thursday

No adventures to report. I worked an easy 5:30-11:30, watched "Die Hard 2", and accidentally took a nap--these accidental naps are becoming quite commonplace; thankfully I have Nyquil so I can go to sleep at a decent hour following said naps. I spent the evening at work, visiting people and doing some long-overdue writing. I am flirting between different projects in regard to my writing; this evening I worked on the first segment of my in-depth 1 Peter bible study. With the introductory material and 1 Peter 1.1-2 almost out of the way, it's around 28 pages. Shiza. Longer than I wanted, but oh well. It's fascinating material. Aunt Teri and Uncle Bill are in town. Tomorrow I'm going down to Cincinnati, spending the night, and returning Saturday to hang out with a pretty cool girl. Ok, that's all I have. Good night and thanks for your patronage.

wednesday

Last night I dreamed I was part of a crew exploring a deserted island filled with dinosaurs. As we walked across the beach leading to the jungle, a flock of Gallimimus gave chase. We high-tailed it up a grassy hill and jumped over an old fence and crouched in the brambles as they encircled us. One of us, a doctor, had a satchel that started beeping. The Gallimimus got all riled up and started attacking his pack with their beaks, and he was caught underneath and all we could do was watch. It's been a while since I've had a dinosaur dream, so this was well overdue. Oh: Sarah said she dreamt a Tyrannosaurus chased her through the Mall. I guess it's the time of year for such dreams, no?

I worked a princess shift, 1-6:00. The truck came in with the week's supplies, and we unloaded it. Megan has Itunes on her phone, and she played some music and when the Cupid Shuffle came on, we all danced to it in rhythm behind the bar. Classic times, though it doesn't compare to the time we were dancing on the actual bar at the Hilltop. I believe the song was "Superfreak," and Monica and I unleashed. Great times. The rest of my evening crawled by as I watched "Twilight: Eclipse" with Mom and my grandma (who's in town for a while). Now it's off to bed for an early morning. What adventures will Thursday hold? My next post will answer said question.

tuesday

Yesterday Dylan, Tyler and I went out for dinner and beers at The Rusty Bucket. We had nachos as an appetizer and then enjoyed some seared tuna asian wraps. Made me lust for sushi. At the end of the meal I got a nosebleed and had to go outside. How embarrassing. We ended the night with Mario-Kart, and they helped me rearrange some furniture in my room (i.e. we took out the desk; room is much more open now). I worked 6:30-3:00 this morning, and then my friend Leah and I went to Cadillac Jack's. I had a 22 ounce Killian's Red and forwent on dinner. Cut the calories but the alcohol swept through me. I dropped her off at work and then crashed for several hours, woke up feeling sick, had a miniature chicken chimichanga, a hot bath, and went to bed for a little while before watching half of the first Die Hard movie. I meant to go through all of them before Christmas--no Christmas is complete unless it's a Die Hard Christmas--but, thanks to my insanely busy schedule, was unable to do so. I'm trying to make up for lost time. I work a short shift tomorrow, and a short shift Thursday, and Friday night and Saturday morning I'll be in Cincinnati celebrating the New Year's with a few good people. Really looking forward to it. Nothing really contemplative to post today; better luck tomorrow?

the dayton days [47]

this has become all but my home

Monday. I went down to Cincinnati to meet up with Jessie, and we got lunch at Rock Bottom and then watched TV at the Claypole House. Once I returned to Dayton, I got pretty depressed. A usual occurence on cold and dark winter nights. I almost caved into getting McDonald's but instead I had some cereal, did some grocery shopping, and went to bed. 

Tuesday. I worked 5:30-2:00 with a great crew. I did some Christmas shopping at the Mall. Busy as hell, of course. I had a porterhouse steak for dinner paired with mushrooms and potatoes. This is without doubt the winter of marriages: Becky & Joel got married, Kristen S. got married, Jessie & Tony are probably going to get married. Mandy K. is talking about marriage. It makes me feel sick when I think about it. It's what I want, but I can't have it.

Wednesday. I spent the afternoon finishing my Christmas shopping: the Mall, Target, Hobby Lobby, and Office Max. I ran into Mom at the bank and we grabbed Bob Evans for lunch. I wrapped the gifts and had a beer, did some writing. 

Thursday. I worked 5:30-1:30. An eerie mist and freezing rain came in last night, and the morning commute was awful: I could hardly see and the roads were slick as hell. I spent the evening watching movies: "The Substitute" and "Right Next Door." The 2nd was depressing. I got coffee from work for tomorrow morning, made a cig run, and called Dewenter: we're hanging out Sunday.

Christmas Eve. I worked 6-10:30, an easy shift albeit insane. Ams came into town and rode with me to New Carlisle, and we shared some great heart-to-hearts. Lunch and dinner went well. Cate said I was annoying and walked off, haha. I got some books on postmillennialism from Grandma & Grandpa, and we all did our personality quiz: I'm an INFP. A pretty rare personality type, with awkwardness and apathy regarding daily life as key facets. Mom, Dad, Ams & I got bac to the house around 9:00 and had our family Christmas, during which I enjoyed the last of my Great Lakes Christmas Ale (everywhere's sold out). Everyone loved the gifts I got them, but not nearly as much as I loved mine: a Dell Inspiron 1012 netbook. Ah! A dream come true! I knew I was getting it, but still: I'm pumped.

