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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Over explained, over dramatized, and under analyzed. (And self deprecating, to boot)

"I remember when rock was young, me and Suzie had so much fun!" Elton John blasts over the speakers as I sit with the store invoice in one hand, and a pen in the other. Haleigh smiles broadly (a rare sight) and says "I love this song." She lip synchs as I continue to read her the prices of various items and she continues to monotonously price them. From time to time we hear Billy's screeching voice singing "Na! na na na na na!"

I'm walking down the street, my shoulders tense, held up nearly to my ears. It's freezing. No, colder than freezing. The wind is nearly pushing me over. A car is parked next to me at a gas station. There's a little girl in the backseat. She smiles at me, and I smile back. A moment later I tell myself I smiled first. It always works that way, I make eye contact with a little kid somewhere and smile, then they either smile back or look nervously at their mother. But no, she definitely smiled first.

We pull up to the Starbucks at perhaps seven thirty. Through the window I can see a couple. This is clearly their first date. They are uncomfortable. They sit a comfortable distance away from one another. The woman has a large purse. She's a very practical girl. The man needs a shave, but certainly has just shaved.
The girl is nice to look at. Her nose is stubby and her head is cocked slightly to one side (deftly killing two birds with one stone by both looking flirtatious and keeping her hair out of her eyes). She does not smile often, at least not with her mouth, and she nods at whatever he says. She talks with her hands, letting her tea sit forlornly forgotten on the table. The girl is nice to look at.
The man has finished his coffee, which he obviously took black, and has taken to fiddling with the cup while the girl who's face is nice to look at talks. It's warm in the shop, but the wind is whipping outside. He's still wearing his blue gloves with the practical grip. That was a mistake.
They are infinitely interested in what the other is saying, or perhaps just in the others eyes, or neither. What are they saying? The boy says something and the girl laughs. It is a laugh that was expected, and he accepts it with an appreciative smile. The laugh came as if it had been waiting to be released, unnatural, and yet not contrived. It blurted itself out, jumping the gun. It had taken its place just before its cue, but the other players are grateful for its relieving presence. It means that they are both doing well.

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Today

Today . . . I remembered that yesterday I wrote a journal entry. Go me. First time since . . . October or so. I feel like a blog post should go along with it. But I never feel like blogging about the things that I like to think about, at least most of the time. Oh! I found this poem I wrote a long time ago? Want to hear it? okay. Whoever can tell me what this is actually about gets a prize (an actual, literal prize, I'm working on it.)


I see the cage
and glimpse the man inside
I see the war rage
and I must leave now, besides

I go inside my own cage,
one of pen and page
to learn of the freedom
I hear the man!
he wakes!

the gate is broken,
the man is woken,
the liberty spoken,
I hear it from my window

the door stands open,
his liberty has awoken
me, I can be free
but . . . 'not for me.'

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Humankind cannot bear very much reality.

I do not understand myself, nor do I see fully who I am (inside or out). You do not fully understand yourself, or know who you are. I know you don't because the human race categorically does not understand itself. It might feel like not being able to see who we really are is an obsticale or a burden, or at least it feels (or felt) this way to me, but in reality I think it is a blessing.

We are broken, wretched, evil people. Perhaps if we saw how evil and wretched we really were, we could not help but love God and do good, or at least realize that we ought to. Yes, I think that if we really saw how horrible we were, we would repent and love God and man. So why doesn't God show us? Why doesn't he let us see ourselves for who we are, and who we might be? Because it would be too painful. I think that God doesn't show us fully who we are, because we would be so disgusted by it, and so hateful towards it that we may not be able to bear it. God has had mercy on us by blinding us to ourselves, he's covered our eyes so we can only partly see ourselves for what we are. He's protected us from a truth we cannot yet bear.

I do not understand God's glory, and I do not fully know who God is. You don't fully understand his glory or see who He is either. You can't. God hasn't show us all of Himself, but parts of Himself. I think for the same reason He hasn't shown us ourselves, because we couldn't bear it.

Instead of showing us to us, He's taken a different road in helping us to love Him, and repent. He shows us a little of our own sin, and a little of his beauty and glory, enough for us to feel the pain of our brokenness, and to see the fulfillment of His wholeness. By not allowing us to see who we are fully, he's shown us another mercy. He does not simply say "The hard truth is better for you in the end." He says "The hard truth is better for you in the end, but I will show it to you slowly, so that you might be able to bear it, so that the pain of glowing will be less." He loves us, and because he loves us, he shows the truth in love to us.

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