When the dream dies and all hope is lost, I find I must at last fling my cares onto God. For only He has the strength, wit, and wisdom to direct my path. Only He knows whether the dream is truely dead, whether hope is completely lost. Only God almighty knows the paths I should walk...but He has revealed to where that path will lead.

God, Father, direct my path, comfort my soul, and allow me to walk in your will. I commend my hopes and dreams into your hands...


She filed.

Psalms 6:2-3

And now...?

Am I a fool? I dont really have anything to say, other than to ask that singular question. I wish I knew the answer. F@@k it. I probably do know the answer.

I had a brief, but very scary thought. Looking at her, she reminded me of something, something I should've left forgotten. I had had the thought before, but like all thoughts of this sort, it was quickly banished, being much too improper for the light of day. And yet, here it is again, rising unbidden in my mind. I seek to cast it out, like some wretched cancer or glutton leech. I will not succumb to the thought; I will not let it roil around inside my brain, only to produce some evil fruit. Shall I give it voice here, in this empty chamber? I shall not! Do not trouble yourself, my friend, with trying to discover it, for you cannot guess it! No, I shall not give it voice, not even a whisper...

Apologies and confessions

I love my wife. I just can't help it. I think she is stellar: witty, smart, beautiful, loving and a tender hearted mother. I love her with all that I am. I love her so much it hurts. My chest actually aches with overflowing love for her. I think though, that my love must be like dung. Distasteful and foul, malodorous and wretched. I spoil what I touch. I seem to destroy the beautiful and corrupt the innocent with my love. I am a no one and she deserves much more. I am sorry dear for ever hurting you. I am sorry if I spoiled your innocence and covered your radiance. I am sorry if I could never be who you needed me to be. I am simply that, sorry. I hope one day you can forgive me. And I hope one day you can see that I truly loved you; that I have always loved you.

Whats on YOUR mind? Here's what's on mine...

If God could make a mistake, it would be me. I don't think that God would make an obvious mistake (if He made them), but rather the kind of mistake I would represent. I don't think the Down's kid or the disabled guy represent the type of mistake that I do. No, not at all.



I am a fool.

A disaster of neurotic proportion.

I offer a semblance of normality, hiding a pit of failure.

You wouldn't want to get too close, you might fall through the thin layers and lose yourself.

I am an unfullfilled dream.

I am the unintended consequence.

A dung heep, if you will.

I am of the surrender monkey of life.

I am the guy who talks a passable game, but lives in the gutter.

I am the wino that promises he won't use that dollar for cheap wine, then does.

I am PPP, if you get my meaning.

I am a fool.



They say that God doesn't make mistakes. And I believe them. So what happened to me.

Sometimes I wish God would flush the toilet and just be done...

A List of Lists plus a comment

1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six

I obviously like the site that these came from. I also like the Presurfer.

neuronal misfires...
and other randomness

Take nothing that I write at face value. And yet, nothing I write has any particular depth. So where does that leave us...

On the way to Wal-Mart. I am thinking about what I should be doing with the next several months. What will my options be, what choices will I have or not have, that kind of thing. Behind me is a guy on a motorcycle. Leather jacket, racing patches, roundish open faced helmet and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. What would it be like to be THAT guy. Hard to tell through the rear view mirror, but I imagine he is happy and without stress. He turned right at the stoplight and rode off to his imaginably perfect life. And ahead of me, a rear window sign on an SUV that reminds me that "God Loves You."

A church sign reminds me...or rather teaches me..."The Will of God will not send you where the Grace of God cannot protect you." Like it, and sounds true enough. The sending part though, can be very difficult. Faith assures us that Grace covers us, but being a standard issue human, it's tough for me to rest assured. Guess that's why it is called faith...

Wal-Mart is the same as ever. Well, not quite the same. The lines are not overwhelming because they actually have more than one lane open. Wal-Mart is a pain, can be depressing, frustrating, and is something I tend to avoid the place. Still, I don't really mind going. Sometimes the complaining of it is just fun and is expected...

Do you think that ones susceptibility to peer pressure decreases with age? I think it does. and so do you, don't you. Everyone else thinks it does, why don't you? How does it feel to stand out in a crowd - and not in a cool, I am a rock star way - but in a I am a disturbed odd sort of fellow who doesn't believe the obvious. I knew you agreed with me on this...

If I could have a superpower, it would be teleportation.

10 Songs

I have absolutely no musical talent. Simple fact. I am amazed by those who do have musical talent. Songwriters and musicians can reach out and touch our hearts in so many ways, like no others can. I think it is a common experience for people to hear a song and something about that song will hook them. Then there are those special songs that come around only rarely - those songs that seem to be written just for you. The song hits you, you almost feel like the artist was watching over your shoulder and decided to sing about your experiences. It speaks to the commonality of human experience and our reactions to life. Anyway, here are a few of those special songs that have touched me in the last few years....

1. Beauty From Pain by Superchick
2. Pure by Superchick
3. We Live also by Superchick
4. Come My Way by Skillet
5. Jesus, Jesus (Holy and Annointed One) by Skillet
6. Imperfection by Skillet
7. Fingernails by Skillet
8. Breath You In by Thousand Foot Krutch
9. Last Words by Thousand Foot Krutch
10 Wish You Well by Thousand Foot Krutch

I stand alone on a barren path. The earth is baked and hard, unyielding. The air hot and unforgiving. I see lush growth for miles around, birds sing and people jabber. I am here of my own doing, this path is of my choosing, though I did not know it when I chose. I stand alone on a barren path.

I have dressed myself. A bitter gag silences me. A thick, but worn leather straight jacket wraps me and ensure that only I can provide comfort to me. Pants woven of thorns providing masochistic joy with every step. My feet are bare against the earth. I have dressed myself.

A knife. Pearl handled with an emerald encrusted guard. It is nestled in my chest. I can remember buying you that knife. I can remember the day I placed it in your hand and forced it into my chest. My gift to you. A knife.

I can remember a time when I thought that my tears would at least water the ground. Maybe, just maybe, something would then grow around me. Unfortunately I was wrong. Nothing grows around me. If I take one step forward or back, left or right, everything that was once lush dies; and life springs up where only death existed. A two meter perimeter of, well, nothing, surrounds me. I have tried, God knows I have tried, to reach out. Back when the straight jacket was more of a fashion statement than an excellent example of its usefulness, I would reach out to a rose, a flower, even a random vine. Just to touch something alive. Only to watch it whither away before I could get close. Tired of trying, I tightened the straps and hugged myself into isolation. So, here I am. A man standing alone on a barren path...