Hey Friends
So I get a lot of feedback about my blog. Sometimes people say things like "hey Steve, I really liked that one post about the mini. Why haven't you written anything that funny the past couple of years." Or else they will say "Hey Steve, your spelling errors and typos are embarrassing. Seriously, it's painful."
And that's lead me to believe that my readers are loyal fans that have stuck with me over the years no matter how bad my spelling or how long my absences are. And I thought..."wow...that's weird." But I'm going to operate under the assumption that if you are reading my blog right now, there is a good chance that you actually like reading my blog. That's why I've gone back and categorized some of my favorite entries into an easy to find format. So that all readers, new, and old, can enjoy some of my best posts. (Or, actually, maybe the reason I did it was because I realized that I had posted some things twice, that I couldn't find stuff I was looking for, and that the reason I started a blog in the first place was to keep track of my thoughts, and that's kinda impossible if there is no system.)
Well whatever.
At the bottom of this post I've included some "labels." If you click on the labels they will take you to all my previous posts that have the same labels on them. So for example, all of my favorite "serious" posts are under the label "thoughtful."
All my favorite funny posts are labeled under "classic"
I felt a little presumptuous labeling stuff as "classic" and about half-way through I decided that was stupid, and that I was going to change it. But by that point...I was already half way through. And there was no way I was going back.
A smarter person would figure out a way to post all of these "labels" somewhere permanently. But you are reading my blog, so for now, if you want to find your favorite post, you are going to have to click around through the labels at the bottom. Hope you enjoy!
P.S. There has been some conversation about going back and fixing spelling errors and typos. I think I'm actually going to work on that some, but it's going to take a while, Rome wasn't built in a day...Though I doubt you could compare my Blog to Rome. Few cities though, no matter how small and crappy, were ever built in a day.
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Stones
I trudge along, one foot after another. Left, right, left, right. The sweat stung my eyes but I couldn’t wipe it away. My hands were occupied balancing the burden on my back. Left, right, left right. I have somewhere to get to, and I don’t dare stop. Left, right, left, right. I didn’t start out with so many stones, I added them as I went. Sometimes as I was walking I would see a stone on the ground and think I might need it. Sometimes I went looking for stones because I was afraid I was missing one. Maybe I didn’t have all the right shapes or all the right colors. Some stones I walked right by. But others caused me to stop, stoop over, pick them up with hands raw and cramped, and add them to the sack I carried on my back. Each stone made the sack a little heavier, and caused me to walk a little more hunched over, a little closer to the ground. Left, right, left, right.
Sometimes I look up to see where I’m going. I have somewhere to get to, and I don’t dare stop. But it never seems any closer. Left, right, left, right. When I do look up I see others walkers trudging along too—the same as me. Left, right, left, right. Some of them walk in pairs, some walk alone. Some have lots of stones. Some hardly have any at all. I feel sorry for them. They don’t know they are doing it wrong. You’ll never make it to where you’re going without the right stones. I put my head back down and keep walking. Left, right, left, right. Looking at others makes me nervous sometimes. It makes me wish sometimes that I could drop some stones and walk a little straighter, but I know I don’t dare. More often it makes me scared because I see the stones others are carrying, and I realize I don’t have enough. Some people have more than me…a lot more. Some of them have stones in colors and sizes I don’t have. It makes me wonder if I have enough. Do they feel sorry for me? Will I have the right stones when I get there? Left, right, left, right.
A pair of feet…I stop. I see a man’s feet in the sand right in front of me. I’ve seen this before, but these feet were different. They weren’t moving…and they were pointing the wrong direction. The were pointing at me.
Straining, I crane my neck and look up as far as I can. I don’t dare stand up straight because I might drop my sack, and I don’t think I’d be able to pick it up again if I did. I can just barely see high enough to see the man’s face. He looks concerned.
“Where are you going?” asks the man
“That way” I say, nudging my head in the direction I’ve been walking. I think it’s a stupid question. We’re all walking the same direction, and there’s nowhere else to go. But the man listens intently as if this was the first time he’s heard this. There was something decidedly strange about this man.
“That bag looks pretty heavy,” he says. “What’s so important that you would lug it across this whole desert?”
I’m starting to get annoyed. I think he’s making fun of me. We’ll see whose laughing when we get to where I’m going…if he ever gets there.
I Put my heard down again and brush by him. Left, right, le…
“Seriously, what’s in the bag?”
I see the feet again…he’s still in front of me. I’m not quite sure how that happened. I’m beginning to think the heat might have finally got to me. But I answer him.
