I hate packing and recently got married & moved in with my wife. Enjoy this song I made about my disdain for packing.
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Life
“Sorry I’m busy during lunch on Friday. Ah yes, I see here, Friday from noon to 1pm, find a place and cry.”
I am 50-50 introvert-extrovert. If I have too much “people time”, I feel like I am going to die. If I have too much “alone time”, I feel like I am going to die. And lately, I have had tooooooooooooo much lonely time. I live alone in my apartment, and I don’t have a ton of friends up in The Great North™.
With COVID-19 has come a new found sense of slowness. Places are closed. Routines have been disrupted. There is less to “do” for many of us. It has really helped me reassess my busyness, and how I utilize my time. Is being “busy” really good?
As a Christian, I wish there was an easy answer to the great mystery of suffering. I wish and hope for a day where it would stop. But I’m not here to spread vapid platitudes, pretend I know all the answers, or dismiss hurt I’m seeing.
Winter is my version of hell—just add the absence of God, and cookies that you always think are chocolate chip, you take a bite, and they’re oatmeal raisin. That’s it. That’s hell.
When was the last time you heard someone say “yeah someone made me feel really bad about my beliefs until finally I agreed with them”?
I wanted to write this as an ode to any fellow Enneagram 3’s who may be wrestling with thinking they are not good enough. An ode to those who are feeling restless. An ode to those who are feeling like they should be “doing more”. An ode to those who feel like “more should be happening” in their efforts.
I hate silence. I often run from it. I will put music on. Turn on Netflix. Play video games. Listen to podcasts. Anything to take away the eerie whisper of nothing. But over the course of the past 5 months, I haven’t been able to run from silence much.
Deadlines are coming, and it’s just not “working” like you thought it would. Need help? Here’s some tips!
A challenge to any singles for 2020.
I’m a relatively reserved man who appreciates his privacy. While this is generally the case, to be totally frank, life lately has been pretty crappy (both literally and figuratively).
I am close friends with losing. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
Why had God called me to something that I was not good at? After nearly two years, did anything I do actually have any value for the Kingdom of God? Did God call me to something just to completely fail at it?
“Just remember, if you have a fat 13-year-old who has a bad haircut telling you that you’re worthless, remind him that he’s stupid, and that Fall Out Boy isn’t the epitome of music (no disrespect).”
I’m officially on the downward slope to being 30. Here's 30 things I want to do by the time I’m 30 years old, in no particular order.
Ever wonder what my creative process looks like? Wonder no more.
There’s a place in Scripture that’s been haunting me lately.
I’m really good at is pushing my emotions down deep deep inside of myself and saying that everything’s fine, and I’m “great!” when internally I feel like (in the words of Michael Gary Scott), “it feels like somebody took my heart and dropped it into a bucket of boiling tears..."
Do I love God, or my own theological version of God?