:)

EDIT: I think some of the comments aren't showing up...post again, if ye be so inclined. :EDIT

Cheating again. No, not really, I'm just posting this on Xanga, too, because I want more than five people to read it. Also I felt a twinge of guilt, for my blogspot of late has been the site of sub-par postage. And if you are among the privileged few who read both my blog and my xanga, comment here, if you have anything to say.

I smile a secret smile.
Nobody in the blog world knows the immensely wonderful, substantial things that God has been doing in my innards. And nobody CAN know.
I have been trying to post this in my head for almost a week now, and I realize--I can't. I cannot describe or explain the deep-down peace that is sitting in my gut. I cannot tell you how much I love Him, and how and what and why. It is frustrating, on one level, for I do want so badly to be able to share this contented insatiable hunger. I wish I could articulate it. I want to have the ability to write a song about it. Or a poem. Heck, even a decent essay. But I am not capable of penning such a verse. I am too feeble. I can't even talk about it. No sooner do I begin than does a goofy smile conquer my face and my mind goes deliciously blank and only garbled gibberish comes out: "So...yeah...Jesus is so amazing...He, like, loves me, and...stuff...yeah...it's pretty sweet..." Frustrating.
But on another level, I am happy. Part of me is glad to be able to just keep this inside, keep it to take out every day and ponder, and explore, and think about, and rejoice in. Because there is so much. The vastness of His work in me contributes to my inability to communicate on the topic. It's too big for me to grasp in casual conversation. It's too precious to try to grasp in casual conversation. I don't really want to demean it to casual conversation. So what's with the dearth of meaningful conversation around here, people?
Anyway. I love being able to hold on to Him. I love dwelling in His peace.
I love the absence of fear. I love that He isn't just working on me anymore, He's working through me.
I
Love
Him.
And so I smile.

Trolley Wood

I am going to cheat. I am going to post this same thing on my xanga.

Try and stop me. Suckers.
You should listen to this song.

Out one day
walking one day
out one day with you hallelujah
--Eisley, "Trolley Wood"

Okay, here's the deal. God did a big thing for me on Wednesday, and I was thinking about it, and somehow those three lines encapsulated the entire thing perfectly. Unfortunately I and God are the only two who will understand why and how those lines encompass all I felt on Wednesday, but I'm really okay with that.
So in summary this was not a useless, devoid-of-inspiration post. This was, in fact, a post so brimming with inspiration that nobody noticed.

Is it hypocrisy to be able to function normally around people, walking to and from class, tossing quick "how-was-your-break-yeah-mine-was-great-too's" at passersby; and then go to your room, shut the door, and be dry as dust?

I am happy about this cool, moist, good-smelling weather. I am happy with the haze of green tipping the grass all over campus. I am happy with the lavender flowers on the stunted trees. I am happy to see everyone again.
But these happinesses are not reaching a certain part of me. A part that is feeling skeletal and rheumatic. Soul arthritis is independent of age, and I'm feeling it.
Feelings, feelings, feelings. Ugh. I'm sick of it.

Sorry, dear readers. All (optimistically) five of you. Soon I shall break out of this funk. Yes.

Mirror

I am tired, confused, frustrated, sleep-deprived, annoyed, angry with myself, hopeless, desperate, whiny, intolerant, intolerable, abrasive, obnoxious, weak, pedantic, indecisive, cowardly, prideful, insufferable, spineless, and cold.

I kind of want to shoot myself in the face right now. Metaphorically speaking.
I want to hide in my room under my covers and not come out to grin and tease and pretend. I want to disappear. I want to stop everything.
Nothing's wrong. Nothing is right.


So, pain...

Discovery

Do yourself a favor:
Listen to or find the lyrics to Relient K's "Pressing On."
And then sing it as a show tune.
Oughta make you chuckle.
I thought it was friggin hilarious.