I feel lost sometimes, as if the world is going on around me and I’m watching it from afar. I want to go back and push pause on the videotape of my life at age 12. When the most we had to worry about was what time mom would call us in, and NOT money, fame, power, greed, sex, politics, or religion. Life was carefree. A cardboard box could be a plane, boat, or spaceship. Now a cardboard box is used as something to pack past memories in or just another convenient trash receptacle. Someone asked me today my thoughts of what Heaven is going to be like, and I went into some pseudo-religious, q...

What is society that I must follow its “imaginary hand” rules? I am presently reading a book that a friend asked me to read called “The Giver,” written by Lois Lowry. It reminds of a young Huxley before “A Brave New World.” The story is fundamentally the same: A Utopian society, bothered by a riff of mis-intelligence, someone catches on, must suffer through pain due to truth. The whole story is told in order that one might question themselves as to why they follow rules established by the civil “norm.” Don’t think this applies to you? Well it does. Have you ever wanted to fol...

“Life is a hospital where each patient is possesed by the desire to change beds. This one would like to suffer facing the stove, that one believes that he would be cured next to the window. It seems to me that I would always be will where I am not, and this question of moving is one that I will discuss endlessly with my soul.” — Charles Baudelaire Did he read my mind? Everywhere is my hospital bed. I move here/there and I think someone somewhere else is finding ecstasy elsewhere. Contentment evades me like the women of my dreams, like fame, like money, like power, like intell...

Well, what is it that I am thinking about? I’ll give you a hint. For any of you who have been with me from the beginning, you know that I am sentimental. I am emotional. Basically, I’m a girl. But not. What does that mean? It means that I don’t prescribe to this culture where because I am a man I am not allowed to show emotion beyond grunting and huffing. I’m not supposed to express vulnerability. Well, that’s just stupid to me. If God had not wanted me to express my full range of emotions at any given time then He wouldn’t have given them to me in the first...

Well it has been a few days since my last post..too many days and, since then, a WHOLE heck of a lot has happened. Here is such, but in no particular order: UPDATE #1 My grandmother, Emma Ellen Morrison, passed away last Sunday at the age of 74 (1930-2005). She is immensley missed by me. The following is the eulogy that I read at her funeral. It was extremely hard to write and almost impossible to get through reading. It was written on behalf of all of her 11 grandchildren, I was her first grandson and took it upon myself to present this: The term grandmother is an evocative one. It conjures u...