I remember

This is my work office. This is me...pretty much all the time now. In an office drinking a meal deal or packaged sandwich. Wasting my cash. This is a sad but true existence...but I'm not unhappy.
I pop into the smoothie shop up the road. I say hello engage in a bit of freindly banter with the sports science nutriitionist behind the counter and wonder if it's all an act or if she truly is this friendly with everyone...the i begin to wonder whether there are any other twentysomething guys in guildford that wonder into the smoothie shop...not because theyre concerned about their physical upkeep but because they want their day to be uplifted by that little ray of sunshine behind the counter.

I bought appletise this morning. A can. I remember the old school. When appletise was gold dust. The nectar of the gods. About once a fortnight I would get to walk around with my parents on a saturday morning in newport on the island and i would eat a sugar cube...a cheese scone...maybe another sugar cube and then my bottle of appletise. I couldn;t have coke because that rotted my teeth and made me hiper as anything. Just tdrinking the stuff I can remember the sights...the crooked floorboards of this coffee shop we used to go to as a family...the staff dressed up in 1930's maids uniforms...the sneeze guard...the cakes so tantalisingly placed behind the screen calling out to me. So many different ones...which would I stuff my face with first?
But i did not.
I would sit down. My family would sit down. A prehistoric-like game of shotgun would go on between me and my sisters as to who got to sit in the chait with the arms.
The big chair.

I played at this talent exhibition in woking last night. There were many displays of dedication and some great things to be seen.
The thing that moved me the most...strangely enough yes...I was moved...was this school choir. They were exactly like the choir I was in in year 5. And I could just imagine my parents watching us. The proud smiles on their faces. I mean...me and the people I was sat with were laughing at little bits and what not...
My kids are gonna be extravagant. HA.
I don;t want my kids to be afraid of displaying their talents...My kids can sing dance or play and go as far as they want...but I pray I dont use my kid as a channel of my own frustration...that I didn;t go as far as I wanted...


Life is good.

God is good.

Have you ever...

Gone out on payday...and bought some brand spanking, lovely new shoes?
Then you stop off in a park...or work...or starbucks and try your newly purchased shoes out for size. You didn;t want to try them on in the shop because when you shop you shop with a great sense of confidence. A smirk on your face that indicates you know what the cr@p you're doing.
You don't discard of your old shoes right away though. They stay in the box. And you carry your smeel y old shoes around in a brand spanking new box the whole day. You ever noticed that your old shoes, however similar to the new ones, never ever quite fit into the new box quite right?

I bought a cardigan today...I don;t have that much awareness when it comes to colour co-ordination

Paint...go on...PAINT!!

From one hectic combination of omployment to another. I've gone from working 6 days a week between Mcdonalds and wesley owen to working 6 days a week between wesley Owen and working as a research assistant on campus for the people who I was doing the sleep study for.

It's something quite cool to put on your CV and will be a welcome change.

My room in the new place to be is not looking that good at the moment. I have my bed in one corner, a stack of boxes with the crap that before you move you tell yourself you'll be able to get rid of...but can;t because it bears some tiny emotional significance, a suitcase with some clean clothes and a pile of dirty clothes that have settled into roughly a third of the floor space.
It;s not that I can;t pile them up...I'm not that lazy...there are really that many clothes.
There are a couple of things that I can;t wait to get doing.
You shall find in due course.

I have forgotten how to play football.

I have forgotten how to write.

Lesson: keep in the habit of doing things regularly...otherwise you;ll forget how to do them.

How do you stop being tired?

I wonder how many people feel that they have been done a great dis-service by god.

I wonder how many people reject god because of the picture that has been painted for them by the so-called shepherds.

What is my picture? I don;t know.

I just watched a short dvd which is part of a series called Nooma.

The word Nooma is an English phonetic spelling of the Greek word pneuma, which is commonly translated to “spirit” or “breath”.

In this short film the author, Rob Bell, tells the story of a stolen white ball. His eldest son stole the ball from a family assumedly while he was visiting. When questioned about the ball he reacts in a somewhat questionable manner. Acting strangely denying all knowledge of this ball.

Days later the boys are at home with their mother playing when a fight erupts. The younger son gets hit and runs to mum.

Again the older son denies the accusation of committing the act of hitting.

His mother calmly responds 'just like you didn;t know about the white ball?'.

Busted.

He then proceeds to run and hide.

Then dad comes home and searches for his son. Not in his bedrooms. Not in his brothers bedroom. Not in the bathroom. But under the covers of his parents bed.
Dad draws the covers back (and here is what I'm getting at. This is what rang clear with me) and his son has a choice. He can either pull the covers back over and hide or he can lie there on the bed exposed to his dad. He sits on his bed with his son just saying 'There's nothing you could do that would make me love you any less'.

I have spent years running and hiding from god. Getting tattoos to reassure myself of gods presence, and yet still making the same mistakes.

And approximately 5-6 years after all of this started I'm still on the run.

Imagine a bank robber. Smashing through the front door of a bank in his prime. He seizes what isn;t his and makes a dash for it.

Years later still on the run he has grown weary and tired. Spent his winnings from that fateful day.

Bottom line. I don;t know how to get right.

I don;t know how to make it right.