I've posted a short prose poem at Nights Awake 2.0.

On the WWE website is a little section called Foley is Blog. As it turns out, Mick Foley (see also his profile on WWE.com) is an excellent writer, and something of a humanitarian. I found the February 22nd entry to be particularly inspiring, and wanted to point it out. The entire entry is good, but check out the section under the heading Herma Grace.

I found this on Liesel's blog, and was intrigued. I've always been curious about what people really think of me. Not an uncommon thought, I'm sure. But this is an interesting device to discover just that.

Behold. The Interactive Johari Window and its counterpart, The Interactive Nohari Window.

If you decide to participate, perhaps the use of a nondescript, anonymous pseudonym would be in order. Something like "X1," so the next person can take "X2." That way, there will be no reservations about being totally honest. Just a thought.

I've made a couple posts over at Nightsawake 2.0. Be thou informed.

Also, I'm greatly enjoying Mark Buchanan's Your God is Too Safe, a well-put-together treatise on how wild, dangerous, and loving God really is. He is, you know. Thanks, Mum. Good Christmas gift.

And finally, Amanda has introduced me to a softer world, a very artful project indeed. Please, browse the archives and find your favorites.

I remember being advised to stay within the lines when I was coloring as a child. It’s not like anyone was trying to limit my creativity; it’s just that if you don’t stay within the lines, the picture is totally incoherent at the end. The lines blur under patches of color, and the image becomes something else.

Today, we in the modern West are presented with an increasingly abstract image. Long-familiar lines have become blurred and obscured.

The line between life and death – should it not be clear? – is disturbingly ambiguous. Medical technology permits us to prolong a failing pulse… indefinitely? How alive is the comatose woman, devastated by a car accident a decade ago, sustained only by life support? And who decides when to turn off the machines? Somewhere, there is a line between life and unlife, but where? As a nation, we still cannot agree on whether a pregnant mother carries within her an unborn child, or merely a fetus. The difference cannot be overemphasized.

Gender lines have been drawn and redrawn. A thousand maps exist, a thousand theories on who is who and why. I told a friend that I’d never met a transgender person, and she told me that I had, naming them. That, I realized, was why I’d had a problem figuring out whether they were male or female: they were in-between. Even for those who remain in their natural sex, gender roles are continually rejected and recast. Homosexuality moves into the mainstream, and the questions continue to pile up. What happens to parenting, or romance, or family, when male and female are all but interchangeable?

The private blurs more and more into the public. People worry about the prevalence of surveillance technology, the constant monitoring and tracking of their day to day lives. They then proceed to post deeply personal information – thoughts, gripes, vendettas – on the Internet. (I am sharply aware that this blog is accessible by a startling number of people throughout the world, but it seems that many bloggers are not.) While on the Internet, they can easily find descriptions, pictures, and video of the most explicit and intimate personal acts imaginable. Sex and more. This trend is reflected not only in the dark (and light) corners of the Internet, but in practically every other form of mass media. Is it permissiveness, or openness?

Truth and falsehood slip increasingly into obscurity. Spiritual beliefs have been assigned their own corner of reality: they cannot be right or wrong. Everyone believes what they believe, and everyone is right. Even if their beliefs contradict. I posed this question to a friend: if she didn’t believe in trucks, would she die if a truck hit her? “No,” she said. I hope she was an extreme example.

Change is afoot.

And the price? Confusion, at least, and on any number of levels. Loss of innocence. Some of our social experiments, I think, shall fail. All that remains to be seen is which, and how badly. Some, however will be great boons to society. I am cautiously optimistic about the advent of the blog, and the idea of bringing wide scale publishing to the masses. I think a certain level of openness on the subject of sexuality is quite healthy.

But when I read in the first chapter of Genesis about the Earth being formless and covered in darkness, I think of a world with no lines, no boundaries. Everything is permitted, supposedly. But the Holy Spirit still hovers over the face of the waters, eagerly awaiting the day when the darkness will be utterly removed, and the lines that have always been there will be undeniably clear.

Because in the end, some lines cannot be erased by man.

Every so often, there's a survey or somesuch making the blogging rounds that's worthwhile. The following is a list of questions you ask a music player set on random. Given my extensive iTunes playlist, I had to give it a shot.

In the end, it seems that iTunes is generally a poor oracle. I hope.

Here goes.

