Azusa Gardens is a very special place (or, unearthing the details)

These are the reasons why Azusa Gardens is very special place. (The term "special" can be interpreted as derogatory as the reader so pleases, by the way...)

Reason #1: The guy who plays Taps every night around 10pm sharp.

Reason #2: The non-native English speakers East-Asian neighbors who play video games, and seemingly yell and bang against the walls...

Reason #3: The cat statue outside our across-the-way neighbor's  door.  It has those decorative stones for eyes and is holding a sign explaining just what species it is.

Reason #4: The man who walks around banging bells and yelling out indistinguishable phrases, who is either enacting a pagan seance, or is selling little Hispanic goodies.      

As for the later portion of my blog title, I've realized that my face is not symmetrical.  At all.  In the slightest.  The nerves or something in the right side of my face raise everything a little higher.  I tried my hardest to find some sort of important life-reflection lesson thing that would be illuminated from this, but...alas.  Yet I still feel it is very important to put this out there.  That's all.

Sorry for wasting your time. :)  This sort of remedial verbal processing is what my roommate has to endure all the time, so...don't feel bad. 

lalalalalala Bobby McGee

"Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose,
Nothing don’t mean nothing honey if it ain’t free, now now.
And feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues,
You know feeling good was good enough for me,
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee. "

Man, I'm glad I have this on vinyl.  I also wish I had a digdy-tal version of it, so I could listen to it over and over and over and over...

"Everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey"

Life=good=not posting blogs?

thus seems to be the case.  and is rather depressing.  i guess i do my best work while being under pressure, and God is blessing me with a time period of not being under pressure.  

I just get to dream in non-sequentialisms and admire the little pockets of beauty around me--like the light reflecting off the heat coming out of the oven dancing on my kitchen wall.  I have to be absorbed rather than observe. Learn to simply exist in the moments that make life worth it, rather than capitalizing on them through insincere prose.  Celebrate, and pray that eventually my first response will be a murmur of praise rather than a conception of my fabricated involvement in such events.  Share for the sake of giving Glory to God and to give witness to the Kingdom, not to make myself appear to be thoughtful and intuitive and, as all of us writers really (really) want to be: interesting.  

So, when I share that the highlight of my week thus far has been my 50-year-old client, who has never really had the opportunity to grow and operate independently in her life, checked out a book from the library all by herself and without any prompting, it's because I have to give thanks to the One Who loves her more than imaginable.  When I describe the look of joy and pride on her face, and  recount her insistence on telling everyone that "Book...Myself!", it's because I can't contain my joy. We both offer simple and short words, but they hold a depth of a joy and hope beyond which any of us are capable of articulating.

But these words aren't really for you, or me, or anyone else in particular, because they are just reflections of a life that does not belong to me--a life i cannot harness and domesticate with my considerably inadequate language. 

and thus sums my apology for not writing blogs more often. :)