A Link to the Past

Things were bad I won't lie, you were all gonna die but you're all alive because I kick arse, so you're welcome I guess. Either way I'm the best. There's a bunch of Links each of us distinct but I'm the best. I am number one, look how fast I run and I'm really fun. Guess I'm just blessed. Yes, I saved light and dark worlds, Zelda too and like six other girls. My quest was epic and long as is my dong. I bring bad guys to their knees, no no no no, no autographs please. I'm a gift to you from the gods, just admit you want my babies. You're like "wow sacra bleu we were deep in poo poo but Link showed up and waaaalaaaa we were free!" You were lost, stuck in bed, you were basically dead but you're all alive because of me. So you're welcome, no prob, I did a great job but I just did what you would've done! That's a joke obviously because it had to be me! I'm the Link who's the link to the past! 

Celestial Creatues

I keep my knees black and blue because they often hit the hardwood floor and I believe so I'm not praying to the ceiling anymore. 

Feels like I've been away for a thousand years, I'm tired of all these airports and souvinirs. I shiver in the night and I think of you, I stroll the boulevards, I stare up at the stars and wish they'd all align. You keep me on my toes, you never leave my mind. I'll send you the sunset I love the most, I'll melt in the moonlight and follow the shoreline on down the coast. I wonder all alone in the pouring rain, ride shotgun on the wind in a bullet train. I'm missing you and I'm thinking it out loud, I wish I could reach out and hold you close.

Maybe I'm Dreaming

Dive in, and swim away from your loneliness and miserable days. For this is the future and you are alive.

Wicked Little Machines

Captains and Cavalries forming empires in the shade of trees, without hesitation, we the King and Queen of the forest town were holding the ocean down. All the images and sounds, super imposing to old backgrounds. We used to be clumsy, lost in a thousand ways, Captivated by the craze, hold your hands down. Suspicion rose in our head It was only underneath the beds, Saline eyes didn't have to hide. They were always open way too wide, way too wide. Turn up the noise, dressed to the nines. 

Sharks Keep Moving

Sometimes I imagine I’m going to walk into a hotel elevator and meet someone during the trip to the lobby who will end up playing a role in the rest of my life. It’s as though the encounter is seconds away from willing itself into existence at any given moment, and had I a digital countdown, I could lean against the wallpaper and let the elevator doors open and close while I watch the second hand tick its way down to my rendezvous with destiny. On one hand, I’d have all the vernacular ammunition I’d ever need for a straight shot of eloquence, but to somehow convince myself that such a sacred encounter happening this way would be “theoretically ideal,” that would be like training my voice to speak with a harsh accent that hurts my ears. It’s not about destiny at all because Darth Vader ISN’T MY REAL DAD!!!!!!!1!! The bleakness of such a habitually forgetful/inattentive disposition unnerves me but it’s also what keeps me remembering where I am and what I’m supposed to be doing.

So in a way, musings like these have purpose. Or at least challenges I can benefit from.

Twenty years from now I imagine I’m going to feel like I missed out on something profoundly heartfelt when I look back on this pivotal scenario and the way it played out. Even if I loosen my grip long enough to steal an introspective moment out on the balcony, somehow I believe I’ll catch myself thinking, “I wish I’d been more assertive!” instead of idly letting life play out scene-by-scene in front of me. Maybe that’s just preconcerted apathy but my brain tends to harbor some deep-rooted necessity to keep reminding me that this fateful meeting could happen at any moment (and of course it could) but more importantly, that I be ready and waiting in the wings to handle it the way I’ve already anticipated.

It’s annoying but I’m so glad it doesn’t work like this. The caveat is that there’s NOTHING to be ANTICIPATED, or rather, it’s not my job to worry about it.

Call it the common dwellings of reticent people but at the end of the day, it’s all smoke and mirrors. My mind is a house standing against a background of sheltering trees that cannot protect it from every whip of wind that bends quasi-romantic intellectual faculties into deviations of straight lines; rigid projections of backbones that show signs of curving or arcing over time.

But I don’t worry about it.

