I have no plans for this post. My hands were itching to write, so I thought I'd start and see what happens. That might dangerous, but I've been in mundane life long enough that I'm willing to risk a little bit of danger for the adrenaline rush. So, enjoy the buffet. I'm not sure what it will do for you...I just hope you don't walk away with a stomachache.
Item 1: The frustration of having lost every single Scrabble game I have ever played with my brother, Aaron. Is it because he is more intelligent? No, we're about even on that score (though if I'm to be honest, he probably far surpasses me in logic.) He wins because he plays with cheap words! By the time I will have spent 20 minutes trying to find a place to put "docetic" on the board, Aaron will have placed "cat," "up," "sing," and "long." Of course the result is his gaining upwards of 50 points while I have passed my last four turns in stubborn devotion to the dignity of language. When my word finally achieves a spot on the board, it ends up in the corner with no triple letter scores. And for all my loyalty, I receive 12 points. I always charge him with cheating, but to no avail. He doesn't even care that he won the game on inferior word quality!
Item 2: I've done some reading lately. One interesting post entitled "The Lighted Carriage and the Starlit Night" was on Adam Young's fascinating blog. (I'm not a dedicated fan of Owl City, but I find the abstract poetry and the maverick style intriguing. The more I read, the more I realize that he is more than a nominal Christian. Just an interesting side note.) I've been pondering the thoughts of that post with one by Andrew Peterson. (Another side note: I'm also not a dedicated fan of Peterson, but I'm completely sold on his poetry. This guy is brilliant! He can take the Truth and reveal its stunning beauty. His perspective is greatly appreciated.) Anyway, the post is called Distillation: A Poem. And the poem here is the worded fruition of what I have tried to word myself for at least a year now. (He beat me to it! Maybe I'll still make an effort.) My point in bringing up these posts is to say that when you braid the two posts, you get the neat idea that God likes it when we write poetry. I think that's awesome! (In the weightiest sense of the word.) And I'll probably write more on that later
Item 3: Dreams are weird things. Last night my dream included the best man at a friend's wedding. This best man was not engaging in appropriate wedding behavior. His antics included walloping the pianist with long stem roses before replacing his toast speech with an animated video about nascar racing. Go figure. Some things are random.
Item 1: The frustration of having lost every single Scrabble game I have ever played with my brother, Aaron. Is it because he is more intelligent? No, we're about even on that score (though if I'm to be honest, he probably far surpasses me in logic.) He wins because he plays with cheap words! By the time I will have spent 20 minutes trying to find a place to put "docetic" on the board, Aaron will have placed "cat," "up," "sing," and "long." Of course the result is his gaining upwards of 50 points while I have passed my last four turns in stubborn devotion to the dignity of language. When my word finally achieves a spot on the board, it ends up in the corner with no triple letter scores. And for all my loyalty, I receive 12 points. I always charge him with cheating, but to no avail. He doesn't even care that he won the game on inferior word quality!
Item 2: I've done some reading lately. One interesting post entitled "The Lighted Carriage and the Starlit Night" was on Adam Young's fascinating blog. (I'm not a dedicated fan of Owl City, but I find the abstract poetry and the maverick style intriguing. The more I read, the more I realize that he is more than a nominal Christian. Just an interesting side note.) I've been pondering the thoughts of that post with one by Andrew Peterson. (Another side note: I'm also not a dedicated fan of Peterson, but I'm completely sold on his poetry. This guy is brilliant! He can take the Truth and reveal its stunning beauty. His perspective is greatly appreciated.) Anyway, the post is called Distillation: A Poem. And the poem here is the worded fruition of what I have tried to word myself for at least a year now. (He beat me to it! Maybe I'll still make an effort.) My point in bringing up these posts is to say that when you braid the two posts, you get the neat idea that God likes it when we write poetry. I think that's awesome! (In the weightiest sense of the word.) And I'll probably write more on that later
Item 3: Dreams are weird things. Last night my dream included the best man at a friend's wedding. This best man was not engaging in appropriate wedding behavior. His antics included walloping the pianist with long stem roses before replacing his toast speech with an animated video about nascar racing. Go figure. Some things are random.
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