November 23, 2012

I Don't Like Writing Poetry

Lord, help me to change always, for perfection is a long way off;
Bring me every day nearer to you, for my walk is yet long.

My heart follows after the lies of the devil;
and my mind deceives my heart with foolish lies.

My heart runs after riches and glory and all good things, Lord;
but for you my feet do not amble.

I feel the need for goods and love and praise, but do not see your glory as my own. I eat my food and wake my days and sleep my nights, but I do not see you! I am bent over as an old man, Lord, and my heart is of too many minds to survive! Unite my loves for you, and use my heart for your glory.

Your miserable wretch,


November 19, 2012

I hate mail

And let me tell you why.

Ok, so here's how it starts. A woodsman of some sort in some wood in some far away place looks upon a tree and sets about cutting it down. Soon, it's sent down a river, or carried on a truck, for thousands of miles. This tree then finds its way to a factory where it is cut into pieces of some sort or another, mulched, and then combined with water to make pulp. After that, by a process of compression and more compression, it becomes paper. This paper is rolled or cut and sent all over the world. This paper gets made into an envelope, and that piece of paper gets made into a 8.5 by 11 sheet of everyday, ordinary paper. On this paper is put a message, meant to mean something. A postage stamp is put on the envelope and it is driven or flown more thousands of miles and walked up to my doorstep.

Then, unceremoniously, without care or wonder, the envelope is torn open, the letter is scanned without care and, and this is the part that I hate, it is discarded and forgotten.

Why do I hate mail, then, do you ask? Put yourself in the letter's shoes. Would you like to be sent from an organization in the knowledge that it could very well end up in a landfill? What cause is so important that paper should be discarded like that?

I hate my brain.


November 07, 2012


In a surprising culmination of an absurd quantity of opinions expressed in similarly absurd proximity, our current President, Barack Obama, was asked by the convoluted, but age-old process of "filling in the oval completely and darkly," to become our future president as well. A president of past, present, and future?

Wanton sensationalism seemed lacking, so we consulted the ever-vigilant Mr. Bertilson.

"I've got to say, I didn't see it coming. I mean, I did, but it took me fifteen hours as an election judge to think, 'Oh, snap, we're deader than peat moss in outer space!'"

Wanton sensationalism still seemed absent, so security was sent to the back yard, the roof, and the smelly inside of your sofa, davenport, and couch.

"I'd just like to say all of you out there wondering if the world really will end this December, or if America is a minimum of six inches under already, with good prospect of going significantly more distance under, or if you feel that this election is an example of why Canada isn't such a bad idea, remember this one thing! In our darkest hour, when all seemed lost (and was, actually), we were never choosing between a black man and a white man, or a Republican and a Democrat, or a President and a former Governer; rather, we were chosing between a lawyer...and a pastor."

Wanton sensationalism was found later today with multiple stab wounds and half a dozen misplaced concussions...and mutilated beyond belief...and exploded all over...Facebook.


Idols, Homosexuality, and Other Stuff My Mind Cares Far Too Much About

Yeah, like that's gonna happen.

The previous statement is neither a comment on the current political atmosphere, nor a tortilla asking for salsa during, well, a salsa.

Y'see, I put undue hope in the power of the elections. Mitt Romney! Woo hoo! He's Christianish, pro-Life, and most likely headed back to whichever house he prefers to lick his wounds at. Sure, it's not a sure thing at this point, but if Romney wins Ohio and another electorally significant state such that he wins the electoral college...well, I'll go bald 'til the apocalypse blows over.

You can quote me on that.

But on to the point of this post, which, a lot like an actual pin, is simply an assembly of atoms socially awkward enough to shove all of the atoms in your thumb out of the way just by getting near.


But to the point, no matter how awkward and stupid. Let's see.

Ok, so I want a camera. I want a relationship. Yeah, everyone knows that, and most likely everyone also knows it's not a healthy relationship, desire, hope.

But...honestly, I've never tried. It's not to say I don't realize it won't work, it's just that I haven't had that apparently mandatory process of realizing, oh, right, you're too small for the hole in my heart, so you literally, metaphorically fell through.

I mean, I might say cameras haven't exactly elevated me to my hopeful and dreaming estate of perfection, comfort, and whimsical carelessness. But it's not like I've ever really hated to be "with" cameras, so to speak. Is it an idolatry? I would hesitantly say no, but I'm as liable to trust myself in this sort of thing as an iguana is to become a ninja, however blissful the thought. and Cameras...we can stay together, right?

Heck, how should I know. You're talking to yourself, noob.

It's a literary device! A crude one, and probably ineffective, but spoons never stopped me from avoiding tomatoes, did they?

But what of undue hopes? Idols and stuff and such. It's all well and good in life until you decide you can't live without running with scissors. I mean, if that happens to be your thing.

Odd though it be, I think I discovered an excellent hangman word. Ok, continuing...

But a girl! A girl! Is it so wrong or stupid or even evil that I should be a Pandora's box of wonder and glory all for God, but that some girl should have the key?

Man, I'm stupid.

How could that be? Why should that be?

I guess it should be obvious to me, with absolute certainty, that not only do I make an idol of a relationship, but also I've sort of never not done so.

It struck me sometime in the last month that saying homosexuals are born homosexual is a bit like saying tomatoes grow. Well, perhaps my stash of analogies has completely depleted, but my point is this.

The first point of Calvinism is total depravity; the idea that, from our first moments, from the beginning of our lives to the end thereof, in every facet of our being, without exception, we are permeated by evil. (while, at the same time, not being total evil, as Satan is)

So my point? I was born with lust, greed, arrogance, folly through knowledge (oooh, juxty, nice to see you!), and who knows what else. Laziness! I know of a specific example of this, from early on! I was a mere toddslerville in the House of Bertil, and one day Mommy chose that we should start cleaning up. (I know! Why?! Just why?!)

And...I proceeded to calmly, silently walk up to my bed, declaring without hesitation or qualm, upon inquiry, that I had suddenly become sick, and could not participate in the cleaning, however delightful the prospect of sweeping, vacuuming, or organizing. It was a hard choice, my life or cleanliness. What would I choose? Solemnly, with much sadness in my heart, I proceeded up the stairs to obtain rest from the horrifying slings and arrows of a sad three-year-old's existence. It was a hard day for this Noah Bertilson.

That said, I think you might get my point. Maybe. Y'see, everyone's born with their specific moral challenges.

"This is different!" You say.

So you're saying me struggling sexually is...normal? Acceptable? Ordinary?

Oh, that's very nice.

My point is that, under a Calvinistic understanding of sin, DUH, we're born with a propensity to homosexuality if we grow at any point in our lives to struggle with it. It's the same as any other sin in its ability to tempt, challenge, and crush us, but in the same manner, it is as easily crushed and utterly destroyed given faith in Jesus and the grace he gives you.


So what? I talked. Deal with it.

