What kind of me are you?

So I found a fun book the other day and this was it's essential question. Here are some quotes : I'm my cat's pillow, I'm my dog's walker, I'm my shadow's body, I'm my dream's dreamer, I'm my best friend's best friend.
It's pretty much amazing.
So... what kind of me are you?

Oh the wonders!

who are you going to vote for? Well, I don't know. I probably won't know til I actually do it. How bout you?

I just saw the thinnest noodle on TV.

Awkwardness does love company, it's proven everyday.

Pudding hugs my mouth.

Ducks only like me if I have bread.

My lake is pretty.

Walking in the fall is wonderful.

Shall I go to Uganda or South Africa?

Mountains can disappear.

SNL is hilarious, especially during the Political season.

Hooray for angry songs that sound happy, even if they are by Pink!

Ooh, I still have rhubarb ice cubes!

Some people want the latest technology, I'm happy to have radio and turn signals again!!

And to all who read this, I miss you!

Author?

I'm thinking about writing a book. Not a story book, a poetry book. Bad poetry, like E. E. Cummings. A friend asked me once what kind of book I would write if I would write one, and that is what I answered. I didn't take myself seriously at all when I said it, but now I think about it, and I think that if I would want something of me to last and leave behind, that is what it would be. Strange, you would think that I would have said something more visually artistic. And I guess this is true of course too, because this is the kind of mark I currently make upon the world. But to be quite honest it is a much safer route. I can put all kinds of intense thought into my artwork, deeply personal and incredibly tragic or even completely unhinged and you can interpret it however you choose. You see it through your own lense and bring a whole lot of your own beauty or pain to whatever it was that I just tried to show you. And I can feel better because I got it out there, and just blame you for your misinterpretation.
But when I am gone, heaven forbid the world be rid of me! ha! then I might be ok with my true self being on paper. A more blunt form of my emotions and very internal processing. Then I don't have to look you in the eye. So yeah, I might write a book someday. But I'll be dead before it's published, and you probably will be too, and hence this post too is completely pointless.

Vicodin

I'm an extremely selfish person. I am also on drugs. I contemplate the appropriateness of this post. But my inhibitions are less and dropping. I wish some of you could know me now. I wish you could see this. And I wish that others didn't have to. I wish I knew what to do with my self. I wish I could fly. I wish that I could know the person I will someday marry and I could just be in this whatever state of drugged up bliss and rest silently upon his shoulder. I wish I could sing everyday with the passion of Dave Barnes who is absolutely beautiful to me. I have some sense to delete most of whatever I just wrote but also have sense enough to know that you are getting some sort of mild joy at reading this and that those of you who do read this won't hold it against me forever. I can't believe I'm going to post this. I can't believe that you actually read this garbage. I can't believe that i started this post the way I did, and I can't believe that i waste my time like this. I can't believe they expect me to teach tomorrow. Yes, they actually entrust me with children.

No such thing

There is no such thing as the socially competent. I heard a friend describe a stranger as socially awkward. I saw what he meant, but I also realize my own social failures. And then I started to see his and everyone's. One person makes spastic movements, another covers up what's really on their mind, another shuts down and closes people out. I've done all of these things.

Many of you have heard me say this in the past: awkwardness loves company. I'm awkward and so are you, let's acknowledge it, embrace it and have some awkward communion.

The Antidote

This is a sloth. A sloth is very slothful. He only poops once a week. He moves so little that some varieties turn green from the algae that grow on them. They are pathetic creatures. But he looks soft to pet at least! Yeah zoos and random knowledge!

I am no longer a sloth. My summer has been over for some time now, exterme-a-ly busy with grad school classes. This is my last week of it being technically vacation and I am soon to return to teaching and have a slight overlap with being a student as well. My summer will be very officially and incredibly over. The only reason for my confidence in the school year is that I made it last year and I was extreme-a-ly busy then with all the activities of moving in to an apartment, establishing residency in a new state, etc. I'll make it, it just won't look pretty. My busyness is going to prevent me from blogging much. But I do have some teaser questions for you: How much stock do you put in dreams? And almost unrelated, but potentially very related: How does God communicate? More on that later..... I think...

breathe in breathe out

Well, I haven't said much, in a long while. And my life has changed alot since then, but it has changed back, so really you didn't miss much. But then again, perhaps you missed it all. Perhaps I did too. I realize I am very cryptic, but I really don't care. This is my place to be as vague as humanly possible and not really care whether or not any of you understand me. But it is also my place to be quite the opposite and not really care if I offend any of you. Because after all you may not read it or you may not tell me that you do. Or I might not have talked to you in ages. Or I might not even know who you are. Crazy how this works.

I'm on an escapade of escape and recoil this summer. I'm a complete sloth and I don't care. Actually I do, and that is the problem. I read some, I doodle some, have high hopes of grand projects, stalk people on Facebook, dread my grad school classes that are quickly approaching, jam to music of all sorts, drink lots of IntaJuice, make better plans for next summer (Africa!). But mostly I'm just a sloth, and I'm told that this is ok, because I am a teacher and I need to recuperate. I think I need somebody to tell me that it's not ok and kick my butt and tell me what to do, or even do it with me. That's what I need. But my challenge is to do this all without that motivation and I'm slowly rising to it. I think I might volunteer at Habitat for Humanity for a day a week, just to kick me in my own butt. And it would be fun too. We went and helped in Windsor the other day for tornado relief. We basically organized a ton of donated goods. That was good, but I want to build something, paint something, fix something.

This is a worthless post and I do apologize, but at least you know I'm still posting, and that I will post something more enlightening in about a month.