The Story I Tell Myself

The story I tell myself is a little vain and self important, I know... but it gets me through today and tomorrow, and keeps my sanity.

I was a child, who grew up in a good household with a loving mother and father. Things were pure, joyful, the angelfish bred, but did not fight. People were silent, but jubilant. I'd watch my Johnny Quest, I'd watch Seaburt and Scamper, I'd watch A-Team and MacGyver. I'd read my stories of George Washington cutting down the Cherry Tree, of Johnny Appleseed and Paul Bunyan, of Jack and Jill, Humpty-Dumpty, Ring Around the Roses, and The Three Little Pigs and Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

Then, I mixed with my peers. And such a vile feeling came over me, that these peers were not right. They influenced me, corrupted me--my heart was malleable and still is to some degree--and they taught me various bad habits.

Then, I sinned. And I sinned hard.

I can't help but blame my peers on the attitude they fostered, to help enable me to be the sinner I was. If they had told me the truth--and not manipulated me--I'd have been stayed from the great suffering I've endured. I'd have been saved from the various crimes I'd committed, because I had peers who told me what was right, instead of what was wrong. Rather than cheer me along for the various cruelties, they would reprimand me for them. And so, this I did not have. Rather, any kindness in me was a vulnerability, which was beaten, bullied and scoffed.

Thus, I developed an attitude where I must tell them right. I must tell them what is true, and give them an honest report of their behavior, which as of lately grown much worse. I sinned, so I can know it's wrong--for having tasted the highest highs with cruelty and lust--I can tell them such a thing is vanity.

Thus, I became a writer, who ought to be a writer, and I worked 20 years fruitlessly on my craft, because some power greater than me stops me. Be it God or Satan, I don't know... but I know I have faith in God's power, and know Him like I would my own. And I know, from listening to Jesus' parables--for His stories have always been my favorite of all time--and His teachings--for the Sermon on the Mount is my favorite thing ever said by any human being--and His Judgment---for the Old Testament is among the sweetest, that the cruelties I have witnessed will not go unpunished--and His forgiveness--for Pauline Epistles give me the sense, that though I've failed hard, I have something to attain in a next life--I have become a complete Master over the art of understanding man, in all his goodness and vices.

Yet, some vile force stops me from making my bread, and keeps me from enjoying the fruits of my success, and more and more, I realize it's the world I lived in all along hated what was good in me, and like a constrictor with a mouse, it squeezed me, until I had no more love.

So I fought back, and kept very much of my love. And so write you this story I tell myself, of why I am a Christian. And no other religion suffices.

Forms of Intelligence

The forms of intelligence, goes:

Reactive: It reacts to things, based on sensory input.

Associative: It recognizes other organisms, and can socialize with them.

Supra-Association: It not only recognizes other organisms, but can communicate with them in albeit primitive ways.

Personal: It recognizes itself as a personal entity.

Existential: It recognizes its own mortality.

Humor: It can have a sense of humor.

It possesses Cathexis: It has creative capacity.

Reason: Only men have this, but it can do complex things like algebra, or read and write.

Communal: It recognizes the needs of others above itself, and it can understand the otherness of a community, and has sacrificial ability to serve others before its own need.

Logocentric: It can properly identify the reality and substance of nature, and rather than be a product of will, it can understand a thing as it actually is, or even as it ought, as opposed to merely willing it to be. As most people understand the world as they will it, not as it actually is.

Prophetic: The ability to reconcile events, and predict future outcomes by assessing their natures in reality, and then forming correct conclusions based on such.

Above that you’re dealing with Angels and Demons and supernatural creatures. But, that’s the form of animal and human intelligence, as a scale.

IQ doesn’t fit on that scale, as someone with a low IQ could possess higher forms of intelligence.

Who did What

Karl Benz invented the Auto. But St. Augustine of Hippo was likely black. He's about 2500 years advanced in his thinking than his time. Even more than modern men. He's probably a 250IQ, and actually speculated on special relativity. And Ada Lovelace invented the first computer program--sort of. Henry Ford invented the first mass produced Auto, and that began the spread of the Industrial Revolution--which probably indirectly caused WWI. England was the first Industrialized nation in coal burning, the Steam Engine was a long line of pioneers and tinkerers, Leibniz and Newton first framed calculus, Edison invented the first lightbulb we could use practically, the Wright Brothers invented Aeroplanes, Arabs first framed Algebra, Indians first framed Zero and Negative numbers, Descarte framed the modern Quadratic equation, but that was ubiquitous for most of human history, Pythagoras brought Babylonian, Egyptian and Tyrish geometry to Europe via Greece, which was perfected by Euclid, Ben Franklin popularized electricity, Gutenberg popularized printing presses. And the United States Military invented the internet and Global Positioning Satellites. The first home computer by Apple and its founders; also the first smartphone. The Chinese invented the first rockets. Russians were the first in space. Americans actually landed a few voyages on the moon. Nikola Tesla invented Radio, Alternating Current and Filo Farnsworth--this I didn't know--invented the Tube which would allow TV to be invented. Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone, and America invented the moving picture. Samuel Morse popularized the Telegraph. Indians invented the first guns. Just to set the record straight.

