an anniversary, II

A year ago today I moved back home to Centerville, OH. The move was decided on the basis of emotions, but I think it was the best decision I could've made. Granted I left a ton of great friends (leaving friends, however, doesn't mean leaving friendships, and I get to see all those guys several times a month), but I knew that I had to escape Cincinnati for the healing of my own soul. Healing did come, in time. When I first moved home, I questioned the decision constantly, but I refused to back down.

I can be indecisive, but when I make a decision, I generally stick with it. No matter what.

So I stayed home despite constantly wrestling with whether or not it was a good idea. I reconnected with several friends whom I hadn't seen in a while--Patrick, Dewenter, Ashlie, Chris, among others--and I was closer to two of my best friends since fifth grade, Dylan and Tyler. The first week of my return, Dylan and I went out for drinks at a favorite restaurant of ours, The Rusty Bucket. He had a beer and I had a double shot of Maker's Mark. We went to Barnes & Noble and perused the books and I fantasized about moving to Alaska and he told me, "You're cynical now, but I think your cynicism will break. I think you'll perceive things differently, eventually." I didn't believe him at the time, but it's true. I got a job, made a ton more friends--not least Jessica, Carly, Kyle and Leah--and dated two different girls before meeting Elle. Life is good, hope shines brighter, I laugh more often and have a lot to live for. So, as for an anniversary: a year ago I made a questionable decision, wondered if I'd regret it, and I haven't yet.

the dayton days [52]

Monday. I met Leah at her school, and we went back to my place and listened to music and played on the Wii. She gave me MASSIVE hickies all up and down my back. I kissed her neck and shoulders, and she got chills. I took her back to school for her next class, kissed each other goodbye until Saturday. 

Tuesday. To be honest, I'm quite surprised at how great things are going with Leah. I'm so used to either (a) getting kicked to the curb or (b) being the skittish douche and running for the hills. But, for once, I'm HAPPY and CONTENT. This girl is quite the catch; I like her a lot, and to top it all off, she likes me too! She told me, "Dating you is nice but weird." I asked why. "We actually talk about things," she said. I told her that's generally how relationships should be. "I know," she said; "I'm just used to guys trying to use me."

Wednesday. I worked a long and tiring 7-3:30, then spent the afternoon writing my own stuff and editing some of Leah's school papers. I had pan-seared fish, mushrooms, and a baked potato for dinner before Mom's girls arrived. Dylan & Tyler turned 24 today.

Thursday. I worked till 1:00, then grabbed lunch at China Cottage with Dewenter and Tony P. Dewenter and I battled it out on Mario-Kart. Another blizzard rolled through this evening. I talked to Jessie a bit today. She's happy things are going well with Leah. I said, "Now we just wait to see how long until she breaks up with me or cheats on me." Jokingly, of course; to which she replied, "OR, you guys could get married and have beautiful babies!"

Friday. I was supposed to work today, but Betsy begged for my shift, so I gave it to her. Mom & Dad headed down to Kentucky. Leah was going to come over since I have the house to myself all weekend, but that fell through. 

Saturday. Leah and I had overlapping shifts at work. It's fun, the secrecy and all. Rebellious! Leah worked later than me, and when she got to my place I had it all cleaned up with a fire in the hearth and candles lit around the room. She was pretty stressed out: Saturdays at Starbucks, a baptism of fire. Kyle's pissed at her because she turned down seeing a movie with him. I'm glad she did: he's totally interested in her.

Sunday. JANUARY 30, 2010. The worst night of my life. Sarah brought Billy home and fooled around with him. In love with her, I got drunk, cut myself, and passed out. The next day I moved home. So much has changed over the past year: Sarah and I are hardly friends, and I don't care. Couldn't care less, really. She still sleeps around, gets trashed at parties, is 28 years old and more foolish than a 15-year-old. She drives Ams crazy. I'm happy at home, dreaming big, dating a great girl. Life has changed, and it is good. 

anniversary, I

A year ago today was the worst day of my life thus far. Looking back on it, it shouldn't have been so awful. The thing about events and how you rate them is that your emotions play the key role. Had this happened now, I wouldn't lose a wink of sleep. This is what happened: I was head-over-heels for a girl who wouldn't be with me for a laundry list of ridiculous reasons. We lived together, which was a bad move in the first place. That night I dropped her off at Bar 127 in Hamilton, and a few hours later I went to pick her up. She was crawling all over him, practically humping him on the bar. She brought him back to the house and flaunted it before me, then went downstairs and messed around with him, all of which I could hear through the thin walls and duct systems weaving throughout the house. I took eight shots of bourbon in a single minute, then vomited all over the place and fell into a ball, shaking. The next morning I broke off our friendship (temporarily) and moved out of the house.

It all seems so foolish now, and it really is. My emotions were just so vested into her and into the situation that I literally reached a breaking point. I didn't think I'd ever find anyone like her, and when everything fell apart, I reached bottom when it comes to romantic aspirations. A year later, she and I are still friends but not as close as we used to be (for better or worse). I have no romantic desires for her, and in fact I'm dating an awesome girl, who's beautiful inside and out. Looking back just makes me think about how we humans so easily invest, which is foolish (although which is more foolish: immaturely investing or immaturely hardening your heart?). All this thinking makes me contemplate two aspects of human nature:


1. Human beings are probably the only creature in the animal kingdom which pursues tragedy, knowing all along that tragedy is all that stands at the end of the road. Unless, of course, you count lemmings. We bathe in agony, to put it lightly, and as much as we cry and moan about the agony, we just duck our heads down in it more and more. Some are more affront about it than others (e.g. drama queens), but all of us have a tendency not to mend broken hearts but to keep reopening them. In the above situation, I could've quite easily avoided the emotional trauma if I had been wise and sensible at the beginning. But, no, we human creatures entertain fantastical hopes while knowing that the end result will only be pain and disillusionment. And yet, knowing this, we run harder and harder towards that goal. Foolishness.


