The Idiot

I haven't been writing because my displacement finally caught up with me the past week or so. Being 21 is occasionally...how do I say this? 21 is the age of excitement and dreams but at the exact same time it is the age of growing awareness and cynicism. You begin to realize that your parents weren't always old and had their own dreams at one time also. I can see the life that would make me happy but is it even plausible? Don't big dreams mean bigger disappointment? I don't even know what I'm thinking anymore, but my own thoughts are beginning to paralyze me. I'm beginning to feel like a deer in headlights, thinking that maybe if I don't think if I don't dream no one can take them away from me. But then it becomes like looking in a mirror and not liking your own reflection. Monica and I were talking about it when I visited last week; there's a real joy in taking the risk of living as you want, going to a school with shaky foundations, or living in Europe. Yet it's a risk, leaving yourself open to whatever vocation God asks of you. Maybe there's the answer: be willing to take whatever step you need to do what you have to do. Maybe that's the ingredient so many people miss as they get more fixed in habit. The risk continues to renew their excitement in life...I need a regular job. I'm thinking too much.

One of my more unconventional jobs includes puppy-sitting for my brother's Maltese Killer. I've renamed the 3 pound puppy The Furry Fury. That's right, he's a beast.
The highlights of my week are as follows:
playing with dry ice with the guys at the rectory and exploding a water bottle
eating at a Jewish deli in Ann Arbor
perusing through Barnes and Noble with Sean
playing on a swing set with Sean and Thom who are eager to discover ways to hurt themselves
stargazing with Monica and Mel
reading on the grass with Monica
watching Cannibal: the Musical! with Shannon and Tom (which is a good as it sounds...very)