tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30893572011-04-21T14:34:35.282-04:00Of mice and Chris"The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you're uncool."Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.comBlogger2881100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-1073164411180910672004-01-03T21:04:00.000-05:002004-01-04T21:05:25.780-05:00Goodbye and Good luck Jason.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-1071802743165232392003-12-18T21:57:00.000-05:002003-12-18T21:59:56.450-05:00I wrote this email to a good friend of mine tonight, and then thought that perhaps the two people who still read this site would like to read about the events of this last weekend.
As for me, yes I am engaged, and it has the story to go along with it, as only I could manange to pull off. So get cozy, and let me regail you.
When I first moved up here, Donnette and I broke up, thinking I was Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-1065732421211176662003-10-09T16:47:00.000-04:002003-10-09T16:47:00.720-04:00I knew a man Bojangles and he'd dance for you
In worn out shoes
With silver hair, a ragged shirt, and baggy pants
The old soft shoe
He jumped so high, jumped so high
Then he lightly touched down
I met him in a cell in New Orleans I was
down and out
He looked to me to be the eyes of age
as he spoke right out
He talked of life, talked of life, he laughed
clicked his heels and stepped
He said his Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-943154112003-05-14T03:21:00.000-04:002003-05-14T03:21:29.010-04:00It has been a long time since I've written anything substantial.
I don't know why that is, why every thought I've had over the past few months has been whisped away the moment I've logged onto CompuServe. A year ago, I loved coming here, late at night, contemplating, thinking, hoping, pondering, rejoicing, and finally writing.
Part of this, I believe, is because I used to sit for hours on end,Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-939366272003-05-07T12:59:00.000-04:002003-05-07T12:59:56.360-04:00A resounding thud.
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-915109202003-03-27T18:59:00.000-05:002003-03-27T18:59:04.903-05:00What does it take to forgive someone?
More than that, what does it take to forgive yourself? Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-889273402003-02-11T14:40:00.000-05:002003-02-11T14:42:02.000-05:00I sat next to two men on my break yesterday...
They obviously worked for the bank, well dressed, expensive haircuts, not much older than me but I'm sure I'm not in their tax-bracket.
I've never really envied people with more money than me before, guys my age who make five times as much as me. But sometimes, as I take mental inventory against the things I've done, the things I've had, and the Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-886606552003-02-06T13:51:00.000-05:002003-02-06T13:51:55.650-05:00If I disappear for awhile, maybe I don't want to be found...
Seminary starts in less than a week. I have my application here in front of me, still not filled out, still waiting to be turned in so I can begin classes. Procrastination, sure. But, I wonder, if maybe it's something more than that. I've had over two years to fill out this application. I just wonder if this is really what I want to doChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-865229402002-12-25T15:37:00.000-05:002002-12-25T15:37:57.983-05:00"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards man." Luke 2: 14
Donnette asked me the other day, if I could only have one wish what would I ask for, with the only stipulation being I couldn't ask for World Peace.
World Peace seems like too lofty a goal, but this Christmas, I would settle for peace within my own family. Peace between my parents, peace between my siblings Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-860037592002-12-14T16:29:00.000-05:002002-12-14T16:30:17.000-05:00Jason gave me a good idea.
So here you are, if you're stuck for a Christmas gift for yours truely. Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-859083192002-12-12T14:53:00.000-05:002002-12-12T14:53:19.820-05:00I've spent the majority of my life as a friend.
It started in sixth grade, with Hannah Jones. Hannah and I stood at the same bus stop together, every day for two years. She had long blonde hair, a pretty smile, and an above average sense of humor. She was strong too, at least stronger than I and all the other prepubescent boys who stood by the curb of Piedmont Ave. And so of course, I had a Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-854406322002-12-03T14:56:00.000-05:002002-12-03T14:56:22.410-05:00"To find a rhythm in life, you must look no further than the seasons. Every seasons is different, fall to winter, spring to summer, and yet every year there is a summer, followed by fall. This is the rhythm of God. This is the ebb and flow in which we find both peace, and satisfaction."Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-851794232002-11-27T16:16:00.000-05:002002-11-27T16:16:16.616-05:00As if Thanksgiving weren't full of enough nostaligia.
Back in Gainesville, just long enough to pick up Donnette and reminesce about the last few years. I met Christian here. I met Dave here, Chuck here, Tom and Carrie and Jenn and Jason and Ashley.
In many ways, I met myself here.
