Bible Study
The beginning of Titus talks about him being in the city of Crete in order to appoint elders, Paul gives a list of characteristics that an elder must possess. I think he wants it to be known that the work of the ministry must begin at home before it can be brought to others in the community. Paul writes to Titus explaining that an elder must not have wild children and he must be faithful to his wife. This says to me that people are always watching the lives of those who lead. He wants it to be known that since people are watching their actions that they must be honest and upright people. Most importantly he lets it be known that after all the ground work has been laid and the foundations of the family life are set in order that the elder must be strong in the word of God.
Then Paul writes about some of the corruption within the Cretan people. Chapter 1 verse 12 says, “One of Crete's own prophets has said it: "Cretans are always liars, evil brutes, lazy gluttons.” I think that says a lot about them as a people. They are a people who had stretched in order to separate themselves from the love of God. It is very interesting that the very same people who had been described as “always liars,” are the same people who have claimed to know God. Maybe they have gotten to the point where they have lied to themselves so many times that they have begun to believe. In verse 16 it talks about them denying Christ by their actions and not being fit for anything good. I like to think of it as the blind leading the blind in a way. How you teach your children if you don’t know how to read and how can you lead someone to salvation if you have not truly accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior?
Paul’s final remarks talk about doing what is good and right and leading just and productive lives. I think that his comments bear a great weight on those in the Harbor house today. We all need to be built up in the word of God in order to fight in this war. We must learn to lead productive lives and strive to do what God commands.
Some days I feel like I succeed in doing the right thing and on other day I feel as if I fail. However I always look at my situation and I try to press on and not slip into the attitude of those who allow one bad choice determine what the future holds. Because God saved us not by our righteousness but by his mercy.

How to make a Bologna and Chesse Sandwich

Hot Sandwich
Growing up there were four of us kids that all lived under the same roof. When there was hot food around it was because my mother made it and we accepted what she made and it was always good. After a while my mom started working nights and so the eldest children had to cook for the younger ones and I became pretty good at the basics in the ghetto. That is Kool-Aid, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and my favorite was simply fried bologna and cheese. There isn’t much to making most sandwiches and this one is probably the simplest. It goes right up there with brushing your teeth, on the list of simple things.
First you need to get all your ingredients together and set them together within an easily accessible reach.
Ingredients
1. White Bread
2. 2 slices of Bologna
3. 1 slice of American Cheese
4. The tangy zip of Miracle Whip
Turn on the stove as high as it will go, then back down about one notch. Lay your skillet on the stove burner and add about 2 tablespoons of butter to the skillet. Allow the butter to coat the entire surface of the skillet. Add your 2 slices of bologna to the pan until the meat bubbles in the center then flip. After you flip them the meat will be turned up like a bowl, but continue to cook until the bologna lies back down, then turn the burner off all the way.
Add whatever amount of Miracle Whip you choose to your bread and then both pieces of cheese. Right out of the pan use a fork to slap the bologna on the bread and cheese and let it sit a few minutes so that the heat of the bologna can melt the cheese. Enjoy your low budget meal.
There is a door that leads you out of our dining room and into the kitchen. Once you walk through this door there is an island, to the left but smack dab in the middle of the room. To your right you will see a counter top big enough to lie down on and stretch your arms out above your head. Under that counter there are a couple of cabinets full of different kinds of pots and pans and all sorts of scarcely used utensils. If you make a left and watch out for the island then right over head about three feet in front of you, you will see the kitchen’s sink. Above the kitchen sink there are more cabinets filled with all sorts of boxed foods and some different kinds of mixes. Also in this same cabinet there are two jars of peanut butter. Look around for the one with the red label and not the blue one. The blue jar is chunky peanut butter and you don’t want to go there. Turn right and you can’t miss our double wide refrigerator and in there you will find the bread and maybe even a knife left over from another dish that you could surely wash and use to make yourself a peanut butter sandwich.