Rewarder of Faith

I know you are a rewarder of faith.
I know you reward those who diligently seek your face.
Wherefore, I am still poor; I am still alone?
Was it that I had not sought you?
I know without a doubt you are God...
Therefore, I know without a doubt I have sought you
With what I have, and with every moment of my life.
I have held onto you like Jacob had...
Abraham was buried in the grave, bought from Ephron the Hittite---
Abraham who lived from ~2023BC to 1848BC;
The Hittites in Anatolia at the beginning of the Second Millenium,---
Moses writing the book, and Joshua yet had conquered the land.

I Live By the New Testament, While My Adversaries Die By the Old.

The Compliment is Cheery

The compliment is cheery,
But then the thoughts grow dreary,
To think, "Ah I am this, so I will!"
Yet, the State of its being
Is what it is, regardless of thinking
So continue in the thing you once did.
For our world is full of liars
Who think, "Just because I will I'm wiser ,"
They will upon reality what they will.
Therefore, so you don't end up dead
Do the things according to what's real instead.

Noisy Gong

I have  a heart, not a PhD's acumen---
I am a poet not a scholar,
For in my heart is the laude of Love.
I write an ode to every Prelude
That Desire and Philoi
Are the songs I sing...
Imbued in my tongue is the kiss of life.
It is apricot and apple; honey and tea,
I cannot write or constrain myself to reason
But must make my thoughts profound and lovely.
For I am not a noisy gong, trapped in passionless
Embers put out by the quenching of a spirit
Quaffed  by Academic vacuums.

Quidditch

You think about Quidditch in human terms
It doesn't make much sense.
But you think of it in Wizard terms,
It puts Harry in the center of the game--
Where now Harry is the center of the plot.
It is a symbol, that Harry is the most important
Player out on the field, therefore the novels.

Not only that, in a Quidditch Game,
It's like Lacrosse, which can score 15 points
In 90 minutes. Scoring in Quidditch can be 10 points
So in 600 minutes--a short game of Quidditch--
An average score for a short game of Quidditch 
Would be about 500 points.
Add to that, the Seeker doesn't always want to find the Snitch
As it could result in their team losing the match,
So there's the added obstacle of the other Seeker 
As well as the crafty snitch.
And games can last about 80 hours
With Wizards in their supernatural long lives
And magical endurance.

All in all, it's a proper game for Wizards--near immortals--
To play.

What concerns me, is the average reader pooh poohing it
Because they don't think outside of the box.
You don't read a novel, to try and defeat its author;
You read it, and try to vindicate the author
As you might just find they thought about it more than you do.

Mr. Bonhoeffer

Mr. Bonhoeffer, what would you do,
If your fellow man were like Hitler?
If every person you met, were like him?
This is the current age I live in,
And while reading your words
I am angered over a heretic, but mistaking him as you.

You do not understand the domain of hell
And why it exists, until you see the depths of evil
Plummeted by the people around you.
However---you lived in an evil time, too.
How, my brother, am I to love the loveless?
How am I to have mercy on the merciless? 
How am I to have amnity toward a people whose joy
It is, to suffer, and cause suffering for all by their hedonism?
To strangle with their cruelty all the good out of the world?

I do not exaggerate my calling...
This is how evil the people of my generation are.
So... while I respect your soft spoken word
This world needs discipline.

While I am a sinner too---
That is the gospel, that I can be saved.
And you preached repentance, did you not?
What of a world who hates the very word?
What of a world who hates me,
A Christian? Do not the Amalekites need to be destroyed?
Did not the Nazis need to be slaughtered?
I'm afraid I cannot be soft spoken,
For fear of these men's souls.
For if there is no fear of God in them,
They must have fear; for the heretic was wrong.
There is indeed a place of eternal torment
And rightfully, I understand the hearts who deserve it
And mine being one of them at a previous hour
Was transformed by Grace, so I know there is yet hope.

Headcase

Like Hitler, he meticulously makes his formulae.
He crafts his novel for the generation at once.
He tells me to "Exhaust all literature"
Gladly, for at least I had done work
And gave something of myself...
Not a hollowed out shell of cruel marketing.