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99.06.27 time.

99.06.28 simple things.

99.08.03 apathy.

99.08.04 faith as escapism.

99.10.06 thought menagerie.

99.11.30 sarah michelle gellar.

00.01.15 boundries.

00.02.02 simplicity.

00.02.03 like a child.

00.03.27 p.s. you rock my world.

00.04.03 hope.

00.04.07 memory.

00.04.17 field of flowers.

00.04.27 tigermilk.

00.05.01 fear.

99.06.27 Sun. 22:05


Where I grew up there were no seasons. The "summer" meant that it was lighter

outside for maybe an hour longer. The "summer" was hot. There was no spring.

There was no autumn. There wasn't really a winter. There was summer and there

wasn't summer. I hear in some places, leaves change colors drastically in

week. That's how you know its autumn. Where I live, there is no autumn. I think

autumn would be my favorite season, but I am not sure.

I don't think I would like spring much, but I guess I never knew winter. I

guess I never really knew summer- it was just hot and there was no school.

I guess it's supposed to rain in spring- I guess I would like that.

It's dangerous to grow up and live where there aren't seasons. I wonder if

seasons are depressing. I get depressed and anxious in May. Maybe May is my

winter. I don't think depressed is the right word. I don't know if there is a right


When we were at Versailles, the kings chambers had hidden doors that blended in

with the rest of the decorated walls. I really liked those doors. They weren't

really hidden I suppose. Antoinette thought her doors were hidden, but her

husband knew better. She tried to hide her doors, but they were just like Versailles.

Everyone always told me to design homes with secret passageways. They

said it would make them feel more safe. I always said that was dumb and

inefficient, but I liked it too. It was one of those fake doors. I just don't know

what I'm protecting myself from.

I have to keep reminding myself that self-control is one of the fruits of the Spirit.

That it's a good thing. That you can't have too much self-control. Maybe I need

to change my definition of self-control. Guarding your every move is safe. It's a

good thing. Remaining inactive is safe. Maybe that's not such a good thing.

Being inactive is different than self-control. Inactivity isn't one of the fruits of

the Spirit. I couldn't be much more controlled. I couldn't be much less active.

Movies are different when you watch them with different people. Harold

and Maude is a good movie. Maybe I shouldn't go to so many movies alone.

They say rhetoric and audience are important. If you have to consider rhetoric

and audience than maybe you should consider your subject. Some things aren't

worth the time and effort. Like bad movies. The Matrix was a bad movie but

everyone else liked it. It did have false consciousness, but it also had Keanu

Reeves. Dalton said when you analyze books, you can't read without doing it.

He said that's what movies are for. I need something like movies because it's

too late for movies.

99.06.28 Mon. 08:30

simple things.

There's a line in "Sugarcube" that goes, "I'll try to be more assure, I'll try to

be more right there / try to be less uptight, try to be more aware." I don't

think trying to be aware works.

There is this beeping sound in the elevator- it's really faint I could hear it. If I

tried too hard to hear it after that, I couldn't. I need to be more assure. Maybe

that's why I don't talk very much. That's not self-control either.

I need to stop thinking passively. No more using "think" or "seem" or "guess." I

need to readjust my values. I know this because I made it a point to watch

Dawson's Creek last night. That is two weeks in a row that I've watched it.

This hotel has Puzzle Bobble. I've never played it, but it's a great game.

Bubble Bobble is a great game too. The M.U. has Puzzle Bobble, but they

call it Bust A Move. I like Puzzle Bobble better. One time Jon found Bubble

Bobble 2. It was expensive and I'm not sure if we ever even found out

what it was. It could be Puzzle Bobble I suppose.

There is a girl on Dawson's Creek that looks like Dana. I really like the way

that Katie Holmes scrunches up her face. I hope that's not the reason why I

watched it again. But actually that's as good of a reason as any. I'll take Katie

Holmes over any WB actress. That sounds bad. I like Katie Holmes better than

any WB actress. But that's not right either. As an actress I like Keri Russell better.

Katie Holmes scrunched up her face in a smile that I like better than anything else

on the WB. There, that might be closed to what I mean.

