'Twas the Night after Christmas...

...and I finally felt like writing a blog again. It turns out that trying to be a writer for a living has left me somewhat less than eager to sit down and type out big entries on my blog. I think there's only so much structured thought (and staring at a screen) that my mind can handle.  With that in mind, this entry (and perhaps more and more of those to come) will be very unstructured and random.  The nice thing about having a blog with very few readers is that you can do things like that with no real ramifications. This blog has certainly gone through several different phases of more/less structure, and it will continue to be whatever I want and need it to be going forward.  Right now that means making it more personal and less conceptual, although I have no idea how that correlates to how beneficial it is for anyone else.  It might make me more likely to write more often, but I don't know if quantity is even as important as quality.  All I know is, if you want to read it, I'd love to have you do so! I do continue (even late at night) to hold myself to some standards of writing, so I will at least promise that-- I won't get completely lazy :)

It's funny to me how even the best things in life can become so formulaic that we do them without thinking.  I know I've talked about this before, but I seriously tend to do this with just about everything. Blogging is a prime example.  I like to share my poetry and thoughts, but sometimes I have such a rigid idea of what a blog post of mine can be that I don't write anything for a long time just because what that formula prescribes doesn't sound good to me!  That, in a word, is silly.  I want to do it less.  Random posts help me break out of it.

An interesting issue that brings up in my mind is that randomness can also become a formula.  This is a huge deal in the discussion of modern poetry, which I've been reading a lot of and a lot about recently.  Basically, poets around the turn of the 20th century got so tired of all the poetry "rules" about rhyme, meter, etc. that they just discarded them and tried to start all over without rules.  The thing is, they rejected the rules so rigidly that modern poetry quickly became just as stereotypical as what it tried to rebel against, only with fewer readers.

Now, I don't think poetry has to have rhyme or meter to be poetry.  Free verse can be wonderful if the words are chosen with the same diligence innately required by adherence to rhyme and meter.  It turns out, though, that it's also easy to use the whole "I don't follow the formula" thing as a cop-out for producing work with less effort and attention to quality.  As I look back at some of my poetry, I see that I too have done this.  I have traveled to the Wasteland and seen that many Waldo's have gone that way before, and continued on my journey.

Speaking of poetry, I have a B.A. in English with a concentration in poetry... and somehow I'm still woefully ignorant of good poetry throughout history.  I realized this with an unpleasant shock the other day, and I have a desire to fix it.  I own the Longman anthology of English poetry, so I just started at the beginning.  It's been a lot of fun, and I'm in the 18th century now.  I wonder why I didn't care about my education while I was actually doing it?

Speaking of that, I also unpleasantly realized that I haven't really cared about much of anything for a lot of my life.  I've been afraid, I guess.  I just want to stop living life like that.  I want to do things I really care about, and I want to really care about the things I'm doing.  Those are two subtly different things, in my mind, but I don't feel like explaining why.  Maybe you feel the same way and you'll just get it.

The more I begin to fear the Lord, the less I fear everything else.  This is what I think it means to be wholehearted.  Fear divides you, unless you fear the One whose great desire is to put you back together.  I don't want to live life in fragments, and I think God can make that happen.

I'm ready to care.

You know, I think you can only relax when you really care.  If you won't work hard on anything, you can't relax because there's nothing to relax from!  I know that when I've gone through times of just coasting, I couldn't even enjoy my downtime because it was all downtime.  I constantly had the feeling that I should be doing something else (which was true).  Entertainment, relaxation, procrastination-- they just won't get you where you're going.  Take it from someone who knows.  (By the way, that reminds me of a cool song called "Let the Drummer Kick" by Citizen Cope.  Someone on Youtube made a really cool animation that goes with it.)  To belatedly finish the thought I was just working on: if you work when you need to, all the fun things you get to do become amazing blessings rather than desperate attempts to escape your gnawing conscience.  It's wonderful.

Speaking of music and wonderful, music is wonderful.  Almost everything I was given for Christmas has to do with music (or else food, but that's a different topic).  I think that should tell me something about music.  I care about it!  It's part of what God's called me to, and I want to be better at it and appreciate it more.

Speaking of absolutely nothing in particular, I had one of the greatest text message conversations of my life the other day.  I had been at my parents before going to a party, and afterwards my mom texted me asking how it was.  I told her it was pretty good and pretty much what I was expecting, and I asked her how her day was.  She told me four things she did that day and said that I wasn't being very descriptive.  That's when it hit me: men and women don't understand each other.

If you ask a guy how his day was, you will get an evaluation.  It will probably be short. If you ask a woman how her day was, you will get a description.  It may be quite long.

Obviously, neither side understands the question they're asking, so both end up vaguely dissatisfied with the answers they get.  I think I can solve the problem, though-- we just need to stop asking questions.  Next, I'll be tackling world hunger.  Believe it or not, I also do some of my best and most organized thinking late at night like this.  But tonight is a holiday.

Two last things, and then off to try to live for the rest of the year like Jesus really did come to live with us and die for us... and also to try not to forget the giver for the gifts.

1. Today at church we played O Holy Night, and it was a powerful moment of worship.  Less than 3 minutes later, we were playing Jingle Bell Rock... and there was nothing weird about that.  We praised God with all we had, and then we laughed and danced like crazy people.  Or put another way, we cared about something deeply and invested our hearts in it, and then we were able to have joy in the ridiculous and simple.  Before today, I wouldn't have thought that Jingle Bell Rock could be a worship song.  I think it was this morning.  I can't even believe I'm saying that.  But what if we honored God in that moment just as much as in the rest of the service?

2. Penguins are pretty much the most comical creatures alive.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!