July 7th, 2004


"Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood."

"Donnie Darko? What the hell kind of name is that? It's like some sort of superhero or something."

"What makes you think I'm not?"

—Gretchen Ross and Donnie Darko, Donnie Darko

Haven't felt much like writing, or much like it'd do any good. More likely I'd just grow more self-absorbed, so I've hung back a bit. Tired of (my)self, and don't think I'm alone in the sentiment.

Leaving for work yesterday morning, I realized just before I hit the door that my sunglasses case was empty in my pack. That's what I'm like lately—I have a purpose, but there's nothing inside, which makes me pretty useless. Yet God can fill me, and then, everything changes.

Donnie Darko may be my favorite movie. The resonance is eerie. Saw it again in the theater on Monday.

I have survivor guilt. Most people don't know that about me. I don't talk about it, but it affects all my relationships.

When I did my six-month evaluation with John last week (hate those), I noted that I'm thankful for the menial parts of my job. Even though answering the phones or making the copies or doing the dishes can get under my skin, they're a blessing. I need to be reminded of humility so that it might take root in me. No service is beneath me, and God help me when I forget it. Most of us forget it. I'm glad He cares to remind me, even a little.

God delights in me. That trumps everything.

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
These dreams in which i'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad World, Mad World

—Gary Jules, "Mad World"
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