Christmas. More snow overnight. I slept in till 9:00 and headed straight down to Kentucky. I hung out at Uncle Bill & Aunt Teri's for a couple hours before going to Jared's new condo. It's nice. He got a good deal on it. Bill cooked beef wellington for dinner: an excellent meal. We played some games, opened presents, and Ams & I headed out. I dropped her off at her apartment in Price Hill and continued on my way through a nasty snowstorm. 

Sunday. Dewenter came over this morning. We went shopping at the Mall and fixed turkey burgers for lunch, drank a beer cache, and played Mario-Kart. I worked 3-11:00. Ugh, no fun. We were swamped. Once we closed, Megan, Leah & I went to Cadillac Jack's after work. I had a 22 ounce Sam Adams Winter Lager and got decently buzzed. Leah's cool, fun, and cute, and I tried not to flirt with her but apparently I failed. As Megan and I walked to our car, she said, "You dig her!" I told her not to tell anyone. "Your eyes told it all," she quipped. Damn it.

monday

After work last night, Megan, Leah and I went to Cadillac Jack's for some drinks. It was a pretty good time. It's always good to hang out with work friends outside the work place. I had a 22 ounce Samuel Adams Winter Lager. I've had it before--at Outback a little while ago--and continue to be impressed. Since I didn't have dinner, I found myself more than slightly buzzed. I need to lay off the beer for a little while: all those carbs can't be too good for my weight loss endeavors. Ha. Weight loss endeavors. That phrase used to connote the idea of losing sixty, seventy pounds; now it connotes losing five. It's good to be back at my freshman weight; I am continually thankful.

I almost went and got my haircut today but decided against it. I'm gonna let it grow out for another week or so. 

I'm heading off to work soon. 12-5:00. An easy shift. Afterwards I hope to hang out with Dylan and (maybe) Tyler. I also want to rearrange my room a bit. This desk is quite the eyesore, and with my mini laptop, it no longer serves its purpose. Perhaps I'll just grab the collapsable laptop stand from the next bedroom over. Throw in a small little shelf. Yeah, that would clear up some space. 

Tanner keeps trying to eat my Christmas tree.

Note: Christmas is over. Take down the tree.

I have a stuffed koala and it's creepily staring at me.

christmas re:cap

This Christmas has been great. We spent Christmas Eve in New Carlisle with Dad's side of the family, and we had an amazing dinner. Ham, all sorts of casseroles, amazing rolls. The same night we did our family Christmas, and I got a new computer (see below). Pretty excited about it. Christmas Day was spent in Kentucky with Mom's side of the family. Bill cooked yet another of his great meals, this time beef wellington (wrapped with ham rather than pate, because none of us liked the liver taste). We broke out some Christmas ales and Riesling wine, and we huddled around the Christmas tree with the roaring fire and played various games, including a White Elephant, and Grandma got edible panties which I hope she uses with her new boyfriend. I usually dislike the holiday season, but this one didn't feel so bad. As I said, I enjoyed seeing all my family and having a brief hiatus from work. Now, however, with the holiday season over, I'm back to my ~40 hours a week. But that's okay. Santa didn't end my bill payments this year. I gained five pounds between Thanksgiving and Christmas (which is the usual), which means that this holiday season was delicious. I should have this five pounds worked off by the end of the first week of January, no problem. Here is the computer I got for Christmas (and which I'm currently on):

This upcoming week should be good. I'm sure I'll be seeing Dylan and Tyler, and maybe doing something fun with my new friend Erica, and this weekend will be spent in Cincinnati, where I'll be celebrating the new year with Old Man Hudson (and hopefully Amanda, too). I'm contemplating various New Year's resolutions. My usual one is to lose weight, but I've already tackled that beast, so I'm lost in regards towards what to resolve.

christmas 2011

Christmas Morning comes. The boy had decided to give Lindsey Amanda’s old stuffed dog with the pink bowtie. Amanda would’ve wanted her to have it. He places the stuffed animal into a box and wraps it in newspaper. He moves the coffee table away from the door and steps inside. Lindsey is snuggled in her sheets, sleeping. A smile creases his lips. He kneels beside the bed and takes her shoulder. He shakes it gently. She rolls over and the sheets fall away and he falls backwards as the color drains from his face, for her own face is a deep purple, the bloodshot eyes bulging from tunneled sockets, her mouth open in a silent scream, and her pale fingers are stricken with rigor mortis as they clutch the blankets tight.

Christmas Day is cold. The snow continues to fall. They silently pry her fingers from the blankets and wrap her in them. Her eyes refuse to shut, forever engulfing the cruel world in which she died. The man doesn’t say a word to Mark, who fights off tears. They carry her outside and down the street, and they put her on a sled beside a large hill bare of trees, and they push the sled down the snow-covered slope until it crashes into the old industrial canal covered with ice. They watch without emotion as the ice cracks and the sled disappears underneath with its stiff cargo.  They go back to the house and drink coffee, staring silently at the wooden table, saying nothing, hearing only the sound of their own breaths, the beatings of their own hearts, and the broken symphonies of the wind shrieking outside.

The boy goes upstairs to gather the gift he never go to give. He bends down to pick it up and sees something under the bed. He crawls underneath and pulls out two small boxes. He opens them up. Inside one is a drawing of three stick figures: a man, a boy, and a little girl, each one smiling. And in the other is a coffee cup that reads “Price Hill Chili: The Best In Cincinnati!” He tosses them back under the bed and leaves the room, shutting the door. He never got to give her his present, and she never got to give them theirs. 

christmas eve 2011

A heavy snow falls on Christmas Eve. Mark asks the girl if she wants to go play outside, because she seems to be doing better. The fever has lifted, she hasn’t had convulsion for a while, and he dares to hope that she may be getting better. Maybe her body is fighting against the disease and slowly bringing her back to health; or at least Mark hopes so. But she doesn’t want to go outside. She’s tired and just wants to sleep.