2. We can become so entrenched in something, or someone (or, in my case, the very idea of someone) that our entire lives are prioritized around that thing. It becomes the centerpiece of all that we stand for, and it's there in our waking and sleeping movements, dictating our choices and decisions, influencing everything we say and do. And sometimes, sure, that can be a good thing (e.g. a marriage); but more often it's an awful thing. As I bathed in the tragedy of my failed romantic aspirations, I missed out on having amazing times with amazing friends. It wasn't until after all this that my eyes were opened to all the great friendships and experiences around me, and it saddens me that until now (i.e. until moving home) that I didn't relish and pursue these friendships and experiences as I could have. They say love is blind, and misplaced love blinds us to all the other love that surrounds us. 

a good evening

Mom and Dad are in Kentucky for the weekend, so I have the house to myself. Last night I lit the fireplace and with the quiet wrapping around me, I wrote. Inspiration shot through me, and in a matter of two hours, I wrote thirty pages of original material. An extra two chapters in "Dwellers of the Night: Book Two." I had considered deleting the chapters completely, but I'm glad I didn't. For some time I feared I'd lost track of the gift, but now I know that it's stronger than ever. The sentences, the words, the carrying nature of the story... My eyes became entrenched and I hunkered over the keyboard and my fingers danced and words sprawled across the page. It feels good to write something original that I'm proud of. Definitely a good night. "Book Two" is at a little over 100 pages right now; the completed project, which I hope to finish revising in the next few weeks, should be a little over 250 pages. Just a bit more than Book One. It's 3:20 now and I'm going to try and finish another chapter before Elle comes over after work. In other news, I found a great website (click here) of some of the internet's most fantastic pictures. Occasionally I'll post some on here that I find amazing. This one's my current desktop image:

more snow? no thanks

More snow came overnight. I'm so tired of it. Legitimately exhausted of the snow. My mind and heart ache for spring, for life to return, for the flowers to bloom and the songbirds to sing again. I don't know how much more of this I can handle. To the left is a picture of the snow lacing our giant snowball, made about a week or two ago. It'll probably be around till March. Dad says it may make it to next winter (joking, of course). Today has been spent in boredom. Watching episodes of Law & Order: S.V.U. A trip to the cafe to do some writing while drinking tea. A run to the bank and trying to figure out how to pay school loans following car maintenance (alternator went out, shocks need replaced, left door has decided not to lock shut). I took an accidental nap, dreamt of silence. How weird is that? My dream was that everything was silence, a roaring silence, and I couldn't get it to stop. And then the soundtrack to Boondock Saints started playing, one of my favorite songs from the movie--"Holy Fool"--and then I woke up with a headache. Freaking weird. It's only 5:30 and I don't know what I'm going to do. Maybe try and finish that chapter in "Dwellers of the Night: Book Two." 

Regarding that, this is something I don't understand. The entire novel is composed of a trilogy (Book One, Book Two, and Book Three). I've gotten great reviews and ratings for all of them on different sites, but books Two and Three seem to be the most favored, whereas Book One is the one I like the most. I think the reason is because in Book Two, more characters are brought forward, more story-lines converge, and the story becomes character-driven rather than plot-driven. There's almost no action scenes whatever in Book Two--minus the chapter I'm writing now--and so the thick of it lies with the characters. Action picks up in Book Three, which is nearly all action, but the characters and their stories are retained and continue to evolve. Maybe that's where the understanding of this phenomenon lies.

china cottage extravaganza

I always enjoy the China Cottage ritual with Patrick, though I think I may be getting two comfortable. Five pieces of crab rangoon, a spring roll, a bowl of egg drop soup, and an entire entree of general tau's chicken. My insides feel as if they're about to burst. Nevertheless, it's always worth it. Good conversation, hilarious jokes. And today an old friend, Tony P., joined us. We reflected on the ancient days of high school and Southwest Church and the 412 youth group. Ancient days is a good description. They took place only six years ago, but it feels like a lifetime. So much has changed, and we've all traveled different paths and embarked on various journeys, yet we find ourselves again in the quiet atmosphere of China Cottage as we first did ten years ago. It's good to reconnect. Especially over great food.

A co-worker wanted my shift tomorrow, so I gave it to her. Who knows how my day shall be spent. Later in the evening some of us from work may be getting together to roast hot-dogs. Yes, during the winter, when the snow is falling (as it is right now outside my window). Saturday I work 7-3:00, and I'll get to see Elle for a bit as she's passing through from her own work. Sunday we're spending lots of time together, and I'm really looking forward to it. We have a lot planned: Just Dance, "Shoot 'Em Up," Gyro Palace, playing with her kitty (whom we're babysitting), and finally ending the night with a television show she loves called "Fountains Abbey." Now I'm going to shower, maybe watch some Law & Order, and then give her a call before bed. I could stay up as late as I want, but I'm a morning person, and will probably be passed out by midnight. 

1.25.11

Elle and I hung out for a bit yesterday, between her college classes. She was having a rough day, so I brought her her favorite Starbucks drink. We went back to my place and listened to good music and ate dinner and played on the Wii, and then I took her back too class. To be wholly honest, I am continuously surprised at how great things are going with her. I'm so used to either (a) getting kicked to the curb for no apparent reason or (b) being a skittish cat and running for the hills. But, for once, I'm happy and content. This girl is great, quite the catch. I like her a lot, and to top it off, she likes me a lot, too. We're (hopefully) hanging out Sunday: going to church, getting Greek food for lunch, having some desert, then playing Just Dance 2 on the Wii and watching "Shoot 'Em Up" with Clive Owen and Paul Giamatti. 

Work today? Uneventful. Wade heard some nut-job on talk radio talking about how the Spirit told him the world would end on December 22, 2012. Just one day after the Mayan prediction. I wouldn't put too much stock in him: he said that all of us are God's beloved sons and that the Spirit is the space between the atoms and molecules that swirls all around us. So I guess a vacuum told him about the end of the world? Probably more like the drugs he's on. Regardless, all this fanatical hype about the end of the world, not least 2012... I could care less. First of all, this is nothing new: it seems every decade, a new "prophecy" is uncovered and scrutinized with religious analysis, and then--no surprise--nothing happens. Also, I'm a postmillennialist, so I don't buy into that paradigm of thought--be it Christian or secular--about the world coming to some cataclysmic, violent end. To each his own, I guess. Wade also heard the old story about King David and Joshua being homosexual lovers. He rightly stated that such a statement is a misinterpretation and corruption of a single verse, to which I added, "And on top of that, the evidence is quite weighty that David favored women."

J.J. asked me how the book was coming along. "Re:framing Repentance." I'm where I was about two months ago: two chapters left to go, no motivation to do it. Part of this lies with me being a fool and losing my entire outline for the next chapter, and currently I have no energy to undertake the painstaking and monotonous process of doing it all over again. Perhaps one of these days I'll get a "second wind" and finish the book. Today I've spent some considerable time writing, mostly on my little "layman's devotional" on 1 Peter. I'm not sure how layman-oriented it is. There are still big words which I need to weed out. But that comes later (if I ever finish it; I'm renown for not completing projects). Mom's chopping onions and I want to see what she's making, so bye.

