Ready, set. . .

Go.

So, I know I blog sporadically, but my non-new years resolution is to blog at least twice a day. . . or maybe once a week, because it takes deep emotions for me to get motivated to write, and deep emotion is usually blocked, if I can help it.

But, for now, I'll post some of my older blogs, both from Facebook and Myspace, that I like and that other people like.

Here's a mini one for what I'm feeling now (it may end up being longer, I dont know):
I sat outside in the dark today, trying to see the steaks I was grilling in the gas-lit flame, and wondering if I was really a vegeterian. I mean, I didn't really feel like eating that meat, and I was just grilling it for my parents, but. . I could eat it.
I was thinking about other things, too, like how I fall in love too easily.
Oh, not always with boys or anything, but mostly with ideas, and hope, and music, and the wind. I want to follow those things forever, no matter what, and then I wait for a while, and I become appathetic again.
And I wonder if love is all it's cracked up to be.
I hear it is.
But no one has ever shown it to me. . and I'm not whining. . . I'm not really pleading, just sort of, without really saying it.
I'm not even sure the love I give is 100%, or if it can be. I want it to be. I want to love without reservation or pre-concieved ideas or notions. . .
But is that possible?
Maybe in an environment other than mine.
But is that an excuse?

I want to fall in love with Jesus.
Not Jesus with the blue and white robe.
But Jesus who spit into the dirt to make mud and then rubbed it on the blind guy's eyes to give him back something considered irrepariable.
Or the Jesus that didn't mind loosing some of His power through the hem of His garment. He healed her.
Can He heal me?

The Jesus with dirty feet and dirty hands who hangs out with prostitutes and homeless and the "scum" of the earth who know the meaning of real love.

Maybe if I hang out there too, I can find out what that meaning is.