Ever temporal,


October 19, 2012

When God Wants You to Get More Stuff

Ok, so, some point in the near future, I might get a camera. Ideally, this camera would both open up all sorts of options for creativity in the future, as WELL as provide me with some source of income, whether sporadic or constant, significant or pitiful...

But I don't know. Am I really cut out for taking pictures the rest of my life? Sure, I probably will end up doing something else here or there, and I'll be taking pictures the rest of my life non-professionally all the time...'cause that's part of my life.

But this is different than that. Right now, I sort of have about enough money to buy myself...half the camera. And that's spreading the butter thin. My parents have tentatively offered to pay the other much of this is because I'm not in college right now, and probably won't do much more than a community college even if I do end up going...that I don't know. However, they've offered.

What should I do? It isn't exactly a question I feel qualified to outright answer myself, but at the same time, it seems like I don't have a better option. Right now, I'm unemployed, without motivation or activity to fill my day. Were I on the ball, getting up earlier, and caring if tomorrow was full or empty, I'd probably be practicing Taekwondo three times a week. I mean, I'm not earning any money right now, I'm not doing anything useful with my life, I should at least be benefiting from my parents' generosity.

But, the question at hand. Heck, sorry, but I'm going to go on something of a side-issue or tangent now.

Is it possible or right that a person can find meaning, purpose, LIFE simply by getting something, knowing someone, having a new person in their life?

Anyone who knows me knows exactly what I'm talking about...but now that I say it out loud (...not exactly...), it doesn't sound very true, logical, or good. God's my purpose, he made me, and he gave me life. GIVES me life. What then? Am I supposed to simply go on with life dreaming and hoping for a better life that I'll only deny myself because my hope ultimately isn't in God?

It seems to me both sides of that are now thoroughly detestable to me, so I'll move on.

So, I should be doing something with my life. And one thing I can definitely argue I should do is expand my talent and my skill. One of my greatest skills/talents is photography. It's not boasting, honestly, it's just true.

I've got a thing for writing, but she doesn't seem to reciprocate.

Acting, singing, dancing...I can remember there are a few others, but this post is exhaustive as it is.

But ultimately, the point of this post is trusting God. And I don't know if this is one of those times I'm supposed to trust God, or one of those times I'm supposed to NOT spend all my money and put all my hope in a creation.

And that's a stupidly disturbing way to put it, by the way. It's all nice and good talking about idolatry when you're not crushing on a girl, when you've pretty much got everything you want materially, but when you want something or someone, all of a sudden, that person or thing is a freaking demon of deception and...

Well, it's bad.

Oh, yeah. And then there's the fact that, in the end, at least half of this IS going to end up being my parents' money. And I'm not just miserly with my own money. Although abandoning Taekwondo for a month isn't a great habit in that respect.

But the issue at hand. Should I go and spend almost all my own money, as well as an equal amount of my parents' money, on something that really is kind of a horrible bet? Is this one of those times when my faith in God would change my life?

I guess that's a stupid question, when it's put to words.

Help my unbelief, LORD!


October 05, 2012

The God Screwdriver

Why write? Why? I mean, I feel like it doesn't do anything. It doesn't serve a purpose.

Which is probably true, in this case. It's not going to create a cure to the common cold or even make you laugh, most likely. What am I doing?

Am I good at this? Don't answer that.

I like writing, but honestly, recently, I haven't been writing either frequently OR well. More like infrequently and badly. I mean, if stream-of-consciousness is bad, I'm probably somewhere on the way down the proverbial Grand Canyon of writing.

Oooh, psychoanalyze, Noah! Get with it! Who knows what you could be thinking if you were thinking about how you're thinking?

It feels weird when I write my own name. It feels like I'm talking about someone else.

Ok, so here's the deal. How I'm thinking right now. And this is for me, so if I'm not being honest, it's me who's losing.

Ok. So besides the whole girl thing...which I don't think I need to expound on...I want a job. Honestly, right now, I feel like a guy just freaking waiting 'til he grows a beard, moves to his parents' basement and gains a couple hundred pounds.

And if that's how I feel, forget about me asking a girl out! Yikes, no. Oh, so mature, Noah! Caring for her instead of yourself! Well, yeah, but ultimately, all it gets me is a fantastic opportunity to lose responsibility, become a first-class lazy bum, and do...more of this.

Do I think too much? I think so. I dunno. Maybe the point at which you wonder if you think too much is the point at which you are thinking too much. What would I know?

But, wait! It's all for the girl! Yeah. That's true, really. I mean, I'm ashamed about this and whatnot, but for the last six months, I didn't go to church and/or Bible study first and foremost because I wanted to get closer to good friends or God himself, but rather because there was some chance Girl X would be there.

Yeah. Really. I'm like, "Yeah! She might be there, so I'll get a suit and tie, and maybe she'll be impressed despite the fact that I neither have a job nor the will to get one."

Yeah. I don't know if I want a job, really. I mean, I've been jobless for a while now...well, pretty much since I was born, really...but it's like a freaking...mind labyrinth or something! I want to get a job and stuff because of HER or whoever I actually end up loving forever and always...but I don't. Why?

'Cause I'm made to live for God, not for a human being, either myself or her.

And I know this! I know how that works! I get it! 

Now I'm going to make a stupid sappy analogy that makes a lot of stupid sense.

I like taking things apart and putting them back together, usually with a better understanding and appreciation for them afterwards as opposed to before. I guess with God I can't do that. God isn't a watch or a computer or a dryer. He's God. He can't be disassembled, categorized, understood, and reassembled! He's infinite! There's no end to how complex and wonderful and amazing he is. I appreciate the depth and intricacy of a simple desktop computer, but when it comes to God, it's too much.

I don't get God.

"So?" I ask myself. "Why do you need to?"

At this point, I stare blankly at myself. There wasn't a mirror available, so I used a CD.

"Because I don't yet understand myself."

Cue lyrics from Emma Louise. Yeah. Obscure. I'm such a hipster.

But yeah! I don't understand myself. Looking into my face, thinking about the weird and occasionally cool things I do, I don't get it. I don't get me. C-c-c-c-COMBO!

I don't get God.
I don't get me.

And, honestly, I don't understand how I don't understand myself. Or what part of myself I don't understand.


Maybe it's the God part. The Image. Imago Dei. It would make sense, I guess, but it wouldn't help things much.

I guess even in me, I can't unpack God and make him a number.

Should I be a scientist? Feels like I think more like a scientist than not...

But nooo! I think weird. I think about strange things. But...who doesn't? I guess I'm just one of the guys who hands my weird side a titanium spork instead of telling it to shut up. 

I don't get me, I don't get God.
I guess that's a problem.

How am I supposed to figure this out?


September 07, 2012

In Which I Pretend to Know a Darn Thing(s)

Hey. Let me tell you a story.


No. Actually, let me tell you a story.