I owe God a lot of money. I better pay Him back when I get home. God is

better than video games. I used to like video games though. Maniac

Mansion was a great video game too. I never had any of my favorite video

games. Maybe I should get them. They are probably really cheap now. I

should probably pay back God first.

I always said that I would never watch Dawson's Creek. Here, it's just called

Dawson. I can fool myself into that being valid justification for sticking to my

resolution. I just can't watch it at home. I could never live that down. I've made

fun of too many people for watching that show to ever start watching it.

In English, Brandon Nichols once said that Katie Holmes was "dreamy." He never

told me how she scrunched up her face. Maybe if I make fun of Buffy more, I

could watch Dawson's Creek unnoticed. That's not likely to work either.

Most video games aren't healthy. That's what Juan Buñuel said too. Good reflexes

have nothing to do with expanding your mind. Video games have changed.

Dawson's Creek isn't healthy, but I don't know any better because it's in

French. Here, it's just Katie Holmes' smile. If it's different in America, I

don't want to know. I would play Bust A Move at the M.U. if they called it

Puzzle Bobble. I would watch Dawson's Creek if it were in French. That

way, I could pretend the French was expanding my mind.

99.08.03  Tue. 13:35


One phrase that the speaker kept repeating last night was "in the depths of

desparity."  He said that's when you hear God's voice and feel His touch.  I haven't

had any single despair moment to experience God.  What about the depths of

malaise?  The depths of apathy?  How do you experience God in such an


So much emphasis is put on emotion at these conventions.  I know God

gave us emotions for a reason, but I haven't figured out why.  The love I

feel for others, the apathy I feel towards everyday life, the enjoyment that I get out

of nothing other than Belle and Sebastian.

Are disillusionment, malaise and apathy even emotions?

Christianity is like trying to put together a four-dimensional puzzle in the dark.

99.08.04  Wed. 09:30

faith as escapism.

How much of my spiritual life is simply escapism?  How much of Belle &

Sebastian is escapism?  How much of my crushes, obsessions and infatuations

are escapism?  I understand why people do drugs and why people drink-

it's an escape.  While church and music are physically healthier escapes, are

escapes healthy?

It has to be healthy, or it would be too dark altogether- too disillusioned.  

I'm just afraid that maybe some of my faith is an escape.  A purely selfish

escape.  While God shouldn't ever be considered an escape, maybe I go to

church to see certain people.  Maybe I go to hang out with others.  Maybe my

consuming philosophies are an improper use of time.

The speaker last night said everything that I'd been thinking for the past year.  

About our Stormy Pinkness- how I'm simply a raggamuffin.  How I can not even

compare myself to God's perfection because I can never know what it means.

While I try to maintain a humble attitude towards God, how is it not arrogant that

I'm writing instead of reading and listening?  How can any time that I spend

not with God not be arrogance?

I don't think that questioning is wrong, but it's quite possible that I spend too

much time answering these questions than maybe doing what is really

important: or even finding what is really important.

Yesterday in class I came upon something which spoke to me.  It was second

Peter 1:5-11.  It says: "His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to

life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory

and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises,

that throught these you may escape from the corruption that is in the world because

of passion, and become partakers of the divine nature.  For this very reason

make every effort to supplement your faith with virture, and virtue with

knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with

steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly

affection, and brotherly affection with love.  For if these things are yours and

abound, they keep you from being ineffective in the knowledge of our Lord

Jesus Christ.  For whoever lacks these things is blind and shortsighted and has

forgotten that he was cleansed from his old sins.  Therefore, brethen, be the

more zealous to confirm your call and election for if you do this you will never

fall; so there will be richly provided for you an enterance into the eternal kingdom

of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ."

