Tired of Feeling Guilty...

I was excited about this afternoon because I planned to come home from work, watch the bit about Grey's Anatomy on Oprah, possibly steal a few minutes of sleep and then sit down to write some stuff about the type of people who shop for Genealogy Books at Barnes and Noble.

Instead, Singleton's latest post and the ensuing comments jarred me back into being obsessed with the very difficult political and sociological conversations that center around words like "justice" and "peace," and places with weird names like "Rwanda" and "Darfur." Although these things, to varying degrees, are hopefully at the forefront of our minds, it's been a while since the good old Coffee and Culture days when the discussion made the blood rush to my head. But the blood rushed this afternoon and, to be honest, I didn't care for it much at all.

Truth be told, for the past few years I have come very close to throwing my energies behind the progressive and prophetic voices shouting in the desert, calling us to action. But every time I place my foot on the lip of the shoreline of action to test the waters, all I hear are the bitter, accusatory voices swimming around, looking for someone to blame and offering little in the way of actual solutions. I then realize the waters are just too cold for me and then I fall back on the status quo.

I'm tired of the status quo. But if my only other option is the illogical and inferred conclusion that Bush is to blame for the genocide in Darfur because he used force to remove a dictator in Iraq (presumably for oil, which is now interestingly much more expensive now than it was before the war,) while offering only the answer of "A greater multinational presence," in Darfur, then give me the status quo.

In other words, if you have a solution that someone like me can be a part of (like the Invisible Children Project) then count me in. But if all you've got is guilt and finger pointing, then find someone else.

I've long refused to participate in the bitterness of the Religious Right. The bitterness of the Religious Left will have to do without me as well.

What I Think...

--We are all too busy.
--We could all use some traction, possibly a little more inertia.
--It's possible we all may be afraid we are becoming too "touchy-feely."
--I think we should resist the urge to "take a step back."
--Dinner at La Fiesta the other night was the closest I've been to God in
a very long time.
--This format I'm participating in at the present moment is a lame excuse not
to do "real writing."
--I don't really care.
--I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm ready for a vacation.
--I can think of a lot worse things than being too sentimental. Of course they are all things I am not, making it easy for me to grade them "worse than sentimental."
-- I'm going to bed.

This Is Worth Braking My Self Imposed Break...

I just returned from a nice dinner with fellow UBC'ers Singleton, Harris, The Carneys, and the Dugans and on my way back thought about how humor is the stuff of truth and holiness and how I believe God lives on those grounds. I then read this.

Rest in peace, Barney and Mr. Furley. Thanks for the laughs.

Break...

There's a good chance I'll be taking at least a couple of days off from blogging. I've tried to post something everyday for the past few weeks. I think part of me doing that was a selfish decision to "keep my audience." As I mentioned, I think it was on Harris' blog, it takes a certain amount of ego and pretension to believe what you have to say is worth putting out there, and I've learned I have plenty of both.

But that really isn't the reason for the break. Today I started a 7 day work stretch and I'm in the final days of training for the Half-Marathon on March 4. I had no clue how much time that would take, but it's been exhausting. I need to spend whatever free time I have on that, on trying to do some writing for my writing group, on being alone a bit, and on spending some time with the people I love. I hope you return. I will.

In the meantime, dance till you can't dance till you can't dance till you can't dance no more. (I heard a little C+C Music Factory today and can't get it out of my head.)

Another Grey's Post...

I know my friend Janalee disagrees, but I think this past week's Grey's Anatomy was a perfectly written follow up to the previous weeks expolosion.

The "bomb episodes," which were titled "The End of the World," and "As We Know It," respectively, were intense. They made you search your soul and ask the big ultimate issue type questions. They both pounded at your soul and brought fear and anxiety and, in the end, gave us tragedy.

We then saw a newfound lightness in the characters. Dr. Bailey was still taking charge, but she was also asking quesions about the status of everyone. Izzy (perhaps because of all the sex) had a new bounce in her step and a genuine concern for her friends, which you chould see in the eyes she gave George who finally said the things he always wanted to say but was too afraid to(and also, presumably, got some sex,) and in the biggest turn of events, we saw Christina being, well, human. The patient with the facial tumor helped us see that outside the hard shell she conveys are "nice eyes."

This is what I wanted after the bomb exploded. I wanted to see the characters changed, and I was not disappointed.

