*tries to brush away cobwebs*
Hm, so it would seem that I have neglected to write.
*vacuums up cobwebs*
Ah, there you all are. Lovely to see you're still here. A lot has happened since my last post. Let me just give you a quick rundown:
1. I got married
2. I moved
3. I got a cat
4. I work as a barista
5. My fish, Henry (you guys remember Henry, right?) Well, he passed away, sadly, just a couple weeks ago. RIP, Henry.
6. ...
Okay, so maybe there wasn't as much as I thought. I wonder what that says about my life (it says I don't get out much).
So, this post is going to be short and sweet; however, I'm back. You should hear from me much more often..."should" being the operative word here.
This is Maximum Sunshine, signing off. Αντίο και ο Θεός ταχύτητας.
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Maintenance = Finished
Okay, so that didn't take as long as I thought it would. Aside from changing the font, I have added a new gadget to the site. You can now sign up to get an email every time I post something new! How exciting, right?
Okay, but seriously, I need a few of you to let me know if the gadget even works. I don't want to give anybody false hopes by not removing it if it turns out it doesn't work. We cool? Cool. Alright, I gotta jet.
Toodles!
-Max
Okay, but seriously, I need a few of you to let me know if the gadget even works. I don't want to give anybody false hopes by not removing it if it turns out it doesn't work. We cool? Cool. Alright, I gotta jet.
Toodles!
-Max
I Know I Should Be Doing Homework, But . . .
It's time for another site revamp. For the next hour or so, Max's Life and Beyond will be down for maintenance. I'm just going to be doing a little redecorating, so don't worry. Actually, I don't even know how to shut down the blog for maintenance, so if you're on at the time of maintenance, you'll probably be seeing some funky things going on. But just so you're aware . . .
Toodles!
-Max
Toodles!
-Max
Sometimes, I Think I'm A Goldfish
Three months of not having to use my brain much for anything except "How many tomatoes should I dice?" and "Ooh, I need to get more spray paint for my centerpieces," and "We're having eleventy-seven tiny humans at camp this week? Okay, so that'll be eighteen pans of pizza, four pans of cherry crisp, and eight 200 mg ibuprofen tablets ..." (alright, that last blurb is a mild exaggeration; we didn't have that many people all at once come to camp this year, but you get my point). I haven't had to think too terribly hard this past summer. My main focus has been work and wedding planning. There may or may not have been a week in there when I went to South Carolina and probably forgot how to speak to other humans entirely because I was too busy sitting on the beach, watching the seagulls watch me watch them. A very brain-stimulating activity, by the way. But now I'm getting off-topic.
I moved back on campus on Saturday, August 22. I have a room to myself, save for my betta fish, Henry, and my snail, Spader.
They're great roommates, because they don't talk when I need to study, but they're crappy roommates because they don't talk when I want to talk. Henry just goes blub, blub at me, Spader hides in his shell, and I sit there like an idiot, talking to them anyway, trying to alleviate my deplorable desire to be around other people. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I have a private room, but it also sucks because none of my friends really want to make the trek to where I am on campus (which is almost not, I'm so close to the edge of it). I don't blame them; there's an elevator in my dorm building, but it's getting to the dorm that's almost too much effort.
So, I sit here alone (in a manner of speaking), and I just can't seem to get my head on straight. I was a couple minutes late for my 10:00 am class yesterday, because I thought it started at 10:30, even though it lets out at 10:50. Luckily, I realized it before I had waited too long and went sprinting across campus to get there.
Worse, however, is the fact that I'm a writing major and I'm taking a Structures of English course that makes me embarrassed to call myself a writer. I don't remember jack squat about participle phrases, or what gerunds are. I write based on instinct, but I couldn't tell you why I write half the things I write, the way I write them.
I feel like a goldfish; I can't focus on one thing for more than three seconds. My brain is going everywhere, and I swear, I forget everything the moment I hear it. You should hear me try to speak intelligently to other humans. It's like listening to a dog try to recite the alphabet; nobody knows what's happening.
