Thursday, August 31, 2006

Psalm 13

For the director of music. A psalm of David.

1 How long, O LORD ? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? 2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? 3 Look on me and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; 4 my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall. 5 But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.

6 I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me.

Monday, August 28, 2006

My Bro.

He did it!! Again.

Qualified for the Remax World Long Drive Championship in Laughlin, NV. Heck yeah.
This year he said was a bit harder, considering the burden of having qualified relatively quickly last year and the larger number of competitors entering the sport. In any case, I'm uber proud of him. This time it was 343 into a headwind.

I'll, as always, keep you posted on my brothers studly progress.

Good job Schmusty.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Confessions of a crappy flosser.

Deep dark sadness. I think sometimes that Jesus is like getting a root canal.

I have to get a root canal. Ok. So I haven't been to the dentist in quite sometime. The last time I went the guy did such a bad job, it freaked me out and I haven't gone back. "Oh maybe you have a hypersensitive tooth or something.." maybe it feels like you are boring holes into my head and hot lighting flashes of pain shoot up into my brain.

Maybe I have a cavity underneath the filling you just put in, wacko.

I'm such an idiot. I've been in pain for so long and have just tried to ignore it and chewed on the other side. Whilst the tooth keeps rotting along. Just because I pretend it's not there, doesn't mean it's not there. Ugh.

So I finally get up the nerve to go to Dr. Pmurph, and he looks at me like I have three heads.

But. The good news is, I'll feel better when it's all said and done and I'll be able to eat chocolate again, be able to drink water again, drink hot tea, open my mouth again. Hooray.

I'm such a wuss. It's just a root canal.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Hey Boys and Girls!

Over the Rhine IN ST. LOUIS in the Duck Room at Blueberry Hill, Friday, September 8. You all need to come to this. If you like MUSIC at ALL.

It's only my favorite band of all time.

Come one, come all.

Come from everywhere.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Frying pan... to the side of my head.

Ruthless Trust, Brennan Manning

When the brilliant ehticist John Kavanaugh went to work for three months at "the house of the dying" in Calcutta, he was seeking a clear answer as to how best to spend the rest of his life. On the first morning there he met Mother Teresa. She asked, "And what can I do for you?" Kavanaugh asked her to pray for him. "What do you want me to pray for?" she asked. He voiced the request that he had borne thousands of miles from the United States: "Pray that I have clarity." She said firmly, "No, I will not do that." When he asked her why, she said, "Clarity is the last thing you are clinging to and must let go of." When Kavanaugh commented that she always seemed to have the clarity he longed for, she laughed and said, "I have never had clarity; what I have always had is trust. So I will pray that you trust God." "We ourselves have known and put our trust in God's love toward ourselves" (1 John 4:16). Craving clarity we attempt to eliminate the risk of trusting God. Fear of the unknown path stretching ahead of us destroys childlike trust in the Father's active goodness and unrestricted love. We often presume that trust will despel the confusion and illuminate the darkness, vanquish the uncertainty, and redeem the times. But the crowd of witnesses in Hebrews 11 testifies that this is not the case. Our trust does not bring final clarity on this earth. It does not silence the chaos or dull the pain or provide a crutch. When all else is unclear, the heart of trust says, as Jesus did on the cross, "Into your hands I commit my spirit" (Luke 23: 46). If we could free ourselves from the temptation to make faith a mindless assent to a dusty pawnshop of doctrinal beliefs, we would discover with alarm that th essence of biblical faith lies in trusting God. And, as Marcus Borg has noted, "The first is a matter of the head, the second a matter of the heart. The first can leave us unchanged, the second intrinsically brings change." The faith that animates the Christian community is less a matter of believing in the existence of God than practical trust in his loving care under whatever pressure. The stakes here are enormous, for I have not said in my heart, "God exists," until I have said, "I trust you." The first assertion is rational, abstract, a matter perhaps of natural theology, the mind laboring at its logic. The second is "communion,
bread on the tongue from an unseen hand." Against insurmontable obstacles and without a clue as to the outcome, the trusting heart says, "Abba, I surrender my will and my life to you without any reservation and with boundless confidence, for you are my loving Father."

Wednesday, August 09, 2006


I hit a bird with my car the other day. Mid-flight. (the bird was in flight, not my car... damn dangling participles...) It was rare. What is wrong with birds lately? I heard that someone else did this recently too. All the birds in Missouri are juiced.

I don't even think it died, just a weird pathetic thump.

I love where I work. I love the people I work with. Today I was talking to perhaps the guy I admire most in our company and our mentor, and he was telling me that he A. Likes to wear womens pajamas as opposed to mens because they make just nightshirts, as opposed to two piece pajamas for men. B. That he doesn't go to wal mart, except for the one time he had to buy worms for his sons science project, and a second time for when he needed emergency shaving cream, and found a substance for women that was not in a can, but just poured out of the container, whatever it was... and C. That he started purchasing the product, by the case, directly from the manufacturer to avoid wal-mart.