I miss this place.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-848820862002-11-21T14:02:00.000-05:002002-11-21T14:02:58.453-05:00Christian is getting married one month from today.
It was nearly a year ago when he told me. We went to Sunny's, and over a Pork Big Deal he told me he was going to move home, buy a ring, and ask Harmony to marry him.
Sam asked Stephanie to marry him last Saturday. They're just waiting for next seasons football schedule to come out before setting a date.
Colby is going to ask Emma to marry Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-847299652002-11-18T18:06:00.000-05:002002-11-18T18:06:25.873-05:00Beloved these are dangerous times
Because you are weightless like a leaf from the vine
and the wind has blown you all over town
Because there is nothing holding you to the ground
So now you would rather be
A slave again than free from the law
Beloved listen to me
Don't believe all that you see
and don't you ever let anyone tell you
That there's anything that you need
But me
Beloved these Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-845412472002-11-14T15:31:00.000-05:002002-11-14T15:32:27.000-05:00"Decaf, grande, skinny, Irish Cream, no foam, stirred, extra-hot, latte."
More steps than a missle launch sequence. The woman didn't even wait until I asked her what she wanted, she just let loose as if I could have possible given a shit. A Tom Hanks character once said that the whole purpose behind places like Starbucks is for people who have no decision making ability what-so-ever to make sixChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-845405762002-11-14T15:14:00.000-05:002002-11-14T15:17:43.000-05:00Last night I dreamed I was at my old church in Lake Wales.
First Baptist was having a Christmas show, and my Grandmother was playing the organ. Which meant that I, along with my brother and sisters, were forced to go. I did not want to go, I wanted to just stay home and read the book I'd just bought, a book that from the cover resembled the type of book bored middle-aged women read. Beautiful Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-843861952002-11-11T18:20:00.000-05:002002-11-11T18:36:43.000-05:00I received a flier in the mail today.
It's purpose was to find out my "entertainment needs." Questions ranged from how many movies I own, to how many hours per week I spend watching T.V. I own less than 10 DVD's, and I have no idea how many hours per week I spend watching T.V. Unfortunately, "too many" wasn't an option. There was, however, a question that caught my attention, and rather than Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-839702432002-11-03T16:04:00.000-05:002002-11-03T16:04:15.993-05:00Few things make me smile like this...
"Instead, they went home losers, and their fans -- cautiously optimistic in all the pregame revelry this week -- had to make the slow walk of shame out of Alltel Stadium.
Again"
(ESPN.com on the Florida/ Georgia game)
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-834754572002-10-24T16:03:00.000-04:002002-10-24T16:03:04.223-04:00I turn 24 today.
I've always been a big believer in birthday's, I love them, want everyone around me to know that yes, today, 24 years ago, I entered the world. Keith hates birthday's, he says he wanted to stay nine forever. (If you've ever spent time with Keith, then you'll know that his wish at least in part came true.) But me, I've loved every birthday I've had, except my 20th. Because reallyChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-833174432002-10-21T17:46:00.000-04:002002-10-21T17:46:14.553-04:00It's fall in North Carolina.
Actually, it's fall everywhere, it's just that for me, this is the first time October has actually felt like fall. In Florida, fall usually begins sometime between Christmas and Groundhog day. Everyday on my way to work I see more and more trees move from hunter green to brilliant shades of orange, yellow and brown. For years I thought it was only a myth that leavesChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-829338492002-10-13T17:29:00.000-04:002002-10-13T17:29:41.113-04:00If good fences make for good neighbors, then the best fence is Spanish.
Our downstairs neighbors are all hispanic, Mexican to be exact. Two or three sets of families, probably in their late thirties, maybe early fourties. At least two young kids, but they may just visit from time to time. They seem like nice enough people, they smile and wave when we walk by, they haven't told us to stop playingChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-828541932002-10-11T15:18:00.000-04:002002-10-11T15:18:35.820-04:00I could just kick myself.
Starting in January all I wanted was to get out of Gainesville, to move on with my life. Whining and complaining, I looked for reasons to be content, the whole time really thinking that my life would begin when I move here, and not a moment sooner. I mean really, what could have possibly made me want to stay in Gainesville one minute longer than I had to?
And then I Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-818276572002-09-19T12:30:00.000-04:002002-09-19T12:30:25.006-04:00Everyday on the way to the library, Keith and I hit this one particular man hole, bitch about how there shouldn't be a man hole that big and raised up so that our cars nearly leap it when we drive over it, and then think to ourselves that tomorrow, when we drive to the library, we should be in the other lane in order to miss the man hole altogether.