“They’re my stones. I need them for where I’m going.”
“I see.” said the man. “Do you want any help carrying them?”
Now my head snaps up. “What did you say?”
“The stones” he replied, apparently not catching my mood, “do you want me to help you carry them?”
I took a step back. The first step back I ever remember taking. (I wasn’t about to forgive him for that.)
“Look here,” I snarled, “I’ve worked too hard and come too far to give up what I have to the likes of you! Why don’t you worry about your own stones and leave me alone!”
The man started laughing. Laughing! He smiled and said “Why don’t I? Because I don’t have any stones!”
I almost took another step back. He was right. I realized for the first time what was so weird about this guy, what really didn’t sit right. He wasn’t carrying a single stone.
“Where’s your sack? Where are all your stones? Do you even know where you’re going? What will you do when you get there?” I was so startled, and not just a little afraid, that I almost stood all the way up for the first time in years. The bag I carried tugged me back and back until I quickly resumed my hunched posture and settled back down again. I adjusted my grip on the sack and took a deep breath as I waited for his response.
“Oh there,” he said with another laugh. “Oh I’m not worried about that. I LIVE there and it turns out you don’t really need any stones. I’ve got enough stones for everyone there…if you’re in to that kind of thing. As a matter of fact you might as well just set those stones down. I mean stones are great and all but I’m more worried about your back at this point.”
Now I’m really scared. I have no idea who this guy is or what he wants but this can’t be good. He could ruin everything. He wants my stones, but he can’t have them. I tighten my grip on my sack again, and then I make my move.
I swung my bag of stones directly at his head.
The man lay there on the ground
I stood still
He might be dead…he might not be. All I know is that he really scared me and I didn’t want to be around him if he woke up. But then again…What if what he said was true. How could I know? Something in me really liked what I heard in his voice when he talked about his “home.” But I don’t really know if I can believe it. Maybe I should wait to see if he wakes up. Maybe if I just set my sack down for a minute and sat next to him, he would come around again and tell me more. Maybe he really could help me carry my stones. Or maybe he would convince me to leave them behind all together.
That thought jarred me back into reality. I would never do that, I could never do that. It was insane. But I hadn’t given up on this man completely yet. I had never met anyone like him ever before. So I did the only thing I could do. I picked him up and put him on my back and began walking again. Left, right, left, right.
I realized quickly that something was wrong. Left, right, left, right. The man was way too heavy. He was heavier than all my stones.
“Impossible!” I thought. He wasn’t even half the size of the bag I was carrying. And even if he was made out of solid stone himself he couldn’t possibly weigh this much. Left, right…left…right.
This was terrible. I was more scared now than I had been any time since meeting the man. I had to get rid of this guy now and leave him far, far, behind.
I stopped, gripped the bag of stones firmly and leaned a little to the left so the man would fall off. I listened for the sound of his body hitting the ground and the lightening of the terrible load that would indicate I had succeeded.
Nothing happened. I leaned a little further. Nothing. I leaned to the right instead. Still nothing. At this point I was near panic. I tried to shake him off, but he wouldn’t budge. I spun in circles and hopped from foot to foot. I couldn’t dislodge this wretched man! I began to run. I sprinted in the direction I had been going as fast and as hard as possible. Maybe I could leave the man behind. Maybe if I got to where I was going before he woke up everything would be ok. Maybe if I found someone else they would help me get rid of the guy.
My breath came in gasps, the sweat was really pouring off of me now, and my knees felt like they were filled with shattered glass. Leftrightleftrightleftrightleftright I needed help, I needed out, I needed this cursed weight off my back.
And then I fell.
I fell and I couldn’t get up. I was done.
There was no pain…in fact I couldn’t feel my legs, but I knew what had happened. I had broken my back. The weight of the man was too much, and now I was finished. I would never get to where I was going now, and I would never have enough stones. I had failed.
I had failed.
I had failed
I had failed
And I began to cry.
And as the tears leaked down my face and into the dry sand I felt a loosening of something inside. Anxiety and fear leaked out of me as well—evaporating in the hot sun as soon as they escaped my body. I had failed my task. Unequivocally and categorically failed to the point that I could never try again. I could stop. I could finally stop and lay down without any stones. The tears came harder now. They were tears of relief.
“Finally decided to put the stones down I see.”
I couldn’t turn my head far enough around to see who it was, but I knew it was the man talking. I wasn’t even surprised at this point. What else could happen? I answered him,
“Well I didn’t really have much of a choice.” The man chuckled a little and I remembered the amused look on his face from before. I assumed he was wearing it again now.