I haven't been sleeping well, either, which could account for the stupor I've been in since I moved. Without fail, every night (or rather, morning?) I wake up somewhere around 6:00 am, and then fall back into a fitful sleep until 8:00, when I just can't sleep anymore, even though my alarm is set for 9:00. It's turning me into a zombie. An irritable, goldfish zombie:
Ahem. Moving on. My whole point for this post was to just moan and groan and try and get my head on straight. So far, I'm still as spastic as when I started, so obviously that's all going well for me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go suck down a juice box and try and get some of this crap out of the way so I'm not so...everywhereallatonce!
I moved back on campus on Saturday, August 22. I have a room to myself, save for my betta fish, Henry, and my snail, Spader.
 |
| Spader is cleaning the foliage. Henry is posing, because he's a fancy fish. |
They're great roommates, because they don't talk when I need to study, but they're crappy roommates because they don't talk when I want to talk. Henry just goes blub, blub at me, Spader hides in his shell, and I sit there like an idiot, talking to them anyway, trying to alleviate my deplorable desire to be around other people. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I have a private room, but it also sucks because none of my friends really want to make the trek to where I am on campus (which is almost not, I'm so close to the edge of it). I don't blame them; there's an elevator in my dorm building, but it's getting to the dorm that's almost too much effort.
So, I sit here alone (in a manner of speaking), and I just can't seem to get my head on straight. I was a couple minutes late for my 10:00 am class yesterday, because I thought it started at 10:30, even though it lets out at 10:50. Luckily, I realized it before I had waited too long and went sprinting across campus to get there.
Worse, however, is the fact that I'm a writing major and I'm taking a Structures of English course that makes me embarrassed to call myself a writer. I don't remember jack squat about participle phrases, or what gerunds are. I write based on instinct, but I couldn't tell you why I write half the things I write, the way I write them.
I feel like a goldfish; I can't focus on one thing for more than three seconds. My brain is going everywhere, and I swear, I forget everything the moment I hear it. You should hear me try to speak intelligently to other humans. It's like listening to a dog try to recite the alphabet; nobody knows what's happening.
I haven't been sleeping well, either, which could account for the stupor I've been in since I moved. Without fail, every night (or rather, morning?) I wake up somewhere around 6:00 am, and then fall back into a fitful sleep until 8:00, when I just can't sleep anymore, even though my alarm is set for 9:00. It's turning me into a zombie. An irritable, goldfish zombie:
 |
| Braaaaaaiiiinnnnssss.... |
This is Maximum Sunshine, signing off. Αντίο και ο Θεός ταχύτητας.
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
One Heartbeat
So, this post is going to be a bit different from what I usually post. Serious business, this time; I'm going to tell you about a book called The Harbinger.
Now (assuming you read the subtitle on the cover), before you click the little X on your tab or your browser, whether it be because you don't like to read (which would make me sad), or you are like me and scoff at these conspiracy theory-type things, please just wait a moment.
My mother has been telling me I should read this book for months. However, the description on the back, plus her method of promotion (a whole lot of doom and gloom), wasn't exactly appealing:
Last week, I found the book atop my flame-patterned comforter that my sister had made in back in high school Home Ec. class. Symbolism? End-times, flames . . . anyone? Okay, bad joke. I set the book on my desk, and as embarrassing as it is to say, I avoided it. I did. And I'm going to tell you the honest-to-goodness truth why.
The truth is, I was afraid. I get that, as a Christian, I'm supposed to be all caught up on my end-times stuff, and ready to go. After all, eternity in Heaven = awesome, right? Except I am absolutely terrified at the thought of what comes after this. I shouldn't be, because, Heaven = awesome, remember? But I'm ashamed to admit that I'm not sure I want it to come yet. I'm selfish; I am going to be 22 years old in September, getting married in less than a year, and I want to enjoy it. And when I spell it out to myself, it doesn't make sense that I want to enjoy the life God gave me a little while longer more than I want to go spend this incredible eternity in Heaven with Him . . . does it? I'm chalking my confusion up to the fact that my puny human brain can't comprehend eternity, along with fear of such a vast unknown.
