Still Puzzled...

So this blog: not where I am now. I mean that in more ways than one. Actually what's contained here is more than a bit embarrassing, from both the standpoint of what I wrote about and the standpoint of how I wrote it. I 'think' I've grown up a bit, but who can really say? (I know this much: I do not quote Sheryl Crow lyrics anymore!)

But this is now, and in the now you can find me here: www.xanga.com/my_own_ire_land.

Wishing you well on the road,
Jon/JP

So this blog: not where I am now. I mean that in more ways than one. Actually what's contained here is more than a bit embarrassing, from both the standpoint of what I wrote about and the standpoint of how I wrote it. I 'think' I've grown up a bit, but who can really say? (I know this much: I do not quote Sheryl Crow lyrics anymore!)

But this is now, and in the now you can find me here: www.xanga.com/my_own_ire_land.

Wishing you well on the road,
Jon

There's a song for everything under the sun, and Sheryl Crow sang it: "I think a change would do you good." That said, I'm moving. Moving to a xanga journal, that is. I just like the prospects of both receiving comments in an organized manner from readers [if anyone is entertained or learns a tad of anything from these mutterings] and being able to display CD cover art for what I'm currently spinning [how accommodating to a music schnob].

My xanga site is up now at the following addy, and you can find me there:

http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=jscizzle

That's all he wrote, folks so goodnight and good morning. Keep the Peace.

Can I say that I like Howie Day? Man, the guy just writes good songs ["Brace Yourself," "You and I Promise" and "Collide" will do it for starters; the Radiohead-esque quality of "Come Lay Down" is also infectious -- you cannot run from this]. Anyway, today was a good day. Group work for COMM370-Nonverbal Comm thankfully over; no more writing papers under the guise of a "group" effort. Man, group projects just plain suck. Who likes them? Anyway, it wasn't so bad, really. I tend to hyperbolize.

Again, today was good. Yes, I will say it again, not because I'm trying to make myself believe it but because I get so easily and so often distracted from my central thought train ["Runaway train, never coming back..."]. See, there. Anyway, I skipped my first class, Irish lit, to prep for the COMM presentation, it came and went, next class was the usual 75min of a prof droning on and on, then I went to work. It was one of the better nites I've had at The Best Little Rollhouse [pretending to be] from Texas. I got out of there late, but it was worth it. Customers, coworkers affable. Tips good. Getting the hang of it makes work fun [or as fun as it can be]. Just a solid, if uneventful, nite -- and that was fine by me. One def perk: getting paid to watch college hoopstas about one-fourth of the time I'm there. No cable at the casa this semester, so it's a welcome benefit.

Random highlights of the day/nite: Jill dropping in at Roadhouse as the bearer of good music [new Coldplay -- !! -- and some solid stuff from this Damien Jurado creature] and encouragement... a few encouraging msg's from friends... a renewed desire to initiate with people and not wait for others to present ideas, beefs, concerns, etc. to me ["jump ON IT!"]... meeting up with Misner at The Mart That Walton Built and talking for quite a while... also seeing Nick and AJ from work there was keen. Funny talking to people outside of work; it's as if I expect them to bark the usual sayings, but in this moment they are real people too and they buy their food at Wal-Mart. Huh.

It's 3:30 in the a.m., and I'm going nutty. Why, why am I still up? I think Radiohead put it best: "You do it to yourself. You do."

I don't know how the stars hang
Or how there's night and there is day
I dont know how you spoke into the black
And made it all obey

All I know is the bleeding in my heart
And the healing in your touch
All I know is that you gave everything
So let that be enough
'Cause it's all I know

I dont know how your love works
How you cover me in grace
I dont know how you swallow all I am
When I can't stand my taste

All I know is the bleeding in my heart
And the healing in your touch
All I know is that you gave everything
So let that be enough
'Cause it's all I know

-Matt Wertz

Yep, that about does it.

I really don't have anything to say, but I'm sitting here and bored as ill. Soo... write, I will. Doing laundry, including $16 of new [to me] threads I acquired at the discount mission in Wabash on the way home today. I'm stoked about my buys, I won't deny it. I do consider them a score.

David and Dad are watching The Two Towers extended edition, and Dave gets pissed at me every time I talk during it ["Jon, it's a special feature! C'mon!"]. So I'll sit tight. Dan's gone to Fort Weezy to watch his girl space friend play indoor soccer, and he took my car, the little player. Mom's already prepping T-Day breakfast. She's a trooper.

