I love bodies of water. I love sleeping outside in the woods. I'm always afraid of what's in them though.
After twilight begins to fade into the night one can only see the outline of the treetops. The night sky is a navy blue at this point, but the trees are a giant black-blotted mess, allowing one to still be able to distinguish the darkness of the sky from the trees. It's at this time, when I was a child, that I thought they might be giants standing shoulder to shoulder. Sometimes when the wind would blow I thought that was them pushing and grinding up against one another trying to find a comfortable position.
I hate that I can only identify the dippers and Orion's Belt in the night sky. I've had an astronomy book since I was in the 4th grade with a wheel which can spin according to the month and hour that you're in, revealing the constellations that can be seen in the Northern Hemisphere. Every few years I pull it out and try to figure it out but get aggravated and put it away. It's a kid's book. This makes me feel like an idiot.
The last few inches of a cigar become increasingly hot and nasty in taste. I keep smoking to the end though because at the end the cigar produces more smoke, which I like to play around with when exhaling. By the time I finish it my mouth tastes so nasty I go brush my teeth until I can only taste my toothpaste.
When I am having a sense of love coming upon me, whether this be of friendship, romantically, or family, but cannot act upon it I can't enjoy movies, games, or other forms of entertainment. The only thing I can think of to do is to go out into wild, exercise, or sit by myself at night. Right now I haven't been getting in shape for the right reasons; it's more of an escape from my mind.
When I try to remember being younger I can't remember the state of my mind. It's just pictures and images, but I always attribute my present beliefs, justifications, etc. to the memory, as if I've never changed.
I have a specific laugh I do amongst friends when I think what they're saying or doing is wicked but I don't know how to tell them.
Waiting and uncertainty in combination will drive me mad. Even when I know in some situations the two are necessary I can't get my mind to drive the two away. The longer I have the two, the more each tends to amplify the other.
I probably have less than 10 real friends. And after rereading my Aristotle, I'm more inclined to think this. I've gone through my life being friends with people because of utility or pleasure but rarely have I found someone which I have goodwill, a since of similarity, and an acknowledgment of some virtue in them coupled with the desire for it to grow. I can identify them when I miss them or when I will go through pains for them, or most notably...both.
I enjoy music better late at night when it is faint and sounds raspy like an old 1950's radio.
My familial experience is messing up my concept of storge. However, the more I fight with my immediate family the more I reach out to my extended family. I suppose I somehow know a need for it and am instinctively trying to hold some sort of family together in my head. My philosophizing has found me God, and has nearly run me off from my nuclear family. I don't know what to do about it.
A girl once let me borrow an orange plastic ring when I was about four or five. I had a moral battle about whether or not to return it. In the end I decided to keep it. My mother found it and had me return it shortly before we moved away. I never stopped feeling the guilt from that decision.
I once got in an argument with a kid because he took a ball I had called dibs on sometime earlier. When we got in an altercation over it I went ahead and popped him on the nose. My substitute teacher for the day turned out to be his mother. She took me inside to give me a talk which turned into her slapping me across the face. I remember having blurred vision and a strong sense of embarrassment. By the time my parents found out it was the end of the day and there was no physical proof of the slap. She was put elsewhere and I remained embarrassed for not being able to do something about it.
Somewhere between three and six I went through our mail and found a pornographic magazine. It's the earliest I remember lusting. I didn't understand what I was looking at. My mother found me standing in the living room trying to figure it out. She told me it was a mistake and wasn't supposed to be in our mailbox. I've never mentioned it to her again. I don't know if she was telling the truth or not.
My best friend and I got into a fight in first grade. I hit him three times in the face then pulled his hair till he hit the ground. He cried till his parents picked him up thirty minutes later. I felt bad for knowing that our argument was no reason to fight.
I got into trouble at five for throwing a giant moth over the fence. I was trying to save him but my teacher insisted I was being malicious. She told me I could have broken his back. She was my math and science teacher who taught me about bugs. I told her bugs didn't have spines to break. She got angry and made me sit on the wall for the rest of recess. I felt betrayed since I thought we were good friends.
I remember being three or four and walking around the corner to see my father laying hands around my mother's throat. I never told them I remember it.
