It could be worse.

I keep reminding myself, it could be worse.  I feel so alone, isolated, far from my loved ones, and like an utter failure.  Then, I think, why should I focus on how much worse it could be?  It doesn't make me feel better, or any happier.  I actually feel worse.  Because as bad as I feel, there are people who feel more desolate and lost than I do.  If that's possible, and I'm sure it is, then I'm just now starting to understand the depravity of this world.  It truly is a dark and lonely place.  Instead, I try to focus on my Savior.  It is hard because I cannot see him or feel him right now.  But I know he's there.  And right now, that's enough to get me to tomorrow.

Feelings

I was driving down O Street.  My car has been having some issues, so it's hard for me to get started, but once I get going I'm ok.  Each stoplight kept turning red right when I got to it.  I'd have to get going all slow and cars were passing me on both sides.  I felt such a parallel to my life right now.  Every time things get going, and things seem to be looking up, I have to start all over again.  And the faster or higher I get, the lower and harder I fall.  It takes longer each time to get going again.  I feel so beaten down.  E's health issues have affected every aspect of our lives.  I can't work much because he needs so much attention.  C doesn't get as much attention, and really E doesn't get as much as he would if he was healthy either.  Most of our time is spent getting feedings ready, and he sleeps a lot of the time in between.  We don't get much sleep, and when we do get a good amount (5-6 hours), it's broken into at least two chunks.  It's starting to really wear me down.  Maybe I'm just having a bad day.  Our finances are horrendous.  We thought we were really making progress, even in to April.  That first hospital stay was the start of a downhill mudslide. Between expensive formula, then more expensive formula, then using higher concentrations and thus going through the most expensive formula even faster....and expensive medicines....and huge bills from his stays and treatments, labs and tests and many many visits to the pediatrician...I'm starting to feel pretty beaten down.  Maybe this is just something we all go through at some point.  I know things will look up sometime soon.  

This is how I feel today.  My emotions are all over the place, but they are trapped beneath the surface...as if it is cold out and I'm a lake, and even when there's a break in the ice, the top freezes over so quickly nothing can get out.

I have other feelings.  I feel so afraid that there's something lurking behind E's health issues.  That we are only treating symptoms of some monster that has yet to rear its ugly head.  I am afraid that C will feel neglected, or that she will prefer others to me because I'm not there for her like I have been in the past.  I'm afraid of every cough or sneeze or worse, stomach bug that we cross b/c that will be enough to throw E over the edge.  I'm afraid that JD will have to miss more work, when he really can't miss work, and I'm afraid that if he ever gets sick even for a couple days, that I can't do things on my own.  I'm afraid for this week, that I can't handle everything on my plate, and won't be able to even take care of both kids at once by myself.  I'm afraid of losing myself.

But I am grateful too.  I am so thankful for our family.  JD's family have supported us beyond measure, both physically and emotionally.  They have given so much of their time and love for our grandkids, and they love doing it and never make us feel like we owe them or like they are doing us a favor.  They shower us with grace and love and I will never be able to show them how grateful I am.  My mom and CS have been amazing as well.  Mom went clear to Omaha with me, and then came back and stayed with me.  CS and JC have both helped around the house so much, clearing gutters, trimming trees, mowing, fixing things...and LC has given me so much motivation and emotional support.  Not to mention being very flexible with work.  Everyone has been wonderful...asking how we are doing.  And I know how much worse it could be.  I've done so much research...I've seen families going through things sooooooo much more intense and terrifying.  I'm grateful that we are able to be home, and that E is happy and relatively healthy and growing.

Most of all I am humbled by my heavenly Father.  I feel safe, despite my fears, tears, and anguish.  I know He is holding my family in His hands...and that He has a plan for us.  My children are His, and I am so grateful for the gift of them.  I know He will always provide for us, and that He will give us peace and somehow carry us through this mess.

The View From Up Here

I'm sitting here, on a bench in a hospital room in Omaha, looking out at the city and wondering why time never stays the same.  Time is supposed to be a constant, always moving at the same pace.  Why does it fly?  Why does it stop?  How can it do those things, and yet still be moving at the same old rate it always does at the same time?

Cars fly by constantly on Dodge Street, so I know there are people out there living their lives.  Someone hit the pause button in my life.  All the things I thought I would be doing, they aren't getting done.  The important thing is that progress is being made, despite the halt of time in my universe.  I look out at the bushy, broccoli-like tops of the trees that fill the horizon, and think...they must know how I feel.