I'm basically just gon' sit by the phone until Nerecia inevitably calls [or will she?] after finally rolling in from Bloomington for the holiday. I got a voicemail from Jace a while ago. The Black Eyed Peas came up in his convo with a friend, and he thought of me. He thought I should know. I guess I feel cool. Jace is cool. The Black Eyed Peas are cool. V-mail is def cool.

I have so many issues of Relevant, Spin, Rolling Stone, CCM, and Entertainment Weekly to catch up on over break. I haven't seen Smallville in 4 or 5 weeks. I have no clue what's happened in the world of The West Wing or Ed. I dunno when I last read a book for fun, but I have a stack to sort through that has me salivating. Where does time go?

I suppose it goes to pounding away at an online journal. Huh. Whodathunkit.

I'm starting to think I should sell ad space on this page, but it seems of late that the most interested buyers would be Nyquil, Gillette razors and Prozac. And I won't cater to those.

So, last nite: a great time. Went to Indy for an ATO bro's 21st, two days after the fact. Five of us ate at Nickel Plate in Fishers [I recommend any of their burgers, mmm] then headed to my big bro's townhouse in Carmel. From there, it was on to Broad Ripple, for Kretz's and my virginal B.Rip experience both. Actually, it served to be the first B.Rip foray for a lot of people. I guess that explained a lot...

It was an oh-so-random nite. We slipped into Landshark's twice briefly, jumped next door once for open mic nite at Whatever That Dive Was Called and saw the largest singer/songwriter ever flexing his chops and his 'ceps on the acoustic axe. The guy had to be 300 pounds easily, yet he possessed this strangely soothing-yet-raspy voice. I doubt anyone else noticed, let alone cared.

Anyway, we -- meaning 9 or 10 ATOs, a trio of "friends of ATO" and Leesa [what a sport -- man, she's fun] -- headed over to Pepper's for the rest of the nite at about midnite. Some cover band [maybe their name was Lame] sucked it up for a while, shuffling anxiously thru mid- to late-90s hits by the Pumpkins, 311, Bush, et al. before thankfully breaking. Soon after entering, we simply took to some stools and tables in a back corner and talked. And talked. It was great. I talked to guys I hadn't seen more than once in the last four to six months and loved it. Olds' flame Sucily [sp, prolly] was a riot too. She reminded me of Nerecia from high school in the 'Saw, and that's a good thing.

We headed next door where randomness took a stranglehold on the nite for good. In short, Kretz and I "broke up" a fight outside the pizzeria [thankfully escaping being impaled by the spikes on the jackets of some guys] and talked to an old guy on a crutch who loiters in Broad Ripple every nite and goes by the moniker "Blue." Jimi and I encountered, and I conversed with, the coat checker at Pepper's -- all 3 feet of her. She was as tall as the doorknob on the restroom door at the pizza place. I know that because I measured while the three of us were trading spaces inside the women's restroom. Whew. Too much subtle humor for this forum, I think.

On the whole, the nite was a blast. I seriously can't wait for the pics to come back that Leesa took ever-so-subtly took for me. Now more than ever, I pine for ATO being an active fraternity on campus. My brothers are the best. There's really no way of saying that without sounding totally "greek," and I don't care. I'll call it a frat too. Why? Because I live for abbrevs. Anyone who knows me at all knows that. Back to the point, I am thrilled that my qualms about not being recognized by the university and brothers graduating have been refuted by the facts. We've banded together, and it's more of a true fraternity. We spend time together because we truly like each other. Yeah, yeah, there are problems and personality clashes and what-have-you, but I love those guys. I'm not sure they know that, but it's truf. And the guys who've graduated -- most importantly to me, my big bro -- have wanted to stay in contact beyond "college." It's encouraging, and I guess I'm hoping it's a precursor to the future.

I'm excited that Pollen and "Nucklet" will be back next semester from London and France, respectively. I'm excited at the possibility that they'll both return as eurometrosexuals. Hah. I'm stoked to see Gus again, fresh off his sabbatical/internship in Miami. I'm excited for the prospect of getting down to Jimi and Baker's townhouse in Carmel before semester's end to hang out with them. I am excited for my big bro's steady ladyfriend, and the fact that he has her on his mind when he goes out. He told me that going out and spending a lot of money or gazing at girls isn't so appealing when you have something like he has going on. He has no idea how heartening that was to me.