~ ~ ~

Q: What do you think of me, iTunes?
A: “A Stray Child” by Akira Ymaoka, from the Silent Hill 3 Official Soundtrack

Either I’m a street urchin, or I’m doomed to whack horrid abominations with a lead pipe. Cool.

Q: Will I have a happy life?
A: “Skyway” by the Replacements

Hmm. The song is about an imaginary transportation system. This does not bode well. And the girl gets away.

Q: What do my friends really think of me?
A: “P5hng Me A*wy” by Mike Shinoda and Stephen Richards, a remix of “Pushing Me Away” on Linkin Park’s Reanimated.

Oh, grand.

Q: Do people secretly lust after me?
A: “Tonight” by the Orange County Supertones

A song about the end of the world. So, maybe if I were the last man on Earth.

Q: What does [insert significant other] think of me?
A: “Technicolor Jackets” by Blood Has Been Shed

Whoa. A hardcore rock song. Whatever they feel, apparently they feel it strongly. The lyrics suggest that I have a lot to learn. About… something.

Q: How can I make myself happy?
A: “Stalker Goes to Babylon” by the Pillows

*laughter unto death*

Q: What should I do with my life?
A: “Good King Joy” by Trans-Siberian Orchestra, a medley of “Joy to the World,” “Good King Wenceslas,” and some blues action.

Make a joyful noise. On it.

Q: Why must life be so full of pain?
A: Track 2 on Nick Cates’ “Jesus Songs”

Amen. Heh. Y’all gotta hear Nick’s stuff. Ask me about Track 4 sometime.

Q: How can I maximize my pleasure during sex? (hey, it was on the list.)
A: “Until It Sleeps” by Metallica and the San Francisco Orchestra

*fighting back chuckles* Note not only the name of the song, but the fact that it’s fom a CD called S&M.

Q: Will I ever have children?
A: “H.” by Tool

If that’s the case, I hope not. Yeesh.

Q: Will I die happy?
A: “Prayer” by Disturbed

A resounding no.

Q: Can you give me some advice?
A: “Battle, Scene II” by the Black Mages

Cool. I’ll get my sword.

Q: Do you know where your children are?
A: “Ghost Love Score” by Nightwish

…kids! Time to come inside! KIDS? Uh, oh.
Good think I have my sword.

Q: What do you think happiness is?
A: “Sad Happy” by Cold

Dang, iTunes. You okay?

Q: What's your favorite fetish?
A: “Death Star Canteen” by Eddy Izzard

Turn-ons: Black plastic armor, asthma. (A Drake running gag.)

For me, every day is Christmas. Though the official feast day has passed, Jesus continues to invade.

Today, a repost of a story I composed and put up last year. I hope it will remind you of miracles.

The First Noel, 2004

    The Hanukkah travel rush was over, and Bethlehem was quiet again. Hence, the corner where Ben Simon worked the graveyard shift hadn’t seen a car pass in ten minutes. He looked up from his English textbook and peered across the street, to the small booth where his friend Isaiah worked. They had both gotten late-night jobs at gas stations at about the same time, and frequently used faux company loyalty as an excuse to pick on each other. Diagonally across the intersection from Ben was a third gas station manned by Mordecai Steinberg. While Ben and Isaiah had the occasional squeegee fight in the middle of the empty road, Mo usually stuck to his booth dutifully, reading the Torah.

    Tonight was too cold for squeegee fighting, and the batteries had just run out in Ben’s Game Boy. His parents were mad at him for working on the Sabbath, and he had homework due on Monday.

    Ben was all but dozing off when someone knocked on his Plexiglas window. He started and sat up on his shop stool.

    “Sorry. What do you need?” Ben rubbed one eye with his palm as he looked up.

    Outside the window stood a young woman wearing a military dress uniform. She was all straight lines – vertical spine, squared shoulders, and perfect uniform creases. And yet her face was gentle, hinting at a smile. Ben had no doubt she could take him apart in a hand-to-hand fight, and no one would make fun of him for getting beaten up by a girl afterwards.

    Her eyes grabbed his, very pale and very clear, and she smiled. “What are you doing here?”

    All at once, the world burst open. Light poured through the dingy windows of the gas station, and left no shadow. Ben Simon’s ears popped, his eyes widened, and he threw up his hands in terror. The woman outside the window threw light like a pure white sun, her smile only growing wider.

