Food for thought?

Now, I normally hate chain e-mails, but every few years or so a decent one comes into my inbox, and I find it mentally stimulating. This is one such case, it kinda sent chills down my spine. This essay was allegedly written by 17 year-old Brian Moore for a high school paper asking him to describe heaven. It was also allegedly written 2 months before he died.

Anyhow, here it is for your viewing pleasure, with everything but the essay cut (either I felt it was evidence I could not verify, or it was a personal interpretation).


Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it... The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to
cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room.. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."

The right side of the bed

I woke up this morning, and quite possibly for the first time on the correct side of the bed after so many years. I've been sitting on the idea of writing some sort of blog or post or something along those lines for a while, but I've never thought what I had to say good enough, or at least good enough for people to read. I'm writing now because because I feel this is good enough for me. Some parts of me want this to be read by everyone, other parts want this to be read by only a few people, and some other parts don't give a hoot who reads this, just so long as I get my thoughts written down somewhere that can be accessed at a later date.

So, in this note, I'm not trying to be pompous and say that I am correct (although some that have seen me at my most indignant moments might say otherwise). I am merely stating observations that I found relevant to my life, and those of others whose lives I have come in contact with in the past few months to a year, maybe more. Yes, I suppose I'd like comments, critiques, praise (who doesn't at some point), but mainly I'd like this to be read, and I'd like to know that it was read, and I'd like to know if anyone actually felt like I said something here (not so much ego, more curiosity).

As some people know, my experiences in the past almost year has been unlike any other time in my, albeit short, lifetime. I've seen some of the lows a person can reach (especially in myself), and I've seen how that can affect the people around someone. I've observed how even the most rotten and disgusting thing can bear fruit and life, much like a rotting log or carcass can house or feed other creatures. I've learned that life is a complicated thing, and the laws of Equivalent Exchange do work, although in some ways I don't always understand or see right away.

Looking at myself, and my actions of the past (insert time measurement here), I've found one vitally important, at least to me, concept. One can go through life after an unwanted event wishing things would return to the way they once were or that things could be idyllic and such. Or, one can accept that, quite frankly, shit, and big shit, happens, and mistakes are made. One can then commit oneself to correcting any mistakes to the best of one's ability. Once one has felt that one has given their best, and very little progress has been made, one can simply say "that's that, I did my best and all that I knew how to do, now it's time to move on".

In a much more personal note, there is someone that I truly care about very much, and miss more than I can describe. As much pain as I've felt in regards to my own life, nothing pains me more than seeing the pain she has been caused, especially by my actions. As afraid as I am to admit it, I made mistakes, horrible ones, that I am only just starting to forgive myself for. Nothing in this world would make me happier than to have the girl I fell in love with in my arms again. I'd give anything to have that happen. However, I don't know when I'll see her, so I'd just as soon give the same things to know that she's happy again.

So anyway... I kinda went a few places there, different emotions, different reasons for writing each paragraph. I'm sure whatever perception is contrived of each paragraph is correct. For those of you that have been on the inside track of my life the past year, hope you have an understanding of where I am at now. For those of you that have thought "what's up with him" hope you have a bit of an understanding (haha if you think you know the whole me!) of me.

My Celebrity Look-Alikes

hahahaha

What is your Sexual Obituary?

At the height of pleasure, TK died while in the sack with their lover, Lindsay Lohan. TK will be terribly missed by The women's olympic hammer throw team.

'What is your Sexual Obituary?' at QuizUniverse.com

You know you are from Lancaster County PA if.....

Your idea of Chicken Pot Pie has nothing to do with a pie and you can't figure out why people might think it would.

Your driving lessons involved learning to avoid horse droppings.

You know at least 5 euphemisms for animal manure and at least 4 of them involve food.

You know how to cook, but not without butter.

You've ever missed school for the first day of deer season... but didn't get in trouble.

The following words mean something to you: Fire Hall Wedding, Chicken and Waffle Dinner, Fire-police, Wooly Bear Whoopie Pie

You spend at least 30 minutes every summer day complaining about New Jersey drivers.

You don't understand why people would ever want to see the Amish.

The local Post Office used to be a single-family home and they close between noon and 1 for lunch.

You have ever ended a sentence with "a while".

You do not giggle when you see the following signs: Lititz, Intercourse, Blue Ball, Bird-in-Hand

You've heard of 7-11 but you've never seen one.

You cannot buy beer and wine from the same store.

Park City has nothing to do with skiing for you.

Agnes 1972 means something to you and you can tell stories about it.

You pronounce Lancaster in "Burt Lancaster" differently from Lancaster in "Lancaster, PA".

You personally know many people with the name: Lapp Lantz Stoltzfus (or Stoltzfoos) Zimmerman Zook

Iced Tea for you is sweeter than Pepsi.

You know someone who repairs gasoline-powered lawn mowers, but is forbidden to own one.

You think Fasnacht Day and Groundhog day are national holidays.

You know that eggs are either white or brown... and you have a preference.

You think the Mississippi is just a tad wider than the Susquehanna.

You know who James Buchanan was.

You can pronounce "Ephrata."

You don't have to be told what Shoo Fly Pie is.

You go to the store when the milk is "all".

You think orange traffic cones are the natural foliage surrounding Route 30.

You have an uncontrollable urge to buy bread and milk when you hear the word, "snow."

You know the only way to make good fastnachts is to cook them in LARD.

