ever asking... questioning... ever...

Tonight I feel like Christmas. Christmas, as we all know, is red and green... which is me right now: green pants, red shirt. Hence, I am Christmas.

Okay, that's a bit off... but so is the spell-checker when it tells me "okay" is spelled incorrectly. I don't get it.

I've been admitted into the fiction writing class that I wrote that story over break for... in case someone wondered. It starts tomorrow--I'm curious. In other news, this apartment is starting to be home again. I'm starting to get more visitors around here, starting to sing more. How I've missed feeling the freedom to sing! Maybe that would make more sense to you if you grew up in the family I did. Gosh, I like those people.

Well. Now for some (many) words by Rainer Maria Rilke, as translated by Stephen Mitchell from "Letters to a Young Poet"... they are some for consideration, I think:

And if it frightens and torments you to think of childhood and of the simplicity and silence that accompanies it, because you can no longer believe in God, who appears in it everywhere, then ask yourself, dear Mr. Kappus, whether you have really lost God. Isn't it much truer to say that you have never yet possessed him? For when could that have been? Do you think that a child can hold him, him whom grown men bear only with great effort and whose weight crushes the old? Do you suppose that someone who really has him could lose him like a little stone? Or don't you think that someone who once had him could only be lost by him?--But if you realize that he did not exist in your childhood, and did not exist previously, if you suspect that Christ was deluded by his yearning and Muhammad decieved by his pride--and if you are terrified to feel that even now he does not exist, even at this moment when we are talking about him--what justifies you then, if he never existed, in missing him like someone who has passed away and in searching for him as though he were lost?

what, then?