Being a music aficionado, I have to say a smile comes to my face every time I think that the two most memorable songs of my fraternity experience have been Billy Joel's "Piano Man" and "Jump On It" by Sir Mix-A-Lot. I don't think I would have it any other way.


This has been a lot longer than I intended for it to be, but it was just a running thought process, and anyone who cares, deals. This all wouldn't be complete without a little...

Ruh-rah-rega
Alpha Tau Omega!
Hip-hurray, hip-hurrah
Three cheers for Alpha Tau
A-T-O!

Hurt

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stain of time
The feeling disappears
You are someone else
I am still right here

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

I just want to make a record of some of the songs I've been listening to of late, ones that have had some impact in my life the last few days/weeks. Maybe they'll be fodder for some self-realizations sooner or later ["Why was I listening to this song at that time, and what did it do for me?"]. They aren't intended to serve as examples of my music schnobbery, but rather to gauge in a way where I stand right now, if even that. I'm no music psych, but I do think life has a soundtrack.

1. Jealous Kind / Jars of Clay
2. Freedom / David Gray
3. Love Song / The Cure
4. Promise / Spoken
5. Nothing Is Impossible / Jennifer Knapp
6. I Hung My Head / Johnny Cash
7. My Immortal / Evanescence
8. Amazing Grace / Jars of Clay
9. Two Points For Honesty / Guster
10. At My Most Beautiful / R.E.M.
11. Skyline Pigeon / Elton John
12. The Wanderer / U2 and J.Cash

There are a lot of things in life that don't really make sense. Some have never made sense, and some just don't make sense right now. I'm sure the vagueness of this entry doesn't particular make sense either, but I digress. I've got quite the penchant for digression. Anyway, after realizing in the last week that I cannot think/talk/will/run myself out of depression, I've decided it's time to get help. For real this time.

What doesn't make sense to me right now is how I really think I have friends who want to see me get better with some things more than I seem to want to get better. It makes about zero sense, right, but does it not make some sense? I'm starting to see that it does. It would seem that I've been quite happy a lot of times being unhappy. I've used depression and some other struggles as a crutch on which to prop myself up. This has crippled my faith, my passions and my life. I've been letting certain important aspects of life atrophy: looking for Truth, relationships with family and friends, my loves for reading and writing, my future prospects [internship/job what?], etc.

Not to rehash -- but to rehash -- I'm not happy that I find myself being all too happy and content with others seeming to care to the point that they'd say "get help" or something to that effect. They seem to care more than I do or else be more cognizant of destructive behavior on my part. These people know who they are, and I think they know also how I feel about them. I appreciate that, or should appreciate them, more than I think I understand right now. I think I've been embroiled in some things, habits, etc. for so long that I don't even see them anymore. I need to be called out on those things. Someone who would know said that I can't exactly understand or gauge objectively where I am on things because I'm too close to them. I think that's true. I can see now that I can't really understand the sheer size of my pride until I have to swallow it.

I know this is gonna be a haul, and I just hope I have the courage to surrender a lot of things and be pruned in order to be the man I was intended to be. Growth and healing involve pain first. Well then let the cut begin.

This is probably going to make the previous post appear as if some Care Bearish spirit had taken over my mind and body for a spell. Hah.

Today, November 18, 2003, can just go away. I don't want it back. I want to listen to angry rock music and be pissed off and not do the 32 pages or so of papers that are due in the next 18 hours of school. I want to spout off about just about everything under the sun that I deem to be less than kosher in this moment. Freakin' meaningless, this day, this semester, this homework, this job.

Maybe today wasn't so incredibly bad, but I have a well-chronicled penchant for perpetuating the negative and letting it bleed over into just about anything else going on. I made a whopping $25 dollars at work tonite. Needless to say, that ain't gon' pay the bills, any bills. Better yet, the co-workers in my section decided to make a half-assed effort at cleaning or finishing their closing work. They each probably made about $20 more on the night than I did. Woe is freakin' me. I think I was to get another lesson tonite in just how fickle people can be. Oh boy, rant in waiting.