    “Don’t be afraid!” she whispered to Ben. “I bring good news. The best news the world has ever heard. An hour ago, right here in Bethlehem, a Savior was born. The Messiah, Ben. Right here.”

    At her words, the fear began to drain away. Ben lowered his hands and looked at her. Her eyes were bright and full of joy, and they stole his breath away.

    The Messiah. Here.

    He found his breath, struggled to pull it in. “Wh-“

    “Not five blocks away. Down the street,” she said, lifting her arm to point, “you’ll find a newborn, wrapped in cloth. He’s in the laundry room of the hotel, lying in the sink.”

    Ben barely had time to picture the King of Kings in his makeshift cradle before the angel looked over her shoulder, laughing. A battalion of soldiers in the same uniform, burning brighter than the day, swept in on wings of gold and silver, filling the intersection and the surrounding streets. Their voices shook the walls of Ben’s booth as they shouted, “Hallelujah in the highest! Peace on Earth to the favored of God!” There voices were as joyous laughter, filled with love and zeal.

    The angel looked back to Ben, her wings unfolding like the sunrise. “Go, go!” she shouted giddily, and he lifted herself from the ground. Behind her followed the rest of the brilliant soldiers, shouting their chorus again and again. Moments later, the night was quiet again, and Ben could hear only his own riotous pulse. He stumbled out of his booth, staring at the sky, until he finally looked down to see Isaiah and Mordecai standing next to him.

    “You... you heard that. You saw it,” Ben stammered.

    “I know which hotel she meant,” Isaiah started, stealing glances at the stars. “We should... I mean, we’ve gotta- Mo! Wait!”

    Mordecai Steinberg had turned and run headlong back toward his gas station, pumping his arms like an Olympian. He spun about breathlessly and shouted back:

    “I’m getting my car! Don’t move!”

* * *

    “Fernando! Is it refreshing?”

    “Crap, I’ve got no bars. We hit a dead pocket... no! Wait, there it goes. What does it say?”

    “Turn around! Shaun, turn around!”

    The van halted sharply, and the young man and woman in the back braced themselves as best they could. Bina Zarafshar clutched at the notebook computer on her lap as the monitor swung forward and down. The cord running from the computer to their team’s cell phone snapped taught, and Bina caught her breath.

    “Ai!”

    Fernando noticed at the last second and pulled down his hand, slackening the cord. He chuckled nervously and sat down. “That was bad. Almost tugged it right off your lap.”

    “It’s okay. It’s fine. Wait. Did we-“

    “Yes, yes, we got dropped. But we’ve got good reception here. Good spot to reconnect.”

    Shaun parked the van and climbed into the back.

    “How close are we?”

    Bina looked to the chart. The latest data from the feed had been factored in, and the numbers were huge. Monumental.

    “Oh, we’re close.” She couldn’t help but laugh. They were almost on top of it. “Try turning right back at that last intersection.”

    Fernando nodded and grinned eagerly. “This is too good. Too good. You should redial now.”

    “Oh! Right.” Bina double-clicked the link to her ISP, and the cell phone began dialing. None of them considered the absurd charges they were racking up, connecting to the Internet through an international call. The signal shot through the atmosphere, and a few moments later, the connection was up again.

    “Good,” said Shaun. “You let me know if we get dropped again, okay?” His eyes grinned every bit as much as his mouth. He hopped back into the driver’s seat.

    “Of course. Just brake easier!” Bina looked back to her screen. She logged back into the University network, and the feed began again. “All right, we’re receiving data... yes, definitely turn right back at that intersection. The stream was almost off the chart right there.”

    “Let me see,” Fernando said, leaning in to see the screen. Bina turned it toward him, and he laughed aloud. The graph, which read “Divine Particle Density,” showed a spike in an already remarkably high, steady level at about the time they had passed the intersection.

    “When we show this to the Nobel committee,” Fernando smirked, “do you think they’ll mind the name ‘divine particle?’”

    “It’s as good a name as any for what they are,” Shaun shouted from the front, putting the van back in gear. He swung the vehicle around as fast as he dared and headed back along the road. “Tell me the convergence hasn’t moved.”

    Bina shouted back, “No, it hasn’t moved for hours! And it has to be in this town... where are we?”

    “Bethlehem!”

    “No, what country?”

    They all laughed. For all they sleep they had gotten in the past week of tracking and traveling, they should have been exhausted. But sleep was far from their minds.