The point is, I was avoiding that book like the plague because I had it in my head that, "Oh, if I ignore the thought of the imminent end, it'll just go away, and I'll die of old age first!" And who knows, maybe I will die of old age first; I don't know how God runs His timer, whether it ticks in seconds or years, I don't know.
The book sat on my desk for a good few days before I opened it up somewhere in the middle and started reading (something I don't normally let myself do), just to get a feel for it. And oddly enough, although I didn't quite understand what I was reading, I was intrigued. But, just then, my dad called me down to come feed my horse, and the book remained untouched for a few more days.
And then, earlier this evening, I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed (something I do waaay too often) and I saw this title of an article: 7 Signs You Might Love Comfort More than Jesus.
I'm going to make another confession to you: when scrolling through my news feed, I'm more likely to click on an article about animals than an article about Jesus. And even though I've asked myself dozens of times why, I still don't really have an answer.
So when I saw this article, I slowly got around to clicking on it, and 2 of the 7 reasons suddenly popped out at me, like little road work signs, signaling me to pay attention.
3.) YOU TALK LIKE AN ATHIEST
That one felt like a slap in the face. Here was the description beneath it:
Whatever you are passionate about you will talk about. Are you passionate about God?
Whatever you are passionate about you will talk about. Write that down. When I met my wife, called all my friends. I even called people I didn’t know. I wanted the world to know this beautiful, amazing woman actually liked me.
What about God? Are you passionate about Him? Would any of your co-workers or classmates know you are a Christian? When comfort drives the train, God takes a back seat.
And I thought about it: am I passionate about God? Before I even got done asking myself that question, my brain already had the answer, and it was a sick-making, resounding No that echoed through me like motion waves traveling through metal into your hands, which hurts, by the way. I don't talk about God to my friends; I don't want to "offend" anybody who doesn't have the same beliefs as I do. That's complacency. Nobody likes to hear the truth when it hurts. Hence why I was avoiding The Harbinger.
6.) YOU VIEW CHRISTIAN LIVING AS A LIST OF “DON’TS.”
You can do nothing wrong and still do nothing right-Mark Batterson
Comfort-driven Christians have a laundry list of “don’ts.” They believe in righteousness by subtraction. So, you won’t catch them drinking or cursing…at least not in public.
But righteousness by subtraction is one-sided righteousness. It’s half truth.
The whole truth is your heart should grieve as much when you fail to live out the “dos” as it does when you fail to refrain from the “don’ts.” But comfortable Christians don’t like the “dos.” It involves them getting out of their comfort zone. It involves them taking the message of the gospel to their neighbor. It involves them feeding the poor and correcting injustices.
Are you minimizing righteousness to a list of “don’ts”? Does your heart break for those who don’t know Jesus? Do you grieve when you pass over an opportunity to plead the cause of the poor and oppressed? Is your heart desensitized to the orphans and widows?
If not, maybe it’s time to ask whether you follow comfort or Jesus.
I am comfortable in my ignorance. And that revelation makes me extremely uncomfortable. I don't like going outside my comfort zone; it's terrifying. And yet, when I do, I seem to forget later that the results are quite amazing. This whole night has just been incredibly unsettling. Like, toomanyspinsontheMerryGoRoundandifItrytowalkI'mgoingtoinvoluntarilyfallintothatgarbagecan-unsettling. And also like trying to read that was probably unsettling.
After going through the article twice, I ran upstairs, grabbed The Harbinger, and brought it down to my nest on the couch. Time to get out of my comfort zone, I thought. Once I started, I was doing that annoying thing you do when you read a really suspenseful book (you bookworms will know what I'm talking about): you always skip ahead. Maybe it's only a few words, maybe it's a paragraph, or maybe it's what I was doing, which was beginning at the top of one page and finding myself skipping clear over to the bottom of the page across from it. I just finished the book about half an hour ago, which was close to 3:00 AM; I started it 4 and a half hours ago. I only put it down to go pee, check a few facts, and get a drink of water because the things I was reading and checking were making my mouth and throat go dry.
