Ramblings mostly

There are some days in life that you wish with all your heart never happened.
But it did.
And life goes on.

In retrospect, not the biggest deal, but I still feel pretty bad.

I went to flip city tonight. For those of you who are unaware it is a place where mostly males go to see who can hurt themselves doing the craziest flip. Otherwise known as a gymnastics centre. I went last year a bit, was a bit rusty tonight. It never fails to surprise me how fearless guys are at this age. My one friend was trying to do a backflip starting with just standing on the ground and was he worried about his neck, no, no he was worried about STUBBING HIS TOE. Really? Really? Does no one worry about these things except me. I figured I worried enough tonight for every guy who came out so no one else has to. I got them all covered.

It always leaves me quite puzzled when I think about how complicated relationships get. And, as I mentioned before, not only are they harder to keep up, they end up getting more complicated too. And i'm not just talking girl/guy, i'm talking every relationship.

Why do we bother seeking after companionship when sometimes, lets face it, it just doesn't seem worth it anymore?
Thoughts?

And now a poem from my beloved friend Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played
At wrestling in a ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.


"fields of gazing grain"
She's brilliant eh.

"We are constant sinners; how can people like us be saved? We are all infected and impure with sin...And yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter. We all are formed by your hand." Isaiah 64: 5, 8

Thank goodness for "and yet".

Song of the Day:
Grow up and Blow Away by Metric