“No, you still have a choice” he said. “I just broke your back, but I could never make you let go. That was your decision.” I wasn’t really sure if this was exactly true or not, but I was too tired to argue.
“Now,” he said “how about getting up so we can go home?”
“I can’t walk anymore. I’ve broken my back. Besides, I’ve walked enough. I’m staying put right here from now on” Then I felt hands grab me around the waist. It didn’t hurt at all, even though I knew it should have. I was turning as he lifted me and then I was looking at the ground again as I was draped over his shoulder.
“Oh you’ll learn to walk again” he said. “But we’re not going to bother with the stones anymore, I think you’ll just walk with me and keep me company. But until that time comes I’ll just carry you.”
And so we set out again—me and the man. Him talking and singing all the while like he didn’t have a care in the world, and me draped over his back like a bag of stones, still crying my tears. Left, right, left, right.
Sometimes I look up to see where I’m going. I have somewhere to get to, and I don’t dare stop. But it never seems any closer. Left, right, left, right. When I do look up I see others walkers trudging along too—the same as me. Left, right, left, right. Some of them walk in pairs, some walk alone. Some have lots of stones. Some hardly have any at all. I feel sorry for them. They don’t know they are doing it wrong. You’ll never make it to where you’re going without the right stones. I put my head back down and keep walking. Left, right, left, right. Looking at others makes me nervous sometimes. It makes me wish sometimes that I could drop some stones and walk a little straighter, but I know I don’t dare. More often it makes me scared because I see the stones others are carrying, and I realize I don’t have enough. Some people have more than me…a lot more. Some of them have stones in colors and sizes I don’t have. It makes me wonder if I have enough. Do they feel sorry for me? Will I have the right stones when I get there? Left, right, left, right.
A pair of feet…I stop. I see a man’s feet in the sand right in front of me. I’ve seen this before, but these feet were different. They weren’t moving…and they were pointing the wrong direction. The were pointing at me.
Straining, I crane my neck and look up as far as I can. I don’t dare stand up straight because I might drop my sack, and I don’t think I’d be able to pick it up again if I did. I can just barely see high enough to see the man’s face. He looks concerned.
“Where are you going?” asks the man
“That way” I say, nudging my head in the direction I’ve been walking. I think it’s a stupid question. We’re all walking the same direction, and there’s nowhere else to go. But the man listens intently as if this was the first time he’s heard this. There was something decidedly strange about this man.
“That bag looks pretty heavy,” he says. “What’s so important that you would lug it across this whole desert?”
I’m starting to get annoyed. I think he’s making fun of me. We’ll see whose laughing when we get to where I’m going…if he ever gets there.
I Put my heard down again and brush by him. Left, right, le…
“Seriously, what’s in the bag?”
I see the feet again…he’s still in front of me. I’m not quite sure how that happened. I’m beginning to think the heat might have finally got to me. But I answer him.
“They’re my stones. I need them for where I’m going.”
“I see.” said the man. “Do you want any help carrying them?”
Now my head snaps up. “What did you say?”
“The stones” he replied, apparently not catching my mood, “do you want me to help you carry them?”
I took a step back. The first step back I ever remember taking. (I wasn’t about to forgive him for that.)
“Look here,” I snarled, “I’ve worked too hard and come too far to give up what I have to the likes of you! Why don’t you worry about your own stones and leave me alone!”
The man started laughing. Laughing! He smiled and said “Why don’t I? Because I don’t have any stones!”
I almost took another step back. He was right. I realized for the first time what was so weird about this guy, what really didn’t sit right. He wasn’t carrying a single stone.
“Where’s your sack? Where are all your stones? Do you even know where you’re going? What will you do when you get there?” I was so startled, and not just a little afraid, that I almost stood all the way up for the first time in years. The bag I carried tugged me back and back until I quickly resumed my hunched posture and settled back down again. I adjusted my grip on the sack and took a deep breath as I waited for his response.
“Oh there,” he said with another laugh. “Oh I’m not worried about that. I LIVE there and it turns out you don’t really need any stones. I’ve got enough stones for everyone there…if you’re in to that kind of thing. As a matter of fact you might as well just set those stones down. I mean stones are great and all but I’m more worried about your back at this point.”
Now I’m really scared. I have no idea who this guy is or what he wants but this can’t be good. He could ruin everything. He wants my stones, but he can’t have them. I tighten my grip on my sack again, and then I make my move.
