Radioactive Aardvark Nationality Domesticated Onslaught Metaphysical

Are you hungry? Are you sick? Are you begging for some bread? She lived with a broken man, a cracked polystyrene man.  I'm a creep.  Apparently it's called ergodic literature, and I kind of dig it, but at the same it's rather exasperating.  Maybe not exasperating.  Maybe tedious.  And sometimes it makes for a Day of Interest if you're up for it.  But sometimes I'm not feeling it, and I'm left following the sentence as it winds its way across pages, over commas and semi-colons, but never a period, and I get lost somewhere along the way.  Maybe you will, too.

Anthropomorphism, start!

She wasn't dead, but she was terminal.  Stop whispering!  She concocted a disease, a rather nasty one, that left her essentially brain dead.  Stop shouting!  At first I held out hope that she would recover, but she didn't, not even after she was supposedly healed.  She crawled, yes, and ticked idly, but she stopped responding and turned blue then black then the lights just winked out and I left her for dead.  I stole everything I could from her carcass, thanked her for being good, and then I went Kevorkian.  I'm a wicked child.

Anthropomorphism stop!

First degree murder is premeditated and planned and done willfully.  Second degree murder is not planned in advance.  Voluntary manslaughter is murder by accident, maybe, possibly, if your lawyer's good enough or you're sincere enough.  Involuntary manslaughter is purely unintentional.  Do not cry out or hit the alarm, you know we're friends 'til we die.  Suicide is self-murder, and can be rendered first degree, second, or manslaughter.  Either way you turn, I'll be there.  Open up your skull, I'll be there.

.wen sa doog sa (ylraen) s'ehs won dna ,yriaf doog a fo ecnatsissa eht htiw efil ot kcab thguorb saw ehS

See what I'm saying?  It's tedious, but once you throw in a mystery, a monster, a thing, a hope, a promise, a chance, a sanatorium, a disaster, an eleven-year old, a foray into foreign language, then you start seeing that there is a purpose to it all, that the ergos one does to understand is intentional and disorienting and disemboweling (okay, I just made up that last bit), and the format is important, as much as a format can be.

As per Demitri Martin, saying I'm sorry and I apologize is pretty much the same thing.  Unless you're at a funeral.  I love the cold snap.  I actually had to close the window last night and throw a quilt over us.  Even the curs were lazy from the cold.  Not-so-subtle-but-profoundly-strong-suggestion: Go to Tor.com (here) and read Kij Johnson's astonishing ultra-short story (like it's totally less than a thousand words, probably more like 500[edit: according to MSWord it's 1,254 {that's MCCLIV to any of you Ancient Romans that are roaming the Nets here, or wayward seventh graders for that matter}]) called "Ponies."  Sit down.  Stand up.  Like, zomg that story was so gooood, and it's so fitting for the RIP challenge, and I really think you should read it and tell me what you think about it.  Reckoner, take me with you.

Life rolls like a Bob Dylan, o'er choppy seas and serene lakes.  All around me winds blow hard, but I myself am fine.  It sucks seeing others maltreated.  Anyone can play guitar.  (Nice Dream)  So I saw that Stephen King is releasing another Dark Tower book, this one called The Wind Through the Keyhole and set between Wizard and Glass and Wolves of the Calla.  I can't decide how I feel about this one.  Mostly indifference.  I quite enjoyed that series, but at the same time it was also lacking in parts, especially there as the ka-tet drew near the Tower.  Oy was one of my favorite characters.  Myxomatosis.  I may return to Mid-World, and I mayn't.

Anthropomorphism spoiler!

(It was the computer.  Being dead and now quickened.)

I'm the kind of person that pretty much always sits on my left leg whenever I fold one up beneath my bottom to sit.  For that matter, I almost always cross my left leg over my right.  It just feels wrong going the other way.  Remyxomatoxis.

The Well, it comes.  And with it renewal and hope, but not in us, but in He who made us.  A trip to the orchard tomorrow, where we'll steal apples from the trees and then pay for them, though probably the other way around, cause I don't want to set the world on fire, I just want to start a flame in your heart, and I don't really wanna get arrested, either, and I don't wanna wait for our lives to be over, and U don't have 2 be cool 2 rule my world.  I'm pretty sure someone has replaced my coffee creamer with another creamer of the same design and bottle; instead of the flavor I was expecting this morning (white mocha), I got something oddly reminiscent of banana, a flavor that's universally acknowledged to be deplorable and loathsome to God and man.  But I drink it, eyes darting, waiting to ensnare my assailant.  Ever vigilant!  Ex loganus.

A Picture-Blog Story, Being of the Kind Not Generally Recommended for Children and/or Strictly Carnivores

Once upon a time there was a plot of land.  That's not the same thing as saying that the land had its own agenda and that it was full of scheming.  There are plots of land like that, but this is not that kind of story.  So if you want that kind of story, just pack your things and find yourself a different Source, cause this one ain't gonna yield to you, Mr.-Evil-Soils Person.

Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night one day and there was a plot of land 'neath the clouded, clear skies.  Now the skies aren't duplicates, they just are.  Jive?  And on this land a man worked the ground and planted crops.  He took his hoe and brutalized the faithless dirt.  He garnered his seeds and spread them in the ground.  He tapped into the vast reservoir beneath his property and watered the now victimized land, and in the end he saw that it was good.  And when he finished there, he was so pleased with himself that he found another victim and assaulted it, too.

As los dias passed, the man watched his creation gingerly.  The man was especially good at watching things gingerly, as his glorious mane atop his smooth head once was a radiant rojo.  Alas, now only a beard of ruddy brown and auburn exists.  But he watched his plots develop, exposition pouring out into conflicts, lecherous invaders fighting to overthrow the planted seeds and tended ground, the rising action cascading into a calamitous climax of angry fingers and wicked instruments, strewn dirt and black compost, an angry sol and a bitter, cloudless, rainless cielo.

An event so important to the story of the man, so life changing that it deserves to be boldfaced and underlined, happened upon him quite expectantly, though somehow altogether unexpected when it did.  This event is intertwined with the plot of land, as it drew the man away from his plots for a time.  Where once he cared (gingerly) and tended, his presence was suddenly gone, leaving the lone crops unprotected from the wretched invaders.  And when he returned, his precious plots were overran and nigh vanquished.  The invaders had won.  In fury, the man threw himself at the plots, greedy fingers pulling anew, rending many of the new inhabitants to pieces for their sins.  He fought valiantly, but the war had been decided and he had been defeated.

His heart left the plots then and he went off to spend his time with the aftermath of the aforementioned event.  And the plots of land grew lonely.  The sun burned fiercer.  The clouds scoffed in their stingy pride.  From time to time the man would remember his plots and tend to them with water and a fleeting, uninterested attempt of ousting.

And anon came the day of betrayal, when the man decided to once again victimize his subdued plots.  He stole from their weakness great bulbs of onions, crooked limbs of carrots, balls of tomatoes, noses of squash, bells of peppers, and handfuls of herbs.  The time of reckoning was at hand, and they were found in need.  The man prepared his crops, baptizing them gently in the cool waters of Faucet.  He lay them on the altar and then picked up the CutToTheBonePamperedChef Knife.  And without a second thought, he began his slaughter.  Ruthlessly, he also sacrificed the captured prisoners of potato and celery alongside his own beloved.

When the sacrifice was finished, the man coated the pieces with oil and pepper, a bit of salt, and a dab of butter.  He then threw them in the wok and gave them over to the god of StoveTop Heat.  Time passed, steam rose, the foreigner named Arroz was added, and the crops died again at this third betrayal.

After it was all over, the man partitioned out pieces of the sacrifice and filled two bowls.  He then gave thanks to God for the food, handed one to his wife, and commenced the final betrayal.

fin.

Things About Logan (Part 5)

It's been a long time since I've done one of these posts.

Part 1 is here.  Part 2 is here.  Part 3 is here.  Part 3 (again) is here.  Part 4 is here.