This passage affirms that God is working in me.  I have been following this exact

pattern.  The only problem is that I want to achieve love now.  Love comes after

the changes.  I will love after the changes.  For now, I am stuck in the middle

struggling to express myself but being too inactive to do so.  Today in talking

about compassion, In Greek, the word means a churning of your inards

because you love and pity another.  I have felt that many times, but don't

know if I can call it compassion because I didn't act on it.  I need to be

more loving, but first must complete the prior cycles.  I have excelled in

virtue and, while I still struggle, I do not struggle with as many things.  My

passion for knowledge has possibly been almost too overwhelming, as I spend

so much time looking for the right answers.  In the last few months, I have

noticed my strong self-control to almost an obsessive state.  Now I want to skip

to love.  Steadfastness, godliness and brotherly affection must all come first.  

Interesting how those areas are where I am lacking.  While I can control myself

and search for knowledge, I need to work on my relationships with others.

Maybe steadfastness is the opposite of apathy.  If so, I'm in for a long change.

The past year has been very productive.  I'm not sure what I owe it to besides

God.  While some of the initial attraction to church is for the wrong reasons,

I'm sure it has been beneficial.  If not, the change in youth programs

wouldn't have been so important to me.

Second Peter explains how following his ways escapes worldly corruption.  My

problem might be in the definitino of escape and escapism.  With my music and film

intrests, I escape the disillusionment of the world in a way that still seems in a

higher level than spacing out.  I experience them on diffenent levels which often

include a moral or knowledgable contemplation.  I think that music can speak in

many different ways and can have important meaning even in the spiritual realm.

Church as an escape from the evils of the world still seems different from escapism.

I think the connotation of escapism is one of theme parks and fantasy novels which

are essentially empty.  Art must be more meaningful then this.  Not on the same

level as faith, but somewhere in between.  They are both, for me, an escape

from disillusionment.  A disillusionment of corruption and ignorance.  An escape

to simplicity, to acceptance and comfort.  Both are an escape with content.

Content which can only be healthy within virtue, knowledge, self-control,

steadfastness, godliness, brotherly affection and love.


99.10.06  Wed. 23:34

thought menagerie.

I got my first smell of autumn today.  I was walking into the house and caught

it for a minute.  I had to step back and try to catch it again, but it didn't work

that way.  I can sense it to in the mornings.  It is a bit cooler and it reminds me

of Belle & Sebastian and how, for no explainable reason, last year was the best


It's been almost 2 weeks since I first saw American Beauty.  This is the only

film ever in which I feel the urgent need to see again and again.  I've been

telling everyone to see it.  I got an insight from my dad on Friday when he and

Diana came back from Florida.  I told him that he had to see American Beauty

and he asked what it was about.  I told him it was about the American dream

and he said, "what, owning a house?"  I always knew it, but that explains everything.

This film made my desire to make films all the more stronger.  I've been thinking

cinematically in the best ways that I know how, which can't be that much. I wonder

how much of my inactivity may be due to a reaction against my dad's activity.

 Minimal dialogue and Egoyan-esque flashbacks.  Dominationof small talk

that means different things to different people.  My attention to Kansas State.  

 A car ride also brings about interesting elements.  Passing Mesquite High School

can lead to a flashback, the symbolism of construction work and the block factory.

 That odd concrete structure that only I notice.

I've been approaching God wrongly once again.  I thought I had it figured

out.  Steadfastness is all I needed.  That was the next link.  I said that steadfastness

is what I needed to work on.  How arrogant!  How many times must I be

confused by what to do before I realize that it's not my job.  I can do nothing.

Now I know what to do, but I'm not doing it.

Worse than viewing church as escapism, I sometimes have to wonder if church

satisfies entirely differnet desires.  September 19 was one of these times.  I

haven't been able to conclude whether or not Blur's "Tender" is sarcastic, but the

line "Tender is the touch of someone that you love too much" satisfies this equation.

I could smell the fragrance for the rest of the day and tried my hardest to commit

it to memory and make every moment last.  This happened during prayer.

It blew Dr. Pepper, Felicity, and Sarah McLachlan out of the water.  I still

listened to Sarah McLachlan though.

99.11.30  Tue.  23:15

sarah michelle gellar.

I had a dream a week and a half ago about Sarah Michelle Gellar.  I was in

a classroom- though not one I had been in before.  The desks were split and on two

sides of the room facing eachother.  I think the class was english because

Mr. McClellan was the teacher.  She was on the opposite side of the room

that I was.

