Thursday, November 19, 2009


I am having the post-college life beaten into me with a sledgehammer. Not to say that I don't need it or that I didn't have it coming with my year of half-time student, part-time work "preparation/transition." But really, every day, the same thing over and over again. The adventure is lost when your schedule falls opposite to the people around you. I save money, eat at home, make t-shirts. There is this idea in my head that things should indeed get better when marriage comes, when this little "year of my life" meets its end and there are new things to be excited about. There is also, however, the much more intelligent and mature portion of my mind that screams, "Goodness David! How on earth can you reconcile spending a year in waiting, making little good of yourself save for the few dollars you have collected in your bank account?"

Well, smart-part-of-myself, I don't know how I do it. I don't know how it is possible to feel satisfied with what I have accomplished over these past six months, but somehow I am partially doing it. Yeah, I should make a change, but like C.S. Lewis put it in some letter I read the other day, a passionless life certainly always leads to an insurmountable lethargy worth taking notice of.

So I am writing about it, taking notice of it. Where do I turn when I am too ashamed to pick up where I left off with some things? How embarrassing will it be to acknowledge how far back I must trek to find those loose ends? PRetty embarrassing potentially. Almost embarrassing enough to convince myself to not do it. But it's like going on a run for the first time in too long; you know exactly how painful it is going to be to face your shriveling lungs, to face your achy knees and unnecessary side cramps. Once you make it trough the humiliation, you realize each day will be slightly better.

And here I am, in some stubborn way, preaching an impossible gospel. I know what to do, but I will be right back here in another six months if I don't figure out why I am doing it. God, to surrender is something foreign to me. I have never really surrendered anything to you, I don't suppose. But here it is, my umteenth shot. I can tell this time is the most serious. Maybe that means something. The thought that even one person besides myself will read this has literally no vanity involved anymore. Vanity hasn't been an issue since I got facebook. If anything, it may make me feel responsible to someone, seeing as it hasn't necessarily meant much to try to remain responsible to myself.

So let's give it another shot.

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