1 Peter 1.1-12

I've been steadily plowing through my attempt at a bible-study-slash-devotional on 1 Peter. So far I've reached verse 1.13 and it's already at the equivalent of a 131-page college research paper. I can't imagine how long it'll be once it's finished. I plan on self-publishing it, and that allows me to tweak the text size, font, margins, etc., so it should be no longer than 300 pages. Still: that's a lot of writing. It's difficult, because I am consistently wrestling with which stuff to focus on, and which stuff to breeze over. When I did my exegesis on Romans back in 2008-2009, I painstakingly focused on every little detail. The result was that it looked more like an exegesis than a devotional (which was the point); but because the purpose of this little project is quite different, it's a different beast to wrestle entirely. I finally decided on a layout for the study: the introduction is set apart (including all the pertinent information: authorship, audience, date, rhetorical situation, etc.), and the actual text takes place in stages, according to an outline of the letter. Each section is then divided into smaller portions--be it texts or, more commonly, small passages--which are then examined in detail for a couple pages, written in what I hope to be layman's terms. After each section, I give a little synopsis. Having finished the first section (1.1-12: The Christian Hope), here's the short synopsis:

Having examined the first twelve verses of 1 Peter, it would be good to step back and see how they all fit together from a bird’s-eye point of view. In verses 1-2, Peter identifies both himself and those to whom he is writing: the Christians in Asia Minor. His letter, as we saw in the introduction, was written to encourage and strengthen the eastern Christians as western persecution threatens to spread like wildfire throughout the Roman Empire. Peter begins this letter of encouragement and strengthening by focusing the Christians’ perspectives: instead of focusing on this current life, and thus on life in this present evil age, Christians are to focus on the future age, the consummation of God’s kingdom. This, the Christian hope (including the resurrection of the dead, glorification, and the inheritance of a new heavens and new earth), is to energize and strengthen spiritual muscle; but if the Christians are wholly focused upon the current state-of-affairs, then they’ll miss out on all this.

Peter’s brief mentioning of several key eschatological themes serves as a reminder rather than an instruction to the Asia Minor Christians. Peter isn’t telling them anything they don’t know; rather, he’s reminding them of what they already know, and urging them to focus on that. The Christian hope, which is so often taken as a tidbit of Christian doctrine, or side-lined in lieu of more “important” matters (such as the order of salvation), is a defining characteristic of Christian belief, identity, and praxis. In terms of belief, Christians can be identified by the way that they understand not just the present but the future; Christian theism teaches that history is going somewhere, and the “where” is the total victory of God over evil and the renewal of all things, human beings included. In terms of identity, Christians should identify themselves as members of the future age living in the present age; it is in this sense that Christians are “exiles” and “strangers.” In terms of praxis (i.e. behavior), the future informs Christian behavior in the sense that Christians are to live in the present as if the future is already here: Christians are to put into practice kingdom-living in the present evil age even though God’s kingdom has not yet advanced to the point of encompassing and healing the entire created order. Peter’s decision to focus on eschatology isn’t done at random, nor is it clever; it makes perfect sense. While eschatology has become, at least in many circles, merely a matter of interesting study, it should be integral to our belief, identity, and behavior as it was (or, at least, as St. Peter believed it should be) for the Christians in Asia Minor.

Now, having given a panoramic view of the future, Peter demands that his readers/hearers not simply dismiss what he has written as mere doctrinal peculiarities. They are to put it at the forefront of their minds and shape their thinking and living around it.

the dayton days [51]

Monday. Dylan came over and we had gyros and Greek salad for lunch. Tyler joined us later, and we made a GIGANTIC snowball in the front yard, and I designed a pretty decent "snow horse." Leah and I skyped late into the night. Her codename on my blog is "Elle": both Carly and Jessica skim my blog from time-to-time, and I don't want to blow our secret. 

Tuesday. A pretty good day: I worked 7:30-4:00 with a great crew (Jessica, Kyle, Brett, and Carly), picked up Hot Head Burrito for dinner, did lots of writing, and spent the evening reading Cormac Mccarthy and drinking tea. McCarthy's "Suttree" is phenomenal.

Wednesday. I've been spending my work breaks sipping chai teas and reading McCarthy. I love it. Leah drove off the road and hit a sign. Her car's okay, but she called me in tears: "Am I going to get arrested?!" I met up with her after she got out of school (she's in college, someplace off 675), and we got dinner at Red Robin and went to the Fairfield Mall. I got a new wallet and bought her some cute things for her hair. She's ADORABLE. We were going to hang out this coming Friday, but her mom exploded on her, as she always does, and grounded her. It makes me feel like I'm dating a high schooler, but I know Leah hates it far more than I do. She lacks options and loathes it.

Thursday. Six inches of snow fell overnight. The roads were awful, wrecks everywhere. Leah and I worked together, and I coached her on the pastry case. "You were so serious, you freaked me out!" She said she wanted to flirt with me so badly, and that not being able to made her want to cuddle, and she generally dislikes cuddling. Mom & I braved the snow to pick up Chinese and watched How to Train Your Dragon. GREAT movie. Denise keeps pushing the idea of pursuing Leah on me. Little does she know, Leah & I are actually together!

Friday. Leah and I got into an argument over something ridiculous, but I won in the end. "I was SO mad!" she said; "And what made it worse was knowing that you were in the right and I was in the wrong!" We hung out after her 12-4:00 shift. We cuddled and kissed and she got WAY into it. Excellent kissing. We danced to club music and that made her hot so she pulled me into bed. Gave me hickies. I massaged her back and played with her adorable tummy, and I gave her a hickie by her belly button. She kissed my "cute" stomach. 

Saturday. I worked until 2:15, and then Dylan & I headed down to Cincinnati. We grabbed food as a late lunch and arrived at the Claypole House. We hung out with Mandy upstairs. Dylan's mom called while he was pretty fucked up. Mandy & I died laughing, watching him trying to hold his shit together. We played 007. When Amos & Blake got home we returned upstairs. Ams came over after work, and we went upstairs yet again. Such was the night. Calm, mellow, relaxed. And Rob ordered us some Thai. 

Sunday. Dylan & I hung out with Sarah before heading back to Dayton. We ran through my work for breakfast. I spent the rest of the day doing laundry, cleaning out my closet, sweeping and mopping my room's hardwood floors, and writing. Still mellowed out from last night. 

a mellow saturday

Saturday? A success. Dylan and I got down to Cincinnati around 3:30, and we spent the evening hanging out at the Claypole House with tons of good people. Not literally tons, of course; I use that as a figure of speech. We had Thai food for dinner and spent the evening playing on the Wii and watching 30 Rock. Dylan and I crashed at Amanda's apartment, and in the morning we hung out with Sarah before coming back. My Sunday has gone well, too. I missed an opportunity to hit up Southbrook with Carly and Jessica, but I'm sure that issue will be revisited. I've been in a mellow, contented mood all day, and I took the opportunity to get much-needed cleaning done. I reorganized my closet, got rid of some things, swept and mopped my room (it's hardwood; you have to use a certain cleaner for it), did not one and not two but three loads of laundry, and enjoyed Greek food for dinner, much thanks to my mom for considering me when she swung by Gyro Palace. I'll be cleaning my car out tomorrow and hopefully doing some writing between Now & Then. Some quotes from last night:

"Anthony, what the f*ck are you saying over there?"

"Anthony, you're crawling towards us like a f*cking little animal!"