Everyday.
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-817283082002-09-17T12:31:00.000-04:002002-09-17T12:31:56.826-04:00"Number three:
I miss, her smell. And the way she tastes. It's a mystery of the human chemistry, and I can't explain it, but some people, for whatever reason, just feel like, home."
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-815148202002-09-12T13:50:00.000-04:002002-09-12T13:50:29.090-04:00During a concert, Derek Webb once told the crowd...
"No matter how bad you think you are, you are 1,000 times worse. And that's the best news you'll ever hear."
I think it left most of the crowd wondering what he meant. It's counterintuative, to look at yourself and know you're rotten, and to find joy in that.
But to know your broken is the first step to finding grace. To know yourself, and Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-813602062002-09-09T12:07:00.000-04:002002-09-09T12:07:33.690-04:00I've always been captured by what Kierkegaard wrote in Enten-Eller [Either/Or].
He wrote about his fear of love, or more, his fear of intimacy. He wrote that true intimacy would lead to despair, because anyone who got that close to him would see him for who he really was, all his blackness and mirk. If I remember, he believed so strongly in this that he broke off his engagement with the only Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-811577332002-09-04T17:40:00.000-04:002002-09-04T17:40:02.980-04:00I've often wondered at exactly what point theology and my life would truely meet.
The point where my belief in God, a very Christian God would impact my life in such a way that I would have to make a decision, a real decision.
I'm here in Charlotte to go to seminary. But I've also loved North Carolina my whole life, and pagans have graduated from seminary before. Most of my choices, I've Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-807807512002-08-27T12:12:00.000-04:002002-08-27T12:12:51.260-04:00North Carolina at last.
I actually could have written that last week, but I've been busy looking for non-existent jobs, sending out endless resume's, and waiting and waiting and waiting. I don't really want a job, I want to go to school. But I need a job, or rather I need money, and because really, who wants to work?
Job hunting hasn't really been on my mind though, saying goodbye has been. I Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-802854402002-08-15T14:28:00.000-04:002002-08-15T14:28:12.673-04:00My life is a palindrome.
Always the same, backwards and forwards. I meet a girl, I fall for the girl, and for one reason or another, it just can't be. I could be more careful, a little more cautious. More guarded. But who wants to read of a cautious love story, devoid of chance or mystery?
Apparently, not me.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-797171442002-08-01T23:20:00.000-04:002002-08-01T23:25:58.000-04:00I have three keys on my key chain.
Actually, I've about seven keys on my key chain. One for my car, one for our apartment's mailbox, one unlocks the Christ Community Church office. One key; I don't even know what it's for. I'll probably never figure out what that key unlocks, until the day after I get rid of it and then find myself in desperate need of it. When I was a kid, my mom had a key Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-795013462002-07-28T01:56:00.000-04:002002-07-28T01:56:18.240-04:00How do you say goodbye, when goodbye is the last thing you want to say?Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-792931352002-07-23T03:22:00.000-04:002002-07-23T03:22:54.996-04:00The exchange is almost always the same.
I mention I'm about to move, and then I'm immediately fed a number of reasons why I should be so happy to be leaving Gainesville. Thrilled that I've managed to escape it's clutches in favor of greener pastures. And I hear it all the time, people grumbling about how much they hate being here, how ready they are to leave for some place that isn't here.
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-792460692002-07-22T02:24:00.000-04:002002-07-22T02:25:57.000-04:00Two for the price of one.
Our internet is working again, and the apartment complex has decided to give us free cable for the next two weeks. I'll never leave the house again. Never.
Well maybe.
I've hated not having the internet, it's as if I've missed out on a whole world of happenings that I'd previously been in the midst of. I never really realized how much time I spent on this thing, Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-785681712002-07-04T20:58:00.000-04:002002-07-04T20:58:19.346-04:00The fourth of July, and I'm with my favorite people on the planet.
Really, they're all sitting outside, drinking beer and waiting for the crawfish to finish boiling. It's still light outside, but some people are already setting off what I'm sure are illegal fireworks, with only a small danger of catching the whole neighborhood on fire. The guys who I call friends but consider brothers are all Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-783692862002-06-29T23:09:00.000-04:002002-06-29T23:09:15.126-04:00A forced leave of absence.
Our internet is down, I've no means to consistently do anything online anymore. Untimely, I need the internet to look for a job, to write my friends, to keep random readers updated on the events of my life.