McClellan was reading out the attendance, but there were only a few names on it.

She was the last.  She acted somewhat like a "valley girl" in her response.  It went

something like, "Yeah I'm here- hello- I'm only on t.v. like every week"- insulting

the teacher in a way as if he should know she was present.  He tried to respond

with some sort of social commentary about fame by asking who lost the last

governor election.  However, he quickly shut up, as she knew the answer.

After her response, I said something to her about, at least her name being on the

role, as mine was not.  That made her laugh and I felt important.

I don't know what happened between then and the next scene I remember,

where some man came in.  I think he was some important Hollywood agent

or the like who wanted Sarah Michelle Gellar to act something out.  I was somewhat

involved in this, as I was standing by her.  Mr. McClellan, still obviously

playfully bitter about Sarah Michelle Gellar spoiling his commentary about the

fleeting nature of fame, introduced the guest as someone, "who spends his

Monday evenings watching Monday Night Football rather then Buffy the Vampire


This time the joke did appear to be on Sarah Michelle Gellar, as she got nervous

and refused to read the part.  Here, I understood though, intuition I suppose, that

Sarah Michelle Gellar was shamefully illiterate.  She then left and locked herself

in a bathroom.  The rest of the dream is very sketchy, but I think it ended with

her hanging herself in the bathroom.  At least that's what I heard, I didn't see

anything.  By then, the dream was becoming more surreal, and I think that

was the end of it.  Everything else seemed entirely realistic, down to Mr.

McClellan's demeanor, regardless of that fact that Buffy the Vampire Slayer

isn't on Monday nights.

00.01.15  Sat. 23:30


I find it silly when people think that commiting suicide is the gravest sin because

you can not ask for forgiveness.  How is that at all logical that when God makes

a promise, that he is bound by time?  God can not even know time, for the only

think that establishes time is ignorance of the future.

It's like when people are proud of themselves for asking, "Can God make a rock

too heavy for himself to lift?"  What a completely illogical thing to say.  There is

no such thing as heavy to God because- 1) he isn't bound to physical nature and

2) strength only exists in relation to limitations of which God has none.

Too many people refuse to believe in God for 2 reasons.  1) They can not

accept that not everything is logical and comprehendable.  They try to put

God "in a box", rather than simply accepting that they will never completely

understand anything.  2) They always relate God to humans, and try to understand

him through human limitations.  Placed between two infinites, everything we

do to understand the world is through comparison.  If we can not compare

something to our limitations, we refuse to believe it altogether.  God can not

have any of the physical qualities that we do, for our ways of understanding toe

world are through limitation.  God doesn't see what we do, for sight is nothing

but an ignorance of what's beyond.  Touch is our impossibility to pass through \

physical matter.  Sight resides in such a small section of the electro-magnetic

spectrum, it is clear that we are only limited beings.  And what about the other

spectrums that we can't even comprehend?  The possibilities are endless and we

can never know any better.

At the same time, what we can understand through are limitations should

clearly illustrate that we are here for a reason.  The earth revolves in such

a way that the sun is the center.  The sun is entirely necessary for our

existance, yet it relates to our senses of understanding.  First, though light, as I

have said, is such a small fraction of wavelengths, the sun provides us with light,

without which, or sense of sight wold be useless.

Placed in these infinites, we cannot exist in the extremes yet we are at such a

distance, that we are able to survive as far as warmth is concerned, while any

other distance from the sun would prove impossible.

Keeping in mind our limitations, I do not see how anyone could not believe in a

master plan, and be willing to accept one.

00.02.02  Wed.  00:02


Fasting makes two days seem like one.  See how I think!  That's why fasting

didn't work.  I'm still too busy waiting for Thursday.

I fasted for 48 hours and then quit.  I realized that I had no reason for it.  I

didn't know what I was looking for.  I didn't approach it with the right attitude.

I'm going to wait until I learn more about it before I attempt it again.

