Some bittersweet news…

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sad pumpkinI guess I should go ahead and let people know, before the first of October hits and anyone is actually expecting it:

There will be no HALLOWEEN’ING series this year.

ThereĀ was going to be one this year; I had the entire month of October mapped out, with over half of the articles already written and scheduled.

But, the reality is, my heart just isn’t in this at this time. The reasons and the standard ones: Fatigue. Health issues. Burnout. Also, I really don’t want to have to constantly justify my love of this particular season over the Big Two Christian holidays I’m expected to prefer.

I just want to chill out this year, enjoy the Halloween season without feeling the need to blog about everything. I want to peruse all the wondrous and spooky things without constantly formulating how I’m going to write the article.

I’m telling you, having a strong writer’s mentality is both a blessing and a curse sometimes.

So, yeah. No HALLOWEEN’ING this year. That doesn’t mean I won’t be posting anything related to Halloween. If I see something cool, I’ll have to say something about it. I just won’t be spending every day of the month doing it, if at all.

In the mean time, I’ve been scheduling next year’s movie and music review posts, getting them out of the way for other things. Until next time, cheers everyone, and stay freaky.

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House Sitting, Day 7

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existential pizzaDay Seven of the House Sitting.

Last day. Doing the laundry one last time, getting things packed away. Spending one last night here, then headed to work tomorrow mourning, all of my things tucked into the NEKRON 7. Headed back to the Haunted Victorian afterwards.

Tonight, though, I plan on watching the newest Preacher on the AMC channel on the Dish Network setup (as opposed to waiting until Monday evening to watch it on the Amazon streaming). Only three more episodes left to this season. I hope they actually get to the point of all this. Judging by last season, though, probably not.

The existential realization of heading back to the reality tomorrow looms just above and behind me, like the realization of my own mortality. It’s more of an intangible black cloud, reminding me that, like life itself, the holiday is fleeting, a mere blip in the grand overall scope of time and space. I exist, and that existence has meaning; and yet, when compared to the vastness that is time, and the fact that time itself is speeding along faster and faster, so that to give the illusion of blinking and seeing much of my life and experience go by, a blip in the history of Everything…makes me want to just order a pizza and chill out a bit.

Mmmmm…taco pizza from Casey’s…make this a reality, when the laundry’s done and I have socks again…

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Pointless Brain Droppings (May 17, 2018)

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negasonic teenage warheadNegasonic Teenage Warhead.

She of the two Deadpool movies. She’s also in the comic books, I’m told. Interesting character. One question that nags me, though:

What is she going to be called when she turns 20?

She wouldn’t technically be a Teenage Warhead any longer. Would it be Negasonic Warhead? Or just streamline it to just Warhead? I’d go for the latter, actually.

In hindsight, choosing to use the word “Teenage” in the name may have been a bit shortsighted. Like with New Kids On The Block, or Backstreet Boys. Sooner or later, they’re all going to have to give up and admit to the passage of time rendering those edgy monikers null and void.

Besides, life really does begin at 30, guys. This whole “teenage” thing was what you would call overrated.

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Nightmare…

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nightmareLast night I was attacked. In my sleep, again. I had a very oppressive dream involving being in a dark, dank dilapidated house, watching television with someone I didn’t know but seemed to have struck up a friendship with. Then said person took me down to the basement of the house, which was much more dank and dark and foreboding than the main floor. There was a pile of several pieces from various G. I. Joe action figures (not the dolls, but the smaller action figures sold in the 1980s and 90s), and suggested what would be really, really fun would be to create new men out of these pieces. So, I began putting some together, while the guy slipped into the shadows. I stood up, went looking for him; he tried to go invisible, but I was able to see him despite the subterfuge, which is when he began shrieking and taking on a look more of Golum from the Lord of the Rings. I grabbed hold of him in a bear hug from behind, and began rebuking him in the name of Jesus, which lead to him deforming into some kind of blob-like thing, before melting completely into the floor. I then woke up, feeling like some kind of heavy, hot wool blanket was pulled from me. It was 2:10am. I then began wondering if Nick or anyone from the congregation experienced anything like that as well, or if it was just me…

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Seems Pretty Apt, Really…

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Saw this, and it made root beer come out of my nose. Thinking it’s pretty apt, considering the current political climate and all…

how the world really ends

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Space is warped and time is bendable…

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space is warped and time is bendableSunday mourning. I appear to have lost an hour of time overnight. I’ve checked the couch cushions, but the hour wasn’t there. It was there when I went to bed, but when I woke up, all gone.

I know I’m missing an hour, because the clocks all say it’s 7am, but everything acts like it’s 6am. Have we all experienced a skip in time? This seems to happen every year; there’s a time skip, then later — several months later — it corrects itself.

Theory: Time is unraveling exponentially. Which would explain why time seems to be going faster than it did when I was a young boy. Is there a wormhole causing the population to time travel? And if so, why isn’t Phoenix affected? Are they situated on an anomaly of some sort?

Whatever it is, it seems to be stable and predictable enough as to be able to warn everyone about the skip a week or so in advance.

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Like A Cat On A Leash…

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cat on a leashBetween the ages of four and five, my family was living in Iceland at the Keflavik Naval base. One afternoon, my dad came back home with a cat that he said was rescued from an abandoned car, and became our family pet. This cat didn’t like me too much, because–for reasons logical to my five-year-old mind at the time–I would always try to walk the cat like a dog. I would tie a belt around her neck and try to go for a walk with the poor thing. Of course, that cat wasn’t having any of it, and would do the passive-resistance thing by laying on her side and not moving while I tried dragging her along, urging to just walk instead of being dragged. It’s a miracle I didn’t inadvertently choke the poor thing to death.

Again, I was five. I didn’t know any better. My parents did punish me when they caught me doing it. Please keep the threats to my life to a minimum, they do get boorish after a while. Anyway…

I bring up this trip down amnesia lane for the purpose of illustrating another bit of truth about my daily wanderings in this post-Evangelical wilderness of mine: my flesh just doesn’t want to cooperate. Since endeavoring to become a disciple of Jesus Christ and not merely a follower (there is a difference; perhaps one day I will finally write about that as well…on the list it goes), and letting the Holy Spirit do His thing with the sanctification process that will be going on until the day I go Home, my flesh isn’t very happy about it.

Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.– Galatians 5:24-25

The thing about crucifixion as a means of execution is, it’s not the most efficient or even humanitarian way of being put to death. It could take hours, days, even weeks for the condemned person to finally die. In the meantime, it’s a very painful, very horrendous and slowly antagonizing death. The metaphor is very apt, as my flesh is slowly dying, being put to death by the Holy Spirit’s work of sanctification on me, and it knows it’s dying. It can feel the death processes very clearly. And it’s not going to go without a fight.

Basically, when my flesh can’t get what it wants, when it feels it’s being dragged along by the Holy Spirit upon the leash that ties it to me, it does what the cat in Iceland did: it tries to make the process as rough as possible by laying down and dragging along. I want to follow the Holy Spirit, but my progress is being hindered by this dead weight not wanting to comply.

But, I seem to be in good company with this struggle. As the same guy who wrote the words in Galatians, also wrote this in Romans:

So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!– Romans 7:21-25

So, here I am, wanting to follow the Holy Spirit’s guidance, but being bogged down by my flesh more often than not. I despair, but then I remember that the Apostle Paul himself struggled with the same thing. And if one of the greatest followers of Jesus Christ had trouble, what makes me think I’m going to get to the end of this path I follow unscathed?

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