Looking back through my journals and blogs (reading nearly back to Jul'08) has been an eye-opener, for sure. The best of my cleaning intentions ended today with me sitting on the floor, surrounded by mountains of (thankfully) clean laundry and stacks of textbooks, tracing my life through the truest course I know.
I don't usually recommend myself to a full-on review of the pieces of life I have chosen to record. For me, at least, re-reading lines from years ago is bittersweet. Admittedly, some segments are mostly just bitter. For as long as as I can remember, when life comes at me the hardest, I've tried to catch the emotions on paper, hoping to trap them in an ink-lined cage where they can be relatively harmless. Perusing them again, however, gives the emotions leeway to touch my soul again, and I find myself hurting for that girl. Wish I could tell her somehow that it gets better. That 21 doesn't feel that much different from 20. That it IS possible to get that A, the long nights are worth it. That Dr. Haluska is not only human, but also a friend. That what she wanted wouldn't have been good for her anyway.
Meh, sometimes I think I put too much stock into the written word. Of what value is it if I can write the words, but not speak them?
All this aside, I finally laid my procrastination to rest and figured up the tithe that I owe on all the money I've made since I came to Southern. A daunting task, and I can't lie, my bank account is going to take quite a setback over this. But, as I just explained to my heart sib, tithing isn't just a waste of time supporting ministers we don't like and funding a dying church. What Abbi chooses to do with my money is not my concern--I just have to make sure he gets it.
Ah, Sabbath. I love Sabbath. Welcome.
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