I've met someone new, someone who I've very quickly grown fond of, and (this is important) has grown fond of me. I've lived in Gainesville for nearly four years, Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-775228442002-06-09T02:11:00.000-04:002002-06-09T02:11:04.063-04:00I met a girl at a party tonight.
This isn’t earth-shattering news. It was just nice to have someone laugh at my jokes.
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-774923032002-06-08T02:39:00.000-04:002002-06-08T02:39:46.000-04:00Here's what I've found about love...
That to love someone, you must not just take the good with the bad, but rather you must embrace them both and make them your own. To love someone is to see them for all their shortcomings, their imperfections, their scars, and to cherish those things as much as you do all the noble and upright things that make the unknowing world take notice of them.
To Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-774514462002-06-07T01:45:00.000-04:002002-06-07T01:47:25.000-04:0012326 Scalybark Lane
It's been awhile since I've written anything here, which might give one the impression that my life has been dull and not at all worth writing about. But the truth of the matter is, when I'm busy actually doing things, I've no real time or energy to write about them. It's in those bored moments that genius strikes, or at least I hope it's genius.
I have a home in North Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-771054212002-05-29T12:23:00.000-04:002002-05-29T12:23:34.590-04:00"Amiable agnostics will talk cheerfully about man's search for God. For me, they might as well talk about the mouse's search for a cat...God closed in on me."
~C.S. Lewis
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-768301012002-05-22T01:36:00.000-04:002002-05-22T01:36:12.726-04:00It would be so easy to fall all over again.
Not very smart, but this sort of thing never was.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-767884612002-05-21T01:53:00.000-04:002002-05-21T01:53:18.146-04:00I had this dream about a month ago...
I'm normally not a big dreamer, in fact I think I've gone years without a single dream, or at least one I can remember. I'm sure somewhere out there will be quick to point out that we all dream all the time, but to them I ask, "Is it really a dream if you don't remember it?" Anyways, back to the story.
I don't remember much about it, but I do remember the Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-766747832002-05-17T18:28:00.000-04:002002-05-17T18:28:57.333-04:00"Do you ever find yourself overwhelmed by the weight of providence? The odd conjunction of angst and peace that rolls like a tidal wave through the fragile castles we've all managed to build, getting everything wet but by that same token making everything clean. The rock-tearing wind followed by the still small voice. It is a weight of imaginable burden, but also great relief."Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-766103832002-05-16T02:59:00.000-04:002002-05-16T03:01:59.000-04:00"You're a great juggler," I said, my hands perched in my pockets. I was out for a midnight stroll on vacation, and there she was. I stooped and put a buck in her hat.
She looked at me goofily, crossed her eyes, and made bird lips. She threw a ball 10 feet in the air and then began doing a hula movement inside her pantaloons.
"Want to have a drink?" I asked.
She turned her painted face slowly Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-764321292002-05-11T12:21:00.000-04:002002-05-13T11:44:59.000-04:00"Calling all rednecks
To put down their sluggars
And turn their attention
From beating the buggers
Pick up machine guns
And kill camel-fuckers
Backwoods nation
Calling all doctors
Of spin and the smokescreen
To whip the new patriots
Into a frenzy
Of good versus evil
Ignoring the history
Of the backwoods nation
Ain't it a shame?
When due process
Stands in the way
Of swift Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-762546772002-05-07T03:56:00.000-04:002002-05-07T03:56:51.076-04:00"That night, Jacob got up and took his two wives, his two maid servants and his eleven sons and crossed the ford of Jabbok. After he had sent them across the stream, he sent over all his possesions. So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob's hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-761066932002-05-02T23:53:00.000-04:002002-05-02T23:53:52.483-04:00My friend Keith tells a story about his family, that I think is worth sharing.
"My dad, and his whole family, was raised in the south. Not Florida south, which is really a northern state without the snow and bad traffic, but the South. I mean, "Dukes-of-Hazard" South. Georgia to be exact, southern Georgia. Red clay and paper mills. My dad was born in the 50's, desegregation at best a myth, at Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-758422352002-04-26T05:48:00.000-04:002002-04-26T05:48:42.670-04:00So life doesn't suck, and while I still feel a little hurt, I also have a tendency to get, well, melodramatic.
Tomorrow, Sam, Andrew and I are driving over to Jacksonville to celebrate Keith's birthday. Celebrate by going to the STP concert. Celebrate the fact that Keith is 24, and in six short months I will be too.