"Anthony, you look like a freaking turtle when you do that. Stop."

"Just now, in my head, I did a remix of Backstreet Boys to doing mathematics."

Tomorrow Elle and I may be hanging out. Really looking forward to it. I need to think of something fun we can do. Right now I'm thinking either we'll make pancakes or brownies in a bowl (whatever the hell those are; she seems pretty excited about them). She has a four-hour break between classes, and I'm going to hang out with her in between and after her last class, during the interim period working on some writing at the local Panera, perhaps with some coffee and a baguette. Regardless, I'm really looking forward to seeing my girlfriend tomorrow. 

the agenda

Elle and I hung out last night. It's really quite unbelievable how much I like this girl. That can be taken so many wrong ways, allow me to clarify: I haven't liked someone like I've liked Elle in longer than I can remember (well, that's not true; since 2007). We're now boyfriend/girlfriend, which is nice to say. It's great getting to know her. Becoming more comfortable with her. Letting her into my world, and she's doing the same for me. Chemistry, I think, isn't something that "just happens" (of course, I'm more fond of physiological explanations for attraction, love, bonding, etc.) but that it's something that develops as two people grow closer together, their lives slowly but surely entangling, sometimes to the point where they become one and the same. I'm not saying that Elle and I are entangled as one (I'm not crazy); but I am saying that we're connecting in different ways, our lives entangling. And that's a good feeling. It makes me happy.

The weekend is here, and I'm really looking forward to it. The Agenda:

1. Cincinnati! Dylan and I are heading south in just a few minutes, will be spending tonight with great people--Rob, Blake, Amos, Mandy, my little sister--and just hanging out, having a good time. Playing video games, drinking french-pressed coffee, sharing stories and laughter. Dewenter said, "Life's all about love." He's right. And when I'm in Cincinnati, I feel the love. The warmth. The sincerity. It's like stepping out of the snow into a cottage lit with a roaring fire, and therein gathered people whom you love. 

2. Clean the car. My car is in desperate need of a cleaning. The inside is okay; it's the outside that's a mess. All this snow has made it look utterly ghastly. I hope to give it a good cleaning, though this probably won't happen: it's so cold the water would probably freeze. That'd be utter disaster.

3. Write. I want to finish the new chapter in "Dwellers of the Night." I'm struggling with it, and I think it's because I've been in "redaction mode" for so long that "originality mode" is lagging behind. I've been doing various writing exercises to help boost me in the right direction. One, I think, came along pretty good, although it's just a scene and detached from plot. I'll post it on here soon, but keep in mind: it's not a story. It's just a scene. I didn't try to write a story.

Okay. Dylan should be here any minute.

And I still need to pack.

1.20.11

I got to see Elle last night. We went to Red Robin for dinner. Bottomless fries! She had a bottomless root beer float and I had a Guinness. It was watered-down, not too great. Shame I had to pay five bucks for it. Afterwards we went to the Fairfield Mall and looked around. She got some cheap jewelry and I got a new wallet. I spied one I really liked for $40, knew I'd never pay that much for a wallet; and then I found the same wallet in a for-sale bin for only $12. Quite the steal. It's really great getting to know her more, spending time with her, walking hand-in-hand through the mall. I hate malls, I really do. But it was okay since she was there. Hell, not just okay. It was great. 

More snow fell this afternoon. Six inches, I think. More coming tonight. I'm ready for spring to get here. The snow dampened my plans to head down to Cincinnati (since I have tomorrow off), but I'm going to go down Saturday night through late Sunday morning. See tons of good people, escape the boredom and monotony of Dayton, if only for a little while; and then it's right back into the swing of things.

I haven't gained any weight since my last weigh-in in October, but I haven't lost any either. So I've been stable, which is good. Usually I gain weight this time of year (like most people). Once spring comes, I know I'll get a second wind, more determination, all that. Even still, though I perceive myself as being "big", I know I'm a small guy. Elle called me petite, and Carly told me I was quite small. Eh. I just want to rid of this gut and waist flab. Everything else is picturesque :). 

Now to do some writing before going to bed. 

Not sure what tomorrow holds, but I'm optimistic.

a relaxing evening

Tonight has been quite productive. In regards to writing, I finished piecing together the hard-copy of Book One's second rough draft. It's quite professional, and through a service-provider, I'll have it in my hands within the next couple weeks for a cheap fee of $11.00 (plus shipping and handling, of course). It'll be much easier for me to read and edit in different places, where creativity may not be so stifled; and I'll be able to take pens and highlighters and maim the hell out of it. I also finished revising the second chapter in Book Two; and I've decided to add an extra chapter to bring together some loose ends and closure following the events in the first chapter. It should be short but sweet. I'll probably hammer it out tomorrow after work. 

The rest of the evening has been spent watching tv, drinking beer--Killian's Irish Red is always a good choice--and reading by the fireplace. I'm reading McCarthy's "Sutree," and again and again I marvel at the way McCarthy can describe scenes with such eloquence, detail, and brevity that the picture literally opens up in the mind's eye, a picture one could hardly fathom. He is certainly a writer to be envied; but alas, I am better at short and succinct prose, in the footsteps of Hemingway, and perhaps there I shall stay (though McCarthy acknowledges that Hemingway is one of his role models as well). I have a headache, so I'm going to chug some Nyquil and wind down. It's my drug of choice. 

It rained today.

Most of the snow is gone.

It's good to see the grass again.

But our snowball will definitely be here a while.

It's a nasty thing, embedded with gravel and dirt and broken leaves.

Quite the lawn ornament. 

snow day

 

Okay. Not really a snow day, in the sense of a vacation thanks to snow, but a day spent in the snow is nonetheless a "snow day" I think. Dylan and Tyler came over, and we had a snowball fight (see picture above) and attempted to build a snowman, which turned into a snow-horse instead (see to the left). I think it turned out pretty decent. And it's eye is a piece of baking chocolate (which tastes great on its own, by the way). Later in the evening we decided to make the biggest snowball possible, and we did this by taking a regular snow-ball (the size of one's fist) and rolling it through the snow for about twenty minutes. The end result is legitimately the biggest snowball I've ever seen. You won't be able to throw it (it weighs a metaphorical ton; it took three of us to push it through the snow), but it's long-lasting: I estimate it won't be gone 'till at least late March. It's going to take a LOT of warmth to melt that sucker. Take a look:

the dayton days [50]

Leah: Super Adorable!

Monday. At home I wrote a piece about sunflowers and sunsets, just for fun. May need a new ending, though. But Leah liked it. Mandy & Ams came up to visit, and we hit up China Cottage. Dylan joined us, and we hung out at the house for a while. I told Ams & Mandy about Leah, showed them a pic. "She's cute!" Dylan said. "If you like her, go for her." My fortune cookie today: Someone is interested in you. Keep your eyes open. Ha, perfect. 

