the end of a month

It's the end of February, which means I've been living back in Centerville for a month now. It's had its highs and lows, to be sure, but I'm still confident this move was the best idea. It is pointless to be stuck in a situation where you're head-over-heels for a girl who isn't attracted to you for various reasons. It is pointless to remain in a state of drowning and suffocating, in a state of unimaginable (though understandable) pain of feeling not good enough, unlovable, etc. It's strange how the simplest disappointments in life can rupture a person's heart and thrust that person into an ocean of strangled and disjointed self-perception. Some days I think about her "in that way," and some days I don't. Some days I'm tempted to selfishly sever the friendship for my own sake, knowing that it could pave the way for healing; and some days I selfishly want to continue in the friendship because it means so much to me.

I'm hoping this next month will be better. I turn 23. That's not too exciting. I probably won't be in Cincinnati till maybe the end of March. Finances just keep getting tighter and tighter. A new biochemical cycle is starting, warping my emotions. Hopefully that won't last too long. On the plus side, it's been great reconnecting with friends whom I haven't seen since I moved down to Cincinnati. Pat Dewenter, Pat and Ashlie Hague, and hopefully Chris, too. March could be good. Or bad. If history repeats, it will be bad. History is cyclical, as the writer of Ecclesiastes said, and for the past five and a half years, it's just been cycles of "Bad" vs. "Not so bad." And then when I think it can't get worse, it does. But that's how life is. Dewenter and I saw "Up in the Air" today. We both really liked it. My parents hated it because it wasn't a happy ending. But I like movies that don't have happy endings, because happy endings are so rare in life.

Someone once said, "Life is happiness interspersed with moments of suffering." Maybe my perception is wrong, or maybe it's just because I enjoy the gift of physiological depression, but my own take on the matter is: "Life is suffering interspersed with moments of happiness." And disliking movies without happy endings is comparable to turning a blind eye to the world around us. Movies with happy endings are so enjoyable to many because they offer a sense of escapism. But as I told my mom, "I'd rather face life for what it is than pretend it's something it's not just so I'll feel better."

the dayton days: IV

Mom & Aunt Teri in the igloo!

Monday. I woke to quiet rains and a gentle blanket of mist. I drove down to Cincinnati on a whim, hung out with Ams, Jessie, Tony, Mandy, and Sa-Rah in the C.C.U. Student Life Center. I had a crush on her a year ago, and she was shocked. We cuddled on the sofa for a bit and then I joined Mandy, Rob, and Gambill at the Hoos Apartment for good coffee and conversation. I was going to stay later to see Sarah but decided against it. I'm doing good at eradicating my feelings for her, and I don't want to thwart that. I got home around 5:30 and Mom fixed dinner. Sarah called me, sick with mono. I hope Billy gave it to her.

Tuesday. My phone wouldn't turn on this morning, so I took it to the Verizon store at the Mall and they fixed it. Mom & Aisa had the Sr. High Girls study. They celebrated Sabrina's birthday. Pizza, cake and ice cream. Quite detrimental to my weight loss. It was a pajama party, too, so that was weird. Dylan and I went to Centerville Starbucks and I ordered a decaf triple shot and the barista gave me four. "Way too much caffeine," I joked. She just stared at me.

Wednesday. I spent the day looking for jobs and writing. Mom came home and I fixed usdinner. Sarah texted me, saying she's excited about seeing me tomorrow. I'm excited, too. Dylan, Tyler and I met up at the Centerville Starbucks and shared lots of laughs.

Thursday. I made coffee, showered, and took applications to Starbucks (Mad River and Spring Valley). From there I drove down to Cincinnati. I picked up Jobst and we hung out till about 5:00. Sarah came home, and I started taking shots. 10-12. A hefty number. I got quite drunk. It was so good to see her, and we laughed so hard. Over the past few weeks, I haven't thought about her too much. But seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, spending three hours with her... Well, I definitely still like her. More than I thought I did. She took me over to Mandy's, and she had to pull over so I could puke all over the curb. When I got to the Hoos Apartment I got sick again and passed out in Rob & Mandy's bed. Around 12:30 Ams showed up and took me back to the Lehman House. I passed out in my bed (it's still there, have been using Grandma's bed), wishing I were sober and in my bed at home. Home has become Dayton now. The transition: complete.

Friday. I woke around 7:00 with a splitting hangover and saw Sarah off to work. I slept till 10:00 and went to C.C.U., saw Tony, Jessie, and Sa-Rah, who were all at Mandy's last night (I barely remember it). Sa-Rah was made at me for being drunk last night. Jessie was just glad I didn't have too bad of a hangover. I ran by NAPA on the way home, an errand for Dad. I napped till Mom got home from work, and we went to I.G.A. and fixed pasta for dinner. I started to feel sick again, so I took a nap. Then Aunt Teri got here and woke me up. I felt better. It started snowing again, but only a couple inches. A snow plow got stuck in our driveway and a tow-truck pulled it out. There's a two-foot ditch where its back wheels got stuck spinning in the mud. Sa-Rah called me, asked how I was feeling, and we talked for a bit. She's not mad anymore. Mandy called me, asked if I wanted to come back down to Cincinnati to play drinking games with her and Katie. The thought of more alcohol just made me feel sick.

Saturday. Sarah went out and got trashed at the bar last night, called me in the middle of the night ranting and railing about Billy. No crime in drinking, but when she's with Steph and the Hamilton crowd, she tends to make bad decisions. I urged her to be smart but she just hung up on me. I went back to sleep until 9:00 and fixed cofee for me and Aunt Teri. Sarah called from work at Tri-Health, told me, "Stephanie, Erika and I just hung out at her place. I didn't make any bad decisions." She talked about her issues, like being attracted to jerks. The root cause is probably her dad being an ass and fucking her up. Dylan and Tyler came over and we fixed Mac & Cheese for lunch. They left around 3:00, and Ams came up and our family went north to celebrate Grandma B.'s birthday with a spaghetti dinner. I ate waaay too much. When we got home Ashlie called me, asked if I wanted to see The Crazies with her and Hank. Absolutely I did! So we saw it and went back to their apartment and caught up. They have an apartment on Main Street here in town. A nice place. 

