Today in Class

But what does it all mean? Asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer. “It means” said Aslan, “that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before time dawned, she would have read there was a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards....”

- The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis

Good Night

I clicked "New Post" at 12:45. Let's see what I can do in 15 minutes.

I'm writing a research paper on the church vs. parachurch and how they both fit, or not fit, together in light of church as a family. What defines the two? Who is responsible for discipline and accountability? Who has the final say? Who has the authority? How do you tithe/give? Missionaries? Legal issues? Loyalty? Time? Fellowship? And the list goes on.

My life is based on a parachurch, namely, CEF. I know people who have strong opinions for and against parachurches. I already have my convictions and the paper will reflect that. By the way, my professor mentioned that apostle Paul and his group was like a church planting parachurch. das wassup. That is what is up.

I love it when it rains.

One more minute left.

I feel like I'm playing taboo.

I want to play chutes and ladders. That was the best board game ever created. Going up. Going down. Like a roller coaster. I like roller coasters because they are so scary. As I go up clunk* clunk* clunk* I go "be scared" "don't be scared" back and forth and the tension is super exciting. gahhh! intense! fire! It also helps to have a good imagination. That's why I love viking (the boat ride that swings back and forth). In fact, I can get the same effect when I'm on a normal swing. You just have to look down while you're falling and then think that you are falling! Mind over matter. Mind over mad hatter. Hats are kinda weird. Especially the sorting wizard hat. I wonder which house the magical sorting hat would put me in. Everyone wants Gryffindor, but I want them all. Slytherclawdorpuff. Or maybe I can rally some people and create my own house and it will be called Narnian. Okay actually that's a boring name for a house. You can't even cheer for that. "Nar-ni-an!" no. Speaking of cheer. Many people need to be cheered. This calls for a cheerio party. The yogurt ones. No milk please. I wish I was lactose tolerant. Tolerance reminds me of Torrance. Tornado. Torpedo. Torso. Torminator. Don't worry, I eat vitamins. Flintstones. I like turtles and Darkwing Duck. In China I ate duck tongue. I felt like I was kissing a duck. It didn't taste very good. Tongue of a duck. That sounds like a bad word. hahahah. You tongue of a duck! das right! That is right! Sometimes you gotta talk gansgta to sound normal. For example, you would not want to say, "Yes, I'm just chilling." No. That sounds like some high class British person living in London who is probably a writer of mystery novels who just got into his king size bed on a cold foggy night. If not, then it must be an ice cube having a conversation with his other ice cube friend in the freezer. See you gotta say it like, "ye, i'm just chillin'." Note the apostrophe that replaces the "g". That's how you be a G dawg. cat. bear. gorilla. donkey kong.

Now it's 1:35! oops I went a little overboard.

Good night world.

"How Bree Became a Wiser Horse"

what up, neighhhhhbor?

Here's a little venture into the ink well. I would name this daring company... Ace, if I had the intellectual property to mine own (although it may be grammatically incorrect, it does sound more boozgjwahzi than "my own") but sadly I do not. It will, without my bidding, be rightfully called The Horse and His Boy. Ahem. I shall continue with my superior tone and my eyes half shut with no regard to the winds or loose eyelashes.

There is a peculiar aesthetic to be had, noticed and observed in the telling of metaphors, in particular, metaphors within stories (oh how I was tempted to be redundant and write 'within metaphors' again and again about 3 times, but I am currently in the process of refining myself and these long winded parenthesis are a former shadow of me self arr). They must be strictly observed, but never highlighted because to highlight means to set in stone, or paper, its meaning and interpretation solely for the highlighter and no one else. It is to select just one wavelength in an infinite array of white light. There is nothing wrong in that just as there is nothing wrong in eating only the red skittles in a bag and ignoring the rest. I say "balderdash" (because it is a fun word to say).

Only the one who shines the light knows exactly where, and thus the reason for, the light to shine where it shines. When an observer sees where it shines it is important to see the whole of the shining, rather than the limited portion in which he (assume "/she". I'm not sexy racist) wants to see. This is unlike a buffet, where one can choose to eat whatever he likes for the pleasure of his appetite. If he does not pick up the Honk-Kong-style-fried-noodle soup, the "preparer of the food" (I will refrain from using the word 'chef' for I may offend the 'food is art' crowd save John Mayer and little children in high chairs) will not be offended or thought to be misunderstood as to why the "eater of the food" didn't try the whole palette of prepared food. This is more like a painting. And you can fill in the parallel blanks I am mentally (not) making in my head. And if you are a child of the King of Kings...

Alright, alright. I've had horrible ratings for my transitions (the latest being 6/10).

[Meanwhile], the metaphor hidden in a story is quite unique. The one who pens the story wields the power of revelation. It is not a mere show and tell, but a touch and feel; not a shallow dip in the water, but a total immersion; not a picture of a stranger, but a reflection of one's self. The former(s) is for prideful, assuming eyes that will simply narrow in on personal gain (what's in it for me? what can I learn from this parable?) and either be content, or frustrated with seeing very little. The latter(s) is for humble, lowly eyes that will not only open wide to discover the masterpiece at the light's end, but also gaze upon the beauty of the Artist. What becomes naturally highlighted, or we might say spotlighted, then, is our humble star gazer who now stands in the light in order to see the Light. Now this becomes a proper paradox for it is now personal, yet not for the person on his own account or his aiming of the spotlight on himself, but in light, and in the light, of a greater Person who originates and receives the splendor of it all.

(KABOOM! that's the sound of all my brain cells self-destructing simultaneously)

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning... The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

John 1:1,14

The real peculiar thing is not all metaphors within stories are fiction.

[Finally], if you're wondering what's with all this bloody English talking, parenthetical nonsense?

Three words (interrupted by a single question word):

Chronic-WHAT-cles of Narnia!