Why I'm a music major...

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wind-whipped timbers,
railings painted white
absorb the salt
and mist of Sea

pudding-thick clouds
embrace the shoreline;
blankets that rain
on the trees, on me

facing the wind,
the ever-deepening Sound
makes shallow my breaths
makes firm my resolve

yes, greens and blues
but ever more gray;
dulling and blending
the Sea that calls

be lost
in my waves
in my current
in my cold
be lost

no one to see and
no one to hear;
the decision is made
to jump and to sink

Lost For Words...

Word

I, who live by words, am wordless when
I try my words in prayer. All language turns
To silence. Prayer will take my words and then
Reveal their emptiness. The stilled voice learns
To hold its peace, to listen with the heart
To silence that is joy, is adoration.
The self is shattered, all words torn apart
In this strange patterened time of contemplation
That, in time, breaks time, breaks words, breaks me,
And then, in silence leaves me healed and mended.
I leave, returned to language, for I see
Through words, even when all words are ended.
I, who live by words, am wordless when
I turn me to the Word to pray. Amen.

--Madeleine L'Engle

Does anyone interpret dreams?

In my vision at night I looked, and there before me was my friend Abby. We were at PLU even though Abby goes to Western Oregon University. We entered the gymnasium together, and there I witnessed a scene so ridiculous that I almost woke up. In the center of the gym, two Down Syndrome kids were engaged in an Ultimate Fighting Championship match, of which Abby was the referee. Her deaf and mute boyfriend Brent was announcing the match. He had a microphone and everything. I was on the floor with my friends, cheering for the UFC fighters, and a third Down Syndrome child was preparing to fight the winner of the current match. To the side of the gym was a stage with choir risers. On the risers, a choir composed entirely of Down Syndrome children stood singing. And there my dream ended.

My Southern Side...

Another Reason to Hate...

Kyle woke up at 4 P.M. yesterday. I had gone to 4 classes and had 2 tests by the time he stumbled out of his hellish mess of blankets and despair, bringing to mind a discussion we had last week:

Kyle's cell phone alarm went off sometime in the evening as a reminder to do laundry, eliciting the response, "God I hate that alarm!"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I used to set it as my alarm in the morning."

Kyle went on to reveal to me that any form of auditory stimulation used for rousing him from bed becomes a target of his hatred. He used to set his C.D. player as an alarm, but he began to hate the first couple of tracks on every single album that would play in the morning. This reveals an innate hatred of morning in Kyle, a hatred which is so deeply set that it finds reason to pit itself against the most potent display of emotion known to man--music. But then, Kyle knows nothing of emotion. He is a ruthless automaton with no feelings, and even less of a soul. But perhaps that's the way he wants it. I just know better than to try to awaken him from his cold, uncaring slumber. Then he'll hate me almost as much as I hate him.

My hero of the day!

Behold, all readers of my blog! Here is my hero of the day! For the 2nd time in the past month! Cheers, Joel.

Lazy Jerk

This is my roommate, Kyle (the pompous jerk). Today is Tuesday at 3:30 in the afternoon. Kyle just got back to our room with his breakfast. I'm serious.

Pompous Jerk

"Everything that could possibly be done wrong, you are doing."
--Kyle, in reference to my clapping

"I am the sun and air."
--Kyle

Me: "Kyle, why do you speak?"
Kyle: "To enlighten those around me."

Me: "I'm a genius."
Kyle: "I AM your source of inspiration!"

Me, after creating this post: "Hey Kyle, check out my blog."
Kyle: "HOLD ON!!!"

Relative Gloom

"Only when it is dark enough can you see the stars."

     --Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.