Sunday. Aunt Teri decided to vacuum this morning at 7:30 AM, waking me from my slumber on the sofa. I went to church. Dad did communion. Dewenter came over after church, and we hung out for a few hours and then saw the movie "Up in the Air." Good stuff. Mom, Dad, Aunt Teri, Grandma & I had Marion's Pizza for dinner. Chris called, wanting to hang out, but I had no gas. Now I'm off to sleep: another week of job huntin' and living off the seams of my pants.

the character of those reformed by God

Thought Life: Men, women and children who are spiritually transformed naturally think about God—He is never out of the mind! They love to dwell upon God and his character: His power, His love, His mercy, His grace, His wonder, etc.; they adore God in nature, in history, in His Son and in the church. Those transformed by God are “God-intoxicated” (Acts 2:13, Ephesians 5:18); no one has a stronger sense of reality and practicality than they do, and their minds are filled with biblical expressions of God’s nature, God’s actions, and God’s plans for them in His world. Those who are transformed by the Spirit naturally do not dwell on evil; it’s not a big thing in their thoughts, and they are sure of its defeat. Since their minds are transformed by God, they instinctively embody Philippians 4:8; they are positive, realistically so, based upon the nature of God as they know it.

“Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse.” – Philippians 4:8

Feelings: These people are full of insanely deep love, love lots of good thing and they love people, love their life, love who they are, and are thankful for their life—even though it may contain many difficulties, persecution, even martyrdom. They receive life and all it contains as God’s gift, or at least as His allowance, where they will know His goodness and greatness and go on to live with Him forever in paradise. Joy and peace ride shotgun even in the hardest of times—even when suffering unjustly. They are confident and hopeful and do not indulge thoughts of rejection, failure, and hopelessness because, simply, they know better. When they do fall into sin, they don’t wallow in guilt forever, but rather take on the joy of their salvation, confessing their sins and gratefully taking the forgiveness of Christ (John 1:9).

Will (spirit, heart): They really are devoted to doing what is good and right; their spirit and heart are habitually attuned to doing good, just as the mind and emotions are honed in to God. They are paying special attention to rightness, to kindness, to goodwill, and they are purposefully knowledgeable about life, about what people need, about how to do what is right and good in appropriate ways. Wisdom sleeps in their bed. They do not think of themselves first, do not focus on what they want, and actually they care very little about getting their own way. Servant hood, self-surrender, crucifying the sinful nature and radiating the Spirit nature, and neighborly love are natural for them. Abandoned to God’s will, they do not struggle and deliberate as to whether they will do what they know to be wrong; really, they do not hesitate to do what they know is right. Doing right becomes so natural to them that they do it instinctively and even without knowing they’re doing it; now sin looks horrible and unappetizing and it is something they honestly try to avoid out of hatred for it. It is harder for them to sin than it is for them to practice righteousness.

Body: They are poised to do good without thinking, do not automatically move into what is wrong, even if doing good is contrary to resolves and intentions, before they can think to not do it; it is no longer true that their “spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:41); they know this statement of Jesus is not an irreversible condition of humanity, but a sickness to be healed. They do not allow themselves to be imprisoned by the memories of their past life, are not trapped by their past actions, and they avoid paths of temptation. The bodies of these people even look different: there is a freshness about them, a kind of quiet strength, a transparency. They are rested and playful in a bodily strength that is from God. Yes, the Spirit has brought them to life in more ways than one.

Social relations: Those transformed by God are socially transparent; because they walk in goodness, they have no use for darkness, and achieve real contact or fellowship with others, especially other apprentices of Jesus. They do not conceal their thoughts and feelings (nor do they impose them on everyone), and do not try to manipulate and manage others. They do not go on the attack or on the hunt, intending to use or hurt others; they are completely noncondemning, while at the same time they do not participate in evil—patient and joyful nonparticipation They do not reject or distance themselves from the people who may be involved in evil situations; they know how to “love the sinner and hate the sin” gracefully and effectively. As Christ spent time with the people, that is how they spend time with the people.

Soul: As one comes to know these people—though those who know only the human powers of the flesh will never be able to understand them (1 Corinthians 2:14)—you see that all of the above is not just at the surface: it is deep and it is effortless, it flows. They do not try to have a renovated being, they are a renovated being. This is the outcome of spiritual formation in Christlikeness—not perfection, but a person whose soul is whole: a person who, through the integrity of the law of God and the direction of the Gospel and the Spirit, has a restored soul; every aspect of his or her being will function as God originally intended. That is the keynote of spiritual transformation.

on drunkenness

When people get drunk and do something stupid (i.e. make out with someone or have sex with them), the person generally says, "That was just me being drunk. I would never do that if I were sober." I believe there's truth to that statement, but I believe that there's also a bit--if not a lot--of dishonesty there, too. People wrongly believe that becoming drunk leads to making bad decisions. It does. But they wrongly assume that the reason they make the bad decisions is just because they're drunk. Drunkenness is given the effect of making a person do stuff that is totally out-of-character for them. And when shame hits them (perhaps along with a very nasty hangover), the person comforts himself by saying, "I was drunk. That's really not who I am." This is foolishness.

Yes, drunkenness does often lead to people making stupid decisions. But it's not because drunkenness holds some mystical power over the person, making them do and say things that are out-of-character for them. Drunkenness simply lowers or altogether eliminates inhibitions. A drunk person will say or do things he or she wouldn't do under normal (i.e. sober) circumstances, maybe because they would be afraid of the social stigma, or acknowledge the consequences, or realize it would be inappropriate. In the drunken state, all such inhibitions are lowered. When a person does something stupid (like having sex with a total stranger), then that person is simply showing the nature of their heart. Let me explain.

Because drunkenness lowers inhibitions, it enables people to act totally how they are without any concern for what others may think. When a person gets drunk and has sex with someone, it shows the condition of their heart: in this case, it may be a heart that is totally focused on gratifying the needs of the self, or a heart that bathes in adultery. In a sober state, the person may not do this. In a drunken state, the inhibitions are gone, so the "real person" shows through. Jesus (and John Locke, though Jesus is more reputable) said that the condition of a person's heart is seen in that person's actions. With inhibitions lowered, the person's heart is "free" to act however it pleases. Drunkenness doesn't lead to stupid decisions; it leads to the heart manifesting itself without worry of outside consequences.