Mid-twenties...sounds so, old.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-756661712002-04-21T20:39:00.000-04:002002-04-22T02:37:18.000-04:00My tendency, when people hurt me, is to pull away, not deal with them, forget and move on.
This sounds painful, and maybe it was at first. But I'm amazed at the hearts ability to gloss over what it doesn't like, those things that make it uncomfortable. Closure is just so, well, final...and I'd rather simply ignore it all, Ben Harper strumming "Walk Away" softly in the background of my mind.
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-756563912002-04-21T15:05:00.000-04:002002-04-21T15:05:46.113-04:00"No one wants to come out against evangelism, especially me. It may very well be that in the providence of God the apparent threat of an impending rapture and the tribulation which follows may actually have motivated a few folks to spread the Good News. Wouldn't it just be like God to use this to bring his sheep into his fold? There's a true sign of the sovereignty of God—he's strong enough to Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-756125282002-04-20T02:03:00.000-04:002002-04-20T02:03:03.816-04:00"Let none, then, approach this awful Table without reverent devotion and fervent love, without true penitence, or without recalling his redemption. For it is the Lamb without spot, without taint or smirch of sin, that is eaten in the unleavevend bread. Approach not before the cleansing waters have poured over thy soul; approach not without firm faith, burning charity, the vinegar of suffering, Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-755732802002-04-19T00:17:00.000-04:002002-04-19T00:17:18.160-04:00I think, the very definition of a good friend, is someone you don't mind being totally quiet around.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-754959952002-04-17T02:18:00.000-04:002002-04-17T02:57:33.000-04:00On a totally unrelated note, do you ever get the feeling you're being played for a complete fool? Or, that you're suffering from the worst form of dillusion: self importance?
I can't even figure out which I'd rather have be true. Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-754952932002-04-17T01:50:00.000-04:002002-04-17T01:50:19.540-04:00Once again, safe and sound in Gainesville.
For the first time since Christmas, I went home, for the entire weekend. I always sleep well, better than anywhere else at least, when I'm in Winter Haven. Emily and I were able to play, my mom and I were able to just sit and talk, I was able to watch hours upon hours of cable television; I should go home more often. It's weird though, to walk around Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-752756162002-04-11T01:20:00.000-04:002002-04-11T01:21:05.000-04:00Have you ever just wanted to really hurt for someone? To suck up all the pain from someone elses chest, and to put it in your own, just so they wouldn't have to be quite so burdened down.
My Mom emailed me today, to tell me that Courtney's grandmother is in the hospital, and not going to make it very much longer. Her grandmother has to have open-heart surgery this Friday, but she's not really Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-752354992002-04-10T01:30:00.000-04:002002-04-10T01:30:26.996-04:00I was baptized this weekend.
Andrew and I drove to Savannah this weekend, it was Claire's birthday and she'd invited us to meet her there to hang out Friday night. To be honest, I didn't really want to go: it seemed like a long drive, for a short time, for nothing but frustration. I'm not a glutton for punishment, I didn't really want to be around her. But Andrew talked me into it, and so Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-114047882002-04-03T00:49:00.000-05:002002-04-03T00:52:52.000-05:00I struggle to tell the truth, most of the time, I struggle to even figure out what the truth is.
The truth is, I feel desperate tonight, a little out of hope.
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-113327912002-04-01T00:28:00.000-05:002002-04-01T00:28:14.780-05:00The more I hear people talk, the less I want to talk.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-113273552002-03-31T21:49:00.000-05:002002-03-31T21:49:32.346-05:00"Desperation is the devil's work, it is the folly of a boy's empty mind"
Belle & Sebastian
I think if you substituted jealousy for desperation, you'd pin me to the matt. Not a lot of jealousy, mind you, just enough to be completely destructive. Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-113007912002-03-31T00:58:00.000-05:002002-03-31T01:32:54.000-05:00"The whole Earth shimmers and stirs, as if expecting some long awaited news. Dark had seemed so dark, but now, just along the horizon, amber hues hang low, hope to those who can not find their way. Dew forms on lilies flowers; a warm mist rises from the ground. The night has no choice but to give way to the dawn, which stretches across the land, the east to the west. The tress sway gently about, Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-112574692002-03-29T15:42:00.000-05:002002-03-29T15:42:08.876-05:00Good Friday.
Today always makes me think of Justice. Ransom. Substitution. Cost. Of cups.
