The thing about you is, when we’re here, together, I can close my eyes and try to imagine the perfect world—but here’s the thing; I can’t. The world I try to imagine won’t materialize; that perfection is just beyond my grasp. Then, just as my frustration starts to set in, something happens. The perfect world I’m trying so desperately to imagine starts to form—except, it is identical to the world I’m experiencing, as if my eyes weren’t closed at all. It’s just you and me, sitting together. That’s when I finally understand it: that perfect world isn’t out of reach at all, I’m just already experiencing it. There’s just something about that feeling: knowing you chose me. In a world where all your possibilities could lead you down any road—any road at all—you chose mine. You chose me, and that is what makes it the perfect world.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Sweatpants and Sin
So I came into Starbucks with the explicit purpose of blogging. Why? Hell if I know...but don't people do that? I'm sitting here thinking, "What can I write that will interest someone?" Then I land on it: me. People don't like me; I'm well aware of that. I'm snobby, standoffish, and selfish. I want things done my way because that's the right way (at least in my mind). I often offend people, but that doesn't bother me, so I guess that makes me an ass. Hey, don't zone out, there's going to be a profound point to this around the third paragraph.
I wore sweatpants to church on Sunday. People hated me--I know it. I wasn't dressed like they (the haters) were. Even more than that, I wasn't dressed even to the standard "teenage ugh" look that the haters somehow manage to cope with. I guess they've allowed their standards drop a little, but me showing up in sweatpants was like a Hispanic woman at a country club who wasn't accompanied by cleaning utensils. How could I so blatantly offend these elders, and God, of course. "God knows" I offended Him, too.
Here we are, the third paragraph: point-making time. It's not that I wore the sweatpants to offend anyone--and I seriously debated about that. I wore sweatpants because I didn't feel the need to impress my fellow church members, or God, for that matter. You see, in some kind of profound, twisted subconscious, I felt totally at ease in those sweats. And here's the kicker: somehow, in some perverse manner, I found that awe-inspiring. It reminds me that God looked at me in my worst possible state and said "I can work with that." Think about it; every sin that I will ever commit, God has already seen, and He's somehow managed to forgive them. The absolute majesty and supreme mercy of that statement blows my mind. He saw me in sweatpants and sin and said "You can do something for me." I'm not sure what it is--I might have already done it, but I hope not--but somehow He has a plan for me. I guess in order for me to seem less self-centered I could add that He has a plan for you, too. He's cool like that.
I wore sweatpants to church on Sunday. People hated me--I know it. I wasn't dressed like they (the haters) were. Even more than that, I wasn't dressed even to the standard "teenage ugh" look that the haters somehow manage to cope with. I guess they've allowed their standards drop a little, but me showing up in sweatpants was like a Hispanic woman at a country club who wasn't accompanied by cleaning utensils. How could I so blatantly offend these elders, and God, of course. "God knows" I offended Him, too.
Here we are, the third paragraph: point-making time. It's not that I wore the sweatpants to offend anyone--and I seriously debated about that. I wore sweatpants because I didn't feel the need to impress my fellow church members, or God, for that matter. You see, in some kind of profound, twisted subconscious, I felt totally at ease in those sweats. And here's the kicker: somehow, in some perverse manner, I found that awe-inspiring. It reminds me that God looked at me in my worst possible state and said "I can work with that." Think about it; every sin that I will ever commit, God has already seen, and He's somehow managed to forgive them. The absolute majesty and supreme mercy of that statement blows my mind. He saw me in sweatpants and sin and said "You can do something for me." I'm not sure what it is--I might have already done it, but I hope not--but somehow He has a plan for me. I guess in order for me to seem less self-centered I could add that He has a plan for you, too. He's cool like that.
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