* * *

    No one was doing laundry this late, thankfully. There was a slight draft from under the door, but other than that, the room was warm enough. Joseph leaned on the wall by the sink, sleeves rolled up, looking down at his son. He hadn’t stopped grinning for hours. He couldn’t help but think that there was a better place to put him, but he had dried out the basin well enough. And besides, the child had been sleeping peacefully since the doctor had left.

    Joseph sighed happily and threw a glance at Mary, who stirred on her cot. A few thin, dark curls still stuck to her wet forehead, and her face was still ever so slightly flushed. Joseph knelt by her side, by his wife’s side, and let himself just stare at her face. Her mouth was barely open, her breath steady and calm. A nice change of pace from... had it only been an hour ago? He shook his head in awe and smoothed Mary’s hair back from her face.

    “My God,” he breathed, “you’re amazing.”

    Her breath drew in sharply, and her eyes flickered open.

    “Oh! Did I wake you up? I’m sorry...”

    “No, no, it’s okay,” she said sleepily, squinting her eyes and stretching. “Is the baby still...”

    Joseph nodded. “Yeah. Still asleep in the... sink.” He chuckled despite himself.

    Mary smirked, shaking her head from her prone position. “The sink. Oi.” She slipped her hand into her husband’s, catching his eye. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

    Joseph squeezed her hand and held her gaze. He merely nodded, and leaned in to kiss her.

    It was then that the doorknob turned. The couple looked up sharply as a young man poked his head into the room.

    “Hello?” he said.

    “Hello,” Mary replied. There was suddenly no sleep in her voice, and she sat up on her cot.

    The young man was jostled forward by someone behind him. He stepped through the door, and two other teenagers followed, all scanning the room expectantly. They all wore blue uniforms with the logos of three different gas stations on their breast pockets. Their eyes settled on the sink in the corner at the same time. The one in the back gasped. “Is that... is the baby...?”

    Joseph threw his wife a confused look, and found her doing the same. “How do you...”

    “This way! It’s got to be right here!” came a woman’s voice from outside, speaking English.

    A moment later, three Americans burst into the laundry room, carrying a laptop hooked up to a cellular phone. They all wore wrinkled, lived-in shirts and jeans, and were watching the screen of the laptop with awe in their eyes. The only light-skinned one of the three, who had nothing in his hands, looked urgently to all those assembled in the small room.

    “Please, tell me one of you speaks English.”

     The three gas station attendants, Mary, and Joseph, all began speaking at the same time, in English.

    “Oh, thank God. Look, there’s a completely unique quantum event happening in this room, right here! We’ve been tracking it from America for the last nine months, and... what is it?”

    Bina had set down the laptop and walked over to the sink, almost in step with Ben. Joseph took a step toward them, but Mary put a hand on his arm. The Jew and the gentile peered over the edge of the basin.

    And there, wrapped in three of his father’s old t-shirts, was the child, his breath whistling softly through his nose. If peace were a child, it could be none other than this. Ben’s breath caught in his throat, and Bina’s eyes lit up.

    “It’s him.”

    “It’s a child,” Bina gasped.

    Joseph breathed deeply, still uncertain. “How did you know we...?”

    And all at once, the rest of the new arrivals realized that they had found what they were seeking. Suddenly they were all laughing in delight. Ben knelt by the sink, eyes locked on the Anointed One. Shaun grabbed Fernando by the shoulders, tears in his eyes. “A child! Of course it’s a child!” He turned to Mary and Joseph to explain just as Mo Steinberg did the same, and they launched into their stories as one.

    “Wait, wait, wait!” It was Ben, who only now looked back up from the sink-turned-cradle. He held up a hand for silence, and turned reverently to Mary and Joseph. “What is his name?”

    Mary met his gaze, slowly beginning to smile again. “His name is Joshua.”

    They all took in the name in silence. Fernando grinned and nodded in approval. “Joshua. Jésus in Spanish. It means...” His voice trailed off.

    Mary nodded with him. “The Lord saves.”

Christmas Morning

It's been decided.
For a change of pace,
it will be the stars
that will shine down
on God.

There's been an interesting discussion on existentialism on Chase's blog. Check the comments on the Friday, Nov. 18th post.

I am contemplating becoming a student again, this time at William Jessup University in Rocklin. Those of you readers who pray, please do pray for me. My plans are only the most basic at the moment, but I'm hopeful things will come together soon.