The Just, dying for the unjust. Today is the day, that when pondering it, made even Martin Luther cry out "a mystery!" How the very God of very God could, all at once, pour out his wrath upon himself, for the sake of another, a mystery.
The hymn goes "I was so lost, I should have died." Should have, Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-112223962002-03-28T15:34:00.000-05:002002-03-28T15:34:17.750-05:00Adulthood ushers itself in, unexpected, unannounced, and often unwelcome. I've two friends, and their stories have been on my mind more than a little bit.
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-111608252002-03-26T22:55:00.000-05:002002-03-26T22:55:37.056-05:00I hate being sick.
Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-110849412002-03-24T22:29:00.000-05:002002-03-24T22:30:49.000-05:00Home.
I'm torn, I want to write about the incredible trip we took, but I think it'd turn out to be one of those "I guess you had to be there" stories. Maybe one day, when I'll feel comfortable writing about everything that happened there. Bradford spent the week with some friends, and while he was there he managed to hurt his paw. Not bad, just a little scrape, but you'd think he'd lost his pawChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-110329412002-03-23T02:35:00.000-05:002002-03-23T02:35:43.043-05:00As it turns out, walking wasn't much of a problem.
Waking up to snow covered ground, and a -3 degree wind chill, that ran us off the mountain quick.
Which is why I'm sitting in Jacksonville, and not still in Virginia.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-108003122002-03-16T13:16:00.000-05:002002-03-16T13:16:58.826-05:00I've done my best to escape my computer the last few days; spending time in the "real" world, meeting new people, and trying to kick Claire out of every other thought. We're actually still friends, and I still want to call her when I move to Charlotte. But, that's in the future, and not now, and I (need) want to try and live in the present.
Tomorrow afternoon, Andrew and I are driving to Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-106655542002-03-12T14:39:00.000-05:002002-03-16T13:23:47.000-05:00"There is much made, lately, of faith. In a world where technology has made information accessible to anyone with a computer, where to "know" is as common as to think, to possess something greater than that is of note. Faith stands solemn, the lone solider, flag in hand, atop a troubled hill of disbelief. Those who have faith quiet the inner Neitzche, the forever skeptic that we all harbor deep Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-106066462002-03-10T23:35:00.000-05:002002-03-10T23:44:19.000-05:00Over the summer, I kissed a girl named Sydney.
I shouldn't have ever even been in class with her. Last spring, I was registered for British History 3335, what should have been my last history class. But the class started at 8:30, and I suffered from what can best be described as...laziness. So I never went, except for the day our research paper was due, and the days we took one of our two examsChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-104773462002-03-06T23:57:00.000-05:002002-03-06T23:58:30.000-05:00People who ask for the truth need to be prepared for the response.
I don't want to write about this last week, not even a little bit, because I'm exhausted, and confused, and not sure exactly what happened. And the thing of it is, nothing really bad happened, it just wasn't great, and to tell the truth, I was sort of (wishing, hoping praying) something great would happen.
People say that we Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-103694062002-03-04T12:12:00.000-05:002002-03-04T12:12:47.423-05:00I've spent part of the morning reading through my old archives. Seven months worth of writing.
And one of two things have happened. Either I've become much more honest with myself, or I'm walking the downside of some steep path to no where. I'm betting on the former, honesty playing the role of that pimple that just burst after days of poking at it.
Yeah, that's disgusting.
Accurate though.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-103686922002-03-04T11:53:00.000-05:002002-03-04T11:53:39.283-05:00"My hope is built on nothing less,
than Jesus' blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus name.
On Christ the solid rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand,
all other ground is sinking sand."Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-103585232002-03-04T03:14:00.000-05:002002-03-04T03:14:22.653-05:00You remember that episode of Seinfeld? The one where Jerry cries after years of never crying? And he doesn't know quite what to make of it?
Yeah, that was me tonight.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-102937822002-03-02T02:29:00.000-05:002002-03-02T02:29:13.876-05:00Claire is here, asleep one block away. Beautiful as she was a month ago, smiles, funny, sweet. I dunno though. Forced maybe? Fun, but it's only one day and I'm exhausted.
So, I'm going to pray; for peace, for guidence, and for whatever else I need but don't know it. And then I'm going to go to bed. Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-101761402002-02-27T02:44:00.000-05:002002-02-27T02:44:54.153-05:00I did my own thing, and it worked.