I Stir
I wonder how things will turn out after this semester. Will I be able to finish the race to the end or will I fall before I reach the finish line? I often wonder how things will develop with regards to the friends that I have made this semester. Will we know one another in a few years or will we survive as a faint memory? This year has been one of test. It has tried my patience and corrected. This year I find myself planning for my future more than I ever had before and I find myself losing the battle of my spirit. I found the love of God in the winter of 2008 and ever since my life has been totally different. I live close to downtown, and every Friday and Saturday night I can hear the roar of the college kids having the time of their lives and I think about how fun that might be. I find myself in turmoil, stuck between wanting to go out and party with friends and dealing with my need to do what I know is better for me. Sometimes I wonder if I would even enjoy myself if I went out to a bar. I don’t drink and I don’t smoke anymore and I don’t even like the smell of the places anymore. It would not be a place that I could go to in order to meet anybody with any kind of self-control. I imagine myself in the middle of two girls puking and possibly some fight going on behind me and all of a sudden I don’t want to go to the bar anymore. Ten minutes after that feeling goes away another one storms its way into my mind. I look into the night’s sky and I see and hear the explosion of the fireworks at Hammons Stadium. The bright colors and the noise remind me of the years I spent working at Busch Stadium in St. Louis. So much life in one place all gathered together in the name of the great American pastime. Ten I think about all the drunken people I used to have to ride the metro link train with and I instantly forget about going out to a baseball game. I sit on my patio thinking about what to do and tapping my fingers wishing there were more to this town than bars and restaurants. I wind up doing what I always do and putting on some “feel good” music and lying down to a movie and snacks. It seems like the only thing that I can do without feeling some sort of guilt, without feeling like I would be going against what I believe in order to do it. Still I think the devil knows what his angle will need to be if he is ever to gain a foothold in my life. The buzz of the night life is a lure that remains. Part of me feels as if I am missing out on a part of my youth by denying myself simple pleasures. Another side of me wants that to be over so I can move on to the next chapter of my life. Is there a common ground where the transition can occur in a smooth fashion?

If you have read any of my free writings you would know that this woman that I love has a hold of my heart. I think more than wanting to rekindle a dying flame; I just want to fall in love again. There is a difference between being lost without her and just plain old tired of being alone. I’m tired of avoiding going out to eat because I don’t want to eat by myself. I tire of the coldness of my sheets and I am so tired of trying to act like everything is alright. Nothing is the same and I just wish that I could cope a little better. I have all this money in the bank and no one to spend it on. I have all this energy and enthusiasm and I am only getting older. I see all the things that I am missing out on but I won’t allow myself to act like a victim to this. Sure, in my writings I can only express the truth in my heart but my hope is that when people see me I don’t simply radiate with self pity. My aim is to emit some sort of light that is attractive to those around me. My goal is to glow in such a way that my personality just spills over into the laps of my friends, giving them the motivation get over themselves.
I think back on the way that I used to be and I am happy about the fact that I have changed inside. I have changed for the better in the way that I treat people and it is as if my heart knows better than to assume that people will always be there. I used to assume that she would always be there but look at how that blew up in my smug face. So the, “new me” so to speak, is trying to be more humble and gracious and conscious to the fact that people are precious. [I wish I could explain some things without using classic clichés.]

Love

I think the hardest thing about being in love is the fact that sometimes you’ll find yourself thinking that everything is fine and that you are on the same page as the person you love until somewhere along the road communication breaks down. You say to yourself that if there was a problem he or she would say so. If ever we needed to talk to one another that the lines of communication are strong and always open. If ever I didn’t have anyone else to confide in that I can always count on my love to be there.
Too often we have traveled down roads blind and now we consider ourselves a bit wiser and a bit more cautious than we were. Too often we allow ourselves to slip into this mode of gentleness and soft eyes, all previous heartaches had robbed us of, until the wall falls down. We must open the gates in order to let them in but in doing so we sometimes become prematurely defenseless. We don’t see the break and maybe it’s because we don’t want it to be over just yet. Maybe it’s because we have been lonely and so we are willing to put up with a little more each day because we don’t want to be alone.
Don’t get me wrong, we are not weak individuals. You must understand that there is a lot of energy and a lot of work that goes into forging a successful relationship. It would just be a shame to let something so painstaking just shatter because of something so, unnecessary. We’ve gotten ourselves into the habit of letting the little things go and not holding grudges. Enough time goes by and we don’t even feel the tug when they begin to pull away. We don’t notice when the arguments become silence or when the wildfire becomes a dimly glowing ember.
We make more and more excuses for them and sometimes we even allow ourselves to believe the lies. Some of us are looking for that first high all over again but those of us who have been under the influence know that the first high is the sweetest. To every person who has never felt like they needed an anonymous meeting after coming down, I’m here to tell you that it won’t ever be the same, but we never stop looking for that sweet love.
Does the events that occur in our relationships today, affect how we trust tomorrow? Will we ever be able to put forth the same amount or more effort than we did when we were blinded by our foolish hearts? What does that mean? Are we forever scarred by the trauma or can we choose? I think we are always left with the choice except most people have a limit on how much they are willing to put themselves through. We wonder how they could pleasure putting us through so much pain. A man won’t usually fall in love more than a few times before something inside him snaps in two. One day he will turn away, dry his eyes, and erect the walls again. If he does fall in love again, he won’t say so, for the fear of being made fool at heart again.
If you could examine the condition of my heart you would see something in the likeness of a stone. If you could touch it you would feel something like a hard callous at just above room temperature. If you dropped it to the ground I would feel no pain. If it fell to the dirt it would not bounce and if it fell into water it would surely sink.