Turmoil

Today it is windy.  I am sitting in my chair by the window, watching the wind throw the branches around.  It reminds me of how nothing stays the same.  Even when I am not moving, the wind is moving through me.  My life has been in a constant state of upheaval recently.  Thank goodness I am planted where I am...but all the branches in my life are being thrown around, sometimes quite violently.  I am looking forward to sunnier days.  Where the sun causes growth and happiness and stillness and I can peacefully look up at the blue sky and take a nice deep breath.  I am a tree, reaching toward the heavens. Slowly growing each day closer to the one who created me.  I may be bowed by the wind, but I am strong enough to keep growing.

The Skies. Plural.

Today I randomly selected

Psalm 19:1

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. as my verse of the day.  I think it is so interesting that the author chooses to say the skies rather than the mountains, flowers, canyons, trees...the earth.  The sky is empty, but it is full of wonder.  The heavens, the skies.  God's glory is all around us, and even in the places we can't see, there are proclamations of his wonder.  This verse brings visions of a gorgeous sunset, or a deep blue sky with ethereal white wisps of clouds.  Looking up at night and gazing at the universe.  Or the kind of sky you can stare up at through tree branches for long, deep moments of time and feel like something profound has occurred, despite the fact that nothing has changed.  The sky is always moving and yet never changes.  It's the one thing that stays the same and is never the same simultaneously.  Thinking of something so out of our reach, that we cannot even hold or touch...it seems like the perfect transition from us homely humans who are like ants on the ground to God.  In heaven.  Starting from us playing in the dirt, to the sky, which we can see, then the stars, (which...I won't even delve into their awesomeness today) then God.  In my mind anyway, it seems fitting that the sky is above us.  Where we can look up and hope.   We can see why the sky (or multiple...the sky, the stars, then the heavens themself...everything we can see looking up and more) strive to glorify God and all He IS and has created.  Wow.

Never Forget

Creating is what I'm made for.  It's what we all are made for.  I have a constant yearning to do this, and anything else pales in comparison.  I don't want my life to feel stagnant, and I don't want to ignore my calling in this life.  Knowing this, and owning it, I am taking control and devoting this chapter in my life to creating.  To answering that call, acknowledging the deep yearning I feel to write and create, and going for it head strong.  Being the person I long to be.  It's easy to say, much harder to do.  On this cold May day, I feel like curling into myself and sleeping a long sleep, waking when life is easier.  But instead, I'm going to perform life.  I'm going to set goals, and live up to my own vision of myself.  My first goal is to write everyday, whether it is through blogging, writing my book, or writing music.  My second goal is to finish my first book and publish it by the end of the summer.

Like a Firefly in a Jar

The weather is turning warmer...the kind of warmer that, when the sun goes down, you can still feel it in the air.  It's almost salty, despite living a thousand miles from any ocean.  Our happy feelings come out of hibernation.  Our souls fly like butterflies for the first time, so joyful and free, and a little uncoordinated.  All because it's spring, and there are flowers, and leaves, and green grass, and the sound of mowers in the morning from annoying neighbors.  It's so wonderful.  And with it comes the restlessness.

Wanting to move forward, come alive, but feeling so dead inside.  Winter still has a cold hand on something deep down....it froze so hard that it won't thaw.  Need a spark, a serious burst of energy to break it open and let the flame begin to flutter.

I can be beautiful and stark, and seem to fly free, and still be a prisoner.  The walls may be of my own making, but that doesn't mean I know how to deconstruct them.  Seeing it from the outside, I look intriguing, content, and full of life.  This is the surface.  I am a bug, lit up, but a dirty little bug underneath the glowing warmth of light that surrounds me.  And I'm trapped behind invisible glass.

Freedom is close enough to smell.  I can feel it in the air, not tangibly...just a hint of something wonderful.  I cannot see it, not yet.  It's there, though, out of reach.  We will touch, we will wrap our bodies around each other and become something new and the restlessness will go away.  The weather will stay warm, the flowers will not die, and life will become something no one has thought of yet.  Sigh.

I can't wait.  I wish I knew how to get there.  There is no map, the journey is supposedly more rewarding that way.  Feeling around in the dark is ok, though, as long as the weather holds up.

