Goede dag!

My arrival to Amsterdam was bumpy to say the least. After arriving to the airport was uneventful and I discovered a new friend named Ruben who was from the Netherlands but had arrived home from an internship in the UK. He graciously gave me his contact information and said I could call him whenever I needed help. After we said our goodbyes things quickly went downhill. After trying for 20 minutes to find a train ticket I finally boarded the train which I realized after the fact that I was on the wrong track. I was soon rescued by a kind Dutchman and his wife who went as far as to call a friend to find how I could get to Amsterdam Central Station. After switching trains and hopping on the metro I arrived at the station 20 minutes late. I was greeted by a less than happy Shelter worker who I profusely apologized to.

After a 20 minute trek with my massive trunk and 2 bags we arrived at the Shelter.
(more coming very soon)

It Seems Those With Sports Cars Have To Show Off Even In Death

Today I realized that I do not want my body to be buried in a casket or have a traditional funeral. The expense is too great and too much time and effort is taken into coordinating such affairs. Perhaps I'll go the route my father has proposed for his own body when he dies. Donate the husk to science so the lives of others may benefit from a vessel that is now unused.
My great aunt's funeral was today which answers the question of what prompted this train of thought. Aunt Lois lived to the age of 94. Towards the end of her life she was very tired and had lost most of her sight. Finally being able to rest seems to be a fitting reward.
Aunt Lois was buried in the Farmington cemetery next to the rest of the Brashier and Stuckel family members that had moved on. The odd thing about the funeral home and the cemetery was the fact that a school resides next each one. The old Farmington jr. high is across the street from the funeral home while the old middle school is only separated by a fence from the hundreds of men and women that call their plots home.

Funny how we played at recess so close to death every day of our lives.

Road bikes, wrestling, and couches.

Here I am sitting on the edge of the bathtub trying furiously to find the area that has the strongest signal to my neighbors flickering wi-fi connection. Most wireless signals reach about a hundred feet and this is stretching that threshold to its limits. I can finally say I am a proud owner of a road bike thanks to the generous help of Scott who sold it to me for twenty dollars. It needs a little work but it runs near perfect and for its age it looks immaculate. All I needed to do was put in a little time cleaning the rust off the chrome and it shined like new. While at Caleb's house the other night I had the privilege to witness a couch burning (see photo below).
No other words are needed to explain this one.
Oh also go buy "The Wrestler." One of the most real performances I've ever witnessed by any actor. Mickey Rourke makes you feel like his character, Randy "The Ram" Robinson really is a man that has spent his whole life trying to entertain and please the crowd and has allowed everything else in his life to fall apart around his ears. This movie made me think about relationships in my own life but that's for another time. I mean isn't that what any good film is supposed to make you do?

Where Our Roots Lead

Movement seems to be the theme of my life right now. In the past few weeks I've said goodbye to a good friend, went to Chicago twice, and moved back home to my parents house. My brother now resides in my old room and I know live in the library room and sleep on the floor (see top picture). I had forgotten how mixed my feelings were about this town. I despise this place in a way that only a person that has lived here can. But in the same token I have always felt a gravitational pull towards this place and felt an appreciation for the beauty that comes with the freedom of living in a small town. Though I miss living with the guys in Peoria I love the quiet that my parents house allows. I can think and be still. My thoughts feel more collected and coherent when I'm here. When I'm alone in this house is when I feel the Lord. I feel like in Peoria I had neglected Him. I feel at peace.

We

all stumble through existence sideways I think.

A Year Passes In A Glance, A Moment Lasts A Lifetime

I AM ANGRY. My patience seems to grow shorter in each passing day. My time here seems only a countdown till I leave for Amsterdam. I feel like while trying to find a firmer hold on my faith I'm sliding backwards in my attempts. I feel conviction pushing me to change yet I refuse to budge. I AM SELFISH. My attempts at furthering my education has only yielded mediocre grades and apathy. The things that society has deemed important are the furthest from my mind. I find myself looking down on people I see in public; comparing them to myself and finding self-satisfaction when they don't stack up to my standards. I AM DISGUSTED AT THE PERSON I AM BECOMING. I can't believe that it has been 2 months since my last post. It feels like a year at least. My perception of time has always been skewed. I've always measured time by the events that have transpired.
I am in need of prayer.

In this life the one eyed lead the blind

But the best sighted amongst us can only see as far as their own face

For they cry out this is the dawning of a new era, while the others scream this is truly the end of days

Neither ones words ring false for the ones glass and metal spires never touch the burning ash and hollow husks of the others reality and

the malls are built to echo till the bustling voices in its expanses become one sound of greed and compliance

their walkways act as shoots for the cattle that are distracted by the fluorescent signs that feature half dressed men and women that act as blinders for the slaughterhouses true intentions

We were not meant to be

tied by these fetters

strapped to a machine that

filters our own ambitions

and synthesizes it back to us

in a form it deems acceptable

I've learned never to feel contentment

and it's so hard to be trusting

When we were taught as children to pick up ledgers and spades

to cast stones the size of boulders

and sharpen our teeth to points

Our actions only accumulate to a mark the size of a pin and our earnings have been slave to a thousand before

“tis something, nothing”

Life is not a footrace, nor some mountain to be climbed

Life is an ocean and I come with only a glass