Wtfwjd?

The biggest problem with being awake at nearly 4A.M. is that you wanna write a blog, but fully understand that whatever you write will sound stupid, or worse, sappy emotional, thus catapulting the blog into the depths of triviality (if it has depths) and a scary baggagey, get-the-heck-over-it kind of world of blogging. Pretty soon people stop reading. You start to hate your own blog, and then you abandon it only to return three years later to delete it (unless you are Ben, in which case, you change the url and continue as you were because it never went bad actually, just got forgotten about).

What's even worse is the possibility that you start to write a second paragraph, knowing that if you start a second paragraph, you'll have to finish it. And everyone knows that a paragraph must have approximately 3-5 complete sentences to really be considered a decent paragraph, and everyone knows that an English major would not leave an indecent paragraph hanging out in public for everyone to see unless it was a stylistic decision. But everyone knows that stylistic decisions generally come in quantity, not quality, at 4A.M.

And beyond even subsequent paragraphs, comes the danger of staying awake for even longer. Sure, you may be able to justify catching up on Grey's Anatomy all in one night, even though its not a good show (at least Burke is gone and the Chief race is over), but you cannot really justify staying up even after those three episodes to write a silly little thing.

But you will look up at the clock and realize that even beginning a fourth paragraph, it is still only 4:04A.M. because you've written quickly and you've been rounding up to 4A.M. for the last 15 minutes. And then you will wonder how to shut down you brain and you will think about the desserts you will make tomorrow and the people you will call. You will make a note not to forget to call the new girl at church and to be sure to go get that temp job at the fruitstand even though you really would rather not. And you will think that you miss people who are where ever they are (hallelujah). You will wonder if leaving the country for ten months will answer the questions in your mind... and right when you get there, you will sense yourself slipping into diary mode and try to decide if you should delete everything or just go ahead and post it. You'll read it over, think about it until 4:12A.M. and then just go ahead and post the dumb (ha) thing. You'll try to remember to post something intellectual next time, and wish mac keyboards had the "delete" key that takes out the stuff to the right of the cursor.

Taking to the Couch

What I do: drive grandma to the doctor, wash breakfast dishes, stare at my macbook, play my guitar.

What I don't do: read, socialize, exercise.

What I don't mind not doing: driving to/on campus, parking in structures or meters, paying utilities.


I think I'm somehow getting closer to being able to write a best seller so I don't have to teach the story of Zeus and Io to 15-year-olds for a living.

Last Thursday, guy at the Biola lecture series thing said that our only significance in life is to overcome evil with good. Where and how we do it is another thing entirely.

Response to...

Paul and Eric's conversation, as transcribed on Paul's blog. Eric may name his child "Pooper" until it does something worth being named for. Good call, Eric. I feel like I've given my blog a crap name, too, just because it hasn't done anything to earn much of a name.

I got to feeling a little bad about this. I should care what my blog is called, let the title guide me a little. But in this particular instance, I can't bring myself to care. Therefore, in that not caring, I have validated the title of the blog. So it describes something of my character, my approach to posting, and my feelings about my audience (sorry, audience).

That sort of self-resolving logic makes me think of Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure when they decide to tell the next Bill and Ted to leave the keys in the bushes and then the keys appear.

Now that's good story-tellin'.



Antidote for this week: making the meal off the cover of Sunset magazine.



p.s. I might go to Ireland in October, and then stay until June... or July. Just throwing that out there so you don't fall out of your chair if/when I go. I'll provide more details if it works out.

impressionable

Tonight I went to the first of five lectures from some Biola people who are hanging out in Turlock. I could, potentially, in the future, get credit at Biola for attending these things. The lectures are like Veritas, only instead of going in between classes (really, skipping classes), my parents drive me there, and attend too.

Like I said, attending this series puts me on track towards some certificate, which will most likely get me a better seat in heaven. And even though I rather like my seat in the nosebleed section of heaven, due it's close proximity to the bathroom and water fountain, I really want that certificate. In fact, I want the whole stupid degree. Does anyone know of a blended M.A. program in Theology and Creative Writing?

I'm afraid, even with a degree like that, I could end up writing the advice column for Brio Magazine... and enjoying it.




Antidote for Modesto: the amazement of seeing jr. high friends, not remembering them at first, and then slowly remembering you used hang out on swing sets and gossip about the boys in code.

What Day Is It?

So lately I have been doing contract work for my mom (technically, for the school she works for) and I have tentatively taken a part-time administative job at my dad's church. Basically, I'm doing the same jobs I've done since I was ten-years-old, only now I get paid slightly more and call myself a "freelance administrative and editorial assistant." The idea of working at the church gets the wheels in my head turning a little, but lately I've mostly been a "slug," or so says my mom.

I have spent an unknowable number of hours searching for writing or editing jobs and applying and revamping my resume, which I still think is a little crappy. And I am fairly certain I will never get a job, and I'll have to become a teacher--which, by the way, wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. I just want to choose it, not have it thrust upon me like a giant red dictionary on a small child.

Bethany's wedding was last Saturday and while I take marriage very seriously, seeing my best friend get married made the whole thing look like it wasn't that big of a deal. They are still Bethany and Brennan, same as they were before, only now they always will be Bethany and Brennan. That's a good thing to realize about marriage, I think.

Grad school applications are still lurking in the background of my life, taunting me with their required 30-page portfolios.

Graduating is terrible. I don't recommend it. Today the receptionist at the eye doctor asked if I was still a student or if I was employed. I stared at her for a moment, let her repeat the question and then sighed and shared that I am nothing. I explained, she made reference to her bachelors in art and motioned at the office and wrote down that I'm a temp worker while giving me an understanding one-sided smile. At least living with my parents is fun.

And in case you were curious, I am looking for and applying to jobs all over--but especially the central valley and the central coast.


Antidote for this week: a homemade americano and tapioca, and peaches and strawberries from the fruit stand.