Tragedy does that. It brings clarity to reality. It reminds us what is important. It lifts the fog and gives us visibility.

I never cried as hard as I did during the weeks after Kyle died. But I also never laughed as hard either. During those days none of us knew what the hell to do, so we just shrugged our shoulders, took a shot in the dark and lived the best way we knew how, even when it felt like we were just making it all up. Harris and I took Avery to see Chicken Little. Others made cookies and spread them around while others began blogs and wrote letters. We all told stories and said "I Love You," and hugged a lot. None of it made sense, yet it seemed to be the only sensible way to live.

It was the worst of times and we allowed ourselves to be affected by it. We are still being affected by it. Just like Meredith, George, Izzy, Alex, Christina and the rest of the gang.

Zero Visibility...

There's a Dense Fog Advisory in effect for the greater Waco area right now. This means when you walk outside you can't see very far. It's misty. The past few days around here have felt like being on the edge of the most barren and dark land. People all around me are sick and having difficult times and I have been tired and in a general funk.

I've teared up a lot today, and of course it's all been for the same reason. Driving home in the mess I couldn't help but think how much better this day would have been with Kyle in it.

As much as I love the Olympics, this evening has been the most I've watched of it. The German women won bobsledding gold. That Italian guy beat the Americans in the 1500 meter speed skate. I've got women's figure skating on pause while I write this, but I just saw Emily Hughes skate and when she hit one of those jumps you should have seen the fire in her eyes. This morning on the Today show her dad made the comment "She skates with so much joy."

The tears came after all of that. Seeing the people win and perform with joy, I cried not because I particularly care about these people but because the exciting stuff inside of them that we get to see every four years was just everyday, run-of-the-mill type stuff for Kyle. Watching them jump up and down with joy made me think of how Kyle lived every moment of his life-- with joy. Harris , whose latest post also made me cry, said it best: Kyle taught us that eternal life begins now.

This dense fog advisory is making me need a bit more of that eternal life right here and now.

Groggy...

The sleep hapbits of someone in retail management whose schedule is always in flux are quite unusual.

(I'm writing this in front of groggy eyes.)

During the first few awake moments my tired mind and body felt Saturday coming on. The sore from Sunday's run muscles were telling the sore from too much information and worries mind "It's Saturday, Saturday, Saturday. It's weird that it's Saturday, isn't it? Funny it doesn't feel like Saturday, but it's Saturday."

The mind replies, "It is funny it doesn't feel like Saturday. Maybe it's because we have to take Craig to work at 10:00 a.m. Oh well. You know what else was funny? That dream I gave him last night. The one about him being a part of Brittney Spears' entourage and all the work it took just for the group to go to Fuddruckers. It was really funny when I then brought Ann Lamott into the restaurant with two other writers he wasn't familiar with, although one had the name of a girl he knew in college and the other reminded him of his aunt Dotty. When all was said and done he was left running back home on the backroads between Belton and Waco and realizing halfway back that he should have given some of his writing to Ann Lamott to read. He'll be embarrassed about that dream later, but that's what he gets for reading too many tabloids during his breaks at work instead of good stuff."

Says the sore muscles to the mind, "You are strange, but that's ok. I'm just glad you told him he should take a day off from running today. I don't know if I can take this anymore. (And I think Nipples would agree.)"

Mind replies," Oh, you're welcome. I thought you needed a break, plus when he gets off I must help him complete what he will say tomorrow night at the HUB... wait a second. Tomorrow night is the HUB? Hey muscles..."

"Yeah"

"You know why it doesn't feel like Saturday?"

"No, why?"

"Because it isn't, it's Tuesday."

"I don't care, as long as I don't have to run for him it can be Christmas on a Wednesday."

"I can't believe I screwed the days up. Hey muscles, get his ass out of bed. It's Tuesday and he's got things to do."

Embarrassment...

I own the two most embarrassing stories from yesterday. The first is a simple slip-on-ice-and-bust-my-ass, run of the mill, story from a native Texan who really doesn't know how to respond to cold weather.

The second is slightly more humorous.

My plan for this week was to run 13.1 miles, the length of the half-marathon. Since it was cold and icy, I decided to run it at the gym on the treadmill. Since I'm on my lunch break I can't elaborate about every mile of the journey, but I'll let you know the story ends with me completing the 13.1 miles and no, I do not fall at any point. It's worse than that.