I wish I had a pear tree.  I was just thinking the other day how I have never even

seen a pear tree.  There is something wrong with that.  Someday I'm going to have

a garden.  I have always wanted one, as silly as it sounds.  It will be somewhat

practical, as I will grow spinach and asparagus, but I want it to have a lot of simple

beauty.  It will be full of freesias and roses and any other flowers that I see fit.  It

will have grass too.  There's something inherently beautiful about long grass.

Gardening is a step towards simplicity.  The simple concept of growth is so

entirely amazing in itself, it makes one small, comfined area completely universal

and magical.  I think gardening can be a form of meditation and worship:

"consider the lilies of the field."  What a beautifully complex world that is most

appreciated from a simple perspective.

Someday I'm going to grow a pear tree.  I don't know if I can do it here, but

someday, somewhere I am going to grow a pear tree.

00.02.03   Thu.  00:13  

like a child.

It's impossible to be childlike.  Entirely childlike.  Children are hypnotized by the

world.  I want to reject the world and be childlike, but it's impossible to do both.

You have to know the world to be able to reject it.  There is a certain ignorance

that comes with being childlike that it's too late to return to.  I think it's good to not

be ignorant, for if you are, its inevitable that it will be revealed again.  I want to

somehow remain knowledgeable and childlike.  I'm not sure how.

Today Grandpa told me about when he was a child growing up on the farm.  He

said every year they couldn't wait until wild strawberries grew in the fields.  That

is the simplicity that I want to return to.  Not so much return because I never

knew it.  I just wish the world was simple as it once was.  In the modern world,

we grow up to fast.  I have fond memories about childhood, but they are

incredibly vague and, quite possibly fabricated.

Sometimes I wonder how much of the idea of marriage is a result of men wanting

to protect women like a daughter.  Everyone always talks about how men want

sons.  I guess it used to be important to carry on tradition or whatnot, but

that makes no sense to me.  There is nothing in a name.  I want a daughter.

That's almost my view of marriage.  An entirely non-sexual, protecting

relationship.  I'm drawn to innocence.  When I think about _, I wish so much

for her to be pure and innocent of  the ways of the world.  There's a certain

magic to that.  That might be what I love so much about her.  Protective isn't

the right word at all.  It has a lot of negative connotation.  I have just come

to despise the ways of the world so much.  It's entirely God's work because

I have not always been like this, and I haven't intentionally tried to feel this way.

There is no way for me to express these feelings and ideas.  I want to be seen

as a sensitive person, but I'm also afraid to do so.  Possibly because I don't

know how to do so.  There may be something in my inability to express it that

makes it divine.

00.03.27   Mon.  01:29  

p.s. you rock my world.

Such simple songwriting can stir up emotions like nothing else. Iíve recently

rediscovered the Eels and have determined that ďP.S. You Rock My WorldĒ

should be my theme song. Iíve heard people talk about how they have theme songs

for their lives. I never quite knew how to relate. Now I do.

I like the song in the same way that I like American Beauty. Itís simultaneously

profound and common sense. It is both depressing, and hopeful. It is utterly

sincere and entirely parallelism.

I am slowly emerging from a glaze of disillusionment. My eyes need to readjust.

This song is sort of a constant reminder of logicality. This song isnít saying

anything new, but it still nearly brings me to tears every time I listen to it.

I need to learn how to live. No song can teach me how.

Almost four years ago, I made this resolution to get up early every morning

in the summer and to go the park and read and feed the ducks. I never did it

once. Thereís some affliction inside of me that rejects simplicity and a child-like

spirit. I hate that about myself. I never act on anything. Thereís a part of me

that still wants to go feed the ducks every morning. But something is continually

holding me back.

I never go on walks anymore. I am beginning to think that I suppress my emotions

more than I thought I did. Otherwise, I canít explain my frenzied emotional state

during spring break. It affected me to the point where I was physically

ill at ease, yet with no rationale besides boredom. I must be unconsciously

bottling it up. I should start going on more walks.

00.04.03   Mon.  15:37  


More often than not, I feel like I'm not made for this world. I'm always striving

for one step further. The most logical explanation I can think of is, I simply am

not made for this world. C.S. Lewis wrote that, as humans, we feel desires within

us that simply can not be fulfilled on earth. That's his argument for heaven. I

daily find myself in situations where my heart feels like it's going to cave in.

