part 2-the collision (a synopsis of my cynicism, i'm a one trick pony)

I am trying my best to be eloquent through this whole dig. i think the few people who do visit my narcissistic blog are exhausted by my elementary cynicism, but for some reason it is always the fuel for my posts. This is part 2 to my previous post, and this ventures deeper into my confusing and contradicting, silly opinions and my collegiate born disposition on spirituality. sometimes people say I'm not a christian, some of my friends call me a "closet atheist"...but that is all non sense. I am merely a curious boy, and my thought process concerning reality and the existence of christ is one that I do not take lightly. looking back on my years in college, it is no surprise that I started to think differently, isn't that typical? that is when kids learn about Betrand Russel's "will to doubt", and they get behind social causes; that is when God stops making sense, questions of free will, omnipotence and the sick human condition come into play and things break down. Cliche arguments spring up everywhere, they are fought for for a little while until the urgency of living takes the place of a learning environment. I started taking some philosophy classes in college, not all of them were interesting. I had intro to philosophy, a class called "ways of knowing", (which despite it's bullshit title was actually pretty interesting), I had a class called "sex gender and philosophy" which was where I was introduced to Foucault. I didn't understand him then, and I don't understand him now. I wasn't reading a whole lot at the time, but I had begun to delve into Noam Chomsky with a little more enthusiasm. In my classes, I was introduced to "human reason", empiricism, sense perception, questions of reality, and what was most interesting to me was some philosophers attempt at proving the existence of God based solely on logic and reason, not faith. I liked that, because convincing someone of Christ's existence is an impossible task, and more than likely, trying to convince someone with terms like "faith" is silly, because faith means nothing to people who have never experienced faith in the Christian context. So here I was learning about concepts such as (from what I remember), the "Greatest Conceivable Being" argument, and at the same time, I was reading about how people were disproving the existence of God with the same tool of reason. Pascal said that you can both prove and disprove the existence of God, and that just shows the limits of man's reason. I wasn't set out to rebel against God, but I was determined to learn why there were so many religions, so many faiths, and so many ways of thinking about God, even within the church. I grew up convinced that Christianity was the only way to heaven, and my faith was my conviction, although, now I come to find out that there are other religions whose followers display a faith deeper and more consistent than any one I ever knew growing up in the church, and they were "crazy" right? So what did that make me? Why was voodoo silly, and islam crazy, but christianity sensible? I was finding out that many religions held generally the same belief systems, the same set of basic morals, but used different stories and illustrations to communicate it to people. The different religions were becoming cultural conduits to the idea of God, a God in general. And as I write this, I'm well aware that these potholes and barriers in ones' development is not unique, I believe that anyone who cares about anything enough to commit their life to it, should get to the bottom of it all before the go spouting off dogma and trying to convince people to believe what they believe, and to this day, I think that many christians who witness, so eager and blind in their newly acquired job to bring people to Christ, are hardly aware of why they themselves believe it, beyond the fact that they were raised (conditioned) that way. You can't convince anyone of anything if you don't know why you believe it yourself, and so, for my whole tenure in college, I had no desire to persuade people towards Christ at all, I was well aware of my shallow depths, and even more so, my ceiling concerning the human experience. Like I've said many times before , being a Christian was easy for me, it required no faith, only those silly fall back bible verses that come in handy when someone asks you a question you could never answer, of course, those always leave you unsatisfied if you are honest with yourself. I was going to this church in Oveido, a small town in central Florida, and the more I went, the more I felt confined and cheated. I am making no judgements on people, nor do I know their lives, or the hardships they've been through, but I will say that when I look back, going to church reduced my scope. It was reduced to a level which left me drowning and angry in the "fantasy of christianity". I didn't know it at the time, but now, I realized what was not connecting, and that I was never made aware of Christ's connection to humanity, it was never practical, it was always lofty and out of this world and sometimes reeked of bigotry. I began to flat out disagree with what my church and surrounding christians were saying. Whether it be politics or lifestyle, I wasn't seeing eye to eye. It wasn't as though my views were extreme, but I felt that theirs was archaic in a sense, they never accounted for diversity or human design and condition at all. I know that might sound vague, but from what I was hearing, their idea of an ideal christian was to be built out of a specific, strict mold, which ultimately cheated and undermined the idea of man being God's creation and love, which the church itself claimed to be a steward of. They would go on and on how to be a good christian and how to rely on faith, although, sometimes I feel no one knows how to be a good Christian, because God and Christ will never cease to be a mystery. It's hard to imagine the ideal of Christianity being made appealing, the objective story of Christ is tragic, it is not something to rejoice. It is a display of human arrogance and cruelty. The obstinate pride and, at the same time, rational response of humanity, to a man claiming to be the son of God.