-----
i.  I eat onions, though as a child I swore I never would.
iii.  There is a thing called Transcendental Folk music.  There is a band called Elephant Revival.  I now own their second album.
v.  I like my Kindle more than I ever imagined I would.
one.  The line is drawn, the curse it is cast...
vii.  Holding Avonlea and rocking her to sleep at night is one great joy that I cannot describe.
ix.  Imagine the grossest thing you've ever done/had done to you.  Now multiply that by around forty-six or so.  Now throw in a dog and, uhm, doggy byproduct.  Let's say that I win.
xi.  I abandoned Facebook.  My account's still open (for those that read Rememorandom there), but I'm not planning on coming back.
xiii.  My faith has been challenged more this year than any year ever before, like I'm being refined in a forge fire.  This is exciting, yet also un-fun.
two.  The slow one now will later be fast...
xv.  I'm pretty sure that there are no ugly characters in The Great Hunt.  Everybody is uncannily beautiful.
xvii.  A few weeks ago I took a razor blade to my head.  Since then, I've repeated this process weekly.  I love having a bald head.  (Keisha does not.)
xix.  I've got a stack of books to review from publishers/authors, and I don't have much time to devote to them at the moment.
three.  As the present now will later be past...
xxi.   Big meeting next week, kinda making me nervy, as they always do.
xxiii.  I'm still reading the Fables comics, and it's the only one I actually take time to go to the comic shop and purchase.
xxv.  Stella cut her cornea a while back, but it's mostly healed.
xxvii.  I make my own trail mix.  Holla.
four.  The order is rapidly fadin'...
xxix.  Currently reading The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson, Bloodlines by John Piper, Don't Check Your Brains at the Door by Josh McDowell, the Book of Second Kings and Second Chronicles by God, and The Great Hunt by Robert Jordan.  I'm starting A Dance With Dragons tomorrow, methinks.
xxxi.  Sometimes I get emails from people asking me to review a book and I can tell that they've never spent any time on my blog.  The insincerity is easy to spot.  But sometimes I get respectful-and-sincere emails, where the sender at least pretends like they're trying.  I'm much more likely to say yes with the latter.
xxxiii.  That's a long Roman Numeral.
five.  And the first one now will later be last...
xxxv.  I love Monday Night Tennis league.
xxxvii.  I wish OBKY was a bike-friendly city.
xxxix.  Parentheses are definitely the best of the punctuation marks.
xli.  The word ampersand (&) originates from us having an open-ended alphabet, concluding with "...X, Y, Z and per se and."  This morphed to "...X, Y, and Z" somehow, and the & at the end dropped off.  Fascinating.
six.  Oh the times they are a-changin.
xliii.  I've memorized over fifty verses of Scripture so far for 2011, putting me at about the halfway mark.
xlv.  Skyrim is in the future, and so is the new Zelda game, but I shan't buy either, as gaming has practically ceased to exist.  I've still not beat New Vegas...
xlvii.  I make monstrous Excel sheets with lots of useful/useless information.
xlix.  Seems like a good stopping point.

Letters

Dear Readers,
I've written a short (~1300 words) story that I'm considering submitting for publication.  It's a bit of dark fiction called "Black Sand."  That said, if anyone has a few extra minutes on their hands and would like to do some editing/criticizing of my work, I'd gladly take you up on your offer.  Let me know and I'll send you the doc for your perusal and/or red pens.  My big worry is that it utilizes a common trope I've came across in a few different stories, but nevertheless, this was how I envisioned the work from the get-go.  Some more eyes on it wouldn't be unappreciated...

Dear Music Lovers,
I've harped adoration and love for the Milk Carton Kids for several weeks now, and it thrills me to finally have some new music to listen to.  Both of their albums are available for FREE on their website (here), or you can purchase them on itunes if you like.  Truly if you appreciate excellent harmonies and "simple" music, then there's really no reason why you wouldn't like the MCKs.  Heck, since the albums are free, there's really no reason why you shouldn't try them out.  I prefer Retrospect to Prologue, but to each his own.

Dear Amazon,
I just bought a Kindle from you and I am ready for it to arrive at Stewartland.  I debated long and hard before I decided to purchase your ubiquitous device, because I am such a lover of a traditional book's feel.  Nevertheless, when I received a large gift card to use on your site I decided to get an e-reader, since the price was drastically reduced.  And now, even though you're not yet in my possession, I'm giddy with the possibilities.  I didn't know that I could check out e-books from the library until I started researching the Kindle.  (Sure, the Kindle isn't technically supported yet, but it will be soon enough.)

Dear Health Insurance Company and Hospital Billing,
Could you please get on the same page?  It's rather frustrating when you mess up an insurance claim filed months ago, which in turn affects every claim filed after it, and you've still not got it corrected.  I don't mind, truly, but it's just aggravating explaining it to people that want their bills paid.  Thanks!

Dear Monday Night Tennis,
I had a blast Monday night.  The match I played in was probably the most fun I've had in tennis is a long time.  Despite their age (I know one guy was 67 and another 69), they were loads better than many younger players on the courts that night.  Indeed, playing with folks much more skilled than I is humbling, but I yearn for this, because that is the best way to improve my game.  I hope the rest of the summer league proves as much fun as Monday did.

Dear Project,
When our relationship began I was but a fledgling engineer fresh out of academia.  You were intimidating at first.  Baffling, even.  So I approached you hesitantly, like a young lover does his beloved.  I worked on you, polishing you, converting you, making you presentable.  And then I sent you off and the Commonwealth of Kentucky decided that they wanted to do things differently and so I returned to you.  Intimidation wore down, and now all I feel for you is loathing and boredom.  I long to be rid of you and onto brighter pastures, but I know that deep down, finishing you puts me without an imminent project to work on and I'll have to resume reading through Illinois Highway Drainage Design Manuals, for I have another young love blossoming over in the Land of Lincoln that will require my unwavering devotion for a time.  But I am not through with you yet, sweet, wretched Project.  Soon, yes, but not today.

Dear Garden,
You started o so prosperously, but this lack of rain has ruined you, I fear.  The jalapenos and bells are doing great, but that's it, unless I count the weeds that have overtaken the onions.  The green tomatoes have yet to turn red, and the squash is small and fickle.  The herbs are managing, but I nourish them more than I do you, though it isn't your fault.  I don't blame you that it's been so hot these last few weeks and that there's been little rain.  Don't go thinking that.  It's my fault that I don't treat you like you deserve, but let's face it.  You're castes below my family.  Sorry.

Dear Unnamed Independent Author,
I appreciate you contacting me to review your book, even though I declined it.  Still, it gave my heart a great and heavy chuckle to see the letter addressed to Claudio, though I confess, it somewhat worries me, too.  Thanks for the effort, though.  (Note: Read the "Contact" tab to understand why this is funny.)

Sincerely all,
logankstewart

Life is...

Life is green poop, milky-white spit-up, and faint blue lines on a diaper indicating clear urine.  It's a splotchy, ruddy face that changes from peach to red as it smiles and cries.  It's the silver-brown eyes of Avonlea as she soaks in everything.  It's staring at a black screen filled with fuchsia, lime, aqua, and lemon lines that represent delineated water sheds and their drainage areas.  It's the mind-numbing snow white of an Excel background and the faint grey lines that separate individual shells.  It's the red-hot temperatures in the haze of summer.  It's the deep greens of a jalapeno plant and the dirty oranges of uprooted carrots, the daffodil yellows of squash and the crisp violets of petunias.  It's the off-white paper and straight-edged text of The Heroes.  It's the impossibly dark crimson of blood as it's freely given away routinely for no reason other than it's a good thing to do.  It's the pale streetlights shining through midnight window blinds and the sunrise turning the sky into a melting pot of colors.

Life is a wonderful adventure and every person I encounter is a character in a book.  I am blessed beyond reason, loved undeservedly, and filled with joy.  I am blown away by a God of impossibilities and reminded with every color I see how great a Creator He is.  Life is amazing and I would change nothing if I could.

Birth & Rejection

And so it is we find ourselves back in the machine, barreling through tubes and squeezing through cogs, along once again for the ride.  A week away afforded rest and family bonding time, to be sure, though it was but a second in its lasting.  Life as a dad has been wonderful so far, and I'm sure it'll only get better.  Avonlea has already peed on my hand, as well as the couch, and it didn't phase me one bit.  Had it been the dogs, I would've been perturbed, but my daughter doesn't generate ire yet.

Much of the week was tiring, learning to semi-sleep and still function firing all cylinders.  This is still a work in progress.  We also had many visitors, and while this is a blessing (many brought delicious foodstuffs), it's also very tiring.  One night we found ourselves upstairs and abed 'ere nine in PM, a thing most unheard. 