A lot of people who sleep around when they're drunk will say they do it because they're drunk. No, it's because their heart is bent on gratifying their fleshly desires. Their heart is really selfish, greedy, and indifferent to others. I know of many people who get drunk--who get totally hammered--and who would never have sex with someone. These people may do other stupid things, but I know a handful who when they get drunk just lament to the state of poverty, or rant on and on about theology and philosophy. The hearts of these people are not focused so much on satisfying their sexual urges but upon other things, be it good or bad.

This is something I've been thinking about for the last month. Two friends and I had a long conversation about being drunk and acting stupid. My friend said, "Being drunk makes you do stupid stuff that you're ashamed of later." And I agreed with her. But as I thought about it more and more, I came to a different conclusion: that being drunk reveals to us and to others the true nature and condition of our hearts. And often it shows us that our hearts aren't as great as we think they are.

it finally came in the mail

on friendship

Dylan, Tyler and I went to Starbucks this evening, and while there we reminisced on the "good old days." We talked about how I had a four-year, head-over-heels crush on a girl Tyler ended up dating for three years. We talked about all the youth trips we went on with our church, all the great experiences and the not-so-great experiences (i.e. Tyler being attacked by a boy in the youth group and Dylan then lashing the boy with the dangerous end of his belt). We talked about how Dylan never really got along with my other friends--Chris, Dewenter, and Hague--and how, while he couldn't stand Pat back in the day, now they really get along. We talked about how everyone changes and everything changes likewise. We ended up being friends with the people we didn't expect to be friends with, and the friendships we thought we'd have forever ended up being dead-end friendships as people went their different ways. We talked about the emptiness of high school, how, though we viewed it as such a critical time in our lives, it ended up not being so. We hardly talk to anyone from high school, except for ourselves. Thinking about the past forces you to think about the future. You'll become better friends with people you don't know, and sometimes your best friendships will dissolve to nothing. That's how it goes, though. Some people say the best friendships last forever. That's not true. Sometimes the best things in life are only temporary; since when do we measure the value of something by its quantity (i.e. length of time) over its quality (i.e. how good it actually is)? Sure, some friendships do last for the rest of your life. But the friendships will change in their nature, evolving as the people in them evolve as well.

my favorite thai

I went down to Cincinnati for a couple hours yesterday. I had to pick up some stuff from the house and decided to hang out with a few people before heading back to Centerville. My sister and I got coffee, and then I hung out with Mandy, Tony, and Jessie. I called my favorite Thai, whom I hardly ever see, and she came down and hung out with us. She said, "I am really comfortable around you guys. I can be myself." I had a crush on her a year and a half ago. She found out and thought it was hilarious. I talked her into cuddling with me for a photograph, and then when Jessie tried to take the picture she tried to hide. She hates getting her picture taken. Ha. I'm going back down Thursday, because she is going to Israel over C.C.U.'s spring break, and she's having a "going away" party. Jessie, Tony, Rob, Mandy, Deshay, and Gambill will all be there. It should be pretty great.

the dayton days: III

Dylan: Spring Valley SBux

President's Day. Ten inches of snow fell for twelve hours throughout the morning and evening. There's a level 3 emergency, which means that no one's allowed on the roads. If you're caught on the road, you'll be ticketed and then shot. Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky were hit harder: C.C.U. shut down, the roads were a wreck, and Ams and Sarah were snowed in (at least I have Maebe with me now!). My day's plans with Dylan were consequently ruined. Aunt Teri and Uncle Bill couldn't leave, though no complaining about that. No one left the house all day, and that damned cabin fever set in. Aunt Teri, Mom and I built an Igloo and had lots of fun. They were skeptical at first. I was up till 1 AM working on 36H2.

Tuesday. Mom had work off today. I woke at 10:00 on-the-dot and made coffee in the French Press for Bill and myself. The roads cleared up, and Aunt Teri and Uncle Bill headed back to Lexington. I made a tiny igloo for Maebe and put her inside. She just tried to burrow into the snow. Dylan came over, took a PTO Day, and we went to Spring Valley and talked about evangelism, bearing fruit, corporate church responsibility, women in ministry, post-millennialism, annihilationism, and PETA with their "naked congresses." One of the baristas, a guy named J.J., introduced himself: "You're friends with Abby!" Dylan and I went to Chic-fil-A and then back home, and we revamped the big igloo with icicles. We ate dinner, played Mario-Kart on the Wii, and once he left I took a hefty dose of NyQuil and passed out.

Wednesday. I spent the morning cleaning and writing, and then I went to Spring Valley SBux (Starbucks, duh) for an espresso shot. A bunch of annoying high school girls were there, studying for the A.C.T. I picked up dinner for Mom & Dad and spent the evening writing. Jess Lynn will be at one of the local Starbucks this Friday. I'm gonna go visit her. 

Thursday. I dreamt that I was at the Mall with two really cute girls. I like these dreams, because they remind me that Sarah is NOT the end of the world for my romantic aspirations. I went to Starbucks and ordered a double shot and read a book on common fiction writing mistakes. Honing my art. I told Jess Lynn that I'm putting her in the story as the main character's future wife. She likes the idea. I helped Dad hammer nails out of boards and load them into his van. Jess Lynn called me sobbing: her car broke down in Oakwood and her father had to go to the hospital (he's okay). And she's not going to be able to go to Italy as hoped. I'll see her tomorrow.

Friday. I dreamt Jess Lynn and I were boating off the coast of Italy when our boat capsized, nearly drowning us. I fixed a chicken quesadilla for lunch and when Dad got home we went to Waffle House for dinner. I went to the Centerville Sbux. Jess Lynn was filling in there, came all the way from Richmond. She was happy to see me but kinda distant. I ordered two decaf espresso shots, sat down with my laptop, did some writing, ran by Kroger for NyQuil, said goodbye to Jess Lynn, and headed home.

Saturday. Too much NyQuil last night made me sluggish all morning. I went to DLM to buy groceries for Mom and the young cashier flirted with me hardcore. I went to Spring Valley and got a double shot and read a book on discovering your writing style and perfecting it. Mom, Dad and I ate dinner at a Mexican restaurant in Franklin, and then we picked up some stuff from Drug-Mart. Back home I did some more writing.