Like I said earlier, from the description on the back, this book sounds like some conspiracy theory type book, but I kid you not, it couldn't be farther from it. The book is written in a narrative style, which makes the details easier to understand, as opposed to a simple fact-by-fact list kind of deal.
Guys, I don't really expect this to resonate with all of you, but what do you have to lose by giving this a shot? By this, I mean the book, but also, God. You may be someone who thinks this "God stuff" is a bunch of horse-pucky, but I ask you honestly: what do you have to lose by giving this a shot? If anything, it'll just give you something to ponder.
Here is a small part of the end of the book that stuck with me:
"As it is written, 'Now is the time of salvation,' never tomorrow, only now."
"But if we're talking tomorrow, it could still happen then."
"Yes, but only when then has become now, and tomorrow is today. But when it does, you may not be there.
"And why wouldn't I be?"
"How far away from eternity do you think you are, Nouriel?"
"How could I possibly know that?"
"But you can know that," he replied.
"Then what's the answer?" I asked. "How far am I away from eternity?"
"One heartbeat," he replied. " . . . . One heartbeat and there's no more choosing . . ."
"But if I didn't choose..."
"Then you already have. . . ." . . . .
"It's too big a decision to make just like that."
"It's too big a decision not to," he said. . . .
"I need time."
"And you have it, Nouriel...up until the last heartbeat."
One heartbeat away. That saying, "live like you're dying?" It has merit, guys. But my question is what, who, are you living for? Is it worth dying for? Is it worth dying an eternal death for? A lot in this world is uncertain. You may even be uncertain about the very existence of God. But would it be so bad if He were real?
Christians get a lot of grief about being judgmental and cliquey, and trying to shove religion down everyone else's throats. And you know what? I get that; I get why half of my friends say they hate Christians. Because some of us really are like that.
A lot of people I know say they want nothing to do with religion, or when they hear about God, say "I'm not religious." But I will quote another line from this book that said exactly what I always wanted to say to those people, people I love: "'Being religious has nothing to do with it,' he said. 'There's no religion in Heaven, only love.'"
I know I've taken excerpts from this book twice, really close together, but here's just one more that hit me hard:
"It's the call of God to a nation once dedicated to His purposes but now falling away from His will. It's the call of God to return."
"And a call to those who follow His ways...to believers?"
"Exactly."
"But why would believers have to return?" I asked.
"The call of repentance is for the righteous and unrighteous, the godly and ungodly alike. If the righteous had been the lights they were called to be, the nation would never have fallen as it did."
I'd say that's pretty clear, eh, my fellow Christians? A lot of us aren't even worthy to be called Christians; we are not anywhere close to being an embodiment of Christ. Don't worry, I'm including myself in that collective "we." I've been a pretty poor advocate for God and his love. That last line was humbling for me to read; if I metaphorically fell any closer to the ground, I'd be eating dirt.
Give this book a try. Better yet, give God a try, an earnest, soul-searching try. You won't regret it.
My mother has been telling me I should read this book for months. However, the description on the back, plus her method of promotion (a whole lot of doom and gloom), wasn't exactly appealing:
Last week, I found the book atop my flame-patterned comforter that my sister had made in back in high school Home Ec. class. Symbolism? End-times, flames . . . anyone? Okay, bad joke. I set the book on my desk, and as embarrassing as it is to say, I avoided it. I did. And I'm going to tell you the honest-to-goodness truth why.
The truth is, I was afraid. I get that, as a Christian, I'm supposed to be all caught up on my end-times stuff, and ready to go. After all, eternity in Heaven = awesome, right? Except I am absolutely terrified at the thought of what comes after this. I shouldn't be, because, Heaven = awesome, remember? But I'm ashamed to admit that I'm not sure I want it to come yet. I'm selfish; I am going to be 22 years old in September, getting married in less than a year, and I want to enjoy it. And when I spell it out to myself, it doesn't make sense that I want to enjoy the life God gave me a little while longer more than I want to go spend this incredible eternity in Heaven with Him . . . does it? I'm chalking my confusion up to the fact that my puny human brain can't comprehend eternity, along with fear of such a vast unknown.
