up to you whatever it is I've done, but I know that I probably cannot. I am deeply and truly sorry.

I don't even know why I'm writing this. I just wanted to tell you about going to the dentist (cue laughter).


"You know with love
Comes strange currencies
And here is my appeal:
I need a chance, a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance,
A word, a signal, a nod, a little breath
Just to fool myself, to catch myself, to make it real"

"These words: You will be mine."