Sunday. I went to Southwest Church this morning, the first I've been there in over a year, I think. Dewenter came over and we talked about all our girl problems. Dylan and Tyler joined us at the house, and we watched "I Am Legend" and played Mario-Kart for a bit. Ams was supposed to come up but postponed it till next Saturday. I spent the evening writing, cleaned my room, researched floorplans for a house I'm going to build in Ketchikan, Alaska. Ha. I wish. No, if I ever build a house, it'll be around here, amidst family and friends.

i loathe insomnia

I went to bed at 11:00 and lied awake until 3:30. I then decided to wake up and eat, hoping a full stomach would make me tired. Nope. I took four sleeping pills and drank some Nyquil around 1:30. Still nothing. Perhaps I just have too much on my mind.

Today (well, yesterday) was a good day. I got a much-needed haircut, fixed a delicious quesadilla for dinner, enjoyed a double-shot as Starbucks (maybe that has something to do with this insomnia), and ate dinner with the parents at a Mexican restaurant two towns over. I had a chicken baked in vodka. It sounds gross, but it tasted delicious.

Tomorrow (well, today) I'll be going to Southwest Church for the first time in over a year. I'll be leaving the house in approximately five hours. Then I'm hanging out with my friends Dylan and Tyler, and then in the evening hanging out with Dewenter. Amanda may be in town, which would be cool.

Now I'm going to try to go to sleep.
Unsuccessfully, I'm sure.

36 Hours Revision, II

My original version of "36 Hours" received many, many great reviews. It also received many bad reviews. I posted the reviews in this blog some time ago (see the post on January 14, 2009). I'm thankful for all the negative reviews I've received, especially the ones where the critics expounded upon what was wrong in the book. In my rewriting, I am dealing with the glaring obvious problems of the book, such as the lack of character depth and development, the jagged story-telling (I'm making the scenes more fluid), the difficulty in understanding what is happening (utilizing the style of Hemingway, I am making the writing simpler and less infused with unnecessary adjectives), and the overall striking misspellings and poor grammar. I've developed immensely as a writer since 2004 (compare the original "36 Hours" to my 2009 publication "Dwellers of the Night", and you'd never guess they came from the same author), and I'm enjoying using my new skills and my new style in the rewriting of "36 Hours."

The most difficult task has been figuring out how to add more material in the third part of the book, which is quite anemic compared to the other two. This is due to laziness in writing the original. I've developed several extra scenes to incorporate and have worked extensively on a new direction for two of the characters (the two main characters, Austin and Hannah). I think this new direction is haunting, chilling, prophetic. I'm excited to write it. I spent an hour at Starbucks this evening filling pages with notes and scribbles, and soon I'll be able to flesh it out on paper. I've also been developing a parallel story set in the present (fifteen, twenty years after the main events) that will enable readers to see what happened to Austin after his ordeal; and not only what happened to Austin, but to the world as well.

As of right now I am 253 pages into the book. I just finished Chapter 20. In the original copy, Chapter Twenty is at 250 pages. So it would seem that through all my editing and revising, I have only added three pages. Keep in mind that the print in the new version is smaller, and the margins are wider; I've probably already added about thirty, maybe forty pages. I'm also going to be redoing the introductory material (the days prior to the main events) to make them more interesting.

I'm really excited about it, and I hope my readers are, too. At first I just started rewriting it as something to do, but this book holds so much potential that it's difficult to not be excited.

a simple life

I live a very simple (albeit jobless) life. I generally wake around 9 or 10:00. I do a quick fifteen-minute workout to help my body wake up, and I finish the job with a cup of French pressed coffee. By this time it is around 10:00 or 10:30. I spend the morning looking for jobs, filling out applications, calling places back, etc. By noon it is lunch-time and I do my main strength-training workout. Depending on the day I work my arms/chest or abs/legs. I eat a high-protein lunch (if I had an egg and toast for breakfast, then I eat lunch). I then shower and shave and get dressed, and I go to the Starbucks five minutes down the road and order a double-shot espresso in-house, and I sit down and I write in my notebook. Sometimes I'm writing about theological matters, sometimes writing about scripture (trying to figure it out), and sometimes I work on one of the three stories I'm writing. Once my drink is finished and my wrist hurts, I get up and return home. I'll spend the next hour or two reading, writing on my laptop, or playing Wii. When Mom gets home from work, she generally takes a nap. Before she wakes up, I get started on dinner. Usually something healthy (today I fixed boiled mussels; but Mom and Dad don't like mussels, so I had to go and pick them up some fried chicken). After dinner I will generally spend my evening hanging out with a friend, doing some more writing, contemplating life, journaling, watching television, or reading.

Some days, though, are exciting. Tomorrow, for example, I'm going to the library. I am going to bed early tonight so I can be fully rested for that adventure.

I really do enjoy the simple life. I just wish I had a job so that the simplicity could be enjoyed with, say, a shot or two of bourbon every night. I do enjoy bourbon. And I wish I had a good job so I could live my simple life in my own apartment. But that time will come.

we built an igloo

Dylan came over today. We went to Starbucks and drank coffee and talked about evangelism, missiology, bearing fruit, corporate church responsibilities, women in ministry, post-millennialism, and annihilationism. We went back to my place and built a six-feet tall, fifteen-feet-wide igloo in the eight inches of snow. We took icicles dangling from the roof and drove them into the igloo like spikes. You can't say it doesn't look cool.

36 Hours Revision, I

It's midnight. And this is the latest I've been up in a long time (excluding last night, thanks to a long drive back from Cincinnati). I made the unfortunate mistake of deciding to finish revising a chapter of "36 Hours" before bed. I wrote 15 pages and saved the document and closed it. But I'm still thinking about it. It's currently at 200 pages. The original book was around 300-350 pages, if I remember correctly; the revised edition--with smaller print and wider margins--will be around 450-500 pages. At first I just wanted to reformat it, but I was so disgusted with the writing that I kept making changes. And then I decided to just rewrite it all. The changes are immense.