The point is, I was avoiding that book like the plague because I had it in my head that, "Oh, if I ignore the thought of the imminent end, it'll just go away, and I'll die of old age first!" And who knows, maybe I will die of old age first; I don't know how God runs His timer, whether it ticks in seconds or years, I don't know.
The book sat on my desk for a good few days before I opened it up somewhere in the middle and started reading (something I don't normally let myself do), just to get a feel for it. And oddly enough, although I didn't quite understand what I was reading, I was intrigued. But, just then, my dad called me down to come feed my horse, and the book remained untouched for a few more days.
And then, earlier this evening, I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed (something I do waaay too often) and I saw this title of an article: 7 Signs You Might Love Comfort More than Jesus.
I'm going to make another confession to you: when scrolling through my news feed, I'm more likely to click on an article about animals than an article about Jesus. And even though I've asked myself dozens of times why, I still don't really have an answer.
So when I saw this article, I slowly got around to clicking on it, and 2 of the 7 reasons suddenly popped out at me, like little road work signs, signaling me to pay attention.
3.) YOU TALK LIKE AN ATHIEST
That one felt like a slap in the face. Here was the description beneath it:
Whatever you are passionate about you will talk about. Are you passionate about God?
Whatever you are passionate about you will talk about. Write that down. When I met my wife, called all my friends. I even called people I didn’t know. I wanted the world to know this beautiful, amazing woman actually liked me.
What about God? Are you passionate about Him? Would any of your co-workers or classmates know you are a Christian? When comfort drives the train, God takes a back seat.
And I thought about it: am I passionate about God? Before I even got done asking myself that question, my brain already had the answer, and it was a sick-making, resounding No that echoed through me like motion waves traveling through metal into your hands, which hurts, by the way. I don't talk about God to my friends; I don't want to "offend" anybody who doesn't have the same beliefs as I do. That's complacency. Nobody likes to hear the truth when it hurts. Hence why I was avoiding The Harbinger.
6.) YOU VIEW CHRISTIAN LIVING AS A LIST OF “DON’TS.”
You can do nothing wrong and still do nothing right-Mark Batterson
Comfort-driven Christians have a laundry list of “don’ts.” They believe in righteousness by subtraction. So, you won’t catch them drinking or cursing…at least not in public.
But righteousness by subtraction is one-sided righteousness. It’s half truth.
The whole truth is your heart should grieve as much when you fail to live out the “dos” as it does when you fail to refrain from the “don’ts.” But comfortable Christians don’t like the “dos.” It involves them getting out of their comfort zone. It involves them taking the message of the gospel to their neighbor. It involves them feeding the poor and correcting injustices.
Are you minimizing righteousness to a list of “don’ts”? Does your heart break for those who don’t know Jesus? Do you grieve when you pass over an opportunity to plead the cause of the poor and oppressed? Is your heart desensitized to the orphans and widows?
If not, maybe it’s time to ask whether you follow comfort or Jesus.
I am comfortable in my ignorance. And that revelation makes me extremely uncomfortable. I don't like going outside my comfort zone; it's terrifying. And yet, when I do, I seem to forget later that the results are quite amazing. This whole night has just been incredibly unsettling. Like, toomanyspinsontheMerryGoRoundandifItrytowalkI'mgoingtoinvoluntarilyfallintothatgarbagecan-unsettling. And also like trying to read that was probably unsettling.
After going through the article twice, I ran upstairs, grabbed The Harbinger, and brought it down to my nest on the couch. Time to get out of my comfort zone, I thought. Once I started, I was doing that annoying thing you do when you read a really suspenseful book (you bookworms will know what I'm talking about): you always skip ahead. Maybe it's only a few words, maybe it's a paragraph, or maybe it's what I was doing, which was beginning at the top of one page and finding myself skipping clear over to the bottom of the page across from it. I just finished the book about half an hour ago, which was close to 3:00 AM; I started it 4 and a half hours ago. I only put it down to go pee, check a few facts, and get a drink of water because the things I was reading and checking were making my mouth and throat go dry.
