I’m a big fan of cohesiveness. God is too, apparently. He has a crazy knack for arranging everything in my life harmoniously, and not just that, but harmoniously pointing me to Him. I felt led to read Romans, so I started. A friend who is not a Christian wanted to read the Bible with me. She wanted to start at the beginning. We’re about halfway through Genesis now, and as I read about Abraham in Genesis in conjunction with reading about Abraham in the context of Paul’s letter to the Romans, it paints a broader picture than either one alone. God has been revealing to me who He was for Abraham, and then who He was for Paul and the early Christians in Rome, and then He challenges me to take the next step and ask myself who He is for me….
more to come on that when the dangerous effects of sleepiness (described below) are not wreaking havoc on me…
“help me believe, because I don’t want to miss any miracles. maybe I’d see much better by closing my eyes.”
I just realized that I have my undies on inside out. The things that happen in a sleepy stupor. Usually I just lose muscle control–I drool, I drop things, I trip over flat ground, I drool some more…drooling’s a popular one. I noticed it one summer when I was working at camp. After a month or so of sleep deprivation, I began to drool in the shower. Then I began to drool at work (not a great thing to happen when you work in the cafeteria). Then I began to drool just sitting around. Today at work, I was cashiering. A girl paid with a 20. Instead of putting in the computer that she’d paid $20, I put in that she’d paid $0.20. Then, to make up for it, I meant to type in that she’d paid an additional $19.80. Instead, I said that she’d paid an additional $18.80. This made sense in my head at the time. I tried to explain to her why her receipt said that she’d paid $19.00 instead of 20. I just confused us both further.
Any of the managers at American Eagle SoHo (flagship store…#81) and my high school chorus teacher, Mrs. Watts, will tell you that it’s hard to shut me up. I’m 24 years old and I still get fussed at for talking too much (it’s Kenny’s fault I promise). Yet the moment I decide to be a writer, I suddenly have nothing to say. What have I done, after all, in my short and sheltered life that would be worth anyone’s reading time?
But if you really want to know, here’s a peek under my short and shelter:
I’m angry with my cell phone company. They are the devil (collectively), comparable to the man in the Bible who was possessed by the demons. He said to call him Legion because he was many. Negativity’s not really my forte, though, so moving on. They know who they are anyway. I wrote them a letter. They never responded. Satan.
I’m in love. An ode will probably follow at some point. For now, wait for me Bobby. I’m coming home soon.
Picasso’s Men w/Horns pulled out a big one last night. They needed it after the last Upset (note the capital “U”). It was genius. They slaughtered Columbia’s third string JV intramural team. Beautiful. Just gorgeous. The Deuce took it up while the Cake Man did some fancy footwork. Sir Phatty rocked the ice up and down, and Hyun took it to the net repeatedly, leaving the Keep in devastated anguish. Meanwhile, Mostly Mikely was bored out of his gourd, not even working up a sweat, and by the time it was 9-0, nobody really cared any more when we scored. Megan and I clapped lightly in a golf-like manner in the midst of our language dork conversation and discussion of Jesus (who is Jesus, and he knows it).
Hello? Is this thing on? Am I blogging now?