Give.

This is the semester of lousy grades. For the first time in my academic career, I am actually no longer an A student.

I am trying to find the redemption in this, and remember a time long ago when I used to preach on the evils of being defined by your grades.

Excuse me, tantrum's coming.

uncharmed.

Unblessed and broken. Bleh.

Like the sour aftertaste of medicine.

Teach me how to love.

There is something glamourously tragic about riding in the backseat of a car. Quietly. Converseless and careless. Or laden with cares and internal conversation. Whatever.

I just think that there is something novel about being in the backseat of a car.
Quietly.
Not something that happens very often.

You can't go on

Thinking nothing's wrong

Chesterton has a wicked sense of humor. And a lot to say about the state of humanity in our sin. It is a wonder though, that many of us (Christians included) have lost our notion of sin and fallenness. So much so that it is very easy to ignore and rationalize away the guilt that otherwise should riddle our spirits. Indeed as Chesterton purports, rational logic and not spirited art is the root of insanity and as it is impossible to communicate with the madman, it is even more impossible to communicate with the rational man. For this man, bred of the Enlightenment, hails solipsism and believes in himself, and hence is locked into the prison of individualism, with no sense of otherness. We are very small beings, and not built to be self-sufficient.

But then I wonder if my attempts to build community and relationships are actually worth anything. Or if they are but feeble representations of the circular, narrow, yet infinite arguments of the madman.

Who's gonna drive you home, tonight?

And through all this, I recall reading a thought off a page (off a hand-me-down chinese textbook no less), penned by Yishan:

"There is a joy in being a madman that only madmen will know."

And I think I know who's crazy.

Bonhoeffer said something about being real.

Forgive me.
~~~~

I need to be careful with myself.

My entire being
~~~~

Emotional pornography.

That's what it is.

Go ahead and erase the memory of me.