A Jabberwock? Really?

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!"
- or something to that effect.
I half-listened to the cautions
he would always interject.


The old man, I'm sure, is senile -
a bit paranoid, you see.
Always shouting of the horrors
that would somehow befall me.


Today, it's the Jabberwock that has
some evil plan to hatch.
Last week it was a JooJoo bird,
or some frumious Sanderbatch.


The old man's claims didn't scare me;
a man in the prime of my youth.
That these creatures even existed
there wasn't a shred of proof.


Besides, he didn't understand
the power of the vorpal sword -
with the hilt of it in my hand,
foes were nothing but a bore.


So off I went in search of food,
walking easily as could be.
I set the snares then sat to think
beneath the Tumtum tree.


Suddenly a horrendous burbling
came crashing through the woods.
I'd never heard anything like it,
but I knew it couldn't be good.


Eyes of fire! Claws of steel!
House-sized leather wings!
My heart pounded as I pondered
the challenge he would bring.


I feinted right, he called my bluff
and caught me on the shoulder.
The pain, far from holding me back,
served only to make me bolder.


No greater foe have I ever fought,
each time I slashed he came right back -
until, with a final effort,
my blade went snicker-snack!


The beast was dead, I had his head
held proudly in my hand - 
never again will I fail to heed
the warnings of that wise old man.

Back from my sabbatical

I've had way too much free time to write the past 8 months or so. I'm not sure why it works like that. I suppose it's because when I'm really busy I usually have a lot on my mind, and writing (typing) gets some of it out. When I have this much free time, I generally have nothing on my mind except food, and when I do have something on my mind, I go into the "I'll write about it after this Walker, Texas Ranger marathon is over" zone. Needless to say,... well, I'm not gonna say it. It was needless. You know. I really have nothing of substance to go into this post, except expect (say that five times fast) more posts, as I will soon have much less free time. Very soon I will be going back to class (apparently it wasn't done with me), working (hopefully - applications have been sent out), finding a home church (an exciting and overwhelming proposition), and many other currently unknown things (if those applications pay off, I'll probably be sailing on my yacht bought with part-time, minimum wage pay). The only thing you really need to know right now is I'm pretty amped. I really am. For the first time ever, I have a clear and definite direction in life, even if it does involve, you know, 37 more years of school. Also, I just sort of realized I've lived at home for what appears to be the last time ever. Sure, I'll be close, and chances are good that I'll spend some nights there, but 6000 Shelley Drive can no longer be listed as my permanent home address. It's sad, and it's happy, and it's encouraging, and it's terrifying, and it's surreal, and it's been a long time coming, and it's come way too fast, but above all, it's peace-bringing. And it's time. This is my next step. My whole life, I've been walking down (or up, don't look too much into the direction) a dark staircase, with no clue where the next step is, or if there's even one there. I've just been stepping and praying that my foot will land on something solid, and it always has. But now, I know where the next step is. True, I can only see one step, but one step is one more than I usually see. Anyways, enough with the metaphor. I'm gonna go have some coffee.

Tiny Tim Turner

Tiny Tim Turner was quite a quick learner,

he learned many things with great ease.

He learned how to count, how to spell, how to read,

he learned to say "thank you" and "please."

With all the many things that tiny Tim knew,

he always got straight A's in school;

But now Tim was sad, for the other kids said

that getting straight A's wasn't cool.

English and history, science and math -

those questions, he answered them all.

The only thing in school he didn't do well

was the dreaded game of Dodgeball.

It was quite plain to see, when they went to P.E.

Tim wasn't the head of the class.

Nobody wanted him on their team,

and so he was always picked last.

Tim wished he were good at games such as these,

but clearly that wasn't the case.

Every day in the gym, they threw the ball at him,

and laughed when it bounced off his face.

So it came to pass that one day in class,

there rang that unwelcome bell.

Tim gathered his things and went to the nurse,

to say he didn't feel well.

The nurse said to Tim, "Oh, not you again!

You're not sick, get out of my room."

Tim gave a great sigh, and to himself cried,

"She's sending me back to my doom."

When Tim got back, the teams had been picked

and the game already begun.

Tim picked a side, and stood back to hide,

and just knew this wouldn't be fun.

Left! and Right! and Up! and Down!

Back and forth he fled.

Dipping and diving and ducking and dodging,

avoiding the blurs of red.

After a while Tim looked up,

and suddenly came to see

that three were left on the other team

and on his team, was only he.

Tim couldn't believe what had happened,

he finally got his big chance.

Then three dodgeballs came flying at him,

and awoke him out of his trance.

What happened next was incredible;

they had said it couldn't be done.

One ball in each arm, and one in between -

all caught, and Tim had won!

The yells rang out throughout the whole school,

Tim's moment had finally come.

His teammates cheered and high-fived him

until his whole hand was numb.

They still tell the tale of Tim's victory

to this very day at that school.

They tell all the kids of what tiny Tim did,

and how being smart can be cool.