Life

Life changes so quickly.  Although, during a change, the process seems agonizingly slow.  Like winter, I feel low and depressed with my life is taking a turn that I didn't expect.  It's hard for us humans to adjust to a big life change.  I've had so many in the last year.  My parents split up and are getting a divorce, I unexpectedly got pregnant and had a baby, my Grandpa died, I moved, and all this on top of life's little-large twists and turns.  You know, they happen often enough, and afterward they don't seem like that big of a deal, but when your car breaks down or your basement needs mold clean-up, it sucks.  It just plain sucks.  And when I look ahead and think, "okay, by this date, things will start to get better..."  Well I am just setting myself up for disaster.  Because there's always something.

And yet, things happen to make me realize that life is good, God is good, and He is looking out for me and my family, even when I forget to acknowledge Him, thank Him, ask Him, and so on.

I'm just thankful that my life doesn't actually suck.  And thankful that some unexpected things change our lives not just for the better, but for the best.

Knots made of Red

I sat in a restaurant today with dim lighting, and the entire time I felt dazed from the half-light, like my eyes were only half open, even though I knew they were wide open, and the red light filled my eyes. A friend recently told me that in films they use fake blood, and it is referred to as "red"--not blood. It is the viewer that interprets the red as blood, and it's interesting to me and I can't stop thinking about it. So I sat there, in that booth, and I wanted to know why I wasn't seeing blood, in that red light. Or here, in the coffee shop. Why aren't the walls covered in blood to me? They are just red.

Or if you go the other way, why do things that I know aren't real feel so real and tangible? Abstract things? The thought takes me places that I can't quite grasp yet. Why doesn't blood, or other real things, like the black lamp in front of me, represent something else? Why am I not seeing death or depression? Is it because it is a lamp? My mind is one giant knot. Maybe i just need to know the difference between an adjective and a noun.

It's Tough Cookies, that is, Telling a Tale

The Jacket

A man walked into the bookstore wearing a bomber jacket with a soft fur lining on the collar. He wore a cap pulled low enough that no one could see his eyes. He sat down in the back row, far away from the woman standing at the front. She stiffened as he walked through the door, and when he sat, she turned her back. Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath, steadying herself. She turned back around, her eyes meeting those only in the front row, and proceeded to give a presentation of the book she’d recently written.
The book was about a young woman on a journey of self-discovery. These kinds of books were all the rage, and upon writing it, she found that it was highly marketable. Lots of money flooded in, and the woman found herself in a pickle. Making lots of money drew attention, you see, but she didn’t want that. It was nice to buy the best clothing and have a big condo in the middle of the city, but it wasn’t the motivation for writing. That was internal, a driving force that had to be answered, lest she die.
Now the woman felt silly. What was the big deal? So a strange man was sitting in the back in a bomber jacket. There are a lot of bomber jackets out there. Those were all the rage, too. She decided not to panic, and instead finished her presentation and proceeded to the table that had been set up especially for her. One task at a time. There were two plastic bottles of water on the table, a desk light, and a couple of stacks of books, all with a blonde woman on the cover.
The blonde woman on the cover looked free, with her arms outstretched and a triumphant smile on her face, her eyes almost closed. The wind was blowing her hair, and the title was above her hair, in flowing, happy letters. To the author, the woman was a representation of what she had been searching for the past two years. And what she thought she had found. But no, she couldn’t let her mind wander into doubting herself. She was the strong woman on the cover, the woman on the pages.
The woman sat down, focusing on each autograph, and ignoring the nagging sense of foreboding in her head. She focused on the picture of the happy woman on the cover of each book laid before her. She opened each cover, signed a note to each name written on a small, white piece of paper inside, and handed them back, without looking at the adoring fans in front of her. After a couple of hours, the line diminished, and eventually everyone was content and gone. The woman looked around anxiously, but didn’t see the man wearing the jacket, and so she sighed a breathe of relief and packed up her belongings into a canvas bag.
As the woman walked toward the door, a face across the street caught her eye. Her breath caught in her chest and her hand grabbed her neck. She took one step back, then another, her eyes locked with his. It was the man in the bomber jacket, minus the jacket. For two long seconds, she stared into those eyes, and felt captivated once more. No one else had eyes like these. Her heartbeat resumed as a large dump truck broke her line-of-sight and she quickly turned around. She was heading toward the back door when the bookstore owner stopped her.
“This was left for you, Emily.” He handed her the bomber jacket with the fur lined collar.
Absentmindedly, she replied, “Thanks, Jeff.” She took it and felt the both rough and smooth exterior, the cracks that were a result of years of use. This was the jacket of a man that didn’t care about trends, but wore it instead because it was a part of him. Her hands ran along the inside, feeling the soft fur. She bent, slightly, and rubbed the soft collar on her face, and the smell she found there, for a moment, took her back in time. A million thoughts ran through her head as she tried to make meaning of the gesture. She could go either way, left toward the front door and those eyes, those captivating eyes. Or right, toward the back door, her fancy car, and all she had made for herself. She stood there, contemplating, in the middle of the store, with the jacket in her hand.
And then she took a step forward, leaving the jacket behind.