First, as mentioned, I've changed the font size and margin width, along with the font type (from Times New Roman to Palatino Linotype).

The perspective, originally 1st-person, is now 3rd person; I did this because I am more comfortable with 3rd person, and 3rd person deals with some of the weak characterization thanks to my poor use of 1st person.

I am entirely rewriting every script of what I have written. Reformatting paragraphs, updating dialogue, focusing more on characterization, strengthening the fluidity of movement, and making basic editorial changes.

I'm adding more scenes. Each chapter of the book represents a single hour in the 36-hour time-line of the story. The entire book is divided into three parts: the first 12 hours, the second 12 hours, the third 12 hours. The first 12 hours, in the original, banked out at around 100 pages. The third 12 hours came to about 35-50 pages. This is because I got lazy and just wanted to finish the story. While I'm not adding much to the first twelve hours (and meager additions to the second twelve hours) (minus flashbacks which will help strengthen character development), I will be adding about fifty or sixty pages to the last third of the book.

I'm adding a parallel story. The original book was told in past tense, and the main storyline (taken from the original) is still in past tense. The parallel story, which is much shorter, inserted between each third of the book, takes place in the present, and will be told in present tense--about fifteen, twenty years after the events of the main story. This will allow me to fill in some missing gaps, clear up some cliff-hangers, add more suspense, and really deal with some of the major plot issues of the original story (such as the rapid expansion of the virus; biologically speaking, it's impossible; but I'm dealing with that in the revision).

Basically, it's going to be a whole new book. I'm honestly ashamed of "36 Hours", the 2004 version. I wrote it when in high school. Now I'm out of college and my writing style has completely changed, reminiscent of Hemingway and McCarthy. Hopefully with this 2010 version, it'll be decent enough for my tastes (though we're all our own worst critics). I want this version to be the one that is remembered, and, unfortunately, the publishing company I use won't discontinue the original because they're making too much profit. Which sucks for me and my reputation (lots of people love "36 Hours," but an equal amount absolutely hate it, and for good reasons).

Anyways. It's ten minutes past midnight.
I'm going to try and get some sleep.
And not think about things.

the dayton days: II

amos puffin' that pipe

Monday. I woke at 10:00, worked out, and did some more writing on 36H2. I went to Spring Valley Starbucks and Abby was working there. She went to C.C.U., we worked at the Hilltop together. She made my coffee and we talked and I sat down and wrote about what it means to love God. I was going to go to Indiana to see Jess Lynn but she's sick with kidney stones so that fell through. I fixed Mom, Dad and I chicken, rice, and vegetables for dinner. I chatted with Gambill and Brette C. before bed. We're supposed to get lots of snow tomorrow.

Tuesday. I dreamt that Sarah and I were making out with our shirts off. It snowed another 6" overnight, which sucks because I was going to go down to Cincinnati and hang out with Amos. We rescheduled for Thursday. Mom & I shoveled the driveway. Dylan came over, and we went to Spring Valley and discussed theology. We went to DLM and made burgers for dinner. I had a headache so I went to bed early. Sarah told me she's done with Billy. He's giving her the same treatment Maggie gave me. Sarah lamented being hurt by him and I fought the urge to quip, "Now you know how I feel." She did hurt me. Really badly. But I still want to be there for her, because she has so few friends. I had thoughts of her all day, imagined us happy together, her looking at me the same way she looked at Billy that night. I imagine her kissing me and cuddling with me. But I wasn't good enough for her, just like I wasn't good enough for Julie, Courtney, and Karen. The cycle continues unabated.

Wednesday. Late last night Sarah admitted that the main reason she didn't date me wasn't because we lacked "chemistry" but because of my physical appearance. That made me feel just swell. "Kick that bitch to the curb," Mandy growled. I finished the first third of 36H2. I shoveled the driveway and went down to Cincinnati. I picked up Amos and we went to The Anchor and drank coffee and smoked our pipes. We went by C.C.U. and two cute girls kept eyeing me. Jessie and her roomie Brette were playing in the snow. We went up to President's Hall and chatted with Jobst and Dan Dyke. We went to Kroger and then to the Lehman House for burgers and fries with Ams. We went back to his apartment and hung out for a while and then I went back by the Lehman House and Sarah was there hanging with Katherine. We hung out and smoked cigarettes and laughed. "Just like old times!" she said. I left around 10:00 and was back in Dayton and in bed by 11:00.

Thursday. Sarah complained on Facebook about how there are so few good guys out there and how she can never find them. It pissed me off. Mandy saw it, and I had to keep her from posting something mean on Sarah's page. I went to the library with Mom, and we had spaghetti for dinner. Dad and I went to Drug-Mart and I went to bed pretty early.

Friday. I spent the day watching TV, cleaning, working on 36H2. Aunt Teri and Uncle Bill came up. Fun times. Sarah is going out to Bar 127 tonight. Same place she hooked up with Billy. When I was there, the guys were crawling all over her. I know I shouldn't worry. Not because she'll make good decision--"Sarah's stupid," Ams said, "and she's going to keep making stupid decisions."--but because I know that I shouldn't think about her anymore, that I need to move on. So I just drank NyQuil, fell into a numbless stupor, and passed out.

Saturday. Sarah texted me all night long. Billy wasn't texting her, but he was texting her friend Stephanie, whom she was there with. Steph admitted that she and Billy had a thing going on. Billy told Steph that they were "soul mates." Sarah spent a long time in the bar's bathroom bawling her eyes out. I woke at 2:00 AM and spent an hour texting her. I called her in the morning, her shift at Tri-Health. She had a bad hangover (two beers and six shots) and she said that I was right all along, that Billy was just using her. Obviously: in the car on the way to our house that god-forsaken night he kept talking about Steph and how much he cared for her. After our talk I went to Spring Valley and got coffee and worked on a few new chapters for 36H2. Dylan, Tyler and I went to see the movie "Wolfman." We went our separate ways, and Mom and Aunt Teri got us pizza and we watched "Couple's Retreat." It just made me think about Sarah. I'm done. Fucking DONE. Done worrying about her, caring so much. You care for someone so much it hurts, and I'm done with that. She'll continue in her ways. I moved to get away from her, but my mind and heart have not yet detached. Her life, where it's going, no matter how much I care about her, IT'S NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY. She'll keep living her life, making stupid decisions, and she'll be trapped in her misery. And IT'S NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY. I have served her, catered to her, sacrificed for her. I cared more about HER than I cared for myself. And when she hurt me so deeply, so viciously, when she flaunted it before my eyes and eviscerated my fucking heart, it showed all her words of "care" and "compassion" to be meaningless. I'm done caring about her so much because she doesn't deserve that from me. I'm done loving her so deeply because she doesn't deserve my love. I'm going to do everything in my power to forget her, to continue with my life, to rebuild it and reshape it. People told me, "A day will come when you forget Julie." (My 2nd girlfriend) I didn't believe them. But that day came. And when I lost Courtney, they said the same thing, and they were right. A day will come when I forget Sarah. But not until I realize--really realize--that I deserve SO MUCH BETTER.

