Wir sind leben in ein melo Lubrasine

I love the rain. Rainrainrain fall on my head, stream down my face, turn my extremities blue. Rainrainrain smell so frisch, wasche away the filth daß accumulates in this crazy life. The rain inspires me to acts of creativity; it prompts me to get off my lazy butt and tun etwas. The rain--and even more so, the fog/mist that often accompanies it--possesses enough magic to even transform the bedrückend junkyards of Abilene into a land of enchantment. So why the hell am I living in a place that almost never receives the blessed gift of rain?

Ich swear, ob I lived in the Northwest I would blossom like the recently planted oregano daß ist sitze in mein window at this very moment. Oder, I suppose, like the colorful bouquet ich hat gestolen from someone else's rainy blogpost. I run every single time it rains. With the soothing voice of the rain cooing in my ear I'm transported back in time to the Tage in which I actually gave a damn about my life. I'm productive, I'm upbeat, I'm rapturous--pretty much the opposite of the average Texan's response in every possible Weg. I hate the „wenn doch nur“ game, but I'll be damned if I can't stop thinking about of a person I would be had this futile texas experiment nie come to be.


The what-ifs snuck up behind mich heute weil ich war hardening my footpads to the tune of "Yellow Submarine" sung in an eclectic mix of Deutsch und gibberish und slipped a dagger right between the third and fourth vertebrae of my mind. I suppose SG-1 is at least partly to blame, as they've been hitting the parallel-universe plotline pretty hard lately. Regardless of the cause, Ich muß have done something to aggravate the gods of memory for them to send this little gremlin my way: what if meine Eltern had nie left texas, sondern settled in and raised their family in Lubbock? I wouldn't even recognize myself; I would hate the winter, having no Verstehen de la the beauties of Schnee; I'd have never had the experience or ability to escape "die Stadt," it's very possible I'd have never known the joys of Fußball or bicycling...the life of that Tom seems unbearably bleak. If I had the ability to transverse the multiverse, I would hunt down that Tom and eliminate him--and he would thank me profusely, desperately and embarrassingly grateful to be put out of his misery. Same with the Tom that ever dachte Abilene was ein gut idea--although it is true that I never would have come to my current, soul-deep appreciate for the finer places in life. I suppose that's something "positive" Abilene has given me to go along with the depression, heartache, underachievement, isolation, and all-around futility which defined that hellacious period of my life (and still do, though to a considerably lesser extent).

Also, I'm not going to get into it heute Abend since it's now 1.30 and ich noch wolle zu sleep, but scheisse! this Woche (Monate, Jahre) have proven witness to a dramatic increase of my awareness of the bigotry that surrounds me in my Haus, my Kirche, my own soul! It's truly disturbing how pervasive such a worldview has been throughout my entire life and how pathetically unaware I was of my own complicity. I am still in quite the desert of the soul, yet every direction I turn in the hope of finding an escape only serves to lead me further and further away from the water. How can I trust my faith when it--and the people I truly love and respect who taught it to me--has encouraged persecution of the downtrodden, closed hearts and minds off from the beseeching whisper of grace, and even proven at its most basic and fundamental roots to be either a) false; a skewed and twisted misinterpretation of the inherent beauty of the cosmos or b) true, and absolutely despicable in its infinite loop of futility, desperation, and brotherly hatred. Ich glaube daß, die nextes post ein credo sollen sein.