Southern Weather

I love the weather like this. It's a bit drizzly, but it's been pouring for a couple days. So, it's post-torrent, but not sunny yet. I love it. It always reminds me of something. I'm not sure what it reminds me of. But it reminds me of something. To be quite honest with you, I'm not even sure it reminds me of a real thing. I could make something up, maybe. Say it reminds me of sometime in my childhood. As a kid, I would love days like this because the creek near my house would flood and my friend and I would float all the way through the woods in the flooded stream. Every time it would start raining I would sit and hope for enough rain to flood the creek. But that's not what these days remind me of. I mean, they do, in the sense that I can think back and remember floating down the creek. But not in the way that I am reminded of something else. It's like on days like this, I can just look up at the sky and think to myself, "I've been here before." Not here, as in whatever physical location I happen to be at that moment. Just - here. I can look up into the gray mist, and the mist in the air clears the mist in my head. What sunshine does for some people, cool and overcast days do for me. Suddenly, I realize I've been here before. I don't really know what that means. But I mean it. You can take that pretty much however you want. I'm not gonna look too far into it. I'm just going to enjoy it while I can. You know what they say..... the sun'll come out, tomorrow.

Th-th-that's all, folks! (maybe)

So, guess who has his last day of undergrad class ever today??? I'll give you 3 guesses. What? No, it's not Corey Hart. Why would you guess Corey Hart? You are the worst guesser ever. You know what, I revoke your other 2 guesses. It's me! My last day of class (maybe) ever is today! I mean, I have 6 credit hours left before I graduate, but I'm getting those with a trip to Costa Rica, so they don't count. As I look back over these past 4 years, I remember...not much, actually. My memory's not the best sometimes. So now, we move on. To where, you ask? Well, you see, that's a very good question. I sort of wish I knew the answer. But I'm also sort of glad I don't (though I have a few family members who are much more exasperated over it than I am). We always hear about living in faith, and my complete lack of planning and/or, well, planning, I suppose, either shows that I am starting to live in faith, or it may show that I am a terrible planner with no regard for my future. Either way, I'm excited. Really, I do believe that God has some sort of plan for me, and I'm excited to find out what it is. Knowing me, I probably won't find out until I'm already there, but whatever. For now, here we are. My last day of undergraduate class ever, and depending on future decisions (blah,blah,blah), maybe my last day of school EVER! I really do hate school. Growing up, nobody seemed to realize this fact. It was always like, "Yeah, you hate school, whatever." I know kids are supposed to say they hate school, but I truly always felt my hatred was truer and deeper than most. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. I still believe it was. I think people never believed me because I made good grades or something. Like hating school is contingent upon being bad at it. This is not the case. School and I have never had a very good relationship. And now it is (maybe) over forever. Am I nostalgic, looking back and seeing all the good in school? Not at all. Maybe years down the road it will be different. For now though, all I have to say to school is this - I hate you. So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Aaaaand boom goes the dynamite

They've always said, "You'll do quite well,
I really now must say-"
If only I could write a villanelle.

The big word seemed to ring a bell,
And I acquiesce, for they -
They've always said, "You'll do quite well."

But suddenly my spirits fell,
For I couldn't, try though I may.
If only I could write a villanelle.

This anxiety I must quell,
I hate to disappoint this way...
They always said, "You'll do quite well."

My back is forced against the rail,
I must find something to say...
If only I could write a villanelle.

Suddenly the words came in a hail,
The outline clear as day-
They've always said, "You'll do quite well,"
And i wrote a freakin' villanelle! (sort of)

the question to the answer is 42

Ok, so we've already determined that when people think about Christianity, Jesus somehow gets lost in the equation, right? The question is, why? I mean, christians and non-christians alike somehow ignore him, but what's the reasoning? I think the reason is fairly simple - it's a whole lot easier to ignore Jesus. Wait, what? No deep theological explanation? Nope. It's just easy to ignore Jesus. And people love to do things that are easy. The reasons are different for christians and non-christians, but the root cause is there. For Christians, it's easy to ignore Jesus because we can never follow all the rules. Ignoring Jesus means that when we screw up (daily), we don't have to realize that we are the bride cheating on the only one who will ever truly love us. We don't have to realize that we are the son rebelling against his father time and again. Without Jesus in the picture, all we have to think about is how many people do worse things. Sure, I may have strayed a bit, but did you hear what that guy did this weekend? Man, I would hate to be him on judgement day. And on the rare occasion we do happen to follow God's direction, man oh man, are we special. We don't have to realize that Christ expects and deserves more of us than controlling a few wild urges. We don't have to consider that all our "righteous acts" are like filthy rags before God. All we need to know is how great our self-control is and how much better the world could be if there were more people like us. I mean, that stuff I did was in the past, right? Today I conquered immorality once and for all. Did it single-handedly, too. Without Jesus, our faith becomes nothing more than a list of rules that, for all we know, could help us reach nirvana. Or at least make a lot of people pat us on the back. I mean, who needs a relationship with the creator of the universe, the only perfect being, the one who died just so we could have a relationship with him, when you could get a pat on the back instead? A pat on the back is so much more physically reassuring.