Tuesday. Five inches of snow fell over the course of the day. We were slow at work, so I got to head home at 2:00 instead of 3:00. Dylan came over and we grabbed DLM for dinner: sushi for me, a burger for him. Leah & I skyped till about 10:30. She said I look cute when I'm falling asleep. I told her I could tell she wanted to cuddle with me as she fell asleep, and she quipped, "You ARE quite cuddly, but I doubt we'd do much sleeping."

Wednesday. A slow day at work: the roads were still bad this morning. Faith & I unloaded the order like madmen. Douglas, one of our older regulars, hit on Carly and freaked her out. I tripped on a mat and collapsed to the floor. Dewenter, Dylan, Tyler, and I went to Double-Days for a great dinner. We went to the bookstore and got drinks from the franchised Starbucks. Dewenter got a book on graphic design. Dylan & I had a snowball fight in the parking lot; I tried to tackle him, but the slimy bastard slipped away. Katie, Mariah & I played Mario-Kart after their small group. I called Leah and fell asleep and Skype was still on and she saw me sleeping and said, "You're so cute when you sleep." So is she.

Thursday. My phone died overnight and I was half an hour late to work. I got cigarettes from the Speedway off Yankee. I handed him a five and he handed me back fifteen. I told him he was mistaken, but he didn't believe me, adamant that I paid with a twenty, and so I walked out ten bucks richer with a pack of Marlboro. "Not my till, not my problem!" I told Jessica. At 4:30 Leah & I met up at Max & Erma's before her closing shift. We ate dinner, and then we sat in my car and she put on her makeup and I hugged her bye and wanted to kiss her more than I've wanted to kiss anyone in a long time. Around 7:00 I went to the store to work on my PDP. It was weird pretending Leah and I barely know one another. Jessica and I smoked on her break (she's working closes to fill some gaps for a bit) and she said, "Carly and I were talking about how cute you and Leah would be with one another." I said nothing incriminating, the deception intact. When Leah got off work, we met up at Jack's and sat in the parking lot and listened to music on the radio. She said, "When we have kids, they'll think this stuff is old." We cuddled a bit. We've gone from talking to dating and I like that.

Friday. Leah came over after work. She and Mom played a dance game on the Wii. Mom really likes her. I took her out to dinner at Panera. We watched To Catch a Thief, and then we cuddled on the sofa with the fire roaring in the hearth. I kissed her and she kissed me and then we made out. We played a card game, "Golf", and then she had to go so I took her out to her car and it was freezing but she still held me and fought for more kisses. It's been two years since I've had sex, and Leah and I aren't going that direction, and for that I'm so thankful.

Saturday. I dreamt I was part of a commune living in seclusion amidst a zombie apocalypse. My day was unexciting: work, writing, and Mom made soup for dinner.

Sunday. I went into work to do some writing, and I ended up sitting with Carly for a while. Some Jehovah's Witnesses came in and tried to evangelize is. Carly was pretty upset by it. Her spirit's vulnerable. I wanted to get China Cottage with Dewenter, but he was out of town. I headed down to Cincinnati, and we had House Church and then partied afterwards. Amos, Ams, Blake, Gambill, Mandy... Such a great crowd. 

china cottage contemplations

Dewenter and I went out for lunch Sunday at our usual joint: China Cottage. Everything tasted delicious, as always, though the egg drop seemed a bit on the salty side. Dewenter is a fellow I really admire, because he's down-to-earth, realistic, and self-controlled. Like most people I know (not excluding myself), he had his own "wild years" back in the day, but has shed that from his shoulders and is living life the best he can, before his family, friends, and before God. While we were eating, he went on a rant about how the meaning of life is so simple: LOVE. "That's what life is all about," he said. "Loving people. Loving God. The rest, it's just periphery." He then looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, you probably don't want to hear that, I probably sound like a fool." "No," I said, "you're exactly right. Why go complicating things?"

*sigh* It is so simple. Love God. Love others. So simple, yet so profound, and so incredibly difficult. When I started my college education in biblical studies six years ago, the simplicity was beautiful. And then I began delving into theology, hermeneutics, and then onto dynamic and narrative theology, the study of meta-narratives and controlling stories, symbols vs. praxis, yadda-yadda. Big words that don't really mean much, big words that make us feel smart and superior to other people. The result is that even the simplest things become the most complicated. It's like a botanist who goes into botany because he loves flowers; but five years later, he doesn't admire the flowers in spring, he's analyzing the flowers' parts and getting all technical with it. The beauty is forgotten. And that's what happens, all too often, in bible college: the simplicity is shredded, the beauty is forgotten. And Patrick, well, I envy him. I envy the simplicity, the beauty, and I want that back, I really do. I guess I'll just start smelling the flowers again; and I guess in the meantime, I'll just do my best to love God and to love other people, straining to be more and more like Christ each day and knowing well enough that I'll consistently fail. 

saints & sinners

I had a great time with Elle last night. I took her out to Panera for dinner, and then we spent the evening watching a movie--Hitchcock's "To Catch A Thief"--and playing cards. Some game called Golf. I failed miserably. I promised to beat her next time, and I intend on keeping that promise. 

I've finished the rough draft of "Dwellers of the Night: Book One." I'm going to have a hard-copy professionally produced so that I can work my way through it with pens and highlighters, doing classic editing rather than digital editing, with which I tend to skip over things. This way I'll be able to pay closer attention. In the meantime I've started working on "Book Two," which introduces a plethora of other characters while drawing the plot to a cataclysmic conclusion which transcends Book Two and reaches into Book Three. The first chapter--entitled "Saints & Sinners"--sets a theme which will be reinforced again and again throughout the rest of the trilogy, the theme of what happens to humanity when rules and regulations are wrenched off the grid. Some people become saints, others become sinners. I enjoy writing about the "saints", but the "sinners"--those who become no more than animals--makes my stomach sick. While I was writing this chapter in 2008, I constantly considered deleting it altogether. Much of it is disturbing, and I'd rather not write it. But the twist in my gut eventually reaches a sort of refreshment when judgment follows swiftly upon the sinners (that sounds so archaically fundamentalist; I ensure I mean it in a literary fashion). Nevertheless, I am in the middle of redacting this chapter, and I am again encumbered with the disturbing nature of it all. It must be good writing if it disturbs the author, no? Anyways, the point is this: I can't wait to finish out the chapter and move on to the sweeter, more uplifting chapters. In the middle of it, I feel depressed, anxious, stressed, and downright nauseas at times. 

my week

It's been a pretty good week. Time for a re:cap. Monday: Mandy and Amanda came up from Cincinnati, and we went out to China Cottage for dinner. Dylan joined us, and Mandy snapped a pretty great picture of the two of us which is now on display in this post. "If that's not a movie poster," Dylan said, "I don't know what is." Tuesday: Dylan came over but Tyler bailed, and we went to Dorothy Lane Market for dinner. I had sushi and Dylan grabbed a burger, and we went back to my place and watched some television and then sat on the front porch smoking cigarettes watching the snow fall. We got around five inches. Wednesday: Dylan, Tyler, Dewenter and I went out for dinner--Double Days--and then perused Barnes & Noble. I used to buy books like a madman but have, thankfully, stopped. I own way too many books. Today: "Elle" and I went out for dinner--Max & Erma's--and then I did my PDP and smoked with Jessica on her ten-minute break. Tomorrow: Elle and I are hanging out again. I'm taking her out for dinner at -------- (unmentioned because in the off chance she reads this blog, I don't want the surprise to be spoiled), and then we're going back to my place to watch a movie of her choice. She said she's picking several romantic movies and then I'll get to choose my doom. I hope she goes easy on me.

