Oh, the Places You'll Go

Apparently, it'll never sink in.

God tells me, "Don't worry about tomorrow ... each day has enough trouble of its own," and, "I know the plans that I have for you."

And yet, here I am, plotting and planning and scheming for the future, even though I know that things change almost every day.

I thought I'd live in this house next year ... ehhh, things might change.

Once I thought I'd be at Camp next summer ... ehhh, nope. Maybe San Diego? Yeah, maybe. Maybe Ocean City? Yeah, maybe. What about Calcutta? Or Cairo? Or going around the inner cities of America? Strangely enough, all those things are possibilities.

WHO KNOWS?!

It's truly kind of exciting, to see where I will end up. But, you'd think I'd learn to just let go, stop planning, and let God take over. Nope. I try to master the inconstancy of the world, and only end up being constantly defeated.

So, it's time to put this in the hands of God and trust that He has the best plan for me. It's not for me to worry about.

I Like My Coffee Black, Like the Color of My Soul

I've never felt so cultured and artistic as I have the past few weeks of my life.

It all started with Theater and Drama 150: Intro to Acting.

(My sophistication levels simply sky-rocketed from there.)

They were propelled along by Intergrated Liberal Studies 275: American Political Thought and Literature from Paine to Hemmingway.

(My gosh, I'm so ... scholarly.)

Essentially, I spent the greater portion of last week:

1. Brainstorming for a short story for Political Thought / Literature class
2. Going over my options for presenting a depressing, suicidal monologue for Acting

I spent yesterday:

1. Writing my short story at a favorite coffee shop on State St.
2. Attending the thea-ater to see Death of a Salesman
3. Practicing my suicidal monologue

I spent today:

1. Writing my short story and drinking tea while candles burned in our pseudo-fireplace
2. Reading Kerouac (for pleasure)

I've got the black beret, I've got the small black t-shirt, Ashley and I were talking about hosting a "Beat Poetry Night" at 22 S. Orchard.

Now, all I need is black coffee and cigarettes.

Black. Like the color of my soul.

(Notice the disjointed, post-modern style of this blog. It's supposed to represent the disjointed nature of humanity in which ... Oh, wait ... You don't understand what it's supposed to represent? I'm sorry. Then clearly you shouldn't be reading this blog. Because I'm agnsty and presumptuous and only talk with other people who wear black and drink coffee and snap their fingers instead of clapping. You wouldn't understand.)

Snap snap snap snap snap.

Ahoy!

Avast, me hearties! Me life-long dream of becoming a pirate was finally fullfilled! It wasn't easy thar, matey, but me thinks Cap'n Jack Sparrow would be proud! Yaaarrrr!!

Um, basically the Fall Teen Retreat at Camp this weekend was amazing. (It was Pirate-themed, for those whose skulls are just a little thicker than your Average Joe.) Now, sadly, I must sail away from the high seas of adventure and into the Harbor of Reality. Ohhh gosh. I miss summer. I miss Camp people. I miss my job. : (