I’m home sick today, victim to a possibly unholy matrimony of the cold and allergies (the latter is something of a presumptive self-diagnosis). So the extra time in bed allows me the luxury of blogging. Yay.
A friend (waddup @esmham!) took the above candid photo this past weekend and I Instagrammingly loved it. The picture is of a few old friends and I, intensely staring at our smartphones. Why? No we weren’t Snapchatting or Instagramming or Facebooking or Tweeting or even texting.
We were reading each other’s old, deserted blogs – the Blogspots and Xangas of yesteryear, when life was earned one eProp at a time. For the uninitiated, Blogspot and Xanga were some of the earlier blogging services to catch on, at least in my social circle as a youth – and I imagine, for you many of you as well.
I’ve been putting this post off for a while. I’m not really sure why, but perhaps it’s cause I don’t want to come across as if I’m bragging. I’m really not. Rather, I just want to share one particular aspect of my life that has been slowly changing over the course of the past two years. Long story short, I once maxed out at a weight of 238 lbs. I’m now in the sub-160 area, with my lowest thus far being 158. That’s a loss of roughly a third of my old weight, hence the title of the post.
“Farewell” is a term I am typically uncomfortable uttering. To me, the connotation of the phrase has a heavy degree of finality. It’s said only when there is nothing else to say, except that you hope the other person fares well because you won’t be able to witness it happen.
Last night I received word that a young friend had passed away – succumbing to injuries from an auto accident. Earl was someone I knew since he was a kid, he was in the youth group of the church that I used to serve at. But his life on Earth ended at the age of 19 yesterday… he didn’t even get to grow out of his teen years.
As I write this, all I can say is my heart is very, very heavy. I’m not really writing this post to convince anyone of anything, or to try and make a point. I guess I’m just writing this because I needed to get my thoughts down and express it somehow.
What happened today in Connecticut was despicable. It was fucking heinous. When I first heard/read the news, I couldn’t even process what had just happened. It doesn’t even seem possible. But the sad matter of fact is, this isn’t exactly an isolated event. People are killing people every damn day. It’s truly sickening.
I’m not here to talk about gun control. I’m not here to talk about media bias based on demographics and social status, nor do I want to get into the question of “why would God let such a thing happen?”. I’m not here to talk about any of the causes, but rather I simply want to discuss just the effect.
This past weekend I embarked on a multi-hour road trip with some friends. Of course this type of setting is extremely conducive to good conversation, especially among those you know and trust. Two of my fellow travel mates are husband and wife, whom already have one toddler son as well as another child on the way. At some point during the excursion home, I asked verbatim: “So when did you experience that moment where you looked at your son and thought – ‘Holy crap, I love this kid!’”? …Eloquently worded, I know.