Christmastime is here

"Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to
Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he was a second father. He became a as good a friend,
as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other
good old city, town or borough, in the good old world . . . and it was always
said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive posessed
the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim
observed, God Bless Us, Every One!"

I think I'm going to try to read this book every year at Christmastime, and maybe even in the summertime. Mr. Dickens, thank you for the blessing that this book has been!

There was one problem though. I, like many of my friends, have seen many different cinematic renditions of this Christmas classic before actually reading A Christmas Carol. That being the case, all I could hear in my head as I read was Gonzo reading along with me. The Muppet Christmas Carol was a very formative part of my childhood (don't laugh), and to it's credit, much of the movie is taken line for line from the book! Hurrah!

So before I go off to dream of sugarplums dancing, or whatever it is they're supposed to be doing, I would like to thank Amy Cannon for coming up with the most amazing adjective ever: Neato Spameato! And to echo Tiny Tim (sniff) God Bless Us Every One!

zzzzzz . . .. . .

In the past two days

I've gotten a grand total of . . . .






2 hours of sleep

But I got an A at Don Rags

I think I'm going to sleep for a week

Can you say amazing? Cause I can

Wedding Dress

(words and music by derek webb)

if you could love me as a wife

and for my wedding gift, your life

should that be all i’ll ever need

or is there more i’m looking for

and should i read between the lines

and look for blessings in disguise

to make me handsome, rich, and wise

is that really what you want

(chorus)

i am a whore i do confess

but i put you on just like a wedding dress

and i run down the aisle

i’m a prodigal with no way home

but i put you on just like a ring of gold

and i run down the aisle to you

so could you love this bastard child

though i don’t trust you to provide

with one hand in a pot of gold

and with the other in your side

i am so easily satisfied

by the call of lovers less wild

that i would take a little cash over your very flesh and blood

(chorus)

because money cannot buy

a husband’s jealous eye

when you have knowingly deceived his wife

It's been awhile since a christian artist has made me think. If anyone could be considered the lyrical equivalent to Bob Dylan in the evangelical world, it would be Derek Webb. Although I've heard this song a million times, each time is like hearing it for the first time. Like seeing a sunrise, or hearing your loved one laugh, it is new with every experience.

I am a whore. To lust, to pride, to avarice, to gossip, to the chains of sin

I am a bastard child, adopted into the family of God, saved by the deep and unfathomable grace of Christ.

I am covered, in all of my filth, all of my rotten, despicable nature, by the purity of Christ

I am weak

I am strong

I am a slave

I am free

Hooray for Random, or maybe not so random posts

"Why do you fight, Maximus"
"For the glory of Rome"
"And what is that? There was a dream that was Rome. You could only whisper it. Anything more than a whisper and it would vanish, it was so fragile."



"Is Rome worth one good man's life? We believed it once. Make us believe it again. He was a soldier of Rome. Honor him."


"Death smiles at us all. All a man can do is smile back."


For the glory of Rome . . .

For now . . .

"After all, he's not a tame lion"
"But he is good . . ."

I think my social fantasy is thinking that if Lewis and I ever met, we'd get along pretty well, and I would be able to call him Jack. Except it'd be one of those socrates/mentee kind of relationships

"Yes Mr. Lewis"
"Of course Mr. Lewis"
"I don't know, Mr. Lewis, would you please enlighten me?"

Something about the image of four children sitting on thrones really sticks out to me, but it is much too late for me to ponder this, so I will leave my ruminations for tommorow, if anyone cares.

Why?

Tonight was good. Not just because it's christmas time, not just because there's cold root beer in my refrigerator, but because maybe, just maybe I'll make it through the next 4 years. My torrey group had a christmas party today, semi formal (I will never ever figure out what that really means), and it's really interesting to see how close we've gotten in such a short time. To see a group that was akwardly sitting around making akward comments and looking akwardly at each other a few months ago at convacation and now see us laughing and carrying on like we've known each other our whole lives is not only refreshing, it's an answer to prayer. Near the beginning of the semester I was really wondering whether I made the right choice to come to Biola, whether I should have gone to Michigan instead and studied english. Now I know that I'm where I'm supposed to be, not because I'm around a bunch of smart people who talk about literature, but because we've gotten past that. We can stop trying to impress everyone around us and get down to who we really are underneath. Homer group may not be perfect, I may not know everyone as well as I would like, but we're getting there and there's no where I'd rather be.

But then there's always the walk back down to Stewart by myself to get me thinking again . . .

I've been pretty good about it this semester, mostly because I've been too busy to think about it or too tired to care, but it popped up in my head again.

I guess I'm just tired of being alone

I'm not clawing to get into a relationship or anything like that, and I know that there are more important things I need to worry about (like the paper I need to finish up tonight), but I also know from this semester that man was not made to live alone. I don't even want any of the hand holding or kissing stuff; I just miss having someone to talk to about everything, anything, and nothing at all. I miss having someone to talk about Fawlty towers, about British Comedy, about bluegrass, about God. I miss having someone to listen to. I miss having someone who wanted to tell me the stupidest, smallest, most insignificant part of their day.

But I guess it really doesn't matter anymore.

Can you feel it?

I am a music major.

I am the epitome of impracticality.

Is that okay?

It's been said that beauty is its own reward.

I believe it.

It's just hard sometimes.

People dream of ending hunger.

People dream of riches and fame.

People dream of finding the one.

I dream of a world where people have learned to feel again . . .