You live within two miles of a plant that makes potato chips, corn chips, pretzels, candy or ice cream or that packages turkeys, beans or bologna.

You do things "once," as in, "I'll go check in the back room once."

You can stop along the road to buy fruit, vegetables or crafts on the "honor system."

YOUR turkey has "filling," not "stuffing" and most certainly NOT "dressing."

You know that chicken corn soup from a firehouse is the most perfect food on earth.

You say things like, "Outen the lights," "I'm calling off today" and "They're calling for snow."

You've heard of distelfinks and hex signs.

Red Beet Eggs makes your list of top ten favorite foods.

You pronounce "Suite" as SUIT, not SWEET.

You say you're going out to the shed "AWHILE," instead of "FOR AWHILE."

You only buy your beer and soda by the case.

You think the roads in any other state are smooth.

You know the Penn State cheer. (WE ARE...PENN STATE!)

Hearing horses clopping down a paved street doesn't bring you to the window to see what's going on outside.

You never see any Confederate flags except on the Gettysburg battlefield.

You prefer Hershey's chocolate to Godiva.

You consider Pittsburgh to be "out west," and you know the fastest way to Philly is the Turnpike.

School closings due to snow take the radio stations half an hour to finish because just about every town has its own school district.

When someone says 1972, you think, "Agnes," and when someone says 1979, you think, "TMI."

You call sloppy joes "barbecue."

You think Medium Rare equals Well Done.

When it snows, they put cinders on the roads instead of sand.

You only own three spices: salt, pepper and ketchup.

You have ten favorite recipes for venison.

Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.

The local paper covers National and International headlines on one page, but requires six pages for local sports.

You think the start of deer hunting is a national holiday.

You remember fondly days of youth known as, "Snow Days."

Words like: gumband, buggie, hoagie, chipped beef, scrapple, actually mean something to you.

You think Fasnacht Day and Groundhog Day are national holidays.

The verb "to be" is useless: "Does Fido need out?"

You know what a Turkey Hill is . . .
. . . and you've ditched school to hang out there.
. . . and they're the only place that sells your favorite beverage.


You've corrected all the errors while watching Witness.

"Dinner" and "supper" are different concepts entirely.

You reocognize "Twin Kiss" and "Freez and Frizz," knowing that Dairy Queen is a pale imitation.

Dutch Wonderland is neither Dutch nor much of a Wonderland.

WGAL is the source of all local celebrities and they create quite a stir when they shop in the supermarket.

The Green Dragon ain't no Chinese restaurant.

Three words: Red Beet Eggs.

You actually get these jokes and forward them to all your Lancaster County friends.

An Urgent Message

An owl hooted, perched on a small tree in the forests of Moonglade. It's perch was quite short, actually, that it shouldn't be called a tree by the standards of any Kalimdor tree. It had no leaves in its canopy, or head, and there were two oddly bent branches that reached upwards and away from the tree in the same direction. The owl hooted again. The tree swayed slighty, as if blown by a breeze. The owl hooted insistently, as if attempting to wake up a sleeping friend. It had something attached to its leg, a rolled up letter, it appeared. Again the owl hooted, and in an act of impatience, dug it's talons into the tree's branch. The tree, only about thrice the size of a seated night elf male, began to change. Seeming satisfied with the reaction, the owl opened its wings and left the branch, taking to the air. The tree continued to change, roots shrinking, branches retracting, and shrinking at the same time. Tendrils of nature magic embraced the tree, and a glow enveloped it in a green sylvan light. The ball of energy shrunk to the size of a seated night elf male. The glow elongated vertically, and within moments, the tendrils released thier hold, and a male night elf appeared where the tree had been. He opened his glowing eyes and shot a look at the owl.

"You know, you could have waited for me to return from the Dream," the night elf said to the owl.

He extended his arm, and the owl took to its new leather bracer perch. Noticing the note on the owl's leg, he carefully broke the binding and opened the note. He looked at the carefully written script, discerning its meaning. Frowning, he turned it to the owl.

"Why can't they ever send me drawings?" He questioned.

The owl, in a very un-owl-like move, shrugged. The night elf shrugged as well, and opened the note fully for the owl to read. The owl stared at the paper, its eyes glowing with fey magic. They scanned the paper, appearing to be reading it, but everyone knows owls can't read. Finished, the owl closed its eyes and hooted softly. Opening its eyes again, it stared into the eyes of its night elf companion. Fey magic took hold, and a whispy yellow light connected both sets of eyes. The transfer took only a second, and the light faded. Blinking, the night elf shook his head.

"Now I understand," he apologized. The owl hooted in response and took flight.

Dropping to his hands, tendrils of magic once again enveloped the night elf. When the ball formed this time, it grew and elongated horizontally. When the tendrils dissappeared, a nightsaber was standing where a night elf was. Stretching its paws forward, the large cat growled. Satisfied with its new form, it leaped forward and surged after the smell of hippogriffs.

Ugh...

Why am I depressed?
Why am I masochistic?
Why am I suicidal?

All these thoughts, and they hurt so much. I just want the pain to end. I want it all to go away. I want to stop being emo when I'm alone, when nobody's around, but it's all the time. I'm so lonely. I'm so very very lonely. Why don't people want to answer, or when they do, why won't they talk? Why won't they call me? Why do they ignore me throughout the day? Why can't someone just drop in sometime and talk to me?

I want to leave this place. I'm so very tired. I cannot explain the things I do anymore. They just happen.

I'm losing myself. What do I do?