Which sounds like the same thing (no, it doesn't sound like anything, unless you happen to be reading this aloud, which would be a bit like me reading food aloud without eating it! It never happens!), really, but you can see what I mean.

Now, if you ever saw a guy, you probably know he's either a weird dork, a hot stack of stacky hottitude, or a dorky weirdo. Alternatively, he can be an iguana, but that's rare, a bit like me reading food. But I digress.

A guy! Yeah, that thing. Anywho, you've probably met one, and, depending on who you are, what you've eaten for breakfast (very important), and if you've ever met a tortilla unwilling to commit suicide, you've got a deal! Wait, what?

Yeah, a deal. (sorry, alter egos just budge in wherever they want.)


YEAH BUDGE. Anyway, they budge in. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh, right! Dudes! Guys! Fellas! Lads! Corking chaps! Fab footrests! I have no idea where that came from!

Guys! You know the type! Typically short-haired, two-legged and armed, not with arms, but arms, goshdarnitall! Bros! Pork chops!

Yeah, so dudes.

I'm kinda rambling here. But I'm getting there, I promise!

So guys. Yeah. We're everywhere! We're in your houses! Stealing your coasters up! 'Cause everyone knows there's no better way to...well, coast. Or be a coast. Coasters are pretty powerful toast, if you get down to the etchy-sketchy of it. They've got all the beverages! Your shakes ain't got nothin' on the fluids these babies hold on a daily basis without parental (or other) consent! Vodka? GOT IT! Chocolate milk? THEY"VE GOT YOU COVERED! WATER? DON"T MAKE ME LAUGH!

Wow, I got distracted there.

Ok, guys! Yeah! Guys! Ever met one? They can be weird, odd, strange, or even BAD! A lot like *quick Wikipedia abbreviation check* that one Russian armored car thing! Yeah! Dangerous, liable to drive right over you, tires and all! It's like it almost doesn't care, or has a chip on its shoulder! Actually, the BAD-2 doesn't really have a shoulder. Maybe it'll be in the movie. OR THE INTERSTATE HIGHWAY VERSION! *WINK*

So it's been a while since I wrote. Well, not really. But I mean wrote! Like the Ejyptians seemed to do so much. Y'know, with those guys just freaking out with their hands and stuff. I haven't really looked at much Ejyptian art, but GOSH TAHT DOES NOT LOOK LIKE EGYPTIAN.





See, I don't write like this often! Just rambling, caring not, and twisting the proverbial fabric of life to squeeze all the slightly more understandable now that I've introduced an analogy drops of life. Gosh, run-on sentences. Self-commentary for the win! OH GOSH NOAH DON"T DO THAT!


Wow, I feel like a dork. That's pretty

*sobs into hanky*

I FOUND MYSELF! Oh, wait, I'm just sitting here. Can't have just found myself. That's unlikely.

Well. Anyway. It seems the stuff is happening in the place that's around me. OH OH OH! I'm getting a thing in the mail! I'm being ambiguous because if I outright told you, you'd just 1. Not understand. 2. Shake your head, trying to get the techno-jargon out one or the other of your ears, and 3. Proceed to either (stupid) GO AWAY or (SMART) STAY.

Wo, I'm being all kinds of freakish imposing and stuff.

Y'know, I really like it when she likes to see me. Sorry if I sprung that on you like a slinky on a sloth, but the perennial conversation of my life is whatever grill I happen to be obsessing about at the time, and what the heck just happened. Yeah. I just misspelled girl egregiously. And spelled egregiously right, without using a dictionary, Google, OR spell check! How's that? How 'bout them apples? (apparently spellcheck doesn't think spellcheck is correct. On the other hand, spell check, in fact, IS.)

Yeah, this is probably the longest post I've written this year. DON"T QUOTE ME ON THAT!

"Yeah, this is probably the longest post I've written this year." -- Noah



Well, people. The thing in the mail? It'll help things. Maybe! I mean, there's another thing that might help as well, but, gosh, this might cook the beans! Or the...IRON ORE.

OR WHAT, YOU SAY? This post is not yet available in podcast format, so you couldn't possibly have mistaken ore for or. Gotcha?

Well, I did, so that's how that happened.

But you know this girl? OH! RIGHT. I think she likes me. It's weird, 'cause she kinda sorta...

1. Kissed another guy.
2. Took a picture while doing so.
3. Posted said picture on Facebook.


Sorry. Had to get that off my chest. OF GOLD!

Well, actually, while gold is pretty palpable, it would probably make for a pretty sweet six-pack. No fat on the top, either.


In another five decades, they'll somehow synthetically create gold and offer Gold-Chestification for exorbitant prices.

So, yeah. That's how I started licking rocks.

Oh, wait. Did I skip the part about being raised by deer? Or deers? I think there were enough of them to warrant a grammatically-incorrect plural.


On a side note, completely unrelated, and, might I say...

Ok, I won't.


September 03, 2012

A Gore-Enjoying Antilogical Moron

Suddenly I know how to talk to everyone but the person I most love to talk to.

It's horrible of me to keep going back to this. It's in almost every possible way a dead dream...I mean, she's not engaged or anything, but still.

I am a blockhead. It's probably not exactly my fault that I'm where I am. Not entirely. Not in the ways I most care about, I mean. I guess I can't really describe it.

It's weird. When I'm with people besides my family, I don't talk much, and I feel like I'm not doing my share of the conversatin'. Then again, when I do start talking, to some degree, I can't stop. I haven't gotten much of a chance in a while, really. I haven't gotten a backscratch recently, either. That's important.

Hoppipolla. There's actually an accenty-thing over the I, but besides that, the name's right.

Sigur Ros. Accenty-thing over the O in that one, as well.

It's really beautiful stuff, but we were talking so fast that when she first told me about them, I didn't even realize what she was saying.

Or is that what we had is gone, and all that was gained through it?

No, I'm different, better because of her. Dang it.

I wish I could tell her, but honestly, my heart is far too confusing a place to just say something like that.

Honestly, I just want to talk to her again. But she's living her life, loving her friends...her boyfriend, and I'm here, wishing I was some small part of that mosaic.

I feel like something went wrong, that, somehow, her life going in a different direction than mine can't be everything. I wish I could go and tell her how I feel, how I wish things could be, and make that happen, like in the movies, but I don't think the girl would appreciate that.

I overthink. I guess I should ask her out.

Except now I'm talking about a different girl.


Ice Cube Tray Logic

I seriously need a do not disturb sign for my computer.


Because I feel like it. A lot. Maybe not much of the time, but when I feel like hanging a do not disturb sign somewhere nearby, I REALLY feel like doing it.

It's not you, it's me.

Well, that's comforting. To no one.

I once asked how to spell no one, because I thought it ought to be one word.


I may have met a girl once by that surname.

More likely it was spelled Noon, but that's beside the point.

So over the last few weeks, I've been trying to figure something out. Namely, who it is who leaves the ice cube tray with either zero cubes, one cube, or just a bunch of broken fragments in it.

