Winding Up and Down

Like the hands of a clock, I'm winding down the end of the semester. Just two finals remain between my final grades at Emory and my plane ride back home. Linear Algebra on Monday and Biology are all that's left to pull through. There's a religion essay about important women in Buddhism's and Christianity's histories, but let's be honest, they don't really matter. Ok, so maybe they do, but I have little desire to write about them. It's the type of high school essay that you put off 'til the night before its due. You start scrambling your thoughts at midnight and produce a fine finished product around 1:00. That's my best work. But for now, I'll battle to convince myself to actually begin writing.

A Beautiful Mind

I watched the movie, and these lines jumped out at me.

John Nash: What do people do?
Ashley: It's called "life," John. Activities available; just add meaning.

We have routines to life. We make friends. We go to work or class, what have you. But why? What drives us to these rythyms, these programmed responses of what we are expected to do? Is it our pride, our selffulfillment, perhaps a pat on the back? We must find meanings and define our actions around them.

The only question left is what's your meaning.

Happy Birthdays

A very special Happy Birthday to...

Catherine Carter:
It's always Catherine Carter or Catherine, never Cat. Remember, too much partying will leave you broke, poor, and naked on the street. Thanks for the cheesecake, it was better than Suzanne touching me in the car. Oh. Oh, wow.

Janna Schulze:
Always a good time talking to you on AIM. Texas is miles away, but who knows I may visit one day. Thanks for always entertaining me and keeping me up to date with Lost. Keep bloggin'.

Carolyn Cole:
We've become so close recently, sleeping over and all. But, we should keep our distance. I mean, one baby is enough, but I don't want Dan getting suspicious. Stay clean and off the streets. You do belong.

The Stone Table

I saw The Chronicles of Narnia: the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis last night. The PG movies satisfied the child in my nineteen year old body, as well as all the other five to ten years olds in the theater. But, what moved me most was Aslan and Edmund. Edmund is the kid asking for more. Edmund wants Turkish Delight, wants hot chocolate. Most people found Edmund to be the annoying brother who looks out only for himself. But, he is more: he is us. The deep magic demands his blood, but Aslan decides otherwise. Trading himself for Edmund, Aslan deep with grief walks up stone steps to his death. The witch and her minions shave him, humiliate him, and bind him tightly. This will be his death. He is put on the stone table, and the witch, pale with hatred and white without life, plunges the dagger into Aslan's side. Aslan dies.
Most people don't realize how moving this scene is to me. To me, this is Jesus dieing for me. This is his death on the cross. Aslan on the stone table. This is the idea I live behind. That something is bigger than me, that something is taking care of me. It gives me rest that nothing in this world has given me, not even family or my closests friends. Leaving the theater, I saw a little boy and girl. Their tiny hands wrapped about their parent's pinkies, and their eyes wide with curiosity. They saw kings and queens, fairy tale action. Aslan and the stone table like chid's play. I wonder if they will ever question it?

Breadline

This poem was written after a Thanksgiving meal. Eating a roll, I thought what would a hobo think? This is what followed.

On the Breadline

This pupil constricts
at your golden perfection.
Your curves round and soft,
drawn from the square dumpster.

I choose you.

To devour you
not wasting a crumb,
slip into my mouth,
buttered top and fluffy dough.

I’ve waited to taste you.

You're smooth and warm,
like fireplaces through windows.
This cold, grey concrete beset
by your warm, brown edges.

Consume me.

Those Good Days

We have those rare days when the world makes sense. The days when everything is in perspective. The world isn't perfect by any means and neither am I. But in this human, mortal experience, things go right occasionally. These are the days when you're happy for the jobs you have, for the work you do in school. People remind you that the eighty eight on your economics test matters. They remind you that every word that drips from your tongue is consumed by parched minds. You are a social being, and these interactions are more than just water works.

But, these days are still more to me. Its another day spent alive. Alive. Alive like taking a test. Alive like catching yourself falling on the familiar third step that you thought was there but wasn't. Alive like high school gossip. Alive like running from wolves. Alive like Motorcycle Drive By. It is the energy that drives my life.