I have A Problem.

Okay, okay, so I have many problems. In fact, my biggest problem sometimes is trying to catalog and address all my problems. Especially the cataloging part. I have problems like a bargain hunter after a liquidation sale. My problems are varied and voluminous, oddly sized and awkwardly shaped. But they are all exacerbated by The Problem I drew attention to previously, which is this: I love the short road.

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There’ s nothing noble in

Being corpulent and spent.

Looking like a moody marshmallow or maybe

A sad sack of potatoes,

Who really cares?

You’re too broad to be narrow like this.

But despair looks lovely

On the slender and the slim

Who sit with bony knees uplifting bony elbows

With a board flat abdomen that curves,

The head in the hands is only the point that comes at the bottom

Of the body’s question mark.

And the question is:

What’s the point?

I think I need to go on a European tour. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to use this guy as my travel agent.

There’s really no need to go. The only reason that I’m even contemplating it is because I’m disappointed. How, you may ask? And I answer, In myself.

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Alright, alright. I admit it. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk to that-erp!-man I was lamblasting yesterday morning. Not sorry enough to take to down though, I guess. No alterations. No going back and changing the past, even when I could and not have to worry about that whole paradoxical killed-my-grandfather-on-accident type of thing. I should be honest. And the honest truth is apparently that I’m kind of cruel and have an anger problem.

No, really, I’m as shocked as you are.

And, in the spirit of being upfront about things that I don’t want to admit, I should say that I’ve also been missing Simon. I broke down and asked him to call me. Argh. Why do I have to be me?

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There are some of you who may assume that I suffer from some sort of mental disorder that includes violent moods swings and illusions of grandeur. But those are only the people who know me well. For the rest of you, my insanity will have to be proven. And, let me wager, proven it shall be.

Insert Jarring Subject Change Here.

I was talking with Stephen tonight after we saw Fireproof at the Danberry Dollar Saver (not as bad as I thought it might be, I’ll be honest). He was remarking on how some (private and not to be disclosed here) things in the past had really injured him but that he wasn’t angry over them, and I mentioned that it’s very difficult to be hurt by someone or something and not become angry. I know this because I’ve been in that place before and had to recognise the true source of my upset. I know this because I’m there now.

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he said: “This is Step Three. Step One was to stop hating you. Step Two was to start talking to you again. Step Three is building a friendship. And that’s what I’m doing.”

I said: “Wow. You should give a seminar.”

I thought: “I know you’ve been hurt. But will you ever see what He’s made me? Will you? It’s a matter of will at this point, you know.”

He said: “You have forgiveness, but you also have consequence. And not everyone is going to see what I see when they look at you.”

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he said: “I don’t want to get distracted. I’m just trying to sit back and see what He has for me, if you know what I mean.”

I said: “That’s wonderful. I want to do that too.”

I thought: “What He has for you may not be what you want Him to have. What He has for you is up to Him.”

He said: “I told you before. I have a purpose in this. I have a purpose in everything.”

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he said: “I have to think about it. I just don’t know.”

I said: “Tell me one way or the other. You don’t not know. If you don’t want to, then you don’t want to. If it isn’t yes, it’s no.”

I thought: “You’re afraid and you have every right to be. You’re afraid, but you won’t get any further until you aren’t.”

He said: “Forget everything else. My will will be done.”

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