Valentine's Day. Jessie showed me a quote by Mother Theresa that basically said, "What people do with their lives isn't your responsibility." Ironic? I slept 12 hours last night. I drove down to Cincinnati. Sarah was with her mom and Ams went to Dayton, so I had the Lehman House to myself. I watched a movie--"The Day After," about nuclear war--, read a book, "Prey" by Michael Crichton, and worked on 36H2. At 7:30 I went to house church at the Hoos Apartment. Mandy fixed chicken curry. We talked about Christian ecumenicism, and it was a good crew: Andy W., Amos, Rob and Mandy, the Sulzener's, Jessie and Tony. I went to Lehman to see Sarah afterwards. She looked worn out. We smoked cigarettes and talked for about fifteen minutes. Mandy, Jessie & Tony (they're dating now), Amos and I went to The Anchor. I got coffee and Amos had hand-rolled cigars we smoked. We talked about nautical shit. I got home around 2 AM and crashed.

the way it is

Snowed in. My day will be spent reading (I grabbed some good books from the library last week) and writing (the revision of my 2004 novel "36 Hours" is coming along nicely). In the atmosphere of literary enjoyment (reading AND writing), I present you with this chart:

on changing

Jessie showed me this quote by Mama T: "The success of love is in the loving--it is not in the result of loving. Of course it is natural in love to want the best for the other person, but whether it turns out that way or not does not determine the value of what we have done." On Thursday I had a very much-needed conversation with a person who means so much to me. I told her not what she wanted to hear, but what she needed to hear. And she got upset, even though she told me, "It's what I needed to hear." What she does with such information is up to her. If she continues living the kind of life she's living, or whether she changes her life for the better, is not my responsibility. And last night as I was thinking about this--journaling, really--I came to the conclusion that the only person's life I can change is my own. I can prod others towards life-change, I can support others through life-change, I can even do things to promote life-change for others. But in the end, the person who has the control over what their lives look like, over the changes that do (or do not) take place, is the person themselves.

I shouldn't fret and worry about what she's going to do. Whether she's going to move forward or remain stagnant. Some say I care too much about her. But I can't help it. I want the best for her. I really do. I want to see her life amount to something. I want her to enjoy her life and not be stuck in misery. But if she's going to do that, she must make changes. Dr. House said, "Time changes nothing. Action changes things." If she wants a better life, if she hopes for a better life, then her life won't automatically get better. She'll need to make changes--difficult, seemingly impossible changes--in order for her life to change. And I know these are difficult changes and that the road of change is difficult for her, and a sort of complacency and disinterest in change, wallowing in the momentary misery, is a condition humanity suffers; and I don't want her to keep doing the same things, believing the same things, living the same way. But that's not up to me. I should instead focus on myself. Making changes to better my life. Making changes to change my attitude and perspective and outlook on life. Making changes to become the kind of person I want to be, and dare I say it, even the kind of person God wants me to be.

Her life is not in my hands.
If it gets better, that's not my responsibility.
If it gets worse, that's not my responsibility.
My life is, to a certain extent, in my hands.
And if I want things to get better, I can't just WANT it.
I can't even just HOPE for it.
I must CHANGE it.

a basket of peaches

A good weekend is on the horizon. My aunt and uncle are coming up from Kentucky tonight. Tomorrow I'm hanging out with Dylan and Tyler. Sunday I am (hopefully) going down to the Cincinnati to hang out with Rob, Mandy, Amos, Jessie, Tony, and all the other fellas at house church. (Mandy just texted me telling me she's hanging out with Amanda and Jessie, making me jealous that I'm up in Centerville instead of down in Cincinnati; oh well).

I'm 1/3 of the way done with the revision of the original "36 Hours." It's at around 130 pages. I'm going to be adding a lot of stuff at the end, and then adding a parallel story set ten, fifteen years in the future. I'm also telling the story in 3rd person rather than 1st, hoping that deals with some of the weak characterization. In comparing "36 Hours" to "Dwellers of the Night," I can see that "36 Hours" has its biggest strength that of fast-paced action and a continually evolving storyline. "Dwellers of the Night" is more low-key with action but with more emphasis upon characterization and the development of internal themes. I'm really trying to get out of the "zombie" genre (with current works such as "A Dream For Us," "The Boy Who Hoped," "Metamorphosis," and a possible co-authored book with Sarah), but writing about zombies--well, re:writing about zombies--is fun, too. A guilty pleasure, if you will.

I've applied for several jobs but still no takers. The economy is worse here, some say, than it was down in Cincinnati. My next stop? Retail stores. Target, K-Mart, Wal-Mart. I think it's great to have a college degree and work an hourly job for minimum wage. 80,000 dollars well-spent.

The weight loss has been going well. I'm at 164 pounds, and I am making great strides in developing my chest, arms, abs, and legs. I work out for about thirty minutes a day (strength training). I went for an exhausting bike ride last week, but all this snow is keeping me from doing that again. Black ice coats everything. I almost died from an icicle falling from our roof. I wish I had a camera--all three cameras I had access to stopped working within the same week--so I could take pictures of the snow blanketing the ground and snuggled up in the trees, ice covering everything like lace. It's so beautiful, and I can't take any pictures. Sadness.

on wounding and being wounded

They say true friends are the ones who will wound you when you need wounded. The ones who will slap you around when you need slapped around. I have a few friends whom I am close to who will always tell me when I'm doing something wrong or being a jerk. A few friends who will just tell me what I need to hear when it's not what I want to hear. And I've always been fine with that. But when it comes to the point where I need to tell someone what they need to hear and don't want to hear, that's a different story. I care too much about hurting peoples' feelings. Maybe that's it. Or making them mad at me. I don't know. Today I told one of my best friends something she needed to hear, and now there's a great awkwardness between us. It'll fade, I'm sure of that. I just hate these initial moments. When she says, "That's what I needed to hear," but she's upset at the same time--either because you said it or because of what you said. I don't like it.