It’s funny the things you miss when they are gone, the people, the places that seem to ring forever inside of you and leave behind a tender longing and fond memories. If you asked me six months ago what I thought the best thing in my life was I would have told you that I don’t know. However if you ask me now what I think the most important thing in my life is I will stand up and tell you that being a good man is the only thing I care about. She left such a stain on which I am that most nights I recall all the unfortunate choices I made and I want to be different. When does change truly begin in a person? Is it when that person becomes sick to their stomach of the consequences of their actions or is it when they realize that nothing they do or no amount of materials can bring them the kind of satisfaction that loving another person can bring? I search most nights for a cure to my ailments and I wake up in the morning having found nothing beneficial to me and slowly my drive is diminished. I want to earn for myself a new sense of being because some things in this life I have found are simply worth fighting for. Some things mean so much for so long that they become the sole purpose of your life and the key reason why you make the decisions you make and the reason why you start the car in the morning and drive. I miss being able to hop in the car and go and I miss the trips out of town with her and I miss just laying in the bed and letting her long pretty hair fall on my eyes. I miss giving gifts and bringing a smile to her face and I miss taking care of her when she was ill. I miss the beginning, when we would stay up late at night just talking on the phone and laughing. I miss the times when we would wrestle on the bed and wind up on the floor making love. I miss taking showers with her and I miss the smell of her sweet perfume. Still, all I want is to be a better man, to somehow not fall victim of the flaws in me that lead me to the place where I am.

Without fail, every night I find myself full of regret when faced with the thoughts of who I really am. No one knows the real me and it just, flat out stinks when you live a double life. Often I have to check myself in order to keep that old sinful man in line with the desires of my heart. Inside me, one man is outgoing and eager and the other is introverted and unhappy. The good man is timid yet generous and kind. The bad man dives head first into his life without the slightest care for anyone else but himself. The bad man is a thrill seeker and the good man is a fire fighter who is actively involved in the lives of his friends and family. I often ask myself how and why this duo coexists. I ask myself how can there be peace.
On the nights when I happen to dream I am plagued by the poor decisions I have made and I am made a fool when I can finally see what I should have done. Sometimes I will happen to notice a nice couple holding hands and the sight of their closeness is like a dagger. Their smiles dredge up photo like memories, seemingly insignificant things that I have stashed away, in a place where I pray they can do no more harm. Still, I grind my teeth in my sleep until small bits break under the pressure and in the morning I am always in need of a few aspirins and a cigarette. When I brush my teeth and tongue I often look in the mirror and recite a few, necessary lies, telling myself things will be alright, if only I could make it through the moment. Then I take a breath and nothing has changed and that bad man mocks me, telling me how stupid I am for denying myself. Why don’t you stop in the bar and remember what it tastes like to have a beer or two among friends. Remember how much fun you used to have he says, and his voice echoes in my mind. The good man in me crawls out of his shell and tells that intimidating persona, that he can shove his bar beauties and he can keep his nightlife. And as he nestles back inside his hideout he prays for love.

