So yes, I'm not dead, maimed, depressed, brokenhearted, busy, or avoiding you, my reader, but there is an exquisitely awesome reason to NOT post a blog, but it'll come soon enough. In the meantime while I wait to post that, I'll talk about a random thought that I had earlier, which was really just a few seconds ago, but "earlier" sounds cool and thoughtful and artsy-fartsy.
I suck at piano, let's get that out of the way. At the same time, I enjoy playing piano much in the same way that people who don't make a living out of singing love to sing. I'm sure my playing makes every piano prodigy cringe and go, "Is this guy a nutcase? That sounds HORRIBLE!". . . anywho. The feeling of the piano keys doesn't wow my mind.
I love art and good movies and awesome music, but they don't wow my ears or my senses in any measure that just makes me sit there and go, "Wow, that's really amazing/spellbinding/smashing/electric/jolly-good/yahoo-able/memorable." After two or three days it wears out, and that's just it. There's nothing left but the memory that I was happy at some point and time, and the awe will never be the same; it grows stale. Just about everything you name will be the same way save one: Love.
I probably need to just type love a thousand times a day to avoid overusing it in on this blog, but in all seriousness: Love and God are the two most powerful things I've encountered, in no particular order, because God IS Love. . .
. . . and love is real.
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