It usually last only a second, not near as long as I wish is would. If all desire

exists for a reason, we can only be hopeful that they will be fulfilled in the

future. The closest I can hope for heaven to be is a constant of two feelings I felt

this past week. On Thursday, I downloaded a new Belle & Sebastian song, "Winter Wooskie."

I was so intensely excited while listening to it for the first time. That intensity

never lasts, as much as I may like the song.

The second occasion took place when I went to the mall last week to pick up tax forms.

Despite the irony of this happening while I was getting tax forms, I saw a little

boy with his grandmother looking in the window of the Disney store. The boy was

watching the magic that was just inside the window.

The magic that has become so routine to me. His face lit up and he let out this utterly

joyous outburst of laughter. Something leaped inside of me. I try to commit those

moments to memory as best I can because they are so rare and important. On earth,

my joy is a nostalgia. I went and found my old favorite stuffed animal this weekend.

It's an old cocker spaniel named Millie. As silly as it sounds, it brings back a memory

of being like a child, as vague as those memories are, that I have somehow lost.

The excitment that only music brings parallels these feelings. I can only assume

that heaven will be a perpetual feeling of these innocent joys.

00.04.07   Fri.  00:55 


Last year in an architecture lecture, a guest lecturer did this entire hour

on architecture and memory. She wanted to make this wall completely out of

till from a nearby stream over the course of a year, just so everyone in the

community that encountered that space would remember the progression of place.

She thouroghly discussed this theory and everyone in class thought she was

insane. Something inside of me completely understood what she was talking


After a recent discussion, I realized that I associate all of my favorite

albums with place and time. The question that then came up is, is it because of

place that these became my favorite albums?

For example, my four favorite albums of the past decade are Sixpence None The

Richer Sixpence None The Richer, Yo La Tengo I Can Hear The Heart Beating

As One, Belle and Sebastian If You're Feeling Sinister and Sarah McLachlan

Fumbling Towards Ecstasy.

The Sixpence CD has obvious sentimental value, but became one of my elite favorites

after both Thanksgiving in Prescott and on the Casas trip to El Paso. Neither

Thanksgiving nor the Casas trip have any significant value that this album triggers.

It only gives meaning to the absense that my heart felt, and the longing, hope

and discourage with myself I felt while listening to it.

No other album could have meant that. Few more can now, yet not to that extent.

I bought the Yo La Tengo album right before the trip to Laughlin last May. In a

sense, I saved it for the trip. Everytime I listen to it, I am brought back

to the empty highway and the beautiful desert. The Laughlin trip was nothing to

talk about, but this album is probably the best thing that happened to me in

Nevada. I'll never forget looking at the desert with the wind in my face while

the sun was right above it. I have always felt a certain malaise towards

afternoons, but never has such barren land been so beautiful. "Sugarcube"

was so meaningful.

Alas, Belle and Sebastian. I listened to this CD for the first time in November,

driving up to the cold weather in Prescott. It later came to mean so much more

(via "The Stars of Track and Field" and "Like Dylan in the Movies") but the

initial reaction is unforgettable, if not prominent. I nearly

always associate Fumbling Towards Ecstasy with 2 things. One, nearly

every girl I have liked; and two, airplane trips. I honestly don't remember how

many times I've wanted to steal her words, or how many times I've honestly

listened to them on a plane. In both cases, I only remember one specifically,

but for some reason am sure there are more. After the

cruise, we were flying back at night- we got upgraded to first class, and I

remember sitting by this Jewish man who special ordered a kosher meal, but

refused it. I didn't eat anything because we were bumped onto the plane at

the last minute and there was no way for me to get a vegetarian meal.

I was tired and hungry and didn't care. I just listened to Fumbling

Towards Ecstasy until my batteries died. I have never loved the album so

much as then.

If there is anything I associate with that album, it is solitude and darkness.

