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Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Thursday, February 07, 2008

  • Blarg... (4:25 am)

    I hate nights when I think too much to sleep.  I try to form my half of conversations I hope to have sometime in the future, but probably never will.  I get weepy and giggly by turns and all over random thoughts about the day.  I try to tell myself stories to help me get to sleep.  I imagine all sorts of odd pictures, some incredibly frightening and/or disturbing.  If all else fails, I give up and poke around on my computer until I crash.  Of course, by then it's around 6 or 7 and I have to get moving just when I'm finally able to sit still.

    Really

    really

    really

    annoying...

    Hey look!  I'm sleep typing!

     

    Question that's currently keeping me up thinking about it:

    Why do I keep on talking and hoping for a thoughtful response, when it keeps being more and more evident that no one is actually listening?

    *Stares off into space for a few minutes, then slowly droops down and passes out at the desk* 

Thursday, January 31, 2008

  • Blank Pages

    Once upon a time, there was a girl who was very, very bored.  To fight the boredom, she sat at her computer and tried to write.  The girl stared gloomily at the white space on the monitor that was her word processing program.  It was an empty desert of pixels, just waiting for her fingers to hit the keyboard and drag words from her imagination into existence.  The task was difficult. 

    The girl closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly.  In her minds eye, she saw herself standing on the great white expanse.  She wore a flowing robe, pure white like the space around her.  Looking down at her bare feet, she let the ever-present breeze blow past her.  She stood motionless for a few heartbeats, then slowly and haltingly at first, she began to dance.

    At first, her steps were faulty and wavering.  She tripped and fell and had to go back and begin over again a few times before she picked up the rhythm of the dance.  Once she finally got it though, her steps became precise and graceful.  The girl leapt and spun across the wide expanse and with every step, she left something behind.  With every footfall, a small black mark appeared on the ground. 

    The number and intricacy of the black marks grew and grew as the dance picked up tempo.  They almost almost seemed to be swirling and dancing themselves.  No, not almost, they were dancing!  The marks peeled up from the ground and swirled around the dancing girl.  They moved like leaves in the swirling wind, cavorting in wild circles all around and over the girl.  As the black marks swirled, they began to pulsate and glow with a rainbow of light.

    The lights spun faster and faster.  The girl also danced faster and harder, her hair and robe swirling around her.  The lights blurred together until the individual marks could no longer be distinguished.  Then the lights spun off and shot out in all directions. Bright lines of color flowed over the vast white plain.  They swirled over and then into the ground.  

    The white ground began to ripple and move where the light touched it.  The stark, empty, formless landscape was changing rapidly.  A stream sprung up, it started as a weak trickle but it quickly grew into a river.  Soft, springy grass sprang up, followed by flowers, then bushes, then trees.  In the distance, the ripples grew into mountains.  Bright blue light flowed across the sky as if it was being spread by an enormous paint brush. All the while, the girl continued to dance, her eyes closed and her feet barely touching the ground.

    Her dance continued, but now it became slower and slower.  The steps remained careful and sure, but the tempo calmed bit by bit.  The girl moved across the grassy space slowly and effortlessly.  She slowed and finally came to a stop, standing with her head down and breathing slowly in and out exactly the way she had started.  The wind blew softly and gently tossed her hair around her face.  She smiled and finally looked up and opened her eyes to look at the world she'd danced into existence.

    The girl saw the keyboard under her quickly moving fingers as she typed the final few words.  After tapping out the last few keystrokes, she glanced up to the glowing monitor screen.  The empty white expanse was now filled with little black marks.  A story had been drawn into existence by the girl's dancing fingertips.

Monday, January 28, 2008

  • Thoughts

    Just a bunch of random things I've been thinking on lately.

     

    It is easy to shun or ignore people you dislike.  It is really hard to speak civily to people you dislike.  It is also rather dificult to hate someone while you pray for them (for them and notabout them or at them.  "please make this person stop being an idiot" type prayers don't work for this).

     

    It is easy to feel sorry for yourself if you are the only person you think about.  It is much harder to feel sorry for yourself while you pray for others.

     

    It is easy to feel helpess and scared and just give up if you try to live life on your own.  It is hard to pray when you feel like it isn't making a difference.  It is easy to pray when you feel good, but it is also easy to forget to pray when things are going well.

     

    Conclusion, praying all the time is a very good habit to have.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

  • Returning to an old addiction

    I miss writing here.  I think I'm going to start again.  At the very least I'm going to rescue my scribbles from the depths.

    Facebook just lacks some of the charm of this.  It's just one obnoxious application after another, and people don't usually have much to say there.

    Oh well, I'll probably just hunt through my old things, dig up the good bits and leave again.  Seeing my Freshman self will be interesting.

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