A Little Out There...

This is a change, it is different. Not something I usually discuss in blogs, and definitely not the way I live my life. But I thought this information was, quite frankly, stunningly awesome. So here goes. This all comes from a magazine that came from a vegetarian starter kit that Suzy showed me.

Eating Meat Harms the Planet.
Global Warming:
According to a recent United Nations report, the meat industry causes more global warming (through emissions of carbon dioxide, methane, and nitrous oxide) than all the cars, trucks, SUVs, planes, and ships in the world combined. Researchers at the University of Chicago determined that switching to a vegan diet is 50% more effective than switching from a regular car to a hybrid in reducing your impact on global warming.

Water Resources:
More than half of all the water consumed in the U.S. is used to raise animals for food. A totally vegetarian diet requires 300 gallons of water per day, while a meat-based diet requires more than 4,000 gallons of water per day.

Pollution:
Farmed animals produce about 130 times as much excrement as the entire human population in the U.S. According to the Environmental Protection Agency, the run-off from factory farms pollutes our rivers and lakes more tha all other industry sources combined.

"Raising animals for food is one of the top two or three most significant contributors to the most serious environmental problems, at every scale-from local to global." -United Nations

"If anyone wants to save the planet, all they have to do is just stop eating meat. It's staggering when you think about it. Vegetarianism takes care of so many things in one shot: ecology, famine, cruelty." -Sir Paul McCartney

So anyway, I'm not naive. I'm a very skeptical person, and honestly, I don't care too much about animal rights. But mass-production and big money are huge problems in the world, both in the financial markets and in within our social structure. I know most people won't stop eating meat-it's sooo good, I know. But remember this stuff. Remember what cutting back can do. Try to get meat from local sources, and fish from the wild, not fish-farms. You do NOT want to know what they do to your food before you get it. Just trust me. And hey, it's fun to try new things and there's no harm in it. I've actually enjoyed trying meatless meats...lol and I LOVE chocolate soy milk. By eating more vegetarian foods, you get healthier and get more energy.

Ok, I think it's time to step down from my soapbox. But if you have any questions or comments, please ask!

Renouncing the Gray

Well it's that time of year again. For some reason, when the leaves start falling and the temperature drops, I get creative and I start to think about things. Lately I've been downright philosophical. I've been thinking a lot about Christianity and what it is about being a Christian that I despise. See, a lot of times, I am ashamed to call myself a Christian. I've been feeling very guilty about this lately, but I think I've figured out where it's coming from, and it came as a bit of a shock to me.

I am not ashamed of Christ. While I may have doubts and questions about how or why, my belief in who is firm. It's the example set by people that call themselves Christians today that gives me this feeling of repulsion. To figure out why this was making me feel this way, I had to think awhile, and this is what I came up with.

I have been to many churches in Lincoln, and never have I felt welcomed by any of the regulars. No one has ever come up to me and shaken my hand or even offered me a smile. Inside the church there is this bubble and anyone new is a threat to disturb the fragile edges that define the boundaries. Anything new or any change is scary, and people don't like to deal with fear.

Maybe this fear of things changing is where judgment comes in. I want to love others. Matthew 22:37-39 (NIV) says .."Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself." People definitely love themselves. I am not exempt by far, but this is something that I've noticed. We are supposed to deny our selves in our service of God so that He can do impossible and amazing things through us. But instead, we crave security and pleasure. We want what we want, and if we want God in this way, then we are trying to make Him work for us.

