El mundo

From a recent, yet not so recent reading of the novel El mundo by Juan José Millas:
An autobiography by the adult author through the perspective of his childhood. He is an inventor of sentences, characters, and stories, his father an inventor of instruments-in particular an electric scalpel capable of creating a wound and healing it at the same time as the blood vessels cauterize. While his father’s instrument was a medical scalpel, Juan Jose’s was the pen.

The blade of the pen, comfortable in the writer’s hand, carefully separates the woven strands of plant fiber with each stroke, each letter, each sentence, opening a small wound in the paper’s flesh, while simultaneously healing, healing the mind’s frustrations, healing the soul’s longings, healing the aches of the heart. Some are still fresh as my ink bleeds from the paper. I am writing my own autobiography.

(Many of these are older entries recently posted. Soon what I wrote will catch up to life, and life will catch up to what I write)

The rains came down and the floods went up...

...but the house on the rock stood still.

03/30/08
A thought I had today:
These last couple of days have been cold and stormy, with unsuspected snow. But the snow will melt. The storm, though bitterly cold, will pass and the water gathering will bring and nourish new life.

Last week (09/30/09), the unexpected storms returned.
The sky’s rainy eyes wept as the thunder-shook emotions followed the lightning’s chaotic path.
Probably a testament to the fact that God hears me--I said bring on the rain and...it came. The pounding rain has tried to break me, drown me, but instead it will fill my vessel and deepen my soul. Though storms will crumple the ocean’s surface, the Father of my earth and soul resounds: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Perception

Watching raindrops fall on a tree breaking from their spherical mold. The tree, however, remains unbroken, not unchanged. It grows from the water that falls sometimes forcefully, other times gently onto its bark, seeking the roots. The reflection on the other-hand becomes increasingly muddled and broken as each drop pierces the water's surface and scatters the tree's virtual image.

Real faith as compared to virtual faith...every so often new (and old) challenges distill like dew and release themselves from the celestial heavens. Other times, they condensate and burst from our mortal atmosphere. Either way I am wet. I wonder and even worry a little...okay A LOT. Mostly about my future, which uncovers fossils of the past from which I evolved. Who I am and will become feels tied between the unsinkable buoy and the anchor beneath the waves of where I came from. Will I be better and greater than that? Will I have your strength?

I CAN

The limitations exist only in my mind, the possibilities are endless because the Atonement is infinite. As offspring of God, the seeds of greatness are already planted. So bring on the rain, welcome the storms, test my faith. With increasing confidence, I refuse to break.

Nerbing

nerb (v.) - to use a noun as a verb

This term probably exists somewhere in the dictionary of literary akdhvua...but my inexperience in such areas are minimal (I just enrolled in freshman English my junior year [two years of AP English mean nothing when you get to college]), and learning that would devastate my creative confidence. --speaking especially to the two English majors who are currently my only followers

So for the time being I am going to follow the Shakespearean trend and invent my own words starting with this one.

Examples of nerbing:
"For some reason I have no problem working at 4 a.m. but I can't 'school' at 8 or even 'church' at 9"
"At school the 'little Nemoed' kid was 'shark baited'."
"Oh I totally 'Stophed' you!"
"I'm goin 'Lyndsi Shaein' today"

Since my creation's birth I have begun to recognize a lot more of his kind and I hope to pass this along as we enter a new era of literature and the arts--the Stoph

What's that smell?..

Frequently, a conversation with my sister and brother-in-law turns into a debate on health, fitness, and the like. I love to exercise and all, and tend to eat balanced meals--something healthy and not so healthy--but sometimes I question their information. This time our talk was turned to analyze the length of my armpit hair. They thought it would be a good idea that I trimmed it a bit. “Huh? No way, it’ll itch like crazy.”

Anyways today before getting in the shower I contemplated the idea and tried to imagine what kind of a difference it would make. What I didn’t expect is for my armpits to look like Will Smith’s buzzed flattop from his Fresh Prince years. And yeah...it itches. “Why’d I listen to them?” But then I was quickly grateful for not spilling how I skipped showering for a week after coming home from school. It wasn’t bad though, at least not as bad as it sounds. I preferred jumping in the pool. How do you think we men get by when we’re in the wilderness?

Treedom

04/08/09

There is this tree at the edge of a pond. The branches are thick and steady in the wind of change that blows around me, while the little branches--still young--quake as they try to find their place in the sky.

In its trunk run deep grooves, scars, and wrinkles of the past, each one rich with stories and experiences it wishes to tell if someone were around to listen. There are times it stands alone, but not today. I sit at its feet and hear the birds that once nested in the branches, the laughter of those who climbed its limbs, the scratching pens of poets and writers that sat in a daze upon its roots, and the sweet whisper of lovers it had witnessed scratch their names into its flesh.

What more will it have to say? The wind could not keep me away today, but it's now silent and awaits my return.

05/25/09

The seasons have changed and so has the tree. It is green again. I didn't know if I would ever see life in these branches, but it is alive, and I'm alive. Leaves fill in the empty spaces once felt and gather light from the summer sun. She cuddles me within her roots and I rest.

First line

I think the first post kind of sets the preview for what can be expected, so here it is:

I eat plants for fun.

Now the blogging begins...