But more than this, I’m deeply comforted to know that no amount of absentminded woolgathering can reconstruct “the plan” into something that I must practice or rehearse for, even if I wanted to. It will be unplanned, unpremeditated, extempore, unconstrained, unforced, and the thought becomes more beautiful the more I think about it (or perhaps the more I try not to).

Above and beyond all of this, I take great joy and comfort in knowing my Savior has it all blueprinted and planned down to the tiniest detail, and that my job isn’t to blubber and worry about the design — but to hush. To be concerned with the principles of morality, servanthood, discipleship and character, and ultimately, to trust.

For what is faith without trust?

How To Tell An Octopus From A Dolphin

The porpoise may well be our only hope. The octopus, by contrast, may well be our greatest enemy.

It is critical to distinguish between these two — one savior, the other archnemesis; one shining day, the other blackest night; one yang, the other yin, except in this case there’s no yang in the yin and no yin in the yang. But anyways.

It’s a well-known fact that an octopus can camouflage itself so that it looks like rocks or other underwater features of submarine landscape. The secret behind their color capability is a special skin cell called a chromatophore. Each chromatophore consists of three bags of pigment and by squeezing or expanding these bags, octopuses can change the color displayed by each cell, allowing millions of subtle combinations. Sneaky little menaces.

So if you thought they are always the same color then you obviously don’t know the first thing about octopuses.

How would you sum up an octopus in three words?
Vicious, vicious killers.

How about nine words?
Vicious, vicious killers who know exactly what they’re doing.

Can’t legal means be brought to bear?
Unfortunately, no. Octopuses, as they well know, are technically outside the reach of our laws and judicial systems.

What can I do?
It’s natural, after learning about what octopuses are really all about, to want to help in the effort to defend against them, but I’m afraid that it may already be too late. Despite this, there are some things we can do, and the valiant power of the human spirit (and the American Spirit!) are things that give us hope even in these times of woe. Here are some ideas, drawn from the playbook of real-life:

01. Spread the word.

02. Put up signs in your neighborhood explaining what’s wrong and how we’ve been misled by our own government (it’s not unpatriotic to criticize the government — what’s unpatriotic is not to care). Here are some slogans you can use for signs:

"The octopus is upon us!"

"If you were an octopus, where would you hide? In the den of Satan!"

"If squishy, squishable bodies are any indication of goodness, then octopuses must be saints! But in fact it’s the opposite — they’re the devil!"

"Don’t leave your baby with an octopus." (because it might eat the baby)

03. Be on the lookout for an octopus coming to get you — and if it comes to get you, give it “a little grief.”

04. Write to your member of Congress about the be-tentacled menace… but DON’T give away the game by showing that you know the real, honest truth. They’re all in on it.

05. Arm yourself with sea-salt, often called “Octopus’s-Bane.”

06. Use common sense. I call this the “N.T.O. rule”: Never Trust an Octopus, like with your valuables, purse, power tools, etc. It is liable to eat ANYTHING including a HUMAN BEING.

07. Again, use common sense. Would you leave your son or daughter with a known killer? No? Then why would you leave him/her with a known octopus?!

I think it’s obvious by now that the Octopus Question has no solution, only more questions. But it’s still the case that octopuses are as dangerous as terrorists in most U.S. cities, and in many, twice as dangerous (twice as many limbs to use for evil purposes). But somehow, even though the information is right in front of us, most of our countrymen prefer to snuggle with their wives and kids and thus ignore the ominous threat that looms before us as though it wasn’t even there at all. Classic.

Ignorance may be bliss but it is also a grave problem because knowledge is power, and with power comes responsibility. Responsibility to act. Responsibility to fight with courage and valor. Responsibility to fellow man. An octopus has eight tentacles and knows it how to use them. So, too, must we know how to use the tools that God has given us: our friendships and relationships; our brains and skills; our ability to create technologies that will stand the test of time. This fight will not be easy, nor will it be waged on the cheap. But it must be fought, and, indeed, won. The Octopus is not the Hydra: cut off its head and two more will not appear. It is merely a question of whether we can marshal our resources and act with sufficient speed. It’s true, we are down — but not out.

Are we our brother’s keeper? Only time will tell.