As for the birth, the word that keeps coming to mind is surreal.  Keisha had been having high blood pressure, though two lab tests showed no preeclampsia.  As it were, we arrived at a routine appointment two Thursdays ago at 2:30 to have another round of measurings and what not.  Fluid levels were low, blood pressure was high, and the doctor decided to ship us out to the hospital for monitoring (nothing to worry about, normal, happens all the time, don't worry about going by the house).  So at 4pm-ish we walk through the doors of Labor & Delivery, looking to be hooked up and Keisha monitored.  Bloods taken.  Pee, too.  Lab results done in the post-haste.  And come 5o'clock-ish, the doctor says that things aren't well and that Keisha's gonna need an emergency C-section (a thing unheard of!)  This was not in the plans, as Keisha intended to go au natural, and my sweet, lovely, and perfect wife freaked out.*  Yet, after we understood that the longer she went with Avonlea inside, the greater the chance for a stillborn birth, she decided a C-section fit the bill.  And so I was given scrubs, Keisha was given drugs, and we were rushed to the O.R.  And, lo, at 6:02, a daughter was born.  I shall never forget it.  I'd say it was the insanely dry air that caused tears to sting my eyes, but I'd be lying, and that I am not.

Avonlea arrived, crying, peeing, and the world dipped heavily.  I saw my wife's insides, all purple and red and blue, as the backdrop to my new baby, upheld by the good doctor's hands.  Avonlea was beautiful.  And then we got a quick picture and I was rushed to the nursery with the babe, where soon we were reunited with Keisha for permanent.

The hospital stay was three nights, and it passed quickly.  We arrived at Stewartland, where the dogs curiously sniffed the new arrival, and life resumed.  The world was wonderful, and it's been ever since.

As it were, something happened to me the very day we arrived home, and then again two nights later.  Something that hit me hard and shook my faith in the world a little bit.  Something that honestly put a wretched damper on my glorious week, sickening me to the gut and wrapping against my faith.  In short, and without going into much, I was rejected.  I was going to be a deacon at church, but in order to do that, one must be questioned.  My answers were apparently too liberal/immature on the matter of alcohol, tithing, and a qualification of deacons, though I based all of my beliefs on my understanding of the bible.  Scripture doesn't prohibit drinking, only drunkenness.  Tithing is required, but to the Lord, as I see it, not necessarily the local church (excepting the OT).  And deacons, well, it says plainly a man of one wife, as it were, and that's enough for me.**

This rejection hurt.  A lot.  Not so much that I was found lacking, but that these three issues were enough to cause such dissension among the deacon body.  Romans 14:17 says "For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit."  Jesus said to love God, love people (obviously paraphrased), and that's the important thing.  How can we as a church hope to reach the lost when we're too concerned with these less-than-important things?  Sure, they matter, to a degree, but they're not issues to base a foundation on.  On Jesus and His love, these are foundations. 

While my heart still grieves over this, I've prayed for guidance and understanding.  I've prayed for unity in the church like never before.  I've prayed for a loving and forgiving heart, one that holds no grudges (I thank God I've never been one to do so) and one willing to serve as Jesus.  I don't have to be a deacon to serve God.  Amen.

So, yeah, an unimaginable wonderful and tragic week.  What a great juxtaposition, eh?

In the end, the birth of Avonlea trumps anything.  Like eternal life will always trump out any of life's problems, simply holding my daughter against my chest works miracles for an aching heart.  My daughter is beautiful, healthy, and fierce.  She's got Stewart blood in her, olde and magickal.  She's a noble, as her da.  And we bow to no man but the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. 

------------
*freaked out probably gives it justice.  She was definitely upset. 

**I've obviously simplified this.  The interrogation spanned three hours over the two evenings.  It likely was the most intense thing I've ever been involved in.

The Recursive Loop

and then the kid pops out of the corner, holding something in his hand.  "What's that you've got there?" Someone asks.  "Oh, this, it's nothing."  Sure.  Sure it is, kid.  Nothing's working a job 12 hours a day, 7 days a week and getting paid in jelly beans, and even then, that's something.  It's all a matter of perspective, see. But you're not supposed to be drinking that stuff.  It'll rot your teeth out, and, and, you're gonna be a deacon!  You just wait. 

and then the kid (who's no longer a kid) shrugs his shoulders and takes a big swig of the stuff.  He holds the bottle tilted, letting the purple liquid pour unpressurized.  It fills his mouth and begins spewing over, running down his shirt.  When he's finished he smiles a wicked smile, his white teeth stained violet.  He looks like a madman.  "Oh, for the love of... it's a Mtn. Dew Pitch Black.  Jeez."  Someone storms off, upset and rankled.

and then the kid sits down and pops in his new cd, My Morning Jacket's latest Circuital, and gives it a listen.  He's pleased to hear an official album version of one of his favorite songs, "Wonderful (The Way I Feel)," which he first heard on an NPR podcast from the Newport Folk Festival, where Jim James played an acoustic set with M. Ward accompanying from time to time.  Oh, he thinks.  "Outta my System" sounds like the Beach Boys.  Wow.  And is that a children's choir in "Holdin on to Black Metal"?  How does this band continue to re-create itself and yet stay the same?  He doesn't know, but he's glad he bought the $5 album from Amazon.com (available throughout June).  Totally worth the five bucks.

and then the kid leans over and whispers something to himself.  He tells himself that yes, it's true, his wife is now officially on bed rest.  Her blood pressure has been up, and just to be safe, they've prescribed it.  The baby that grows within her slept soundly through the lengthy monitoring yesterday, but for the kid and his wife's patience they were rewarded with new ultrasounds.  Black & white pictures rendered in three dimensions displaying a beautiful baby's face.  Their baby.  Their Avonlea.

and then the kid gets up and cocks his head, listening.  "Hark!" he proclaims.  Ideas flit around his head and he strains to grab one, but they all flee from his hungry clutches.  He persists, finally taking hold of one named Clive, and he sticks it in his ear, where it slips and slides down the canal and drowns in grey matter.  He knows its secret desires.  He sees.

and then the kid inhales deeply, thinking about what all there is to do and to not do.  To Do: mow the yard in the mid 90 degree temperature, pick up groceries, go to the Joe Purdy concert next Wednesday, empty out Stewartland in preparation for next weekend's yard sale, clean out Stewartland for the end of the month's baby arrival, finish up the ditch calculations for the current project and get some channel line data by tomorrow's end, and figure out a way to wrap this post up.  Not To Do:  rob a bank or a bagel shop, stub the toes, slip and fall down the stairs, get a kidney stone from drinking too much Mtn Dew, and accidentally cut my arm off and replace it with a pirate hook and/or chainsaw.  

and then the kid runs away, screaming some wild medley of "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt" and "Thriller" and "I Fall to Pieces."  The long tendrils of Mtn Dew follow behind.  They soon catch up to him, where he's staked out behind a building.  He spies Someone standing up against a streetlight.  His foot hits something--a 20 oz. bottle of Mtn Dew Pitch Black.  It's available for a limited time only.  He picks it up and takes a swig.

Lent, a Reflection

"It is finished."  These were Jesus's dying words as He hang--beaten, bloodied, bruised, and broken--dying on the cross.  With wheezing breath and a mouthful of bile and sour wine, Jesus breathed His last and took on the final weight of God's wrath.  He did it for me, for you, and for everyone else in the world, so that we do not have to be condemned for our sins.  His sacrifice is the ultimate act of love, and there will never be an act greater than this.  For some reason, He loves me.

This is culmination of Lent, and the most profound thing I "learned" through my season of fasting.  For forty-six days I went without certain luxuries, weaning myself down from fruits & veggies in the beginning to juice & water for the last two weeks or so and ending with a 30 hour famine.  Had I been alone, I surely would have failed, but fortunately a few friends decided to embark on this journey with me, and we all succeeded, and drew closer to God in the process.

I'm not sure where to start on this reflection.  I spent a lot of time in the bible, reading Genesis through Deuteronomy.  I've not read from the OT in quite a while, so this was enjoyable and fun.  It's interesting to see Man's beginning, especially noticing the involvement of the Spirit in creation.  And seeing God's promise to Abraham, and carrying it out through Moses at the end of the Torah, is a lot of what I've focused on.  For some reason, God chose to bless Israel, a small, weak, and inferior nation.  He promised to love them and always be with them.

It's crazy to see Israel turn from God so many times.  Practically the rest of the OT is Israel's see-sawing up and down, in and out of God's will.  More often than not they're turned away, chasing after false gods and pagan rituals, even though God warned them not to do so.  And yet, whenever they repent and call on the name of the Lord, God hears their cries and redeems His people.  This love of God is what refined my outlook.  For how is Israel any different than my life?

