At this point in the life of the Internet, everyone has a blog of some sort. Frankly I’m not sure why, the vast majority of people are just not that interesting.
Sometimes I blog just to get a monkey off my back; ideas or feelings that crash about in my head and need to be released before they damage something up there. Sometimes I blog to let people really know what is going on with me. I enjoy being a private person and I am not about to have the self-importance to think that my problems (if I do indeed have any) are unique.
But I’ve recently had the desire to be known by others. Call it a degree of loneliness or just the reluctant realization that I might actually need other people. My primary interest in keeping a blog is simply to write. I want to become better at it and the best way to do so is to practice it. That and also reading blogs of others that can actually write. Wil Wheaton has very much been my inspiration in this way. He writes very personally about common things and stories of his past quite well. And although I disagree with his politics and quite frankly my eyes glaze over when he writes about poker; he has had two books published to date, which seems a decent indicator of success. I admire him very much in his way of peeling away the distance between writer and reader and making it all very personal.
This is not my diary; nor is it a confessional but if being either of those I somehow manage to put more pixels on screen, then it has served its purpose.
24 December 2006
20 December 2006
The Hardest Part
In the light of recent events, I've discovered something. It is much easier to have Christian faith and practice it when it is not being tested under stress. I have enough faith in Christ to say that "no, I do not want that bright, shiny thing" but when it comes to something that I see as incredibly important/wonderful and that I am more than willing to throw anyone that gets in my way under a bus for... well, then the answer does not come as quickly now does it? I have crossed certain lines and chosen to engage in sin all because I see what I want and nothing is going to stop me from getting it. This puts the 'thing' (or person rather) in a place of more importance than Jesus... not a good thing. I do not know how to justify this cut-throat, tenacious way of thinking with my faith and (ideally) still get the girl.
Everyone sins, I know Jesus was the atonement for all my sins, past, present and future. We live in a messy, broken world and have to operate within it... it's all well and good to speak of ideals but that is not the world. Pragmatic... you go through the day and deal with what has to be dealt with hoping that at the end of it all you end up not as dirty as you could have been, that there is still some shred of faith somewhere deep inside, pristine.
I want to find a Scriptural reference to "the ends justify the means" and I'm pretty sure that it's not there.
Everyone sins, I know Jesus was the atonement for all my sins, past, present and future. We live in a messy, broken world and have to operate within it... it's all well and good to speak of ideals but that is not the world. Pragmatic... you go through the day and deal with what has to be dealt with hoping that at the end of it all you end up not as dirty as you could have been, that there is still some shred of faith somewhere deep inside, pristine.
I want to find a Scriptural reference to "the ends justify the means" and I'm pretty sure that it's not there.
11 December 2006
Point Of Personal Preference
What do I have to do to get comments on my blog posts, cure the blind???? Quite a few e-mails and phone calls though... thank you everyone for putting up with the Jane Austen novel that is my life. Although personally I'm trying to move it into F. Scott Fritzgerald 'Great Gatsby' territory minus accidental death.
09 December 2006
A Blessing And A Curse
Aimee Ryan walked out of the shadows and back into my life however briefly last night.
After a long e-mail exchange, I was eventually persuaded to meet with her in Bellevue. She was feeling remorseful about how things ended with us seven years ago. This is an emotion that I didn’t think she was capable of much less willing to express. But through the course of too short a night, express them she did and in such a way that I actually believe her.
We met in the now nearly cookie-cutter Bellevue mall, she wore an obnoxious pink poofy jacket that I assume she mugged a 12 yo. Japanese girl for. It would seem that her trademark vintage style was left stranded on the wayside at some point. A pity. After an uncomfortable hug and hello we had guarded cups of coffee at Tully’s where she gave me a belated birthday card for my recent entry into true adulthood and a Christmas present to even out the balance for when last we met. Aimee has always been a woman of accessories, especially rings. Since the day I met her, she has always told stories through the rings on her hands during awkward moments. But I couldn’t help but notice the diamond ring on her left hand that told the biggest story of all.
This was an unfortunate discovery as I had asked her before if she was; to which her reply was evasion. She knew that I would not have met with her; a woman that I had loved in every sense of the word if she was. She told me of that marriage and it’s state. I can identify all too easily with the poor, trusting soul that thinks his significant other (or in this case wife) is “out with friends”. Maybe I should have left at that point, I considered it. But I didn’t. Instead we walked and talked about our lives and things from before. It was a lovely and amazing evening that I didn’t want to end. I keep replaying it in my mind to try to extract every detail that I can. But it had to end. I walked her to the same 1994 Mustang GT convertible that she sped out of my life in seven years ago. We both stammered about trying to squeeze just a little more time out of the night. We hugged three times, thinking it was the end only to prolong it again. The hugs were heart heavy. We told each other that we missed one another and then I had to turn and walk away; quickly for fear that I would turn back around and do something stupid.
She had an impatient husband to get home to, the fact making me feel like a scoundrel. But all I wanted to do was hold her there, tell her over and over again how much I miss her and never let her go. She was and always will be my best friend; she knows me and I know her. After a few fitful hours of half-sleep, I realized that I also am still very much in love with her. In fact I never really stopped loving her, circumstances just got in the way of it being expressed. And now these circumstances are painfully and frustratingly obvious. Before, youthful idiocy prevented us from continuing together; now all it is a little silver ring with a colourless stone in it that prevents me from knowing her past that night. Is timing everything in life? Did we squander the one chance we had together? I don't want to say 'yes'.
