Sunday, March 14, 2010


Today began when we got home from the tournament. It was raining. Then there was a five hour period where nothing happened because I was sleeping. I had to get up early so that I could go to church and do powerpoint. It was still raining. At church, while walking downstairs turning the TV's on, I noticed that there were boxes of free books outside the church library. I got a copy of Desiring God by John Piper. I didn't pay much attention during the sermon (both times) because there weren't any powerpoint slides for that so I didn't have to pay attention. I read the first chapter and Appendix 4 of Desiring God. I drove home in the rain, while listening to No Line on the Horizon. My grandma (the awesome one) and my dad's Aunt Linda are visiting, I said hi. I made it my goal to make it through the day without napping (because it only makes things worse, in the long run)

...needless to say, I'm very tired for having succeeded. I watched Psyche. I caught up on email and youtube subscriptions. I read some more. I made a playlist in iTunes, which I don't know what to call (it has a mix of emotions, I'm not sure which one is dominant) I tried three different times to shoot the rough footage for my first video, but something was wrong with the sound each time (as in, there wasn't any)(and no, andrew, it wasn't a line in setting) I'm going to re-shoot tomorrow, and the sound problem is actually okay, because I'm getting better at concisely expressing the thoughts.

I went back to church to do powerpoint for the evening service (it was still raining) Some of the roads were had rivers running across them. Some of them were closed. I was late to church. I drove back home (in the rain) and had dinner and ate desert while listening to adults talk. I got tired and went upstairs to play guitar. I'm thinking vaguely about the Open. Detachedly. It's weird, it feels like it ended a long time ago, but it wasn't even twenty-four hours ago that I was just leaving Gordon. I thought of a line for a poem. Or a song. I never know which it is I'm writing anymore, poems or songs.

:breathes: :remembering: (it's strange, I feel like I'm calling up memories of the tournament just as much as memories of today.)

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