I began my relationship with Jesus at age 11, fourteen years ago.  After salvation, the flame is always bright and fierce, but time and the world diminish the light.  I never turned pointedly to idols, but really, turning from Christ to pursue any other love is idolatry.  For years I loved Him and sought Him, I failed Him and hated Him, over and over again.  College brought about independence, which led (thankfully) to me buckling down and getting serious.  I earnestly prayed and sought Him more and more, and yet I still failed.  This is no different than today.  I still seek to be more Jesus-shaped with each passing day, but I still screw up and fail, too.  This, too, is what I've learned.  The more I seek to be like Christ, the more broken I realize I am, the more messed up I see myself, the more I realize that without Christ, I am nothing.

It's so humbling to think that Jesus intentionally chose to die for me.  We're calloused and selfish enough to think that we deserve it, but that's a lie to make ourselves feel better about His sacrifice.  For we've all sinned, thus we all deserve Hell and condemnation (Romans 6:23.)  Thankfully, for those of us who are in Christ Jesus, there is now no condemnation (Romans 8:1.)  We're no longer held liable for our shortcomings, for Jesus, the perfect, innocent, blameless Lamb, took on the full price of our sins, bearing all of God's heavy price for disobedience.

It begs the question.  Why does He love me so much?  Why did He give up heaven and glory to come to the earth and offer a path for redemption?  This is the mystery of the gospel, for God sees something inside me that I can't see.  He loves me despite me.  And this impossible love He has for me is the same impossible love He has for you.  This love is a gift we do not deserve, but it's there for us anyway.  I am so thankful to God that is was offered freely to us.

Lent ends with Easter, the day we celebrate Jesus's rising from the dead and finally defeating death and hell.  Without His resurrection, salvation would be impossible, but because Christ was blameless and pure, He was not condemned to an eternity apart from God, but instead given the right-hand seat of the Father.  His sacrifice was final and full enough to cover the billions of people that would come after Him.  All we must do is accept His blood, apply it to our account and God will give us eternal life with Him in heaven.  Everything else is nothing.  If we accept Jesus's sacrifice and his resurrection, we are promised life forever (Romans 10:9).  This is the greatest gift.

The past forty-six days were a great experience for me.  Not only did it open my eyes to God's wonderful love for me, but it also taught me some practical, earthly things, too.  I lost fifteen pounds, a nice side effect.  I didn't die, even though my stomach grumbled and complained many days.  It's sad how spoiled we are.  So many in the world live all their days without enough food, and we complain when we go 12 hours without a meal.  I also realized how much I crave soda pops (Mountain Dew, in particular).  I disciplined myself to waking up much earlier than I need to in order to spend plenty of time in the Word and in prayer.  All of these, plus the aforementioned greater understanding of God's love for me.

In conclusion, Lent was an amazing season in my life, and I'm glad I felt the conviction in my heart to observe it.  Even more so, I pray that you, dear readers, can profess this same love I feel in my heart toward Jesus.  If you don't know Him or aren't sure where you stand in your life with Him, then I beg you, put aside everything else and examine yourself.  Talk with a minister about it.  Read the bible, especially the gospels and Romans.  Shoot me an email, even.  Whatever the case, I urge you, don't let this gift pass you by.  It's the best choice I've ever made in my life, and by the love of God, I want to share it with the rest of the world.

The Strange and Wonderful Life of Logan K Stewart

So here I am, thinking about what to think about.  Writing on writing or listening to someone give a talk on being a good listener.  Watching the hands of the clock go tick tick t i c k   t   i    c      k on out to infinity.  Wouldn't it be crazy if the second hand moved counter-clockwise?  And why's it called counter-clockwise?   Why not anti-clockwise or double-plus-ungood-clockwise?

I'm making my way through Fragile Things, a collection of Gaiman short fiction and wonders.  Here's a link to "The Fairy Reel," a poem that begs to be read aloud over and over again, and best when done by the author himself.  I'm also making my way through Maria Tatar's Annotated Classic Fairy Tales as well as her Annotated Brothers Grimm.  Oh, and then there's Joanna Cole's Best-Loved Folktales of the World, too.  It's been rather interesting.

I spent a few hours last Friday morning discussing some interesting stuff, and after that was over, I went to the coffee shop and spent a few hours reading through The Book of Numbers and thinking about how much God loved the Israelites.  Some time later a man sat down beside me and we had a nice, lengthy conversation about the bible, difficult translations, and guitar.  "Alas," said I, looking ruefully at my flip flops and the pouring, cold rain outside.  "I must be off."  And I apparated to the library, where I spent some time leafing through books and working on a short story.  I've had ideas for "The Doom of the Salt People" in my head a while now, and since I was off and it was raining and the music was good, I went on and pounded out a bit.  Part 1 is available here, if you're interested.

Someone clicked the Next Slide button on the Powerpoint and then I was home, cooking Keisha supper, A) cause I'm sweet like that, B) cause I like to cook, C) cause we ain't had us a date night in a good long time and me cooking seemed like the right thing to do.  Grilled salmon, baked potatoes, sliced carrots, and my universally acknowledged, globally accepted three-pasta-four-cheese macaroni & cheese.  Some wine would've been perfect, but Keisha's got the darling growing inside her and I can't/won't drink an entire bottle, so we dined with unsweetened tea instead.

We've started watching Fringe (thanks Netflix & library!), and we're both really enjoying it.  It's like X-Files meets Law & Order / CSI or something.  So far, so good.  Somehow, we've still not finished Battlestar: Galactica (thanks Netflix & library!)  I think I can only take that show in doses.  I love it, but it's so tense and the drama is so emotionally charged that it's quite difficult to take down so many episodes at once. 

All I know is that it feels great to have my own guitar back in my hands, y'know?  There's just something about the way my baby feels.  I know its neck like a good simile.  My fingers know what fretboard they're used to.  Just how much to move and how much to press.  It's all good, now, but it was ungood a week ago.  Longer, even. 

Yeah, I got my TOMS last night.  Alex & Rachael are getting married next month, and as a groomsman, I got a pair of TOMS.  TOMS all around.  It's the first pair I've ever owned, but they're danged comfortable.  Plus, their mission statement is "with every pair you purchase, TOMS will give a new pair of shoes to a child in need.  One for One."  Quite the awesomeness, methinks.  Check out their website if'n you wanna.  Mayhap something'll tickle your cat fancy, do ya kennit?

Go wish Dave a happy 500th post while you're at it.   Tell him I said hi while you're at that.

Remember me to one who lives there.  She once was a true love of mine.  I feel like I could go on and on and on here, as an ellipsis shooting off into infinity.  I've still not touched on Saturday and its happenings, nor on the fantastic Palm Sunday service we had at church yesterday (yes, there were 4 donkeys, yes there were accidents in the church, yes it was awesome).  Yet, an ellipsis knows its place.  It cuts itself off at three dots, though if it ends a sentence there should be four.

I'll just wrap it up with this.  Breastfeeding class was last Thursday night.  I've never heard anyone say "breast" or "nipple" or "mouthful of breast" so much in my life.  The class was highly informative and tedious.  It easily could've been an hour shorter, but the teacher repeated herself at least three times after every point she made.  She'd basically say the exact same thing over and over again, driving home the point until everyone understood it very well, though she would usually rearrange her words or slightly tweak herself.  For very important things, the teacher would repeat herself, sometimes two or three or four times, making sure everyone understood what she was saying.  It was very informative and mentally taxing. 

Still no public revelation on our daughter's name yet, though it is literary, for you wondering minds....

Take a Breath

It's been rather silent here on Rememorandom for over a week now.  Some of you may have been worried.  Did he get mauled by a great, giant panda?  Did he eat a pita full of salt on a dare and go into a coma?  Did that hag finally hex him and he's now roaming the streets as a hungry aardvark?  Well, allow me to assuage your fears.  The answer is no, no, and, sadly, no.

You see, Keisha and I were looking at our extended forecast, and it turned out that this past weekend was one of our last "free" weekends until our daughter arrives in June.  The rest of them are loaded with baby showers or other sordid things.  So, spontaneously, we decided to go camping down at the lovely Land Between the Lakes.  I was a bit hesitant about my six-month pregnant wife sleeping on the ground (i.e., air mattress, even though I normally shun these sorts of luxuries on such trips, I'm not a Spartan when it comes to my sweetness and her comfort), but we did it anyway.