“Tomorrow’s Christmas,” the boy says.

“Really?” Her eyes sparkle. “I didn’t get you anything!”

“You don’t have to,” Mark says.

“But I want to.”

“You’re sick. You need to rest. When you’re better, we can find me a gift.”

“Are you getting me something?”

He smiles. “Well. You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out.”

The man stands out on the back porch smoking and staring at the freshly-fallen snow, feeling the stinging pinpricks of snowflakes driven into his cheeks by the savage windows coming up from the Cincinnati valley. The haze of the falling snow hides the city below, the empty skyscrapers lost from view. The man lets the smoke fill his lungs and exhales. A beautiful, wondrous feeling as the nicotine surges through his blood and alights in his fingers. He tosses the cigarette into the snow and leans against the brick siding and feels the wintry wind slapping him in the face. A tear brims in his eye but it is frozen before it crawls down his cheek. He remembers his first Christmas with Kira: sitting beside their small Christmas tree with only a few meager ornaments and flickering red-green-blue lights. They opened their stockings and then their presents. He got her a pearl necklace. She loved pearl necklaces. And she got him a new case for his cell phone and a frame in which to put his Flight School diploma. They cuddled on the sofa and drank hot cocoa and watched the snow falling outside. A snow similar to this one, except beneath the snow lied only grass and not the teeth-gnawed bones of fallen angels.

december 23, 2011

They wake to screaming. Mark shoves the coffee table out of the way, the books spilling onto the floor. He throws the door open and runs inside. The man is behind him. His digital watch reads 4:17 A.M. The girl is curled up in the sheets, face white as the snow falling outside, her screams piercing. She stares into the far corner, her legs kicking under the covers. Mark runs over to her side and the man holds the Beretta pistol in his hands. Mark kneels onto the bed and the girl throws herself onto him; the man swings the gun around but lowers it when he sees her clinging to him, burying her head into his chest. Mark squeezes her tightly and runs his fingers through her golden hair. Horrendous sobs soak his shirt with salty tears. Her fingers wrap around his shoulder and arm, gripping him in a vice grip, her fingernails poking through his shirt and scratching at his shoulder-blades, drawing blood. He doesn’t care. She continues to sob and lifts her head and looks back into the corner and screams again, gripping the boy tighter. Mark winces as her fingers cut into him, and he looks over at the man. The man takes a deep breath: “She’s hallucinating.”

She’s better come morning. Mark asks her what happened, and she tells him that her mother had come, and she had been one of them, but she left a little while after Mark showed up. “She was scared of you. Because you protect me. She didn’t love me. Not anymore.” Mark tells her that she did love her, and it was dark, so she looked like a dark-walker. But really she wasn’t, and she just came to see if her baby was doing okay, and she left when she realized she was safe. The girl smiles at him. “You remind me of my big brother,” she says.

Mark stays by her side. Snowfall accumulates, melts, falls again. The days go by, painstakingly slow. Her symptoms fluctuate, but she isn’t getting better. The man recommends Mark distance himself from the girl, but he’ll have none of it—“She’s suffering, and she’s scared, and she shouldn’t be alone.” At night he reads her children’s books. Christmas is coming, so he goes to the library and finds Christmas-themed picture books. He reads her the stories, and sometimes she reads along. She enjoys the pictures: it serves as an escape. She loses herself in the stories, and Mark does, too. Some of her favorites include “The Littlest Angel,” “Shall I Knit You A Hat?”, “Santa’s Stuck,” and “Christmas in the Barn.” But she always wants him to read her “An Orange for Frankie” every night.

“Christmas is in two days,” Mark tells the man as they sip lukewarm clam chowder from coffee mugs.

“I know,” the man says.

“You don’t have to get me anything.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Mark stares into the murky white broth, bits of pale gray clam swimming at the top. “I was thinking about getting something for Lindsey. Maybe a big stuffed animal. They have big ones at Wal-Mart. I could get her one. Maybe it’ll help her sleep at night.”

“Okay,” the man says.

Mark is quiet. “You don’t think I should.”

The man looks up at him. “She is going to die.”

The boy leans back in his chair. “It’s Christmas. She deserves to be happy.”

“Her entire family has been taken from her. How can she be happy?”

“I can at least try.”

“Fine. Then get her a stuffed animal. But it won’t fix everything.”

“I know. I just want her to be happy.”

“Are you sure you’re not just doing this for yourself?”

“How would me getting her a Christmas gift be selfish?”

“You lost your sister. And now you’ve found another one.”

“You’re saying I’ve replaced Amanda with Lindsey.”

“Subconsciously, yes.”

“Amanda’s dead. And I can’t change that. I can’t bring her back to life.”

“Of course you can’t. But maybe you’re trying to do that. With Lindsey.”

He shakes his head. “You’re incredible, you know that? Someone tries to do a selfless thing, and you’ve got to find an excuse to make them feel like shit for it.”

of the mist

A heavy mist rolled in overnight and hung over all the Dayton area into late afternoon. When I say heavy, I mean heavy (pretty much like the picture to the left). Ever since reading Stephen King's short story "The Mist", I've been fascinated by the fog. I always imagine strange creatures lurking about, and in my mind I spin together tales of romance and horror, stories of intricate cobwebs with inter-tangling sub-plots. There's something about the way the mist envelops houses and parking lots and trees, and how you can only see a few hundred yards ahead. I don't know. I really can't put it into words, at least not right now.

