Some more luminous thoughts on sleep

I used to be a night person. A crawler of the mundo de la noche, a breather of the yoru kuukis. However, as cool as I always thought that made me, all artistic and sleepless and stuff, I am finding that I have the most energy, vigor, and inspiration in the morning. That is, AFTER I have managed to creep out from under the spell of the absolute and all-encompassing desire to go back to sleep.
This is my theory, for all you people who have lost your zest for life: Waking up early equals VITALITY. Um, waking up early and...managing to stay awake.
Or, for those who are not able to wake up early, I find that jumping out of bed and putting your hand to as many tiny tasks as possible right in the early morning is a good start. I used to love to be sluggish and crawl back in bed for any spare fifteen minutes that I had until lunch time, but that usually keeps me on a sluggish wavelength all day, which is not very condusive to maximizing, being a professional, and even just plain getting anything at all done. It's the sort of lifestyle that finds me still wearing my pajama pants at dinner time, my room a constant mess, and five half-empty cups of cold coffee sitting on various perches around the house (and yes, I must admit, they ARE my cups, and they are quite yucky to look at).
So although I still indulge in a sluggish morning now and then (since sluggishness is a difficult habit to get rid of. Not as easy as getting rid of a slug with a bit of salt...) I am trying to jump out of bed with my resolve in a fist and a song in my soul.
Join me, non-morning people, in this self-bludgeon of morning-ness. I wouldn't feel so bad if I knew that I wasn't the only one who silently and creepily smiles at everyone in the morning because she hasn't peeled her mouth open yet (lubricated it with coffee and stretched it with a few good yawns), and the only one who thinks messed up hair and WILD bangs is a cool and cozy look for morning devotions. Is there anyone else that yawns ALL the way through reading out loud during devotions? Cause no one else in my home does, and I yawn like every other sentence. This is quite vexatious.
Look out, Lethargy. I hope to one day be a mighty morning mushi.

Lookee here

Found this t-shirt in a store the other day and got Dan the man to hold it up for me while I shot it full of holes with my cell phone.
And you thought you were living in American. Psh.