Elle said, "You're definitely a romantic." To which I replied: "Yes. But I'm a stoic romantic." And what I mean is, I am one of those romantic kind of guys. I get it from my mom. Amanda takes more after my dad: less romantic, more... what's the word... I don't know. It's still early and I can't think. I like watching sunrises and sunsets, I like getting flowers (or chocolates) for my girl, I like cuddling by the fire, I like doing little things for her, little surprises spread out throughout the week. It's sappy, or at least it can be. But I'm stoic, too. Most romantics buy into this weird, culturally-saturated ideal about "the perfect soul mate" or shit like that. My naivety was destroyed too long ago for me to hold on to such grandiose notions. I know how relationships work. I know how bitter they can become. I know "what lies beneath." But I'm still optimistic, still hopeful, and that's the romantic rather than the stoic within me talking. I'm a man of walking contradictions and this is but one of them. Anyhow. I'm excited about seeing Elle tomorrow. That's the romantic speaking. I like her a lot.

new year's resolution

Late in coming, but here it is, after lots of thought. On Christmas Eve Amanda and I drove to New Carlisle together, and I told her about how I have been struggling with what to do with my life. Amidst this I feel as if there is no goal, nothing to strain towards, and more often than not I become entrenched in this stagnant atmosphere of existence (the existential undertones of that statement make me nauseous). I told her about how I discovered that, even though I self-published with Lulu and Createspace, both allowed me to retain complete creator rights. I still own the books; they do not.  I did some research and discovered that several self-published novels were later retracted after decent success and commercially published at the author's initiative. As we were talking, I asked her what she thought about me pursuing getting something commercially published. "Is it selfish?" Ha. I laugh now at the thought. She said it wasn't selfish, at least not in a bad way, and that I have talent and would be stupid to squander it over a twisted guilt-complex. At that moment I made the unofficial decision to try and get "Dwellers of the Night" commercially published.

Because I retain creator rights, the issue of right infringement is really a non-issue. All of the reviews have been good or excellent. There are several websites that have my book available for discussion (not giving the book away, mind you, but allowing readers to post comments, critiques, reviews, ratings, etc.). All of the reviews on those websites are good, and I've gotten--and continue to receive--numerous emails from readers praising the work. On one website, the book--out of five ratings--was rated five out of five stars; a little exploration, and I discovered that those who rated it gave most books lower ratings, including more popular ones by Stephen King and Richard Matheson, amidst others. Also, "Dwellers" was listed as one of the top post-apocalyptic novels available out there (along with King's "The Stand", McCarthy's "The Road", and Moody's "Autumn"). I've already begun the process of redaction (editing and revising), and have gotten great feedback from several friends and acquaintances; I'm even pleased to have an associate professor of english give me excellent feedback, saying that it's really good and has the potential to be great. Such an encouragement and inspiration. 

Right now I'm focusing on redaction, working to get the trilogy into the best possible shape. This involves a lot of work--a lot more than I imagined--and a virtual re:writing of the entire 800-page manuscript. The redaction stage goes as follows:

1. Simple editing: mis-spelled words, bad grammar, etc. This simple editing also involves rewriting confusing passages, working on the flow of the story where work is needed, paying more attention to similes and metaphors (and shredding most from the manuscript), and being aware of the page's actual look (something many writers don't do; a lesson to be learned from Hemingway). 
2. Hard-copy rough draft: because it's easy to miss things when working on a word processor, I am also using Lulu to provide a polished rough draft which I can then use to continue the editing and redacting, picking up things I've missed and being enabled to work on the text when away from my computer. This will also give me a 'feel' for how the book may look in print, which is important.
3. Once I finish my rough drafts, I'll reread them one more time and then save them as PDF on an external drive. I'll then submit query letters, with the first three chapters attached, to agents and/or commercial publishers. Most publishing companies don't accept unsolicited manuscripts, so most likely I'll be aiming for agents, hoping to land a deal. After that, if success is found, well, we'll just have to wait and see.

"Why am I doing this?" Several reasons. First, this has been a lifelong dream: to get something commercially published. Self-publishing is easy, and I've had remarkable success (one internet magazine mentioned a previous book as proof that commercial publishing companies have decent competition); but there is a different prestige and mysterious promise found in being commercially published, if the only message being that someone, somewhere, believes that your work can make it in "the real world." Second, financial reasons: I have no dream of becoming a career writer or anything like that, but generally-speaking, a book deal for something like "Dwellers of the Night" could fetch anywhere between $15,000 to $30,000 dollars. Say goodbye to student loans, say hello to a fixed car and moving out of my parents' house. And if the book does well, then upcoming books will generally land higher sums. Third, I enjoy writing, storytelling, immersing myself in other dimensions and other worlds, finding myself in different times and places and with different people. In a sense, writing a story is like playing God--you're in control of what happens, and you decide the fate of the characters. There's great responsibility in this. Fourth, regret: in forty years, if my life continues to be stagnant, I don't want it to be worse by always wondering, "What if I'd tried?" If I try and fail, at least regret won't be yet another thing to wrestle through. And finally, right now I'm in limbo with life, unsure of what to do or where to go; and at least this will give me something (fun and exciting) to work towards. 

So, here's to 2011: may a tiny little dream come true.

an acrostic

Billowing pillows and blood-red bluffs.
Little children drinking the sun from teapots and kettles.
And all the while all I can think is that
Ketamine and Cocaine have nothing on you
Except they're just as addicting as your body.

my week

It's hard to believe the weekend is over. Saturday the alternator in my car died; thankfully we were able to get it fixed pretty quickly (and at a reasonable price), though I had to be dropped off and picked up from work. I don't really like that; a hack at my independence and self-reliability. My family and I went out for dinner--Hot Head Burritos, similar to Chipotle, only with more choices--and I spent the evening reading and writing, reorganizing my room. Yesterday my new friend--we'll call her Elle--came to visit. I like her, she likes me, and though I previously "called things off," talking things over with Patrick made me realize that (a) I really do like her, and so (b) that was a stupid thing to do. Apparently (and I say this as if it a new revelation, though I've known this for a while) I am one of those types who self-sabotages relationships; I can trace this back to a plethora of events in my past, but discovering its origins doesn't help overcome its influence. So I bit my teeth and said "to hell with it" and started things up again. I'm happy and content and pressing forward. Elle and I made pancakes for lunch and watched "No Country For Old Men"--one of my favorites, directed by the Coen Brothers and written by Cormac McCarthy, my favorite author--and I helped her with her homework and we told stories and laughed and flirted. 

