Tuesday, August 30, 2011

A Room Called Remember





The time is ripe for looking back over the day, the week, the year, and trying to figure out where we have come from and where we are going to, for sifting through the things we have done and the things we have left undone for a clue to who we are and who, for better or worse, we are becoming. But again and again we avoid the long thoughts...we cling to the present out of wariness of the past. And why not, after all? We get confused. We need such escape as we can find. But there is a deeper need yet, I think, and that is the need- not all the time surely, but from time to time- to enter that still room within us all where the past lives on as part of the present,
where the dead are alive again, where we are most alive ourselves to turnings and to where our journeys have brought us. The name of the room is Remember. The room where, with patience, with charity, with quietness of heart, we remember consciously to remember the lives we have
lived. -Frederick Buechner

Monday, August 29, 2011


"I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently."
-Donald Miller



Why I Dread the Job Hunt


"Tell me what dishonesty means to you."

...This was the first question I heard in a job interview last week, and I couldn't help but laugh as soon as I heard it. It exemplifies what I dread about finding a new job. Despite my clean resume, my solid references, and the fact that I showed up fifteen minutes early, the person on the other side of the table is glaring at me like I am someone who will show up to work 2 hours late and promptly steal half the merchandise.

"I will work you for your paycheck."

...I realize it's a bad economy, but shouldn't supervisors at least attempt to put a positive spin on their management skills? I have never been so turned off to a job in my life.


Friday, August 19, 2011

Last Picnic



























Before the fall rains come,
Let’s have one more picnic,
Now that the leaves are turning color
And the grass is still green in places.

Bread, cheese and some black grapes
Ought to be enough,
And a bottle of red wine to toast the crows
Puzzled to find us sitting here.

If it gets cold—and it will—I’ll hold you close.
Night will come early.
We’ll watch the sky, hoping for a full moon
To light our way home.

And if there isn’t one, we’ll put all our trust
In your book of matches
And my sense of direction
As we grope our way in the dark.

-Charles Simic


You can find poetry anywhere these days.





















-Tim Martin