If we made love the cornerstone of Christianity, then acceptance would be mandatory. I'm not saying that we should say "anything goes" and that sin doesn't matter. It does, but I think that by living our lives boldly in the example of Christ is how we show others what is right or wrong. If we show people the love of Christ...that is what will draw them in. Having strong stigmas and telling someone outright that their lifestyle is wrong will only push them away. But in doing this, we are reinforcing the edges of the bubble, making it stronger. Making it safer inside and more comfortable, and making it impossible for those who are searching to get in.

I am ashamed to be called a Christian, and I've heard that some are calling themselves Christ followers now. I am sick of titles. I love Christ, and I am searching for him. I make mistakes and there is a lot I don't know, but I am honest in my attempt. And I can't deny that God is active in my life. But as far as being a Christian, count me out.

Sometimes.

Do I give up and concede to the feelings of emptiness and despair that threaten me, even after small victories have given me reason to smile only hours before the storm? If the battle is seemingly lost and all hope flees...when there is absolutely no possible way that the bridge isn't burned, that I can still move forward on the path, do I lay down? Or do I fight anyway? Should I, one who normally pushes the boundaries and has every confidence in the One leading the way, give it all up? Do I follow regardless, especially when the fog rolls in and I cannot see him, but only can see the path at my feet he set me upon so long ago? Is he still there, just ahead, just out of sight, or did he take a turn off the beaten path, when I was looking the other way, when the fog grew thick and the smoke burned my eyes? Sometimes its hard to resist. Sometimes I'm not sure if it matters. Sometimes.

My Failure and Beyond

When is my time of wandering over? Every atom in my body is running away from me, searching for that missing part that will complete me and they've left me teetering on the edge of an oblivion. But what is down this great chasm? Is it nothing but despair? Or is it a great adventure? While I wait for my season of fulfillment, I continue to waver. Do I lean toward safety? It is what is recommended, what I see by way of common sense is the correct thing to do. But I continue to hang in a delicate balance, the deep unknown calling my heart, calling my soul to chase it beyond everything I know. But then again, I’d be fine without you.

I cease feeling, and the numb drives my heart to skip a beat as I plunge too far forward and I fail and I fall into a foreign space. I remember that risk, oh sweet beautiful risk is my heart’s true desire. But I only wanted the edge, I never asked for this unknown. My mind is consumed by doubt. Did I choose to jump, or did I fall? Despite my uncertainty, I am certainly falling beyond, so far, so deep.

Then a strange thing. Fingers of flavour flood my senses, it's tough hands grip my heart. It pleases my insides; I can feel them laughing incredulously because I am light and free despite my fear. Something is taking hold of me. Now a choice faces me: do I fall in fear, or do I clutch the strands of simultaneous joy and pain as hard as I can and latch on for life? Do I look back or close my eyes and see where I am taken? I choose the latter. God is sweet on my tongue, and the fear of falling takes a backseat to this new quest. I enter the unknown with grace and stride with purpose. This is my adventure now, and it pleases my soul.

Mounting on Walls of Frustration

How do you keep adding and adding things to an already full life? I've been learning about dependency. Dependency on God, but also on others. It's something God's been trying to teach me for a long time, but I'm a little slow. The problem is that I don't want to change. That requires risk. But of course, God's teaching me about that too. I reach out through words, and I want to reach out more. I recently read an article about the difference between the way we speak and the way we write. If you read something aloud, chances are that what you say flies right past the listener's ears. And if you type what you say it looks rather funny. And confusing. I think like I write, but I can't speak like I think.

It's like blowing snow on a windy day, the way my mind works. The pattern of coming back to this moment time and time again has convinced me that what I need is you. And what you need is me. It's so simple, I know. And profound, on striations beneath the level of our eyes. And that brings me to my next problem.

Someone asked how to treasure that dependency recently. This question bothers me. How do we treasure our dependency on God? We can thank him, but we can't put it in a safe or a jewelry box or a secret box with all our old notes and photos that have sentimental value. It's something that needs to be portrayed, out in the open and in the risky places. It's going to get dented and scratched by life. But we humans, as a rule, do not do that to the things we treasure. It kind of reminds me of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade...when they find the holy grail, this elite treasure, and it's plain and used. The least obvious of all of the beautiful treasures in the room. And it's like Jesus. This precious gift we have that is tossed around and discarded time and time again. So how do we treasure Jesus? I don't know. We live our lives for him. But is that treasuring him? I don't know how to treasure something that is intangible. Dependency is too abstract for me to hold on to, like soap in the shower. Once I start to grasp it, it slips away, out of reach.

