Youth Evaporates

4 06 2012


But joy never ceases to surprise.

Back Intact

1 02 2010

And we’re back.  Pay no attention to doppelgangers, identity thieves or Oxford commas; give no mindful credulity to those who would spurn your royal we.  The I in Iowa is here, and he’s spilling Starbucks Zen Tea all over himself and his Woot! shirt.

Let me clarify:

We’re back on the air after a little interterm break.  Because, let’s face it:  the academic calendar, while likely to spoil you and deprive you of energy and the will to go on, is probably the best calendar there is.  Gregorians be darned.

Books finished: 3 Sayers, 1 McCullough, 1 Lewis and 2 Conleys.  As in, Darby Conley.

Hey hey hey! Can’t we all just get a lawn?  -Satchel

As you can see, a frenetic mindset is the name of the game tonight.

Oh, I got a promotion.  At least, I didn’t get fired.  And I’m getting paid more.  And I have started worrying about work tasks during my free time.

Bemoaning and groaning brood infinite loathing

From readers and feeders alike,

But if man’s true music has yet to be used, it

Will prove to improve when it ends.

Cut throat (Machine Gun Post)

11 10 2009

I like finding things out about people.  Knowing something about someone without having to ask them makes me feel smart — probably because I figure no one could ever find anything out about me.  Here I am, in a little cranny, hoping someone looks for me but does not find me.  I have recurring dreams about hiding from people or things, and I never feel that I am hidden enough, and am usually discovered or shot.  Once, stabbed.

I like hiding from people.  I was playing a game (wouldn’t you know?) with some people last night in which there is lots of hiding and lots of searching for the dead.  It is called Cutthroat Mafia, and it is capitalized because it is an official game.  I remember playing it once in youth group growing up, and once in college in the dark and soundproof production center in our school’s film department.  The little sound stage had special walls in it that absorbed all the sound, and it was unbearable to sit in there, in the black, for more than a minute or two.  I guess I don’t like hiding that well.  Or maybe it’s that, without ambient noise, I feel completely exposed.

I don’t know why I like the idea of hiding so much.  I like going places people will not expect me to be, and sort of insulating myself from the sphere of those I know for a time.  I somehow ended up telling a couple kids last week about what I liked to do when I was in jr. high.  One thing I told them was that I would ride my bike down to the Baywood Market, buy some Tart ‘N Tiny candy, and go read in a hidden little grove of trees.  I also told them some lies in hopes of making them into better people.  I don’t think it worked.

I sometimes wonder (in the swallows of my narcissism) if there are people out there that want to find out things about me.  I don’t tell a lot about myself to people, and I often let them think things about me that are not true, just because I like having a “true” self that few have ever had access to.  This seems neurotic, childish and weird to me.  I think I just want to feel special.  Most people do, though.  I felt special today when I ripped a shot into the mesh from 20 yards out on a rolling ball.  I also “one-timed” a pass into the net on a two on one earlier in the day.  It was a good day for soccer.

See?  I just told you about some good things I did while playing soccer today, but I think I’m purposely letting you assume that I take a lot of pride in those.  Well, I do, but not because I think they were something that remotely matters, or that such things will enhance my standing among my peers.  Rather, I let readers think I care a lot about pick up soccer because I want to feel as if I am better than people see me, or something.

I think this might be some perverted form of humility.  It’s certainly very ________.  I have started lots of sentences with “I” in this post (MGP rules), but I don’t care about changing it.  I swing back and forth between obsessing about how I look to those I don’t know and resolving not to care about how I look even around those I am close to.  I don’t care about wearing glasses in pictures, I don’t care if my hair looks good, I don’t care what I am wearing at all.  I simply want to have fun, do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly.  I am afraid that I’ve yet to track down a single member of this triumvirate, but hold strong, dear readers.  I do not write for you to know about me, but for you to travel with me.  I share with you not so that you can see into the intricate details (yawn) of my life, but so that I do not feel alone.  Maybe I also just like being esoteric for the sake of feeling pompous.  I suppose pomposity has its advantages, after all.  How much do circus ringmasters make again?