(Although my own thing was a myrid of things that other people told me to do.)Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-101015992002-02-25T09:14:00.000-05:002002-02-27T02:45:15.000-05:00I'm an ass.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-100932122002-02-25T01:43:00.000-05:002002-02-25T01:56:59.000-05:00Yup.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-100809122002-02-24T19:00:00.000-05:002002-02-25T01:56:47.000-05:00Point taken?Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-100731052002-02-24T14:36:00.000-05:002002-02-24T14:36:15.106-05:00Rob often has children sing, or read scripture in church. Our church is filled with young families, the fellowship hall after church is much alike to a minefield made up, not of bombs, but of round faced toddlers. Every week, it seems, there are more children, running around, bumping into the back of your leg, half-eaten donut caked all over their mouths.
And so, about twice a month, Rob will Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-100613682002-02-24T02:51:00.000-05:002002-02-24T02:51:56.000-05:00I stood Jenn up tonight.
It's a long, and after I'd typed it up not a very interesting story, but we made plans to get together tonight, and I just didn't ever call her back. I guess that's a little mean, and I don't intend to be rude, but this is progress, of the very best kind. Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-100451392002-02-23T15:12:00.000-05:002002-02-23T15:12:17.773-05:00Wine,
music, dancing
more wine....
The Party's over, guests slowly filtering away. A sucess. (Excess?)
Girls, women, laides, beautiful. Those dresses. That dress.
Old friends, new friends, a few "who invited you?"'s.
Blue shirt. Green shirt. Pink shirt?! Damn, we looked good.
But not as good as her.
Time for bed. Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-99142112002-02-20T03:15:00.000-05:002002-02-20T03:16:17.000-05:00My third attempt at writing something tonight. I desperately want to just walk upstairs and go to bed, but my ass is apparently super-glued to this chair until I can type something worthwhile. At least in my own mind.
Nothing has changed, not my impatience, not my longing, not anything. I just want "now", and I want it, well, now! I feel, out of breath, as if I've been underwater for a long Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-99129992002-02-20T02:17:00.000-05:002002-02-20T02:17:00.010-05:00Are you nuts?Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-98074682002-02-17T01:09:00.000-05:002002-02-17T01:09:28.570-05:00Some screen writers have learned the fine art of subtly. Nuance, innuendo, hints. Others, well, have not.
I went with some friend tonight to see "John Q." I didn't have a clue, going in, what the movie was about, but since the lead is played by Denzel Washington, it couldn't be that bad. And, Anna invited me to go, so it was essentially, win-win. The last movie I remember crying at was E.T., Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-97845312002-02-16T02:21:00.000-05:002002-02-16T02:21:21.450-05:00When a couple breaks up, they should write a list. His and Her's: friends. The broken couple should spend about two hours, going over who they want to keep, and who they're willing to part with. Like in Fight Club, "you can't have both the parasites, I'll take the brain, you take the blood."
This way, all parties involved would know where they stood, and wouldn't have to go through the followingChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-97727332002-02-15T18:22:00.000-05:002002-02-15T18:22:00.816-05:00There is not a circumstance of our Lord's history
which is not another form or manifestation of love.
His incarnation is love stooping.
His sympathy is love weeping.
His compassion is love supporting.
His grace is love acting.
His teaching is the voice of love.
His silence is the repose of love.
His patience is the restraint of love.
His obedience is the labor of love.
His suffering is Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-97490312002-02-15T01:56:00.000-05:002002-02-15T01:56:38.000-05:00Valentines day. I worked, ten hours. Waiting tables at the Cracker Barrel, not the most pathetic thing to do on this hallowed day. Taking your beau to the Cracker Barrel, the very definition of pathetic.
"Darlin, I love you, get the country fried stake."
When I finally got off work, Andrew picked me up, took me home, and opened the door to my other roomate and three beautiful girls, plus four Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-97111772002-02-14T01:19:00.000-05:002002-02-14T01:19:36.986-05:00No matter how tired I am.Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-95996262002-02-11T02:18:00.000-05:002002-02-11T02:32:45.000-05:00Sam had an English assignment, writing in the present tense. For some reason, he wrote about his experience with Christianity, from the beginning until now. He asked me to proof read it, but after a light amount of prodding, he let me "ghost write" it. His story, my words. So here you are, gentle readers, my first attempt of the like...
"Sunday morning sometime in 1984. I can notChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-95416532002-02-09T01:30:00.000-05:002002-02-09T01:30:12.556-05:00I hope there is a special place in hell for poor tippers and resturant managers. Some place between personal claim attorneys, and 1930's facist dictators.
