For some reason, and I really don't know what it is, and even if I did know, which I dont, I might not tell you what it is and I might even go so far as to say I don't know the reason even if I really did, but in this case I don't. I'm just trying to warn you that my writings aren't altogether transparent. Rather, I bend the light (truth) so that you might see (believe) what I'd prefer you to see (believe). Not that I lie. I like to think I create literary illusions, MC Escher/GOB Bluth-like. But still, I probably allude and elude more than I illude (not a real word. oh wait, yes it is. but i didn't think it was when i wrote it.). If you're already lost, then elusion (and maybe even elution, you silly chemists {hey, that's me!}) successful.
But back to the "for some reason." For some reason I remembered today that when I was first up at Walla Walla as a freshman we had to take some sort of entrance exam, only it was like one of those initial assessment surveys that didn't actually mean anything except that Walla Walla statistics people could compare it to the senior exit exams (which I don't remember taking) and brag about how much smarter they made their students. In effort both to help it make WWC feel good about itself (as I would be doing bad on this test and probably good on the later one) and to entertain myself, I used the scantron sheet for that test to help me imagine what my name would look like in pencil-blackened braille bubbles. But I don't know Braille, and all that beginning stuff was just guesswork, so next I went for something a little more tangible. Block Print. This was the result.
OOO?OO????OO?OO?OO?OO?OO
OOO?OO?OO?OO?OO?OO??O?OO
OOO?OO?OO?OO????OO?O??OO
O???OO????OO?OO?OO?OO?OO
well nevermind, it didn't turn out here. the question marks are supposed to be big black dots.
But in the test I was rather pleased with myself, except that it only took me a couple minutes and the test was to last for 45 minutes and we couldn't leave early. Or maybe we could. I forget some of the details here.
But moving along. It was during that test, when I was done bubbling and looking around at other people's answer sheets to see how we compared that I noticed I was sitting next to (by virtue of the alphabetical surname arrangement that testing rooms enjoy so much) a boy who, upon closer inspection, I recognized to be my best friend from third grade, who moved away after third grade.
Oh wait, maybe that's what happened. Time for an emendation. Ok, so maybe we were allowed to leave the test early, but I'd recognized this boy, and for fear of not finding him around campus in the future, I waited until the end of the test so I could say hi to him. And wait I did, and so after the test I reintroduced myself (something I don't particularly mind doing, since I myself have a propensity for forgetfulness in these things; ask any of my second cousins), but upon reintroduction he had exactly no recollection of who I was. Or he decided not to show any recollection, for fear that our friendship of old would somehow now obligate us to reacquaint ourselves. I don't think there's necessarily such an obligation. People force it sometimes, or maybe even so much as often. I'm not saying not to test the waters, I just mean give change a chance. Reminisce about old times, but there's no real reason to try to recreate them (though, the Braves could use Glavine and Maddux these days. And the Lakers probably would be better with Shaq. I bet Jordan still has game. But if you think Gretzky's gonna slip on skates and rake in 200 points in a season or Joe Montana can save the 49ers from another losing season, well do what you want, but I don't want to hear about it).
Every moment passes. Things will get better and things will get worse. Plans will succeed and plans will fail. You will live and you will die (rapture permitting). Everything dies. Mayflies, Mayflowers, radiation, superpowers. Your watch band is going to break. Your car will blow a tire. The Simpsons will go off the air. Oprah will retire.
Is this so bad? Is Michelangelo really better off being immortalized in his Sistine frescoes, or Shakespeare in his stories? DiMaggio in his super streak, or Einstein in his theories? Is Jesus any better off because people pray to him, or because of a Mel Gibson movie? Will you truly be improved if you ace that test, land that job, wear that dress, get that guy/girl, stick that landing, make that sale, donate to charity, go to vespers, call your sis, win that election, get invited to that party, get accepted by that school, or by those people, secure that distinguished prize, resist that urge to gamble or tell a foul joke, or have your seat in that full upright and locked position?
I'm just asking. I don't pretend to know. Or maybe I think I do.
One last thing. You can't cut God out of your life for six days a week and expect everything to be fine for just one in seven. Or, maybe you can, if you're as serious about God as you are The OC, provided you don't think about The OC or talk about it with your friends except for Thursdays. That includes looking up Music From The OC playlists in the iTunes music store, or seeing if the clothes were from Urban Outfitters again, or even making sure that Anna and that girl from the Bad Day music video are one in the same.
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