50 Shades Of Green

I don’t like living in the prairies.

If you live in the prairies, have lived in the prairies, or generally like living in the prairies, good for you. But I don’t like it.

You see, I was born in the mountains. Here in the prairies, I feel exposed. Also, there’s nothing to do here…

In the mountains, I can go on adventures. Here, not as much. Generally speaking, I can’t really go anywhere other than the roads, because farmers don’t like it when I trample their crops.

In the mountains, I can go wandering in the woods and no one cares because no one farms there.

But anyways.

I went to the highest point around, (a fifty foot hill), and watched the sunset.

It wasn’t a mind-boggling sunset. There weren’t any clouds in the sky, and everyone knows that clouds are needed for those amazing fiery sunsets.

But I went anyways. I parked my car at the top of the hill, got out, climbed on the roof and sat there.

I was a bit early. the sun was still high, but it had turned red.

The colours were fantastic. Who knew that there were so many shades of green?

Every hill, every bump in the fields stretching out before me was a different green. The light danced a different dance on each blade of grass (Or sheaf of wheat or whatever. I don’t really know agriculture very well).

Dust from passing cars had settled in the lower dips, creating quasi-clouds floating on the ground. I was being eaten alive by mosquitos, and my leg was going numb because the roof-rack digging into the back of my knee.

A truck rolls by, covering me in dust.

I go home.

Boredom and Words

So I’m kinda really, really bored, and I randomly felt like writing something, so here you go.

Life’s good right now. I got my private pilot’s license a month and a half ago, I spent a month building hours, doing insanely long cross-countries, learning how to fly in class C airspace (I also had a 737 overfly me at 500 feet), and now I’m learning to fly taildraggers (Which is way too much fun). For those of you who didn’t understand that, I have my flying license, I fly in places with big planes (and had a very big plane go right over my head) and now I’m learning how to fly planes that are really hard to fly (but are a lot of fun anyways).

Also, I have had some donations to my Africa fund, but nowhere near enough, so more donations would make me really, really happy! This trip to Chad is something that God has really layed on my heart, and donations are the only way to make this happen. Please, donate.

Also, my flight school just had flight camps. I was a cabin leader, which was a blast; all the campers were great! (Though one of my campers was older that me…)

I read the entirety of The Chronicles Of Narnia (like, all 7 books) in 6 days. I forgot how good they are. Though I do have a question that keeps bugging me. (Before I go on, warning: Spoiler Alert!) In The Last Battle, They make it clear that Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. However, at the end of the book, we learn that Lucy, Peter, Edmund, Eustace, Jill, Polly, Diggory, and the Pensieve parents are all dead from a train crash. What we don’t know, is what happened to Susan. Was she with her parents? Is she dead? If so, where is she? If she wasn’t with her parents, what will she do now? She’s an orphan without siblings. Does she come to faith? I guess this is the brilliance of literature. The unanswered questions, the things that leave the readers guessing.

Also, after years of meaning to, I finally signed up to be a blood donor. I kept meaning to, but I kept forgetting when I actually had the chance to do something. Anyways, there’s a clinic in a few days, so I’ve already booked an appointment.

So yeah, I don’t really have an ending to this post, I just wanted to kill half an hour. Mission accomplished.

Actually, here’s an ending:

I was digging through my old files when I found this poem. Apparently I wrote it, but I don’t remember why or when, but based off how it’s written, I’d say it’s from my early high-school years.

Words

They ain’t my thing.

They never have been, and always won’t.

We use words to show our thoughts

But thoughts aren’t words

They’re different.

Completely.

A thought can be an emotion.

A thought can be a picture

But words

Words are marks.

We assign meaning to these marks,

But what about meanings that don’t have marks?

What about home?

That’s more than a building, or a place

A thought or an emotion?

It’s more than either. It’s all and then some

We don’t have a word for it. How can I share it?

Words

I don’t like them

They contain

They hem in

If I can, I won’t use them

because being with you

Is truly the best I can do.