Most of the time, I say to myself, Take it, Noah, it's not like you can change them. It's not like it would be profitable to call the family together, ask who does it, and squash that proverbial bug, but I still want to.

What happens a lot is that I say, hey, I'll take two cubes and leave two, and someone else will empty it.

And then I keep thinking, "Karma, Noah, karma."

Because they're always still there.

I tried another method. Simply empty the trays and leave them there.

That didn't work very well either. After a couple days of that, I ended up refilling the trays today myself.

It's stupid that I should ever have to think that I'm the only one who does anything, but I'm guessing it's not just me. Are we all wrong, are we all right, and does it even matter?

I found out within the last couple days that my computer has several flaws. First, two of my four memory slots are nonfunctional. Inserting memory into them results in a total freeze (can't even muster a BSOD) and necessitates a reboot.

Life is so complicated.

Last night I thought I'd start a how-to channel on Youtube, and today I realize that the microphone I purchased mere days ago, combined with the positively awful Realtek audio, doesn't record at normal volume levels unless I amp it up 30 decibels. The alternative is to use one of the dozen or so USB headsets Daddy got a few days ago for a buck apiece, but the audio quality should be much worse.

The electric griddle is flakey.

Daddy turned the proxy back on for our network.

The effect of this is to make a number of things impossible. Some of them are necessary or worthwhile, but most of what it stops is us kids doing fun and useful things. I hate it.

Because of this, I use a neighbor's internet connection to do this. It's faster, most of the time, but it's fickle. People can join it at will, and that probably means a few dozen people are using it most of the time.

I'm not complaining. Not about the internet connection, I mean.

And despite the fact that I don't have enough money to rub Franklin's two cheeks together, I'm spending and thinking about spending all day long.

Everything seems so pointless. Resistance especially. I wanted to DO something with my life, but at every turn it, seems like either I don't have the motivation, or a nuke-proof brick wall is in my way.

And the girl? She kissed another guy months ago. So what? That's what I keep asking, but what possible reason would she kiss him if she not only loved him, but also wanted to...

The possibility has been suggested to me that she's "just that kind of girl." That she'd "play the field," so to speak.

It hadn't really occurred to me before, actually, but it doesn't come as a surprise, somehow.

I just hope she doesn't try to play on my corner of the field.


August 22, 2012

I Love...

I love the sound of the ocean and the sight of it too, at night. The waves look like they're glowing. I believe they are.

I love music. Not classical so much anymore. Much alternative. Indie. Yep.

I love talking to an interesting person, especially a girl. I don't really know why, but we're not the same, so I'm guessing that's part of it.

I love the feeling of a Q-tip in my ear, but sometimes it makes my throat tickle. Not altogether horrible, but perplexical nonetheless.

I love taking apart my computer and seeing what's inside. Sometimes I like to take it apart, sometimes I clean it. Sometimes I just grin.

I love to clean. Not always, but I get in moods. I do dishes then, clean sometimes, reorganize. Then are the times when I wish I knew all the songs I would ever love, but I'm guessing I'd get tired of all of them right away then, instead of sequentially.

I LOVE GIRLS IN MILITARY UNIFORM. With that gigantic backpack on their back. That's some serious womanliness. Grace, maybe. Not sure, but it freaks me seriously.

I love to dance. Not swing or ballroom or line or anything specific. I just like to move my body and feel the music, cliche though that may sound.

I love taking pictures. I don't really know why. I take some satisfaction from the result, but it's minuscule compared to the pleasure of composing the shot, holding my breath, gripping the camera, and hitting the shutter. I don't get it.

I love to make people laugh. Of course it makes them laugh and me feel good about it, but it makes me laugh when others laugh and I understand why. Complicated, I guess, but I love laughing, and don't like laughing alone. Not usually, anyway.

I love the feel of my muscles aching because I've made them pay the rent, so to speak. It shakes off the false shroud of impotency.

I love to run. To feel the ground, dirty though it may be, under my feet as I try harder and harder to eat the wind.

I love it when water gets in a photo and decides to mess things up a bit. In a good way.

I love it when I know God's there.

I love breakfast. A good, cold, tall, fresh-squeezed glass of orange juice. Some good bacon, some concoction of eggs and other awesome ingredients.

I love a book that you can't see coming, and that you miss when it leaves.

I love snow. It's beautiful, bright, and occasionally combat-ready.

I love it when friends stay.

I LOVE A GOOD BACKSCRATCH. Haven't had a serious, good one in years...


July 09, 2012

I Want to DO Something

I want to do something. I really do! But I don't. But why?

Hmm. Well, I want to start a Youtube channel and just talk about everything. Hopefully to some happifying effect.

But what would I talk about?

And there's my camera. It's kinda elderly. In the sense that it's lame, senile, and a bit blind.

Well. Those words describe the extremity of the thing.

But then there's my sense of romance, which says, hey! You shouldn't record it on your freakin' digital camera in 720p! You should record it on that old tape camera you bought for ten dollars at the thrift store and left collecting dust in a closet for like five years!

Well, yeah. I guess the camera's not a good excuse. It's just that somewhere between the ideation and the execution of the idea, I end up thinking...gosh, moron, this is a STUPID idea.


Anyway. As pertains to my life, if you're still listening, care, and haven't heard already...I applied at Apple. Like three times. In person, online, and through a chap already employed there.

So, yeah. With any luck, I'll have some sort of response in a while. God could give me a job (through the fabulous people at Apple), or he could decide, heck, Noah, you don't seem to get what I'm doing yet.

Which, in all likelihood, I don't.

But that's pretty much the natural state of things. Me not knowing what's going on. For those of you who care, that's kinda why I don't talk. At least, that's part of it. I listen and observe in order to better understand the world and the people around me. not always does it work.


Oh, oh, oh. Another problem with starting a vlog-esque thing. (could have thrown in quasi somewhere in there, too. :D) Uh, yes. Well, my family. See, I live at home. There are about two times in the entire week when a sibling or parent isn't nearby or...closer.

Yep. I whine.


June 08, 2012

The Sublte, Distant Taste of Victory

Hey. It's been a while. (yeah, you've probably heard that a gagillion years before, but this is a blog. My blog. What can I do?

Anyway, today I was tempted and somehow resisted.

And by I resisted, I mean solely by God's power, without any real effort on my part, I somehow came out of hell without so much as a light tan.

That said, what exactly did I do? Did I do anything? I think this is something I'm probably going to spend a lot of time struggling with, because I don't really understand it. Maybe that's the way it is, and I never will, but I'm not the kind to give up just because it might be the right thing to do.

Ok. So when I need God...

Er, wait, let me rephrase that.

I need God.

At such times (all the time), how exactly is it that he becomes potent in my life? I mean, perhaps it's mere appearance, but at times he doesn't seem to be up to much. Yeah, I know, from a human perspective, you can't really see the whole elephant and imagine simultaneously patting the entirety of said elephant, but even so!