"With our knowledge of who Christ is (if in other respects one can have knowledge of that at all) or at least imagining that we have knowledge, let us not, coming eighteen hundred years later, consider the miracle and then become convinced. What abysmal nonsense!........Pay attention to the situation of contemporaneity; if you do not pay attention to that, then you deceive yourself into a delusion. the point is that in Christendom one has only a fantasy picture of Christ, a fantasy God-figure, directly related to performing miracles. But this is an untruth; Christ never looked like that. The Christianity of Christendom is fantasy in both respects--with respect to miracles and with respect to Christ. In the situation of contemporaneity you are placed between this inexplicable thing (but from that it still does not follow that it is a miracle) and then an individual human being who looks like others--and it is he who does it"

That quote is from Kierkegaard's "Practice in Christianity" and I like it because it mentions the fantasy of Christendom, and that relates to my life growing up and the ease in which I was a Christian. It seemingly would offend Christ, and to this day I offend Christ. All of the wonders of these miracles, Christ walking the earth so meekly and pleasant, leaving love and compassion in his wake...that is not how i see it. He was controversial, he represented everything the Church is against; and if you believe in the story of Christ, then it should just be reaffirmed, being that he was killed.

"Why says the established order to the single individual, do you want to torture and torment yourself with the enormous criterion of ideality; turn to the established order, join the established order, here is the criterion. If you are a student, then you can be sure that the professor is the criterion of truth. If you are a clergyman, then the bishop is the way and the life. If you are a clerk, then the councilor of justice is the goal"

"Surely enough, this deification of the established order is the perpetual revolt, the continual mutiny against God"

"The deification of the established order, however, is the smug invention of the lazy, secular human mentality that wants to settle down and fancy that now there is total peace and security, now we have achieved the highest"

I'm continually shocked and put off when people can't understand me when I say that Christ and Christianity bear no relation, the latter has done all it can to replace and abuse the former, manipulate our free will, our tenacity and dedication to unconditional love, and it bled it's way into politics, allowing it spew and spit poison all over America and the world. I'm infuriated. I was reading about the "Grand Inquisitor" and I fell upon the term "spiritual agony" and I understood it completely. I think "The Grand Inquisitor" is one of the most amazing pieces of literature. It deals directly with the issue of free-will and truth in relation to the weakness of man and the idea that God, allowing us the knowledge of good and evil, and man can not deal with that much freedom. In a sense, that is God's mistake, in remaining a mystery and allowing mankind to chose for him/herself, he essentially set us out to ,eventually, destroy all that he stood for.

"So long as man remains free he strives for nothing so incessantly and so painfully as to find some one to worship. But man seeks to worship what is established beyond dispute, so that all men would agree at once to worship it. For these pitiful creatures are concerned not only to find what one or the other can worship, but to find something that all would believe in and worship; what is essential is that all my be together in it. This craving for community of worship is the chief misery of every man individually and of all humanity from the beginning of time. For the sake of common worship, they've slain each other with the sword. They have set up gods and challenged one another, 'Put away your gods and come and worship ours, or we will kill you and your gods!' And so it will be to the end of the world, even when gods disappear from the earth; they will fall down before idols just the same". (Dostoevsky)

