Vanished.

For month's now, I have been searching for something that I lost. Mid-summer, it seemed to have walked off and left me for some other home, probably one superior. A warmer exterior, maybe more inviting, definitely more interesting, my Loss was probably searching for something unique. Some say adventure and risk call these things away from loved ones and from warmth. The anticipation of freedom and the possibility of hazards are far more enticing than my normal, traditional existence. Though I searched, it was to no avail. Days passed with no great luck, and the void in my being was not filled--no, it widened. I looked across Greensboro, but my item had since skipped town. Off to New York, I heard from it no more, the void grew to consume me and my emotions turned to sadness. Quickly, the feeling of loss mutated from sorrow into rage, and into a righteous anger at the callous heartlessness of my Loss. Oh, the audacity! Leaving me so lonely and broken, holding only the remains of my shattered heart. Shards of emotion lay devastated in my palms, the only remains of my so carefully opened heart. I trusted my Loss, I trusted so much. The many hours spent talking, eating, laughing, being merry, are now nothing more than dust crumbling through my fingers off of the cracked pieces of my heart. My heart, so gradually and carefully given to her, was smashed onto the rocks of disdain.

It could not end there, so hopelessly broken. My Loss, not so far away, began to return. Hoping for renewal, ready with forgiveness, I ran to embrace my Loss, and we were together once more. It was truly wonderful--laughing, talking, and sharing our emotions once again. So blindly did I run back again, sprinting gleefully towards the cliff from which I was to fall, once again deceived. I have asked myself, was it genuine? Did my Loss really want reconciliation. We can never know intentions, but once again I was thrust into a world of loss and distrust. For long now, I have been bitter. Many times, my mouth has opened with curses and jokes towards my Loss. How can I have been so unloving? Those who know me probably know the Loss, and the way that I speak of her. I am so guilty. I have been wronged, there is no doubt, but how can I be so unloving? Jokes and insults are much closer in my mind than words of warmth or kindness. I am quick to speak, and quick to anger, both the antonyms of love. For those who understand, I apologize to you for the times I have spoken ill of her. She is Papa's beloved and for that alone, I have no right to demean or insult his beautiful creation. Undoubtedly, more jokes will slip out, but I pray that the pure water of His forgiveness will begin to cleanse me of my petty grudges. Clean me of my impurities and my faults, and forgive me, for I have sinned against your beloved.


"He who restrains his words has knowledge, And he who has a cool spirit is a man of understanding." Proverbs 17:27

nate.

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On the Gambling of Spiders

Lying is a dirty gamble. The Russian Roulette of relationships, you never know when the lie will become uncovered. Must you give up the game when pinned to the wall? No, throw again, make another lie; you might win this time. This time you could be home free. Win the Jackpot and leave. What a relief. Soon enough, however, you'll be back at the tables drooling for another roll, new lies to satisfy your cravings. You lust for larceny. You dive for deceit. You will thrust your words through the epidermis, between the ribcage, and straight into the lungs; and with a new stab of malice, you tear the heart from cartilage, leaving its owner slashed with the sharp words of deceit.

Now, victorious in the Casino of Lies, you crawl through the dark opening, back into the cupboard. Your mouth drips with the blood of your victims, fresh from the open wounds caused by your pretense and trickery. Oh, for remorse! But no, you simply go back to spinning your web, your web of lies. The higher you go, the more intricate the pattern, but the faster you go, the more muddled the strands. Mucus drips onto the dishes over which you hover, suspended by the sticky residue coming from your abdomen. Careless of the ones you affect, cold-hearted towards the now heartless friends you used to cling to. They are gone. You have eaten them alive. Drunken on the elixir called deception, you knife and you stab, until all that is left in your friends are sparse drops of blood and good-will, laid waste by your treachery.

"Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive"

Flee from spiders, the gambling vermin drunk on lies and deception. Cleave to close friends, true friends. Friends who encourage and lift you up.

Be Wary

nate.

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An Ode to Christmas Cheer

(sung to the tune of O' Christmas Tree)

I have exams this awesome week
We get to study calc
My teachers give some awesome tests
but nothing like exams

I study long and hard all night
We worry lots and fill with fright

O exam week, O exam week
How lovely are your days


Thank you very much, I'll be here all week

Ha

nate.