I finished all my Christmas shopping this afternoon, thank God. I spent way too much (per usual), but I think everyone will be happy with their gifts, and that's what counts (I also did a little Christmas shopping for myself, and I know I like those gifts). Mom and I met up at Bob Evans for lunch (omelette and coffee, nothing better), and I've spent the afternoon wrapping presents, watching television, and enjoying some good beer. Tomorrow I work a full shift, half a shift Friday, and then we're going to New Carlisle to celebrate Christmas with Dad's side of the family. Saturday we're doing our family Christmas (or perhaps Friday night?), and then we're going down to Kentucky for the festivities with Mom's side of the family. After that there's nothing to look forward to 'cept New Year's, and after that... Well, a long and cold winter, with the promise of spring stretched far, far beyond. 


In honor of this being the week of Christmas, I'll be celebrating by tossing excerpts from "Dwellers of the Night" onto here. How is this celebrating? I began writing the on Christmas 2007; and the scenes I'll be posting take place on the days preceding Christmas and on Christmas itself (set next year, in 2011). I've been considering trying to get "Dwellers of the Night" commercially published; any feedback on these upcoming scenes would be great. In order to set the tone, I'll explain really quick what has happened up to this point in the story: 1. a disease comes and obliterates most of the human race, except for a few lucky (or unlucky) folk; 2. those who died are resurrected, zombies or vampires or whatever; 3. the survivors are seeking to carve out a living amidst this new world; 4. the two main character--Mark & "The Man"--come across a little girl who's been bitten; 5. they have taken her into their care, and Mark is growing more and more attached to her (much to the man's dismay). These scenes consist of pages 180-182 in the rough draft. That's all for now. The first scene will be published tomorrow!

the "weekend"

Saturday. My weekend started Saturday around 2:30. Dylan and I went down to Cincinnati and hung out with lots of great people, and we ended the night with a trip to Nicholson's Irish Pub downtown, followed by warring it out on the new 007 game for Wii. Sunday. Dewenter came over around 1:00, and we went to Applebee's for lunch and then drank beers at the house and played Mario-Kart before doing some much-needed Christmas shopping. Monday. I returned to Cincinnati to visit my best friend Jessie who's in town from Illinois. It was so great to see her. We went to Rock Bottom Brewery on Fountain Square (though we had to park far away), and I had the most amazing nachos ever:

When winter comes around, I tend to get more depressed than usual. The cold and dark evenings with the deadness clinging to the trees becomes an echo of my own heart. It's as if I were looking straight into a mirror. It's been like this every winter for as long as I can remember. Seasonal Depression, they call it. I have several friends who experience the same thing. I generally want to do nothing but hole up in my room and go to bed by 6:00. But I force myself to be active, to do things, and hanging out with friends is one of the best possible remedies. Seeing all those people this weekend--Rob, Mandy, Amos, Blake, Tony, Blayne (just to name a few)--is one of the best antidotes to the depression. And getting lunch with Jessie, drinking a beer and talking face-to-face as if she'd never left, that was great. I do miss her. She's one of the few who has been by my side as long as we've known each other, and I owe a lot to her. Here is a picture of the two of us at Rock Bottom:

I still have a considerable amount of shopping to complete. Tomorrow I have the day off before the insane working schedule of Christmas (and Christmas travelling itself), so I hope to finish all my shopping then. I'm spending the evening inside, as we are *supposed* to get icy rain sometime this afternoon. I'm going to go to I.G.A. and get some steak and fresh vegetables and create a delicious dinner. And if I'm lucky, I'll get some writing done. Even though I've eaten out a lot, I've eaten religiously strict the rest of the time, and coupled with working out, I haven't gained any weight. Fingers crossed that I can keep it up through the new year. 

the dayton days [46]

I can't seem to stay away from this place!

Monday. Dylan & Tyler came over after work, and we ran to I.G.A. for groceries and made an amazing dinner: porterhouse steaks, baked potatoes, and sauteed mushrooms, polished off with Great Lakes Christmas Ale. We played Mario-Kart, watched "Dexter," and then they went home. I spent the evening chatting with Erica. We almost went to get drinks, but since it was late and the roads were getting icy, we decided against it.

Tuesday. Becky & Joel got married Saturday, and so did Kristen Southard (now... who the hell knows). She was the "heartbreak girl" of my younger years. I've heard every guy has one. Out of nostalgia I went and caught up on the married lives of both Julie and Courtney. Yeah, that made me feel pretty awesome. Disappointment as struck so many times that cynicism has become the very air I breathe. I keep praying, I keep hoping, but nothing changes, so I'll keep waiting. Today's fortune cookie from China Cottage told me to do just that: All things come to him who waits. Tomorrow I'm getting lunch with Erica. Sushi, of course. She's not interested in dating, and she wouldn't consider dating me: she doesn't date blondes.

Wednesday. Erica & I met up at Kabuki around noon. We shared lots of laughs. She's cute and nerdy. I grabbed tons of beer from DLM--a Great Lakes & Trappist collection--and spent the day writing. Dylan, Tyler & I got dinner at Outback Steakhouse: 22 ounce winter ale plus ribs. Back at the house we watched a documentary on death, had a few more beers, and hit up the cornerstone Mario-Kart.