In my life, church never dealt with the mystery of Christ, and the contrary, or paradox nature of his relation to humanity. I resented it, I thought I would be better off experiencing my life else where. Faith is worth nothing if it is never challenged with the truth and tragedy, euphoria and intoxication of living. Kierkegaard talked about the idea of a continual becoming in regards to development and growth, in finding out who you are. He talks about fear and trembling, unease, unrest and torment in the process of becoming. And I identify with it. My bitterness or cynicism doesn't come from a dark unexplained place, it comes from what I feel to be the obvious display of human arrogance and folly. It comes from living in such an absurd world. I do not have to travel far or read much to see it, I can simply start by looking in a mirror. Christianity is not an exclusive social club, but that's what the church has made it. I do not like to go to church, I do not like displays of public worship, they make me uncomfortable. I don't know what to make of it all, but I do not fear my reactions or my mind, or my heart. I do not fear my reason, nor do I rely on it. I am well aware that I am learning, therefore this post should not be taken as a self-righteous sermon, it should be read as an explanation and attempt at a justification of myself, that I love to explore. It's challenging, and my disposition is not unique, but I do feel it is valuable and honest. I do not claim to be agnostic, I do not call on my own rational to explain away the mysteries of Christ, I will not proclaim anything, because to me that is a display of certainty, and I am obviously not certain of anything. But there are things that I can't deny or shrug off. I am a cynic, I think we should all be. It does not eradicate joyful emotions, or appreciation, or wonderment, or love. It magnifies it, because to experience beauty while being aware of what surrounds it, to experience beauty while being aware of where it was born from, where it was created from..what motivated it , what it means, what it translates...that is an experience that will provide that peace of mind for a split second, and I savor it, and I always remember that it's there, underneath all of the mess we have all accumulated. The fact that beauty still exists at all is a testament to miracle, considering we've done all we can to rid our planet of anything sacred or real, anything that is valuable to the soul and heart is quickly marginalized and sold. I'm exhausted...maybe there will be part 3? Surely there is more to myself than a little bit of griping. Perhaps I'll talk about what I love next....turn the tables a bit.

archeological dig--Part 1

my mom used to come home from work still warm from the heat of the car on the ride home. her perfume would be dilluted from a day's work, wearing off and being over taken by the stale scent of a public school building, mixed with all of those horrible unfamiliar cheap scents that other alien woman would pour all over their necks and wrists. I still feel most at home in florida, almost anywhere in Florida. The house I grew up in has slowly become less cluttered and more focused since I left, it has become my parents home. God bless them for putting up with me, I had a lot of amplifiers and guitar cases that would mark and scuff the walls on the way up and down the stairs, my mom hated it, and she would always threaten to make me paint the walls before I moved out, which I never did. I would have these band practices down in my room that went until nine or ten pm. I couldn't imagine how irritable that probably made her. all the walls would shake, and the feedback that was constant because of the close proximity of all the amps. We were all young, so the name of the game wasn't to make some cohesive uniform sound as much as it was to be loud. Either way, it was obnoxious and sweaty. Maybe some small corner of her heart still misses it, maybe not. On most days you'll find me in a fairly pleasant mood in Florida, wasting hours. When almost every city holds 1,000 memories..all of these experiences that have played a major roll in my architecture, they all leap out of the scenery. From front porches and college bars and pretentious know-nothings in Gainesville, to DIY records, naive ambition, pure love, and sibling support in Orlando, to dainty, story book southern,creative types, cold springs and houses about to collapse from character (not only from the antiquated style of home, but from those living in its guts) in Tallahassee. I can't go on cause I'll lose focus. A while ago in some old journal, I started an archeological dig into my past. Looking for integral artifacts and events that made the culture of myself what it is today. Most of it is probably obvious, but my development centers on music and its recurring liberation, the continuing reconciliation, or resignation to politics and/or spirituality, and unfortunately, all three affect each other in strange unpredictable, compounding and confusing ways. It seems like everything flows into some Nile river of human nature. I think it all started with a punk band called Propagandhi. I bought their album, "How To Clean Everything" on cassette after hearing a song called, "...and we thought nation states were a bad idea". I had to hide it from my parents. The band immediately made me uneasy, interested, and energized all at once. It's funny to think about my reaction to this band, me (at the time) being an upper-middle class, southern baptist white boy. I was hip to MxPx and Ghoti Hook, but what church kid wasnt? After getting rather used to empty rebellion, dull witted humor and love songs, I was thrown into a song like this :-)

"Publicly subsidized! Privately profitable!" That's the anthem of the upper-tier (the puppeteer untouchable). We focus a moment, nod in approval and bury our head back in the bar-codes of these neo-colonials while our former nemesis (ah, the romance!): the nation-state, now plays fund-raiser for a new brand of power-concentrate. Try again, but now we're confused- what is "class-war"? Is this class war? Yes, this is class war. And I'm just a kid- I can't believe that I gotta worry about this kind of shit!

