A Curious Girl: The future teaches us to be alone

I don't know why I am still in school. I hate school work, I have always hated school work, and I probably always will hate school work. The only things I have ever vaguely enjoyed have been stuff which asked me to think creatively about something of relevance (sp?) and didn't ask me to copy up pages of notes. I like drawing, writing interesting things and learning interesting facts, but let's face it, I don't like the mindless tedium of learning and relearning it. I don't like copying from the board. I don't much like research. So why the hell am I still in school?

As you can see, I'm feeling a little anti-work today. I don't know what's up with me - maybe I should just pray about it.

I read "For this cross, I'll kill you" by Bruce E. Olson and it was excellent. Bruce is a missionary, living with the Motilone Indians in Colombia. All the stuff is just really inspiring - he taught them the truth without ruining their culture by making them sing hymns, go to church, wear 'Western' clothing (like us, in other words) or use jargon.

In some ways things seem to take on a new meaning when he describes how he translated them. For instance, there was a Motilone legend about a man who turned into an ant, and taught them many things, then turned back into a man, and then the ants didn't mind him and were unafraid of him. Bruce used this story to illustrate God becoming a man; it was pretty inspiring.

So go read it!!!!!!!!

Nothing much interesting seems to have happened. Lee T. (shares Biology with me) decided to go around hugging people after Biology, which was funny, and anything else? No, not anything it seems. Still musing about everything. The future, the past. The present.

When is the present?

No-one worries about the present. They call it fear instead.

Where am I going?

I get afraid. But why should I be? I've nothing to fear.

Hey, read this song. I wrote it on the same camp in which Hazel prayed for me.

Standing on the Platform

Ticket in my sweaty hand
I kick a stone, glancing at the clock
My train’s due any minute now.
Commuters tap impatient feet
Briefcase packed for life
My train’s due any minute now.

I’d like to think I’m getting on
I’d like to think I’ll be joining on the ride
But when the train draws in
When it hisses to a stop
I’ll be standing here
Still be standing here.

(chorus)

My life is lived just standing on the platform
I’m all prepared, but, hey, I’ll never get on
I’m too afraid.
And when I see those open doors, eager people getting on
I tell myself that I should stay.

The doors are all open
But the gap between is infinite
I’ll never get there.
Someone stops and holds a door
Inquires if I’m going - I say no.
I’ll never get there.

I’d like to think I’m getting on
I’d like to think I’ll be joining on the ride
But when the train draws in
When it hisses to a stop
I’ll be standing here
Still be standing here.

Chorus

Well now the train has gone
I kick another stone, glancing at the clock
I’m just waiting, getting nowhere.
Sitting down, thinking it over
I’ll just pretend I like it here
I’m just waiting, getting nowhere.

I’d like to think that I’d have gone
But the truth show much more shame to me.
Because when the train pulls out
I’d have missed my chance
I’ll be going nowhere
Still be going nowhere.

Chorus

So if you get the chance
Of making a new start,
Take the chance
And catch the train.

>OK, so a bit of an extended metaphor, but do you get the point? What's the use of standing on the platform when your train has arrived?

I want my ticket out of here.

But I don't want to go.

Note-the time of this entry may be wrong. Halfway through I realised my watch had stopped.

Random word for today:

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