Tuesday, June 22, 2010
I have absolutely nothing to say. Today's blog is merely a test to see how much nonsense people will read if it follows a logical sequence. I'll ramble with no real objective, and you decide when to give up. It will be like a staring contest where whoever looks away first loses. The ball is in your court.
Last week I read a short story by John Grisham while sitting on the toilet. It took 20 pages to tell about a mother and her adult boys who borrow a van to haul the corpse of another brother scheduled to be executed at midnight. That's exactly what happens. They borrow a van, he's executed, they drive home. There are no surprises. But it was strangely compelling. I ended up sitting on the toilet far longer than I intended.
It got me thinking. How does Grisham keep people on the pot like that? His books are slow moving and mildly depressing, yet he's one of the most famous authors today. I wish I could do that! Maybe that could be my new life goal: to say nothing and see how long I can keep a reader's interest. That would be awesome!
For John I think it's the details. He'll have a character scrunch his nose to an arrowhead-point while flaring a single nostril, raising the opposite eyebrow, and whispering through clenched teeth. Inevitably I catch myself contorting my face in an attempt to replicate what I'm reading. Sometimes Danielle catches me, and that's embarrassing. Especially when I'm in the bathroom.
If you don't like bathroom analogies you really aren't going to like my blog. I'm just telling you right now. I spend most of my time there so it stands to reason that some of my life's greatest insights come from potty time.
For example, you know when you are done peeing but you push a little harder to make sure there's nothing left? It's a smart move. You never regret the extra push. Experience has taught me that if you respect the push wet spots on pants are far less frequent.
So here's a pointless insight: the blog, for me, has been a giant pee. And this is the unfamiliar feeling of having nothing left. But maybe it's extra push time. Even though I don't feel emotional at all, I should give another squeeze to ensure minimal drippage.
This is good news. It means that I'm not in the same place as a month ago. I just read some of my earlier rants, and wow, they're rough. But that's good because I was working under the loose assumption that I wouldn't stay bitter and confused for a whole year. So far, so good, right?
The tough part now is to remember that I'm blogging for me and not to entertain imaginary fans. Lately I've had that creeping fear that my blog has already taken the arc of a creative band who gains notoriety with raw new music, but eventually drifts mainstream to appease listeners and be less offensive.
But I can't deny that I'm feeling more upbeat than a month ago. So it doesn't make sense for me to generate vitriolic blogs every day does it? Probably not. So should I abandon myself to reckless positivity? Can't do that either!
I'm afraid of being happy for three reasons. First, experience tells me that if I'm perpetually positive I will succumb to the pressure of maintaining a veneer when I'm actually hurting inside. Second, I have the capacity to trick myself into thinking I'm fine when I'm really not, leaving unprocessed emotions to fester until they find an unhealthy way to express themselves. And finally, if I cave on points one and two I will morph back into a spiritual hypocrite, judging others, and failing to be honest with myself. Eww!
But I've been thinking a lot about how futile my own thinking is. That sentence is like riding your bike in a circle. I'm pretty sure you can just keep saying it forever. Like this:
But I've been thinking a lot about how futile my own thinking is. But I've been thinking a lot about how futile my own thinking is. But I've been thinking a lot about how futile my own thinking is. But I've been thinking a lot about how futile my own thinking is. But I've been thinking a lot about how futile my own thinking is.
Have you had enough? Say uncle!
Anyway, the point is that I need an anchor. I do talk and listen to God every day, but I'm aware that my thinking is often wrong and I'm not aggressively pursuing new ideas that will help change my thoughts. That's a recipe for disaster or depression - or in my case, both.
The phrase that keeps ringing in my head is "in this book are the words of life." Someone said that to me the other day, and I just can't shake it. I totally agree. And I could use some words of life. I need wisdom or I'll just continue to spin around my own brain. I thought it would be fun, but it gets boring up here. The scenery starts to look the same.
So I'm thinking I want to read my Bible. Not because I want to be religious and I feel like I have to, but because my unprocessed anger is pretty much peed out, and it feels dumb to cycle around the same old track for a few more laps. I want to get on with life. (Well, maybe. But no promises or anything.)
If God is real, which He definitely is, and He loves me, which he definitely does, why don't I go ahead and start spending time with Him like I used to? Yeah, I don't understand everything that happened or why, and I still feel gun-shy about certain spiritual things. But now that the dust is sort of settling I know I want to be a man that believes.