What a stupid world! Yeah, this is just beautiful... absolutely no regard for principle. What a stupid world. (We're): 1) born 2) hired 3) disposed! Where that job lands, everybody knows and you can tell by the smile on the CEO's that the environmental restraints are about to go. You can bet that laws will be set to ensure the benefit of unrestricted labor-laws (all kept in place by displaced government death squads). They own us. They produce us. They consume us. Can you fucking believe this? What a stupid world. Fuck this bullshit display of class-loyalties. The media and "our" leaders wrap it all up in a flag- their fucking shit-rag. hooray! "

It was all refreshing, a new breed of passion and honesty. Woohoo!

My mind keeps traversing over so many topics that are worth thinking about or mentioning when thinking about my development. I think it's an obvious thing when teenagers identify with "punk rock" or whatever, it's romantic, a lot of fun, and it does connect with a certain part of adolescence, but the annoying thing is when there is never any growth or evolution from the romantic to the real. I was never comfortable with anything that existed in the middle. Of course in high school, that is not too far reaching. So much of a young persons existence is defined by an either/or way of thinking. I think that when the colors bleed together, you become invisible, you lost identity and I hated the idea of that then as much as I do now. So music provided this identity, and punk provided a community. It was never about directionless rebellion to me, my parents were great. They were reasonable people, I never had any reason to be contrary, or difficult, I was always very passive. Nothing about my life was hard, but my friends and my admirations and ambitions still found themselves most vivid in punk rock circles, although I didn't have much to relate to until I found out that there were bands that offered rebellion, or alternative thinking out of passion and research, not boredom. Once I found out that I could get book recommendations from socially conscious punk bands, I was hooked. And as much as I think punk is, a lot of times, silly, I swear it's responsible for over half of who I am now. So it was this great sky busting epiphany. All of a sudden I was finding out about cornerstones of american history through music, not text books. I read Howard Zinn and Noam Chomsky today because I was made aware from listening to a cassette tape, not from my parents, my preacher, my friends or my teachers. It was interesting to read about the labor struggles (Ludlow Massacre), central american puppet governments of the 80's, COINTEL PRO, economic self interest, global reputation and practice, hypocrisy, and the G-8! I loved that after reading "The Jungle", I realized that it was a book about socialism, as much as it was about the meat packing industry. I love that I learned about anarchy from people like Emma Goldman, not bands like Total Chaos. So what now? Rebellion all of a sudden had a direction, a purpose to learn and figure out things on my own. Everything branched out so quickly...all of those "cornerstones in American history" i just mentioned were merely the tip of the ice berg, you can find that out so easily just by asking general questions and researching for 5 minutes on the internet. From then on I started working myself out. I was exposed to something honest and objective, where my feelings or opinions weren't of consequence when figuring it out. Needless to say, this opened up fruitful, albeit typical and continual, half-assed, suburban rebellion, a self-exploratory journey that left little time for anything else. This wonderful and frustrating thing happened where one book would point to five others. Everything kept unfolding, and reaching out in every direction. Propagandhi led to Chomsky, who led to Zinn, who led to Machiavelli, who led to Nietzsce, who led to Russel, who led to CS Lewis. Emerson and Thoreau to Ayn Rand. Vonnegut, Kierkegaard, Orwell, etc. The curse of learning is that you are never satisfied, nor do you have the time to delve into every region you wish to. Once I went deeper into political history and social unrest, the closer you get to the question of human nature and that leads you into the metaphysical and the frustrating crop circles of philosophy. This is all leading somewhere, I promise, I hope.

home

We just got home. I slept the whole way home. I always forget about certain things that are in my room when I'm gone for so long. This time, the highlight was the new set of bed sheets that I was given, I saw them and immediately smiled. I saw a whole lot of mail on the kitchen table, most of which I throw away. I hate opening up my computer and having a lot of emails, i always think there will be bad news, it's the same thing with "snail mail"...all of these Bank of America envelopes..ugh. At the show today, I was exhausted. One of my amps stopped working yesterday, and so today, I had to change my approach to playing show, I had to be a lot more cognizant, which made me feeling boring. I kept doing the same thing, walking back to the drum riser, then back to my pedal board. I felt silly on stage, like all of my mistakes were very audible. There were a lot of beach balls floating around, bouncing off of heads. I kept seeing dogs pulling people around on skateboards, and I would see people singing a long and having fun, and I also saw people walking away during our set. My head kept spinning the same thought..."one more time, one more time then we're done." So now we're done, and the last 5 weeks definitely happened, I have the pictures to prove it, but it was someone else who lived it, I just sat there and watched, analyzed, and made irrational judgements about what was going on, and why. I finished a book, I think I did...hmm, no I take that back...I got through some short stories. My life is strange, and I'm a boring person, silly even. In North Carolina, a few of us were back stage having a conversation about music, and I was running my mouth about certain bands and their similarities. I think I became needless in the specifics and I became aware that I would probably think I was lame if I watched myself go on these rants. I have this muted desire to have a life like the characters in High Fidelity. I feel like everyone was probably rolling their eyes in their head and waiting patiently for me to shut up. I'm afraid that I have a lot of personality characteristics I would find annoying in someone else. Denial freaks me out. Being home is nice, I'm getting tired fast.

