Skip to main content


Showing posts from September 9, 2012
Safe Haven, Empty House Edition: No one is here. My mom is on her way to Colorado, my brother and his wife are having a weekend get-away (this being one word now is a hideous abuse of our glorious language) and here I am. The dog's even at a hotel. I don't think the cat needs me. So if I can get this other test done, I can finish the Paper From Gehenna by Friday. It's not long. But sometimes, writing gets tedious and difficult, or at least the kind that's not for fun. I feel like Dr. Mark Hall, who's been nailed by animal tranquilizers as he crawls through the central core of Wildfire, stumbling to prevent a nuclear detonation. [How many times have you read that book?--ed.] A lot. Too much. But it's a classic, especially for short fiction. There are times when your feelings surprise you. I was writing a message yesterday, not emotional in itself, and I couldn't stop the water from flowing out of me. It was terrible. I would have gotten sobby watching Hol
Election Update: The Obama lead is a lie. The average of the polls compiled by our friends at Real Clear Politics showing a national lead of roughly 3 points for the president is based on unrealistically favorable polls from Democratic-leaning firms AND job approval ratings of all adults and registered voters, not likely voters. Among those firms that only sample likely voters when asking about head-to-head and job approval Romney is ahead or tied. A sitting president will show a job approval above 49% among LIKELY voters if he is going to win, starting in late September. I can believe that President Obama leads in Colorado, Wisconsin, and Michigan; I DO NOT believe he actually leads in Ohio and Florida. Bush (2004) had a poll average lead of 6% at this point; it narrowed on Election Day, but a two-term president needs a lead; it shows the power of incumbency. An incumbent with a lead this small is going down hard. I'm willing to retire from predicting elections if I'm wrong. R
Christian anthropology is hard. Or at least tests are hard. I was verbally answering the questions for a test I was taking, and there could be that moment where you realize, "Oh, wait. I have no idea what I'm talking about." I had to go goof off before I injured myself or others out of spite. It's a take-home, spoken into a recorder, so no harm, no foul. Deb was over last night, teaching me about singing. Why am I doing this, you ask? Because I love to sing, and I want to be better. Do I need another reason? I think I have more range than I showed last night, but we'll see. Given my experience wooing girls and in karaoke bars, I think I have at least a little bit to work with. [You can't forget about all that singing you've done in the Jetta of Decision.--ed.] Oh, yeah. Poor Confirmation Sponsor Guy; he probably still hasn't recovered. All I can say is that I didn't sing at all until I got baptized. I can remember this. I was afraid to do it,
I made a fairly new friend, Deborah Lee, over the past year or so. She's a slightly younger, more Southern version of my mom, maybe. She's a musician/songwriter, so we get along well. Because I'm not trained in music, but I live in a very musical world. She's gonna come tomorrow and help me improve my singing. JK is pumped! Deb was Reformed like me. Seminary trained as I was, she graduated from the same place I went. And now, she's Catholic. My way there was a little more linear, perhaps a shade more intellectual, but we live in the same relentlessly creative space. I didn't realize I was one of those people. I didn't see it. I honestly thought everyone wrote poems and songs in the middle of the night. I'd never say they were good. And there's no law saying you can't grind out such things on a schedule. But if you live in a universe where that fancy could strike any time, and that seems normal to you, you're an artist. You're a hippie.
I'm gonna boast a bit here. Because I wasted a lot of time being inward-focused/bitter for no good reason. On the one hand, I'm single, 32, and I've hated (nearly) every second of it. On the other hand, once you make the decision, as far as you are able, not to take anything that isn't yours (and let's cut the crap, that's what lust is, gentlemen) a funny thing happens: beautiful women start hanging around. Paradoxically, you care less than you did. Lust makes you angry and possessive; godly love in charity leads you in giving of yourself without caring if you get anything back. Don't get me wrong: I've been hit by the Love Lightning several times, including very recently. And you can be godly and prayerful, patient and gentle, and she still seems like a drug you'll never kick. It sucks. But you know what? If you love truly, you can keep your honor and her respect no matter what she decides to do. That's what I figured out: My honor is more i
Well, cover me in pine needles and set me on fire. I am impatient. Impatient for love, money, success. Impatient with friends, quasi-friends, animals, the weather, Mitt Romney. In fact, I'd be the first one to volunteer for Hell, but that shouldn't be anyone's idea of a good time. Besides, then you could add pride to my impatience. The funny part is, you'd automatically figure the Blessed Mother would have an infinite reservoir of patience. On the other hand, has there been a human who needed it any less? It could not have been hard to raise Jesus. I'll bet the arguments in the Holy Family were comically brief. St. Joseph already knows women are always right...but this time, it's totally true. I'm impatient for peace, too. World peace, and peace closer to home. There is nothing like a smile to quiet a twitchy heart. Be the change, people! You never know how close someone is to mailing it in, or worse. In the past 10 minutes, I have complimented Herbert H