random thoughts...sports at midnight; wiffleball, glow in the dark golf, candlelight bowling...driving through the city on a clear night, i can see the lights from every window, the full moon smiles...at sunset, the clouds are transparent, edges glowing...walking the halls at school, a sense of urgency always; i feel like i should be wearing a siren and flashing lights...the beauitful simplicity of wood grain, the stories in the leaves and rings, i will plant a tree for every child...some days feeling lost, wondering where i'm supposed to be, is it right where i'm at or have i drifted off course?...my eyes get so tired sometimes they tingle and itch, as if the cornea were separating from the rest of my eye, yet my mind is still wide awake...i need to try harder, who knew being yourself was a full time job?

A cold front pushes in, rain, hail, thunder and lightning; energy from above in so many forms, sweeping across the ground, wind rippling through the window screen, and the hair on my arms stands on end, static and the cool breeze combining to bring my blood to life; i want to be in the clouds to watch it all, be smashed into a million droplets and come pouring down; surrender to the electricity in the air and burn up in the atmosphere, taking trees and power lines with me; the force and violence of one storm, the peace that comes after it, is enough for an entire lifetime.

What could I possibly have to say at this late hour? Yet, strangely, I do some of my best thinking when my brain should be in the "off" position.

My sleep debt finally caught up to me this week, yet now I can't sleep again. I'm not particularly amused.

Today I put pictures of my cats in frames my uncle gave me quite some time ago. Actually, I think I received the frames around the same time I last saw my cats. I miss them. Sometimes I miss my pets more than I miss certain humans. Is that bad? Or does that happen to everyone at some point?

A few gripes: I don't get paid enough. The sunlight is going away sooner. People who don't know how to drive. People who are too lazy to put their shopping carts back where they belong. Lousy presidential candidates. The stupidity of the war on drugs. Ameritech's lackluster service. Broken promises. The difficult process of losing one's gut. Chicago radio sucks.

A few bright spots: The lake on a windy day. The moon shining behind rippled clouds. French toast. The smell of freshly cut grass. People who smile as they walk past. People who take responsibility for their actions. Friends who call back. A good pun. Internet radio. Wallace and Grommit. Candles flickering in the breeze.

Identity is such a persistent yet fragile thing. People will remember you for years for something you said or did, even if it was uncharacteristic of you, while never really knowing who you really are. Some days, you don't even know yourself. You try to create your identity for fear someone else will do it for you, but it seems an impossible task sometimes. I want to be remembered for the things I did, yet I want people to forget some of those things; you can't have it both ways. And I want to know what people think of me, who they think I am, but at the same time, I don't want to know, because I have a tendency to re-shape myself into who they think I am supposed to be, and it never works.

It feels like an autumn morning. The air has a crisp chill to it, and the sunrise was a spectacle of purple and orange. Now, the sunlight is cutting through my window, highlighting the dust that floats around, little airborne dustmites being fried by the light. Leaf shadows flicker and reflect off of me as I sit here, halfway through my cup of coffee, a few moments from starting my work-day. I wonder how many promises I will keep today?

If you go to church every Sunday does that make you a better person? Maybe organized religions should work harder to realize that the house of god is the heart, not the church. That any moment we spend doing the right thing is in fact the best preaching that anyone can do. People learn by example; if you show a child how to hurt, it makes the child more capable of hurting. If you teach them the arts of argument, deceit, or even something as benign as sarcasm, then they will understand how to use those arts themselves. Religion should focus more on being at peace with the self; we are most at peace when we know we have been faithful to our ideals, our best intentions, our word. We may do wrong, we may be chastised, but those who are lost and broken are the ones who have no grounds on which to chastise themselves, for they have lost sight of what they believe in, of the good that they are capable of.

I don't go to church. I work, and live, and try to be helpful, and useful, and dependable. I make mistakes, all the time, and sometimes I dwell on them...because I'm still learning that forgiveness starts with me, and that nobody else is really responsible for forgiving me except myself; not even god. When people ask for god's forgiveness, perhaps what they really want is the strength to forgive themselves, and put their mistakes behind them, and move on. I'm afraid, sometimes, when I look around, and see a culture that preaches forgiveness, but shows much more interest in blame. Why is it so bad to take responsibility for your actions, learn from them, and move on? When will we recognize the courage it takes to do that in this world, and start teaching our children that the true heroes and role models are the people who aren't afraid to admit that they were wrong?

Going to church doesn't make you a better person. You are a better person simply by making the choice to be better, and working at it every day. Many religions provide perfectly good instructions on how to be a better person, but you still have to work at it, and do it in the way that makes the most sense to you. Maybe that's why I never had much use for weekly visits to church; I don't need to be preached to or forgiven, not when I know the difference between right and wrong and reserve the privilege of my own forgiveness.

So I have this habit of being friends with my ex-es. What kind of person does that make me? Is it weak? Is it strong? But they all know me so well, and it's so hard to throw that away. They know how I like my coffee, my favorite musicians, my poems, my dreams, my heart turned inside-out. How can you know a person so well and just give that up? It's so difficult to know people, it seems, it takes time, and people guard their time so well...how much of my time have I given away? You only get so much, isn't it the ultimate sacrifice?

Been away for a while. Uninspired. Nothing worse than that. Busy with grad school. Busy trying to reconcile the messes in my life. So much fun. Now, back to this little outlet of nonsense. I think I'll vote for myself in November. What if everyone did that? The entire nation, just writing themselves onto the ballot. That would send a message. It's my life, and I'll take control of it, thank you very much. Shakespeare said, first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. No. They can wait. Let's rid ourselves of the politicians first. They are the greater evil. Public servants? No. They serve themselves. Don't we all? So why are we ever surprised that they do what's good for them? It's a natural act. Charity, indeed, begins at home.