Raisins are delicious.
I love them.
I'll just whip them out and eat em. Nonstop.
Then some genius decided to try covering them with chocolate.
God bless him; he deserves a massive mansion in heaven for that service to the saints right there.
Mansions. One question. Why? What on earth are ya gonna do with all that space? Start some kind of crazy orphanage? Like Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. I wanna mansion like THAT. I love that show. I never get to watch much of it, but I enjoy each chance I get. TV is just kind of boring, ya know? Boring. If something is boring I try to get out of it ASAP. So why the heck am I in a Law and Politics class? Maybe I should go running or mountain biking or rock climbing instead. Sounds like a lot more fun. But then you get to deal with the financial aid department cuz they get grumpy with your GPA. Ain't gonna fly.
I love flying dreams. I love em. Usually it's associated with a jetpack or superpowers (I never really grew out of my 8 year old imagination) as I shoot around in the air. Jetpacks don't seem like they'd work. I always think it'd burn the bottom half of your torso off. The flames and stuff would have to be past your feet. Maybe I'm taking it way too seriously and I should just shut up and enjoy the flying dreams.
I love this song.
http://grooveshark.com/#!/s/A+Little+Opera+Goes+A+Long+Way/3MDsTY?src=5
SO GOOOOOD!!!
It's pretty stinkin' amazing. It just kind of turned me into a pile of mush.
Speaking of mush, I had oatmeal this morning. I need to buy some brown sugar, 'cuz that was pretty bland. Even with a handful of raisins in it.
btw, here's the beginning of a book that a dude I met at camp is starting to write. You should go check it out.
http://cjobook.blogspot.com/
And, if you so desire, the blog of the dude that wrote that EPICLYSTELLARSONGFULLOFAWESOMEJUICE. Right here:
http://www.ayoungblog.com/
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
In and Out
In, and out. Back, and forth. Forward, and back.
The water rolled past his head, crusted in sand, and receded for the thousandth time, pulling a small portion of the grit from his face.
A hermit crab, upon noticing this gargantuan invader of its watery homeland, approached the prostrate man with a fearless interest.
It scuttled toward his mouth, opening and closing its tiny pincers menacingly.
The man suddenly let out a low groan, sending the hermit crab scuttling rapidly in the opposite direction as fast as its spindly legs could carry it.
He shifted his arm, consciousness coming to him. He opened a pair of bright yellow eyes and blinked them slowly, attempting to focus.
He frowned at the large gray object filling his vision, still unable to focus his eyes. He tried to lift his right hand to his eyes so as to rub them, but a stabbing pain shot up his arm and made him clench his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut.
The pain served to wake his mind up by a large margin, and a question as to what he was doing lying on a beach with his arm possibly injured sprang to the forefront of his mind. He opened his eyes again and successfully focused them, a large rock with an irate hermit crab perched on it completely blocking his view of his surroundings.
Frowning, he rolled over, careful to keep pressure off of his right arm.
A large expanse of ivory beach met his eyes, sweeping off to the left until it arched behind the landscape. Blue-green waves rolled in, pounding the beach repeatedly like a giant futilely bludgeoning the ground with a rock again and again and again. Palm trees swayed slowly in the ocean breeze, creating a considerable amount of shade. A small brook trickled into the ocean, slightly offsetting the pristine landscape before him.
Seeing the brook reminded him that he was exceptionally thirsty. His throat felt like sandpaper, and his cramped limbs complained at any effort. Is it really that easy? Fresh water twenty feet from me as soon as I come to? He crawled toward the brook using his left arm and his legs, folding his right arm underneath his chest.
The sound of a wave suddenly and violently crashing jolted his mind, and he fell to the ground, causing a spear of pain to shoot up his right arm a second time. He knew where he was. Two children laughing and playing, and he with them. A woman. Seated and watching the three romp, a smile on her face.
He gasped, and shifted his body weight to keep his right arm from throbbing. The image was gone, and though he reached for whatever he just remembered, he lost it in the depths of his mind. A dull ache remained in his heart, an after-effect of what he had just witnessed.
Irritation filled him.
It's my mind, for Pete's sake, he thought, resuming his slow crawl to the water. I should be able to keep what I want in there!
Grumbling, he reached the brook and plunged his face into the water, taking in as much as he possibly could. It was life entering his veins. It drove the remaining fog from his mind and soothed his aching throat.
