The results from that pageview counter differ significantly from what Google is telling me, and I was hoping to get an "all-time" count instead of a daily count, so I'll be experimenting with a few other counters in the near future.

The client project manager for this job was acting a little unusual today. I can typically smile at that person and they will smile back almost as if it's an involuntary reflex to being smiled at, but today they didn't smile back. I hope everything is ok.

I feel like my head is gonna explode. I don't know how some people can keep up these hours 7 days a week. I have expressly required that they let me take Sundays off, and I spend the whole day catching up on emails, filing expenses, organizing program files, and doing laundry.

Btw, I'm listening to this song:

I caught myself a couple of times today daydreaming about how I could explain what I'm working on to my family, but in a way that would strike a balance between creativity and accuracy. Specifically, I wanted to use as much metaphor as possible without misleading the hearer, and minimize or eliminate direct references to the actual things I'm explaining. Explaining this is making me lose my motivation to do it.

I've also been considering adding more rhymes to my poetry, and maybe even learning to freestyle rap. I've been trying it a little, here and there when I'm alone, and I'm very slow at coming up with the next statements. I have to learn to become more intentional about the sound and timing of my words rather than focusing on the meaning, so the difference between rap and normal conversation is aesthetic... but aesthetics can themselves be meaningful, like tone of voice or body language. I like to think that I'm committed to verbal language for its ability to reproduce clear and concise meaning in the mind of the audience, but I am in danger of being faineant if I disregard or underestimate other forms of communication.

I want to think of a way to rhyme without being capricious, because I don't want to add any meaningless element to a poem. I want not just the words themselves to have meaning as words,  but I want the sounds of the words to invoke a frame of reference conducive to receiving those words. However, since nonverbal communication relies much more on subjectivity in interpretation, the goal of that kind of art would have to be, in part, to invoke subjective responses (otherwise my art would achieve something other than my goal). So then if I am going to attempt to invoke a subjective response, I have to ask myself: is it possible to target a certain type or aspect of subjectivity? Are there objectively targetable aspects of subjective experience? If subjective responses can't be classified reliably, then is it possible to be intentional about aesthetics at all?

I also want to avoid utilizing stereotypes or cliche's in order to communicate my meaning. I want to be sure that I am appealing to human nature as opposed to common experience, which is not necessarily a clear distinction since all aspects of human nature are also common experience.

Now, as I've said before, I believe that there are objective standards of beauty, truth, and morality.... but when I try to qualify those standards, I realize how tired I am right now. I'm going to sleep.

"You're like a tether that keeps me grounded"

14 hours of work today, and my coworker wants to go in at the normal time tomorrow morning. I get why, and so I'll aim for it, but I'm not too happy about the idea. It's 1AM now, but I wanted to wind down a bit before I go to sleep.

In my last blog I mentioned having a hypnagogic episode. I don't know if I've mentioned this in my blog before, but I might as well explain myself now.

I've had an issue with that ever since I was little. The word "hypnagogic" classifies my hallucinations as those happening during early stages of sleep, but the doctor who did my sleep study (for which I didn't fall asleep and we failed to replicate the event) told me that what I was experiencing was caused by falling too quickly into REM sleep (skipping all the early stages of sleep), and then waking up immediately, which would leave me in limbo for a few minutes, fully aware and seeing both the real and imagined worlds at the same time. These hallucinations are invariably coupled with intense fear, and most of the time don't make any sense at all (often replacing things in the real world with geometric shapes, like my parents would be cylinders and my siblings would be cones or something like that).

When I was very young, I would hallucinate sometimes as often as once or twice a week (although once per month or less often was typical, as far as I remember). In elementary school I was examined, and the doctor told me that I needed to practice stress management, because my body wasn't releasing stress on its own in a healthy way. Ever since then I've made a lifestyle out of trying to manage stress. I was pretty young at that time, and I didn't really know what it meant to manage stress, so I took to introspection in order to learn what stress was, and eventually invented some of my own ways to meditate, some of which I still practice from time to time. Really, though, I didn't meet much success until 8th and 9th grade.

Around that time I encountered that person I mentioned in my previous blog (and I intend that this is the last consecutive blog wherein they will be mentioned). That person introduced me to blogging, and we used to be among the very few (possibly the only) readers of one another's blogs on Xanga. As it happens, keeping a journal or blog is one of the most well documented (lol) and well attested means of managing stress. Blogging was the first major step I took towards actual productive methods of stress management, and the exchange we shared was really a major turning point for me, and I started to make really quick progress in high school.