I'll bet you'd never have guessed my next post would be about artificial sweeteners.

Not long ago, my Mom and I attended a nutrition class at our church. The instructor loaned Mom a video entitled Sweet Misery: A Poisoned World. Mom was so impressed with the movie that she had me watch it.

As it turned out, is was a documentary on the harmful effects of aspartame, commonly markeded at Nutrasweet. I took the information to heart and have since been telling people, offhand, that aspartame is dangerous. I didn't really questioned the documentary until last night, when Liam raised some objections to the chemistry behind Sweet Misery.

So, I leapt this morning into Wikipedia, and found their article about aspartame, which, incidentally, confirms the content of Sweet Misery.

I encourage you all to at least take a brief look at the findings before having another diet soda. A quick summary: when digested, aspartame breaks down into methanol, aspartic acid, and phenylalanine. All of these substances are potentially harmful to the human body, though to what degree remains controversial. That said, please note the heading "Recently published research" near the bottom of the article.

Heh. Also note that from here on out, you will be seeing a lot of Wikipedia citations in my posts. It's an amazing site, and I encourage you all to visit it frequently. Poke around, and see what you can find.

While I'm not generally one to repost quiz results, I had a feeling about this one. Took the test, and turned out to be right. In color, at least.

Your Hair Should Be Purple

Intense, thoughtful, and unconventional. You're always philosophizing and inspiring others with your insights.

What's Your Funky Inner Hair Color?

 


The picture above is from several years ago. Every so often, I think of going back. Very tempting, indeed.

[a brief sampling of quotes I've saved from friends and family:]


You can go places in crazy, even if you already are crazy. It’s a matter of partitioning.
   - Amanda

Some people are so smart that they just have accents.
   - Alex

Damn you and the alphabet!
   - Cody

Oh, Eh, FBI Can Kiss My Ass *Speaks Directly Into The Camera*
   - Matt, from an IM conversation

It’s so much helpful…er.
   - Jenna

Twinkies are the snack equivalent of roaches.
   - Cody

Do not butt me with your butt!
   - Kathi

Nick, make a reflex save as the tyrannosaurus breathes fire on you.
   - Dave

I think caramel corn is the answer to my problems.
   - Mum

Yeah, I've been at this roleplaying thing for a while. It's essentially an exercise in improv acting and using a rules system to your advantage. I try to focus more on the character aspect, but it's easy to get involved in a discussion of character classes, hit points, and special abilities.

There's been at least one game of one kind or another going among my group of friends for several years now. I've been involved in a lot of them, creating and playing a whole bunch of characters in a whole lot of settings. There have been a few serious moments, but mostly just frivolous good times, making up stories and getting away with stuff you just can't do in real life.

It's time once again to sort through the stack of roleplaying character sheets in my satchel, and figure out which to let go. Only this time, it's interactive! I'm gonna run down the list, and any of the relevant Storytellers, Dungeon Masters, etc. who read this may kindly let me know if I'll ever need them again. Feel free to also post reminisces, etc.

And now, from top to bottom:

Whisper of the Rushing Wind, Celestial Exalted.
Modeled after Judi Dench. Functioned as a guide in Liam's Exalted game, in which the characters were invited to the renewal of wedding vows between the Sun and Moon. I only played in one session, but it was quite amusing.

Lee Simons, a.k.a. Lost Packet, Seattle Police cybercrime officer.
I sorely miss this game. A cyberpunk setting, as one might guess, with much of the game taking place in cyberspace. Lee's avatar was a cartoon rabbit with ghetto wear and twin uzis. There were hilarious antics involving a swarm of digital bats. Hats off to Liam for that one.

Caleb Tears-of-Gaia, abomination.
That is to say, a vampiric werewolf. It's easy to miss the fact that abominations are full of roleplaying possibilites, because they're so powerful as to be unplayable in most settings - except by the most trustworthy of players. I took the opportunity to play one in Shannon's post-apocalyptic World of Darkness setting, since it wouldn't have been particularly unbalanced there.

Kar'Dath, Narn drug dealer.
I know I don't need this character sheet any longer, since the character has long since lost his mind and died in a prison revolt. I'm keeping it mainly for the picture I drew of him, which started a tradition in Carolyn's Babylon 5 game. Goofy pictures make for good character sheets.