A beautiful day Friday with gale force winds.  A glorious Saturday with sunshine and cyclones.  A humid and ridiculously warm Sunday with forgettable gusts.   Lots of fun to be had.  We spent two hours or so in an 1850s-style homestead, talking with the locals and enjoying the weather.  We drove up to where my project for work is located, checking out the highway (boring) and looking at the ditches (boring), but still, it's nice to actually see the place in person instead of on a computer monitor.

I spent a few hours in the garden on Sunday and got a healthy (hahahaha) sunburn on my pale and milky white back.  Then I had some vacation time, which was spent emptying out the baby's room for the crib and furniture to go in.  This took much of the day Monday, but we finished.  Tuesday, another vacation day, was spent mowing and staining some chairs (see pictures below).  Tuesday night proffered chili dogs, a feast no sane person can deny, and I went to bed happy, working a crossword puzzle in the bed with Keisha 'ere the lamp went dark.

Things have been busy and will continue to be busy for a while.  There's a lot to talk about, but no time to devote to blogging at hand.  Instead, I'll mention briefly:  we attended our first baby class, where Keisha learned how to breathe properly; my project, which I thought was finished last week, apparently is unfinished and still needing revisions; I'm not really enjoying the book I'm currently reading, but I'm not "not enjoying" it, either; Easter approaches, and so does my solo; a new My Morning Jacket album comes next week, I believe; baby baby baby baby baby work work revisions revisions clean clean garden baby baby dogs bills work money money money money money 2 months no paycheck bible is good book i'm in leviticus now and read about sacrifices the other morning while eating breakfast and mymind'sshotandthere'snothingleftformetowriteaboutbattlestargalacticaisstillgoodtoomuch.........................

there will be another post this week.  maybe two.  back below the surface, now.  take a breath.  (if only i learned to breathe properly at a baby class...)

Hark! Radiation! Gardens! Composting! Transitions! Jesus!?

Hearken!  If anyone has ears to hear, let him listen!  Or should it be "If anyone has eyes to see, let him see!"?  Or should it be "If anyone is literate, let him read!"?  Gah!  Forget it.

Randall Munroe of xkcd put up a fascinating chart detailing radiation dosages in different situations, compiling several different sources from the mighty interwebs.  Check it out below (or go here to view the original page).

Unless you have phenomenal eyesight, click to gigantify

Am I the only one who finds it odd that bananas contain radiation?  I mean, it makes perfect sense, considering radiation is everywhere (EVERYBODY PANIC!) and bananas are, um, there.  If you break it down, if you eat 4000000 bananas in a short period of time, you're going to get radiation poisoning.  The radiation probably wouldn't be fatal, but the freaking 4000000 bananas sure would be.  This is why I steer clear of bananas.

I'm not sure why, but I've always been fascinated by radiation disasters, like Chernobyl or Hiroshima and the likes.  It's horrifying to think that we're capable of such devastation.  I did a report in high school on J.R. Oppenheimer and have always been fascinated by his often quoted phrase (which in turned is quoted from the Bhagavad Gita): "Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds."

Can you imagine being responsible for such death and destruction?  Sure, there were plenty of other issues going on during the times, but still, nuclear power.  I, for one, have no problems with nuclear power plants.  (This coming from a civil & environmental engineer.)  Heck, I don't have a problem with bombs either, though it depresses me to no end thinking that innocent people die from their destruction.  (It depresses me that not-so-innocent people die, too.)  I don't know where I'm going with this.  I meant to write about how I thought that xkcd chart was interesting, but maybe I'm just morbid.

For lack of transition, Spring has arrived in beauty and splendor.  The weather has been in the 60s and 70s, perfectly windy, with glorious sunshine and radiance.  Our hyacinths sprouted a few days ago and are already standing tall and smelling wonderfully.  The tulips haven't yet bulbed, but they shall soon.  Sunday afternoon I spent several hours outside, working in the garden, flipping soil, etc.  After that I planted about 50 onions while Keisha planted some peppers, tomatoes, and lettuce in a mini-greenhouse for transplanting later.  She also planted some carrots in the flower garden, since we're not going to have as much greenery as we did last year.  If all goes well, we'll have a nice little harvest this year.

I've always wanted to compost, but I've never known how really.  Apparently, if I wanted any compost for use this spring/summer, then I needed to start last fall.  Still, I'm thinking I may try my hand at making some in use for any fall crops we happen to plant.

Truthfully, I'm just hoping my yard doesn't have as many weeds as it did last year.  I know very little about yard maintenance, but I know enough that weeds look like crap.

For lack of transition, we met with some pediatricians yesterday, trying to select one before our daughter arrives.  Stewart Little has been kicking up a storm lately, and I find it hard to describe how much I'm looking forward to holding my baby.  It's amazing.

For grasp of a transition, it's amazing that we get the privilege to serve and worship the God of the Universe.  I was listening to a sermon yesterday that talked about how we often like to focus on the fact that we have to give up and sacrifice things to serve God and that we often spin that as a sad story.  Truthfully, said the minister, it's an amazing, beautiful story.  We get the honor to serve and worship God when He could just as easily squash us for our sin.  How awesome is that?  Moreso, how awesome is it that He loves us despite our wickedness?  I mean, can you imagine being responsible for the death and destruction of the soul, how our sins are tiny atomic bombs dropped on our souls over and over throughout our lives, and yet Jesus loves us even though we're sick with banana poisoning?  It's honestly the most astonishing thing imaginable that God loves us.  We're being selfish and vain if we think the Creator owes us anything. 

More and more I find my thoughts turning towards God.  I hunger for His Word.  I thirst for the Spirit's presence and guidance.  I yearn to worship Jesus, so that the Father can be exalted.  I am so unworthy, and yet God has made me worthy.  I mean, I'm an idiot, yet God loves me.  Craziness.  Amen.

For lack of transition, Epic Weekend is coming.  LOTR extended version marathon.  Risk.  Nerf guns.  Nights of mayhem and sleeplessness.  Mischief and miscellany.  Disc golf.  Music.  Laughs and fellowship.  I cannot wait.

Telos, for lack of transition.

And Now A Relatively Simple Cypher

there are two marbles swimming in the milky whites of my irises, though i'm unsure how white they are at the moment.  in fact, i know for certain that one of them is polluted with a crimson spot that i cannot explain.  the marbles themselves are color-changing, green when they need to be, blue when they have to be, but otherwise some shade of fire-rimmed teal, impure with speckles of black and gold.  at any given moment these marbles are active, unconsciously working from rote.  the only break they get is when you pull down the shades and bathe them in darkness, but even then the marbles still are turned on, only now they're facing something relatively opaque.  currently, my marbles are enduring a dry spell, ravaged by an inferno of questionable origin.

is there a greater joy to life than chopping up onions and potatoes?  the chopping itself isn't the joy, but when combined with a little garlic, some salt & pepper, a splash of oil, and frying pan on a hot stove, then the joy is born.

i nicked my lip the other day when i was raking the sharp thing across my face.  the act of deforestation is a task that generates odd sensations at the bottom of my toes.  when the rain comes later, it helps cool the burning flames of hewing down thousands of tiny, tiny trees.  applying a liberal coating of tincture works wonders as well.

it's been almost a month since i last finished a novel.  life is bee-like, life is snail-like.

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sometimes my computer works on overtime.  the creative blood flows through its components, but its output lacks panache.  still, i can't help but idle at its keyboard and make something.

i've been thinking about starting another blog, one focused on the memory verses that i'm learning.  ideally, i'd post the memory verse and my thoughts about it, which would mean one post per week.  decisions.

there is a new piece of flash fiction scheduled for tomorrow.  i had a different serial i was going to do, one that's already completed, but instead i'm holding off on that one for a while.  for those of you who care.

The Meaning of It All, being chiefly an article about Love and Commitment

I can't get Jars of Clay "Love Song for a Savior" out of my head.  The refrain is so simple, but so profound, when offered to Jesus.

I want to fall in love with You
I want to fall in love with You
I want to fall in love with You
I want to fall in love with You

Really, what else could I want?  Is there any other that I'd rather fall in love with?  No, there is no one but God.

This song has me thinking back to a few memory verses ago.  Deuteronomy 10:12,13 has Moses asking the Israelites what the LORD requires of them.  He lists five things.