What is a Place?
I was arrested in January of 2007 on a probation violation and I was held in the Greene County Jail on a warrant for failure to appear at my probation office. I was technically on the run from the law and now my mistakes had finally caught up with me and the law had me pinned down. This was not the first time I had been arrested but it would be the last but I just hadn’t made that choice for myself yet. Sure, I had said on more than one occasion that I was tired of feeling like I wasn’t in complete control of my life and that I was tired of being subjected to the will of other men but nothing had ever changed. I had gone in front of the judge before and made him all sorts of promises in order to keep my hind end out of the penitentiary but now I had returned because I did not keep my end of the bargain and so he was upset with me to say the least. Normally, when you are arrested on a warrant you will go in front of the judge at the next earliest convenience, somewhere in the neighborhood of one or two days depending on what day you got arrested. In my case I was held for five full weeks before I saw anybody wearing a full length black robe.
Allow me to back up a bit and tell you what it is like to be arrested and then I will take you through the process of being put into the county jail. I have already informed you that I have been arrested on more than one occasion and I will add that my life until this point has been a domino effect of chains and heartache. At any rate, I was arrested in January right after Christmas. I had the day off from work and I had picked up my check and was on my way to the bank and I guess you could say that the day started off as if it was going to be beautiful. I was stopped on the street by a police officer at about 1:30 in the afternoon and I made no issues about stopping and answering his question. I had been questioned before for what I like to call, (DWB) driving while black, and so to me it was just an inconvenience that would take up anywhere between 5 to 10 minutes of my time. Yes, I was a bit annoyed but it was just a part of being me at the time. Sometimes you get pulled over and sometimes you went to jail and that was just the chance you take. I saw my life in a very dim light and I lived everyday in the moment, and somehow I considered the way I lived to be much richer and fuller than those who simply accepted the mundane and scheduled lives they led. The officer ran my name and the rest is history, I went to jail, but not quietly. I put up a big huff and puff show and before you knew it the officers were wrestling me to the ground and people were driving by in the cars, breaking their necks to get a good look at the show in the street. I wasn’t ashamed of myself or anything like that, I was just angry.
I arrived at the jailhouse and was led into an area, known as the pit. It is a holding area where you just wait until it’s your turn to be booked. There are four steps leading down into the shallow pit and about five rows of six blue plastic chairs. In the middle of the pit there is a dividing wall to separate the men from the women and on the wall there are phones that can be used, that is if anyone will accept. From the moment I walked into the jail until the moment I was taken to the pit I still had not really had the dose of reality I so dreadfully needed. I smelled the overpowering smell of household cleaners in high concentration and I heard nothing. I had so many thoughts going through my head that it was as if I had gone deaf to the outside world. I was so consumed with my own thoughts that nothing else mattered. I sank down as deep as I could into those unforgiving blue chairs and managed to fall asleep. When I woke I had been in the pit for about six hours and now I still hadn’t been allowed to make my non collect phone call. So I started to complain to the officer in charge and after about another half an hour I was finally able to call my girlfriend and let her know that I would not be home for dinner and why. I was still under the assumption that this whole ordeal would be over shortly and when I got off of the phone I was reassured that things would be taken care of.
Then the booking process started and it is a cycle to say the least. I was asked to step out of the pit and up to the guard station and then I was bombarded with a battery of questions by some slightly attractive lady cop. Questions regarding demographics and some related to mental health like, “have you ever attempted suicide Mr. Moller?” After initial questioning I was photographed and then fingerprinted and asked to return to my seat. It was going on eight hours now and I still hadn’t made it past the first few checkpoints, but all I kept thinking about was how good it would feel to make it to my cell so I could fall asleep and see the judge the next day. Still before long I made it to the last step in the process of being booked in and that is changing your clothes and putting on my new Greene County issued Bob Barker jumpsuit. An office led me to a changing area where I was asked to strip out of all of my clothes and follow all instructions. I stepped into the room and it was only as big as a man’s closet with a little open window so that the guard can watch my every move. I dropped my pants and lost my shirt along with all my other undergarments and I waited to be handed my change of clothes while the officer bagged and tagged my personal things. In this jail they give you a half a bar of soap and a Dixie cup full of some kind of generic lice treatment that everyone must use before entering the jail. You must take a shower as well but I knew from experience that the water would be ice cold. I wanted to get everything over with as soon as possible and just get to my cell but things would not be that easy. I reached for my new clothing from the officer but he demanded that I go through the whole rigmarole of proving that I was not smuggling anything into the jail and that is when things got a little dicey. I told him very flatly that I would do no such thing. I was never forced into doing anything so degrading before and I wasn’t going to start today at his request. He asked me again to lift my scrotum for him and I again met his request with a firm, hell no. He asked me just wasn’t any way that I was going to do that. I think that he wanted to press the issue even more but then he caved in, apparently not wanting to deal with another belligerent individual that evening. He called me a few unsavory names and told me to hurry and get dressed and so I did. The showers in booking are stainless steel and about the size of a double wide coffin, just big enough to turn around in. When I emerged from the shower, I felt a few degrees colder but I was ready to end my night and go to sleep. I slipped into the hunter green jumpsuit that night and into the only thing I would wind up wearing for the next six and a half months. It was the beginning of a long overdue process that would leave me forever changed. It was the end of everything I knew about living and the beginning of things that my grandmother had prayed for me all those years ago. I entered cell block D as 140932 and I left a shell of a man waiting to be filled.