By 10th grade I brought myself down to almost one episode per 6 months, and I don't remember having any episodes at all during 12th grade. I hallucinated once during my freshman year of college, and then I don't think it happened again until I got married. Marriage is hard, and it's happened a couple of times since we married. But God is the laborer of my love, and He makes my feet firm so that I will not be shaken. I fully intend that my wife will be aware that I love her all the time. I do not want to be a man who doesn't call his wife enough, or a man who doesn't tell or show her that he loves her. Even when we're stressed, or arguing, or long distance, I want her to know that I love her.

"You know they're crazy when they stroke their chin like this."

Finding that photo yesterday hit me like a lightning bolt. I've encountered stuff that reminded me of that person in the past, but it never hit me as hard as it did yesterday. I had some crazy nightmares last night, and I was nervous to the point of feeling sick for most of the day today. I don't know why it hit me so hard, and I hope I don't experience that again. Everything I wrote in the blog was true, though...

I feel much better this evening. I had a long and difficult day at work, and some spicy food with beer for dinner. I'm feeling ok. And, being relieved of my sort-of misplaced and weird heartache, my heart is concerning itself this evening with desire for the touch of my wife's lips. I miss her a lot, and to miss her feels much more healthy and wholesome than to miss any other person.

That said, I think that my emotional responses to things have been gradually becoming more intense as I continue spending time here. In fact, the other night I had an intense conversation with Chowon over the phone and had a hypnagogic episode in the middle of the conversation, which is something that hasn't happened since back when me and Chowon were first learning how to argue. I was pretty tired and I guess I fell asleep while we were on the phone, but due to the nature of the thing I immediately woke up and hallucinated some scary stuff for a few minutes. Triggers for that are stress and lack of sleep; I'm getting a solid 5 to 8 hours per night here, so I tell that story as an illustration of the stress I'm feeling.

There is a certain level of stress inherent to the work I'm doing, but I don't think that the work is the primary cause. It's not because of my boss either -- he's a good boss. It's not because of the atmosphere at the job either; everyone says they're working at a breakneck pace to get things done quickly, but it seems to me that the more "hurried" they get, the more they become disorganized, and the more they have to redo work, and the more they miss deadlines. The way I see it, everyone is better off recognizing their natural limits and just doing their honest best to get the job done well and quickly. That is to say I'm not too stressed by the pace, because I'm not capable of working any faster than my best, and I always do my best, because my work is dedicated to my master, my God, who I love. All those things are fine. I think the main reason I'm stressed is just because of the hours. I'm an introvert, and I recharge by being alone. I really don't know how to handle this kind of constant interaction with large groups of people who want things from me. And being alone isn't enough, but when I'm at home I'll sometimes spend as much as 30 minutes just preparing to chill out and release stress -- doing things like brewing tea, cleaning the living room, getting a book to read or write in (and/or some colored pencils for doodling), opening the window to let in some fresh air, maybe playing some music, etc, to make the environment great, getting blankets to snuggle with Chowon. I can't do that here just because I only have a few minutes between the time I get home and the time I go to bed, and typically all of those minutes are spent on the phone talking with Chowon about plans that stress us out even more (and then I postpone bed for a few more minutes to blog).

Anyway, I'm still very concerned about my old friend. I spent much of my spare time today praying for that person, that God would give them health and peace and salvation.... but maybe I'll forget again... and maybe we'll meet again someday... God only knows.

"Can you have that running in auto by tomorrow?"

I just started listening to Copeland again. Here's a song I'm listening to now:

Hearing that album makes me nostalgic.

Speaking of nostalgia, I looked through my old Photobucket today and saw a picture of someone I used to know, and it suddenly made me very upset. More upsetting than the picture itself was the name I gave it, and it's not the first time I've encountered a reminder like this which had the same effect. It was a picture of someone I used to know rather well; I stole that picture from the person's myspace because at the time I sort of encorporated the person as a part of my self-description. I imagine that if I were still in touch with the person, they would be one of my closest friends.

I was selfish and I took the person for granted. When that person did exactly what I should have expected them to do (if I wasn't a total idiot), I got hurt. Now, looking back, I'm not offended by that person's actions at all, but I'm more hurt that I didn't do what I should have done in order to protect the relationship we had.

