Amalgamated Assumptions

Over the last few months I've had hour after hour to just relax and read, sit and think, process and pull-apart the multiple lingering thoughts that have been driving me in and out of insanity for quite some time. I think what happens is as life progresses and our responsibilities, commitments, and needs fill up our minds and hearts those things often deemed as less important get swept under the rug and left for dead; but they don't leave. So, this summer could have been titled best as, "Cleaning out the closet..."

This cleaning process is both spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. Spiritually I was forced lovingly by God to give up some of my preconceived notions of what my future was going to look like. Mentally I had to sovereignly surrender my desire to be right and learned how swallow my pride. Emotionally I just had to allow some desperately needed restoration of character and had the recent-deep wounds of confusion dressed and healed.

In my past I've had the blessed opportunity to experience what a true and bona fide relationship is like. I am not saying that I'm a relational Dr. Phil or some kind of Mr. Smoov and knows what it takes, I'm just saying I've seen it work, and when it works, its great. It's the non-working that has me seemingly displeased and my mind utterly-awry.


I have vividly observed over the course of the last few years my endeavors in and out of potential relationships. I don't necessarily see anything that is cancerous or ill-causing when it comes to my methodology or practices in moving forward past friendship into something deeper. However, I am a bit introspective at times and have a raw desire to know if it's me that's making this normative transition so dreadfully impossible. Where along the path to finding that 'someone' did I get so ridiculously sidetracked? The desire to flux through the norm and be with somebody has definitely and wholeheartedly caused me some sleep deprivation and mental frustration.

Since stepping foot on the grounds of Eugene Bible College some three and a half years ago I've prided myself on being single and loving it. But, after such a relational drought I've felt an immense pressure to want somebody. I think I'm like any guy, I look, I see, I like, I follow. Duh. Although I haven't really pursued vigorously any of the plethora of awesome girls at my school, I have definitely had my attention caught by a few of em' and thought discretely, "what if?"

The problem doesn't lie within the issue of "what if?" but more so with the fact that I haven't even attempted anything more. I sit here quietly and cowardly on my computer peering over my shoulders here and there to be sure no one's watching me, writing about my infantile infatuations. Believing I'm bold while obviously showing a minimal amount of testicular fortitude in the area of pursuing anything more than a Venti Iced Americano; truly.


So, I want to trek to the next level but I've been sickly-slothful in my persistence of potential, lackadaisical towards love, and casual about chemistry. I have crossed paths with some of the most beautiful, intelligent, and God loving women to have ever scooted through the halls of this college. I have grown personally, and grown to love quite of few of them for their depth and ability to be raw and transparent when it was unconditionally necessary. I have nothing but great things to say about those girls so this isn't the time in the story where I point the finger, deject the blame, or anything of that sort. This would be more like the part in the story where the guy goes outside in a rain storm and pounds his fists in the mud for an hour, all the while cheesy 80's music beams loudly through the theater and girlfriends grasp tightly onto their letterman-jacket wearing boyfriends arms. sad. i know.

I attempt often to excuse myself from the necessity of social interaction, a seemingly-misunderestimated (*great word*) way of dealing with hurt and pain and lack of relational gain. I could just move on and act as if nothing has occurred, spur forward through my future with this semi-helpless pallid expression on my face, as if I missed the ice cream truck twice in one day; horrid. I know that as people read this they are scrolling with one finger and dialing 911 with the others to warn the local authorities that a mad-man is on the loose. Some ridiculously relational radical has yet again come to the sad realization that his once assumed inevitable eternal-singleness was not only a correct assumption, but a painfully true futuristic assessment. However, I ask that you hope and wait, pray and think, give me an opportunity to shed some redemptive light on this tar black synopsis that you just heard.

When the ants retreat back to their dirt mound in the ground and the dust of a hectic day has cleared out all is still. The slow moving clouds scoot quietly by in the night sky and a faint but indistinguishable noise is heard in the distance. The calamity is halted and the serenity sails through the air, the calm after the storm, rest is restored. To trust God that his provisional abilities are sufficient for my past, present, and future isn't a mere creed or verbalized proclamation of belief; it's so much more. The Helper, the Spirit within us is the guide to every aspect of our lives. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, the Word was God." To step back and see that in the beginning God gave us an incredible tool of righteousness, a manual of faithfulness, a guide for godliness. Yet, when my life is in what I would simply title, "Wretched-Confusion" God is still faithful, His Word is still true, His plans for my life, whether single or married, are still good. I cannot express enough the true and genuine peace that comes with trusting in something bigger than yourself. To give up the selfish desire to run and manage our own life is not a sign of weakness, it doesn't make us any less manly or competent, it is logical yet sacrificial; stability.



It is what it is, I don't have anything else to say about this...

tis' the season

I don't want to necessarily give this blog the title of, 'summer recap' because I don't have the time or the patience to put together such a piece of literary genius that would do justice as a summary of the summer i just endured.


So, tis' the season to be the recipient of a viciously painful near 1st degree sunburn (c'mon, that still hurts!) and a mind-numbing heat stroke. Tis' the season to fall in and out of infatuation, mainly out, and recover in time to functional as a normative-piece-of-society when schools starts. Tis' the season to stay up til' 1 and sleep til' 1. Tis' the season.

I wouldn't really consider the summer a 'vacation' because most of us have to work jobs we wouldn't normally work, and melt away our days at a boat-launch pumping gas or at Burger King reminding those customers, "You can have it your way." Neither are necessarily horrific or debilitating but they both offer a painfully vivid reminder that we as college students still lack the necessary skills and abilities to be an acceptable piece of the societal puzzle.

The first few weeks of summer was spent deciding where and what to do with these three-months of empty calender space. So many options, so much time, so little money. "I could go on a nation-wide road trip!" I thought to myself. "I could visit friends in Germany!" I realized. But, in the end the most notable factor was that I have a broken spine and an empty checkbook; both disqualifying factors for a potential summer of enjoyment.

I ended up working off and on for my school as a receptionist; yes, I was a receptionist. I was also able to pick up some cash for various odd jobs throughout the summer thus providing me with a plethora of pork 'n' beans and what seemed like a life supply of chili. I've never experienced such culinary creativity in my life, apparently after two-straight months of those two items as main-course-meals I found incredibly unique ways of making what I had, eatable and enjoyable.

Outside of journaling and blogging until my hands bled I also had the awesome chance to learn the major and minor pentatonic scales on my ol' guitar. This actually sparked an old interest and passion and has completely rejuvenated my desire to play. I'm realizing as time progresses that the music is not only therapeutic but brings a sense of calmness in calamity. I haven't yet found a better combination than a cup of french pressed Arabian Mocha Sunani, my guitar, and my moleskin. So far, its the best.

Well, that's enough for one day. I already feel bored just sitting here.

Here is a poem to illuminate the elements of my summer into some form of creative writing:

Fifa 07 on the xbox,
Germany can't be stopped.
Late nights and corn dogs,
coffee shops and obnoxious blogs.
Automobile's consistently ill-functioning,
cell phone bills ridiculously sickening.
Coastal cruises and p-town excursions,
starbucks a weakness my bank accounts hurting.
Free-time unending and sleep schedule broken,
the trials i've endured should earn me a token.
The resounding sound of school bells loudly ringing,
has the voice in my head screaming, "Get out know! What the hell are you thinking!"
Doubt, fear, and awkward at times,
thoughts of escaping here filled up my mind.
festive lights and candles galore,
filled up my room from the ceiling to the floor.
I'm ending this poem because only to me will it make sense,
but I figured at least I'd give ya' my 2 cents.

Call Goethe. He's got some competition.

haha.

Late.