This blog is not updated often enough. This blog often has typos in it because I post too quickly. If you follow it, you won't be bothered too often.
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the truth is.

I am a poet who has forgotten how to write poetry.

The truth is I never knew how.

The truth is poetry is eloquent.

The truth is all I ever thought I wanted was eloquence.

The truth is I’m too afraid of melodrama to write poetry that’s any good.

The truth is all I ever could produce was honesty.

The truth is all I wanted was to write truth.

The truth is, truth alone makes poor poetry.

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The Three Day Novel

Day One
The morning was good. Then I got up. I slept till nine. I set an alarm, but didn't wake up to it. That day was a whirlwind of characters, ideas, and no plot. It was pretty amazing. The only day that could really be called fun. Hence the smile.

Day Two
This day was horrible. I mean. . .horrible. I said to myself (and other people) "I want to give up" a million times. Around six in the afternoon that day, the moment that a movie critic might call the "seizing of the sword" took place. Unfortunately after seizing the sword I held it in my hand for the remaining hours of wakefulness and did almost nothing with it. 
Day Three
The Third day I was a wreck. I had ten thousand or so words to go at the beginning of it. As I had realized the previous day, I had no plot. That morning, I still had no plot. That day I accidentally slipped into third person narration for a few paragraphs before expertly saving it without having to rewrite those three hundred words.

I also killed someone. And put on the rally jacket (pictured here, the jacket, not the killing.)

And eventually sat triumphant over the three day novel (with daylight still showing it's last rays). Life is good. I think I just finished working my sleep debt off last night.

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I'm not sleeping

Today I laid in bed for fifteen minutes after waking up. I'm convinced that is what has made it such an awesome day so far. I'm not really sure where this post is going to go, just. . .it's going there.


I love organization. I feel so much more purposeful with my new axiomatic approach to my school work (don't even ask). I have a little mini flow pad that I write endless lists on. I have three animal figurines that don't belong to me, but I found them in my laundry basket, so they're staying on my desk. 

I did Starting Points, read a chapter of Blue Like Jazz, finished a chapter of Godel, Escher, Bach (I always feel better about a book with a bookmark in it if I'm at a new chapter), and listened to some "house of heroes" while catching up blogs (reading a great one by Mary Kate, which all of you should go read here) It is a testament to how clear cut today is feeling that I made use of the link feature. Even the music I'm listening to seems "crisp". And considering the quality of most of my itunes library is surprising. (Hayley, you know what I'm talking about)

It's the weather. It has to be. It's cold, it's cloudy, it's probably going to rain. Or perhaps the weather is just another thing aligning itself in today's awesomeness. Today it is easy to say "This is the day that the LORD as made, we will rejoice and be glad in it." 

I just realized today that I never finished Sophie's World. Welcome latecomer to Michael's book club. He'll get to you eventually, he promises. Actually, I'm almost done with that one, so I should finish it up soon.

Today I feel wide awake.

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I need a title.

I feel alone. As if an inner circle of my friends has begun to move away from me, and left me behind. I don't think that's right. I don't think that's true. But some of me does. I feel empty. I don't know who I am, but I feel like this isn't it. Who I am changes from day to day, depending on how close I am to who I am supposed to be. I'm afraid that I am beginning to change, and that my friends (you people) will stick together and I will slip away. I am afraid of becoming less interesting.
I tell myself that I should read more, or think more. That I haven't been thinking and that people won't like that. That I ought to post meaningful blog posts because then people won't forget about me. People I haven't seen in months. I would like to believe that the reason I feel so alone and empty like this is because I have invested in you people, that you all hold a part of me that I cannot "call into action" on my own. But that is not it. ("That is not what I meant at all") The truth is that I see Orual growing inside me. I see a love-hungry monster angry that the people he claims he loves are so connected to one another outside of him. I need God. What I need right now is to need to need God. And I do.
I identify with all I've read recently on Micah's blog, and Hayleys blog, and Rebecca's poem. But I don't post on any of them. Because writing on Micah's "a Confession" post that I feel exactly the same way seems too repetitive. Micah, you always seem to write (more eloquently) the things that run through, or consume my head. I need to get down to business with my ReCAP homework though, like the three day novel at its outset, it feels an impossible and far off achievement. I need to get rid of facebook. It's impossible to say how much it makes sense, Hayley, living at the library.
I understand Rebecca's often fear of being "left out" of things, I feel it now. I wonder, why am I writing this post? I know that I mean all of it entirely. But is it like a theorem in Number Theory that it can have two meanings, or purposes. Is my other purpose directly conflicting with the first one? Am I writing this to be noticed? To remind people not to forget about me? To feed this monster?
Once again in writing a blog post I have so confused myself in my motives that I am unsure about any motive at all. Now I want to post it to post it. Because former me had a good reason. Probably. A question for those with bad memories: how much should I trust me former self? (I saw Momento, after all!)
I would like to end this post in a way that makes sense. And perhaps other people don't really write their posts like this. Do you guys have a better method? I don't want to ask that question because it may be all someone talks about if they post a comment. Do you ever think like that? I suppose normal people think about their posts while they're writing them, instead of typing what they think about their post.
My mind is as clouded as its ever been. I went to bed last night with some many selfish thoughts running through my head it felt like I was standing (or lying) in a crowd. God, I need you to make me desire you above all.

I whine too much.

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Googlism.


I was going to write a post about Truth, language, asking if questions were worth asking. And eventually I still will, but for now here's one long quote from Googlism.


"
the truth is what you believe
the truth is out there
the truth is right here
the truth is up there
the truth is here?
the truth is in the details
the truth is here
the truth is our aim
the truth is that nothing on the internet is original
the truth is within our reach
the truth is out
the truth is all out there
the truth is still out there
the truth is what you make it
the truth is by hwl poonja
the truth is here forward
the truth is double edged
the truth is really out there
the truth is that israel is making huge
the truth is in here
the truth is out there pictures and posters
the truth is inside us
the truth is michael john
the truth is not out there
the truth is on two
the truth is oz there
the truth is "hate speech" only to those who have something to hide
the truth is out there?
the truth is up there; harry knowles endorses "don't it suck";
the truth is that there is absolutely no rule of law
the truth is in here miles midsommer
the truth is
the truth is out when tom sharp received a bunch of humorous round
the truth is everything
the truth is *not* out there
the truth is still out there by william f
the truth is out there'
the truth is found in the bible
"

I think that at least TWO of these statements are true. *Glances at internet reference*

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