Iron Curtains
I just found out today that my ex-fiancé has been traveling down the wrong road like I was and it bothers me. I can’t even begin to explain why that is or try to describe what emotions come wrapped inside this package. An old friend of mine told me she had been hanging out with this girl who happens to be a two time loser. Twice she has been convicted of felony charges and she has been to jail on more than one occasion. When we were together I tried to keep her out of my troubles to the best of my ability and I was successful. She never saw the bad places I saw and part of me is glad that I was able to lead her down a walkway that wasn’t parallel to my own. My friend told me that over a period of about six months while I was in jail that they had gone out to stores and stole purses and little stupid, unnecessary items for fun. After a while she didn’t think twice about what it was that she was doing and it broke my heart to hear the news. About five months ago he said that she was arrested for 2nd degree burglary and theft. I heard him out but most of me did not want to believe that she would stoop so low. I never stole and none of my friends were thieves so I just couldn’t bring myself to believe that she would. After he left I went down to the local coffee house and brought up her name on Missouri case net dot com, and sadly there she was. Along with another charge no one had told me about. My first instinct was to shake her from my thoughts right then and there but I couldn’t. Then I started thinking about all the times she stayed by my side when I found myself behind concrete walls and steel doors and I began to feel sort of confused. We have not been together for almost a year now but I don’t want her to have to suffer in that place the way that I did. I began to think about how it seems like when you’re going down you tend to have wound up surrounding yourself with the kind of friends who bail on you. You become involved with the kind of fly by night buddies who are there one minute and gone the next. Tomorrow I will go down to the jailhouse and put a hundred bucks on her books and see about visitation. The position I put myself in is one of personal choice. Sometimes the only way a man or woman learns from their mistakes is to find out what it is that they want and choose. Some people choose to allow all the bad choices they make to pile up on them until the weight of it is staggering. Other people can be warned once and they will have such a fear of the consequences that they will choose not to go down that path. I would hope that I could talk to her and try to steer her way from all this nonsense and point her in the direction of a good attorney but she is so hard headed sometimes. Over the past few months I have prayed for her and I have hoped that even if we aren’t meant to be together that she be able to find happiness in whatever she replaced me with. This just puts a whole lot into perspective and the more I think about it the more I wonder what the right thing to do is.

Iron Curtains
I just found out today that my ex-fiancé has been traveling down the wrong road like I was and it bothers me. I can’t even begin to explain why that is or try to describe what emotions come wrapped inside this package. An old friend of mine told me she had been hanging out with this girl who happens to be a two time loser. Twice she has been convicted of felony charges and she has been to jail on more than one occasion. When we were together I tried to keep her out of my troubles to the best of my ability and I was successful. She never saw the bad places I saw and part of me is glad that I was able to lead her down a walkway that wasn’t parallel to my own. My friend told me that over a period of about six months while I was in jail that they had gone out to stores and stole purses and little stupid, unnecessary items for fun. After a while she didn’t think twice about what it was that she was doing and it broke my heart to hear the news. About five months ago he said that she was arrested for 2nd degree burglary and theft. I heard him out but most of me did not want to believe that she would stoop so low. I never stole and none of my friends were thieves so I just couldn’t bring myself to believe that she would. After he left I went down to the local coffee house and brought up her name on Missouri case net dot com, and sadly there she was. Along with another charge no one had told me about. My first instinct was to shake her from my thoughts right then and there but I couldn’t. Then I started thinking about all the times she stayed by my side when I found myself behind concrete walls and steel doors and I began to feel sort of confused. We have not been together for almost a year now but I don’t want her to have to suffer in that place the way that I did. I began to think about how it seems like when you’re going down you tend to have wound up surrounding yourself with the kind of friends who bail on you. You become involved with the kind of fly by night buddies who are there one minute and gone the next. Tomorrow I will go down to the jailhouse and put a hundred bucks on her books and see about visitation. The position I put myself in is one of personal choice. Sometimes the only way a man or woman learns from their mistakes is to find out what it is that they want and choose. Some people choose to allow all the bad choices they make to pile up on them until the weight of it is staggering. Other people can be warned once and they will have such a fear of the consequences that they will choose not to go down that path. I would hope that I could talk to her and try to steer her way from all this nonsense and point her in the direction of a good attorney but she is so hard headed sometimes. Over the past few months I have prayed for her and I have hoped that even if we aren’t meant to be together that she be able to find happiness in whatever she replaced me with. This just puts a whole lot into perspective and the more I think about it the more I wonder what the right thing to do is.