1. To fear the LORD
2. To walk in all His ways
3. To love Him
4. To serve Him with all their hearts and all their souls
5. To keep the commandments and statutes given to them

Do you see #3?  God requires that His people love Him.  And even though these verses are explicitly to the Israelites, they carry over to all of us that are now children of the Promise.  God still requires these five things of us if we are following Him. While there could be commentary on each of these points, I want to focus in particular on #3, especially with its relation to the Jars of Clay song.

The truth of the command--to love Him--is simple; the actuality of it is more involved.  How do we love Him?  How do we love anybody?  Can we be forced to love somebody or something?  No, our love is an intentional choice that we give away.  It is the greatest gift we have available to give.  We have the option to either love or not to love anything, from our spouses to our jobs to our children to the stranger on the corner.  We can choose to not show love, and our love is often conditional.

God's love for us, though, is unconditional, and this is a choice he intentionally made.  He could have loved us conditionally, punishing us for our sins or turning His back to us for our pride.  He would have been perfectly just in doing so, but that's not His character.  For some crazy reason, God has promised unconditional love on us, and this blows my mind.  I don't deserve His love, yet He gives to me at all times (Lamentations 3:22,23).  He renews His mercies every morning for us.  Despite the fact that we're all failures in life and we've all sinned, God still chooses to love us.

So the question is if God commands us to love Him, then why wouldn't we?  How could we not love someone who unconditionally loves us?  Why would we want to turn away from that love?  (I think it's because of ignorance or self-pride, but that's neither here nor there.)  Somehow, perhaps it's the confines of this flesh, our bodies do not want to love God but want to love the world.  This epic tragedy is the gaping problem of many Christians, as well as the lost.  There is no love in the heart for God.

If we are in love with God then we will show it.  We will proclaim our love to Him (through worship and praise and thanksgiving).  We will show off our love, like the young couple that walks hand in hand and dripping with undeniable chemistry.  We will talk about our love, to the point that it could very well sicken those around us.  But the amazing part is that we can enjoy this relationship with other people that are in love with the Creator of the Everything. 

The love of God and for God is not an exclusive love, but an open, free-for-all bottomless tank.  God loves us so much and wants a relationship with us.  He gave us His word.  He gave us the Spirit.  He gave us the blood of His Son.  He made us His children, giving us the right to speak to him (via prayer).  We have everything available to make a meaningful relationship with Him, but so many of us choose not to do it.

How is that even sane?  I don't know.  I know I have dropped the ball of the relationship innumerable times, turning from Him and pursuing my own selfish desires.  There have been people I have not shown love to, and that is painful looking back.  Still, when I look up, God's there for me, waiting with a cross-shaped hug to embrace me and dote on me.

With the starting of Lent (a liturgical season I have never practiced) I have committed myself to actively pursuing God for the next 46 days.  I will be fasting and praying and reading His word religiously (hahahaha! puns!), desperately seeking to draw nearer to the Savior who gave/gives everything to me.  I want to fall in love with Him every possible moment of my life.  There is no one else I would rather love.

Miscellaneous Miscellany

There's many things a-brewing in the wonderful world.  Morning Bell, release me, release me....

1.  There's an official release date for GRRM's long awaited, highly anticipated, vastly overdo A Dance With Dragons, the fifth volume of the magnificent Song of Ice and Fire series.  According to all the reputable bloggers that I follow (Wert, Pat, Graeme, Aidan, and John), as well as GRRM himself, the hard publication date is July 12.  The book's not quite finished, but close enough that GRRM and the publisher have confidence that it will be completed in time for printing this summer.  If it does come out (and I really hope it does), then 2011 is shaping up to be the Year for Fantasy.

2.  I think I may go watch The Adjustment Bureau tomorrow.  I love me some Matt Damon.

3.  Little babies' eyes eyes eyes........

4.  I crafted a feast fit for a medieval lord and his lady last night, following closely this recipe, but changing up a few things.  'Twas a most delicious meal, even if the serfs scratched at my legs and begged for spare crumbs.  A flagon of ale or a goblet of wine would have been pleasant, but as my lady is with child we chose water instead.

 

5.  When I am king you will be first against the wall...

6.  Let us take a moment to look at the trends of my utility bills and usage.

 

Fascinating, I daresay.  One may notice the spike of water consumption for this current 'fiscal' year, and that was after I had my yard re-seeded and had to water like a madman.  Living next to a river, I don't feel bad about this at all.  I did feel bad about the bill, though...

7.  How do we really know what we know?  What proof do we have that the green that I see is the same green that you see?  Is it?  Who's to say that there aren't subtle differences in people's eyes that have minute changes to things?  Or does cinnamon taste the same to me as someone else?  Why does one man like its flavor and another find it repulsive?  Is it mere preference?  If it's true for the sense of taste, surely this must be true for the other senses, too?  Does a pinch not hurt some more than others?  Or a slap in the face?  Or the smell of fresh hyacinths may cause one to break out into hives while the other enjoys a moment of ecstasy.  And surely the differences in music and tone are evident between people.  So again, how do we really know what we know?  Isn't what we know only relative to the individual and we make vast assumptions for the rest of the world?  Seems rather selfish to me...

7b.  Did you think twice about the last sentence above in light to its previous sentence?

7c.  Is my being clever pretentious or in good humor?

8.  Wakey wakey rise and shine it's on again off again on again...

9.   This week's memory verse is from John 1:12,13.  

"But to all who did receive Him, who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God, who are born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God."

    That's some good stuff there.  Makes me think about the ones that don't receive Him...

10.  Do not cry out or hit the alarm, you know we're friends til we die...

11.  I never tire of listening to Radiohead.  "Climbing up the Walls" may possibly be one of the best songs of all time.  It's beautiful, yet somehow sinister, and the explosion at the end leaves your heart pumping.  If you've not listened to it in a while (or never heard it), check it.  It sounds like a madman finally losing it.  (In fact, I think it's about a mental hospital or insanity or something.)

12.  We had some beautiful weather this past week here in Kentucky.  I spent it outside barefoot working on some chairs that needed stripping and sanding.  I also spent it picking up dog crap out of the back yard and weeding dead hostas from around the mailbox and absorbing sun into my heavily freckled arms.

13.  Only fifty pages or so into Wise Man's Fear, but this weekend will proffer me much desired free time.

14.  If you feel like listening to a sermon that could possibly rock your world a little, then check this out.  It deals with really loving people and overcoming pride.  I don't really consider my self proud, but wow, after this I've been thinking about how much I really love people and what I do for them.  Francis Chan is an amazing preacher of the Word, and I recommend everyone give this a listen if you've got an hour or so. 

15.  Enjoy the weekend.  Don't lick the grapes.

Cool & Uncool Stuff

One amazing trailer below.  Possibly the coolest video game trailer I have ever seen.  Even if you don't play video games you should watch this.  Beautiful, tragic, awesome.  I've never seen nothing like it in this format before.  Original article here.

Two perspectives of the same game.  Same thing as above but told in reverse.  I think I prefer the first one, but dang, they're both powerful trailers.  I may have to check this out some time.

 

Three times have I submitted short stories now, and thrice have I been rejected.

Four big events on the horizon.  I'm going to see Pat Rothfuss in Lexington on March 11, which is quite exciting.  I'm going to be going to see the Decemberists in concert April 26 in Louisville.  Super excited about this.  I'm also going to see Joe Purdy again, in Nashville, June 8.  I'm going to see my daughter by June 30.  Ultimate excitement levels for this one.

Eleven is the Chapter Borders has filed.  This has long been my favorite book chain to visit.  Now it's closing a large chunk of its stores, one of them being the one nearest me.  What a pity.

Seven rings were there for the Dwarf lords in their halls of stone.  Apparently there was a Lord of the Rings re-telling from Mordor's perspective written in 1999 to somewhat high praise.  Originally published in Russian, it's just now making its way into English.  You can download the novel as a PDF for free from here, the apparent translator.  You can read the article here if you're curious.  I think I may give it a go, just not sure when I'll find time.

Eight tracks on the new Radiohead album, The King of Limbs.  Out of nowhere the band announces their new album is available for order (here) and as an immediate download today (a day earlier than previously mentioned), though the actual release date for physical material is still a few months away...  I've never been disappointed in a Radiohead album, so this'll likely grow to be fantastic.  I've only listened to it once through, but as a first impression, sounds like Radiohead.

Five endings for this post.  So long.  Adios.  Farewell.  Goodnight.  Later on.