I am waiting for Amanda and Mandy to get here, and we're going to grab dinner at China Cottage and then hang out at the house with Dylan, who's showing up later in the evening. I work mornings the rest of the week--with the exception of Friday and Sunday, which I have off--and I hope to see Elle some more, and I may be getting drinks with some friends one night and China Cottage (again) another night. I also hope to do more editing/revising for "Dwellers of the Night": Book One's current rough draft is at 250 pages, but I need to add a few more things and cut some things, really fine-tune it to the point where I can say, "Okay, let's move on to Book Two." Now I must go and find something to watch on television.

the dayton days [49]

Jessica & I being badasses

Monday. Dylan & Tyler came over after work. We made chicken and potatoes for dinner, with beer, of course. I called things off with Leah. I really liked her (hell, I still do), but the risks because of work were too great. She confessed she understood, confessed she already had a boyfriend (WTF?), and she said, "For the record, I really liked you." I told her likewise. 

Tuesday. Correction: she doesn't have a boyfriend, just a guy she talks to but doesn't like. I had my Starbucks mentorship meeting with Wade till 1:30: strengths, weaknesses, areas of improvement, etc. All day I wondered if I'll regret cutting things off with Leah. I do miss her, and she misses me. I'm tempted to restart things, but (a) I'd look like a fool and (b) the risk of disaster remains present. Best to stick with my gut, despite the fact that she's a cute, godly, normal (read: not psychotic) girl. The DLM girl came through again and we talked. She's a Jehovah's Witnesses. No chance of that going anywhere: I try to avoid dating girls who're involved in cults.

Wednesday. The electricity at the house kept shorting out all day, so damned annoying. Mom had her bible study, the usual crew (Megan, Mariah, Katie, and Mariah #2) plus one: a chick named Sarah. 

Thursday. Carly and I had a joint PDP today. We went to Jessica's condo in Dayton with her best friend Allison and Kyle from work. We had two appetizers and dinner, polished off with two bottles of wine and a couple beers. We shared laughs and stories around the fire and Jessica & I smoked hookah and Carly & Allison smoked their pipes like English detectives. Jessica is a cute, fun, artsy, lively girl. Too bad (a) she's not attracted to me and (b) we were allowed to date if we could. She's a shift and I'm just a lowly barista.

Friday. At 4:00 I met up with Leah at Jack's before her closing shift. I drilled her with all sorts of questions. It was really great to see her. It's though: I genuinely like her and want to date her, but... something's missing, I don't know. Dewenter came over, and I told her about my dilemma, and he said there's no shame in feeling confused as you're getting to know someone. You don't understand them quite yet, so confusion shows that you're not making too many assumptions just to make the picture black-&-white. I accompanied him to Dayton where he picked up some barrels for beer brewing. We finished off the night with Mario-Kart and a funeral procession: Maebe died. She was told (for a hamster). Mom's taking it pretty hard. Pad D. left and I headed to the parking lot at Jack's and when she got off work she joined me. We laughed and hugged and the hug became a cuddle quite quickly and we both really liked it. I drove home on wintry roads. More snow's falling. I'm sick of it.

Saturday. I only slept five hours before my 5-9:30 shift. Dad took me to and from work because my car's alternator died in the subdivision on my way in. My haircut looks good. 2, maybe 3 girls flirted with me. Dad & I fixed the Celica when I got home from work, and then Mom joined us for dinner at Hot Head Burrito. F.C.C. called me: they want me to be their interim pastor while they continue their "Minister Search." I don't want the job, but an extra $100 a week? At work, Kyle's girlfriend broke up with him. Megan's pregnant and showing. Jess Lynn is the A.S.M. in Richmond. 

Sunday. Leah came over, and we made pancakes for lunch and watched No Country for Old Men. Mom made dinner for us. Dad was quite reserved; he always is, I don't know why. I think he thought Leah & I were "sexing it up" in my bedroom. We weren't, though we cuddled an awful lot. I promised I wouldn't kiss her and she laughed and then we both REALLY wanted to kiss but refused. "I've never had a guy reject a kiss!" she moaned. She really likes my self-control (weird, huh?), even when she wishes I didn't have it. No kissing on the lips, but lots of rhythm, pecks, and grazing. I helped her with her homework and she left. I like this girl, I really do. First time I've been able to say that about anyone in a solid year.

a funeral procession

R.I.P. Maebe. December '09 - January '11

We didn't have her very long (only a few days past a year) but she was a good hamster. I figured she'd be dying soon. They only live to be around 1 1/2 to 2 years old, and she was full-grown when I bought her. Apparently no one had wanted her, but I gave her a home and much love. It was sad to see her in there with a bunch of baby hamsters, the only one full-grown. It was as if no one wanted to take her home. So I took her home and I got her a great cage and lots of treats and excellent bedding and several toys. And she would fall asleep in my hands and crawl through my shirt pockets and nibble on my finger every once in a while, and even when she bit me so hard it bled for two days straight I still thought she was the best hamster in the world. But she got pretty stiff last night, and that's cause she died, so Dewenter and I took her out back and dug a shallow grave in the cold earth and we buried her and then went inside to drink beer and play Mario-Kart. She will be missed.

dinner with classy gents

Last night a bunch of us from work went to Jessica's condominium to hang out and feast. I ran by Dorothy Lane beforehand and grabbed some appetizers: homemade mozzarella balls with olive oil, to spread on wheat crackers (Jessica provided the most amazing hummus I've ever had). Car-pooling with Allison and Carly, we got to her condo around 6:30 and I promptly went to work fixing dinner: grilled chicken, sauteed asparagus, baked potatoes, macaroni and cheese. Because I didn't prepare beforehand for so many people, much of the food--namely the asparagus and chicken--was cold by the time dinner came around. Oh well. I'm no chef, just someone who likes to cook. Kyle joined us, and throughout the night we polished off an entire bottle of delicious wine and a half bottle of another; I drank all mine when cooking and got a pretty nice buzz. Afterwards we sat around the fireplace and shared laughs and told stories and some of us broke out pipes and others broke out the hookah. It was indeed a good time with good friends; I'm thankful that I work where I can make friends and spend time with them outside work without talking about work the whole time. I'm glad we didn't talk about work much at all, except cracking jokes about everyone's mess-ups and failures. All in all a good night.