I swung my bag of stones directly at his head.
(If anyone is still reading with me at this point I’ll ask you to stop for a moment. Maybe a few seconds, maybe a day. I stopped here. This isn’t quite the story I expected to write. At this point in the story I think the reader might be able to make better meaning out of it than I can. What are the stones to you, and would you ever use them as a weapon? I feel compelled to finish writing the story, and I will. But once you’ve read to the end it’s a cliché, it’s the same old story. The story of Christ always ends the same way, and we always focus on the ending. That’s appropriate of course, but the problem with it is that we never appreciate that story the first time we hear it, and we are never surprised by the time we understand it. Overwhelmed sometimes yes, thankful, obviously, but never surprised. But now it’s not quite the same because we haven’t reached the happy ending. Maybe this should be the ending, it is for so many people.
So I hope you leave it here for a while, and I hope you think about. Maybe not for long. I hope you think about your own story. Because once you read my ending the story is full of my meaning, and I’ll never believe that I can speak into your life as well as you can.
I would love it if some of you wrote your own endings. But of course you don’t have to. Not all of you are as obsessed with your own words as I am. And in case any of you were concerned, the second part is a lot shorter than the first part. So this is where it picks up again if you’ve taken some time off. And if you’ve just ignored my recommendations…well that’s ok too.
The man lay there on the ground
I stood still
He might be dead…he might not be. All I know is that he really scared me and I didn’t want to be around him if he woke up. But then again…What if what he said was true. How could I know? Something in me really liked what I heard in his voice when he talked about his “home.” But I don’t really know if I can believe it. Maybe I should wait to see if he wakes up. Maybe if I just set my sack down for a minute and sat next to him, he would come around again and tell me more. Maybe he really could help me carry my stones. Or maybe he would convince me to leave them behind all together.
That thought jarred me back into reality. I would never do that, I could never do that. It was insane. But I hadn’t given up on this man completely yet. I had never met anyone like him ever before. So I did the only thing I could do. I picked him up and put him on my back and began walking again. Left, right, left, right.
I realized quickly that something was wrong. Left, right, left, right. The man was way too heavy. He was heavier than all my stones.
“Impossible!” I thought. He wasn’t even half the size of the bag I was carrying. And even if he was made out of solid stone himself he couldn’t possibly weigh this much. Left, right…left…right.
This was terrible. I was more scared now than I had been any time since meeting the man. I had to get rid of this guy now and leave him far, far, behind.
I stopped, gripped the bag of stones firmly and leaned a little to the left so the man would fall off. I listened for the sound of his body hitting the ground and the lightening of the terrible load that would indicate I had succeeded.
Nothing happened. I leaned a little further. Nothing. I leaned to the right instead. Still nothing. At this point I was near panic. I tried to shake him off, but he wouldn’t budge. I spun in circles and hopped from foot to foot. I couldn’t dislodge this wretched man! I began to run. I sprinted in the direction I had been going as fast and as hard as possible. Maybe I could leave the man behind. Maybe if I got to where I was going before he woke up everything would be ok. Maybe if I found someone else they would help me get rid of the guy.
My breath came in gasps, the sweat was really pouring off of me now, and my knees felt like they were filled with shattered glass. Leftrightleftrightleftrightleftright I needed help, I needed out, I needed this cursed weight off my back.
And then I fell.
I fell and I couldn’t get up. I was done.
There was no pain…in fact I couldn’t feel my legs, but I knew what had happened. I had broken my back. The weight of the man was too much, and now I was finished. I would never get to where I was going now, and I would never have enough stones. I had failed.
I had failed.
I had failed
I had failed
And I began to cry.
And as the tears leaked down my face and into the dry sand I felt a loosening of something inside. Anxiety and fear leaked out of me as well—evaporating in the hot sun as soon as they escaped my body. I had failed my task. Unequivocally and categorically failed to the point that I could never try again. I could stop. I could finally stop and lay down without any stones. The tears came harder now. They were tears of relief.
“Finally decided to put the stones down I see.”
I couldn’t turn my head far enough around to see who it was, but I knew it was the man talking. I wasn’t even surprised at this point. What else could happen? I answered him,
“Well I didn’t really have much of a choice.” The man chuckled a little and I remembered the amused look on his face from before. I assumed he was wearing it again now.
“No, you still have a choice” he said. “I just broke your back, but I could never make you let go. That was your decision.” I wasn’t really sure if this was exactly true or not, but I was too tired to argue.
