Another Birthday Says Goodnight, Dear Friend

The day I was born was January 26th, 1981, at 5:06 p.m. Ten months or so before that I was conceived and God's master plan begun for one more human being in the countless magnitude he has sown together in the womb. It's spectacular, isn't it? He who is perfect has put us together in a way that only could be done by the Divine.

My son made me bookmarks for my birthday and my wife bought me a cheesecake sampler...yummmmmmmy in me tummy is all I can say. That's right: me tummy. I get childish when it comes to cheesecake.

This year was about ten times better than last year's official birthday because last year was the start of my silence to my mom. I've been feeling overwhelmed, again. Why can't I just have two normal parents who love one another like they're supposed to? Why can't my dad be healed from his atrocious malady? It's not...fair? Is sin really ever fair? When did I grow up to know curses aren't fictional like I thought when I was smaller and less significant? Is it fair to say I've grown at all in my maturity to comprehend the vastness that is blank void? Such blank voids are when the people around us whom we love till it hurts somehow get hurt, themselves, and we can do NOTHING to stop the pain.

Okay, let's clear the air. This year was better than last year's. I didn't see my friends and their smirks surprising me for my coolest-surprise party ever, but I did get to see them at Cari's dinner party, and that's fine with me. This year was better for it was simple. I bought myself a book and all the reliable people around me sent cards, cash, checks, love, warm words, and the typical "old man" comments. Did I mention the bookmarks? Totally radical. My son is a genius and it's probably thanks to Kamryn's (spelling, Kristi?) prayer for Eli to be strong and wise. I love the fact that Carissa helped Eli color all over paper and made a trinity of marks for my books. They're the best gifts I can be given because they're laced with love and determination. He's going to be great...strong...wise.

School is much better. I dare say I wasn't strong enough to tackle what I did to myself and schedule seven classes for the Spring semester. I do have to say that the winter's winding down is disheartening, though. I know it's cold now (at this very moment it's dropping to the supposed forties), but come on, where's the weather that makes a simple 4 a.m. trip to the bathroom hurt? Maybe we should move to South Carolina. I think there are great things in S.C. (not the win for Huckabee, but hey, at least McCain did well). Isn't that the state with the palm tree and crescent moon?

Speaking of politics, I wish I knew what to do. I'm full of wishes that aren't to be granted by copper or golden teapots found in sand. I want Huckabee to win it all: he's talented enough to find answers that I think are out there concerning "the war." He loves the Lord willingly and openly and I feel strongly that our post-modern society is starving from a leader like him. That to say, I'm not thinking preaching from the White House is a novel idea, but you get my drift. I think-I know-John McCain is my next best vote. He can win Florida, with or without me tearing down Romney signs.

Drowning in School

I can't believe it but I'm completely swamped and drowning in school right now! I knew this semester would be tough with six courses (had to drop English Novel because-well, the title should be enough of an explanation), but this is ridiculous. I shouldn't be on here at all. I should be reading about Elizabethan history or attempting my MS Office classes. I feel so overwhelmed and nearly sick. I hate this feeling. It's a claustrophobic feeling that I got when I was going in for my second appendectomy. The doctors had to give me something for my anxiety. Bleh, this is troubling. Why did I take this much school in one semester? Oh yeah: to get ahead; to better myself; to get my family out of someone else's house and into our own.

I told Cari tonight that we should go to high schools and give speeches about how to not mess up future plans because there wasn't a past plan. First, don't plan on having a baby without at least a Bachelor's Degree. Second, buy a mini-van or reliable SUV early and have it paid off by the time your first child's born. Third, have money in the bank for a house down payment, at least twenty percent of the house's worth. Low interest rates then.

Instead of this great master plan we're doing the best with what we've got. Gotta love the ironies in life. Gotta love God's patience with us. I guess I'll go read about Queen Elizabeth or at least read John Smith's diary entries for some lit class whose title I can't recall at this hour.