By mile ten I was feeling pretty good about myself. I wasn't too tired and I knew I could finish. But I did notice several people kept looking at me. I thought they were probably marveling at my athletic prowess, since that is a common occurrence. But by mile 11 I realized the looks were getting longer and more serious. I realized something must be up, but was too intent on finishing the run to care very much.

Somewhere between mile 11 and 12 one of the young girls who works at the gym walked by, glanced at me, then her mouth flew wide open and she said "Oh, no, you're bleeding!"

I look down and see two spots of blood. Would you like to know where the two spots were located? That's right. The blood was flowing from my nipples.

Tom told me this happened and now I can confirm, it happens. It's time I pull out the band-aids.

GEORGE O'MALLEY IS MY HERO!!

As Promised...

I've got a lot of things to do today, such as run 13 miles, spend some time with the cutest 3 kids in the world, and buy a pair of shoes. But the important things first-- As promised, here are further thoughts on Grey's Anatomy.

-- I'm kind of indifferent to the whole Izzy-Alex storyline now. I DO believe, thought, that their sex romp during the previous two weeks crisis was probably realistic. If you are facing certain catastrophe, well, I'm sure that happens a lot. I'm glad Alex passed his practicals. His character is weird because I don't know whether to sympathize with him or to call a spade a spade and just admit he's a total ass. Izzy, however, I love, and would rather see her with someone else, possibly a viewer from Waco, Tx.

-- Ok, here's possibly my most controversial thought, but I have company in Jonathan Potter. Mr. Dr. Shepherd should stay with his wife. I'm a much bigger fan of Addison Montgomery Shepherd than of Merdith Gray. Sure she cheated, but I really think she loves her husband. I am also attracted to very strong-confident women, and she is both. And her beauty is much more mature-old school than Meredith.

-- I was starting to not like Meredith Grey until I read this blog from the creator and chief writer of the show. She reminded me why Meredith is the way she is and now I can forgive her for being a whiny bitch.

-- One of the things I'm interested most in seeing after the previous two weeks is how the characters will have been changed as a result of the whole bomb incident. And the change I'm most interested in seeing is in Dr. Bailey and how she reacts to being a mother, and to being so affected by George's actions during her birth. If the writers keep her the same (this also goes for Christina) I'll be a little disappointed.

-- So everyone loved it when Dr. Webber's wife made the comment "That's not the 'she' he was looking for." If you are new to the show you need to know why this is significant... Earlier (I think it may have been last season) Dr. Webber, the chief of surgery, had to be out for a while because of a medical condition and he needed to name an interim to take his place. He chose Dr. Shepherd because he found out about Burke being together with Christina, one of the interns. What he didn't know is that Shepherd was also sleeping with an intern, Meredith. Burke new it, but used class and didn't say anything. But now Webber will probably find out about Shep and Grey.

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.

So needless to say, I really love this show. If you do to, and you are in Waco, stop by tonight. We'll have a group watching it together.

Saturday Morning...

It's Saturday morning and my clock reads 9:23. I go to work at 10:00 and right now am waiting for my clothes to dry. It's quiet. Just the occasional car driving down Austin Avenue, but it's picking up even as I type. I had a great time last night with my first ever poker night, but really missed the sleep.

As is generally the case during quiet moments when most everyone I know is either asleep or away, my mind scans the horizon for what I must do for the next few days. But this is a different scan. My radar is haunted. I can only think of one thing. It's the thing that has been at least a tangental subject of probably a half/dozen blogs I read. For the most part, it is the thing that seems to bring us all together.

It is Grey's Anatomy.

If you aren't watching this show, start watching. Don't be turned off by how popular it is, because people who are turned off of something because of its popularity are generally the people I secretly make fun of behind their backs. There you go. The cat's out of the bag.

I'm not exactly sure why I like this show so much, but I think it has something to do with this: We all want our profession, the thing we spend our lives doing in order to survive, to be something that is consequential. This sounds corny, but we want our jobs to matter. We want to feel that between the time we punch in and punch out that someone's life was affected. This is probably why the most popular non-reality shows on television are crime and medical dramas.

Those young people at Seattle Grace are melodramatic. They obsess over stupid stuff. Two of them love people they can't have-- one because of marriage and the other because of fear of doing anything about it. They have families that don't understand and they have, in effect, become a family for each other. They are all extremely horny. They obsess about their intellect-- One at how much she has and the other at how little it appears he has. They work too much and play too little. They think their thoughts are the center of importance. They are us.