“Now,” he said “how about getting up so we can go home?”
“I can’t walk anymore. I’ve broken my back. Besides, I’ve walked enough. I’m staying put right here from now on” Then I felt hands grab me around the waist. It didn’t hurt at all, even though I knew it should have. I was turning as he lifted me and then I was looking at the ground again as I was draped over his shoulder.
“Oh you’ll learn to walk again” he said. “But we’re not going to bother with the stones anymore, I think you’ll just walk with me and keep me company. But until that time comes I’ll just carry you.”
And so we set out again—me and the man. Him talking and singing all the while like he didn’t have a care in the world, and me draped over his back like a bag of stones, still crying my tears. Left, right, left, right.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Don't hate me...
For writing this. I'm not trying to take myself too seriously. I don't ever expect the following "parable" to ever mean anything to anyone, or to be forwarded to everyone on your contact list. I just like to write stuff from time to time, and today I thought I would write like this.
One day God came to me in a dream and said to me that like Solomon he would grant me a request supernaturally. I realized that, like Solomon it would be a good idea to wish for my self improvement. So I wished that I would be stronger.
I woke up the next morning expecting to discover a new body stronger than my old one. But sadly I realized that no Spiderman like transformation had taken place. Disappointed I staggered blearily through the dark until I stubbed my toe on an unexpected object. There was a weight bench in my room.
God came to me again in a dream to tell me that he was sorry the last request didn't work out so well for me, so I could try again. This time I thought I would be just like Solomon and ask for wisdom and intelligence. The next morning I woke up expecting to feel smarter. However I still couldn't do the morning crossword. Later that day I went to get the mail, and found an unexpected letter with no return address. It was a recommended reading list.
A third night God came to me again and said I had one more chance. I thought long and hard about what I wanted most, and after much deliberation I figured that God would finally honor my request if I asked for something "good" something that he would want me to ask for. So I asked that he would help me love him more.
The next morning I was wakened by a phone call. It was bad news. Really bad. I thought that because I loved God more it would be easy to take. It wasn't. It hurt worse than ever because I felt like I had been betrayed by God. I didn't feel loving at all, I felt angry.
I screamed at God. "You could have made me stronger without the weight bench, I could have woken up with muscles"
"You're right" he said, "I can do that. But unless you understood what it took to gain that strength you wouldn't understand how to keep it."
"You could have made me smart!" I wailed "you could have put an encyclopedia in my brain"
"You're right" he answered, "I can do that. But you wouldn't value it properly. You would abuse that knowledge."
Finally I had had enough and in utter despair I accused him "But you didn't have to do THIS to me! You could have made me love you without taking away something else I loved more!"
"Actually you're wrong," he said, "I can't do that."
One day God came to me in a dream and said to me that like Solomon he would grant me a request supernaturally. I realized that, like Solomon it would be a good idea to wish for my self improvement. So I wished that I would be stronger.
I woke up the next morning expecting to discover a new body stronger than my old one. But sadly I realized that no Spiderman like transformation had taken place. Disappointed I staggered blearily through the dark until I stubbed my toe on an unexpected object. There was a weight bench in my room.
God came to me again in a dream to tell me that he was sorry the last request didn't work out so well for me, so I could try again. This time I thought I would be just like Solomon and ask for wisdom and intelligence. The next morning I woke up expecting to feel smarter. However I still couldn't do the morning crossword. Later that day I went to get the mail, and found an unexpected letter with no return address. It was a recommended reading list.
A third night God came to me again and said I had one more chance. I thought long and hard about what I wanted most, and after much deliberation I figured that God would finally honor my request if I asked for something "good" something that he would want me to ask for. So I asked that he would help me love him more.
The next morning I was wakened by a phone call. It was bad news. Really bad. I thought that because I loved God more it would be easy to take. It wasn't. It hurt worse than ever because I felt like I had been betrayed by God. I didn't feel loving at all, I felt angry.
I screamed at God. "You could have made me stronger without the weight bench, I could have woken up with muscles"
"You're right" he said, "I can do that. But unless you understood what it took to gain that strength you wouldn't understand how to keep it."
"You could have made me smart!" I wailed "you could have put an encyclopedia in my brain"
"You're right" he answered, "I can do that. But you wouldn't value it properly. You would abuse that knowledge."
Finally I had had enough and in utter despair I accused him "But you didn't have to do THIS to me! You could have made me love you without taking away something else I loved more!"
"Actually you're wrong," he said, "I can't do that."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)