the moon is a harsh mistress

there are certain things i've come to take for granted.

i'm going to wake up tomorrow morning.
there will be orange juice, soya milk (and for some reason recently, yop) in my fridge.

maybe it's a stretch to expect myself to take every breath as a blessing. maybe i don't know how to be anything but jaded about cliches like that, and don't (or can't) react to them practically.

alls i know is that there's no reason i should be here. no good reason at least. and yet i am.

there are some days where i go my whole waking hours without once thinking of God. about why i woke up, about why i drank that glass of oj, about why i'm going to work, or reading a book. there are entire chunks of time where i just exist.

often i wonder if that makes me a bad christian. after all, i'm not living for God. not passionately furthering His kingdom. not running the good race, or fighting the good fight. sometimes i wonder if the fact that at times i'm so content just drinking a cup of coffee that God is just shrugging his shoulders unsure of what to do with me -- kind of like rob babcock, overseeing a basketball team.

am i going to be one of those dudes that shows up in front of God and he says "who the hell are you?"

is only knowing what not to do good enough? should i know what i am suppose to be doing?

but i always end up with that sinking feeling where no matter how much i screw up, God still loves me. that's what the bible says. that's what the church says. God will love me no matter what.

i hate that about God. like, seriously. i mean, i get mad at God. i get frustrated, i get pissed. but come on. how mad can you really get at a guy who in the back of your mind you know 100% loves you all the time?

it's so frustrating.

you know that sickly feeling you get while watching the Ernest movies, or inspector gadget, where with baited breath and non-diagetic information you painfully watch the bumbling hero?

that's how i feel sometimes about my life. just one fortunate happenstance after another to such an extent that i cannot even fathom how lucky i am.

not to say that's a bad thing. not everything has gone my way. and there's lots to come that i'm probably going to regret (there's a healthy attitude eh?). but i know that on days where i wake up with a basket full of lemons, God's always there to help me make lemonade.

even if sometimes i want to kill him for it.

is that blasphemy? god i'm screwed.

christ, i cursed.

fudgscicles.