But they are different in that their drama is played out in a hospital. Stagnance doesn't occur in a hospital. Hospitals are the places where people go to get better, or to get worse. And these interns play a part in which will happen.

I've got to go to work now. Perhaps tonight I'll share my thoughts on a few of the story lines.

New Kid on the Blog...

Just wanted to share the rejoicing-inducing news that Harris Bechtol has given in to popular demands and has started a blog. This guy is extremely cool, intelligent, has long hair, and from the one thing I've heard of his writing, a VERY good writer.

As he put it, he has lost his blog virginity. Well, welcome to the land of the blog whores, Mr. Bechtol!!

Pass the cigarettes.

Kyle and I...

(Corey prompted this post in an email a couple of weeks back. Sorry it's taken me so long to get around to it.)

________________________________________

I moved to Waco in July of 2000 to work at Baylor and be closer to friends who were also leaving ETBU to attend Truett. It was kind of an impulsive move, but one that would end up being possibly the most transformative decision of my life.

By the first of August I had visited three churches. As I'm sitting here thinking about each one I find it kind of funny that each of the three was a kind of mirror image of each of the churches I had been a member of as an adult. Antioch was Prairie Creek, the pseudo-charismatic church I joined as a reaction to being an 18 year old kid in, what I called at the time, a "dead" church. (The word "dead" indicating that hands were not raised and drums were not present. I was such an idiot.) Brazos Meadows was Port Caddo, the small and charming country church I used as a refuge of healing after experiencing the alienation that comes from being in a church (like Antioch) where the goal is to become the spiritual elite. Columbus Avenue was Central in Marshall, the more mainstream Baptist church that has been a presence in the downtown community for years and has people who dress nice and have a little more money than the rest of us.

I honestly enjoyed visiting each one, but I never gave much thought to joining either. They were all good places, but not for me.

By this point Jason was working in the University Ministries offices at Baylor and attending meetings with church leaders who worked with college students in the community. After one such meeting he came over to my apartment with a sheet of paper that explained the philosophy of ministry and core values of a church, UBC, where the meeting was held.

(At this point I'm going to have to paraphrase a conversation I had with The Stumbling Runner, who described a meeting that helped him make the decision about which seminary to attend.)

As I read the words on that sheet of paper I felt that for the previous few years I was making my way through a thick forest and there were people off in the distance singing a song, my song. The song was calling me, and I followed.

So I visited UBC and, to tell you the truth, I remember very little, really nothing, about my first visit. I can't remember David Crowder and can't remember Kyle Lake. I remember the music being loud and the preacher sitting on a stool, but the details have escaped. I think I was probably a little shell-shocked with the whole experience.

I do, however, remember the bulletin. Most evangelical churches worth their salt have handouts that say how you can get involved and ask for your personal information. In UBC's bulletin there is a box where you can check "I would like to meet with the pastor."

Isn't it amazing how our lives can turn on really small moments and decisions that seem insignificant at the time?

My small moment and decision was looking around the pew (we had pews back then-- I miss those ugly orange things,) for a pen to fill out the form. I checked I'd like to meet the pastor.

I'll be honest, I was expecting a phone call, maybe even a letter in the mail. Instead I got to work on Monday morning with an email that said "Hey Craig, it's Kyle Lake. Would you like to meet me for lunch sometime this week over at La Pettite France, this little deli downtown?"

I was extremely surprised. Actually, I was a little baffled because I forgot the name of the pastor at UBC. Who in the world is this? Then I remembered and replied "Sure."

So we met. I remember the day being Wednesday. I also remember wearing a white long-sleeved Gap shirt. (Isn't it weird the things you remember?) He walked in looking around the way you do when you meet someone you've never met. I recognized him, introduced myself, and our friendship began almost immediately.

Here's the funny story from our first meeting: Anyone who has ever spent any amount of time in the Christian Subculture has experienced the dilemma of praying over meals in public. At ETBU it was just what you did, but growing up I never remember doing it. Being new to the Baylor-Waco stem of evangelicalism, I just didn't know. The food came, then the awkward pause. I wanted to grab my fork, he wanted to grab his fork, but neither of us knew the other's position on the great pray-over-meals-in-public debate. He relented and offered to pray for the meal, and we laughed about it every time we revisited the restaurant, (now The Olive Branch.)

