Wednesday, September 7, 2011

The Ideal Place.

This is really the ideal place to keep up with what I am up to, thinking, doing, seeing, processing, et al.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


I was in Nashville the weekend before I left the East Coast. A burling looking, tattooed, and bearded fellow approached me during the closing worship songs of a church service I had joined my friend in attending. This fellow was Irish; his hair, skin, and freckles betrayed him and his eyes twinkles merrily above his cracked, toothy smile. “You have something big coming up don’t you? What is it, I am supposed to listen to you and pray for you as you head into this thing,” he explained. I was quite taken aback at this verbiage, naturally. How could he have such boldness in approaching a perfect stranger? What compelled him to climb over chairs and rustle through a crowd to find me, only to put such a strange set of words before me? What if I had responded, “Get away from me, you lunatic!”? This fellow had noticed me enter the building, and from that point had determined that I required a hearing and prayer. Nothing would frustrate his plans to reach me. Nothing would deter him from obedience.

Retroactive post.


I’ve come back to the word over and over these past few weeks. Perhaps it is simply a nice word choice for “anxious”; I hope not. There is no concern regarding the choice, or the decision to go. It is the unknown, the fear of failure, the desire to be genuine in the face of hypocrisy that causes said apprehension.



Thursday, May 19, 2011


“The mind of man plans his way…”
Robert Burn’s 1786 poem, To a Mouse, only handled half of the thought correctly, and in that half it is arguable if “correctly” is even the proper word. His “…best laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley, [often go awry]” sentiment, while true, is not fully true. The issue is within “awry”, and who is the determinant of its proper qualitative position. If Robert deems himself the authority on what is “awry” and what is the actualization of “best laid” then truth is no larger than a dead mean.
Yet, another option is available. Perhaps the best laid plans of men are merely that; the plans of men. These same men live seventy years, die, and then rot into dust. Yet, in my estimation, not all of them dies; for they are not dead, dead…but this thought is moving off topic.
The point is this, the plans of men are continually frustrated, and “… lea'e us nought but grief an' pain.” Yet, such a pessimistic view leaves one longing for a gun and but one bullet, thus in finishing the above started Proverb is a welcome predicate.
“…but the LORD directs his steps.”

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

The Alleged Literalist.

It’s a very nebulous word; transition.
It’s much like when one explains a date as being, “interesting…”.

Now, that is not to say that every “interesting” is a horrifically egregious experience, yet one would not be remiss in the generalization that “interesting” is a benevolent surrogate for words of a less than delightful nature, which have yet to be formulated.
On the other hand, there are those who are generally at a loss for words who use “interesting” to mean something akin to, “I’d like to see him again, perhaps…”. [As an aside everyone one would benefit from stating said sentiment, plainly.]

“Transition”, is a similar such word, one that receives substantially more mental mileage than the ten keystrokes it affords. For example, were one to note, “We are in, sort of…a…“transition” right now…” the comment could be interpreted about thirteen different ways depending upon, but not limited to, body language, facial expression, tone, former sentiment, latter sentiment, et al. The word, and its variants, is simply too broad a noun, verb, and participle; used in a way that is often overly abusive of the finite definition.

Granted, I am loquacious by nature and often accused of being far too much of a literalist, but come now, if the race is ever to approach commonality in communication, this ever-growing exhibition of postmodernity within linguistics must be curbed. How is one to communicate effectively within a society that so liberally reinvents the usage of words on a whim? This orthopraxy is a direct function of and is in turn revelatory of the standard operating procedure of postmodernism, as well as its error.

All of that being said, this author finds himself in something of an interesting transition.

Friday, May 13, 2011


A good friend of mine and I continually return to one simple sentiment, “We need more lives….”

We dream and consider the future, we understand that life is before us, and is open and ready for cultivating, yet the simple multitude of options presented us is so daunting that we become paralyzed. Literally, we could become doctors, we could be come lawyers, we could become carpenters, painters, or yoga instructors…there is no end.
Yet, there is an end. Every heart does stop beating, every lung does stop breathing, and the end will have come; generally before it is invited.

In our paralysis we slowly grind forward --- for there is little else to do --- looking toward that next carrot dangled before us: a job, a raise, two weeks in Cabo, an Aston Martin, a spouse, Junior, retirement, et al. But, as Solomon mutter time and again, “It is all Vanity and chasing after wind.”