Is the simple act of asking for God's help the only act we can call our own?

And why the heck is this so important for me?

I think it probably goes back to the whole way God created us. With free will and all, y'know? If he created us without the freedom to love and to hate, we wouldn't truly love or hate because we'd be robots. Everything we do would be pre-done (so to speak) by God himself.

Which strikes me as really freaking weird, 'cause when we end up loving God, it's only because he did that himself to us a long, long time before we even knew the difference between cyanide and sugar.

Huh. Not trying to be heretical here or anything, but God made us with the express intention of not making us do anything while simultaneously planning ahead of time to rescue us through his power alone.

What's the difference? I guess it's love, in a weird way. Given robotic humanity, God's love would mean nothing to us, and our love would mean nothing to him, whereas if we have free will, our love does mean something to him and we understand the meaning of his love for us.

As to our asking God for help being our only true act, I don't think we can even claim that as our own, as, quite simply, God created everything. He created the desires that drive our lives, the influences that buffet us, the loves, hates, imaginings, friends, wonders...I don't really have to even list them these days. He made a ton of stuff and it all works to bring about his plan, whether we want it to or not. I'm a part of God's plan inside God's fold or out. I think it's foolish of me, but I've sometimes found it in myself to take comfort even in that.

So God created us, everything to do with us, and what's inside us, that drives us. Thus, I'd say our desire to love God is from God. But what's the difference then? Is it the dichotome (been wanting to use that word for months) of good and evil at work in us? We're neither consumed by hate of everything nor love of God and neighbor, given the angels and monsters at work in us?

Is this folly?

Hmm. I propose thus: God gave us everything we have, from the most physical the most metaphysical, and he gave it us with the express command of freaking doing something useful with it. That useful thing most prominantly being praising our Creator. We were given not just the earth to steward, but every fiber and sinew and desire and love and heartbeat of our beings as well. In other words, despite the simple fact that all things will work for the good of the elect, at the same time we have the freedom to use our love, time, and stuff for whatever we want.

I've got this theory about the Image of God, in which we were created. Of course, church doctrine doesn't have a habit of making itself anew this late in the game. I'll admit it's unlikely there's anything to what I say, but what I think is this:

God created us in his image not just to set us apart (which, now that I think about it, is pretty much saying we're holy...the meanings are similar if not identical), but more than that, as a means by which to commune with him. Perhaps this is old hat. Regardless, I think it's important. I don't really know how yet.


April 21, 2012

I've Never Ripped off a Limb Before

Let me explain. No, heck, I won't explain. You guys probably get it by now. Hopeless romantic, can't stop crushing, I could say so much more, but it should be clear if you've read half this blog. Which would be a pretty big feat, I should remind you.

So I need to change. This constant obsession with a single girl (both single in the sense of being just one person, and in the sense of being unhitched) is really getting in the way of me doing useful things, loving people, loving God.

But how? I want her!

Like, really badly.

So?  You've liked girls a lot before. You'll forget it, of course, but mere months ago, you were obsessed with this other girl. Let's call her Girl Q, just for the heck of it. She was similar in a lot of ways. She laughed! She smiled! She joked, she did interesting things, she had a few ridiculous quirks in common with you.

But what of it? My heart is elsewhere now!

So? It all changes. It all ends, even. The simple truth is that, while not taking the position of a miser of time, never waiting, never patient, always doing, always thinking, always dreaming, you similarly can't live your life with no time to do nothing, but neither can you live your life with only time to obsess, dream, hope, and be eventually crushed in dissatisfaction and folly.

But isn't this the way it's figured out? Isn't that how it's done? Trial and error?

Sure, but trial doesn't have to be blind, neither error meaningless. If you don't think about what you're trying beforehand, how can you change? Similarly, if you don't understand your error, how can you learn from it?

But when is that moment? When am I sure? How can I know? I wish I did! I've done nothing so long, for the simple reason that I knew I was ignorant!

I don't know, but since neither of us do, you might as well wait until you do. It'll be like a thousand mosquito bites all asking you to swat them, but you can do it, if you really try. Naturally, the God of the universe can help as well.

Sigh. It had to come to this at some point. Patience, like always, but also love, like never. This is going to be a rough ride.

(Garg contributed to this post.)


Absolutely Nothing

The translation being I need to do better.

(for those wondering, this is a response to Bush Maid's comment on my previous post.)

But I can't do better separate from God. Am I separate from God? No? Well, then why can't I be better? Because I don't believe? My faith is from God alone. But something must be mine! But no, nothing is mine. No action, no thought, no intention, no well-placed advice, no pride, no goodness, no honesty, no meekness, no money, no family, no badly-chosen shades, no silvery silence, no joyful noise, no happiness, no wonder, no glory, no love.


But Jesus' love! That must be mine. His actions, his thoughts, his intentions, his fabulous parables, his pride, his goodness, his honesty, his meekness, his riches, his family the church, his well-seeing eyesight, his unwavering silence, his good words, his happiness, his wonder, his glory, his love.

But is it? How can it be? In order for it to be mine, I must have something. Right? No? Then how am I different from the heathens? How have I become his, if not solely, absolutely only because of his love and choice? Am I merely blinded by the human idea of exchange? Is giving simply not human? Is it merely not something we understand, in our heart of hearts, in the deepest chasm of our being? But are we not in his image? Have we not some essence of the God we are called to love? Is that it? Do we give him what he first gave us, and in return he gives us more?

“For who has known the mind of the Lord,
or who has been his counselor?” -- Romans 11:34

"Speak to me, God, that I may have words to say! Think, that I may think as well! Dream, wonder, love, hate, imagine, work, love, LOVE, LOVE, that I may too love. I am nothing!" -- Swishkin


April 20, 2012

Do Better

So a couple nights ago, I was laying in bed, thinking about my day, what had happened over the last few weeks (rather a lot, actually), and thinking about what God's given me. I recently got a job pretty much dumpster diving and ripping apart consumer electronics in a mad search for modern-day gold...which turns out rather to be steel, brass, bronze, and copper. At the very best, there's the gold in all the circuit boards, but you can only imagine how little there actually is in them.

Still, I'm grateful.

Or am I?

For some stupid reason, I found myself thinking, "God, you could do better."

Multiple times, actually. I spent a bit of time regretting it, and then thought it again.

Eventually my heart got involved and explained to me that God couldn't do better with me.

And that naturally opened up a furious firestorm of misunderstanding in my mind.

Of course, God COULD do better, in my specific instance.

But God WOULDN'T do better for me, specifically. It's weird, trying to say God's doing something perfect in the world and still trying to say his ability isn't limited. If an artist creates a masterpiece, it can later be eclipsed by an even better work.

I guess at this point I don't really know what I'm saying. But the point is, God is good.

Also, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. It's not a sure thing yet, but I might be losing my job.

Dirtbag McSpleen. That's me.