A couple people tonite, good friends, did their best to come at me with love and encouragement, and I just really didn't want it. I really appreciate them... but do I? Good grief, I hope I do. But I just wasn't having it on this nite. I wanted -- and want still -- to sulk and mope about the state of the semester to date. God, I hope it's still salvageable [sp? who cares!]. Today-slash-tonite's just another brick in the wall of isolation and disappointment that have been fall 2003. What up, purgatory? It seems the best edification I get of late comes from a girl at work, the checker supervising my section last nite, whose encouragement seemed to do more in 5 hours' time than I've gotten in the last 5 days. And she's not yet a Christian. To me, that's saying something.

Something I honestly am just despairing over this semester -- and I believe it's a holy despair -- is how Christians, by definition followers of Christ, treat each other and people who aren't particularly living out a life of faith in God, at least not one on par with how these people think they should be living. I have seen this firsthand and must say I've not felt so alone in my life struggles for quite a while. The typical Christian's response to someone grappling with struggle or sin: "Ah, man... that's rough. You should pray. Read you some Bible. [pause] Hey, I'll be over there if you need me." There's a certain concept called availability that a lot of believers don't seem to understand, and it's disconcerting. If we as Xians are going to be pursuing Christlikeness, then we need to be in life's trenches with one another. We can't even get along or avoid talking about each other a lot of times. It's pathetic. "But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness" [Hebrews 3:13].

Lord, do I feel more than a little hardened. I just don't feel like sharing some things of my life with fellow believers right now. So many of the ones I know just make the most idle, inane comments or display a real dearth of compassion or care in their words and actions. Hmm, reminds me -- as so many things do -- of a song:

Your message is clear, you sound so sincere, your intentions are good
the forgiveness of sin, life without end, I'd believe it if I could
But I've watched from afar and I've seen how you are with the people you're around
and I don't see a trace of the love and the grace you talk so much about

If you want to lead me to Jesus
you better find a better way
'cause your life is speaking so loud
I can't ever hear a word you say
-Grover Levy, "Lead Me To Jesus"


I had a friend who was just as vibrant and eager as all getout last spring to learn about God and pursue Jesus as the joy of his life. He's in a totally different place this fall. Why? He watched what he perceived to be judgments, hostility, scorn and gossip-mongering that a friend of his, a Christian living with other Christians, endured from his housemates. Have we ever considered that God's people seem to have a knack -- whether knowingly or not -- for driving people away from God Himself? It pisses me off to no end. Seriously, what is setting us apart here?

I read a great article at Relevant magazine online [http://www.relevantmagazine.com/modules.php?op=modload&name=News&file=article&sid=2107&mode=&order=0 is the ridiculously long addy to it]. The last four 'graphs especially read like something out of my mind's journal the last three months. "I am thankful that [God] is so gracious to let me explore the boundaries of our relationship. He will let me wander, but He will not let me go. He will allow my heart to be broken, my relationships to be shattered, my own security to be questioned in order to draw me back to Himself. I have been given an insight into what it is like not to know Him, to be separated from Him, to be alone. Like a child, I desire to find rest in the comforting arms of my Father. I want to trust Him again to get me home safely."

As Johnny Cash sang on his collaboration with U2, I went wandering. Sometimes I think I still am. But as Rich Mullins sang so simply, "There's people been talking / They say they're worried about my soul / Well, I'm here to tell you I'll keep rocking / 'Til I'm sure it's my time to roll." Man, those two guys were so earthy and blue-collar. I wish I and a lot of people I know were so honest. God has definitely let me wander and seek out both life experiences that I deemed pleasurable and His presence in my life. Like the author of the article linked above said, "He will not let me go." Sometimes, I honestly just feel haunted by God [in a good way, largely]. I believe I have been so close to Him before and experienced true joy and contentment and love there, and when I don't so much feel that, it has me just flatout haunted with the specter of breathing Him in again. I am so prone to leave, and my heart is broken. Some of my closest relationships are either waning or already seemingly departed. I just don't trust many people right now.

God, please bring back the sun. Better yet, bring back the Son. Days like today just make me want to fantasize about heaven.

Today has just been good, I mean, daang good, and I want to record its passage.

I got up earlier than usual -- 8 a.m.-ish. That itself is no small feat and belies the fact that I also went to bed early the night before. Second straight night of "sittin' the hack," as my dad would say, by midnite and not a sec later. Mmm, good. I find myself to be crazyproductive the next day, compared to those days I reluctantly retire between 2 and 3 a.m. [well, like tonite]. Anyway, my day...