The conversation immediately went to "Where are you from?", and stayed there for most of the meal once we realized that the house he grew up in was only 12 miles from the one I grew up in, which brought on a great wave of "Do you knows?" and "Did you ever go to this event?" We came to the conclusion that we knew a lot of the same people and went to the same things and marveled that we were only then meeting.

I now remember the date. It was August 17, 2000. The reason I remember is because I told him we'd have to do this again and suggested the next week. He said the next week wouldn't be good because his wife was almost due. Three days later on August 20 the beautiful Faith Avery Lake was born.

The next week Kyle emailed me and set up another lunch meeting. But in the meantime he had something he wanted me to look at. This pastor he was acquainted with sent him the manuscript of a book he had just finished. Kyle told him he wouldn't let it get out, and then once he finished reading it he wanted me to read it. The pastor's name was Brian McLaren and the book was A New Kind of Christian.

(Wow, that last sentence was dramatic, wasn't it? Like there should have been drums pounding in the background.)

Needless to say, I started gong to UBC. That first year we were good acquaintances. It sounds cliche', but we really became very close after September 11 and when the boys were born the next summer, me and the Lakes were inseparable.

And that's how we met. Corey, thanks for prompting that. Writing through it helped me remember stuff I don't want to forget.

I'm off of work tomorrow and it's about time.

Yesterday was a truly shitty day, except for the time I got to spend with the kids, but today was good. It was one of those days filled with laughter. I cried some too. I've got it all.

Tomorrow I'm going to devote at least a couple of hours to writing, so maybe you'll see something more than a daily update, although I've become fine just giving those.

So let me echo the sentiments of many of my fellow bloggers: Grey's Anatomy was the best ever this week. It was also the hardest episode for me to watch without breaking down. The writer's on that show are brilliant, and this coming from a guy who feels the word "brilliant" is the most overused word in the English language these days.

I'm off to bed. Later.

I dreamed we were in a different town. Much more rural than this. Kyle was back. It was all just a big misunderstanding. But he knew no one could know, it would cause too much shock. I on the side of the dirt road, he in the car with the windows rolled down, we just looked at each other. We both knew talking would be too much. I leaned in and embraced him. He smiled then slowly drove off.

I woke up. It was 1:30 a.m. I got out of bed to write about it so you'd know. I stopped at the door, returned to bed, in the hopes the car may make a U-Turn and come back.

It never did.

When I got to work I discovered another manager had rearranged his schedule and was working today. So I decided to work a half-day today and a half-day on Thursday, which was to be a full day off. I went and bought Earl Campbell Hot Links, grilled them, smothered them in BBQ sauce then took them to UBC Love Feast at the BSM.

The generosity of the Hippodrome and Truett and the BSM toward UBC has been wonderful, but I'm ready to be back in our building. Every week we are away from there takes a little bit out of me. Places matter and that place, perhaps more than any, matters a lot and I'm ready to walk back through those doors, regardless of what the interior looks like.

It's been a few days since I've been able to really write anything. I'm in the middle of a six day work stretch. My life isn't super hectic, but it's becoming harder and harder to find free moments.

I go to work at 2:00 and had planned on using the first part of the day to get some writing done and to rest. I got the rest part taken care of, but not the writing. Met Tracey for breakfast at Kim's then instictively went to the gym. Shot some hoops and sat in the hot tub for a bit to soothe my aching legs.

I woke up extremely tired and couldn't figure out why, until I remember the thing I left out of my bulleted blog yesterday: I donated blood after running 12 miles. Since I had the afternoon free I donated platelets, which takes longer and, I'm assuming, makes you more tired. I came home from the gym and slept on the couch for an hour and a half, waking up occasionally to catch VH1's Greatest Teen Stars of All Time show.

I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon washing clothes and finishing up my taxes and doing paperwork for a ticket I got a couple of weeks ago. And now I will go to work.

If you are in town tomorrow feel free to stop by my place around 7:00 for the Olympic Opening Ceremony.

Here's the question of the day for UBC'ers who read my blog: Write a 30 word essay on this topic-- Why Harris Bechtol should go to Truett and stay in Waco. Extra credit will be given for using the words "Kyle Lake," "Avery," and "God's Will."

(And be prepared for tomorrow's question of the day which will be the same as today's, just with the word "Harris Bechtol" replaced with "Meg Robinson.")