Thursday. More snow fell last night; it's going to be a LONG winter. We have two new hires at work: Jordan (Betsy's brother; also our ex-partner Forrest's brother), and Leah. She's a pretty cute girl. It's awkward because we came across each other on OKCupid. She seems to like me, though, so the tension isn't too great. Destini commented on how she's taken towards me. It snowed 3-4" during work. Shortest. Autumn. Ever. Erica declined meeting again. It's been quite the year of failed romantic interests: Sarah, Maggie, Faith, Clare, even Jacquelyn and Erica, if you want. Hopefully 2011 will fare better.

Friday. Grandpa M. rolled in from Florida and admired my Celica. We grabbed dinner with the family at Lone Star (I had a steak and a potato) and then we went to Sam's Club to get my Christmas gift: a netbook! I'm pretty excited. I'm also excited about Cincinnati tomorrow: Dylan's going with me, and we're gonna do our thing with Mandy, see Jessie, and hit up Rock Bottom!

Saturday. I worked 6-2:30 with an excellent crew: J.J., Joanne, Carly, Kyle, & Destini. Dylan met me at my house around 3:00 and we headed down to the Claypole House. Jessie got me an awesome earthen journal for Christmas. Mandy, Dylan, Gambill, Blake & I crowded the upstairs and felt magical. Blake, Amos, Dylan, Blayne & I went down to Fountain Square, and because Rock Bottom was swamped we grabbed dinner at Nicholson's Irish Pub just down the street. We ended the evening playing 007 on the Wii, and Dylan & I got back into town around 2 AM.

Sunday. No church this morning, too tired from last night's festivities. Dewenter came over, and we grabbed Applebee's for lunch and spent the afternoon doing Christmas shopping. He went to his grandpa's and I watched a documentary on North Korea before calling it a night. Oh: Sarah lost her job, the bar's shutting down.

winter dregs

Sorry for not updating lately, to all three of you who read this. I've been helluva busy, and I really don't have the energy right now to write posts. During the winter, and especially around Christmas, the winter dregs hit. I become non-social, very quiet, turned in on myself. I get melancholy time-to-time, and I have no energy to do things. I just sit around and do nothing. It passes as soon as the first spring rains come, when the first flowers bloom into life. But for now I just exist day-by-day. I've taken some Nyquil to fall asleep tonight, and it's already kicking in. A good feeling. I haven't done this since the middle of March this year, right before I got my job. My mind has been a chaotic, anxious-ridden cesspool all day, and Nyquil is, perhaps, the best remedy. I'll fall asleep in immaculate peace tonight, arising bright and early to go down to Cincinnati for lunch with one helluvan amazing person: Jessie Myers. Despite the dregs, I anticipate tomorrow (or at least my time spent in Cincinnati) to be good. Oh, winter, how I hate thou. Here is a random cartoon for you to (possibly) enjoy: 

nine days till christmas

My day off work turned out to be pretty excellent. I had lunch with my friend Erica at Kabuki, enjoyed some delicious Miso soup along with an eel and asparagus roll. The owner even brought out some of her homemade banana bread. I finished chapter fifteen in "Re:framing Repentance" while drinking a trappist ale, and then Dylan and Tyler came over, and we went out for dinner at Outback Steakhouse. Sushi doesn't fill you up, so I was quite hungry, and I dug into a full rack of ribs with a 22 ounce Samuel Adams Winter Lager. It was amazing. When we got back to the house, we watch a documentary on death, had some Great Lakes (I enjoyed a Dortmunder Gold; Tyler had an Edmund Fitzgerald), and played Wii. Lots of snow came overnight, coating us with a couple inches. Thus work went by pretty slow, and it was good just to hang out with my great co-workers while not being in rush/panic mode. 

J.J. asked how things were coming along with my book on repentance, and I told him I had two chapters left but no energy to write them. And this is true. I'm worn out, visited only by the occasional burst of energy, which never lasts long. The document rests on my hard-drive, 300+ pages long, and only two chapters (plus the prologue and epilogue) to go. There's no way I'll finish it before Christmas. Perhaps it will be my "finish by the end of the month" project for January? I've been throwing together a little bible study for 1 Peter, and I'm really enjoying it. I'm trying to write it for the person who isn't well-versed in Christian thought, so I'm trying to be as simple and as forward as I can be. It's difficult, to say the least. I'm much better at writing research papers. Sometimes I wonder if this is all just a waste of my time, my writing. If it goes nowhere, then I've spent countless hours doing absolutely nothing to any avail. What a waste. Maybe this "midlife crisis" of sorts is what's keeping the energy from coursing through my veins. 

just a thought

Our culture is inundated with the pursuit of success and the achievement of our dreams (whatever they may be). This "pursuit of happiness" is generally done without any regard to the people whom we become in the process of the pursuit. We may be successful, as we measure success, and we may do what we've always wanted to do; we may accomplish our dreams and find ourselves dwelling in the manor of the prosperity of our deepest ambitions. But what kind of people will we be when all is said and done? More often than not, the pursuit of success leads to dehumanization, the deepening corruption of our hearts, minds, and strength (indeed, our very souls), so that that which is human within us is but a spark, an echo and a whisper, a faint voice heard in the quietest of moments: "What have we become?" What if we paid attention not to our dreams and ambitions, to what we want to make out of our lives, but, rather, to the kind of people we are and the kind of people we are becoming? What if, instead of making our dreams our greatest ambitions, we focused our energies on becoming more and more human: more loving, more just, and more merciful people? How would the world be any worse off? How would we be any worse off? Just a thought.

snow storm!