Class was highly bearable, all three of them, even in getting back an 80 on a media editing test. Eh, you'll have that. And I surely did. I garnered the story for expo magazine [yes, Ball State does in fact have a campus mag] that I'd written a proposal for earlier this week, and I'm excited about it. It's gonna center on the Living Room downtown and what it's doing for local musicians and students. I think it could be a tight POW [meaning, piece of work]. Yeah, I'm not really sure if that abbrev flies either, but smoke it up to 2:30 in the a.m. My review of the new Jars of Clay record appeared in 72Hours, the Thursday tabloid-style insert in the Daily Noose. Of course, it was considerably edited down, presumably for length, and boasted the cover art and star rating for a previous review of the Strokes' new release. Well, hey, it ran anyway, right?

I had a couple real convos with people/friends on campus today I maintain that nothing is greater and more friend-like than someone who will show you his battle scars, insecurities and doubts and anything and everything. I had a great couple hours with Scott Zick too. I am just flatout encouraged by him, perhaps just as much indirectly -- by what I observe in him and his life -- as directly. I really value that.

The meeting with my prof for my final 15-pager in the ol' Irish lit and culture honors colloquium [should a class really have such a long title?] went strikingly well. I am actually a bit hyped for my final paper in there, a look at the spiritual journey, gospel and soul influences and stories behind the lyrics of U2, perhaps the greatest band ever. I have the liberty of talking about U2's collabs and relationships with B.B. King and THE Man, Johnny Cash, he of the blue-collar, stripped-down folk country. It's interesting to me how the Irish, particularly Dubliners, would compare themselves to blacks in America circa the 1960s. The plights for rights both groups have endured are not exactly parallel, but the comparisons are intriguing, and, well, Rattle & Hum -- U2's documentary-style movie that coupled with the record of the same name, is a great, great film [if this all bores you, feel free to stop reading].

Oh yeah, I went to Campus Crusade tonite also for the first time in a month. It was the best CCC meeting I've been to this semester. Seriously. The new campus director, Mr. Sarver, is a gifted speaker, and I luh-lah-LOVE that he is all about Grace, God's perfect, redeeming Grace. As a friend hinted tonite also, for her and me both, I do believe I'm on the cusp of understanding and accepting new freedom in this area. Grace is so weird, so free and ready to be taken if I would just accept it. I guess growing up with a crapload of rules and regs has led me thru a lot of life with the mindset that I have to earn things I receive, and, well, I got nothin' here now. Might as well accept it because it's so ripe. If you haven't understood or known God's Grace in your life yet, I'd love to talk about it. I hope you'll let it be for you.

Posted by: Jon / 2:56 AM (0) comments

"To live by grace means to acknowledge my whole life story, the light side and the dark. When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest and I still play games. Aristotle said I am a rational animal. I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer."

-Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel

Sometimes I wonder why I even keep this thing going. Nevertheless, it's 11:30 in the p.m. and I find myself at this monitor, again unable to sleep. How can it be so hard to sleep when one drove 4.5 hours home from Ohio today and then worked one's backside off at work for 6 hours [last nite of training(!)]? And why do I keep referring to myself with the generic pronoun "one" when this is a journal, not a philosophy term paper? I don't get it. I don't get myself.

Let's see, what else is troubling me. Oh yes, friendships. I don't understand why it seems to be so difficult to maintain them, let alone build on them. I feel I'm doing a flunk-worthy job at present at the former of the two, and the latter of them, well, it seems to have been on the backburner all semester. A lil' harsh? Perhaps, but it feels like it, and I won't discount the suck factor that seems to be beleaguering some relationships that are really important to me. MAN, do these things take work.

Then again, they should always be fun, maybe even in the darker times. A mentality of "Well, crap, I wonder just how God's gonna work this one out" might be in order as a healthy response to relational breakage. Truth is, I don't even know how these breakdowns in communication and feelings of resentment are precipitated. I do know that I do a handy job of perpetuating them at times, and for that I wish I could summon the courage and humility to apologize to more than one person.

In short, I just want to laugh again. I want to fo' real laugh again. I feel like I haven't since this summer, or at least not regularly by any means. And when I do, I can be a lot of fun. This is possibly my last fall in school, and I said earlier this semester that "My year is not going to suck. I simply won't have it." I stand by that statement. I'll laugh again, of this I'm sure. I could very well laugh tomorrow. Yes, on a Monday even. God's in the business of rocking my world time and again, and I'll grant Him that opportunity gladly. Hopefully I take hold of it when He does.