April 02, 2012

Trip to See the Birds Day One

Brighter than the Sun just came on the radio. God is pretty crazy awesome. Breakfast is reasonably priced and should be amazingly good. We stopped at Perkins at about 10 today for coffee and cinnamon rolls, although I'm getting a hot chocolate instead.  We just left Marshall and should be on I90 as soon as noon. From there we'll go on into South Dakota. I'm not sure yet if we'll be stopping there on the way over or on the way back, but I might get to see the Badlands and the black hills again, which would be great. It struck me today that Grandpa might be where I get my quiet tendencies from. While he talks a lot more than I do at this point, I'm inclined to believe it's because he's got more to talk about than me, being more than four times my age.  He was a large-animal veterinarian and has many stories of giving birth to calves and of building roads in Alaska. On the other side of things is Grandma. She's not along on this trip, but I've always felt, since going camping with Grandpa and her earlier on in my life, that I probably got my make-do attitude from her. Now that I think about it, it doesn't really seem that apparent in her as I thought, but I guess it doesn't always show on top. I should have mentioned acouple things earlier. First, it's ridiculously cloudy and even foggy today. Second, I brought along Eat Pray Love, and it's an interesting book to read at a time like this. As for the fog, it was so foggy earlier that we could see for perhaps a thousand yards ahead and then it was just gray. We passed a number of large grain elevators barely a stone's throw from the road without seeing them until the last second. Just south of Jasper, near the SD/MN border, a couple of female deer waltzed across the road in front of us and Grandpa had to slow down in order not to hit them.  We're coming into one of my favorite parts of America, where you can see half a mile while sitting in a low-riding station wagon. Not sure what I like about it, but it seems like i just like to observe, and wide open spaces without visual obstructions of any kind really help that.  I just realized that my last crush didn't culminate in some sort of truth-telling or confrontation. At some point in me liking some girl I decide either to give up and move on or to tell all. Usually the case is the latter, and while I sort of took the easy way out (acquiring for myself a new direction for my affection), it somehow surprises me that I didn't ever actually tell said crush how things were. Inexplicable joy is the best kind.  Grandpa decided to sleep a bit as he fears he'll fall asleep while driving. Mere yards away is a 55 MPH speed limit sign. This worries me a bit, but I reminded him to turn on the hazard lights. Well, it seems grandpa wasn't having so much trouble staying awake as he was merely driving. I drove for probably an hour at about 55 MPH on a two-lane highway. Hands are still shaking a bit, but I think it helped. !Noah!

March 31, 2012

I Want to be Proud of my Heart

Ok, so, most of you probably know I'm a hopeless romantic. Or something like that. The deal is basically that I spend very few days of my life not pining after one girl or another, usually sequentially, occasionally simultaneously. Yeah, weird, I know, but that's sort of me in one word, once you really get to know me. Or it could be that other one, but that's not for me to say.

Anyway. That's kinda how I've lived all my life. I may not have been obsessing over girls at age five or eight or twelve or anything, but since probably fourteen, that's been the story.

And, honestly, it hasn't changed since then. Which I guess I sort of implied in my previous statement, but I digress.

As long as I can really remember, that's been my big deal. My greatest want, desire, hope, dream. And I think I may have found another piece of the puzzle.

To explain the vague picture I've got so far, I'll start with what I've already figured out, within a reasonable margin of certainty. Or something.

First, I really want companionship. I always have. My siblings have interchangeably been fabulous and awful, but it's not about them, it's about me. Which sounds selfish, but that's the way it is. It's not that I'm the only thing that matters, or that I don't see their problems and want them to improve, it's that I see mine a thousand times clearer.

Or so I hope.

Second, I want said companionship to be lasting. I'd like to say I want it to be infinite or eternal, but that's not possible in the way that I want. Grrr. I hate saying I want things, but I think this self-exploration is helpful. Thus, I want it to last. I want someone who'll be willing to listen to extremely long-winded moments, wherein I babble mindlessly for hours, and times when I don't feel like talking at all. And that turns out to be a lot of the time, actually. It's not that I'm regularly unhappy or reclusive, but I really like to observe and to think. Occasionally this thought is accompanied by pacing, sometimes by sitting, sometimes by stationary standing. Not always do I want to be alone, but there are times like that as well.

Third, and perhaps most potent, has been my desire for the intimacy that comes with a best friend/lover/spouse relationship. And, yeah, I don't really know what I'm talking about. I'm not married, and, besides my parents, I don't know people very well who are married. And, if you've ever had parents (perhaps not, for some), you'll understand that I could be one of the worst people to judge my parents, while simultaneously being one of the best to judge them.

So I want to get hitched, basically. I can't really remember a day when I didn't, which is sort of weird. I don't know if I've ever had the sort of young boy grossed out at married couples kissing or being together or loving each other or anything like that. But my memory is rather horrible for the far past.

I realize that not only isn't marriage the one-step fix for every problem I've got in my life, but also that it'll more likely solve few of my current problems and create for me a dozen or so more. I've found that, in life, the quick, easy fixes are the ones that aren't good in the long run.

Which, somehow or other, is no comment against marriage in general. Marriage as God intended is a fabulous, wonderful expression of God's love, both as metaphor and literally.

Now, let's get current. I was thinking about this and completely forgot what I was talking about, 'cause I wrote a dozen paragraphs nearly unrelated...gimme a second.

Oh, snort. Another point. I've always wanted a constant companion, someone who'll listen all the time, any time, who's kind, gentle, honest, patient. All the good stuff. And naturally there's Jesus. God. And I keep thinking to exactly is God supposed to be far, far, far more than enough for me, and I simultaneously desire, from the bottom of my heart (heck, from the top and sides as well) that I have a spouse, someone on this earth who's got similar qualities while still human and flawed.

I think this is the crux of my problem. I don't know how to put this deepest desire of my heart in its right place. And I've prayed, believe me. I realize that, somehow, I'm supposed to put God first in everything, especially in those things I feel most strongly about.

And, God, I feel strongly about Girl X.

(I've never been completely clear on when using God's name is in vain, and not in vain. Flaw 2.)

So what can I do? I feel like there are many easy ways out of this, and I've taken a number of them before. I've always been partial to the Tell All and Hope For the Best approach, but, honestly, it's failed me twice in the past.

And I guess there's always the problem that I feel deeply insufficient. I always compare my talents, skills, interests, and intellect to those of Girl X, but there's more to it than that, I think. That's just me feeling insecure and losing perspective like an overfilled tortilla drools salsa. That doesn't help.

But there's also the fact that I don't have more than Benjamin's two cheeks to rub together.

So. I'm insufficient, insecure, have my heart set on the wrong things, don't put God first in everything, and on top of it all, I'm still getting over that sort of shy phase. Or maybe I'm just quiet like that. I always feel like I don't speak enough, laugh enough, or answer loud enough. But that's another topic.

Ah, yes. I want to be proud of my heart.