Stunned

The Lord is always faithful to bring us across the things in life that serve as roadsigns, a little reminder that life is waiting to be remembered. The warning signs that remind us that time isn't easily persuaded, and stopping is sometimes the only way to go. The stoplights that remind us how transient things are--that there is just as much green as there is red, in the end. And when we wonder, "will things ever change?" we can remember that they always have and always will.
I'm not often seen as an emotional, whimsical sort of character, but I'm the dangerous sort of person that, when carried off by the occasional fancy, stays afar off entagled with the fancy longer than some of the more flighty fellows. So either way you cut it, I'm just as wrong and right, stupid and smart, as the rest of the people who change sides more often. I've always felt sort of middle-of-the-road, inspired to do too much until I realize that inspiration is not the master of time, and nowadays I more or less submit to time.
But I feel very strongly and very tangibly, things that I think I can almost see as I begin to feel them. I can feel them like a fist turning a knob, like paper going into a printer. I never actually FELT very good with words, because the words always seemed so formless in comparison to an idea that ricochets back and forth and jumps and stretches and and grows and rises and falls. I probably got a fair bit into figuring out how to use words just because of my stubborn belief in the idea that everything can be healed, fixed, and made right, if everyone put their feelings into words.
But more nowadays, it feels like beating against a brick wall. Nothing heroic--more or less downright stupid. I'm starting to realize that sometimes people need to protect themselves. Sometimes a mind can't handle the ideas out of the complicated structure of another mind. Sometimes people need to lie and don't realize they're doing it. Sometimes...especially in matters that hold our heart and our head and bonk them together for being naughty, like two OC boys who refuse to apologize to each other (or do, but never mean it), no amount of words will fix anything. That's not cynical. It's just true.
It's idealistic to think that yapping away at something can fix it all of the time. The most priceless things that we ever realize are the things that we finally make sense of when we're sitting down, out of breath, unconscious, paralyzed. We go through life picking up the puzzle pieces, and only when we drop them and see them scatter across the ground do we realize that we need to get on our knees and piece them together. Only when we shut up, do we realize the things that are really worth saying.
I definitely talk more about things than I do things, because, let's face it, it takes less time to talk about something than it does to do it, and a) I've got too many ideas to do at once, b) I'm a lazy nutcase, and c) No one likes to let a good idea pass without letting people know they've had it. So I (along with many other idealistic youngsters) have a mouth with unlimited visiting hours and the contents of a petting zoo.
Today there are things that make me stop and think about the beauty of being quiet. Quietly working and quietly taking a break. Quietly changing one's mind. Quietly dancing in the dark. Quietly praying. Quietly holding a hand. Quietly listening to the things people have to say. Quietly being quiet.
That's not to say that I'm going to become the most quiet and serene person on the planet. I've tried it, it's not possible, and it's not the way Jesus wants me to go. I envy the people who have a calling of quietness and wisdom; I seem fated to be be always saying twice as much as them and being wrong twice as often. But I'm grasping more the concept of wasting less time, wasting fewer words.
I had this sort of picture in my mind today, of dying and being a pot of ashes. Just a few grams of matter, a few handfuls to sprinkle. Every single grain would matter then, wouldn't it. Every leaf I landed on, every droplet that fell on me and merged me with other little particles of dust. I wouldn't be me, walking as I always have--I would be me, quietly falling to the ground. And I thought, maybe that's something I should be doing more often in my life--quietly falling to the ground.
So coming here to this stoplight has helped me to realize that stoplights are opportunities--a chance to put in a CD, a chance to look at the roadmap, a chance to poke a hole into a coffee and take a long draw. Going can become a pure waste of time when you're not also stopping enough. We need to have a tumble to land our faces on the concrete and get a good look at terra firma, from whence we've come, and where we're going, and the road that will take us there.
There's another thing words are no good for--expressing the deeply overwhelming love that I have for Jesus that grows and doubles with every day. The thrilling feeling of being forever and firmly fixed to My Lord, My Lover.
This is me, quietly falling to the ground.

A nugget of inspiration.

I am having a moment of quiet sneakiness at my office desk. It is right now 9:49 in the evening, and my freenite, and I am sitting here in the office contemplating finishing off a little bottle of coke that has been resting half-full in my room for about 2 weeks, waiting for me to feel healthy enough that I have enough confidence to saturate my health with unhealthiness once again (the cycle of heaven and hell that we are hurtling through like a tumble in a washing machine).

I have a sneaky feeling that people walking outside in the hallway are looking at me and thinking "God bless Florence, she's still working!" But they are not saying anything, and are only smiling mutely at me. I am smiling mutely back, sometimes with a dumb twinkle in my eye (A function I only use every so often because I am saving charm-electricity). I feel like I am SOOO clever I could jump through the roof, because I am actually NOT working, but sitting here and typing a SUPER dumb post on my blog (which is, truly and shamelessly, one of the most super dumb indulgences in my life, after the coke), which is probably the worst waste of time ever. I am such a conflicted character; whilst I often am actually working here on hardcore work-things at this hour, tonight, I am serenely and guiltlessly typing out a stupid blog post. And while the two activities are about as different as night and day (smart and stupid, good and evil, etc.) I am perfectly satisfied and fulfilled doing both/either.
Actually, there are times that the blog posts do not satisfy me and the work does not satisfy me, but rarely ever both at the same time. I am usually satisfied by something, but my brain is so small that I need to concentrate solely on one thing in order to glean satisfactory amounts of satisfaction from it. So vice-versa things will ever be, but this is life (the cycle of heaven and hell that we are hurtling through like a tumble in a washing machine).

Quick n' Easy

I won't pretend that you are bored enough to have been checking this blog very many times in the past few days, but if you happen to love me enough to care about what I'm up to, I am fervently honored and...ashamed that there has been nothing new to see.
Here is something to tide you over. Some quick 'n easy blog material.