Trucking Along...

-- As for the last post, I guess we'll go with "extemely embarassing."

-- I've had the day off today. I woke up, poured cereal in a bowl, coffee in a pot, and watched an hour and a half of the Today show and one of last nights episodes of Scrubs that was being aired while I was at Adam's birthday party. (Happy Birthday Adam!)

--I then decided to go for a run and I just ran, without thinking about how far or fast I would go. It was very Forrest Gump. I ran until I didn't want to run anymore. Actually, I ran until I got to MCC and then decided to turn around.

-- The horrible (truly, truly tragic in light of the world's calamaties) situation in my life today is that the internet has been out at the house, bringing me down a few blocks to the public library to post this.

-- Here's something kind of funny: I cried watching Oprah today, and I don't even think it was an episode intended to make people cry. She had Matthew McConoghey (sp?) on and he was being his normal hippie-childlike self and for a second I was reminded at how carefree Kyle could be around people he was comfortable with. I was laughing and I was crying and I decided-- get yourself together man! You're crying watching Oprah! They'll take your man card away. So I then came here.

-- About to head to Fuddrucker's before church to hang out with the wonderful people of "The Other Side," this crazy group of UBC'ers that aren't college students. It'll be fun.

-- When the internet at home is fixed, I promise I'll post the thing about meeting Kyle I mentioned earlier in the week.

-- Friday the Olympics start and I'm excited.

-- Take Care.

Question of the Day...

A few months ago I asked for people to show their faces and tell me who is reading my blog. I received a few replies, mostly the usual suspects (Former and Present UBC'ers and ETBU'ers,) and a few surprises of people who don't even know me.

Yesterday as I was watching Jason and Blake's mom on the Ellen Degeneres Show for the Atlanta, TX 30 year reunion, I started to regret not keeping up with my friends from high school.

So here's my question... are any of you phantom clocktower74 readers people I went to high school with or from my hometown?

C'mon Brownsboro Bears, it's time to step up and make yourself known.

(This will be extremely cool or extremely embarrasing.)

I really want to post something substantial, possibly even consequential, but I'm just so tired right now.

My days are jam packed with stuff to do. The irony is that it's all stuff I've chosen. (Or perhaps it's not ironic at all and I'm just looking for a cool word to describe my dilemma.) When I'm running or writing or preparing to have people over to dinner I wonder sometimes if the things I'm doing to deliberately help me process Kyle's death may just be serving to fill up my hours so I can't sit down and actually work through it. It's weird, though, because I feel like I AM working through it.

I think we're all at a weird place in this process. For the first three months there seemed to be an endless supply of adrenaline that legitimized anything I was feeling. I could laugh as hard as I could cry and it was ok because this is what members of a grieving community are supposed to do. But now the pump has slowed to a trickle and I'm left sitting in silence, feeling the same feelings but also feeling that I shouldn't be feeling the same feelings.

In the midst of all my "healing" busy-ness, am I just becoming a zombie who has mastered the art of "how you are supposed to appear?"

Oh, well.

A Very Long Week...

Before tonight I thought I was heading into anotherleisurely week. Wake up, go to work, hang out with people, go to sleep and rest well.

Then Grey's Anatomy ups and enters the world of Cliffhanger Television and makes my week one of anxiety and worry for my friends at Seattle Grace.

Blake and Karla, don't go near Seattle Grace Hospital this week. There's a bomb and Meredith is the only one holding it together.

In other news, I ran 11 miles today, through the trails at Cameron Park. I felt like Rocky as I was doing it. I feel like Mickey tonight.

Look for a post this week (prompted by a question from Corey) about how I met Kyle.

I hope the week going on in your side of the screen is one filled with grace and peace. Pray, and take care of each other.

Telling me Something...

I was told today by an old friend on the other side of the world (not Jason or Christy or probably anyone else you would know,) that I should spend a day alone praying to God because he (my friend) thinks God wants to tell me something. I asked what he thinks it may be and he said he didn't know, it was just something that he felt in his spirit.

What should I make of this? Do I say "No, I'm not that into that stuff anymore," or do I heed his admonition? It's fun to make fun of super-spiritual charismatic. But when you care deeply for one, it puts you in an awkward position between trust and cynicism.

Maybe he's right. Maybe God does want to tell me something. Maybe he just suspects that I drink alcohol and believe women should be able to preach and he is worried about my salvation and wanting me to feel his God tell me how to live. Either way, a day alone praying never hurt anyone, did it?

