Drug-Induced Again...

I'm getting more serious about seminary next spring.

If anybody ever tells you that they're going to perform a gum graft on you, expect lots of grossness and pain. Seriously, of all the crazy things I've had done to me in the past year or so, this is both the grossest and most painful. I've come to the conclusion that I'm a bungee jumper, my mouth is the cord, and vicodin is the bridge--I keep on jumping away, but this stupid tooth just keeps pulling me back.

I hate the fact that I am always looking for somebody to love me regardless of whether I care about them even a little bit. Here's hoping that I can get past the approval of others.

I have summer plans. This makes me happy. I'll write about them later, I have to get through the list of people I need to tell face to face while I'm home before I cast the bottle out into the sea.

Justin Timberlake is not cool.

I probably shouldn'tpost when I'm on vicodin, but whatev--

I don't think it counts as trusting God if you know exactly how it ends. I was listening to Power 88 the other day, which has actually restored my faith in the notion of Christian radio that doesn't blow, and they were talking about the story of Daniel in the lions' den. The speaker was talking about how Daniel didn't just throw in the towel and say "Oh well, I guess God wants me to die this way," but that he trusted God to preserve his life. And I think he was wrong.

Daniel trusted God by doing what God had told him to do with a blatant disregard for material consequences. Here's an example of what I'm trying to get at: My mom loves making cookies, and she's very good at it. Imagine that she has just concocted some new type of cookie and sets the still steaming cookies in front of me with the simple instruction to try one. Trust would have me eat one--it's the opposite of trust for me to ask her exactly what's in it and what it's going to do to me.


OK, well, it's time for another round of my buddy vic.

Peace, love, and joy to you all.