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Driven without sound

November 28, 2016

“Sometimes, quiet is violent.”

-Car Radio, twenty one pilots


“I miss my words.”


This is my 1200th post. What in tarnation does anyone write 1200 posts about? And after that many posts, why am I still using a preposition to end a sentence with?

I’m about a month away from hitting the eight year mark from the inception of this blog. I wonder how many words I’ve used here on these pages? Maybe there was a limit. Maybe I used them all up, and that is why I’m now sitting in silence, missing my words.

It’s a nice idea, this business of using up my word quota. It’s all neat and tidy. It’s total pish posh, too. But we like neat and tidy answers even when they’re pish posh.

  1. Problem
  2. Answer
  3. Let’s shake hands and go for ice cream now

See how easy that is?

Pish posh, wish wash, polly wolly mish mosh.

Sometimes quiet really is violent. It leaves space for thoughts to roll around in my mind and get wedged into uncomfortable places. It echoes so loud it hurts my ears from the inside, and that is why I make that face, in case you were wondering.

I used to be driven to write. I still am, to be honest. The difference is that I used to have words to actually set to paper or screen.

  1. Drive to write
  2. Words to write
  3. Write

There.  See how neat and tidy that is? It works beautifully. When it works.

But when it doesn’t work…

  1. Drive to write
  2. Sit in front of screen for hours, unable to think of any words or any reason to use words
  3.  …

Not so neat and tidy. It makes my chest ache, and it’s really hard to laugh when your chest aches.

And I really like to laugh.

I’ve tried harder. I’ve prayed harder. I’ve lectured myself harder. I’ve even given up harder, because sometimes you gotta just stop the madness and back off.

This is just one little blog in a giant sea of blogs. You never know what you’ll find here. There’s a lot about Jesus, and a fair amount just about life and Jake the Jerk-Faced Dog and squirrel crimes and other general nonsense that gets cooked up in my noggin. But somewhere along the way I got this wild idea that my voice is important, and that I was given this ability to express my quirky thoughts for a reason.

There’s a sense of responsibility that comes with that. A responsibility for, and a responsibility to. I can’t help but take it seriously, even when I’m being a dork.

And somehow, I think the Sparky Nation, if any of you are left out there, knows that.

“There are things we can do
But from the things that work there are only two
And from the two that we choose to do
Peace will win
And fear will lose
There’s faith and there’s sleep
We need to pick one please because
Faith is to be awake
And to be awake is for us to think
And for us to think is to be alive
And I will try with every rhyme
To come across like I am dying
To let you know you need to try to think”

-Car Radio, twenty one pilots


2 Comments leave one →
  1. November 28, 2016 9:56 pm

    Is it possible the inspiration of words goes into a different venue?

    • November 28, 2016 10:31 pm

      Anything is possible, but I’m not seeing that. And really, I don’t believe in the mindset that I only get one venue. After all, God is infinite and His gifts and callings are irrevocable. He’s got lots for everyone, if we don’t limit ourselves with a scarcity mindset that says that we only get one thing, and if we get one thing, we have to give up something else. He’s a MORE kind of God!

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