The person may never know how much of an effect they had on me. I now regularly do the thing which that person told me I didn't do, so that I will never repeat the same mistake, and I recognize how important it is, but whenever I am reminded of that person I realize how they changed me for the better, and how much of my effort carries the bitter taste of that person's hurt voice telling me why... Three of the most vivid memories I have in my life are: the one time that person hugged me; the time (near when I moved away) that the person cried; and the way that whenever we walked away from the bridge where we used to meet and talk and play poohsticks, I would always look back, but they never looked back at me. The person just kept walking towards home. I remember once I stopped right after we parted and turned around and watched because I thought that maybe that person looked at different times from me so I always missed it, but they never looked back.

I don't have that person's phone number anymore, because I deleted it, and part of me regrets that, but I don't imagine that I would have helped things by keeping it. I regret not talking more directly to the person last time I met, but I wish it was one on one... To this day, sometimes when something reminds me of that person I get depressed, so that later when I'm alone I will cry because of how I wish things had been different; I would give all my worldly possessions to hear the person say that they forgive me. If the person ever reads this, one of my biggest hopes in the world, which I keep only inside myself (until now, I suppose), is that the person would remain true to God and love Jesus. I pray for them often, that God will protect their heart and keep them in the fold for salvation.

I almost want to never blog again, in hopes that if the person ever comes here they will see this post.

This post may seem like it does exactly the thing that I failed to do before, making me still a selfish jerk and a hypocrite, but I mean only what I said. I wish we were still friends.

...Chowon is lovely, and I'm happy to be married to her; I wouldn't change my life with her under any circumstances.

Other news, Photobucket recently decided that I have to pay monthly to continue embedding that water candle image at the bottom of my blog. I've switched to imgur for the pic. Also, I'm planning to go find the HTML corpse of Fido and replace it with a visitor map.

"You don't know who the red king is."

Really liking this song right now:

I miss coming home from work during daylight. Chowon has worked 4-8 for the past few months, picking me up from work afterwards, and now I'm at a client site where I'm working long days. The sun's warmth is a commodity I can't purchase with the payment that this job provides.

Today I was struck with a sort of epiphany. Nothing I write here will likely communicate the weight that it carried for me when I received it, and my readers will probably be like, "I knew that 10 years ago". This is basic Bible stuff... also, I don't think I can do better than explaining it in terms of general principles.

Adventure is both a gift from God and a desire of the flesh: to see a treasure and lust after it, to fall in love with a jewel without knowing its quality, or to imagine an alternate life which is impossible to achieve by any moral means, are things which tempt us to say, "God, why did you give me the ability to desire those things which I should not have? Isn't the ability to experience pleasure a great gift you've given me? Didn't you handcraft our desires to be for things which would enable us to glorify you just by doing those things which we, your image bearers, would want naturally? But it is clear that you want me to strangle my own heart; to deprive it of the nourishment in good feelings that you enabled me to desire and long after. Why did you pave the path to happiness with heartache?"

It is rather the case that God has established right means to satisfy each desire, but that those means are not easily intuitive, requiring us to exercise all of our faculties to both discover them and then acquire them, therefore best glorifying God by achieving satisfaction by necessary means of every single power of which we are capable. I earn my wine with the sweat on my back, which I only have because God protects my health; I protect my marriage with every Fruit of the Spirit, which I am not capable of in myself but can only exercise because the spirit grows a fruit-bearing vine within me. These days I feel like those two things are all I do at all. I sacrifice sleep here and there when I feel like I can, in order to squeak out things like this blog. The other day I made time and carved some pumpkins at like midnight, because holidays are a gift from God, and my thoughts on Halloween are a whole other topic (but in short, I think it's a Christian holiday which we took from pagans, and whenever we fail to acknowledge that part of its history we give it back to them).

All that to say that searching and knowing God is the method by which we can actually satisfy those longings and desires, but in the meantime we do have to shut down the easy path to immediate, empty, and temporary fulfillment by defeating our flesh. What is it that I want when I see that thing, except for the joy of the adventure and the discovery of unknown pleasures? God is infinite, infinitely mysterious, infinitely joyous, and infinitely beautiful, but he has made himself discoverable; how can I look to any other source of beauty for fulfillment? He is capable of satisfying the desire for struggle and discovery, but I have to focus all my faculties in order to even turn my heart towards that thus-far only-hoped-for, only-promised outcome.