I recall guilt tripping my father for having a photograph of another boy on his dresser. I told my parents I was going to run away. I asked if he had another son and he told me no. At twelve I found out it was my older brother Adam. If I was the father I probably would have done the same.
The day my brother Dallas was born I was three. I still remember sitting with my mother and watching Jaws with my father at the side of the bed. I had to leave until after the birth. When they told me I could come in I bolted down the hallway and tripped short of the door, getting a nasty rugburn on my nose in the process. Years later I found a photograph of Dallas' birth, my nose burnt with excitement.
In fourth grade I had a friend named Dan. Dan had troubles running and a speech impediment. A friend and I took him under our wing and taught him how to overcome his awkward legs so that he could run and play soccer with us. It was customary to trip people during our games. The first time Dan did it two boys jumped him knowing he was too weak to defend himself. When I saw it I ran over and beat both of them. That was the first time I used my fists for a Just cause.
In second grade I was put through anger management without my parents consent by the school. They didn't find out till I told them years later. I didn't know that's what it was till years later.
I've been in love 13 times in my life, the earliest was 3rd grade. Most of these never played out due to my shy nature. The times they did they were always based on utility or pleasure. Maybe 13 will be my good luck charm.
My favorite number is 13. I was born on a Friday 13 and my mother was, my brother was supposed to but he decided to go all he-man and ninja-kick his way out sooner. Ever since I was young I always thought 13 meant that other peoples times of poor luck were the times I would find good luck.
I remember bragging to my brother that I could "turn anything evil" with words. I guess I never overcame that corrupting ability till college.
My father wrote a poem for my assignment in the 4th or 5th grade. My mother for me in the 7th grade. I was lauded for my creative writing at these ages but I couldn't write poetry. Interestingly enough I picked it up in my undergrad days.
If I'm 28 and not married I'm going to be one unhappy camper.
I say I have all these theological issues with not being Roman Catholic but the truth is I decided to go Anglican instead of RC because I wanted to marry and be a holy man. I do have issues now, but they weren't deciding factors then. I was undecided on papal authority and still am.
My will is incredibly weak. I have to internally yell at myself to avoid evil and do good. When I'm having trouble I say to myself "militant will" continuously to remind me of the strength and distinction the will has from desires.
I hate it when people tell me they were uncomfortable attempting to talk to me because I seemed too intellectual or intimidating. I hate it more when I tell them I see myself as neither and they only see that as pride.
I have an obsession with love dialogues. Chalk it up to my Platonic education. My experience has shown me I am unsatisfied unless I have all four types: agape, eros, philia, and storge. I used to worry that such talk seemed unmanly, now I think it's something I need to know in order to be a man. Every man needs God, a woman, a family, and friends if he is to be virtuous/pious and happy.
I regret the way I treated my brother when growing up: the times I left him at the house, the times I called him stupid, the times I made him feel helpless. I've apologized many times but he never believes I mean it.
I wish I had wanted to learn more from my father when he offered to teach me things.
I hope my mother finds something more in life. Growing up it seemed that nine times out of ten she looked unhappy. I wonder sometimes if I was the only one in the family that noticed.
I wish my family knew more about forgiveness. It appears that every side of my family tree is wrought with rifts, feuds, and bad history.
I hope someday in the future that when I say "what ought to be" isn't confused with "what I want."
I almost quit my campus ministry job several times during the first semester.
I never felt like I really fit in with people my age. The things I want to talk about it, the ways I enjoy hanging out, the things that I see guiding my decisions, what I'm looking for. Maybe it has something to do with my lack of true friends. I always did what others my age did because if I didn't then I would have had no one.
The only things that get me truly excited, that sense of exhilaration that comes from the excessive feeling of greatness or mystery, is fear and eros. In Costa Rica I enjoyed what I did, and saw it was good, and this had its own appropriate emotion, but the only time I was excited was when our team decided to trek out into the jungle, into the unknown. And now when my mind is not kept busy my heart races to uncontrollable levels and it feels as if it's carving a pit into my chest. And all I can do is run out my door and down the street and back until I'm out of breath and my body has nothing left to do but collapse. And even all my philosophizing and reading is but a momentary escape, for it does nothing but remind me.