Yesterday I went down to Cincinnati and hung out with my friend Amos. We went to The Anchor Grill and smoked our pipes, and then we went to the school and walked around and spotted a few students we knew and hung out with them for a bit. We went to the grocery then to the Lehman house and fixed some good eats. We went back to his place and watched TV, and then I went back to the Lehman house to hang out with my sister and Sarah for an hour before heading home. Now I'm back in the groove of applying for jobs and figuring out what--or, rather, trying to figure out--what I want to do with my life. The confusion and mayhem and absolute boredom of unemployment is not enjoyable, especially when you're a person like me: always needs to be active, always doing something. Having an obsessive personality is not good for unemployment.

the dayton days: I

my Dayton Days third place

Monday. I went down to Cincinnati and met up with Kyle. We hung out in his apartment in Restoration. He's the A.R.D. He made popcorn and gave me some winter clothes, including a nice jacket, from a woman at his church. I went to the Hilltop and hung out with Jessie and Mandy. Maggie was there, and that was awkward. No words were exchanged. I went to the Lehman House. I fixed potatoes and Sarah made steak and bought me some bourbon and cleaned up after dinner. Jessie said, "Sarah's never gone out of her way for you. She's obviously trying to win you back." I packed up some more things after dinner, like my hamster, and Sarah was visibly upset. She asked if I wanted to go to the Sunset Pub before I left. I said, "Sure." So we went, and Sarah got a beer and I got a shot of bourbon and we talked about all that's gone down. I told her that if she wants to be with Billy, then she should be. He's definitely better than Keith. We shared some nostalgic laughs and I headed back to the Lehman House. I ended up staying the night after watching "Dumb & Dumber" with her. "You leaving is just as hard as a break-up," she said.

Tuesday. I went with Mandy to the Kenwood Mall and treated me to some espresso from the Tazza Mia kiosk. She asked when I'd be back. I told her probably a couple weeks: "I need time to just zone out, refresh, get my shit together." I went back to Dayton and called Jess Lynn. Mandy K. called to get the scoop on my move. I worked out and cleaned the house and ate dinner. Mom & Aisa led a Sr. High girl's small group at the house, so Dylan and I went to the Rusty Bucket for drinks and browsed Borders across the street. We were walking the aisles and he told me, "You're such a cynic, and I understand why, but I think your cynicism will be broken. I think your perspective will get better." I hope so. He added, "I'm excited to see where your life takes you."

Wednesday. I woke with a headache so I went back to bed. I ate lunch and searched for jobs all afternoon. Fixed a pot roast for dinner. I went over to Dewenter's, and we hung out for a bit. Billy sent me a message online asking me for permission to "talk" to Sarah. WTF?! I moved away to get away from all that shit and then he makes me the one who holds "their future" in his hands. I cursed and swore and tried to decide what to do. Sarah got in the way of my happiness, and I was tempted to make sure he knew that by choosing him, she would be losing a friend. But I love Sarah. I really do. And love isn't love if it isn't sacrifice, if it doesn't hurt. Maybe this is my destiny: to care too much, to sacrifice so much, that I'll always be alone.

Thursday. I dreamt I was dating a pale skinny girl with black hair and hazelnut eyes. I woke and ate breakfast and worked out and applied for jobs. I went on a bike ride and nearly died. I went for a drive to Clearcreek Park where Jess Lynn and I made out and where Courtney and I made love. I went to Starbucks on 741 and drank a coffee while reading. I went home and rewrote the first chapter of "36 Hours" for a revision. It's something to do. I made chicken pot pie for dinner and got groceries for Mom and picked her up a green tea latte from Spring Valley Starbucks but they made it wrong so I went back and flirted with the cute barista and she gave me a coupon for two free drinks. I'll use them tomorrow.

Friday. I woke around 9:00 and had an egg for breakfast. I showered and went to Spring Valley for a skinny latte. It started to snow around noon and Mom and I went out for Chinese and the roads were awful by the time we got back. They're anticipating 3-6". Jess Lynn and I decided we're going to open a restaurant in Alaska and I'm going to catch the fish, lobsters, and crabs and she'll cook them. I spent the evening working on "36 Hours" (we'll dub it 36H2, 'cause it's the second edition, from here on out) and playing Wii. 

Saturday. I told Jess Lynn, "I'm a simple man. And I'm living a simple life. I sleep in peace at night. It's incredible." We got half a foot of snow overnight. Mom and I went to the grocery and she went to a baby shower and I shoveled the driveway clear of snow. Dropped salt on it, too. I got the first seven chapters of 36H2 rewritten. I took a shower, napped for a bit, and I decided to save my Starbucks trip for later in the week. I made a cigarette run and was in bed by 10:00. Cincinnati tomorrow! Seems I can't stay away.

