And a few who still believed
Yes I think there were five good men here yesterday
But they were asked to leave
So we've kept the good old vices
And laboured to invent a few
With cake in vulgar surplus
We can have it and eat it, too
—Toy Matinee, "Last Plane Out"
Yesterday, I watched Amélie for the first time. I'd heard wonderful things about it, and while it was well-crafted and often enjoyable, I was disappointed that a tale about the discovery of love culminated in an unmarried couple (who barely know one another, to boot) having sex. Film is art— I'm not trying to dictate what an artist should or shouldn't say. Love is more to me than this, however, and my heart hates to see it so cheapened. It's likewise cheapened in the real world all too often, and that makes me deeply sad.
God intended so much more— how little we trust Him to teach us about love.
(I also dreamed in French last night, which was frustrating, since I don't speak it. Today it has downsized to just thinking in a French accent.)
Many people might be disturbed to open their door in the morning and find "Warning: Asbestos" tape and plastic sheeting wrapped over the door across the hall, but not I. In addition to being in a perpetual state of orange alert, my old career gave me enough of a passing knowlege of asbestos abatement to not be overly concerned. Earlier this week, I learned from my apartment manager that my apartment was built for the boiler tender, back when the furnace for the building was coal powered (which explains why it's the only basement apartment and why it's located directly across from the boiler room). All this to say, there's nothing to worry about.
Great staff meeting this morning; Enterprise tonight with taci, Connor, and Sara. Perhaps I'll write more afterward. There's more on my mind.