Vinzo Targa, Centauri telepath.
My unplayed successor to Kar'Dath in Carolyn's B5 game. The game was thoroughly enjoyable because of the emphasis on social play rather than combat. Anyone who's caught an episode of Babylon 5 will understand that tendency. The game was particularly memorable because of several moments, including the introduction of the immortal Dio Sabbath, Space Cowboy. Thank Drake.

The Razorclown, Abyssal Exalted.
An outstandingly evil, twisted incarnation of Zippy the Razorclown from days of old. Prone to flashy combat maneuvers, calculated madness, and jesterish dialogue. This game had less to do with full-on villainy than high adventure with a group of rather wicked people. Very fun until the lava tentacles showed up. Ow. Lenny did admirably besides, it should be noted.

Sergei, mutant Russian spy.
Member of Kyle Katarn's entourage in Matt's Rifts game. Post-apocalyptic fun for the entire family. And an opportunity for me to deliver snappy dialogue in a Russian accent. Many fun pseudo-memories.

Remar Sukos, Solar Exalted and travelling merchant.
I think I'm holding onto him so I'll have an Exalted character ready, in case Lenny decides to start up again. Notable because of his cool anima banner, and for the fact that he convinced a pirate not to sack his ship.

Thorn, dimension-hopping demon.
Making characters in any Palladium Games system - Palladium, Rifts, Beyond the Supernatural, etc. - is a gigantic pain. One day, I noticed that fiends in Palladium, Thorn's native setting, have the "dimensional teleport" ability. When Matt decided to run a Rifts game, Thorn simply leapt from high fantasy to sci-fi, just like that. His equipment list reads: halberd, mace, NE-300 "Stutterer" grenade launcher. Handy.

Zippy Von Zippy, the Razorclown.
A long-enduring character of mine in prose and roleplaying. The idea of a gothic clown with a gigantic sword and magic gloves that make fish catch on fire popped quite suddenly into my head, and hasn't left since. His character has developed significantly, in my mind, at least, since his original incarnation. I plan to have a story or two about him written... someday.

and finally,

Pedro Vallastrada, a.k.a. Pantera.
Anthropomorphic cat superhero. Also deceased. The tradition of goofy character pictures continued in Nick's superhero game, in a big way. And it was a good game besides, with a shocking twist ending: half of our heroes defected to the Nazi party, and only villains survived the grand melee that ensued. Alas, Pantera took his super-secret past with him to the grave. Unless I told everyone afterwards. I forget.

And that's the stack as it stands. Oi. That's a few characters. There are more besides, but those sheets are long gone. Marcus Robinson. Milos Daskalos. Gully Ironblood. Stuart the Bug. Sachiel the Blackguard. Orson "Osh-Kosh" Montblanc. Plenty of stories, lots of memorable moments.

I'll get into the philosophy behind roleplaying in a later post. For now, I'll sign off.

Whew. It feels good to be writing again, at least.

Dan pointed out to me how long it's been since I last posted something here. Sorry. Didn't feel like that long. In any case, there's news to report.

The car has been recovered, in working order, no less. In a twist of fate - ha, ha, bleh - I sprined my left ankle quite badly a week after my car was stolen. Will be in a cast for a couple more weeks, approximately. Only after I've healed will I be able to drive my car, which has a manual transmission.

All this thinking about career paths lately has led me to consider the ministry. That's still a big question mark at the moment, but I am particularly excited about a couple things. For one thing, more Christian education. Been wanting to learn more about the Bible and theology for a while now. There's a lot there to be learned. Also, connecting and serving more at Arcade Wesleyan. The suggestion has been made that I volunteer to be a Sunday School teacher. I like that thought. More and more, I see myself as a teacher of some sort, working with kids. Exciting. I haven't had a goal that I could actually describe as exciting in a long time.

So, I'm looking to get back down to Sacramento soon. Have to heal up and take care of a few expenses first, but barring disaster, I should be down there by the end of the year.

I'd like to get back to my much neglected fiction stories as well, but I'm not promising anything. I've got several hundred pages of deep theology to read in about a week, drafting work to do, and a wedding reception to attend.

Matt Turner's wedding reception, no less. Yeah, you read right. 3:00 this Saturday at Santa Anita Park. Come, ye friends from days of old. Shake the guy's hand.

Ahh, a post. Needs a closing. May as well steal from Paul.

"May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all." - 1 Corinthians 13:14

Amen.