The first snow storm of winter came through yesterday. When I woke up, a meager amount of snow had fallen, but nothing to worry about. I was able to enjoy my Sunday tradition of Subway while watching TV ("Dexter" this time), and by the time I went to work, it started snowing again. It snowed all during my 3-11:00 shift, and seeing as the ice trucks didn't begin making their rounds till about 10:00, the roads got pretty awful. Needless to say, we weren't too busy at work. Half of us went home early, and two of us stayed behind to be able to close the store when that time came. We finished all the tasking, and I just hung around behind the bar. We had a handful of customers throughout the night, mostly regulars whom I was able to talk to thanks to the lack of work needing to be done. We even did a Verona coffee tasting with some of our customers. My PDP helped on that one. The roads on the home stretch were pretty awful, and I slipped and slid every which way. But I made it home okay--albeit the journey taking me twice as long as usual--and was able to enjoy some hot tea before bed.

Today I worked an easy 10-4:00, and then Dylan and Tyler came over. We ran to the grocery for some food, and then we had an amazing dinner: sauteed mushrooms, pan-seared steaks, and baked red potatoes. Not to mention some good ol' Great Lakes Christmas Ale. The evening afterwards passed as usual: Mario-Kart and television. This time we watched the season two finale of "Dexter". It's nice to be able to stay up somewhat late, because I don't have to go in till 2:00 tomorrow. 2-10:30. What a wretched shift! At least I'll be working with great people (though in all honesty, I like everyone I work with, so that's a guarantee every shift). I have Wednesday off, which will be filled with sushi and hopefully finishing the next chapter in "Re:framing Repentance." I work Thursday-Saturday morning and hope to go down to Cincinnati Saturday evening to see a bunch of friends. And then there's the Christmas shopping followed by the Christmas chaos, driving all over southern Ohio and northern Kentucky visiting segments of our disjointed family. At least it will be soon be over, and then we'll spend months locked in whining snow and blistering winds before spring arrives. Ah, spring... I'm already longing for her.

the dayton days [45]

Monday. I spent the day down in Cincinnati: Mandy, Blake, Ams & I formed a circle in Blake's room and laughed our asses off. "You say some pretty weird shit sometimes," Blake said. "I feel like I need a pen and paper when you're around, to record all the crazy shit you say." We grabbed dinner at Thai Taste--seafood Pad Thai, yum!--and played Wii back at the Claypole House. I got back home around 11:30.

Tuesday. We got more snow overnight, and Mom had a 2-hour delay. I had Subway for lunch, spent the afternoon watching movies: "Legion" and "Congo". Dylan came over, and we got sushi at Kabuki and ice cream from DQ. We ended the night by throwing my Ka-Bar at a pumpkin in the snow.

Wednesday. Mom & I had China Garden for lunch. Mom's girls came over for bible study. We had tea and played with Maebe. They left and I spent the evening studying 1 Peter with tea and candlelight.

Thursday. I worked 12-7:00. I lost three pounds over the Thanksgiving holiday: that's crazy! That's a good buffer zone for Christmas meals. The DLM girl came into work for the first time in a long while. I made an excuse to talk to her. She definitely flirted with me, and called me out the moment she saw me: "Starbucks Boy!" I told her I hadn't seen her at DLM lately, but then disclaimed, "Not that I go looking for you..." She rolled her eyes, quite teasingly, and said, "Sure..." with a smile. And before I could get her name, a customer came up asking for help. DLM girl waited for me to finish before saying bye. She gave me her work schedule this weekend, so I may make an excuse to go see her. A girl I met on OKCupid, Erica, is super lonely and depressed, not looking for a relationship, just wanting a friend. I figure I might as well indulge her, she seems cool enough.

Friday. We had new windows installed all throughout the house. Dewenter came over, and we played Wii and picked up some pizza and beer for Mom and went to the store for shelves. We assembled the shelves and bathed in high school nostalgia. 

Anthony Day '11! Ha, remember that? Jobst came over this evening in his new car. We grabbed sushi at Kabuki--salmon roe, tuna roll, and an assortment of sushi a la carte--and then got beer--Great Lakes Christmas Ale!--from DlM, but sadly DLM girl wasn't there. The waitress at Kabuki very obviously flirted with me: she brought me free samples, and we talked a lot as she kept coming by the table, and she invited me to join her at BW3s for beer and to watch the U.F.C. game. Her boss came by and scolded her for not doing her job. Haha. 

Sunday. Some snow fell overnight. I worked 3-11:00. More snow came during the evening, and we got around 4" by the time I left work. The roads turned to shit so we were dead; the store was a borderline ghost town. I drove 20 mph the whole way home. I had some tea and went to bed.

an echo of my past: December 2007

“Infractus Fatum”

Broken Destiny

He stands and watches her walk away,

her arms around the one

    who told him, “Everything will be okay.

    God has a plan.”

He watches the streetlights shine,

the light dancing through her beautiful hair

    “It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.

    Where did I go wrong?”

He watches her walk away, and with her

everything he always wanted leaves him,

    and he falls upon the ground, broken and

    beaten, the life streaming from his heart.

She disappears into the shadows, but he can

still hear her laugh, can still feel her breath,

    can still see her eyes as they peer into his

    and speak: “I want to be with you forever.”

A quiet rain begins to fall, the water running

between his shaking fingers, washing away

    all his hopes and dreams, carrying away

    everything he always longed for.

The rain grows harder, soaking his clothes,

and the thunder crackles, but all he can hear

    is her sweet voice: “I like you and I feel like

    I always will. Let’s make memories together.”

The tears mix with the rain, and his breaking heart

finds its resonance in the booming thunder

    “It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.