There is one man, secure in his manhood and not afraid to walk his talk. He also is an avid creme brulee fan, and wears pink. A hero to us all.

This weekend I'm driving to Denver with my bro, we are crashing on Poshak's floor, if anyone has any messages/parcels to send him. I leave early early Friday morning. Jim, i'll tell him to ice his... nevermind.

My roomate is getting married, and leaving us, in pink tennis shoes.
My other roomate may as well be getting e-mails from God about her direction.
Beth Moore is over. Very sad. I, however, still have about 4 weeks to complete. (yay for me).

My ipod is broken again. Any five of you want to help me out with this?

There is this crazy guy on cable TV that is called the Dog Whisperer. He is like this crazy dog psychologist and it sounds completely cheese whiz, but this guy is amazing. I've seen him put a spell on Sandy and it's nuts. (1000pts if you can name that movie).

My sewer line has backed up, hopefully for the last time. Mu ah ah. The city of Webster Groves and I are going to k it's a. And it's going to be great.

Uhm go see Talladega Nights. Fun-ny.

I dropped off some of the last 8 years of bad fashion choices yesterday at goodwill. If I knew how easy it was I would have done it ages ago. I am the antithesis of trendy. I blame the frame. It's hard to find curtains for this window, especially trendy ones.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

My Gorgeous Crooked Family Tree

Like her, I am angry. I feel cheated and sad. Like her, I think he's a jerk. Like her, the hippie life has a draw to me that I cannot deny. Unlike her, I do not like soy latte's with double shot espresso. And unlike her, I like sausage, and bacon.. but I do understand that beans doused in bacon bits are not a good compromise. Like her I laugh often and am happy with simple things. And yes, that girl was snarky, I agree with that.

Like her, I am judgemental. I am afraid of the things that I do not understand. Like her, I love to dance. Like her, I say things that I don't realize hurt people the way they do. Like her, I want to take care and control of people.

Like him, I do not understand the pure type B. I do not get messy hair, and I like tasks. I like getting things done, and I like a game of golf. I like to help people. I like to be a hero. I understand responsibilities and sacrifice. When poked at, I lash back harshly, hoping to wound as I have been wounded. Like him I like to entertain.

Like her, I care about how I look. My own flaws bother me. Like her, I laugh and move and speak, like her I talk schmoopy to babies and puppies. But the dog whisperer hopes to break me of this. Unlike her, I say what I feel and wish more people did. Like her I fear conflict and laugh to lighten up rooms.

Like her, I do not put stock in ceremony, per se. Unlike her I believe in God and everything he stands for. Like her, I cry. I weep when I see my grandmother hug her in her wedding dress. I weep when I see the necklace that all three of my aunts and my two cousins have worn in their weddings. I weep when he said his vows and showed his heart. I laugh when my dad felt him up.

Like him I dance for joy. Pure unadulterated joy that makes people wonder for just a second "Is he ok? What the heck is unadulterated joy? It's been a long time since I danced like that.. I wonder if he's ok?" Johnny B Good. I love her as he does. As the little girl who was his little boy too, she was my idol in many ways and I took her lead in many ways.

Like him I am awkward and insecure, but people think I have this confidence and comfort in my own skin. Like him... I'm so like him.

Like him I wonder if people see me. I am crippled and wonder if people see me. Like him, I also wonder if I will get married before I die, and I wonder if there is cake. Where the hell is the cake?

Unlike them, I have not held grudges. I have let myself out of prison. For I can hold no other in a prison but myself. So I am unlike them.

Like her I wish for the fairy tale. I wish for the perfect fantasy with whispy white lanterns and light streaming in through the gauzy curtains. I wish for perfect place settings and gorgeous flowers. I don't care how much it cost, for a night, it's perfect and I could die happy. I don't care if it puts me in debt, it's a memory and it's worth it. Like her, I schmooze and smile for the camera, and I entertain the crowd and long to be someone. Unlike her, I want the fairy tale to run deeper than the surface. It matters more to me that the icing is on some cake instead of a house of cards.

Like her I'm freer than I was. Like her, I find adoption a special, a precious gift of God's perfection right her on crappy sad earth. I like spirituals sung a capella near a creek and I like chocolate chip cookies and elmo's dressed like birds. Like her I like the spiritual and the sappy and make no apology for it. Dolls and china, jury's still out. I hate him. But more than that, I feel sorry for him.

Like her I'm young and innocent, so impatient, so tired, so very very very loved just because I exist, and so very very lucky. I like giving hugs and kisses and I like ketchup too.