Why is winter so hard on the creative mind?
Author walljm
walljm
I have been writing on the web since 2000. I am a christian , a photographer, an occasional poet, a recovering dreamer, an occasional philosopher, a software developer, an autodidact, and I resemble the INFP personality type.
Life happens in waves, or at least big things occur in that fashion. You might be walking through life, wondering when things will happen. You may not be able to see into the future and concieve of what you dream coming true. Yet if you remain faithful to the little things, being diligent with God’s commands as you know them now, the waves will come. It has been my experience that things happen in waves. They don’t come a little bit at a time, making things easy to handle. No, they come all at once, when things are ripe. And…
This is perhaps a post in bad taste, though that is not my intention. I do not wish in anyway to detract or cast a shadow on the loss of the Columbia. The loss is indeed great, and the grief of the families and friends involved must be very hard to deal with. The main point of my post is that there seems to be an incongruity in the reaction of Americans to tragedy. Seven brave men and women died returning home on the Columbia, and with due regard, we as Americans stepped up and mourned with the family and…
New Poem, Oh Sweet the Rapture of His Love
Oh sweet the rapture of His love How gentle are the nail scarred hands How precious is the wounded side That bore such pain for Love’s demands That bore such pain for Love Precious Jesus, God and King Precious Jesus, Anthems Ring Praises to the Holy Dove Praises to the God above Oh sweet the rapture of His Love Oh rugged cross, Oh symbol bare That bore my Holy God and King An emblem of great sacrifice His selfless act loves message brings His selfless act of love Precious Jesus, God and King Precious Jesus, Anthems Ring Praises to the…
New Poem, Bewildered Basket Weaving (inspired by Mandi!)
How does one behave when nutty Making baskets and with the bewildered My life has turned into some putty Weaving pond frond still unhindered This my work, my joy, my rapture Beside a river full of reeds In and out the pond fronds go The flowing river is the giver Baskets full and baskets flowing I derive my joy in turn From all the myriads of uses Bewildered baskets made of fern Now to end this ode to leaf A mind half empty not quite there I beg of thee give me relief From this quiet morning air
Well… I’m back. In retrospect, last week was one of those experiences that you find yourself glad you went through, but are even gladder you’re through with. *grin* To give an idea, for those who have been wondering at my more than usual absence, I spent 115 of the 192 hours available in the last week working. I spent roughly 40 hours running errands, relaxing a bit, going to church and what not, which leaves 4.6 hours of sleep on average. I’ve known people who have done far more, but this poor boy is tired. Now that I have enough…
It seems as though words escape me, failing to describe my present state. Yet I feel that you, my reader, deserve my thoughts. This is a task that I get more out of than you, so I begrudge you not this pleasure. But I am berift.
Chase Livingston is he who walks in arid regions of the mind. The product of a few fading pools of imagination, he writes a soft soliloquy. His plight I felt and thus enjoined I penned this piece of praising prose… an empty ocean that i splashed dry and i walk the shore that was no more but now a desert sea and fading memory small pools of water a sun grown hotter the soil of my brain is in need of rain and it is clear i’d joy for water near All credit for the above poetry is due Chase…
You know you’ve been programming to long when you wake up and realize you’ve been dreaming in Javascript. I can’t for the life of me remember exactly what it was, but it had something to do with church, Paul the Apostle, and Javascript Array’s and Objects. I’ve gotta get out more…
Much accomplished, much to do… I’ll see you in the morning.
In the midst of fatigue, the hardest part of a task is finishing the last ten to twenty percent. It is at this point in most projects that I am want to give up. In truth, I give up often at this point. I’m tired, and the rewards no longer seem worth the effort. What I don’t think about usually, when at this point are two things. First, the rewards that initially prompted me to start, but also the reward of finishing. I think such an accomplishment is underrated in my mind. I am going to finish this project. Sure,…
In the wee hours of the morning I find myself awake. I am in a state of not desiring wakefulness, yet bounding with energy. While in the throws of chemical delusions, caffeine that dark and ichorous substance, my friend and my nemesis, I hail thee. God was kind to me this evening. I found myself embarking upon an adventure into territory I had not trod before, and the mountains that I saw before me were more than I could see my way through. Yet with my intrepid companion, and a most merciful God, we marched through fiery trial, sore and…
New poem, Playing Pool
Beneath the soft dim tungsten lights Small worlds collide with random purpose Intent upon the stratagem It flies across the soft green surface A battle on a cosmic table Arrayed in lines like Pythagoras Slowly each small world has fallen And in the end they all have left us
I have finished the first volume of William Jones Church History, and I’d like to jot down a few notes before launching into the second. It is often told to me that only the Catholics can claim that their history goes back to the time of Christ. Such claims are uninformed. Though much of history is obscured due to the affliction of those who opposed the church of Rome, the record of the Novations, Paulicians, the Christians in Piedmont valley in 800 A.D. who were taught by Claude a bishop there, and the Waldenses who came some hundred so years…
James Lileks is my hero
The Handy Slogan Generator!. What will the think of next?
New poem, Utter Dependence of God.