Friday, November 14, 2003
just spent the last 15 minutes browsing through people's blogs: chris's worry about calculating CAP with a D (which my dearest, isn't going to happen), sweet pea's, kev's un-updated blog (eh...no more excuses ah, exams over!) and some other random people's. and i wonder, do people write differently when they know other people are going to be reading what they write? i thought i would, and i guess i still do to a certain extent. but i never thought i'd lapse into my "it's darkness out there" kind of non-sensical prose when i know the whole world could read it. did you read the one about a mom keying in her son's name into a search engine and it turning up his blog? (courtesy vic). he was horrified, to say the least...he was in the habit of doing stuff his mom never even dreamed of. and i guess if my mom found this blog on a search engine, i would be ok with it, but is that only because i don't say as much as i could be saying? in saying this, i think i've said too much. got to reserve some form of protection...put your life on display, but keep something back just in case. turn your life into html, and what's left? nothing that can't be copied and pasted, edited and posted and published and totally taken out of context and misunderstood.
totally abrupt change of subject: my knee is sore...it hasn't bothered me for a while, but today i thought i should go check up the name of the condition. i hate that word, makes me sound like i suffer from a chronic illness, which in a way it is, but it's nothing that deserves to be called chronic. anyway, it's called multiple exostosis...big name, fancy schmancy...all i know is it hurts, and it shouldn't. i'm young and strong, my body at my command...or is it? maybe God's reminding me my body is his holy temple, not my wonderland (nod to john mayer). i'm grateful at least it only bothers me once in a long long while, and i've never had to suffer like mom did because of her extra bones. am i some kind of freak? i know the right answer to that question, do i believe it?
"i praise you because i am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, i know that full well.
my frame was not hidden from you
when i was made in the secret place
when i was woven together in the depths of the earth
your eyes saw my unformed body
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be"
now that's true poetry. i wish one day i could write something like that, something so God-inspired the words last till the end of time. what am i saying, only God's word will last for eternity. does that mean everything i've written will fade to dust one day? or is everything i've ever written being carbon-copied somewhere in heaven, to be read back to me later, so that i either blush in shame, faint in horror, or laugh in amusement at my sorry self? i think i need to get away, i'm losing myself in this blog-land...after a while nothing seems real anymore. as i write my story i make it up, i start to live what i write. which came first, chicken or egg, does it matter?
darn the knee.
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totally abrupt change of subject: my knee is sore...it hasn't bothered me for a while, but today i thought i should go check up the name of the condition. i hate that word, makes me sound like i suffer from a chronic illness, which in a way it is, but it's nothing that deserves to be called chronic. anyway, it's called multiple exostosis...big name, fancy schmancy...all i know is it hurts, and it shouldn't. i'm young and strong, my body at my command...or is it? maybe God's reminding me my body is his holy temple, not my wonderland (nod to john mayer). i'm grateful at least it only bothers me once in a long long while, and i've never had to suffer like mom did because of her extra bones. am i some kind of freak? i know the right answer to that question, do i believe it?
"i praise you because i am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, i know that full well.
my frame was not hidden from you
when i was made in the secret place
when i was woven together in the depths of the earth
your eyes saw my unformed body
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be"
now that's true poetry. i wish one day i could write something like that, something so God-inspired the words last till the end of time. what am i saying, only God's word will last for eternity. does that mean everything i've written will fade to dust one day? or is everything i've ever written being carbon-copied somewhere in heaven, to be read back to me later, so that i either blush in shame, faint in horror, or laugh in amusement at my sorry self? i think i need to get away, i'm losing myself in this blog-land...after a while nothing seems real anymore. as i write my story i make it up, i start to live what i write. which came first, chicken or egg, does it matter?
darn the knee.
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