End Note: In case anyone inferred from yesterday's post that I am an awesome, super Christian, let me assure you that I in no way meant to imply that.  Like Paul, I consider myself the worst of sinners and nowhere near the level I need to be.  SO, in short, that post was written as much for me as for anyone else.

Remembering Louisville

Saturday afforded me the chance to return to my college town.  Keisha had a Pampered Chef conference downtown and she had to be there early.  I offered to drive, and together we hit the road before 5am, crossing the CST/EST time zone and journeying into the future.  I dropped her off at the site, walked her to the door, and spent the rest of the day largely alone.

I say alone.  Perhaps I should use a different word, as I wasn't alone, per se, but I was in no one's immediate company, either.  Truly, in a city as populated as Louisville, being alone is probably a thing more of the mind.  Anyway, I spent the morning in my favorite coffee shop, Sunergos.  I enjoyed going there and studying, listening to the mellow tunes and breathing the pleasing aroma of coffee.  So I ordered me a plain coffee and sat at a table and read for four hours.  I started with a little bible study, and after that I read a massive chunk of the unpublished manuscript I'm reviewing.  All I can say is that it's a piece of solid writing with a very interesting magical system and some fascinating world history.  I wish the author the best at getting it published.

As lunch time neared, I packed up my stuff and headed off to my favorite deli, Franks.  It's hard to describe how perfect, how amazing Frank's is.  Their cold-cut sandwiches are cheap and unbeatable in taste.  I got a roast beef and colby with lettuce on wheat for $3.  That may seem high, but the claim to fame for Frank's is that there's enough meat and filling on the sandwiches that it's hard to finish.  I've ordered sandwiches from there before and taken off enough meat to fix me another lunch from the excess.  This sandwich was a good 4.5-5.5" thick, if not more, and it was very filling.

After I had my lunch I drove to campus and parked behind the engineering buildings.  Saturday was nice and sunny, not too cool, so I walked from the parking lot over to the library, taking my time and remembering campus.  A lot's changed since I graduated.  It's been two years since I sat foot on UofL's grounds, but it was still very much the same campus.  My afternoon at the library went a lot like the morning.  I ate and read, a little from the STAR WARS book, but mostly from the manuscript.

This doesn't sound terribly exciting, spending a day cooped up inside reading, but I have to say, I quite enjoyed myself.  The joy ended when Keisha and I decided to drive to the mall.  The mall of St. Matthews is a somewhat special place to us.  You see, I proposed to my wife at this mall.  I didn't plan to propose at this mall, but it just kinda happened.

I planned to propose beneath the fireworks and heavenly spectacle of Thunder Over Louisville.  I planned to take her to the river and get down on one knee.  Instead, that darned ring in my pocket kept whispering things to me, making vain promises and offering visions of grandeur.  We were at the mall, sitting outside the JC Pennys beneath a copse of indoor trees and beside a mediocre fountain.  Things get a little blurry, but I vaguely remember kneeling and mumbling and talking and saying a bunch of stuff about love and that stuff and pulling out a ring and people looking at us and her face and...  Yeah.  I hadn't planned on proposing there, but it just happened.  The Precious willed it so...

I don't know why, but the city's entire population was converged at or near the St. Matthews mall.  We idled in traffic for a long time before finally getting to the mall, and then we idled more as we waited forever to find a parking spot.  Red Robbin (yum) was good for dinner, but after that we were ready to get the heck out of the city.

It's a shame.  There are so many wonderful things about Louisville that I love and miss.  However, there's plenty there to keep me far away, too, like the radiation.  I guess now that the meteor's fallen and decimated the town I'll never get to go back again.  Too bad, too.  I wonder if my alma mater will rise above the wastes and request donations to help rebuild?  Did the coffee shop survive?  News reports say that there weren't many survivors, and those that did have some kind of weird glow about them now and they're all quarantined in some secret location.  I guess it's good that we got out of the city before it happened, eh?

Happy Valentine's day!

Updates! Baby, Life, Movies, Games, Etc.

Chiefly being that we found out yesterday the sex of our baby, plus some ultrasound pictures, and other stuff.
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1.  Stewart Little, as we've affectionately been calling the fetus, is now sexed, or at least is now sexed to us.  Keisha and I are proud to say that we're having a GIRL.  So it's gonna be me, Keisha, Stewart Little, Stella, and Sofie.  I say I'm vastly outnumbered here...

Aren't those images crazy?  Watching the little bugger squirm and kick and move and punch and everything yesterday was quite surreal, and it's amazing to know that I helped make her.  See the little feet!  The face still looks alien and skeletal, but I'm smitten.  It was funny how hyper and active she was, too, but everything looked great and healthy, and we thank God for that.

2.  We ordered our crib, changing table, and dresser last night from JC Penny.  I applied for a credit card to save an additional 10% off, was approved, and then found out my limit was $50 less than what the total cost was.  So I called Penny's and requested an immediate credit increase of $100 and got that taken care of.  Then I went to finish the purchase and was asked to enter my credit card info, which I didn't have as I had no card yet, so I made another phone call.  Everything was going well until my phone died about 20 minutes into the call, so I had to call back and repeat the entire process.   All said and done, I spent about 45 minutes on the phone working it all out, but in the end we got our stuff ordered and now we're waiting for the backorder to fill and ship.

3.  My paycheck is currently 19 days late, which is to say that I'm technically due two checks, as another is now 5 days late.  This is confusing, as my firm was awarded a 10+ million dollar contract recently (though obviously we've seen no money from this yet, as the project is in its early infancy).  I simply ask for your prayers in all this stuff, knowing God will provide and take care, but it's quite stressful, too.

4.  My brother returned from Afghanistan over the weekend, and I got to see him on Saturday.  We spent an hour or so sitting around and just talking, and it was great.  I'm very thankful God watched over him and kept him safe.  His unit encountered Taliban forces 41 times, and he was part of about 35 of those encounters, so God definitely saw to him.

5.  My reading life is hectic.  I'm listening to an audio book at work (Terry Brooks' Bearers of the Black Staff), and nearly finished.  I'm finally reading a STAR WARS book that I've been waitlisted on for a while.  I also checked out Joe Abercrombie's The Heroes (so many great reviews already) yesterday, which was purchased by my request to the library.  I really want to start this soon, as I won't be able to renew it, since its waitlist is already growing.  And then I'm reading an unpublished manuscript for someone, which has been quite enjoyable so far, and I'm about halfway through that.  And then there's the smattering of graphic novels and comics I need to read and return.  (Oh, and let's not even consider the time I'm spending playing Dead Space 2.)  All of this on my plate and knowing Pat Rothfuss' The Wise Man's Fear will be shipped to my house come early March.  So much to read...

6.  As for Dead Space 2, it's been phenomenal.  It's captured all of the terror and features of gameplay the first one had and upped the graphics and added better controls.  The plot has been crazy; the necromorphs plentiful; the fear tense.  I've only got a chapter or two left before I beat the game, and I've really enjoyed this play through.

7.  We watched two James Bond films over the weekend: Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace.  Neither Keisha nor myself have seen much (or any) of Bond, but we both liked these movies.  Daniel Craig does great, and I'm looking forward to diving into more Bond, especially adding the older ones onto my Netflix queue.

8.  So much going on in life right now that there's no way I could cover it all.  At times I'm stressed.  Other times I'm amazed.  Sometimes I'm sickened and dismayed.  Through it all I look to Jesus and try to live like Him.  I fail, I know, but I try.

Coffee, a Puzzle, and An Unexpected Rant

It all starts with coffee.  Fresh ground coffee.  The kind of stuff that wants to be imbibed immediately.  Usually it is, paired with some 1% milk to give it a boost of flavor and distinction.  The rest is hermetically sealed in my less-than-good stainless steel thermos and carted off to work, where I'm forced to quickly down two or three more cups if I want anything resembling hot coffee.  Typically the first cup is fine.  Enjoyable.  Savored.  I'm doing good and the world is going well.  Then I pour the second cup.  My mouth is not ready for more brew, nor are my stomach and bladder, but they're gonna take it whether they like it or not.  I wind up regretting this choice almost every time.  Halfway through the cup I'm sick of coffee.  I'm sick of how it tastes and how it makes me feel.  I'm sick of the bitterness left on my tongue and the yearning for the bathroom.  I usually just throw the dregs down in one quick shot, wincing and convulsing--literally shuddering sometimes.  And then it's over.

