I looked into the eyes of a Nepali child tonight. He looked familiar, and I searched his face until the image faded on my computer screen. A Thai marketplace appeared and I felt the humidity of a cramped vendor, overflowing with people and things. Progressing to more people, runners in Nepal in a feild with monkeys then came aglow. Each image felt so close that I could almost close my eyes and be back. Each day I feel closer as I actually become further away. I'm not sure what to make of that.

Last night I mentioned to Jenny that I wrote something, and she asked me to put it up. It was written in my car between classes, listening to Ray LeMontagne as I tend to do. Here it is:

Today I thought about Biola. I considered all the different backgrounds of people. There are baptists, pentecostals, methodists, conservatives and liberals, pro-Bush, anti-war, peace loving, tax hating, gay loving [which I will add is meant in a positive way, though some in an unfortunate place may see it differently], freedom fearing, lonely, peaceful, Spirit-filled, searching, sheltered and shelterless; most of whom are between 18 and 25 years old. Then I looked at big creepy Jesus. Now, I don't believe that real Jesus was either physically large (in fact, the Bible describes Him as meek) or creepy (although undoubtedly different and radical), but this Jesus mural is both. Big creepy Jesus stands painted on a building in 40 foot glory, arms extending a very heavy looking, closed Bible, grasped between his hands. His hands and the Bible pages are both fleshy pink, and when I am not walking by in apathy, strangely used to this painting, I sometimes think of how they shouldn't be pink, but some sun bathed leather brown.


That is all. There isn't much time between classes. Speaking of which there isn't much time to sleep before my next.