As I write, I'm remembering atheists who I've spoken to. I imagine, because they have expressed as much, them reading this and saying, "how pathetic that he needs a god in order to justify resisting immoral means to pleasure". How foolish that the atheist would hesitate or blush because of purely imagined and non-imminent moral convictions; you deny your nature by denying your flesh, and you ignore the gifts that evolution has supposedly given you by denying your nature. How arrogant that the atheist would hope to achieve greater happiness later by denying his/herself now, when we have no control over the random-chance environment about which we understand so little, ignoring the constant threat of cosmic death looming in every corner of the nothingness about which we have subjected our inexplicable and perhaps entirely unaccompanied consciousness. To now think "but nobody can live that way" is to make my point exactly. To otherwise think, "but life is more beautiful that way" is a wishful and subjective assertion in the godless universe. I believe in truly objective standards of beauty, a consistent atheist cannot.

"He's by the librarian"

Here's that second poem I wrote about my wife. It has a similar style to the last one.

--------------------

My wife is a forest in autumn
Her leaves are drawn by the very hands of God

Her beauty is unmatched
All her features compliment one another

The sound of her voice stirs my emotions deeply
The birds harmonize with her

I will walk in this forest
I will learn every tree

She drops her leaves gracefully
And softens my path

When rain dampens her cheeks
It strikes mine also

Soon God will make the rain to snow
Turning our sorrow to new joy

My love for you is not changed
I love you in all your ways

--------------------

I've been thinking about a potential objection to "the text is king" idea for temporal law keeping: that the Bible is subject to interpretation in such a way that the law cannot be consistently enforced.

I'm blogging on my phone again, so I'll try to be brief. The Holy Scriptures are perspicuous. Words have limited meanings, and language offers a semantic domain. It's noteworthy that the moral and legal codes in scripture are broadly agreed upon across denominations. What people significantly disagree about is the means for salvation, the nature of God, or the best way to worship.

To clarify, I'm not suggesting that we become like the puritans, who, though they had other good qualities, were wrong in that they made laws in addition to the scriptural code, and I think a case can be easily made that their laws were harmful.

Spitefully ignoring the irony which eclipses this otherwise excellent poem, I want to share a passage from Paradise Lost, book 5. In this chapter, the devil has assembled all angels under his command and used the authority and prominence given to him by God to incite his audience to rebellion. One angel from among the crowd rebels against Satan in order to return to God. This is the angel Abdiel giving his monologue (the first part is the introduction to the monologue). Abdiel's name means "Servant of God".

----

The Deitie, and divine commands obeid,
Stood up, and in a flame of zeale severe
The current of his fury thus oppos'd.

O argument blasphemous, false and proud!
Words which no eare ever to hear in Heav'n
Expected, least of all from thee, ingrate
In place thy self so high above thy Peeres.
Canst thou with impious obloquie condemne
The just Decree of God, pronounc't and sworn,
That to his only Son by right endu'd
With Regal Scepter, every Soule in Heav'n
Shall bend the knee, and in that honour due
Confess him rightful King? unjust thou saist
Flatly unjust, to binde with Laws the free,
And equal over equals to let Reigne,
One over all with unsucceeded power.
Shalt thou give Law to God, shalt thou dispute
With him the points of libertie, who made
Thee what thou art, and formd the Pow'rs of Heav'n
Such as he pleasd, and circumscrib'd thir being?
Yet by experience taught we know how good,
And of our good, and of our dignitie
How provident he is, how farr from thought
To make us less, bent rather to exalt
Our happie state under one Head more neer
United. But to grant it thee unjust,
That equal over equals Monarch Reigne:
Thy self though great and glorious dost thou count,
Or all Angelic Nature joind in one,
Equal to him begotten Son, by whom
As by his Word the mighty Father made
All things, ev'n thee, and all the Spirits of Heav'n
By him created in thir bright degrees,
Crownd them with Glory, and to thir Glory nam'd
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Vertues, Powers,
Essential Powers, nor by his Reign obscur'd,
But more illustrious made, since he the Head
One of our number thus reduc't becomes,
His Laws our Laws, all honour to him done
Returns our own. Cease then this impious rage,
And tempt not these; but hast'n to appease
Th' incensed Father, and th' incensed Son,
While Pardon may be found in time besought.