Oh, that's why!

Our house is being taken and sold in January, regardless of our living situation. We have one month to figure out how to not be homeless, and the likelihood of the entire family sticking together in one place is really, really small. My father decided, rightfully, that the church that wanted him would be like all the rest that had troubled him in the past. I told him that moving there would be, living a tortured life just because you know you were living in a house. He will probably still do it, even though he will be away for five days(an improvement over the three weeks now) and working all weekend on church stuff. I think it's impossible. I think it will kill him (we have a family history on my father's side of people dropping dead while working). But he will still do it, most likely, because it is a house.

One month.

I wish I was living on a campus, one specifically. That was nice, living somewhere that you were pretty sure you could stay. I got to live somewhere that I loved for eight or so months, surrounded by people I came to love, learning stuff that I loved.

That was really nice

But the chances of going back there are nonexistent. I guess things could be worse, I could be homeless now, and I don't actually believe I ever will be. It is just very odd to be this close to it.

That is why I am not entirely joyful these days

And to be honest, I actually feel a little bit better now that I know why.

Profanity in Life and Literature

"Only pastors are allowed to swear," my father told me after I asked him about curse words when I was seven, which was convenient considering that he was an associate minister at the time. It makes for a humorous anecdote now, but that became my very first conception of the morality of profanity. My views have understandably expanded since then; I now sort profanity into two categories: cursing in life, and cursing in literature.

I (usually) swear infrequently. Because I attempt to present myself (keyword: attempt)as a clean-mouthed individual to most people, I can use vulgarity for the purpose that I believe that it holds: shock and awe. Curses are funny things; Once normal words, at some point they were given incredibly negative connotations by the society that uses the language. Connotations are powerful and negative ones have their place, but connotations suffer from diminishing returns. If I decide that a situation calls for it (which is rare), I need only use a single word, and any of whom hold the view that I never swear tend to go silent and slack-jawed. Compare this to your common foul-mouthed lout or lass whose curses hold little to no meaning. I also try (though unfortunately not as much recently) to refrain from profanity when I am alone so that I don't develop a habit which can eventually ruin everything if I accidentally let a curse slip, which has happened multiple times, and therefore shattering my company's perception.

When it comes to writing, I believe one should swear less than what is normal for them. With much of the reasoning being the same, the difference being time. When one is writing and the urge to use vulgarity arises, they have time to turn that emotion into a brilliant piece of wordplay instead of using the shortcut that is swearing.

Now it's time for exceptions! In life, there are two exceptions that I can think of. First, there are some people around who I would never swear, such as children or grandparents (parents? yeah.. well we try, right?). Secondly, never- with no exception to this exception- is it ever alright to use God's name in vain. As for writing, there are also exceptions. Such as emotion filled personal writings, and in fiction. Both are rather self explanatory, I think. Finally, there are those strange, inexplicable, atypical, unconventional, rare-synonymic situations where a single use of profanity just sort of works.

Why I Should be In Good Spirits

 I really should be in a better mood recently because:

1. My mother lost her job on Tuesday, which sucks, but she isn't torn up about it and I think we will be fine financially. But since she will be staying home, I don't have to be the one playing housemaid anymore. Not to say that I would let her do everything, but it is still help.
2. My father will most likely be accepting a job as the head minister at a church an hour northwest of here. He is going to be a pastor again, which is incredibly amazing considering all that my family has been through.
3. This

So why the hell aren't I happy?
I need to cheer up, damn it!

Thinking about Monday

Sitting in a chair in the other room that I never sit in.
Listening to music.
Mother just finished practicing piano, thus ending the competition between her and my headphones.
Thinking about Monday.
Monday I'll start again at life.
Yeah, Monday.
Having some breathing trouble.
It's funny how I can nonchalantly say that to people.
As if breath isn't that big of a deal to me.

One Year.

I just noticed that this Monday marked the one year point for this blog...thing, or whatever it is.
It started as a place to, well, post arbitrarily about random thoughts that I had.
But it has sort of taken on a new role, hasn't it?
Why yes, myself, it seems as though it has. Thanks for noticing.

Anyway, at some point shit got real on this thing.
It went from a silly little place to post funny or interesting things (elf owl's are still frickin' cute),
to a place to post stuff that was serious business.

I think I want a good mixture of both now because:
A) It will give me something to do
B) It will create more content for nobody to read.

Also, more of this thing that I'm doing here; typing off of the top of my head.
I want more of this, and I'm sure you do to Mr./Ms./Mrs. Nobody.

Thanks for reading Nobody.
You're a real pal!

Biblia Sancta

There was dust
on my bible this morning.
The cover to His words
themselves covered
in the bits of dried skin and hair
of a Man–
Mortal
like the One
he sent.