It occurs to me, as I started to write about hobbits of all thing, that perhaps I am reticent to “reveal myself” in fear that any disdain or rejection will then reflect upon my actual self, and not just the image of myself that I have, through negligence, perpetuated.

I think I probably just like screwing with people though.

* * * * *


Black Tares

5 09 2009

Those people who

See only black and white

Only see black in the white;

Never has grey looked so good,

But are you deafer than all that?

Are you as stoic as you don’t say you are?

I know the clock doesn’t wait

But I hope you can slip into neutral for me

As my shoelaces just broke, as usual.

I’ve dashed out to the car for the hundredth time

But you still don’t seem like you’re waiting

Or are you just waiting for someone else?

I suppose that’s why

I’d rather be alone.

Emaline knows herself as well as I do

But she chose to forgo what I knew she could show

In favor of succumbing to the flesh numbing savor

Of truly unadulterated bliss.

Emaline, you need to find me next year

When we are both at the same spot

But not moving so quickly.

I can revolve and resolve upon you

But it really depends on what they say

Not because they matter

But because they see more than either of us.

So I am closing the door and trying to hang on

But I’m over my head

So someone will need to carry me for once

Until we all come to rest

With the rest of them.

The lights are off again,

But no one is my everything

And the solemn silence of the dark

embraces me more wholly

Than any tear-soaked visage has ever done.

For the darkness sees what is there

And is not deceived by the sunshine,

What is, remains in the dark

But what cannot last shines most brightly at noon.

So if the moonless night has anything left to say

I am listening.

And if the acrid stars are done pandering,

I will have my peace.


26 08 2009

I am lazy and selfish.

Thankfully, I can usually make myself forget this with some sunflower seeds and a good book.  Is reading selfish?  I often look forward to getting home from work so that I can isolate myself in a corner of The Coffee Shop or the park, reading about dead people.

I guess I should be dedicating more of my time to helping others.

Our church has an Awana program that I think I am going to be helping in this year; I know it is only one night a week, but hopefully it will be a bit of a conscience alleviation for me, as I am apparently becoming prone to alienating people I care about by not making the effort to spend time with them.  Of course, if you can catch me at a good time with a random phone call, I will say yes to almost anything.  I gave up making excuses like twenty girlfriends ago; lying is just too easy to be fun, and too horrible for my heart to endure.  Yes, Corey, I will go eat five hot dogs and hamburgers to watch an ANA/DET match.  Yes, I will randomly drive over to school at 10:30 just to steal a sign.  Yes, I will play soccer even though I would really like to take a nap.

Oh, that’s right, I am incapable of napping.  Except at work.  I am getting dangerously close to old man territory — falling asleep in my chair at work.

I hope that type of thing doesn’t stay on your re-sume!

Anyway, I turned down golfing tomorrow afternoon for the sake of another buddy.  Let’s just hope I get enough work done so that I don’t feel guilty around both of them.

None of what I just wrote makes much sense to me…I can’t imagine having to figure it out if you’re someone else (which you are).

MC Defenseless

26 07 2009

Micah and I were in charge of “running the show” for Thatcher & Laura’s wedding reception this weekend.

I know, I know.

Nothing major went awry, but my favorite moment was this:

The wedding coordinator’s husband comes up to me after the reception has started, and asks if we have any karaoke planned.  I told him no, we do not, sorry.  He then asks if there is a keyboard or something like that.  I say, a little more hesitantly, that I know of no musical implements other than the sanctuary piano.  I then ask him if I can help him with something, and he informs me that, oh, it’s no big deal, but he figured he could sing a number for the bride and groom for them on this special day.


I actually considered, for the briefest instant, suggesting to him some other way of honoring my friends.  The look on their faces when this random guy started to serenade them would have been better than any gift.  Any gift for me, at least.  They probably would’ve been really annoyed.

Made a 90s playlist today.  All is well.

Romanian mayor’s Nazi uniform provokes outrage

21 07 2009

The best quote in the article has to be this:

“I checked it before I put it on, but the swastika was very small and I didn’t see it,” he said. “I really liked the look of the uniform after seeing it in the Tom Cruise film ‘Valkyrie.’ I bought it from a costume hire shop in Germany.”