Sunday. Mom and I visited a church this morning. I went down to the Lehman House and Jessie came over. We sat on the sofa and talked and she did homework and I plucked away on my laptop. We went over to the Hoos Apartment and watched the Superbowl and had house church. It was good seeing them and Amos and Tony. At 10:30 I went back to the Lehman House and Sarah was back from her brother's, and we sat in the dining room till about 11:30 and talked. It was good but painful at the same time. I still like her, and she was so pretty tonight. When I got home and settled into bed, I found it so peaceful and serene. There's comfort here in Dayton, and comfort in the distance between us. 

on loving God

I went to Starbucks today and sat down intending to work on a book I've been writing, but all of a sudden I just wrote on the paper, for no apparent reason, "What does it mean to love God?" And I stared at it and I thought, "Hardly anyone knows." Of course, that's not the case. But in western society, the concept of "loving God" falls quite far from what Jesus actually meant. So I've been hammering out an essay (at six pages now) on what it means to love God and what it means to love people (since the two are intricately connected). Basically the first part of the essay (which I'm almost done with) is about how loving God is NOT about having positive feelings towards Him; there are many in the biblical testimony--i.e. David, Jeremiah, Job--who experienced negative feelings towards God but still loved Him. And there are countless many who have "warm" feelings towards God but who do not love Him. I believe that loving God is equivalent to being dedicated/devoted/committed/loyal to Him, and this is manifested in obedience. And in a Christian culture where people shout from the rooftops "I love God!" I wonder how many people actually sit down, examine their lives, and ask themselves if they're being honest in their proclamations. And I wonder how many preachers who talk about "loving God" really define for people what that means.

confessions on a dark night

I'm sitting at home in the utter quiet. It is different. In Cincinnati I fell asleep to the sounds of airplanes and traffic and sirens. Here it is absolute silence. We don't really live "in the country" but we're not in the suburbs, either. I could stand out on the front porch for ten minutes and see not a single car drive by. I really do like it here. Cincinnati has its perks, that's for sure, but it's nice here, too.

Seeing all my great friends last night was fantastic. Rob, Mandy, Jessie, Tony, Amos. We watched the Superbowl and ate delicious (albeit fattening) food and drank soda and played Goldeneye 007 on the outdated but nonetheless exciting N64. I saw Sarah for about twenty minutes. I went by the house and we sat at the dining room table and we talked for a while. It was good. I really do care for her. But it was hard at the same time, because I still like her. It will take some time--who knows how long?--for my feelings for her to fade. I haven't thought about her much over the past week "in that way", but I've dreamed about her almost every night. Not sensual, sexual dreams. Just dreams with her in them. And then seeing her today made my feelings resurface, buried as they were. I must execute them. Behead them, crucify them, poison them. But it's difficult to do that, because the most logical step isn't to distance oneself from the situation but to color up the person in a light that you don't find appealing. And I can't do that very well with Sarah. Firstly, because there's not much NOT to like. And secondly, because doing that would almost be like doing a seek-and-find for all her faults. And that's not a very loving thing to do. But I have made a list that I read every day of reasons we wouldn't work well together. Not bad things, just differences of opinions and lifestyle that would bring an element of conflict into a relationship. But it doesn't help that much, because I know that there's conflict in every relationship, and the reasons we WOULD work--minus the fact that she doesn't feel the same way, which is a pretty hefty requirement--far outweigh the reasons we WOULDN'T work. But, in the end, I need to do something. I hate liking a girl who doesn't like me back. I've been here so many times and I've interpreted it in so many ways that I don't know anymore, I just want it to end.

A blog shouldn't be about "oh, pity me." And I'm not asking for that. I only know of two or three people who read this thing, and they know all this already. I guess I'm just writing it because while this blog began as a sort of online post-it-note of my beliefs and convictions, it's evolved into a telescopic lens that penetrates past my outer shell and into the core of who I am. And these are things that are really going on in my life. Oh, I could write about all the outside stuff: how I'm writing a book and revising another, how I'm doing a Bible study with Dylan, how I'm searching for jobs, how I go to Starbucks every morning to sit and write and think, how I'm a beast at Mario Kart on the Wii, etc. But no one cares. And, really, neither do I. Some people say that if they have it all, life will be great. But life without love is empty. Meaningless. Hopeless. (And, in fact, the primary theme of a book I'm writing, "The Boy Who Hoped.") And even if I were rich and handsome and popular and famous, I would give it all up just for love. Just to hold a woman's hand and see her not repel. To look into her eyes with passion and desire and to see that passion and desire returned. To be vulnerable and shaking and to have her accept that. In the end, being vulnerable and being loved is what I truly want.

superbowl 2010

Jess Lynn and I decided that we are going to move to Alaska and start a coffee shop. They only have one Starbucks in Ketchikan--where I want to move--so there's not much competition. Of course this is just a fantasy and I'll probably never move to Alaska but we all have dreams, right?

Superbowl is tonight. Colts vs. who? I don't know. I'm not a big football fan. But it'll be good spending time with my Cincinnati friends. I'm currently hanging out with Jessie. We're sitting on the couch in the Lehman house and she's on the phone and I'm on here, obviously. I won't be back in the Dayton area till later tonight, but at least I'll be tired and able to sleep without using Nyquil! This coming week should be pretty good and relaxing. I'll probably hang out with friends, continue the job search, unlock more karts on Mario Kart Wii, visit Starbucks, and continue working on the revision of "36 Hours" (I am still selling ten or twenty copies a week, which blows my mind, because I hate the book; but I am rewriting it, reformatting it, tweaking it so I won't be totally ashamed of it; and maybe I can make a few more books off those who really enjoyed it). And I'll keep eating right and working out and the fat will keep coming off and I'll look better and better. Life is good.

the drama's on my heels

I love the fact that I move fifty miles north to escape the drama and somehow it keeps following me around. The guy Sarah likes sent me a message asking for permission to talk to her. He knew what Friday night did to me and now the problem is exacerbated. So I sat there and wondered what to do. Be the good guy that everyone says I am and tell him, "Do what you want"? Ignore it? Be selfish and think of my own emotional hell before Sarah's happiness and tell him not to talk to her?

I told him that people have gotten in the way of my happiness again and again, and I'm not going to get in the way of his happiness. Or Sarah's happiness. So I told him to do what he wants in regards to her.

The reality is, I love Sarah. I really do. I would never tell her that. And I know she doesn't read this, so she'll never know--unless some reader tells her, "Hey, look what Anthony wrote about you!" Several months ago I preached a sermon on biblical love and how love has at its foundation sacrifice. It isn't love if it's not sacrifice, and it isn't sacrifice if it doesn't hurt. I know that if they end up dating it will hurt me. But at least I'm in Dayton now and won't be subjugated to it. I won't have to see it thrust in my face. And I guess this is the most loving thing to do. If she wants to be with him--if he will make her genuinely happy and (of this I am quite skeptical) be good for her--then so be it. And if something happens between them and it gets blown to smithereens and she ends up regretting it, it's not my fault. There's no blood on my hands.