bore her to death

"I promise I will love you. I'll forget myself. I'll love you with the weight of a winter. I'll become your bones, your skin and your beating heart. I'll love you until I am invisible, I'll drive you to rebel out of a complacency that was born out of a satisfaction that has left you with no vigrous emotion, nothing to smile over, and nothing to fight over. You'll rebel because you'll become accustomed to a rote existence, and what can I do? I don't quite understand. I can't do anything, isn't this what we all want? Maybe I'm just the wrong man to love you. Maybe you just woke up from a bed I put you to sleep in long ago. Back then, the our house was on fire with our own fury and lust, and we decided to call it love. At some point, I think it was during our years of prosperity, free time and promotions, parties and empty walls...I think you fell asleep and decided to dream I'm so sorry to have awoken you. From the bottom of my heart. Although, I gave my heart to you long ago, one night when you were drunk and reminding me how silly I was to think something like this, between two people like you and me, could ever be sacred. Can you blame us? There is nothing sacred."

the air is getting thicker, that nice southern air

this jets to brazil song is called "wishlist"...i love it. Hey T, see the italicized quote? You're good at that, thank you :-)

Mom and dad can't remember if I told you
how glad I am I finally got to know you.
Years from when we met, after I left home.
Let me sing you sweet and distant fictions.
On lonely nights you will lay and listen.
If you don't like it, wait until I fix it.
Then morning comes and cops invade my conscience.
I run around the house. A heated atom.
Can't foresee the outcome but you can learn to one side.
If ever I should seem to take for gradated
this lovely life that I have been handed,
darling don't just stand there, come knock me around.
'Cause I know, I can write my way out of this black hole.
Back to all the things that I miss.
Sometimes, I wonder if I even exist.
Add another line to my wish list.
The overview is not the same as going through the present joy
and all it took to come to this,
to know the ending would be pretending.
They took my words and wrote them off as passing.
It pissed me off enough to keep m writing.
Go make your living boy.
I'll go on fighting.
'Cause I know, I can write my way out of this black hole.
Back to all the things that I miss.
You stay digging at your own little ditch.
That's just another thing on my wish list.
If I should slide over and under,
you know I just might stay 'till I get it right.
Some people say I'm corny or I'm morbid.
I always thought I was touching, I was tragic.
One man's magic is another's plastic.
Well, which one is it?
Am I sweetness? Am I sickness?
If I say both, you will say I lack commitment.
Of course you're right. Of course I'm right.
But I know I can write my way out of this black hole.
Back to all the things that I miss.
Sometimes I don't even know you exist.
That's just another thing on my wish list.

Summer is next

this is an elvis costello song i love...it's always good to see things from different perspectives.


The sun struggles up another beautiful day
And I felt glad in my own suspicious way
Despite the contradiction and confusion
Felt tragic without reason
Theres malice and theres magic in every season

From the foaming breakers of the poisonous surf
The other side of summer
To the burning forests in the hills of astroturf
The other side of summer

The automatic gates close up between the shanties and the palace
The blowtorch amusements, the voodoo chalice
The pale pathetic promises that everybody swallows
A teenage girl is crying cos she dont look like a million dollars
So help her if you can
cos she dont seem to have the attention span

Was it a millionaire who said imagine no possessions?
A poor little schoolboy who said we dont need no lessons?
The rabid rebel dogs ransack the shampoo shop
The pop princess is downtown shooting up
And if that goddess if fit for burning
The sun will struggle up the world will still keep turning

Madman standing by the side of the road saying
Look at my eyes, look at my eyes, look at my eyes, look at my eyes
Now you cant afford to fake all the drugs your parents used to take
Because of their mistakes youd better be wide awake

The mightiest rose
The absence of perfume
The casual killers
The military curfew
The cardboard city
An unwanted birthday
The other side of summer