    Where did I go wrong?”

He does not want answers. He does not want comfort.

He does not want your theology, nor your philosophy.

    He wants one thing, the thing that haunts him.

    He wants her back. He wants to hold her, comfort her,

    tell her he loves her and that he always will.

“I love her,” he weeps in the middle of the street.

“I love her. I want her. I just want her.”

    He wants to run his fingers through her hair,

    wants to kiss her and cherish her and

    give her the world. He wants her to know

    that real love exists.

But she has left him. She has taken his heart and

wrenched it in two. “I didn’t want to,” she said.

    “I didn’t want to hurt you.” But you still hurt me.

    You took my dreams and stomped them underfoot.

His heart burns. It aches. He loved her. He loves her.

He will always love her. All he wants is her.

    Now she runs off with his best companion.

    Now he has taken that which he loved the most.

    All the quiet laughs, the gentle moments,

    all are lost into the hands of betrayal.

The evening has turned to night. The rain falls.

    “It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.

    What did I do wrong?”

His hands unfurl and he holds it in his palm.

The blade glints in the dim glow of the streetlights;

    the water runs down the serrated edges

    and the steel sparkles with the flashes

    of lightning.

“It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.

What did I do wrong?”

    His life has fallen apart. His love has abandoned him.

    His friend—the only one there for him—has betrayed him.

    His god has seemingly turned his back on him.

“My future is darkness, despair, hopelessness, resignation.

For what purpose do I exist, but to suffer with each passing moment?”

    He takes the hilt in his hands, twists the blade towards his heart.

    His heart has already been broken; it lies in pieces behind his ribs.

    What harm can a mere physical blade do? Her words

    have pierced him like a thousand burning arrows.

To some, death is bitter, an enemy, a gall.

To others it is the sweet song of life, a deliverance, a gift.

    The blade drips with water; it will be easy

    to pierce the clothes.

He looks up to see if she may return, daring beyond all logic

that she may come back, fall upon her knees,

    and say what she said just last night:

    “I want to be with you forever.”

        But no one comes.

            He is utterly alone.

He closes his eyes. He sees all their memories rushing him

at once, a mosaic of life and love and happiness—

    a forgotten existence. He sees her

        hair blowing in the wind on that fall trip to the park; sees her

        dimples when she smiles at his innocent jokes; sees

        the way her cheeks sparkle in the evening sun; sees

        the quiet dances of her eyes sending messages of adoration.

    He feels her fingers wrapping around his own, feels the

        warmth of her embrace; feels

        her breath tingling against his neck; feels

        her dove-soft hair tickling his cheek.

One thrust, and it will all be over. One thrust

and the memories will be gone. One thrust, and all the

    suffering, the pain, the agony, the despair,

    all the hopelessness, the futility, the resignation

    will be gone… vanquished as his blood runs between

    the cobblestones and disappears in the rain.

His arms are shaking. Excitement? Anxiety? Fear?

He has no other desire in the world, but to

    plunge the knife deep down into his heart,

    to break the cycle of his life, a life

    of heartache, heartbreak, of constantly and always

    never being good-enough, cool-enough, good-looking-enough,

    never talented enough, cute enough, never smart enough,

    never wonderful enough, never tall and dark and handsome.

    This is an end to all the inadequacies that scar his own reality.

His fingers wrap tight around the hilt; the blade sings sweetly in his ears.

“I can’t go on,” he weeps. “I can’t go on. I can’t go on…”

    He just wants to love and be loved, to cherish and be cherished,

    to understand and be understood, to comfort and be comforted,

    to be there and have her be there for him.

    Not anyone will do; she is the one, the only one.

        She made his heart quicken, his pulse jump,

        his muscles go limp. Now she has made

            his heart fall to pieces,

            his pulse shall die, and now

            she has made the muscles poise

            for the only refuge he can fathom.

He looks towards heaven, into the flashing lightning and the thunder.

He cries out for deliverance, but there is no answer.

    The angels have shut their mouths.

    Even God has turned His back on him.

His cheeks are pale with the pallor of dejection, and

his eyes see a future of bleak shadows and whispered

    regrets. His cries come from the deep wells

    of a broken heart engraved forever with the

    deep stains of long-lost love:

        “I want her. All I want is her. I just want to be with her.”

        He would do anything for a second chance.

            It will not come.

        He wants to be with her badly.

            But she turned her back on him.

            She left him in the cold, naked and shivering,

                exposed to all the mockeries of romance.

            She took his heart, crumbled it in her fingers,

                and spit upon the remnants.

            He would have given her the world:

                but she took the world away from him.

He takes a deep breath, the raindrops in the air filling

his lungs, and the world spins to a halt:

    the raindrops hang suspended, reflecting

        the streetlights, a panorama of diamonds;

    the lightning bolts across the sky hover,

        their electricity spinning webs in the clouds;

    his heart holds to its last beat,

        the meaningless blood in his veins

        drawing their last breaths.

A deep serenity embraces him, promising him

the only security he has ever tasted.

    With a single wrench of the muscles,

    the blade pierces his shirt and enters

    his flesh, the serrated edges chewing

    flakes of bones from his ribs before

    the heart is torn in inexorable agony.

He pitches forward, limbs suddenly weak,

and he stares at the ground, the puddles

    reflecting the grotesque mask upon his face:

        a mask of disenchantment,

        a mask of resolution,

        a mask of the only hope he knows.

He falls onto his back and finds himself sprawled

in the middle of the street, the blood soaking

    his shirt and mixing with the rain.

    The raindrops feel cool upon his burning face.

