As if we were having a real conversation

As if we were having a real conversation, and you cared about those things that were occupying me yesterday, all the little gossips concerning my own life.

I went for the eye exam on Friday. It was a totally new experience for me, and I found out only later that I was over half-an-hour late for my appointment. I discovered my lateness on my own, and I almost wish someone there had told me I was late, so I'd know whether it was noted in my file.

One thing you will learn about me is that I hate being late. Why? Because I hate the idea of inconveniencing anyone in this whole entire world. It is not my job to inconvenience you. It is my purpose to make things easier, not harder. It is my intention to treat you as though you were the most important person in the world. Why? Because you are. You, whoever you are, are the most important person in the world. To who?

I think you know the answer to that one.

I turn again to Psalm 139 (NASB):

O LORD, Thou hast searched me and known me.

Thou dost know when I sit down and when I rise up;

Thou dost understand my thought from afar.

Thou dost scrutinize my path and my lying down,

And art intimately acquainted with all my ways.

Even before there is a word on my tongue,

Behold, O Lord, Thou dost know it all.

Thou hast enclosed me behind and before,

And laid Thy hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;

It is too high, I cannot attain to it.

But what God does is He refines you until you forget all about yourself. I haven't forgotten about myself yet. I wish I could. And this, the first few verses of Psalm 139, will be next on my list of verses to memorize.

Those glasses...He said I needed glasses only in the evenings, but I think I need them whenever I'm inside. He said I should wear them whenever they made me more comfortable. At church yesterday I kept thinking, "I need them now. This is one of those situations where I need them. I need them whenever I am talking to you, or listening, and these almost imperceptible dark shadows go leaping across the room." I never realized before how often my eyes were strained.

I have to wait for the call to get my glasses, and I wonder if, when I get them, I will realize that I've made a mistake, chosen the wrong frames. Will the discomfort of wearing the glasses outweigh the comfort of not straining my eyes. Which, will it turn out, causes the greatest headache?

And those appointments that I've been missing? I've started taking Ginko Biloba even though I mistrust vitamin supplements, hoping that I will regain some of that short-term memory I seem to be losing with age.

We are humbled every day by things we think we ought to be able to do on our own and without any help. We are crippled when we don't admit we need it. Help, that is. And I am encouraged by this...

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. II Corinthians 4:16-17

And when I am distressed I think of all of creation groaning.

Good day today, for this shall be a day with friends, and there is work to do, but somehow and someway it will be done. And we are all in this together, though sometimes we may forget it. And so the day begins...and I love the beginning of each new day.

Impulsive, yes, Impulsive, but not really

...reading this book, and I admit again and again, that there is something lacking in my understanding such that I don't always recognize or appreciate satire. I confess to you that I did not enjoy that book, what was it called? The one that Walker Percy wrote the introduction to, which was supposed to be this great comic novel...The name that would not come to me, but his book, Percy's, which was sitting on my shelf, if only I would to to it and open its contents.

I will be writing in fragments, things better relegated to the pages of my own journal than published on the web for anyone to see. Because writing carefully and consciously is too difficult, and this stand-still I have been facing must be remedied. I have called this thing a journal after all.

A Confederacy of Dunces, and I read it but didn't understand what all the fuss was about, or why it was supposed to be humorous to listen to some man's pompous negativities and odd adventures. And clearly I didn't get it the way others had. What was lacking?

I remember that line from Good Neighbors, when Margot, realizing that she has not sense of humor whatsover asks..."Someone please tell me...why is it funny?" Margot, oh Margot, sometimes I want to ask the very same question. What is it in this novel that I am entirely missing?

And you may think that I'm asking this rhetorically, or mocking somehow, but really it is a sincere question...this world being so bewildering at times and I just don't get it.

...listening to the sounds of the dishwasher, running in the other room, and the children flying about the house while I sit behind my closed door. It is morning, and my husband is caring for the children while I sit here reading and thinking and avoiding writing, only I can avoid it no longer. It is time to break out of this aimlessness.

Only the writing now must be aimless, but maybe it will speak to someone. Maybe you needed to read this this morning, or maybe I needed only to write it... It's like a puff of air from one of those air canisters.  You know, the kind you use to clear your computers keyboard of all the dust, and pet hair, and remnants of the shells of nuts you thoughtlessly consumed while watching TV.

I haven't done enough of this drifting, and sometimes drifting is entirely necessary. And why must I subject anyone to this? I don't know, but somehow I must.

Reading Wayne Booth and I don't get it. Sometimes I do, but this morning I do not.

A tangle. I can live with a tangle. A jumble may eventually release your creativity. Or constrain it. I haven't decided which.

Impulsive. Yes, impulsive, but not really.

Really it is under control, and I am merely blowing out the dust.

And I can hear the water in the pipes behind me, making noises because the dishwasher has emptied itself of water...

Notes from Kelly

• My friends now have me desperate for a pinterest account, and I have to wait. Less than 24 hours ago I wasn't even slightly interested, and now I'm just waiting for that invitation to come to my inbox because I realized I could pin art and architecture, and figure out some things about my personal style.

• Levi Weaver is giving away one of his albums today only (2/16/12). I jumped on that because I've been listening to some of his music on grooveshark, and wanted to free some of it from my laptop computer. It's nice being able to listen to music online, but since we don't have the sort of setup to expand our musical universe, it's good to have a format that can be loaded onto an mp3 player. Besides which, the only chance I really have to listen to music is while walking the dog. Earlier this morning I spent my precious music money on his live album, most of which can be listened to here.

• I'm trying to listen while I write, as well as get this thing posted before his free music offer expires, so I'll lastly share with you my most recent favorite blog Old House Dreams. I don't know if you know this about me, but I am curious about the internal structure of just about every house I see, so long as it isn't a garden home. I'm not particularly interested in those. Old House Dreams feeds that curiosity, as well as reminding me how interesting restoration and period detailing can be. I do have a degree in interior design after all.

• I think it would be really fun to work on a big restoration project with someone who really knows their stuff.

Data Entry

To me there is something very satisfying about data entry. I know it's weird, but I like it.  With data entry you sort of know that there is going to be a beginning, a middle, and an end, and I find that sort of definition comforting.