Life update:

Plans had been formed to 1) find an extra job in Grass Valley, 2) save money, and 3) use said money to move to Sacramento and get my own place. Phase One had been completed - washing dishes at Rebecca's Mighty Muffins - and all was proceeding according to plan.

Last Sunday night, however, my car was stolen.

The plan has been, and is being, adjusted substantially. Details once the fragments settle into place. Suffice to say, the goal of being in Sacramento at the end of the year is looking well in hand.

Pray for me. Pretty stressed, not a little lonely, but hoping for the best.

Incidentally, I've invented a word.

Godwork: n. a seeming coincidence which is clearly an act of God, usu. resulting in an obvious, often long-awaited blessing.

Oddly enough, I didn't care terribly much when I discovered my car was missing. I knew God could use that for the best, and I'd manage. The stressful bit is having to decide on a timeline for moving to Sacramento, given a number of recently-emerged factors.

I get the feeling it's gonna require more work than I'd like. Which is to say, any work at all. I'm also getting the feeling that this is all part of God's plan to break me of my absurd laziness. Part of me is, understandably, dreading that process, but I'll be glad for it.

Much is coming.

I would like to note that there has been an uncharacteristic amount of activity over at Nightsawake 2.0. Please do visit.

As per the directions, I post the following:

1. Reply with your name and I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal. You MUST. It is written.

I'll at least pick a few of the above. The default jello flavor is champagne, because if there's gonna be any jello wrestling, it's gonna be a classy affair.

Destruction is certain for those who say that evil is good and good is evil; that dark is light and light is dark; that bitter is sweet and sweet is bitter.
-Isaiah 5:20 (New Living Translation)

Yesterday, Pastor Steve continued his sermon series on the book of Revelation. We had come at last to Judgment Day. Steve was excited about the message that morning, and us along with him. His energy was contagious. At last he read aloud the passage in which Satan's two servants are cast alive into the lake of fire, receiving their just reward, and he called for an amen! ...with rather weak results. He tried again, with a little goading, and we responded loudly, if still a little uncomfortably. Same thing when Satan himself was condemned to eternal torment. It was hard for us to cheer, somehow.

I thought about it during the service, and I realized that they all deserved it. For one thing, God's justice is just. The Bible is clear on that. And if you take into account what Satan and his servants do in the book of Revelation alone, their punishment should be harsh indeed.

Still, it's hard for me to cheer someone else's demise.

A case of sympathy for the devil? Perhaps. Largely, with me, it's just the fact that I myself totally deserve punishment for things I've done. Thanks to Jesus' grace, I'll be fine on the day of judgment. If we take the images from Revelation, God will call me to account for everything I've ever done in my life. Every secret, every vile thought, every drop of malice... and in the end, I'll have no excuse. And in the very end, He'll say, "All right. I'm glad that's done. Welcome home, son." Sometimes I envision myself feeling guilty for accepting grace, like it's a cop-out or something. But nah. I think I'll likely be a little to thankful at the moment.

I hate the idea that not everyone will make it to Heaven. Hate it. Some days it's easier than others to accept the idea that people are given a choice to take in Jesus, and that God knows everyone's heart, and is thus the only person who can rightly judge us. Some days I see people perpetrating evil in the world, malevolent and unrepentant, and I pray for justice. A second later, though, I often pray for their hearts to soften instead.

Some won't repent, but I pray that all will.

Then Jesus told them this parable: "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.
-Luke 15:3-7 (New International Version)

I've posted two of my anime music videos to AnimeMusicVideos.org. There's Killswitch Exile, and my Big O video. More to come, possibly. It's a large download, so those of you with broadband, go nuts.

To find my stuff, you can go to the main page of the site and search for "the razorclown."

We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
Maraud and embezzle and even hijack.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.
Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

We kindle and char, inflame and ignite.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We burn up the city, we're really a fright.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

We're rascals, scoundrels, villans and knaves.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs!
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

We're beggars and blighters and ne'er-do-well cads.
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!
Aye! But we're loved by our mommies and dads!
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!

"Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.
Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.
Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.
Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

(lyrics reprinted without permission. yar.)







Today, Liam is off and away to begin his service in the Navy. Abruptly. A fittingly dramatic exit, to be sure.

On the upside, I now have a chance of winning a game of Risk.

You shall be sorely missed while you're away, Crwuidth.