i just finished a nice, cold, crunchy bowl of frosted flakes. 
        i should be studying for a test at 1:30, but the frosted flakes and thought of a xanga entry were too tempting.


i met a woman named bridget on the sidewalk.  drove her home from the grocery store because she had a lot of bags and it was cold... took her and her kids to church the next day.  she said i have a good heart of gold.  it felt nice... but i couldn't help but think that she just really doesn't know me.

she knows the person i want to be.   the person i try to be.  but not the person i consistently am.

i'm consistently foolish. and selfish. and undisciplined.       
and i forget that it's not my job to try.        it's my job to surrender.

there's this song by Tom Conlon called "The God of Sunday Morning"...

                        I used to memorize the Bible.  I used to memorize it word for word
                            and i would use it like a king, i would swing it like a scepter and a sword....

              You are love, we are not love, i have seen this in religion from my youth...
 
                                                          and the God of sunday morning will be gone by sunday moonlight 
                     and then fall silent for a week, though now and then we let Him speak on Wednesday night...