Why can't I write an entire idea all at once? Why must I narrow, narrow, narrow everything? The written language condenses everything down into tiny bites. The bites themselves don't make a meal, especially if you wander around sneaking them from different people's plates.

There's never time to write. I make it where I can, by molding school assignments as closely as I can to what I want to be doing. Nothing is _just_ an assignment. Everything has a purpose for me, either to increase my knowledge in an area that fascinates me or to describe a thought I may use some day on a larger scale. But still, it's all piecemeal. I have to sacrifice parts of everything for the sake of time.

I can never do anything that's perfect. Ever. This is a fact of my fallen nature as a human being. I can't accept this entirely, however. I have to keep striving, running faster and pushing harder. This is not so that I in myself might be perfect, but so that I might be more useful to God. He made me very capable, more so than many people. There must be a reason for that.

I thank God for friends, and that I am not alone. My friends have taught me so much. Probably my longest friend, a guy who goes to another college, reassures me frequently that God doesn't wait to use people. God is using me right now, in the little, imperfect, piecemeal bits of everything I'm creating with time and effort. He's using me as I write this blog post. I don't know how, but that doesn't affect the basic fact that He is. I thank Him for that.
  ¶ 1:09 PM