Without fail, every night I find myself full of regret when faced with the thoughts of who I really am. No one knows the real me and it just, flat out stinks when you live a double life. Often I have to check myself in order to keep that old sinful man in line with the desires of my heart. Inside me, one man is outgoing and eager and the other is introverted and unhappy. The good man is timid yet generous and kind. The bad man dives head first into his life without the slightest care for anyone else but himself. The bad man is a thrill seeker and the good man is a fire fighter who is actively involved in the lives of his friends and family. I often ask myself how and why this duo coexists. I ask myself how can there be peace.
On the nights when I happen to dream I am plagued by the poor decisions I have made and I am made a fool when I can finally see what I should have done. Sometimes I will happen to notice a nice couple holding hands and the sight of their closeness is like a dagger. Their smiles dredge up photo like memories, seemingly insignificant things that I have stashed away, in a place where I pray they can do no more harm. Still, I grind my teeth in my sleep until small bits break under the pressure and in the morning I am always in need of a few aspirins and a cigarette. When I brush my teeth and tongue I often look in the mirror and recite a few, necessary lies, telling myself things will be alright, if only I could make it through the moment. Then I take a breath and nothing has changed and that bad man mocks me, telling me how stupid I am for denying myself. Why don’t you stop in the bar and remember what it tastes like to have a beer or two among friends. Remember how much fun you used to have he says, and his voice echoes in my mind. The good man in me crawls out of his shell and tells that intimidating persona, that he can shove his bar beauties and he can keep his nightlife. And as he nestles back inside his hideout he prays for love.

Sometimes I would rather not do so much talking but instead I choose to listen to others. I watch what people are saying to one another and I try to take notice of when those I am friends with are going through. A friend of mine was having relationship problems recently and I did my best to listen to him and try and provide some advice for him. He told me that his girlfriend didn’t seem to be that in to him, or at least as into him as she had been previously. While I listened to him I had to bite my tongue in order to keep myself from spewing something unnecessary or out of some emotional need. I wanted to tell him about what I thought for a while and I didn’t want him to take my personal view points too seriously because I know that I could be wrong. I just listened for a while and then he finally asked me my opinion without holding back to spare any feelings. So I told him what I thought but things were still a bit censored because people say they want to hear the whole truth without the sugar coating but that’s not what they honestly want. I think they want to hold their hand while they talk themselves out of their own troubles or just be told what they want to hear in other words than the ones playing in their own head.

I wanted this school year to be more productive in light of the fact that I did almost six months of jail time last year and I spent another month trying to appease the probation board so that I can try to love a normal life again. You might be asking yourself, what is normal, and I tell you I don’t know. All I know is that my life a year ago was far from what I wanted it to be. I sat in a jail cell for months hoping and praying to someone I didn’t know that I didn’t wind up in a Missouri prison.
In 2005 I was out doing no good with some people whom I guess you could consider friends and I got into some trouble. My buddy’s dad was living with us at the time and I was smoking a little pot with him. He had just been released from the hospital after successful hydra cell surgery and was in a lot of pain. For those of you who don’t know what that are it’s when the doctors take one of your testicles out to operate on it and then they put it back in basically. Like I said, he was in extreme pain and I was just kind of hanging out with him getting high and watching television, wasting time. We were expecting company and he just let a few people out a few minutes prior to our intrusion so when we heard the knock on the door we just assumed that our guest had returned. When the door swung open all I could see was the bright lights from the police flashlights and the distinct look of gunmetal. I tried not to panic but when you’ve got warrants out for your arrest, it is difficult to stay calm when the law starts beating down your door.
Now you should be informed that while I was watching television with the old man and prior to the cops showing up he had gave me a couple of his prescription pain killers to give to my girlfriend until she got the cash to refill her own prescription. (She used to pass kidney stones once or twice a year and would be in terrible pain.) So when the police showed up I was smoking pot and scrambling around trying to get rid of any visible evidence of paraphernalia. I had completely forgotten about the pills I had stuffed inside my jeans and to make a long story a shorter one I wound up getting arrested for possession of a controlled substance that day.
That sort of lifestyle used to be normal for me and now I couldn’t see myself drinking a beer with friends in any sort of social setting. I used to work dead end jobs and now I am a full time student and this as become normal for me all of a sudden.

hey

Today for me will be about becoming a more passionate person because it seems like lately all the passion for the things I want have been drained right out of me. I know I want to be a good person and possibly open my own business and realize this american dream but besides that I don't really think I can completely own any one thing. But the assignment was not to invent ways to not be passionate but instead to right about something you love. Still what if you are all out of things to get worked up about and so desensitized to the world's flaming arrows that nothing seems to get under your skin annymore. Cause that is where I am. I exists in a state of I don't know what is next and I hope that I can allow God to lead me into avenues of right and wrong and trails of happiness someday but for fight now everday is just the same as the last and I am alk out of reasons to strive forward but I still can't give up. I am in a period of waiting.
I love basketball but I don't play it anymore. I love to write also but I don't really practice that either. Give me a minute or two to think of something and I will try to tell you about what I am passionate about but you won't like it. I am passionate about doing the right things to people and for them. I want to be the kind of man who makes and impact but I really suck.