Whether it was listening to the album for the first time Freshman year while

my family was mysteriously not home, or if it was listening to "Ice" when I really

meant to tape "Hold On" in the darkness on the way up to Prescott in the winter,

this album has always been more than an album. I've recently

come to the conclusion that judging art is completely subjective. While there

is indeed (usually an obvious) difference between good and bad, judging better

from good is a matter of personal experience. Is Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

truly the best album of the decade? There is no doubt in my mind, it is decidedly

so. Can I ever conclude that anyone else should think so also? Not only can I

not expect that, it is not possible. The album is an entirely different one

for them. My Fumbling Towards Ecstasy is unmatched. It exists only

for me.

It is not for the time or place that these albums are pure magic, it is for what

the places are not. The places aren't places of great times or meaning, but

of absense. It isn't travel that makes these meaningful, it is the album that

magnifies the absense of, and draws me closer to where I want to be.

While art can transcend time, it is only valuale within in. If I bought a

Nick Drake CD today, it simply could not touch Belle and Sebastian because it

has no place in time for me. I have subconsiously determined that its time

is up. As amazing as every song might be, rather compositionally or emotionally,

it can not match what I know. It would be foreign. I need to

both know the time and make the time. I must live through its time. I need to

patiently observe each work collecting the till from the stream and creating its

own wall. A wall which has no practical purpose. A wall with no physical

significance. A wall of monumental importance only because it encompasses a

time completely: an atmosphere, a season, a weather, a running conversation,

a love. All of which have no historical meaning. No, art does not transcend time,

it is most powerful within it.

00.04.17   Mon.  15:26 

field of flowers.

I was looking at a calendar the other day. It was one of those free calendars

from a realtor, which contains those stereotypical picturesque scenes.

April's picture was out of the ordinary. It was a hillside, not unlike any

hillside, with small red flowers that were nothing to speak of. It was a

typical scene. It was out of the ordinary because it was so ordinary.

I initially thought that it was stupid to put a picture like that in a calendar.

I'm so used to the extraordinary waterfalls, canyons, and wildlife, that this

hillside almost bored me. Then I realized that I was misguided. It was a

simple hillside, and it was beautiful. I don't

know when the change occurred in me, for the last year and a half have been

very meaningful, yet gone by fast. But I'm changing. I'm being changed.

There is an electricity in the air lately that is effecting me. It's becoming

harder to hold backÖ at the same time it doesn't make sense, but seems so

perfectÖ so hopefulÖ

My love is like the mustard seed. It didn't start out as anything more than

anything else ever starts, but it came to permeate my entire being. As much

as I wished I could nurture it, it really had nothing to do with me. I don't

know where the growth came from.

I have never believed much in the metaphor of spring. The whole rebirth,

love-is-in-the-air, never made much sense to me. In fact, my favorite

time of year was always autumn. But spring is becoming beautiful. In fact,

someone even knows who I love. That's a big step. I'm afraid that whenever

I take a step, I'll want to follow it with another. It almost feels like I'm

being pushedÖ I suppose that's another reason why I'm hopeful. Maybe there is

a reason. Regardless, I've started moving, ever so slowly.

00.04.27   Thu.  12:36 


On the debut Belle & Sebastian album, there is a picture of a woman pretending

to breast-feed a stuffed tiger doll. I was initially embarassed by that image,

I think that is something that has been implanted in me by society. The more

I thought about that picture, even if it wasn't intended by the artist,

it represents beauty, entirely.

It contains the perfect combination of what I am drawn to: the amazing

juxtaposition of motherhood and the child-like spirit. I am not sure how it

comes about, but I can somehow sense a gentle spirit.

I don't really know why I like the people I do, but I know I am inately

drawn to girls who would be both the most amazing mother, and have the same

childlike spirit within themselves.

It's strange, yet it seems to exist for a reason, because every time, the more

I get to know them, the more sense it makes. It's not like I'm drawn to some

superficial quality, and then I am later disillusioned by who they really are.

It's like I somehow know how they really are from the start. And that's

why I like them.

Maybe that's what is so confusing. I don't develop crushes randomly, so it

seems there should be a purpose. But then there's fear.

