- March 20th, 2016
- Write comment
There is a sense of trepidation whenever I reach a crossroads at my life, but usually I have some form of control over which road I choose. This week, that is hardly the case.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” the demon said, coming into my door. “I’ve been stopping by for quite some time. I didn’t think you’d let me in.”
I eyed him quietly. He looked like someone I wouldn’t trust, someone that’d hold me back. But he looked normal. Looked like I would pass him on the street. He was wearing a button up shirt and some denim jeans and dress shoes. A bit upscale, but still casual. Business casual.
“Care for a drink?” I said, gesturing him inside and closing the door behind him. I pointed towards the sofa, inviting him in. His eyebrows rose, surprised at the hospitality.
“Sure,” he said. “Mead?”
“Of course,” I said. “I always treat my guests with the best of what I have. It is my hospitality.” Read more
I am writing this as my flight goes over the snow-topped San Francisco Peaks that belong to Flagstaff. But my writing was delayed because I just passed over the tri-city area, and it took me a minute to realize that I was looking at the majority of my life from miles up in the sky, all summarized in a small area. Read more
It’s a test, I am sure. Life is trying that press on me again, where it is trying my patience before I really move forward with the next bit of my life. It just hits in the small, right ways that it knows to, and I am increasingly frustrated with it. Read more
Good evening music.
I was at the gym tonight, and while I was doing my warm up and stretches, I looked up to one of the TVs to see coverage about ISIL/ISIS. Then, I started thinking about the things I have seen on Reddit about their victims, and who they’re killing, and the people they’ve paraded before putting into mass graves…
My blood started to boil. But it wasn’t just about that. I was looking at a part of the human race that has devolved into this kind of senseless intent. It feels like they are hiding behind the mask of Islam– they’re not fighting for it, they’re using it as an excuse to massacre people.
So, I am writing this from the cruising altitude for a Boeing 737-800 on my five hour flight to Boston. I managed to get the emergency exit aisle with only one other person for this five-hour flight, and I have plenty of room– probably the most I have ever had outside of first class. I have music in my ears, and I am well rested and ready to tackle the next work project.
But, I left Seattle. And I feel a bit of myself staying behind each time. Read more