Was that on purpose?

A couple passed me the other day wearing two t-shirts that either went together perfectly or not at all. The guy was wearing a red shirt with the message, "Satan is a dork." The girl wore a black shirt that said, "WICKED."

I'm Not Really Superman

As I was walking the other day, I came upon a tree that had been partially destroyed by a storm the previous night. The tree had split down the middle and one side, dead on the inside from some tree disease, had fallen over in the strong wind. A stood there examining the large chunk of the tree now lying sprawled on the ground and the gaping hole left in the remaining Maple. As I looked, two guys walked by. They saw me standing beside the fallen tree, and one of them said, "Did you knock it over?"
I smiled. "I think I pushed it a little too hard," I said. Then I corrected myself, "actually, I sneezed!"
They said I should be more careful, and I went on pretending I had done it, joking with them. Then, all joking aside, I said, "No, I didn't really do that. But it would have been cool if I had!"
They agreed. I mean, seriously--being able to knock a tree down with a sneeze? How cool would that be?
As I walked away, I chuckled at the conversation. Then I realized the situation was a little more humorous than I was giving it credit for:

I was wearing a Superman t-shirt.

Collegiate Anatomical Nomenclature

Yes, my friends, it's that time of year. Actually, it's at least a week into that time of the year--the time of year when you re-enter the classroom after approximately three months of not being in the classroom. Summer fades into not-summer, and not-summer takes the shape of classes where we all try to be intellectual (when us "we-people" are all knowing that our brain-organ-things have been kinda fuzzy for 3 months...but we trie an-ee-wae). And, in the collegiate text books (which cost an arm and a leg...and a couple of toes to boot--haha, no pun intended. Okay yes it was.), you of course find authors with names that remind you of anatomical terms--names like "Kolln," "Richter," "Bressler," and "Baugh" (pronounced [b-OW]). Why is it that people with anatomical names are always the intellectuals? It's like an unwritten rule: If one is wishing to be super smart, one's name must sound like a body part. (The rule even rhymes! It must be true.)
So, to all those who have left summer at the door of the classroom--welcome back. Don't let the body-names scare you. Intellectual people are people, too--they're just intellectual as well. And they have funny names.

Parasaurolophus

Beautiful dinosaur.
I have always adored dinosaurs. Just imagining what it would be like to stand beneath a towering giant of power, strength, and wild grace has always been one of my favorite ponderations. As you can tell from my profile from my favorite movies, dinosaurs have always had a special place in my heart.
The parasaurolophus is my favorite. Though you probably have trouble with the name (as do I, but it is the case with most dinosaur names), it is a beautiful name, and the creature fits it well. From pictures, it seems a very noble dinosaur, but wild enough to be dangerous. It is a specimen of beauty, and a monster of grace. It walks softly--or as softly as a dinosaur can--but it is not to be crossed. I would love to ride on its back. If our minds could cross, I think we might become best friends.
Oh, I'm not describing it well enough. The only way I've best found to describe it is this:
If Jesus were a dinosaur, I think He would be a parasaurolophus.

Blueberry Picking

Aeleli and I had a wonderful afternoon happily plucking ripe blueberries. It was a peaceful time of choosing the bluest berries and dropping them into our plastic ice-cream buckets with a small but definitive "plunk!" As we made our way around the bushes, we began to cover the bottom of our buckets with the pleasant fruits. As we neared a close, I noticed that, while half of my bucket's bottom was concealed, hers was completely so. I asked her what her secret was, and she showed me. "There's more on the inside of the bushes," she said. And she was right. I had been going around the outer edge of the bushes and picking what blueberries I could see. But she knew what it was to delve deeper--to work a little more and reap greater results. You reap what you sow, right? Well, if you sow a little labor, you get a small harvest. But what if you sow a lot?
As hard-set as I often am against working (because it isn't "fun", boo-hoo), she taught me a truth I've failed to see too many times before: Working harder pays more splendid results than working easy. Her twice-as-full bucket showed me so. When it comes to working for the results worth working for, how often do we just scratch the surface of what we could really be and find and do?

There is no time

We all use this phrase. "There is no time." That is the dilemma we all share--there just isn't enough time to do the things we want to do--sometimes even the things we need to do. We all say, "if I had more time, then I would..." paint; write; read; spend more time with family. You name it. We all have our own quarrel with the unstopping, uncaring clock face. But I think it is because our phrasing is incomplete.
Lately, I have complained at having no time to do the things I really want to do. But I realized that if I really want to do them, why don't I?
You see, there is always time, if we so decide. Our lives must be re-phrased as such:
"There is no time--like the present."

G.I.G.O.

It is a simple but gut-wrenching question I pose today: Why do we willingly expose ourselves to things we do not agree with or support for the sake of entertainment?
We watch TV, we see movies, we read books, and we listen to music knowing that the content of some of the things we put into our minds are not of preferred quality, many of which are often of no quality whatsoever but are instead detrimental to our thoughts. Why? It seems true that, in our society, entertainment is more important than wholesome personal growth. I ask myself (and you might do the same), "Is it possible it has become such on a personal level with me, and not only in society at large? Have I made my temporal pleasure more important than who and what I am and that which I am becoming?"
Why is it this way, if such is the case?
Or are these even questions worth asking?

Resume Safe Speed

I know it has been awhile, and I hope I will receive pardon for committing the unpardonable blogger-sin of neglecting my blog(s) for...awhile (to put it lightly). But here I am again, showing up every now and again with a thought or two.
But I haven't been neglectful purposefully.
No, I take that back. I was being purposefully neglectful. I was neglecting blogging because I've found love. You see, in the duration of time that has transpired since the last time I blogged, I have asked my beautiful companion, Aeleli Raelca, to be my wife. I might tell you all about how it happened someday, but for now it will suffice to say that we scaled a mountain together, and, in the white sun of a summer day at a 360-degree-view peak, I kneeled on a Rock, opened a box with a small gift inside, and said, "I love you, . . . and I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?"
And she said yes.
And thus I am discovering that love is as much about companionship as it is commitment. You cannot have the former without the latter. And my dear Aeleli is well worth committing to. I stand now before the world (via my blog, at least), able to proudly say that I love this woman with all of my heart.
For this reason, I cannot say that my time will be devoted to this blog as much, anymore, since I am discovering life (and love) itself beyond these meager pages. But I'm here now, resuming where I left off.
Which leads me to a thought. Have you ever thought about how funny the highway signs that say "Resume safe speed" are? It makes me laugh when I drive past those signs. It's as if people go unsafe speeds...until they reach those signs, at least.
So here I am...resuming.