Like I said earlier, from the description on the back, this book sounds like some conspiracy theory type book, but I kid you not, it couldn't be farther from it. The book is written in a narrative style, which makes the details easier to understand, as opposed to a simple fact-by-fact list kind of deal.
Guys, I don't really expect this to resonate with all of you, but what do you have to lose by giving this a shot? By this, I mean the book, but also, God. You may be someone who thinks this "God stuff" is a bunch of horse-pucky, but I ask you honestly: what do you have to lose by giving this a shot? If anything, it'll just give you something to ponder.
Here is a small part of the end of the book that stuck with me:
"As it is written, 'Now is the time of salvation,' never tomorrow, only now."
"But if we're talking tomorrow, it could still happen then."
"Yes, but only when then has become now, and tomorrow is today. But when it does, you may not be there.
"And why wouldn't I be?"
"How far away from eternity do you think you are, Nouriel?"
"How could I possibly know that?"
"But you can know that," he replied.
"Then what's the answer?" I asked. "How far am I away from eternity?"
"One heartbeat," he replied. " . . . . One heartbeat and there's no more choosing . . ."
"But if I didn't choose..."
"Then you already have. . . ." . . . .
"It's too big a decision to make just like that."
"It's too big a decision not to," he said. . . .
"I need time."
"And you have it, Nouriel...up until the last heartbeat."
One heartbeat away. That saying, "live like you're dying?" It has merit, guys. But my question is what, who, are you living for? Is it worth dying for? Is it worth dying an eternal death for? A lot in this world is uncertain. You may even be uncertain about the very existence of God. But would it be so bad if He were real?
Christians get a lot of grief about being judgmental and cliquey, and trying to shove religion down everyone else's throats. And you know what? I get that; I get why half of my friends say they hate Christians. Because some of us really are like that.
A lot of people I know say they want nothing to do with religion, or when they hear about God, say "I'm not religious." But I will quote another line from this book that said exactly what I always wanted to say to those people, people I love: "'Being religious has nothing to do with it,' he said. 'There's no religion in Heaven, only love.'"
I know I've taken excerpts from this book twice, really close together, but here's just one more that hit me hard:
"It's the call of God to a nation once dedicated to His purposes but now falling away from His will. It's the call of God to return."
"And a call to those who follow His ways...to believers?"
"Exactly."
"But why would believers have to return?" I asked.
"The call of repentance is for the righteous and unrighteous, the godly and ungodly alike. If the righteous had been the lights they were called to be, the nation would never have fallen as it did."
I'd say that's pretty clear, eh, my fellow Christians? A lot of us aren't even worthy to be called Christians; we are not anywhere close to being an embodiment of Christ. Don't worry, I'm including myself in that collective "we." I've been a pretty poor advocate for God and his love. That last line was humbling for me to read; if I metaphorically fell any closer to the ground, I'd be eating dirt.
Give this book a try. Better yet, give God a try, an earnest, soul-searching try. You won't regret it.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
(Insert Sarcastic And Dull Tone Here) Help, My Fingers Are Bleeding From All This Work I'm Doing!
Three posts in two days. At this rate, I'm going to need Band-Aids for my fingers, they will be so raw from all the vigorous typing.
I have the house to myself this weekend. My mother is working the whole time, and my father is on a journey to the Idaho mountains, exporting two highly-sought cremello horses to a ranch there, and importing to our farm a buckskin filly. This filly is the sister to my new horse, Hope, a two-year old palomino who reminds me a lot of my Badger . . .
Aren't cremellos just lovely? The cool thing about them is that they used to be a breed that nobody wanted. But, once people started figuring out that breeding to a cremello could throw just about any color baby (by "throw," I mean "give birth to"), horse breeders wanted them. I personally would love to own a cremello. Only bad thing is that, because of their pink skin, they can get sunburned easily, which is no bueno.