Patrick came over today, and we went to Dayton and picked up some stainless steel beer kegs he's using to make a gravity station for brewing his own beer. He made a Christmas blend, an I.P.A., which I have yet to try. We spent the evening playing Mario-Kart and watching ridiculous documentaries on netflix: "Terror Bird" and "Killer Pig," about prehistoric Ice Age-esque animals. Quite hilarious, especially since National Geographic tried to make it out as a serious exploration. Awful C.G.I. destroyed their attempts. 

coincidence?

As I wrote yesterday, I find myself unsure of what to do with my life. I find myself pulled in two different directions, and at least on one level, it is the difference between Vocation and Ambition. In other words, there is something I feel called to do--or, rather, be--and something that I want to do and be, but something which may or may not result in God's glory. As I crawled into bed last night, I confessed all this yet again to God, and I prayed for guidance and wisdom in my quest for what to do. Following my prayer, I began a devotional my little sister got me for Christmas: "Reflecting the Glory" by N.T. Wright. The very first devotional ended with these words (a sketch of Paul's train-of-thought in 2 Corinthians 2.14-17):

Yes, I am called to be an agent of Christ, part of the very body of Christ; and I recognize that I am unfit for a ministry like this. So, as [Paul] will say again and again throughout this passage, the sufficiency he has does not come from himself: it is the gift of God.

These words really resonated with me. Today I had a mentorship meeting with my friend and boss, good ol' Wade, at work. During the forty minutes we had together, I told him that I am a pretty introverted, timid guy. It's part of my personality makeup (INFP all the way, baby!), and the result is that I really dislike confrontation, find it hard to talk to people I don't know, and generally would rather stick to myself. All of this leads me straight to 1 Timothy: everything we know about Timothy tells us that he may have been an INFP or something similar. Paul had to tell him, in no uncertain words, "Do NOT dare to let people walk all over you." He constantly writes to Timothy, giving him encouragement amidst his ministry. One wonders why Paul wrote so often to Timothy? Most of his letters (with the exception of the pastoral epistles) are written to congregations; yet we find four pastoral epistles, two of which are written to this enigma named Timothy. It seems that Timothy was unsure of himself, hesitant, always questioning his ability to do perform the task at hand, to advance God's kingdom and to lead churches. Again and again Paul is there, pushing him along, and we can even taste a sort of frustration in Paul's tone from time-to-time. Nevertheless, despite his timidity, Timothy continues--albeit wrestling and struggling--in his vocation.

I find myself similar to Timothy. I know what God wants me to do. The thing about vocation is that it's not something spelled out on your birth certificate but something ingrained within you. It's something you just know, but something you know differently than how you know your own name or know facts or figures or mathematics. It's a heart-knowing, if that makes any sense. And I know, in my heart, in the deepest part of who I am, that God has called me to something: but I am consistently unsure of myself, always questioning--"Me? Really? Come on!"--, and always trying to find excuses (much like Jonah) to get out of it (perhaps I should remember that big-ass whale; be it metaphorical or literal, it was still one hell of a nightmare). Wright polishes off the section with this statement:

We cannot have a theology in which human beings, whether apostles or ordinary Christians, simply decide that they are going to pin their flag on God's map, and that they will attempt to do something in their own strength, for God. What we have is a theology of vocation and enabling--a theology, in other words, of the Holy Spirit.

Perhaps, at the heart of all this struggling, is my own knowledge that I can't do it. And that's a legitimate excuse made illegitimate by the Spirit: yes, I can't do it; and yes, the Spirit will enable me to do it. If I were able to do it on my own, would it even be considered a vocation? "Who is sufficient for such things?" A rhetorical question with a rhetorical answer: "No one." And alongside that negative answer is the presence of God and the empowerment of the Spirit, not so that I can attain my own dreams and ambitions but so that God's kingdom can advance. 

the dayton days [48]

these Claypole parties can get pretty crazy

Monday. I worked 12-5:00, and then Dylan, Tyler, and I got dinner at The Rusty Bucket and ended the night with Mario-Kart. Everyone got hurt today: both Dylan & Tyler burnt themselves on cigarettes, and I got a random nosebleed at the diner. I rearranged my room, got rid of the desk to open up space. Leah and I texted one another all day. She may "dig" me. Who knows? It's hard to tell if a girl's flirting or just flirtatious because of her personality. Leah's charismatic, so it's even more difficult.

Tuesday. Leah & I met up at Cadillac Jack's around 4:00. She had her root beer, I had a 22 ounce Sam Adam and got pretty buzzed. I dropped her off at the 'Bux for her 6-11:00 and was buzzed driving home. Leah and I were both up till 3 AM talking over Skype. Megan said she's at least aware that I'm interested, as if a skype call till 3 AM isn't proof enough. She's cute and fun, and we have good conversation. I'm definitely interested.

Wednesday. Leah confessed to liking me, said I was cute and a good conversationalist. "You're quiet, expressionless, and blunt, so it's hard for me to figure you out. But your eyes, they're a dead giveaway." She really likes my eyes.

Thursday. Megan said she dragged a confirmation out of Leah, relayed the conversation do me:

"So what's up with you and Anthony?" she asked her.

Leah's face blushed like fireworks. "I know he likes me."

"It's pretty obvious."

"Yeah, he doesn't hide it well."

"And you like him."

"Yeah."

"You don't hide it well, either."

Leah told Megan she's afraid of getting in trouble with work. Megan reminded her that it's not against the rules, but discretion is key. Leah said she's a charismatic Christian: not Pentecostal, just really tied to the spiritual world. As much of a stoic as I am, I believe her, if only because Mom is (er, was) the same way. So I know those "gifts" are real.

New Year's Eve. I spent the day down in Cincinnati. Blake, Amos & I went to Price Hill Chili, but they were closed, so we just went back to Claypole and partied. We spent the evening playing video games, munching--white chocolate candies, mozzarella sticks, and meatballs--and partying as hard as we could. Amos passed out around 10, and I followed suit around 11:00. I missed the ball drop but woke at 12:03 to a flurry of celebratory text messages.

New Year's Day. Leah and I went on our first "real" date. I picked her up from work at 2:30, and we went back to my place and cuddled in bed, and we went to see the new Chronicles of Narnia movie in 3D. We went to her place, and I met her Mom, Dad, and sister Hannah (plus Gracie the dog and Sammy the cat). We all sat in their basement and talked for about an hour. "My parents really like you," Leah said, "and so does my sister." 

Sunday. No church this morning. Aunt Teri, Uncle Bill, and Aunt Teri headed back to Kentucky (they spend New Year's with my parents every year, but I missed their party for my own sort at Claypole). Dylan came over around 12:30 and we had lunch: pizza and beer at Milano's. We went back to the house and Dewenter joined us. Lots of Mario Kart and National Geographic documentaries, and a trip to I.G.A. to get groceries for Mom (and juice boxes!).