What better to do with ten miscellaneous minutes than post to my blog? I had a lovely Thanksgiving vacation at the house of one of my friends, and I managed not to think about PHC much at all. I slept tremendous amounts, read a few short stories by Edgar Allen Poe (he pioneered the short-story genre, dontcha know?), wrote a nine-page story of my own, read 50 pp of Aquinas for school, and wrote half of one paper. I also read all of the Bible book of Ezekiel and watched four movies (one in the theatre). Last but not least, I spent some quality time by the James River, which was only a ten-minute walk from my friend's house. I wrote the following about the James River in my hard-copy journal. It won't make much sense unless you have read Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse:

"I sat and looked at the river. I closed my eyes and listened. I tried to hear what Siddhartha heard, the voices of everything. Rivers really do have the most indescribable sound that can only be defined by itself. Them, and wind in treetops. If everything, all the world's happenings, rushed by at once, they might just sound like that eternal white noise. Reminds me of Niagara Falls."

And then, on our last trip to the river:

"This is our last hour in Richmond. Deborah and I have packed and loaded the car, and I drove us down to the James River one last time. People who live near rivers or mountains are incredibly blessed. Such peace that comes from admiring God's immense power. I wonder if it frightens atheists, like it does Svidrigailov in Crime and Punishment. Can naturalists gather any of the wonder at all? What sadness that would be!"

What a wonderful break it was! Of course, I came back kicking myself for not having finished more schoolwork, but it wasn't going to happen. I had to sleep. My body periodically declared its inability to remain awake and just keeled over on whatever comfortable surface was nearest. I'm still pretty darn exhausted. At least we only have three weeks more of school. We can last three weeks, God willing.  ¶ 2:46 PM (4) comments

  "Here we are, just us, on the raggedy edge." This quote, or something like it, comes from a movie called Serenity. The crew of a decrepit spaceship holds on by its fingernails, skirting the edges of a universe ruled by law that is cold, hard, and unjust. This is how I feel today. The weather's icy wind has blown in trouble for PHC. Some students have broken the rule against alcohol drinking. Not many people are talking about it, except to pass over it with a hurried indirect reference. The campus as a collective is stewing the matter over in its mind. Something is brewing. Those who have broken this rule or similar ones - or think they may be under suspect, whether they have done anything wrong or not - are feeling defensive. On the opposite end of the spectrum, some of us are self-righteous. Myself, I'm just sad. Things could be so clean, so beautiful, so perfect - if people didn't mess them up. We all mess up, all the time, and there's no escaping it altogether. Yet the perfection calls us, and we see it's there somewhere. Somewhere out of reach.

I want perfection so much that I am scared to make mistakes. We Christians are really in a desperate situation most of the time. I've been reading through Isaiah and Jeremiah in huge doses for the last few weeks, for at least an hour a day. Over and over again, those prophets warned their people to repent, or God would cause them to be taken away into captivity. Israel and Judah never repented, and so they were indeed taken away. And it all began with Solomon, when Israel was at its very height. He and his foreign wives brought in worship of false gods, carrying their nation with them. It is true; any high point of a people is really the start of their downhill slide. The more I learn, the more it seems the United States has begun its slide. Our country is becoming more and more decadent. The only thing that's saving us is that we're still the best out there. We had better watch out, though, because the Babylonians were much worse than the Israelites, and yet God used them to carry the Israelites away.

My college wants to lead the nation and shape the culture. And yet we are children who pit ourselves against the leaders who began this dream. We are just foolish, all of us, in one way or another. Can we stop being foolish? It is doubtful, because we are fallen human beings. God can do anything, but He does not have to.

So you could say I am both optimistic and pessimistic. I am optimistic that God can use anyone at their highest potential if they want to be used. I am pessimistic that people will let themselves be used that way. I hope that God will turn my country around. I fear that He will let it fall for the sake of His overall plan.

These are my troubled, disjointed thoughts for the day. Chances are they are fueled by tiredness and general emotional turmoil, not only by current events. But I feel an essay birthing in my mind.  ¶ 11:07 AM (1) comments

  Sometimes I feel the limitations of a public journal. It is impossible and undesirable to explain what is really going on inside oneself on a blog. Besides the embarrassment factor, it would be boring, which is the worst sin of all in public writing.

So today and always my innermost thoughts are off-limits. There're still plenty left. I am sitting in Market Street Coffee, and people bustling in and out give me plenty of subject matter. One lady with a lined, kind face, a lime green polyster shirt and pink pants holds the door for her offspring. As they meander slowly out the door and she stands patiently waiting, I wonder what it will be like some day to care much more for my children's lives than for my own? To plan their futures, not mine? Most of life still remains for me to find.

A sandy-haired man wearing a Vocelli Pizza jacket and baseball cap enters the coffee shop at the same time as an attractive young woman leaves. He hastens to step out of the way and hold the door for her, and I gain an impression of a good heart that wants to impress. Then he holds the door for another five seconds before he notices she has already passed through and walked away. When he moves to the counter, he lurches a little bit. He takes a newspaper from the table in front of me on the way out, and I look up. He sees me looking, and struggles internally for a second, then enunciates, "Excuse me," very slowly and carefully over his shoulder as he walks away. He sits at a table outside, and I glance at him covertly every now and then. I wonder what it is like inside his head.

People fascinate me. They are the players in the neverending movie that flickers past my eyes.  ¶ 12:04 PM (1) comments