Smoked a cigarette: Yes.
Crashed a friend’s car: No.
Stolen a car: No.
Been in love: Yes.
Been dumped: No.
Shoplifted: Yes.
Been fired: No.
Been in a fist fight: ...not one where anyone ended up hurting.
Snuck out of your parent’s house: Sure.
Had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back: Yes.
Been arrested: No.
Gone on a blind date: No.
Lied to a friend: Yes.
Skipped school: Course.
Seen someone die: THAT TIME WE SAW THOSE PEOPLE DROWNING.
Had a crush on one of your internet friends: Oh Lord yes.
Been to Canada: No.
Been to Mexico: No.
Been on a plane: Never.
Purposely set a part of yourself on fire: Yes.
Eaten sushi: No kidding.
Been jet-skiing: No.
Met someone in person from the internet: Course.
Been moshing at a concert: Not...really.
Taken pain killers: Lots, for my ears.
Loved and missed someone: Ugh.
Made a snow angel: Never.
Had a tea party: Yep, a truly cultured kid.
Flown a kite: Yaaaaaah. Well I remember our family owning some of those big plastic kites, but I don't know if I ever personally flew them. If I ever did, it would've been with my Dad's help (I'm kind of retarded.)
Built a sand castle: Yes.
Gone puddle jumping: Huh? I've jumped around outside in the rain... do people call it puddle jumping? What is that?
Played dress up: Sure.
Jumped in a pile of leaves: Yes!
Gone sledding: Yes.
Cheated while playing a game: Yes.
Been lonely: Hmmmyes.
Fallen asleep at work or school: Yes!!!!
Used a fake ID: No.
Watched a sun set: Yes.
Felt an earthquake: Course. All the time.
Slept beneath the stars: Never for very long.
Been misunderstood: Hasn't everyone? What is this, a question to make me feel singularly mistreated?
Petted a reindeer/goat: Yes. What are zoos for?
Run a red light/stop sign: Jaywalking? Heh.
Been suspended from school: No. What kind of punishment is that? Haaaaa... Sort of equivalent to standing with your nose against the wall, I guess.
Been in a car accident: Yes..Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night: How much is a pint? And no I don't think so.
Had deja vu: Not so often.
Danced in the moonlight: ...Sure. Hahaha this is one of the most bogus questions I've ever seen. Who hasn't?
Liked the way you looked at least at one point in time: ...for a few minutes...? A few hours...? Like...a particular hairstyle? Huh? You mean...was satisfied with my appearance for a whole period of my lifetime? I'm making this question more complicated than it needs to be; let's just say never entirely.
Witnessed a crime: Yes.
Been obsessed with post-it notes: I've got way too many of them in all shapes and sizes. And a post-it machine on my desk surrounded by stacks of post-its in all different colors.
Been lost: Never severely. Always knew how to get myself someplace where I could find my way home.
Been on the opposite side of the country: ...What's that, like Ichikawa-ken? Maybe!
Cried yourself to sleep: Not since I had a dream that my Mom died of cancer. Not sure how old I was, maybe 8 or 9. That was rough.
Recently colored with crayons: Crayons are good-for-nuthin.
Sung karaoke: Yaaaaaa.
Paid for a meal with only coins: ...who remembers this kind of stuff? Maybe...McDonalds??
Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t: Always. My resolve is the pits.
Made prank phone calls: Just once on April Fools, to my best friend who should've known better.
Been kissed under the mistletoe by your boy/girlfriend: WHAT DOES MISTLETOE LOOK LIKE?
Watched the sun rise with someone you care about: Care...about. Yes.
Blown bubbles: Soap bubbles? Gum bubbles? Done em all, baby.
Made a bonfire on the beach: Yes.
Laughed so hard you peed your pants: ...No...what is that??
Cheated on a test: Yes.
Been kissed by someone you didn’t like: Sure. I'm just sort of yorigonomi shinai.
Gone skinny dipping in a pool: Not in a pool.