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?

!Noah!