Listen to the Waves [sound is good]

Check regularly as I will always be updating and adding songs. Cheers!

As I Go

I walked around campus today. The wind playfully tickled my neck as I took notice of the quickly falling leaves. Not many still stubbornly clung to the trees, leaving them looking like skeletons against the crisp blue sky. I remember I hugged myself, feeling a twinge of nostalgia; I always feel random twinges of nostalgia in November. It's the time of year, the changing temperatures bringing life-giving death and so many of us bundle into ourselves, hiding beneath our layers. I feel safer and sadder. But it's a familiar feeling, and I find comfort in the still green grass reaching their small necks toward a faraway sun. I paused beneath a grove of trees, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I felt more alive when I hid within the shadows of the arms and fingers of those sleeping giants. And then I plunged ahead, into the deceitful sunlight and let it weave it's golden rays into my hair.

Beloved Huskers, Oh How We Miss Them

I know it has been awhile since I have written a blog, but there are some things on my mind. The first of which is the recent Husker performances. (In case you didn't know, I'm a huge husker fan). I'm not talking about this year or even the past few years, but since the last national championship. Tom Osborne's last year, the last year of glory. Many people have been expressing their disappointment in this season's husker team by comparing them to those we grew up with. The early 70's, the early 70's, the entire decade of the 90's. The last three generations have witnessed some of the best games in college football history. What do I think about this comparison? I think it's stupid. I think it's wishful thinking and not going to do anything but "demoralize the troops." However, I do think that these feelings are valid.

The problems lie in the leadership of the team. Whether that is on the player level, the coaching, or the athletic department (heck why stop there--someone else is always responsible), the problem lies in the blatant lack of emotion shown in all levels of management. Although flashes of brilliance have shone here and there this season, there is obviously no heart to this team, no fire. Maybe it's cliche to quote a movie, but in "We Are Marshall," it is stated that winning is all that matters. This is completely true. And, especially on the coaching level, one can see that each game is just a step leading, well, no one seems to know where. Winning becomes virtually irrelevant, and the comments we see are along the lines of "we made mistakes, but our boys played pretty good." Blah. Matt Davison nailed it on the head when he spoke about Nebraska's lack of passion during the Missouri game this year.

Winning is everything. Telling yourself that "it's just a game" or "as long as they have fun..." is a joke. With how much college football generates, money is a convincing enough argument for winning but to suggest otherwise is a delusion. Who heads out on the field on football Saturday in front of almost 100,000 and isn't thinking that they will do everything in their power to win? In college football, a player that is recruited is playing for four years and then he moves on with his life. Whatever road he may take, a college football career is a stepping stone for him, but not for the coach and not for the school; they are the constants. For a student to be made a mere step (in a path that is becoming increasingly longer and more obscure) is disgustingly wrong. I hope for all our sakes that someone wises up and, whether it's through new coaches, staff, players, or mindsets, the Huskers can continue along the path set 117 years ago; the arduous task of an ongoing winning tradition.

Summer

It's been awhile, but not without good reason. Not only was a busy with a summer job and summer classes, but I have been writing a lot and recently have been working on one particular project. Often life throws distractions in our faces, and blogging and surfing the net aren't priorities for awhile. Hopefully, now that the fall semester is starting soon, I'll be more attentive. Keep checking back!

sighing takes lung capacity

It's been a long sigh, old friend.

You're probably wondering what I've been up to. Well, for one, I've found that other peoples' happiness is really quite lovely. I'm so glad my friends are getting married. Now if they could just stay that way, and without the rugrats. No no, I'm kidding. They can be separate things, though. Enough of that. No lectures from me. I love kiddos. I also love freedom. Hey!

It's been perfect skate weather, and I haven't even annoyed my neighbors lately. It's a very sad fact that I'd like to change. Maybe I'll head out tonight, before the rain comes. Maybe tomorrow. Summer classes started today, as did the usual screw-over with student bills and things of that sort. It goes with the learning. Balance, and such.

My new favorite song has this title:
The Unwinding Cable Car
Followed closely by:
There Is No Mathematics To Love And Loss (I just like the lengthy-ness of the title)


Both are by Anberlin. A favorite band of mine. They like to write a bunch of words and then make them fit into great melodies that are supported ever so delicately with walls of ethereal lead lines and harmonious harmonies. See what I did right there? I was redundant. Sorry. It just came out that way.