You see, were I to alphabetize the Girls that have, whether sequentially or simultaneously, occupied my heart, I would be probably half through the alphabet by now. Which bodes horribly if I actually get to Girl X before I find the one.

You see, it's shameful to me that I'm so fickle in my desire. I want to love constantly and really and actually and truly and fully. And being an all-or-nothing kind of guy, either I didn't actually love Girls A through H (or whichever I'm currently can only imagine how I'd hate to keep track), or I don't love Girl X (X being current), because I've really felt this strongly about girls before today. I have. I've known girls better than Girl X (wayyyy better), I've been closer to girls before today. (somehow, though, I've managed to completely avoid ever actually having a girlfriend)

So I love and hope and dream and then pow, it's gone with one more beautiful face, wonderful person. Was that real? If it was, how can this be? If it wasn't, how can't this be?

And I haven't said this much. It takes a lot of time for me to figure me out, and I sorta just realize that the reason I'm ashamed about this sequence of potential partners is because I want to be proud of my heart.

I want to be proud of my heart.

And that makes sense. God made my heart, and my heart was made to constantly, absolutely, unreservedly love him. And I'm extremely bad at that.

But that brings me back to my biggest problem. Idolizing an idealized relationship rather than worshiping and serving God through everything I do.

My heart is hard.

This is going to be harder.

(I'd really appreciate prayer at this point. Thanks.)


March 13, 2012


So I be in Missouri. With a ton of awesomesauce peoples. They're currently playing a video game. Er, no, I mean card game. Heheheheh. But anyway.

I arrived a couple days ago and things have been pretty much uphill from there. I'm no recovered sinner or fixed fool or whatever, but I'm learning and changing a bit here and a bit there.

Hmmm. I felt like talking a lot more, somehow, before I went and read a few dozen pages of Dear Blank Please Blank, Taste of Awesome, and I Waste So Much Time.

Buuut, I think I can still do it. Here's the deal. Not a big deal, but a change in my understanding of the world, I guess. On the topic of hate.

Yeah. Nice way to introduce something, eh. I'm a genius that way. Regardless, it happens that I chatted rather lengthily with Chad (campus minister at the University of Minnesota). Things happened in that time that might not have happened otherwise. I postulated and spoke and conjectured and guessed, and we got somewhere.

Here are a few of the things we came up with:

First, hate isn't really absolute. That is, hate isn't a yes or no. It's not on or off, it's not yes for one thing and no for another. The current culture's view of hate can be described that way, though. Hate as Jesus uses the word isn't exactly the same. It's comparative, but so much more meaningful. When Jesus says hate (I'm specifically thinking of the instance with his mother/sister/brothers thing. You know the one. Or don't.), he means that by comparison to those he'd come to give his life for, his family could only be considered an afterthought.

It's hard to really get, I think, but it's a way of understanding it, I guess, given our rather limited knowledge and understanding of everything. Jesus helps us understand things through parables, for instance, and when he uses the word hate, I guess it could be called hyperbole. He's saying it larger than life, bigger than it really is, but, at the same time, and very importantly, absolutely truly. God never lies and if we listen to his word and separate it from our selfish, sinful understanding of the world, we will truly understand the things God wants us to, if not now, then soon, if not soon, then later.

The same really applies to love, except the opposite way. True love is absolutely unselfish. No part of true love can benefit the lover because that's what love is - self-sacrificial. Moreover, love isn't true unless it is, indeed, sacrificial. If a billionaire gives away a million dollars, it's no big deal. He/she's got tons of dough left. If, however, the same billionaire were to give away everything they owned, reducing their net worth to zero, they would be loveing (this, of course, assuming they directed the said funds in a manner that both didn't benefit them, but did benefit others.

Also, it's important to note that, in some degree, every human being on the planet does hate everything and everybody else in the world. This is a very wide-reaching and absolutist statement, but, again, hate by definition doesn't have to be absolute in degree, but merely do you call it. Preference? The direction in which the hate is directed. It's universal.

In an opposing manner, love is UN-universal, except for Jesus'. When we love someone, even when we give our lives for them, there is something in it for us, and that's what makes our love...insufficient, I guess you could say. Regardless of how hard we try (and perhaps because of how hard we try, actually), we can never love selflessly and utterly self-sacrificially. Only Jesus can do that.

So I guess when Jesus says we must hate our family (mother, brothers, etc), we're called instead to love others without prejudice or restraint, specifically in the instances when we can't get anything at all in return.

Which never really happens. At the very least, we feel good about ourselves and what we've done when we've loved someone.

Wow, that makes me feel sorry for Jesus.

I guess I'll sleepinate this computer before it dies and Gabriel consequently kills me.

G'night, weirdos.


February 18, 2012


(Or Lilly, depending if you were awesome or not.)



To many, the name would probably be spelt with one L. Or two, depending if you only count adjacents or not. For these select few, Lilly would most likely perceive your faulty use of Ls and chuck a toad at you. Regardless, this is her story.


Lilly was born somewhere or other in the world, and probably had sushi by her third minute of life. Her parents were not convicted of negligent babyslaughter because she failed to die for nearly seventeen years. (also, being completely awesome helped them a lot)


Lilly grew up with her parents and at least two sisters. Could be three. Maybe more, if dudes were to be included. But I don't think they were. Or existed ever. I shall return to the point, though.

Lilly grew up on a farm in the middle of the Sahara with her sisters and parents, but things weren't cool enough there.


*blinks at previous sentence repeatedly*

Therefore, by the age of four, Lilly moved to one of the polar ice caps. It's always been unclear because, at the age of three, Lilly turned invisible. If anyone's seen a grave around, therefore, labelled Lillian ██████, it's because at the age of three, she was pronounced missing in action, having promised to demonstrate her world-renowned acrobatic abilities to the local toddler population. (the toddler population of the Sahara was sorely lacking)

She remained at whichever ice cap it happened to be until she turned fifteen. Or whenever it was that she finally appeared in the Land of the Living, California. She then attended a conference of peculiar people with her constant companion, Precious Technology. Things were pretty harsh around there, so her protective nature came in handy. You know. With all those wild humans and all.

Regardless, in those days of madness and folly, she met a ton of people, who instantly saw the resemblance and named her Granite. Some were more reluctant and attempted to achieve a good photograph of her. But this story is about a girl, not a weirdo with a camera and no sense of personal space.

Lilly went home to her parents, who'd oddly enough moved to this strange place in Asgard called Lodi, which Loki had somehow misspelt in the euphoria after having seizing the town. Here she did awesome things with her friends and siblings for a while. (this part of her history is shrouded in mist and fog and even smog, on, Thursdays, so I'll move on) Lilly frequently went on rather fantabulous motorcycle rides with her father, Archibald.

Lilly's later life is plagued with paper clips and actually a lot of pop-tarts, if you look closely enough, but, without a doubt, she made a dent in the proverbial gong of life.


