Andrew You're Busy

It feels later than it is, but it's been a long day. Wednesdays drain me, especially today. Had to work till 2. Had a final project due at 6. I finished it at 5:59. I've got one more week of finals then a break from school. Hard to believe I only have 2 more quarters left. 2 years ago last month we were here in Orlando trying to decide whether or not this was the next step, and here we are with me almost done with school. And what next? I'm not sure yet. I get that question a lot. It doesn't bother me as much now as it did with my English degree. I've really been enjoying what I'm doing, and I feel like I have what it takes (at least most of the time) to make a living doing this.

But it all seems to swirl around me. I feel winded. I feel whirlwinded. My life is one of perpetual busyness, peppered by small and rarely quenching doses of rest. I've never been good at rest, and there's always something: Work Monday, Parking Monday, Class Tuesday, Homework Tuesday, Work Wednesday, Homework Wednesday, Class Thursday, Guys Night Thursday, Lost Thursday, Class Friday, Lifegroup Friday, Rest sometimes Saturday, LGLC Saturday, Church Sunday, Splash Sunday, LGLC Sunday, and again, and again. And with all the talking and fellowship I still feel like few here know me or my marriage. I feel disengaged from the Christian subculture that surrounds me and very much connected to my desire for authenticity and the opportunity for us to be around others in the same stage of life as we. My time with Virginia over the past few weeks has been so sweet with peace, and laughter, and surprisingly enough, rest. It's been 3 months and I still find myself cherishing the night at the Harkeys or Epcot with the Foltz's. The joy of finding a kindred spirit. Why is it so difficult to find? I'm still thinking about the email Jason sent me and the continuing procrastination of my response. I just needed to write it down for once in a long time.

what orlando soul? or Prime Meridian

It's not a humid night
for once in a long time
and I turn it over
"like a penny on my tongue"

there's a kite in my car
with a tail of bitterness
that grows longer with each
trafficked day

the ocean she is near
and breathes
dear salted kisses on
my broken spine

there's a folded map
in the glove compartment
with sharper creases
and no relief.



What I'm listening to: Death Cab for Cutie-Transalanticism