I can’t remember if I have written anything concerning this or not but even if I have your going to hear it again. I was reading in the bible about this guy who had cut off the thumbs and big toes of seventy kings and forced them to pick up scraps under his table. On one particular day he and his troops went out conquering and fighting and the lord made it so that all his men were decimated in battle and so he fled. When his enemies found him they cut off his thumbs and big toes and he declared, "The lord has repaid me for what I have done." Later in the same book I read about a different man who made it his mission to kill a certain king. He made a short sword and hid it by strapping it to his thigh, then when the time was right he ran the blade into the king’s abdomen so deep that the handle could not be seen. He was able to sneak past armed guards and out of town before anyone knew what he had done. Only when people did find out about it they pursued him with hundreds of men but he had made it into another city. His friend was willing to hide him in his home and offered the killer something to drink and somewhere to lay his weary head. However the friend’s wife found out the man was a guest in their home and crept up on him in his sleep and drove a tent spike through his temple, and he died. I have been having trouble making all the stories relate in my studies. I mean I get the fact that you reap what you sow but the other tales are just war stories to me and I can’t figure out their significance spiritually.

Ever since I started going back to school I have felt like I have renewed some purpose in my life yet there is still a hollow cavern dug out of all my prior misery that lingers beneath the surface. It begs to be released from its prison and I must keep it at bay on a daily basis. It whispers in my ear about the former pleasures of that retired lifestyle and sometimes I listen. I am at war with myself because I want to do the right things but I want also to feel good again. I want to feel the way I felt when life meant so much less and the consequences of a slip weren’t so high.
I have begun going back to church this year and it has been an interesting journey to say the least. Faith is just so hard to come by these days; it is a high priced commodity, just about the same as gas. It is the fuel that drives our salvation and without it, in the proper dosage, we all go to hell in a decadent hand basket.
At one point I gave myself over t the pleasures of my sinful nature and I did anything and everything I wanted to do without remorse. I made cash the easy way and I never devoted any of my time to helping anyone else. I never would inconvenience myself for anyone because I only cared about myself. If you had asked me two years ago what I thought was the most important thing in the world, I would have answered like a fool. I don’t know for a fact that I have changed all that much either because in my heart I know that I still listen to that voice. The one telling me that I will now and forever be alone.

Sometimes my friends and I will come up with an uncommonly used word and make it our word for the day. Sometimes we will play games to make the school day a little more interesting, like offering ten points for every successful use of the word in a sentence. Then at the end of the day we would make the guy with the least amount of points pay for lunch or beers. Sometimes it would be something like rigmarole or erroneous and other times it would be something like jabberwocky or fiddlesticks. I think that it is a very healthy thing to be able to entertain yourself and those who constantly need to be stimulated by an outside source are lacking in their connection with their inner child. I set out each day with the mindset to not even worry about the day before and to not become burdened by the things that I don’t have. I try not to think about what others may think of me and concentrate on being satisfied with my life as it stands right now. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to do better but it does mean that I am not in a constant state of misery because I can’t seem to see past what I don’t have. So today’s word of the day is touché, and it might just make you laugh if you used it and nobody knew you were playing you own little game. So why don’t you try it for yourself reader, and lighten up your mood, no matter how stressful things can become. Tomorrow’s word for the day is Hobson’s choice, go ahead and look it up, you might just learn something new.

Sometimes we lose track of what is important to us; sometimes we allow our first love to be overshadowed by all the other things in life. I have, in the last six weeks, been so preoccupied with finding a job that I have allowed my studies in school to start to take a back burner to this grind. I have let my bible studies take a back seat to this hustle and I am paying the price for those decisions with my emotional state. In the past six weeks I have been frustrated more than in the past six months and I have let an undercurrent of anger boil to the surface, which should have been buried with that old man in me. So this month I choose to rededicate myself to those things that I hold dear in my heart and I am trying to become a better listener of God’s word and just try not to babble on so much in prayer. What you need to know, if you don’t already, is my God is a jealous God. His word says that you shall have no other gods before him and in His book anything that comes first, before him, falls into that category. His still small voice whispers to me and says, “Phillip, pay attention to what you’re doing” it lets me know when I am in dangerous territory. I am always tempted to do wrong because I, in my very nature am prone to do the things that are easiest, but I, over the years have recognized this in myself.
A few days ago I talked to a woman who was fairly indifferent to religious belief systems. She had the perspective of most of the lost. She believes that there is a higher power in her life but at the same time refuses to call him by name. She has been swayed by the ideas of evolution and incorporated them into her own ideals. She is like most of my friends, who ask, “If God is real, then why do all these horrible things happen.” After about a half hour I had hoped that I explained my points, based on scripture, pretty well, but she was done talking. I think most people just don’t want to be held accountable in the end. Talking with her left me feeling spent and once again I was in a whirlwind of emotions.