Be Here...

So I just got back from seeing Keith Urban in concert and it kicked some serious ass. That dude sings jump-high-off-of-Oprah's-couch-to-celebrate-life-and-love type songs. Yet he does it with a sincerety and genuine charisma that puts his future's ex to shame.

To be melodramatic-- it was quite the spiritual experience.

Random...

-- It's been a blah type of day. The weather is perfect. The frustrating thing is that it shouldn't be. It's the 2nd of February. Even here in Texas it should be dreary on the 2nd of February. I got jack squat done at work today.

-- Speaking of work, I've been thinking. You know how some people have jobs that inspire others to say "I bet you have a wonderful job," and the possesor of the supposed wonderful job normally says "Oh, you have no idea. It's not near as good as it seems." I have people come up to me all the time and say how they bet I have a great job and honestly all I can say is "Yeah, it is pretty great." And I mean it.

-- Sutton said a funny thing yesterday when I picked him up. "Craig! I saw you yesterday at the really BIG church!" At which point I replied, "The really big church? What do you mean?" "You know, that really big church where you work that has all the books in it!" Sweet little boy thought that since his dad worked at a church, then everyone works at a church. How cute is that?

-- Have I mentioned yet that my friends Tracey and Wesley got me tickets to the Keith Urban concert here in Waco, and it's tomorrow night? Well they did and they are the coolest people in the world. (I thought that even before the tickets.) I'm excited.

-- So here's my political thought for the week. My biggest dissapointment over the past few days after the State of the Union is how utterly predictable everyone has become. President gives a speech-- Democrats say "It's nice talk, but we want to see some action."-- Progressive Christians use the words "justice" and "poverty" a lot, and offer a lot of preemptive disclaimers about how they have problems with the Democrats too, even though none of us is buying it. I'm with Shane on this, it's just plain disappointing. To be honest, the only two people who have done something unexpected is Alito, in siding with the non-conservatives on his first judgement, and Bush, in making his "addicted to foreign oil and need more alternative energy," statements. Of course he can't be sincere, since this is the first time he's used it in a speech.

-- I've been lucky for the past couple of Saturdays to be free at night and we've had people over just to hang out. Looks like that's going to happen again. So if you are reading this, and in the Waco vicinity, feel free to drop by Saturday night. We've been having a good time just hanging around the table and telling stories.

-- So talking through the fruit of the Spirit on Wednesday nights and last night we did an alternative service on "peace." All I can say, and I mean this seriously, is that the entire experience was very peaceful.

-- The thing I'm currently reading: "Joe Jones" by Anne Lamott.

-- My morning routine: 1.) Wake up. 2.) Urinate. 3.) Go make coffee and oatmeal. 4.) Watch the local news. 5.) If I don't have to be at work @ 7:00, watch the Today Show. 6.) Shower. 7.) Go to work.

-- What I had for dinner tonight: H-E-B Rotiesserie chicken I purchased tonight after I ran into Singleton and Anthony, chips and quacamole left over from Hickmans Birthday party, and Pecan Sandies with chocolate chips.

-- Television shows I've watched tonight: Will and Grace, My Name is Earl.

-- What I read during my breaks at work today: The Waco Tribune Herald and Christianity Today.

-- What I normally read during my breaks on Mondays: Newsweek.

-- Breaks on Fridays: People.

-- My favorite Magazine: Newsweek and Texas Monthly.

-- My favorite Television Magazine-type show: Texas Country Reporter.

-- Thing I'm wondering right now: Why I trailed off with the last few bullet points, and what it means to the possibility you will return to my blog.

-- Why I care: Because, like most of us, I'm a bit insecure.

-- That's all I've got for now. Catch you on the flip side.

It Just Doesn't Count, Ok?...

______________

3:21a.m.

After much harsh and grueling time spent searching my soul and contemplating the scientific truths of diet, nutrition, and exercise (five minutes,) I've come to this conclusion: When at 3:00 a.m. a bad dream visits you and wakes you up, it is within the realm of acceptability to put chocolate ice cream in a cup, fill it with milk, and enjoy. The calories don't count, I'm telling you, because 3:00a.m. is NoDay. It's not yesterday, it's not today, so my body is miraculously free from any effects.

Damn that extra mile I'll be running tomorrow. Or is it today?