He propped himself up on his left arm and stared at the beautiful scene he had been placed in.
So. How did I get here? What's wrong with my arm?
He dug in his mind for answers. None came. Frustrated, he closed his eyes and focused.
Before I woke up. What was there before?
He remained motionless for close to an hour. The sun began to descend, bathing the landscape in a peach-tinged light and turning the foamy crests of the waves to gold.
He threw his head back and yelled in frustration. He stumbled to his feet and promptly collapsed, landing on his right arm again. With clenched teeth and wide, furious eyes, he somehow managed to keep from releasing every curse he knew.
Explosions. Guns firing and shells going off amid the sound of crashing waves, mixing dissonantly with the softer, receding waves right next to him. Men yelling, in fear, pain, and anger.
He gasped, jolted back to his tired body lying on the beach. The adrenaline remained, mixing with his still aching heart.
What was that?
He reached for whatever he had just seen, but he may as well have captured the wind in a jar. The emotions remained, racking his body with such an odd mix of anger, fear, adrenaline, and heart ache that he felt he might explode.
He rolled over and punched the sand with all of his might, jarring his whole body.
"I don't want to be in some kind of limbo, here! Hello? Is anyone listening? Is there some kind of fairy, or demon, or spirit, or god or something messing with me? Leave me alone!" he screamed, throwing a rock with his good arm at a palm tree. The rock thudded to the ground several feet short of his target, which only served to increase his irritation.
"What gives? You think you're funny, don't you?"
"Oh, I think I'm hilarious, actually."
He swung his head around in a panic, looking for the owner of the unknown voice.
The water rolled past his head, crusted in sand, and receded for the thousandth time, pulling a small portion of the grit from his face.
A hermit crab, upon noticing this gargantuan invader of its watery homeland, approached the prostrate man with a fearless interest.
It scuttled toward his mouth, opening and closing its tiny pincers menacingly.
The man suddenly let out a low groan, sending the hermit crab scuttling rapidly in the opposite direction as fast as its spindly legs could carry it.
He shifted his arm, consciousness coming to him. He opened a pair of bright yellow eyes and blinked them slowly, attempting to focus.
He frowned at the large gray object filling his vision, still unable to focus his eyes. He tried to lift his right hand to his eyes so as to rub them, but a stabbing pain shot up his arm and made him clench his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut.
The pain served to wake his mind up by a large margin, and a question as to what he was doing lying on a beach with his arm possibly injured sprang to the forefront of his mind. He opened his eyes again and successfully focused them, a large rock with an irate hermit crab perched on it completely blocking his view of his surroundings.
Frowning, he rolled over, careful to keep pressure off of his right arm.
A large expanse of ivory beach met his eyes, sweeping off to the left until it arched behind the landscape. Blue-green waves rolled in, pounding the beach repeatedly like a giant futilely bludgeoning the ground with a rock again and again and again. Palm trees swayed slowly in the ocean breeze, creating a considerable amount of shade. A small brook trickled into the ocean, slightly offsetting the pristine landscape before him.
Seeing the brook reminded him that he was exceptionally thirsty. His throat felt like sandpaper, and his cramped limbs complained at any effort. Is it really that easy? Fresh water twenty feet from me as soon as I come to? He crawled toward the brook using his left arm and his legs, folding his right arm underneath his chest.
The sound of a wave suddenly and violently crashing jolted his mind, and he fell to the ground, causing a spear of pain to shoot up his right arm a second time. He knew where he was. Two children laughing and playing, and he with them. A woman. Seated and watching the three romp, a smile on her face.
He gasped, and shifted his body weight to keep his right arm from throbbing. The image was gone, and though he reached for whatever he just remembered, he lost it in the depths of his mind. A dull ache remained in his heart, an after-effect of what he had just witnessed.
Irritation filled him.
It's my mind, for Pete's sake, he thought, resuming his slow crawl to the water. I should be able to keep what I want in there!
Grumbling, he reached the brook and plunged his face into the water, taking in as much as he possibly could. It was life entering his veins. It drove the remaining fog from his mind and soothed his aching throat.
He propped himself up on his left arm and stared at the beautiful scene he had been placed in.
So. How did I get here? What's wrong with my arm?
He dug in his mind for answers. None came. Frustrated, he closed his eyes and focused.
Before I woke up. What was there before?
He remained motionless for close to an hour. The sun began to descend, bathing the landscape in a peach-tinged light and turning the foamy crests of the waves to gold.