Aimee proved to me that she really is the woman that I had hoped she was. Before 5 p.m. Friday night, I would have described her uncommon femininity as her most attractive quality; a poise and manner that befits a woman, a lady. Something different about her that elevated her above all others in my mind. But I discovered later that I had forgotten about her moxie and the back-and-forth banter that came so easily to us. It was through this that our friendship and love for one another was based. And I must admit that she is extremely attractive when she is cracking wise.
This would seem to be the end. She wants to stay in touch though e-mail at least. I want to do so very much. But given her situation, it seems that I would only complicate things. I don’t care for drama and even less so for causing it. And even though the night tied up many things we had to say to each other, I am still left with the question of how to deal with Aimee Ryan. The hurt is gone, the hate is gone. What is left now is a missed chance at love that we both regret and that continues to consume portions of our lives. A blessing and a curse.
After a long e-mail exchange, I was eventually persuaded to meet with her in Bellevue. She was feeling remorseful about how things ended with us seven years ago. This is an emotion that I didn’t think she was capable of much less willing to express. But through the course of too short a night, express them she did and in such a way that I actually believe her.
We met in the now nearly cookie-cutter Bellevue mall, she wore an obnoxious pink poofy jacket that I assume she mugged a 12 yo. Japanese girl for. It would seem that her trademark vintage style was left stranded on the wayside at some point. A pity. After an uncomfortable hug and hello we had guarded cups of coffee at Tully’s where she gave me a belated birthday card for my recent entry into true adulthood and a Christmas present to even out the balance for when last we met. Aimee has always been a woman of accessories, especially rings. Since the day I met her, she has always told stories through the rings on her hands during awkward moments. But I couldn’t help but notice the diamond ring on her left hand that told the biggest story of all.
This was an unfortunate discovery as I had asked her before if she was; to which her reply was evasion. She knew that I would not have met with her; a woman that I had loved in every sense of the word if she was. She told me of that marriage and it’s state. I can identify all too easily with the poor, trusting soul that thinks his significant other (or in this case wife) is “out with friends”. Maybe I should have left at that point, I considered it. But I didn’t. Instead we walked and talked about our lives and things from before. It was a lovely and amazing evening that I didn’t want to end. I keep replaying it in my mind to try to extract every detail that I can. But it had to end. I walked her to the same 1994 Mustang GT convertible that she sped out of my life in seven years ago. We both stammered about trying to squeeze just a little more time out of the night. We hugged three times, thinking it was the end only to prolong it again. The hugs were heart heavy. We told each other that we missed one another and then I had to turn and walk away; quickly for fear that I would turn back around and do something stupid.
She had an impatient husband to get home to, the fact making me feel like a scoundrel. But all I wanted to do was hold her there, tell her over and over again how much I miss her and never let her go. She was and always will be my best friend; she knows me and I know her. After a few fitful hours of half-sleep, I realized that I also am still very much in love with her. In fact I never really stopped loving her, circumstances just got in the way of it being expressed. And now these circumstances are painfully and frustratingly obvious. Before, youthful idiocy prevented us from continuing together; now all it is a little silver ring with a colourless stone in it that prevents me from knowing her past that night. Is timing everything in life? Did we squander the one chance we had together? I don't want to say 'yes'.
Aimee proved to me that she really is the woman that I had hoped she was. Before 5 p.m. Friday night, I would have described her uncommon femininity as her most attractive quality; a poise and manner that befits a woman, a lady. Something different about her that elevated her above all others in my mind. But I discovered later that I had forgotten about her moxie and the back-and-forth banter that came so easily to us. It was through this that our friendship and love for one another was based. And I must admit that she is extremely attractive when she is cracking wise.
This would seem to be the end. She wants to stay in touch though e-mail at least. I want to do so very much. But given her situation, it seems that I would only complicate things. I don’t care for drama and even less so for causing it. And even though the night tied up many things we had to say to each other, I am still left with the question of how to deal with Aimee Ryan. The hurt is gone, the hate is gone. What is left now is a missed chance at love that we both regret and that continues to consume portions of our lives. A blessing and a curse.
04 December 2006
Christmastime!
Sign of Christmas #201: Harry & David gift baskets from vendors... I'm twitching just thinking about it.
Shutterbug
My camera is giving me fits. I have been repeatedly trying to capture all the right pretty lights at Seattle Centre but ninety percent of what I shoot is worthless. Depending on the settings I use, I either capture way too much or not enough light in the shot. The above shot of the Pacific Science Centre Pavilion is nothing compared to the shite I've already deleted. I think I'll be forced to delve into my camera settings again and actually think about the mechanics of it. Or, I could just 'blame it' on not using a 'proper' camera and use that argument to justify shelling out a new purchase.
Pastor Mark & Our Kooky Christian Family
My trepidation with the planned protest yesterday was thankfully unfounded. I wasn't quite sure what to expect even though I served at the five and attended the seven and therefore supposedly too late for the planned 'festivities'. I made an effort as I was crossing the Ballard Bridge to look for the Mars Hill building to see if it was in flames, thankfully that was not the case.
Mark and the Critics managed to diffuse the situation as he explains in his blog http://www.theresurgence.com/mark_driscoll_2006-12-01_count_it_all_joy
Mark often describes himself as a sinner from the pulpit, as we all are he is not perfect. He and Mars Hill will continue to draw criticism in the future for views held and expressed. No matter how diplomatically those views are couched.
Mark and the Critics managed to diffuse the situation as he explains in his blog http://www.theresurgence.com/mark_driscoll_2006-12-01_count_it_all_joy
Mark often describes himself as a sinner from the pulpit, as we all are he is not perfect. He and Mars Hill will continue to draw criticism in the future for views held and expressed. No matter how diplomatically those views are couched.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
