frustration on the 10 East

I am so frustrated it is ridiculous. It took me and an hour and 10 minutes to drive to work, when it usually takes 20 minutes. Road rage is understandable in this city. If I only had a flaming dart thrower. Just joking. Kind of. NPR wasn’t that interesting this morning: they just kept telling me about the Nobel Prize winners of physics and my hard drive and magneto resistance. I wanted a story or news from Burma. Ahh Woe is me.

I also forgot my lunch. Thought about fasting but decided that today was not a day to start being holy as I have been wholly out of practice and I'm sick and I screamed the last of my voice away on the freeway. But then I feel lame, like I don’t trust God to take care of me on this frustrating day if I eat no food. I have much to pray for. I am fully aware of my unrighteousness. I feel it in my pores and I want to take a shower, but I took one last night. My mind thinks of things I could have done differently starting when I was four years old. It is an exhausting list that my fingers don’t want to tell you about.

We sang a song at church and it said, the Lord’s name is a strong tower, the righteous run into it and they are saved. I remember really liking this song when I was learning/realizing the power of the name of the Lord. But right now I am hung on the righteous word. I am not righteous, but my desire to be saved and run towards that strong tower is there and I wonder if it is enough. Everything on my insides tells me it is. I remember Jesus saying that he came for this sick not the well. I remember the lady with the alabaster jar crying and carrying on at the dinner party and Jesus saw her and loved her and honored her. She was not righteous in the conventional sense.

I had a dream last night about my grandma feeling unloved by me. We were sitting on the couch and she made it seem like I had been ignoring her. She got up and left and I stayed with my head on the couch cushions. Someone was crying. I remember thinking of m and how I should talk about him because it would be something we can relate to eachother on.

There are not very many things in my hands. Other people’s hearts and lives are not in my hands. The LAUSD is not in my hands. Life and Death are not dirt under my fingernails. The wrinkles on my palms are not the future, they are not even the past. I do have pens in my hand with which I can write. I do have touch in my hand with which I can reach out and feel. I do have my own blood vessels buried in my skin, bones, sinews, tendons all holding themselves together but those I did not create, I can not regenerate them, they are some what mine, kind of like an extended loan from the library. or as ani would say, "got em on loan for the time imbetween my mom and some maggots."

And in conclusion, written 12 hours after I started this not so quickwrite. I am less frustrated. I am breathing. I am happy with how I spent my time today. I am thankful for my family, friends, food and sleep and scrabulous. Goodnight.

p.s. my garage is gonna be on "Heroes" so I get $200. Hoot. Thank you Hollywood, its about time I got some of my money back!