After twilight begins to fade into the night one can only see the outline of the treetops. The night sky is a navy blue at this point, but the trees are a giant black-blotted mess, allowing one to still be able to distinguish the darkness of the sky from the trees. It's at this time, when I was a child, that I thought they might be giants standing shoulder to shoulder. Sometimes when the wind would blow I thought that was them pushing and grinding up against one another trying to find a comfortable position.
I hate that I can only identify the dippers and Orion's Belt in the night sky. I've had an astronomy book since I was in the 4th grade with a wheel which can spin according to the month and hour that you're in, revealing the constellations that can be seen in the Northern Hemisphere. Every few years I pull it out and try to figure it out but get aggravated and put it away. It's a kid's book. This makes me feel like an idiot.
The last few inches of a cigar become increasingly hot and nasty in taste. I keep smoking to the end though because at the end the cigar produces more smoke, which I like to play around with when exhaling. By the time I finish it my mouth tastes so nasty I go brush my teeth until I can only taste my toothpaste.
When I am having a sense of love coming upon me, whether this be of friendship, romantically, or family, but cannot act upon it I can't enjoy movies, games, or other forms of entertainment. The only thing I can think of to do is to go out into wild, exercise, or sit by myself at night. Right now I haven't been getting in shape for the right reasons; it's more of an escape from my mind.
When I try to remember being younger I can't remember the state of my mind. It's just pictures and images, but I always attribute my present beliefs, justifications, etc. to the memory, as if I've never changed.
I have a specific laugh I do amongst friends when I think what they're saying or doing is wicked but I don't know how to tell them.
Waiting and uncertainty in combination will drive me mad. Even when I know in some situations the two are necessary I can't get my mind to drive the two away. The longer I have the two, the more each tends to amplify the other.
I probably have less than 10 real friends. And after rereading my Aristotle, I'm more inclined to think this. I've gone through my life being friends with people because of utility or pleasure but rarely have I found someone which I have goodwill, a since of similarity, and an acknowledgment of some virtue in them coupled with the desire for it to grow. I can identify them when I miss them or when I will go through pains for them, or most notably...both.
I enjoy music better late at night when it is faint and sounds raspy like an old 1950's radio.
My familial experience is messing up my concept of storge. However, the more I fight with my immediate family the more I reach out to my extended family. I suppose I somehow know a need for it and am instinctively trying to hold some sort of family together in my head. My philosophizing has found me God, and has nearly run me off from my nuclear family. I don't know what to do about it.
A girl once let me borrow an orange plastic ring when I was about four or five. I had a moral battle about whether or not to return it. In the end I decided to keep it. My mother found it and had me return it shortly before we moved away. I never stopped feeling the guilt from that decision.
I once got in an argument with a kid because he took a ball I had called dibs on sometime earlier. When we got in an altercation over it I went ahead and popped him on the nose. My substitute teacher for the day turned out to be his mother. She took me inside to give me a talk which turned into her slapping me across the face. I remember having blurred vision and a strong sense of embarrassment. By the time my parents found out it was the end of the day and there was no physical proof of the slap. She was put elsewhere and I remained embarrassed for not being able to do something about it.
Somewhere between three and six I went through our mail and found a pornographic magazine. It's the earliest I remember lusting. I didn't understand what I was looking at. My mother found me standing in the living room trying to figure it out. She told me it was a mistake and wasn't supposed to be in our mailbox. I've never mentioned it to her again. I don't know if she was telling the truth or not.
My best friend and I got into a fight in first grade. I hit him three times in the face then pulled his hair till he hit the ground. He cried till his parents picked him up thirty minutes later. I felt bad for knowing that our argument was no reason to fight.
I got into trouble at five for throwing a giant moth over the fence. I was trying to save him but my teacher insisted I was being malicious. She told me I could have broken his back. She was my math and science teacher who taught me about bugs. I told her bugs didn't have spines to break. She got angry and made me sit on the wall for the rest of recess. I felt betrayed since I thought we were good friends.
I remember being three or four and walking around the corner to see my father laying hands around my mother's throat. I never told them I remember it.
