Once upon a time I used to pen introspective thoughts late at night while my roommates were sleeping. Some people seem to miss those ponderings, and sometimes I do, too.
I think often those writings were born out of not knowing what to write, and just forcing myself to plunk something out. Lately (meaning the past several years) I’ve found other things to talk about on this blog and didn’t have the need to force it. Maybe something was lost in that.
So here goes…
If you don’t read my other incredibly insightful blog, Real Magazine, shame on you. No, just kidding. It’s written for teens, so I don’t expect everyone to be into it (though I do post more pop culturey stuff over there).
Anyway, I wanted to point your attention to a ‘When I Was Your Age’ entry I wrote over there, Sixteen and Behind the Wheel. I’ve talked about this column before, it’s something I write for my youth group’s newsletter and it seems like a good fit for Real.
This post is all about the joys of driving for teens and includes some of my stupider moves in life. If you like the series, you can also check out my Christian T-shirt entry. I hope to keep adding them on a semi-regular basis.
It’s time for some porch blogging. I’d go for deck blogging, like Jordon Cooper, but it keeps spitting rain. Yesterday and today have been absolutely beautiful weather wise, and I’ve decided today was a worthwile Sabbath day.
Lately I’ve been reading the works of Donald Miller. Well, two of them: Blue Like Jazz and Searching for God Knows What. I liked Blue Like Jazz a whole lot more, and I realized it’s because Miller told a lot more personal stories in that book.
For some time now I’ve had recurring dreams about high school. It’s usually some sort of trauma-inducing scenario, like my old high school was remodeled and now I can’t find my classes and I get lost and end up in the wrong place. Utter embarrassment results every time.
Sometimes there are extra twists, like I lost my glasses and am slowly going blind, or I can’t remember my schedule, or I lost my homework or something. But it’s always high school.
High school for me was the epitome of social awkwardness. Nothing captures that feeling better than the short-lived TV series Freaks and Geeks. Yesterday my wife and I watched the first episode again, and the pain was palpable. The gym class awkwardness, the intimidation of older, bigger students, the outsider status.
Some people say high school is the best four years of your life. I think people who say that should be committed.
It’s amazing how my blogging comes in fits and spurts. I’ll post ten entries in three days, and then go three days with absolutely nothing. I’m not sure how you as a reader feel about that, but it’s a bit freeing as a writer to not have to care about that. That’s just the way it is. So there.
I’m feeling introspective this morning, so we’ll be doing a bit of rambling. I’ll just jump to the extended entry now since I doubt much of this will be very interesting.
I haven’t done much pondering lately. I’ve been rather busy. Writing a novel, listening to U2, eating turkey, posting things like this. It’s been hard to just sit down and think.
Bad news comes in the form of unexpected communication. A phone call interupting the otherwise normal day. A letter with a strangely familiar return address. An e-mail from someone you haven’t heard from in a while.
It’s that long streak of silence that’s so worrisome. Then suddenly a burst of communication and you want to curl up and cry. Or sigh. Or hang your head and keep asking why. I knew it was coming, too. It was just a matter of time.
I wonder how long we’ll have to deal with it, how long we’ll have to go back and forth, from walking on egg shells, to getting comfortable again, to not hearing anything and then a sudden blow. The distance is getting farther, but the pain is no less. It’s not the same without her.
I know it will probably be like this forever. I’m not being pessimistic, just realistic. It may not always be as extreme, I pray it won’t, but it will always exist. Like an alcoholic, there will always be the danger of relapse. It’s the human condition.
It reminds me of a poem I wrote so long ago, when it was just beginning. A beautiful dandelion, so much potential, and your head’s getting popped. It cuts to the bone.
And all I can write are cryptic ramblings to a unexpecting public. Sorry folks, it’s not all quips and quotes.
For my youth group’s newsletter I write a dorky column called “When I Was Your Age.” (it sure beats “The Unnamed Column”)
When I was your age I discovered the ska band Five Iron Frenzy. …
When I was your age I remember sitting in the principal’s office. …
When I was your age my first semester of high school was a long session of introverted shyness. …
When I was your age I was the hand operating Mr. Quimper, a two-person puppet and proprietor of a soda shop that sold super-duper-frosty-freezy-sarsaparilla-rainbow-sherbet phosphates.
You get the idea.
Sometimes I think my calling in life is to be a contrarian. I seem to have to disagree with everything. I suppose there are bigger, more psychopathic contrarians than me, but I tend to disagree with a lot of things most people generally accept.
I feel it the most when I walk into a Christian bookstore. Yesterday I found a reprinted version of a book I loathe. I thought it would die a lonely death with a second-rate publisher. But alas, it’s been picked up and reprinted, and I’ve lost respect for a first-rate publishing house. To my horror, the most irritating aspect of that book was still there, untouched. I still have the original manuscript of that book that I was asked to read and give quotes for the back cover. I keep it on a shelf in my office as inspiration.
But that wasn’t the only thing I disagreed with. I noticed that in the entire “teen christian living” section, half of it was books about sex and dating. Sigh. I won’t even get into that.
But what I did get into were the several books about modesty. For some reason it’s a topic that’s gathering a lot of steam. Once upon a time I would have been on that train (and there’s probably entries in the archive to that effect). But now I see a lot of holes in the modesty logic. I read an article a few weeks back that really pissed me off, and it’s taken all my restraint not to write an all-out rant about it.
Instead I’ve decided to let the ideas fester, let my brain mull it over some more and see what I really think about it. I think in the end I’ll still be the contrarian, but I’m trying to bring a bit of levity to it. Just a bit though. I’m sure the rant is still coming.