Man, I feel like I've gotten so... serious in the last couple years. I guess a lot of "stuff" has come into the light. Learning lessons, seeing one's own dirt revealed to himself and to others and being with them as they also air their own can be taxing, emotionally, spiritually, relationally and probably in other ways brought to you by the suffix "-ally."

I miss some people in my life. I miss people near and far, some of whom I've brushed shoulders with recently, but unfortunately that seems to be all I've managed to do with them. Brushing shoulders. I had a good weekend, but I don't feel I should have to try to convice myself of that.

So I'm waiting by a phone for the blessed ring
Like a holy grail for the fisher king
Time is ticking down like a metronome
Rhythm for my brain, and its ceaseless scales
I never seem to play them to the beat I hear
Though my heartbeat is a beat that beats so near

So I'm changing who I am
'Cause what I am's not good
And I know you love me now
But I don't see why you should
And I don't see why you should
No, I don't see why you should

So we had a talk last night about the heavy blow
That you dealt in fright, your back against the wall
It was a puzzle piece, important to the whole
That I may not find to place within the hole
I never seem to put them in the gaps I see
Like a puzzle with the pieces lost you need


So I drift into the air like a moth to light
Down the boulevard to a coffee shop
In the land of song, in the land of waits
My pen is bearing down on this lonely town
I never seem to write them down as good as him
Like I somewhere lost the keys that let me in

- Matt Slocum, "I've Been Waiting"

SB. Empire Records. Pizza rolls. Honey wheat pretzel twists. Smirnoff Black. Wit and laughter. 4 a.m. These are a few of my favorite things.

Unfortunately, 9 a.m. is not one of these. Regardless, it comes, and today will be a good day. There's no way around that.

I took advantage of having no Friday class and fall break to sub teach at home a couple days. You know what that means! From within the hallowed halls of Warsaw High, another edition of sophomoric teen humor:


Me: Where did you find this note*?
Boy: In the trash.
Me: You were digging in the trash?
Boy: Yeah. I'm black. Black people dig in the trash.
[*note's contents at end of post... includes a couple zingers].


[I shut door as bell rings for class to start...]
Boy: Question...
Me: Yes?
Boy: Do you care if we cuss?


Boy: Church is boring. It makes me sleepy.
Girl: Don't you go to the Catholic church?
Boy: Yeah.
Girl: I'm Catholic too. How can you fall asleep? It's sitting and standing, sitting and standing the whole time.


Boy1: What's yo' name, boy?
Boy2: LeVar Burton, suh.


Me: So, I take it that it's Orange and Black Day for homecoming.
Girl: Yes, and I'm wearing black. Who else is wearing black?
Boy: I'm wearing black. I always wear black. Because I'm gothic.


Me: You guys back there are talking about the Boston Massacre, right?
Boy: Forget that! Give me the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.


The Aforementioned Note:

Kelly,
Hey! What's up? We have a sub and this girl in our class is hitting on him. It's pretty disgusting 'cause this girl used to be a football player. Anyway, for Friday night my sister's working so she can't come to spy club. You're bringing Jordan? Good. I'll bring Jenn. But nobody's going in the Camero [sic]. We're keeping this rated PG like you did with Lauryn. Oh wait.

Landon is being such a deusch [sic]. He kept telling Jenn & me such crap. Don't let her come to sectionals. No one wants him there. You can bring Jordan. I think I'm having a war w/ this. Me & him are trying to make each other jealous which is insane. Well, I guess I'll see you in a little while... later.

Unsigned.
-------------

Ohh, kids. Somewhere in all this hullabaloo, I'm developing more and more of a passion for being in the classroom [as in, being a teacher]. Guess I'll have to figure out what exactly to do with that in the next couple months.

Dance With My Father // Luther Vandross

Back when I was a child, before life removed all the innocence
My father would lift me high and dance with my mother and me
And then spin me around 'til I fell asleep
Then up the stairs he would carry me
And I knew for sure I was loved

If I could get another chance, another walk, another dance with him
I'd play a song that would never, ever end
How I'd love, love, love
To dance with my father again

Sometimes I'd listen outside her door
And I'd hear how my mother cried for him
I pray for her even more than me
I pray for her even more than me
I know I'm praying for much too much
But could you send back the only man she loved
I know you don't do it usually
But dear Lord, she's dying
To dance with my father again

Every night I fall asleep and this is all I ever dream