I recall guilt tripping my father for having a photograph of another boy on his dresser. I told my parents I was going to run away. I asked if he had another son and he told me no. At twelve I found out it was my older brother Adam. If I was the father I probably would have done the same.
The day my brother Dallas was born I was three. I still remember sitting with my mother and watching Jaws with my father at the side of the bed. I had to leave until after the birth. When they told me I could come in I bolted down the hallway and tripped short of the door, getting a nasty rugburn on my nose in the process. Years later I found a photograph of Dallas' birth, my nose burnt with excitement.
In fourth grade I had a friend named Dan. Dan had troubles running and a speech impediment. A friend and I took him under our wing and taught him how to overcome his awkward legs so that he could run and play soccer with us. It was customary to trip people during our games. The first time Dan did it two boys jumped him knowing he was too weak to defend himself. When I saw it I ran over and beat both of them. That was the first time I used my fists for a Just cause.
In second grade I was put through anger management without my parents consent by the school. They didn't find out till I told them years later. I didn't know that's what it was till years later.
I've been in love 13 times in my life, the earliest was 3rd grade. Most of these never played out due to my shy nature. The times they did they were always based on utility or pleasure. Maybe 13 will be my good luck charm.
My favorite number is 13. I was born on a Friday 13 and my mother was, my brother was supposed to but he decided to go all he-man and ninja-kick his way out sooner. Ever since I was young I always thought 13 meant that other peoples times of poor luck were the times I would find good luck.
I remember bragging to my brother that I could "turn anything evil" with words. I guess I never overcame that corrupting ability till college.
My father wrote a poem for my assignment in the 4th or 5th grade. My mother for me in the 7th grade. I was lauded for my creative writing at these ages but I couldn't write poetry. Interestingly enough I picked it up in my undergrad days.
If I'm 28 and not married I'm going to be one unhappy camper.
I say I have all these theological issues with not being Roman Catholic but the truth is I decided to go Anglican instead of RC because I wanted to marry and be a holy man. I do have issues now, but they weren't deciding factors then. I was undecided on papal authority and still am.
My will is incredibly weak. I have to internally yell at myself to avoid evil and do good. When I'm having trouble I say to myself "militant will" continuously to remind me of the strength and distinction the will has from desires.
I hate it when people tell me they were uncomfortable attempting to talk to me because I seemed too intellectual or intimidating. I hate it more when I tell them I see myself as neither and they only see that as pride.
I have an obsession with love dialogues. Chalk it up to my Platonic education. My experience has shown me I am unsatisfied unless I have all four types: agape, eros, philia, and storge. I used to worry that such talk seemed unmanly, now I think it's something I need to know in order to be a man. Every man needs God, a woman, a family, and friends if he is to be virtuous/pious and happy.
I regret the way I treated my brother when growing up: the times I left him at the house, the times I called him stupid, the times I made him feel helpless. I've apologized many times but he never believes I mean it.
I wish I had wanted to learn more from my father when he offered to teach me things.
I hope my mother finds something more in life. Growing up it seemed that nine times out of ten she looked unhappy. I wonder sometimes if I was the only one in the family that noticed.
I wish my family knew more about forgiveness. It appears that every side of my family tree is wrought with rifts, feuds, and bad history.
I hope someday in the future that when I say "what ought to be" isn't confused with "what I want."
I almost quit my campus ministry job several times during the first semester.
I never felt like I really fit in with people my age. The things I want to talk about it, the ways I enjoy hanging out, the things that I see guiding my decisions, what I'm looking for. Maybe it has something to do with my lack of true friends. I always did what others my age did because if I didn't then I would have had no one.
The only things that get me truly excited, that sense of exhilaration that comes from the excessive feeling of greatness or mystery, is fear and eros. In Costa Rica I enjoyed what I did, and saw it was good, and this had its own appropriate emotion, but the only time I was excited was when our team decided to trek out into the jungle, into the unknown. And now when my mind is not kept busy my heart races to uncontrollable levels and it feels as if it's carving a pit into my chest. And all I can do is run out my door and down the street and back until I'm out of breath and my body has nothing left to do but collapse. And even all my philosophizing and reading is but a momentary escape, for it does nothing but remind me.
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