I've given the dating thing a bunch of thought, and I really have no clue what to think. In high school, I hardly ever dated, but that was largely due to my unwillingness to call anyone up. My first two years of college I barely dated either,Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-95082882002-02-08T02:25:00.000-05:002002-02-08T02:25:46.000-05:00"Some men they are lovers, others the fighting type. Me I'm the middle of choosing which one I'd like, to be."
Johnny Go Riding by Damien JuradoChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-94711132002-02-07T04:02:00.000-05:002002-02-07T04:08:44.000-05:00When I was a kid, my Grandfather would drive my mother and I out to the Gulf for a day of fishing and R.C. Cola. My Grandfather owned, (still owns it) a boat, although I'm able to use that term only in the loosest sense of the word. What my Grandfather actually owns is a few pieces of wood, held together by duck tape and the grace of God. Sometime before I was born, my Grandmother named it "The Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-94706412002-02-07T03:26:00.000-05:002002-02-07T03:26:57.373-05:00It's late, but I can hardly go to sleep. Whenever I'm at work, all I can think about is how amazing my bed is going to feel, the warmth of my blanket and the comforter pulled up all the way to my chin as I listen to the slow whir of the fan lull me to sleep. Coming home tells a different tale; I usually wait until I can no longer hold my eyes open for one more second before I fall into bed, the Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-94594892002-02-06T20:35:00.000-05:002002-02-06T20:35:57.330-05:00Try as I might to resist, I feel that I am turning into the sort of Christian "extremist" I always feared.
No, I don't plan to blow up any buildings, and I'll never be found on any Jerry Faldwell mailing list. I'm much more concerned with those things that are biblical, verses those things that have come to me via some other means. Instruments in worship, dating, schooling, etc. etc. How many Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-94281362002-02-06T00:33:00.000-05:002002-02-06T11:02:36.000-05:00Blister Soul (Reprise)
baptize me in elijah creek
how could i continue
near the furnace at debtors forge
just east of west virginia
heard the strain as a small child
of the drum and bugle corps
oh my blister soul
we interrupt this program
this report just in
carnage continues unabated
according to recent bulletins
yeah we're live on the scene baby
so let those cameras roll
oh my Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-94280092002-02-06T00:28:00.000-05:002002-02-06T10:54:57.000-05:00RUF, followed by another dinner at Hops. Normally, being there is an incredibly enjoyable experience, complete with free crosaunts and potato(e) soup instead of fries. Tonight though, we went with a ton of people, and it took nearly two hours, by the end of which I was pacing back and forth ready to just get my check so I could LEAVE.
Why the rush from a guy who is never in a hurry? Well, I'd Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-93935292002-02-05T03:51:00.000-05:002002-02-05T03:52:59.000-05:00Jason has pink eye, I think I have a touch of the flu. I don't know how to remove pink eye, but I did take a proactive solution to my stomach flu: drank coffee and ate Taco Bell, thereby *hopefully* flushing all of the offending virus' out of my system.
"I have exorcised the demons" Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-93701852002-02-04T14:22:00.000-05:002002-02-04T14:22:20.890-05:00Finding good, new music is like finding a long lost friend you never knew you had.
I didn't think I'd be able to survive without cable, but Pete Yorn, Jeff Buckley, Rufus Wainright, Ellis Paul and Damien Jurado keep coming over to hang out for hours at a time. Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-93514902002-02-04T00:29:00.000-05:002002-02-04T00:29:42.000-05:00Horse. Or is it hoarse? Whorse? Whatever it is, I lost my voice, rooting for a team I cared next to nothing about. Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-93234272002-02-03T02:06:00.000-05:002002-02-03T02:06:04.410-05:00I have a tendency to only follow good advice. Good, in that it is exactly what I want to hear, and not a detail beyond.
I went to dinner tonight with Sam, Mandy and Ashley. While sitting at Applebee's drinking the saltiest $1.99 margarita ever served, I thought it prudent to ask the girls, (and Sam although his help is often taken as one of those aforementioned pieces of salt), what they Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3089357.post-93004972002-02-02T08:18:00.000-05:002002-02-02T08:18:21.420-05:00"The lie is that only big will do; only big will change the world, so everyone will be kind to each other and the killing will stop. Big is the magic we look for first, but grace is what makes things work out against all odds. If it were too big, it might sweep away all the bits of knowledge and insight we're granted as we go along. If it were too big, it couldn't get through the almost invisibleChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06863293762136930193noreply@blogger.com0