A lot of guys I know, I’d say most, and usually while they’re not with a girl, have taken the time to think about what they want in a girl. There are qualities of character that some girls have, and others do not. Some qualities are more important than others, but usually there are some that cannot be missing from someone that you intend to spend your life with. Sometimes, in coming up with these qualities, guys say, “It’s okay if she’s not this, so long as she’s this, after all, nobody’s perfect.” For those who believe God takes an active role in our finding romantic love, they pray asking Him to lead them to a girl with these qualities. I had thought this through before too. I didn’t have a clue.

When the guys I know have fallen in love, they say they’ve found the one, the one they were looking for, the one with the qualities they had prayed for. In the past, I could have listed qualities all day, I could have asked God for what I thought was the perfect woman, down to the last detail, allowing no room for shortcomings. The truth is, before I met her, I couldn’t have asked for all that she is. The one I was looking for, the one I thought was perfect, was less than her. She came into my life and turned it upside down, and I can barely recognize it at times.

I dream of her every night now, but before I met her, I couldn’t have ever dreamt of such a woman existing, let alone caring for me. All I can do is love her with all my heart, and it pales in comparison with her. I pray that God will make me more, that I might have more to give her.

Written on 5/16 at around 5 p.m.

Reading blogs is a funny way to understand someone’s life. I just called Dan on the phone, wondered if he was a bit down the way he was talking. I haven’t been reading blogs for a few days, so I didn’t know what a number of you all may. I’ve been busy, too busy to write, too busy to read? Obviously I need to change some priorities. Now I've got a bit of a clue. I’m sorry Dan. I’m really, really sorry Diana.

Why does this stuff happen, does it really make any of us stronger? Is it beneficial that we become calloused, that we put up walls, that the flavor is pulled from tender words? Why does one feel love, and it remains unrequited? Is there a higher and nobler reason for the pain? Are we doing something wrong in opening our hearts so? Tell me if you know.

Breathing deeply the fragrance of ammonia and bleach, I need a break to collect and put down my thoughts. Cleaning is a funny ritual for me. I accept unusual amounts of hideous debris to collect on me as I scrub and wipe the place I live. I feel as though I can take it, as though I’m required to take the dirt upon myself before it can truly be gone. Credit some misguided messiah complex or whatever for that, but I prefer scrubbing by hand, inspecting each surface close up to ensure the job is done.

I take an inordinately long amount of time to do dishes by hand, too. I continue wiping away long after they’re clean enough. I suppose it’s in part due to my upbringing, which I remind everyone of when I receive looks for 30 second (minimum to remove bacteria) hand washings, or even when I surprise myself with borderline obsessive-compulsive cleaning tendencies. Nearly every woman in my extended family has been a nurse it seems. My sister is in medical school. Then I’ll eat stuff off the floor, and some people say I’m a stable personality type. They’re close. I have stable personality types. The ends of the spectrum, I’m curious, let me have several types of lives at once.

I’ll do yoga, run, take up swimming, then I’ll light up a cigarette. I enjoy the outdoors, backpacking, but I want to live near or in a metroplex. Quiet and contemplative, then streaking around the neighborhood with only a beer. I wonder if I have to give up parts of my person and become completely one way or the other. Anyway, all this to say, you should see the bathroom, it’s getting a facelift.

If you haven’t read Donne, do.

“It were but madness now t’impart
The skill of specular stone
When he which can have learned the art
To cut it, can find none.”
The Undertaking, John Donne

First, I had a post written about friends, best friends, and family, but I lost it, credit my use of Blogger here. Anyway, I’m in a superb mood right now, I love evening phone calls, and I love free minutes after 9. To the group, I’ve got the tickets, and I’m sorry, they’re in the covered seating, but they’re not first section. I’m still excited about the concert though, hope you all are too.

So, I’m in a good mood, but being tired and catching up on blogs, I’m faced once again with one of my personal dilemmas. My problem is that I can’t stand “happy Christians”. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I mean, in principle I agree with them. I believe God did create the world, Jesus did die for my sins, He does love me, He does cause all things to work together for my good. Somehow, at times, that’s just not what I want to hear, especially from people who know so little about me.

When I feel comfortable admitting to someone that I’m struggling with some decisions in life, nothing makes me want to kill a man like somebody responding to me by singing Trust And Obey. When I’m worried about a job, a relationship, a hurting friend, a lack of direction, whatever, I’m not interested in your third grade Sunday School lesson, complete with Flannel-graph and coloring pages.

I’m not sure if I’m way off target here either, maybe I just need to calm down. Here’s some verses that resonate with me when I feel this way:

When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.
I Corinthians 13:11

He who blesses his friend with a loud voice early in the morning, It will be reckoned a curse to him. Proverbs 27:14

Like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, or like vinegar on soda, is he who sings songs to a troubled heart.
Proverbs 25:20

So I’m unsure right now as to how to feel. I have an aversion to what I believe to be ignorant smarminess, but if someone is blessed and built up by it, who am I to condemn it? Maybe I’m jealous because I so rarely feel emotionally close to God. Maybe some people need to open their eyes and face reality. God is big enough to handle the shit that happens down here, we don’t have to pretend the sun is shining when it’s pouring outside.

Written on 4/16 at around 9 p.m.

So, I’m at Starbucks now, feeling like I’m where I belong again. It’s good recognizing your own life. As good as it is to be ecstatic about newfound love, it’s nice to remember where you’ve come from, and not feel depressed about it. I like my life just fine, I actually am okay alone. I remember writing down, and being fairly honest with myself in saying I am relatively well equipped to live a life alone. I’m sitting here smoking a cigar (albeit a cheap one), drinking a coffee, and writing on my laptop with no one beside me. I’m fine with that.

Here’s an idea, why don’t I live as I know I should? In particular, the thought that come to mind right now is that with this girl who called me, though I’m somewhat interested, I should do as others do, and seek out other female company. Don't let yourself become too attached, don't pursue too much. This is not a novel concept, it’s just new to me.

Interesting, I hear more groups of students, attractive girls and trendy guys. They sit and talk of relationships and new upstart bands. They pat each others back for "clever" uses of obscenity and rather poor uses of analogy. At least they know what an analogy is.

Will I do it again? Who knows. If I fall for a girl like her, truly close to my equal in books read, philosophy expanded and expounded, will I have to accept her strong willed disregard for my feelings at times?

So quickly, despite the lovely weather and heady excitement of writing, I long to be with people again, to develop friendships, to listen to someone’s stories and watch their eyes dance at the exciting parts. I want to hear Gerald from Andrew’s house tell another story, as loudly and colorfully as he can. I want to hear somebody’s heartfelt sadness and depression, and tell them that at least they have our friendship. I should be comfortable alone, but I’m not. I asked for people to call me, but they haven’t.

-It wasn't supposed to make sense, I was in the very middle of confusion.