    His fingertips tingle; his face goes pale.

He closes his eyes and lets the strength drip

from his soul. All he can think about is how

    the knife does not cause him as much pain

    as the words she spoke to him:

        “I don’t love you anymore.

        I don’t want to be with you.

        I want to be with your best friend.”

He closes his eyes, and he embraces the

quietness, the darkness, and the serenity.

    All the memories, the pains, and the

    weeping is forgotten as he shuts down.

He lies on the street: broken, bloodied,

marred, and maimed. But now he is truly

    alive. 

saturday sushi

My good friend Jobst came into town and treated me to sushi at Kabuki down the road from my house. He demanded that I go all-out, so I got the sushi deluxe. Twenty dollars of tasty goodness (and we also had, not pictured, mussels). The deluxe came with a spicy tuna roll and several different pieces of sushi over rice. Crab, lobster, tuna, salmon, yellow tail, shrimp, calamari, and something else (snapper, maybe?). We were also served some salmon roe (salmon eggs), but they tasted like the Atlantic ocean. Not too good. Everything else, however, was amazing. Our waitress was really nice, too. She kept hanging around our table, chatting us up, and she brought us some samples, and we talked about movies and U.F.C. and she invited us out to BW3s next door for some beers and to watch the game, and her manager came over and told her to start doing her job. It was pretty funny. We didn't join her at BW3s (although, to be honest, she was quite cute; and I am quite certain she flirted with me); instead we went to D.L.M. for dessert (creme brule) and beer (Great Lakes Christmas Ale). We went back to my place and sat by the fireplace and drank beers and talked for a while. It was a great time, and it was good to see him.

I've only got two more chapters to finish before the rough draft of "Re:framing Repentance" is complete. Towards the end of a project, I find that my motivation to finish it greatly decreases. Each sentence, each paragraph, each section becomes a chore. I have the chapter outlines all hammered out, and all I need to do is sit down and actually write them. But I have no energy, no motivation. Perhaps this is a good thing? I don't know. I hope to have the rough draft completed before the end of this month, though I doubt that will happen. We'll just see how it pans out. In the meantime I'm changing things up and throwing together a bible study for 1 Peter. It's going to be extremely short (in my opinion), and the best part is how I am getting away from all the hype and controversy around Paul. I can sit back, sigh a breath of relief, and be labeled "orthodox" for a little while. 

Kyle and I were sitting in the cafe a few days ago. He was preparing for a sermon, debating between a text from Lamentations and 1 Peter (he is studying 1 Peter as well, along with J.J.; it's the new hype). He told me my boy N.T. Wright has come under a lot of flack lately, and it's true: folks from both the conservative (namely evangelical reformed) and liberal camps have been taking more and more swings at him as of late. Since I've brought several N.T. Wright books to work to read on my lunch, apparently people think I'm an N.T. Wright junkie, as if I gather my theological convictions from whatever comes from the tip of his pen. While I find Wright enlightening, intriguing, and puzzling, I certainly don't agree with everything he writes. I also read a lot of Wayne Grudem (a champion of Reformed theology), as well as the works of several well-versed arminian theologians. My theological views are derived not from a single scholar but from an array of sources: professors, other books I've read, personal studies (and not to mention biases and personal experiences). Lumping someone into a theological category fails to give respect the dynamic and evolving nature of one's theology. Not to say that I don't do this myself; but we seem to see things when the rifle's scope is pointed at our own hearts. My fingertips are, oddly, freezing. So that's the end of this post.

a good friday night

1 Peter & Jeremiah 29

I've been studying 1 Peter lately, and as my study gets deeper and deeper, I am noticing parallels with this New Testament text and Jeremiah 29 (which my friend and former professor called "the most Christian text of the Old Testament"). The thought of a parallel came to me while working behind the bar, and when I got home, I started doing more research. While I didn't find in any of my books (or online for that matter) a mention of this parallel, I can't help but become more and more certain of it. I'm not saying that Peter (or whoever wrote 1 Peter) used Jeremiah 29 as a template, just that there are some parallels, and within these parallels, vistas are opened from which 1 Peter can be approached from different angles. Indeed, one's telescopic approach of the text may drastically change if the parallel is taken into account hermeneutically (which may or may not be a good idea). Throughout my studies, here are four striking parallels between 1 Peter and Jeremiah 29. 

(a) both 1 Peter and Jeremiah 29 are addressed to exiles

(b) both 1 Peter and Jeremiah 29 are written to exiles in babylonian captivity (a literal captivity in Jeremiah 29 and a symbolic captivity in 1 Peter 5.13)

(c) both 1 Peter and Jeremiah 29 are written to instruct the exiles how to live in exile

(d) both 1 Peter and Jeremiah 29 frame exilic living in the framework of future hope (literal restoration in Jeremiah 29 and eschatological restoration in 1 Peter)

As a side-note, many of the commentaries and references that I've read have downplayed, significantly, the eschatological undertones (a better word may be overtones?) of 1 Peter. Most side-line the issue, perhaps adding it into the margins as an extended footnote; one reference work went so far as to say that the importance of eschatology in 1 Peter is overestimated and of meager importance. I think this is due to how eschatology has become just another segment of Christian doctrine without any real bearing on the present (other than we'd better be good 'cause Jesus will come back at any moment, and he'd better not find us engaging in oral sex). I think this understanding of eschatology is greatly flawed, and that the New Testament is riddled with eschatological importance. Perhaps this conviction is a key reason why I find parallels between 1 Peter and Jeremiah 29?