I find myself wondering why.  Probably because I paid for the stuff and I'm danged well gonna get my money out of it.  But really, is physical and emotional anguish worth the few paltry dollars spent on coffee beans?  I don't know.  Perhaps I should invest in a new thermos, one that will keep stuff hotter for longer than one hour.  Then I would have all day to enjoy the rich tasting aroma that makes coffee a favorable drink.  Until then, I'll stick with my failed thermos.*

For any wordsmiths out there, yesterday's puzzle (from my daily puzzle calendar**) was quite challenging.  I'll repeat it here below.

None of the answers below contain an A, E, I, N, T, or S - six of the most commonly used letters in English.  Answers 1 to 5 are nine letters long; answer 6 is eleven letters and is the longest common word that lacks any of the six letters mentioned above.

1. Groundhog
2. Never-failing, as a method
3. Machinery that runs as a timepiece
4. Study of Earth's water
5. Nonsense; hogwash
6. Green pigment in photosynthesis

Good luck.  I was particularly happy with #4 since I took a lot of classes in this during my college years, and my job is heavily involved in it.  This calendar has been pretty fun and occasionally challenging. 

So Sunday is the Super Bowl.  This is the first year I've actually ever sat down and watched football intentionally, and I have to say, I'm looking forward to the game.  Granted the team I was rooting for (Colts!) didn't make it, but still, I'll be interested to just watch and experience the Big Game.  Service has been moved for the Youth to someone's house and I've been asked to help lead a little worship service at the start of the festivities.  A year ago I would've said no, no way, find somebody else, heck no, no, No.  But I simply said sure, no problem this year.

I'm astonished at how far I've come.  And lest anyone think I'm boasting, it's all for the glory of Jesus Christ, that God will be exalted and worshiped.  Without His help I would be nothing.  I see my guitar playing and my singing as gifts that God has blessed me with, and while I think I play and sing merely mediocre, I now no longer care.  I do it not to be heard or seen, but that the Spirit can move and lift up the name of Jesus and that the Youth will grow in their faith and will have no fears when serving God.  After all, a follower of Christ living in fear is only defeated by themselves. 

I used to say no because I was scared and timid.  Stepping up was uncomfortable and God had other people that could do the work.  But the more I read the Bible (especially Matthew), the more I realized that Jesus called us to be uncomfortable, to be in awkward situations.  It takes faith to step out into awkwardness, an attitude of the heart that says God, I trust in You that You know what You're doing.  And in that faithfulness, whether we see any fruit of our labors or not, His will is working.  It is this that has led me to stepping out and stepping up.  Too many "Christians" are sitting comfortably in their traditions, in their pews, in their hearts, that they've grown lazy and stagnant in their faith.  As the adage says, "If you're not moving forward, you're going backwards."  That's very true with God.  He hates lukewarm; He spews it from His mouth.

This same sentiment extends well outside the doors of Christianity.  If you're going to commit to something, commit, don't just sign up and stay uninvolved.  Who wants a benchwarmer on their team?  Or an occasional paladin?  No one.  I suppose it's our fallen human nature that wants to stay complacent and lazy, but this must be bypassed in order to live a life worth living.  It's easy to come home and plop down in front of the tv or pick up a book.  Get involved in your own world.  Ignore the rest.  That selfish attitude is simple.  Everybody's good at that.  But that's not living life.

It takes work, uncomfortableness, awkwardness, and effort to truly live.  How does a family grow if you give it no time?  Or how does a community grow, or any other relationship?  Relationships are a fundamental part of a functioning, meaningful, committed life, be it with friends, family, church members, or strangers on the street.  And the only way to grow relationships is by getting up and stepping out.  It's like in KOTOR 2: "Apathy is death."

.......I don't know what happened.  I was going one way and I ended up with a rant.  Sorry.  So, uh, happy Thursday?  I've got a new flash fic piece for tomorrow that I'm really proud of.  Hope you read it and enjoy it. After I read it to Keisha she said "you are one twisted person."  That's the kind of response I like.

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*The thermos used to work, but due to my negligence (i.e., it not being dishwasher safe), I ruined the rubber seal, so the thermos seeps out heat.  Something something thermodynamics...

**This comes from THE MENSA PUZZLE CALENDAR 2011.  Not sure who came up with the riddle or I'd give them credit.  The box the calendar came in says by Mark Danna and Fraser Simpson, so I'll give them credit.

The Meeting is a Metaphor

Yesterday I had a meeting in Paducah, a city two hours west of where I live.  It was a final review meeting, pretty much like the one I went to back in the Fall of 2009.  Basically our project plans have been submitted for a while and have been reviewed and looked over by the State folks.  We then show up, sit down, and begin dissecting the work, page by page.  Each page is reviewed for inconsistencies, errors, changes.  Is the Right of Way going to have to be moved here?  Is that 18" pipe going to be able to handle the discharge here?  This kind of stuff.

While I definitely had more confidence in myself and my work this time around, I still feel very new to the business.  I've technically had my job since May 2009, and I've learned a lot during that time.  But, sitting in a room full of people much more experienced than myself is quasi-nerve racking.  For one, I'm still new to a lot of the jargon.  For two, I still think of myself as new.  I mean the project I've worked on since my hire date actually began in 1997, so I've stepped in at the tail end of things and have scrambled to make sense where I can.

Nevertheless, the meeting went well.  I learned some stuff.  I jotted down a pageful of notes of things I need to change and things I still need to do.  I'm behind, drowning in a pool of things to do, but I'd rather be that way than splashing in the kiddie side.  To me, having options that are somewhat pressed for time (~2 months) is easier on my mind than an uncertain timeline with uncertain responsibilities.

And then I woke up and realized that the meeting wasn't just a meeting.  No, it was something much larger, something so unavoidable that it was impossible to, uh, avoid.  Like Neo waking up in The Matrix I saw that life itself is one big meeting.  We're all in a room with the bigwigs, being judged and guided.  Sometimes the jury's kindhearted.  Sometimes they're cruel and selfish.  Either way, a jury exists to judge, and we're all judged by our peers.  We're all thrown to the wolves, but only after we've been drenched in blood and covered in wool.  We're all wolves, devouring one another, lapping up the sick after we've had our fill.  The earth groans beneath our selfishness as the heart groans within.  We hurt.  We grieve.  We try our best to prepare for the meeting and yet somehow we always come up short. 

I take comfort in knowing that Jesus suffered and was hated.  He told His disciples that they would be persecuted for following Him and for living like Him.  He told them that if He was hated, then so, too, would be His followers.  I take comfort in this.  It's not easy knowing that the world hates me, that the world wants to see me fall, that there's someone waiting as a wolf to tear me apart all for the sake of their own selfish desires.  The way I figure, I must be on the right track to suffer, to be persecuted, to be gobbled up and stomped upon by the world.  I count it all joy when I fall into trials.  I'll gladly stand up for what's right and take the gut punch.

And then I wake up and realize that the meeting is something more, something dark and twisted, something human, something else...  I step from the shadows bound in a straightjacket, hallucinating and fleeing for my life.  All around me are horrors too dark to describe; you'd think me mad if I tried.  I run, slipping on blood, through the bodies lining the walls towards the open door just down the hall.  There, freedom, just up ahead...  And the thing appears, leaping from the darkness and screaming in rage born in the pits of Hell.  We seem to stare at each other for only a second, but by then more have appeared, circling around me, jaws snapping, sharpened limbs gleaming in the soft glow of artificial lights.  They close in and I feel the first pains of punctured flesh.  Like a bag of sugar with holes in it, I open up and spill out.

And then I woke up and began to doubt, began to question, began to wonder how much was too much, how far was too far?  Who cared?  All was vanity!  All was senseless wanderings through the vast emptiness of space, through desires of longing for more and inhibitions begging for less, through misunderstandings and broken communication, through a world full of wicked sinners and dirty saints.  What can be done to atone?  What can fix the wrongs?  Who will teach me the error of my ways and show me what I can do?  Who will read these words and judge, misinterpret, and make assumptions?  Who will find the truth in them and discern the fiction?  The cynic wants to say the world will happily pick up their stones and toss them, burying me and my wife beneath a pile of broken rocks, our bones fitting in nicely with the white color of the stones.  I seek to understand the impossible, to change the inevitable, to fix the problems, to comprehend the mysteries, but I can do none of them.  It's beyond me, and in this I must try to take comfort.  The meeting has happened, is happening now, and will continue to go on until the end of time.