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Holiday Mystery

As annual winter festivities grow closer and closer, the spirit of the unknown has begun to consume me with the holiday spirit. Now our den is filling with that wonderful evergreen aroma mixed with some peppermint and warm cookies wafting in from the kitchen. The red on my face slowly retreats from my cheeks as I step from the blistering cold into the confines of my home. Since the weather outside is frightful, the fire of home is so delightful, and the warmth of family becomes sweeter and sweeter. School work is more and more forgotten, as the callings of a good novel and some chilled eggnog pull me from numbers and symbols into a world of fiction.

Walking out of my white garage, I enter into the bleak atmosphere of white sky and brown trees whose leaves have fled into the pile in our coul-de-sac. The once vibrant yellows and reds have been washed from the panorama, and the Great Artist paints with new emotions--desolation with a hint of homeliness. Christmastime is the season of home and family. Outside our wooden front door, Nature's beast rears its ugly head to form a sneering glare; he challenges us to face him and his icy breath or his spindly fingers as barren trees. We celebrate, enjoy our company, and feast ourselves on the chocolate, the gravy, the peppermint, the ginger bread and hundreds of other flavors, never once finding need to fear the depression of our winter surroundings. Riding home from school today lost in Coldplay's ethereal landscapes, I felt.

My warm Buick was suddenly attacked by a torrent of emotion, in which I felt the great Holiday mystery. How can we be so warm, when everywhere it is cold? Our hands are warmed by the quiet blaze in the hearth, our stomachs by the dark heat of hot chocolate and flavored coffee, and our hearts by the company of our dearest friends and family. There is no question that we are warm, but there is such danger! Nature pounds on my door and breaks into my house to steal warmth and happiness, to compromise those things for which we fought so dearly with our central heating system. It is, however, not the defeat of warmth when we feel this cold, for cold is really the absense of heat. Cold does not exist!! To this, we must applaud, for the Great Artist has no true enemy, no foe to hold him back. Cold is not real, and that is what we celebrate.

Evil is simply the absense of good, and God is omnipresent. There is no chance for cold darkness when we are wrapped in the love of Papa. The Holiday mystery is but the mystery of godliness--how our Great Lover choses to enclose us with his great arms, no matter how cold me might be. He absorbs our cold, so that we might be warm. I don't understand, but I love it. Just like I love the holidays.

nate.

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Grrrr

As a correlary to Chelsea's post on Calculus, I felt compelled to write a biting critique of my Calculus class. Calculus is:

Hard to Understand
Work-Intensive
Hard to Visualize
Hard to Conceptualize
Not Rewarding
Stressful

Hmm... there are six negative aspects of Calculus, now I will list the benefits of the class:

......
.....

Funny thing, I can't seem to think of any. There is always the argument that this class is building perseverance, problem solving, and a good work ethic--a theory to which I fully ascribe for math in general. Calculus, however, is frustrating. I have unleashed more anger as a result of Calculus than any class ever before. More grunts of frustration, more hitting things, more screaming in irritation and writhing in agony than ever before. Hard work has taken me this far in Math, but I feel my grasp on Math slowly oozing from my fingers into a pile of rotten mush that is Calculus. The steaming heap of rot has caused me more headaches than are healthy and has not done much to make me a better person. I'm just a more angry person. Second semester, please hasten so I will not have to suffer under such pressure any longer. Exams, then its cruising time.

nate.

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A New Day

The red-tinted sun slowly sneaked over drowsy, snow-covered peaks as a new day began to break over the little town of Paradise. Joseph Greene lifted his head from the folds of his Bible and spoke a quiet "Amen" as he smiled softly at Papa's wonderful masterpiece--daybreak. Streaks of light rushed into the small kitchen, and he moved his eyes to stare out the window. It was an emotive sight, as the mountain peaks were gilded with the golden luster of a fresh sunrise. Day had arrived. The dusty surface of main street was quickly thrust airborne as the workday accelerated into movement. Joseph's countenance, which had been so highly raised, became sullen, as the workday was all business and often full of stress.

Somewhere across town, a car screeched to a destructive crunch, and someone's collie began to bark. Joseph let out a deep sigh and shook his head at his ever-shifting world.
Two years ago, there were no cars here! Oh, how peaceful was life then. No noise, no accidents, no trouble...
Nevertheless, he pushed open his ambled down the wooden steps to his white Accord parked on the street. As he reached for the handle, he noticed an unusual light in his car. Joseph squinted through the window, only to find a small pile of glass in the passenger seat, and a spot of light rushing in through the whole in his back window.
Are you kidding me?? What have I done to deserve this? If I find out who did this...

nate.

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