That one time I fell on my head

This is the official first post on my first personal blog.

I have accomplished something! Everyone be proud of me for a moment.

Thanks J

So, I’m guessing that you came here because I asked/begged/bribed you to or because you heard about it from someone else (ie Kate… in fact, probably just Kate).

I don’t care why you’re here, and I seriously doubt that you care. What matters now is the present. So come along with me as I try desperately to entertain you.

Let me start by explaining why this blog exists. It’s not just because I have thoughts that need sharing, I’m not delusional to the point of thinking that anything I write here is somehow going to change the world, but I would also hope that you’re not so delusional as to think something you read on a random blog will change your world. It may very well, but just don’t expect those things of me. If you want that kind of stuff read a newspaper, God knows that business needs help and those people actually have degrees in this sort of thing.

So to actually explain why this exists, it’s really quite simply:

I’ve always loved writing, and I don’t want to die like Emily Dickinson.

I don’t want to have someone find my computer when I’m dead and open up a folder titled “Creative” and see that I had been writing pages and pages of poems and rants and script ideas that no one ever read. I think I would be much happier knowing that at least one person read all of those while I was alive. So thank you for that.

It seems like everyone I know realizes all too well that we are living in a recession here in America. I was talking with a friend of mine about the implications that would have on people my age who entered the work force only to find that the jobs they dreamed of simply didn’t exist anymore. I wondered how I would pastor people like that, someone who got out of college with a degree in some sort of Art and a heart full of passion only to take a job at some random office where they could make barely enough money to support their family. How was I supposed to tell people about how great God was, and how he inspires all inspiration when over the years those people’s inspiration would have withered away?  I couldn’t.

Maybe that makes me a bad pastor, but I found myself hoping that if I were in that situation that I wouldn’t let my heart’s passions wither away but rather I would continue to claw at that big gnawing feeling in my chest that told me to do something bigger with my life.

I can’t let down my elementary school self.

It's like the real TMNT with all the awesome turned into glitter.

I used to watch the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Coming out of their Shells Tour on VHS and dance around singing. One time I danced and sang so loud that I fell over on my parent’s brick fireplace and broke my head open. If I could travel back in time and talk to myself right after that moment I wouldn’t know what to say, but I know that I couldn’t tell that kid “Yeah, those dreams won’t come true. You can’t be up on stage; you don’t matter that much and those jobs won’t really be available when you’re all grown up.” I’ve got to make that fall count. Not just that one but all the ones I had since. All the bad grades and lies I told my parents, all the crappy heartbreaks and crappier poems, all of those jobs at places I hated (I’m looking at you Krispy Kreme).

So, yeah.

I’m writing this blog cause one time when I was a kid I fell on a fireplace. I think that’s good enough, and hopefully you do too.