Tonight we had a larger group meeting of the 'home' community, to talk things over about worship, mission, and the beginning of the monastic chapter. Fun times. I've spent over eight hours today revising my essay, and I think I'm about to spend one more. It's been a good day; I like it when I have some clear direction in my work, and there's a concrete purpose involved.
Patrick and I just spent some time watchin' telly. Highlights included Frasier, South Park, and "Extreme Plastic Surgery." And lots of screaming. True to the title, the surgery was indeed extreme. Hence the screaming. Obviously.
We watched music videos on some of the 20-odd music channels. I remember when "Stacy's Mom" was popular back home; it was when I first arrived in Dallas in the late summer of 2003. I thought I was going to begin some positive (priestly) formation, and come to a safe place in terms of community. Oops. Nostalgia is a funny thing. I remember arriving at my apartment with Bonny and Steve, and calling my friends to tell them what a nice place it was. It even had a pool. I never used it much. I will still recovering from the accident, and had to be careful about how I treated my body. Oh, well.
You know, I still have divets in the sides of my skull. I only notice when I cut my hair short. They aren't visible, of course.
Hope and trust are funny things. I can get called cynical or foolishly idealistic by different people for saying the same thing. If I am what some people call idealistic, it's because I do hope and I do trust. Lots of people don't.
I like this way better. I have no idea why I decided to write this funky stream-of-consciousness post, but there it is.
Update, 02:45. I have finished correcting my draft.