He threw his head back and yelled in frustration. He stumbled to his feet and promptly collapsed, landing on his right arm again. With clenched teeth and wide, furious eyes, he somehow managed to keep from releasing every curse he knew.
Explosions. Guns firing and shells going off amid the sound of crashing waves, mixing dissonantly with the softer, receding waves right next to him. Men yelling, in fear, pain, and anger.
He gasped, jolted back to his tired body lying on the beach. The adrenaline remained, mixing with his still aching heart.
What was that?
He reached for whatever he had just seen, but he may as well have captured the wind in a jar. The emotions remained, racking his body with such an odd mix of anger, fear, adrenaline, and heart ache that he felt he might explode.
He rolled over and punched the sand with all of his might, jarring his whole body.
"I don't want to be in some kind of limbo, here! Hello? Is anyone listening? Is there some kind of fairy, or demon, or spirit, or god or something messing with me? Leave me alone!" he screamed, throwing a rock with his good arm at a palm tree. The rock thudded to the ground several feet short of his target, which only served to increase his irritation.
"What gives? You think you're funny, don't you?"
"Oh, I think I'm hilarious, actually."
He swung his head around in a panic, looking for the owner of the unknown voice.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Names
Do you ever mull over your name in your head?
Do you ever do it so intensely, and in so focused of a manner on the phonetics and the physical appearance of it on paper that it becomes almost alien in your mind?
Does it become a stand-alone concept that you suddenly have an outside view upon, as if you are a stranger with no name looking down upon it?
Does it strike you how bizarre and wonderful it is that we use odd combinations of sounds to create a unique mark to identify you?
Maybe I'm just crazy.
If not with your name, then how about other words? Even one as simple as shoe. Think about it. Focus on the word. Give a half-minute or so.
SHOE
Is it weird yet?
No?
Pah.
God's Word says that He holds our names in the palm of His hand. (Is. 49:16) Whaaaaaat? The creator of the universe as we know it holding us. Why? Why would He want to hold insecure, messed up people like us, who are only going to turn around and repeatedly disappoint Him?
I guess the only answer that would make sense is that He loves us. Like, a ton. Enough that He decided to send Jesus to die for us, so that when we turn around and do something that hurts Him, it's paid for already. (John 3:16, Rom. 3:23-24, Eph. 2:8-9, Rom. 6:23, 1 John 2:2)
Wowzer. I don't get love like that. But it's the kind of love He wants me to have for people, even the ones that annoy me, or hurt me. It's the kind of love that can seriously do some damage in this world (good damage. If that's even possible :P).
He wants YOU. As weird or messed up as the person behind your name may be. In view of this, all I can really say is
WHOAAAAAAA
And maybe drool a little bit, and possibly scratch my head in bewilderment. Pardon me while I go get a mop to clean up my saliva.
Do you ever do it so intensely, and in so focused of a manner on the phonetics and the physical appearance of it on paper that it becomes almost alien in your mind?
Does it become a stand-alone concept that you suddenly have an outside view upon, as if you are a stranger with no name looking down upon it?
Does it strike you how bizarre and wonderful it is that we use odd combinations of sounds to create a unique mark to identify you?
Maybe I'm just crazy.
If not with your name, then how about other words? Even one as simple as shoe. Think about it. Focus on the word. Give a half-minute or so.
SHOE
Is it weird yet?
No?
Pah.
God's Word says that He holds our names in the palm of His hand. (Is. 49:16) Whaaaaaat? The creator of the universe as we know it holding us. Why? Why would He want to hold insecure, messed up people like us, who are only going to turn around and repeatedly disappoint Him?
I guess the only answer that would make sense is that He loves us. Like, a ton. Enough that He decided to send Jesus to die for us, so that when we turn around and do something that hurts Him, it's paid for already. (John 3:16, Rom. 3:23-24, Eph. 2:8-9, Rom. 6:23, 1 John 2:2)
Wowzer. I don't get love like that. But it's the kind of love He wants me to have for people, even the ones that annoy me, or hurt me. It's the kind of love that can seriously do some damage in this world (good damage. If that's even possible :P).
He wants YOU. As weird or messed up as the person behind your name may be. In view of this, all I can really say is
WHOAAAAAAA
And maybe drool a little bit, and possibly scratch my head in bewilderment. Pardon me while I go get a mop to clean up my saliva.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)