00.05.01 Mon. 14:22


There was this episode of Dawsonís Creek in which Dawson was dealing with the

fact that his parents were getting divorced. He was confiding in this girl

who was a new friend, whose parents were also divorced. He said, basically,

that our parents are our primary examples of love. When our parents relationship

doesnít make it, it makes us (a product of our parentsí love) look like a


I have never felt like a failure. Despite every time I am disgusted with myself,

frustrated with my attitude, and as unsure and as unconfident as I have been

with myself, I have never felt like a failure. I guess I have never based my

worth on my parents. And I guess that, as far as the love of parents goes, I

have never known quite what itís supposed to be.

I have never felt like a failure, but Dawsonís little monologue did make me

think about something similarly related. Our parents are supposed to be our

primary examples of love. So what happens when they really arenít? How are

we to ever know what love is supposed to be? Can we re-learn? Can we somehow

be taught another way?

I think the closest human equivalent to Godís love is the love of parents.

There is some sort of third party that exists between a husband and a wife that

can not operate independently. It is hard to really describe, especially

since I have never known it, or really witnessed it, but there is something

there. It doesnít abide in the man or the woman, but only in the teaming of

them. That is why marriage and family are so important. I donít think that

divorce is wrong in the sense that it legally separates a couple, divorce is

wrong because it divides this divine relationship. The legal divorce I donít

believe is necessarily wrong because, at least as I have seen, while a couple

can be ďlegallyĒ married, there was no divine relationship to begin with.

I love my parents. My mom is one of the most amazing people I have ever known,

if not the most amazing. I donít know where I could possibly be without her.

She has been the most loving person that I have ever been in contact with, and

there is no doubt that she would do anything for me and my sister. However,

there is only so much that one person can do.

I probably get along with my dad more now that I have ever gotten along with

him. We are very amiable toward each other, and get along quite well.

However, he has never been a father. While my parents were together, we didnít

get along at all. He probably tried to be a father, at least in his mind, but

I never saw it. And I know that he never knew what it was like to have a

father either.

So I see myself in the same situation as my dad. He grew up without a real

father, and I know how he turned out. He is always angry. He is never happy.

And he always wants to please everyone except his family. I donít know if

he takes them for granted, or what. I could never do that.

On one hand, I am nothing like my dad. Our personalities are polar opposites,

and wellÖ everything about us is basically polar opposite. But we still grew

up the same way. Neither of us experienced a real family. I have seen,

directly, the way that someone without this relationship grows and tries to

establish his own. I am a product of that. He failed miserably. I guess our

main difference is that I had a loving mom.

So I am scared. I am so willing to love, but I am afraid I donít know how.

My dad didnít experience love as a child, and when he had a family he did all

the wrong things. I grew up without that idea of family love, and how am

I to learn it now? I know that I can learn from God, but is it just something

that seeps inside of me and begins to permeate my being? I have seen people

overcome this. I have seen people in good relationships who didnít grow up with

them. How did they know what to do? It surely isnít intuitive, right?

Then family wouldnít be so importantÖ

I want someone to lead by example. As devoted as I am to God, his love is

still more abstract. His love is so amazing, that I canít even begin to describe

it, but as far as how I am supposed to love, I have had no physical example.

This must be the primary source of my inactivity. I should have faith that

I will know what to do. I know I can be an amazing father. I just wish I had

an example. A human example. I think I am so afraid that I wonít know how

to love, that I donít want to risk destroying anything. I suppose I have to

walk by faith on this one. It is so easy to just follow somebodyís lead, but

I donít really have a guide. I feel like I am wandering about blindly

sometimes. I am forced to turn to God. I suppose that, in the long run, this

will be infinitely better, but its hard for now. Thatís why itís so hard to

tell people how I feel. Even the most amazing people. This is probably also

why I am shy. Especially around the most amazing people.

I know I am growing. I am opening up. I know that I am changing. Especially

right now. I suppose thatís the reason why I am so hopeful. If I am growing,

then itís all Godís work. And if it is Godís work, then there must be a plan.

And I get glimpses of what I think the plan is, and thatís why I am hopeful.

Even if I am entirely wrong. I hope I am not wrong.