Hollow Men

I was absentmindedly browsing petfinder.com yesterday, and that's when I sat up and swore that, girlfriend or not, by the time I graduate, I'm going to get a little dog. More than feeling lonely, and more than wanting a raggedy but cute heap around so it can chew and poop on all my belongings, I want to be there to raise and take care of the little guy. And it hits me that what I really long for is something or someone to commit to and to be able to say that I do have a heart, a couple of things that I've found significantly wanting for much of my sad life. I'm ashamed of how frequently unloving I am--another child of the dead and anesthetized human condition--and I hesitate to even think of whether I'll ever allow myself to get close to someone, let alone have the joy of having a loving, working relationship drowning height-deep in friendship and the person of Christ. Sometimes, when I'm being especially foolish, I talk my head and heart into thinking that I could handle a relationship, especially if it threw itself in my way (lazy). But it's in that very moment that I especially know that I am not ready. And so I continue to hope and trust and know that there's much work to be done within me. I'm curious, though, about what kind of dog you guys think fits me best.

Now in a spot of really sad news, this morning, without using what few brains God gave me, I lose my "Kobe 4 MVP" pen in a brief but shocking struggle to the vacuum cleaner. I got it a couple seasons ago, and I really didn't think that my vacuum still had so much oomph in it. Cruelly betrayed by another household appliance. I'll miss you, you venerable and truthy writing stick.