It was a sunny day at her home in the Mojave Desert, sitting silently on her rickety rocking chair on her also rickety porch. The sun beat down and Lilly's pet tortellini dangled happily in the wind. The scene was peaceful. But it was all a lie! The sushi she'd eaten many decades before was waging its final, great war against Lilly, and, after defeating her asophegus, mauling her appendix and applying the theory of relativity to her tonsils, it made its way to her heart!

Things were looking grim for Lilly, but, being elderly and toothless and all, she offered her faithful tortellini the chance to defeat the foul sushi. She swallowed her tortellini after a heartfelt goodbye, and it went to work.

The tortellini went after the sushi, zooming, running, bopping! It followed the sushi, 'til at last they met at the great gates of Lilly's heart. The tortellini was a worthy foe, and fought well and hard, but in the end, the sushi's pure young rawness defeated the pasta's rather elderly cooked nature, and it forced its way into her heart, and caused great mayhem therein.

Lilly burped, and moments later greeted Peter.


Lilly was one hundred and four, and was missed by the whole human race, except for Joe Shmoe.

He didn't care.


February 17, 2012

the City on a Forest

Being that I've had a T2i for a while now (on loan from NatCam), it seemed about time I made myself some sort of video. This is a timelapse I created while building a city/towers on top of a "forest".

This is far more exceptional because of how much effort I put into it post-production than how much trouble it took to set up the building and record the pictures and video. I accomplished a lot in Blender tonight, figuring things out that I didn't know before, and using them as they should be. Thus, we have this.



February 04, 2012


‎"If today we lay the fault for lives lost on heroes, perhaps tomorrow heroes will no longer take up the mantle and the burden of saving lives, and will no longer hold back the lifelong tide of the dead." 

~ Swishkin

January 16, 2012


(For those of you wondering what the heck this is, this is the second part. The first part is available as requested, but, be warned, it's the longest, most rambly, inconsistent, terrific, incredible, horrendous mess of words I've ever read. And I didn't write it. If you still want to read the first part of this story, just ask and I'll find some way to get the monstrosity to you.)


After the Storm

A long time ago, when huge gigantic wars were going on, and great evils were being scrunched to death, and when tortillas were still inclined to go skydiving, there were companions. Primarily, though, this story and the ones before it pertain to a girl by the name of Susie. Occasionally people were unsure of the spelling of her name, occasionally she was shot with darts, and occasionally she shot darts herself. Most of the time, though, she was confused.

No more. Susie had friends. There was Walter, who she had this thing for, and who, no less, had this thing for her. Yes. Things were had, back then.

There were Ashley, and Clefspeare, Tux and William and Bonnie. But they were all gone.

In the literal sense, Susie was sitting in a pile of dust. Well, no, it was actually sand. And it wasn’t so much a pile as, well, a desert. She was feeling pretty bad. Her lips had gone dry about six hours ago, and time progressing thusfar in such a was as not to end her life was nothing but a miracle. Anyway, she was really thirsty.

Queue beginning of absurdly long description of the local landscape.

Susie sat in a dune several feet taller than almost every other one for miles around. For miles and miles around, there was nothing but sand. There was yellow sand, orange sand, red sand, and there was white sand. In the distance, if one were dehydrated and malnourished, one might even make out blue sand, but that obviously couldn’t be anything but a mirage.

There were several boulders smattered in Susie’s broader vicinity. One of them happened to be shadowing her, oddly enough.

I say oddly enough simply because it was high noon. The sun was directly above her. Nevertheless, she was comparatively cool.

Which honestly goes without saying. If you weren’t aware, she’s got the nerve of twelve lions, and the backbone of an overdried tortilla.

Queue end of absurdly long description of the situation in general.

A spider walked up to her and insisted on occupying her knee.

She raised an eyebrow at it and shrugged. It’d been a while since she’d cared if she lived or died. She remembered the good times. Fighting monsters and conquering evils and whatnot. It had been fun. Moreover, there had been Walter. She loved the way he’d been surprised when she nearly crushed the life out of him after all that craziness. She loved the way his hair rarely smelled of dead fish, and she really didn’t mind it when he kissed her.

She started crying.

They were all gone. It seemed impossible that they could be alive. How could they have survived?


Moments after the companions had received their gifts from the White One, they had all sat around for a half minute staring blankly into the surrounding horizon and every one of them failing in every way to think of something to say.

Eventually, though, Walter wacked himself on the head and stood up. It took him some time to figure out what to do after that, but he guided his belt through the loops in his jeans. He sheathed Excalibur and proceeded to look like he had some idea what should be done.

Consequently, the fellowship turned their eyes to him, attentive and willing.

“Um,” he said, looking rather nervous all of a sudden. Suddenly, though, it was clear to him. The path ahead was laid out before him like a very-advanced holographic heads-up-display, but with less expanded abbreviations and less tech involved. Pretty much a gut feeling. It was like his heart could see the yellow brick road even though his eyes couldn’t.

“Come one, people, we haven’t got all day!” he said jovially.

And with that, he led them all into a sandstorm. He wasn’t exactly sure at what point it went from a greened rocky crag to a maelstrom of a desert, but at some point, it did. The company was divided thus: Bonnie found herself with Walter, William with Tux, Clefspeare with Ashley.
Susie, though, found herself alone. And, being the main character of an absurdly long story, she was spending some time feeling sorry for herself. Naturally, crying and not doing anything useful in the desert, she...

“Wanna play darts?” said a tall man with far too much facial hair and a wicked grin on his face.


January 09, 2012

New Year, stuff and things

Well, it's a new year. I guess that's alright. I haven't written any resolutions. I can't say my life's better yet for having an extra couple years on this decade. Anyway.

Hmmm. What to say. I might be getting a new camera and/or taking some photography classes soon. This primarily depends on my parents, which I'll be grateful for when I see it. Not that I don't appreciate their apparent willingness now, but it's a pretty big thing. I can't wait to go to NatCam to test out all the options.

Still cleaning the house. Unfortunately, I'm not taking much part in it anymore. I probably should. But on the other hand, I want to continue Taekwondo. Preferably more than before. Especially since spring might potentially be around the corner, but actually regardless.

The madhouse that is my mind? For the moment, things are moderately calm. I haven't really talked to a friend in a while, and I feel like I'm getting used to it. That's a bad thing? I'm pretty sure it is in the long run, but for now, I can imagine it being a good thing. Then again, my imagination...

Trying to find a film developer for the cartridge that came with the Olympus film camera. I took a dozen or so's odd, though. It says it's a 24-shot one. I guess my confusion is a given, given the fact I've never really used a film camera before. (actually, I have, but it was in Colorado. Like twelve years ago. Disposable. Yes.)

Girl X is still on the lam. Question is, do I forget her as I've always thought of her (potentially meaning the abrupt and unstoppable return of affection just as she returns), or should I let absence do what it does?


Even more important, even if I could make my bloody mind up, would I be able to act accordingly?