flatulent cats

Dear friends. Dear, dear friends.

Well, I think it is safe to say that I'm actually pretty depressed in life right now. Having, what you might call, a dark night of the soul should only be done occasionally. I'm moving on, though- sunlight is flooding my room, and cats are jumping through the open window. Trying to decide about next steps can be tough, but I am officially emailing my pseudo-aunt Arlene about Pasadena accomodations, and shopping for airline tickets. I feel good about this Fuller thing, even when I don't feel good about anything else.

Rediscovering the blackness of my heart has been sobering, but I believe it will be good for me in the long run. The truth is, I get jealous. I say hurtful things. I think hurtful thoughts, towards myself and others and the Godhead. I have dastardly priorities and dubious emphases. And above it all, I have to come face to face with the man in the mirror (oh yeah) and know I always will. Or woman in the mirror, as my own personal case would have it.

I have decided that I really have an appropriate name- my last name means Black, and I have to remember that's where I am. That I always be, and no good lives within me. But I am also consecrated to God, and there is a hidden Joy that I even often forget about. But it is there. Always, always, always when I am convinced it is over, there is something good remaining. This morning Shelly left a note outside my door, requesting that we start spending a lot more time together. Friends, that is perfectly ok by me. It's not like I'm trying to fill a void with people where God should be (sick that sounds like a crappy Christian lyric) but more like God knows the desires of my heart. I hate being alone. God is good, all the time. I am not, ever. As only LoCurto could say at Adams, "Praise the Lujah!"

On a parting note, I picked up Draco tonight, and he farted. No wonder he's been squirrely all day and clawing at things. Gas always makes me cranky, too.