The other guy

1. In any like terms, wherein meaning is subjectively applied, of what worth is my ability to perform?

In an audience of one, applause roars as I roll out of bed and let out a lion-like yawn. "Sensational form" remarks the voice echoing in the halls of my mind. Further cheers and encouragements come as I sit writing reflections, penning ponderings of prose and philosophy, frantically filling folds of loose-leaf. Feeling 20 feet tall, proud of all gifts bestowed upon me, thoroughly thankful for their source, I mirror all praises showered upon me by my audience upward to my maker. I am man, made to praise and rejoice in all that I do. Thanks spouts freely from my lips as I'm forever reminded of Your work in me.

Suddenly, appearing in the distance, I see the fuzzy outline of one just like me; one who stands on two legs, one with two arms, one who looks capable of performing my specialties: the yawn, the stretch, the roll out of bed, even the thinking part! This can't be good. Does this one know what I'm capable of? Soon, with much curiosity do I learn of this one. He writes. He writes well. He writes of his maker, he writes of his feelings, he writes thoughts in such ways I've never considered. Suddenly, the applause comes to a halt and I put down my pen, never to lift it again. I forget my purpose and ignore my gifts. In light of this other, I let myself abandon my purpose.

A voice fills my head, the voice I'd once let cheer me to exciting new heights. Reluctantly, I let it speak and listen as it fills me with hope.

"I gave you talents for your use, for you to apply, to change and encourage change around you. This place is his alone, as yours is only fit for you. I miss your writing; it hurts me to see you discard your talents for want of what he has. The world needs you both, not to compete, but to enrich it. Pick up your pen, become the man you're made to be."

So I did.

So this is where these tactics come from...

While I was hard at work procrastinating studying, I found this little video about American political jeers. Enjoy!

Love might look something like this

No titles come to mind as I frantically type all that passes through my mind. It's been too long. I think it's a good feeling to return to my blog with the excitement of encountering an old friend that I need to fill in with more than what happens to me. This is the essence. In the moments of deliberation, contemplation and realization the true self is shared.

Ever get the desire to go against the grain? Counter-will, I believe Mel calls it. Anyways, every time I am asked whether I'm an introvert or an extravert, I generally find that an honest answer is both. Maybe I feel that it's a cop out, so I say extravert, because the presence of others influences me to feel social. Yet, in the quiet of the night, with nothing but some music and my thoughts, I feel really comfortable. Solitude is maddening when it's all one knows, yet as an option it's the freedom to realize your thoughts can run their own course. Further maddening is it to realize you're thinking and doing exactly what the world wants of you, without intervention or choice.

I write as I think, which is why I don't edit my posts. I spell check, of course, because an English major like myself can't be caught making mistakes, but I like the flow of chaos. It's garbage to read, at times, but it is so much more real than a polished entry of thought. Who thinks with such structure? Certainly not myself.

In a post that began with such promise, I've neglected much substance. Here we go (I seem to favour that phrase). Sorry folks, I've been sitting here all of 5 minutes (sounds like less time than it feels like when you're keeping track) and I've been unable to think of anything but my fiancé. Scratch that, I'm not sorry. You know what people ask you all about when you're engaged? Yes you do, don't you? That's right, the wedding. To be honest, I don't know much about the wedding. To be entirely honest, I don't care much about the wedding. I care about the bride, I care about the groom (good fellow, he is) and I care about the marriage. Anticipation is jealous of my excitement as the day approaches that Leah and I are unified under God. With tremendously hyperbolic understatement, so greatly down-played do I tell you that excitement such as this only comes for truly wondrous things.

All the joy, peace, calm, and love in the world do I want for her. Tonight I could barely bear to leave her and get to my homework. I felt overcome with the spirit. I felt confirmed. I feel confirmed. Man is it ever a great feeling. So yes, please do ask. Ask all you're willing to hear about; as I could speak 10,000 words of what I feel for her. I could share in great depth, with huge emphasis and marvellous emotion, speaking till my voice dries up or your ears begin to filter my utterances as white noise. But, please don't expect such a response to your questions of the wedding. I will refer you to Leah/give an uncertain response. My thoughts are tied up with the musings of my heart.