Talking to my ex-colleague. She is curious about my new job. She mentions how she would like to do something else (but who does not?). Then she talks about money; we are young people, we have plans. Stability, money to be saved. No doubt. Having (somewhat) removed myself from the rat-race, it's curious to once again look in from the outside and pity them. But being once a member of the 9-5 pack, it's understandable. The routine is addictive but the emptiness often overpowering.
I remember, when I was younger, how I would endlessly daydream. I crafted hour long movies in my mind (unfortunately the plots and characters and set pieces are forgotten or, perhaps, they have evolved into the stories floating around in my mind today). The fact that I didn't go to school probably made it worse. Even then, when I was still in school, I remember how in the middle of my English class a hole in the ground opened and I slid and fell into a more exciting world.
"But does he love me?" she asks. I'm sorry, but I'm the wrong person. Even a man can only speculate what another man thinks, not to mention feels. "Hmm..." I answered.
My Ancient Near East anthology of texts have arrived, by "standard mail" which as it turns out is faster than international courier (I am still waiting for my other orders sent by this method. Amazon you so weird.). Opening the book, I flip through the pages. Most of the translations are what the layman would identify as "Bible English". But perhaps that might be the most appropriate. In listening to a lecture on Wisdom Literature, the lecturer (most certainly no KJV-onlyist) quotes from the King James Version as it fully "captures the majesty" of the text.
I look at my dear pet, Lane, and feel sad. One day she will die and there will be no chorus of barks to greet us when we arrive home. Again, I go back to my younger days when it first struck me that I will die. In fear I imagined a heaven, a much better place, but could not. And in my more secular times, I imagined a final end of non-existence and could not imagine that as well.
Then I wonder, as my dog looks at me, does she feel sad knowing that I, too, will die?
I remember, when I was younger, how I would endlessly daydream. I crafted hour long movies in my mind (unfortunately the plots and characters and set pieces are forgotten or, perhaps, they have evolved into the stories floating around in my mind today). The fact that I didn't go to school probably made it worse. Even then, when I was still in school, I remember how in the middle of my English class a hole in the ground opened and I slid and fell into a more exciting world.
"But does he love me?" she asks. I'm sorry, but I'm the wrong person. Even a man can only speculate what another man thinks, not to mention feels. "Hmm..." I answered.
My Ancient Near East anthology of texts have arrived, by "standard mail" which as it turns out is faster than international courier (I am still waiting for my other orders sent by this method. Amazon you so weird.). Opening the book, I flip through the pages. Most of the translations are what the layman would identify as "Bible English". But perhaps that might be the most appropriate. In listening to a lecture on Wisdom Literature, the lecturer (most certainly no KJV-onlyist) quotes from the King James Version as it fully "captures the majesty" of the text.
I look at my dear pet, Lane, and feel sad. One day she will die and there will be no chorus of barks to greet us when we arrive home. Again, I go back to my younger days when it first struck me that I will die. In fear I imagined a heaven, a much better place, but could not. And in my more secular times, I imagined a final end of non-existence and could not imagine that as well.
Then I wonder, as my dog looks at me, does she feel sad knowing that I, too, will die?
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