I have the house to myself this weekend. My mother is working the whole time, and my father is on a journey to the Idaho mountains, exporting two highly-sought cremello horses to a ranch there, and importing to our farm a buckskin filly. This filly is the sister to my new horse, Hope, a two-year old palomino who reminds me a lot of my Badger . . .
 |
| Cremello, head shot. |
 |
| Cremello, full body shot. |
Anyway, backtracking from that little bunny trail, I have the house to myself this weekend. Well, to myself, and Bear, Rory, Chloe, and Chomper.
Almost every one of my animals looks totally finished with humans. Except for Bear; he just looks surprised.
 |
| Bear. What a looker. |
 |
| Wee little Rory. (Humans also pictured from left to right: Brother, Me, Sister) |
 |
| Chloe looks very done, right now. |
 |
| Top photo: Chomper the snapping turtle. Bottom photo: Chomper the dinosaur. Remarkable resemblance, don't you think? |
By the way, if you don't know who Chomper the dinosaur is, drop whatever you're doing (as soon as you're done reading this post) and go watch The Land Before Time. All of them. All 13 (or so) of them. Your childhood does not exist until you've watched The Land Before Time. And Anastasia.
 |
| It may just be the artist in me, but . . . does her hand look disproportionately drawn to you? |
In other news, it's 89 degrees outside, although it feels much hotter because of the humidity. And yet, I'm curled up in sweatpants and my super-soft sweatshirt I bought in South Carolina, and slippers that one of my friends bought me for my 17th birthday. I could be outside, frolicking through our non-existent sprinkler (it's very hard to frolic when you're the one holding up the hose with your thumb over the top of it to get the sprinkler effect). Or, I could be doing something productive, like cleaning, or reading a book (I consider that productive), or, for goodness sake, working on my own book! But no. It's after 2 pm, and I'm still in my PJ's, drinking a Liquid Ice energy drink and sitting in front of my computer, subjecting my pets to pictures and excessive, unwanted cuddling. Note to self: Chomper the snapping turtle does not like cuddling.
Granted, at least I'm writing. Here. Right now. On this blog post. But sadly, I have nothing intelligent to say. All my motivation to do stuff this weekend has gone straight into my laptop keyboard and cordless mouse, where it is now lost amongst lights, wires, and circuit boards. How astonishingly pathetic.
This will probably end with me pulling up Minecraft to piddle around with a few new mods I discovered (they had one with real furniture; my beach-side hotel now has toilets!).
Or, I may prance upstairs and get tendonitis (or is it tendinitis? I keep seeing it spelled different ways . . . ) from thumb-jamming the PS3 controller buttons whilst fighting a dragon or running from a giant in the wonderful land of Skyrim.
Well, that's all I've got for now. Good talking to you, ladies and gents.
This is Maximum Sunshine, signing off. Αντίο και ο Θεός ταχύτητας.
P.S. Enjoy this lovely song by Future of Forestry, titled "Slow Your Breath Down" from their album Travel II - EP.
MISSING
Okay, guys, I know not all of you are in my area, but those of you who are, I need some help. Yesterday, around 6:00 pm or so, our Pyrenees puppy, Asia, escaped from her pen and disappeared into thin air. We drove all over, we hiked up the hills and through the woods, we called her name until we were hoarse, but nothing. So, I'm hoping maybe you all could keep your eyes peeled for her. I have a video of her playing in her pool, taken in June. She's a big girl, very friendly, and she likes to put her paws on you. She should be wearing her collar, but if not, well, this is what she looks like:
https://www.facebook.com/Sunshine7143/videos/10155759427290548/?pnref=story
If anyone sees her, please let me know right away. I'd be forever grateful.
-Max
https://www.facebook.com/Sunshine7143/videos/10155759427290548/?pnref=story
If anyone sees her, please let me know right away. I'd be forever grateful.
-Max
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