The dancing was desperate, the music was worse
They bury your dreams and dig up the worthless
Goodnight
God bless
And kiss goodbye to the earth
The other side of summer

hey! no name calling sister.

this might be sort of lazy, but for the next few days i'm just going to post songs that i love lyrically. i feel lame having others describing certain aspects of my personality in song...i mean, i could very easily do it myself. but seeing that there are so many great songs out there, and all of my posts currently will probably just be me griping about A:: lack of love (and i'm not talking about a person) B: the absurdity of living C:: stagnate ponds in summer heat D:: so on and so forth.

so here's the first one----

Well, you're my friend
And can you see
Many times we've been out drinking
Many times we've shared our thoughts
But did you ever, ever notice, the kind of thoughts I got
Well you know I have a love, for everyone I know
And you know I have a drive, to live I won't let go
But can you see this opposition, comes rising up sometimes
That is dread full imposition, comes blacking in my mind


And then I see a darkness
And then I see a darkness
And then I see a darkness
And then I see a darkness
Did you know how much I love you
There's a hope that somehow you
Can save me from this darkness


Well I hope that someday buddy
We'll have peace in our lives
Together or apart
Alone or with our wives
And we can stop our whoring
And pull the smiles inside
And light it up forever
And never go to sleep
My best unbeaten brother
This isn't all I see


Oh no, I see a darkness
Oh no, I see a darkness
Oh no, I see a darkness
Oh no, I see a darkness
Did you know how much I love you
There's a hope that somehow you
You'll save me from this darkness

this is a bonnie "prince" billy song. listen to it.

this is all so portland

Portland is normally a thought of as a proper noun, but i'm going to start using it as an adjective. Driving into that city is like walking into a sauna...you can feel it immediately. There is such a deep rooted vibe in that city...there are some great cities that are still surviving on the blood that flows under the streets, but I feel like the Portland's heart is right beneath the surface, so close, that is why the streets are so bad and there are cracks in the sidewalk and all that. The word "Portland" is very visceral to me now because of my experiences in the city. It's always looking like a house with fresh paint...pure scents and clean wet corners. I like it there. I saw some young people protesting the war in Iraq, probably because their parents said it was a good thing to do. Pre-pubescent/adolescent rebellion...it's promising, amusing and sad all at the same time. When I was their age I was riding my bike to Baits food market in downtown Mt. Dora. The only signs I was holding was for car washes to finance little league...that's not quite the same as holding signs to end the war in Iraq. What are they showing on Nickolodean these days?

i wanna be an intellectual for halloween

I've found myself drowning in religious discourse the past few days, and I'm sorry to report that I did not stumble upon the answers. the first conversation centered around what could be thought of a rational application of "christian" living, and the next conversation centered around the silly and tragic way people will admit to existence of a general and vague god, but are unwilling to attach that god to any dogma or translate that god into something worth reacting to They will not give their god any identity. It's Los Angeles spirituality. The recognition of a deity is an exercise in self righteousness. They are merely shining the light on their knowledge of the arts (trash), high culture (expensive charity benefits) and spiritual enlightenment (madonna's kabala). Belief in god goes as far as their schedule and lifestyle allows them too. Although, there is an irony (and hypocritical tinge) in that statement being that it comes from me. I fear synagogue's because I'm growing afraid to admit that there are people whose devotion becomes them. It's easy to pick out the flaws, and it's good for ratings and rants. Finding fault in Christianity gives me breathing room, and I do not deny that there is an honest approach in my constant scrutiny, and I'm sure there is also some comfort in the turbulence. I don't care to really debate superfluous points of religion, christianity, the meaning of text, etc. for a lot of reasons. It usually becomes a show of ego, nothing is resolved, emotions take place of logic and respect, and because I have nothing more than a sandbox to speak from. So, perhaps I'm wallowing in doubt and cynicism to avoid moving forward in a certain direction, or maybe if I do move in any direction at this point, it would just be me not being honest with myself. It could be a combination of both, anything is possible. I'm laughing to myself, do you see what's happening here? The same thing that happens everyday. I'm dancing back and fourth, a bible in one hand and post-modern thought in the other. i need to apply myself to something, I need to quit skimming the surface merely for conversations sake. I read just enough to memorize quotes and then I go to bed like I learned something. I'm not learning anything, I'm dancing badly in a library hoping that the smell of old books will rub off on me.