Random Story

“Why can't we smoke weed?” “Why do bad things happen to good people?” “Why does God take good people away early?” All questions we were bombarding our counselors and staff with at camp. At sixteen years old, sitting amongst my peers in a sweltering heat of the chapel building and wondering when they would give something that was not safe as an answer. As the director of camp cycled through question after question we had written down on little slips of paper just trying to figure it all out. While some of us had used the questions as a frame to throw some hilarity into life, some people took it seriously and asked things bothering them for months, questions that had been on their backs and dragging them down into the muck of everyone else's lives and out of the “chosen people” we were so often told we were supposed to be. We asked questions so that we could become set apart.

“This question is one of my favorites.” The directors voice billowed, able to fill so many of us sitting in those seats with fear and love and every other emotion at the same time. I turned to him and saw the sweat rolling over his large frame as he moved the microphone away from his mouth so the audience could not hear his gasp for air as that I knew was happening. “Why do the older church leaders stop the youth from taking over.” He swiped his forehead, another gasp, a pause as he collected his thoughts before uttering words that would undoubtedly change someones life forever. “This is a great question, I have been wrestling with it myself since I read it yesterday. I would like whoever wrote this to stand up.

I felt the sudden chill I often associate with my spiritual moments, while at the same time I was suddenly even more thankful I had rid my shirt of sleeves as I felt the sweat become even more profusely. I struggled as I glanced around anxiously and held onto the edge of my chair. I felt my legs quiver a slight bit as I stood up and almost hoped someone else would, that someone else would take credit for this embarrassing question that I had scribbled down finally after deciding not to go with the oddly humorous one that would not be answered. I stood up and turned to face him.

“I'm sorry, I really am, when I asked the person to stand up, I didn't know it was going to be Patric.” I heard my dad say as he looked me in the eye. This was when I had it all figured out, but somewhere along the way, I lost it all.

The Couch

There is a scene in Scrubs where JD finally gets what he wants more then anything, Elliot is sitting next to him on the couch watching lame tv shows and eating pizza, and then he realizes that he doesn't want that anymore.

Thats where I am, what I had hoped for over six months of my life fell into my lap, and I am saying no. Its incredibly hard to do, I hate saying no to people I don't like or care about. Let alone to someone who was so important in my life, but I have to, or atleast think I do.

Spiritual Formation Week sure started with a bang.

Its monday night and weeks away.

It is monday night, we are just weeks away from the NBA playoffs, the races are tight for the final positions in a league that is regaining its popularity and what is on TNT? Law and Order. What is on ESPN? Lame sports that no one cares about. Orlando and Miami, two exciting teams with superstar players pulling them into the playoffs played a game decided by under ten points, but outside of Florida no one watched it.

Time to start

Well, after an absence from blogging in order to cure my insanity. I'm back, and no longer insane in that way, so I will start blogging again, and do it every day for awhile. A line a day, as Mrs. Granzow would always say.

The Truth

I am not a hero.
I am the villain, the thief, the one sent to hurt you.
But you escaped.
I knew the world and what I wanted.
But you saw the truth.
I am weak, I am foolish.
I do not know where I am going.
I faked it, hoped I would make it.
Told everyone the path.
I am no better, no more secure.
I know not what to do.
I thought I was the answer.
The way to save you.
When really, I threw you to the wolves.
I was not your escape.
The only way for you to be free.
Is for me to leave.

Smooth

I shaved, again, total baby face.

Since it is so cold and basketball has not been so much of a relaxing thing as it usually is, and more of a bored why am I still playing thing, shaving has become a way to relax.

It is a way to start a new, go a few days and get some scruffle, then shave so that you recognize the face looking back at you, it has gone from personnel grooming to a spiritual experience, like when I take showers until we are out of hot water at home and I just stand there and enjoy the warm liquid rolling down my skin.

Only a fool looks at himself in the mirror and forget what he looks like as soon as he leaves.

I keep staring, hoping that at some point I will remember what I am supposed to do when I was so sure so recently that I was doing right.

I just don't know...

The sounds of the White Stripes have been bombarding me all day.

I just don't know what to do with myself.

I was afraid to come back home, then I was afraid to come back to school, and now nothing really seems to be... Fun.

And at the same time I am not depressed like I was when I first got to Barclay, I remember the feeling of dread every time I left my room for the first few months I was here and now I have no problems with it. I just am struggling to find a point to any of it.

Dude, I don't like being emo Patric.

Time for bed, maybe my cold is effecting my mood.

Homeward bound...

Finals are rounding down, I am about to go home for an extended stay. And after Thanksgiving break, I am scared of returning.

I returned home the first time full of exuberance after knowing what God wanted of me, knowing that Vennard was a thing to show me that the reasons for thinking about returning where crap reasons. And then I got there and realized the crap reason was still there.

I am now faced with returning again, and this time I will probably be unable to avoid seeing her again. I have been pounded with ideas of love for the first nineteen years of my life that have seem to be totally false and I still can not shake it.

I can see no way to escape this, I can see no way to avoid it, and I still feel responsible for it.

I know that as soon as I get home I will receive more messages saying she wants to see me, and I do not know if I will be strong enough to say no this time. Emotions die hard.