I have spent half of my time this spring break looking all over town for employment and the other half I have dedicated to serving lunch at the homeless shelter.
I don’t mind spending my time doing good things in the community like helping others at all. Monday the 24th I volunteered at OTC with the Hope Connection, it is a program geared to help the homeless in any way possible through the Burrell Center. They team up with most of the key facilities in Springfield so that the homeless can try to find housing, food, get identification, medical services and much more. City Utilities showed up as well as Habitat for Humanity to lend a helping hand. The Convoy of Hope provided non-perishable food items as well as bread. Six Area churches showed up to provide those little scripture pamphlets and prayer. People showed up from all over to volunteer to help these less fortunate people and I was just glad that I was able to be a part of that, because it makes me feel so good (plus I got a cool t-shirt).
The thing that has been bothering me is these interviews I’ve been having, it’s just too much drama for me. I saw a flyer hanging up at OTC for a place called Vector and so I called and talked to some rep for the company and they set up an interview with me for three o’clock that same day. I went and filled out the application but even upon entering the building they were in I started to wonder if I even wanted to work there. (I mean I might not be able to explain things to my audience in a way to make them feel like they are in the room with me but I think you’ll get the gist.) So I’m looking around and this guy is giving me some info on the history of the business, things like how large their average sales are and what kind of benefits they offer. Still all while he was talking to me I kept looking around at the condition of the building they were in and the paint peeling off the walls and all of a sudden, my spider sense started tingling. (You know that feeling you get that tells you you’re being set up for a fall).

All my life I have had this love for the game of basketball, and my drive to be the best at what I do and my competitive streak has spilled over into other realms of my life. I started playing basketball when I moved to California when I was eleven and I haven’t ever stopped. It is a land of beaches and oceans and pure energy derived from the people. They have an attitude that keeps them from simply staying indoors and everybody seemed to be going somewhere. If you venture out to Venice beach you can see it all in a nutshell; the women tanning, (among other things) beat boys rocking to the rhythm of their own creative drum, the steroid pumping monster men, the countless kiosk selling their wares, and so much more. People riding boogie boards and surfers channeling their fears into gargantuan powerhouse waves, turning them into a thing of beauty. There are skateboarders and rollerblade crews chopping up their own street courses and the whole vibe screams to everyone, “get out and play!” It was in this land that I learned to run, dribble, and shoot my way past any pain or panic. It was basketball that took me away from the pressures of homework and it was basketball that earned me the praise of my peers. I became competitive because on the L.A. playgrounds, if you lose, even one game, you could be done for the rest of the day. There are so many people trying to get a good game in that hours can go by without another chance to play and so you’ve got to play to win. The brothers out there don’t care if your 14 or 41, the rule in the slums is, if you step up you’d better put up or shut up.
Ten years later, I live in Springfield and I am attending school to become a business major, I don’t think that the rules for the world of high finance are much different. You either produce or you too can be one of the thousands who fail every single year, so bring you’re a game.

Sometimes it is difficult to admit to myself or to anyone else that I was the kind of wicked man the bible talks about, specifically the kind of man talked about in 2nd Timothy 3:6-7.
“ They are the kind who worm their way into homes and gain control over weak-willed women, who are loaded down with sins and are swayed by all kinds of evil desires, always learning but never able to acknowledge the truth.” I preyed on people who were emotionally deprived and I hunted those who were seeking what I could so readily provide. I wanted what was easy and something that I would not miss when it was gone. I wanted something I could pick up and subsequently throw away when I was done with it. I was a man whom had lowered his standards and values to a degree whereby I would put up with just about any kind of person in order to keep myself surrounded by someone. I can stand before an audience and God now unashamed because it was a place in my life that I feel I had to go through in order to be where I am today. They say that whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger but I for one think that in the process of becoming stronger, you just got to break a little. I went through a period where I just did what I needed to do in order to satisfy my hearts desires, even if just for a moment, with drugs and alcohol or in the brief ecstasy of an orgasm.
The last part of the verse talks about a man who is always learning but never able to acknowledge the truth. This is the part I have trouble with even still, because in the back of my mind I wonder have I truly changed. Am I simply going through the motions in order to escape a lifestyle I can’t seem to forget? Do I just posses a “head knowledge” of God the way I imagine him to be, or has His word dipped down into the cavities of my heart?