You give me a line-up of six people, any age or gender or race or creed, and tell me that one of them has a hemorrhoid and I gotta pick out that person, I can do it. No question. It's the person who looks like they've lost the will to live. He or she is the one with the dark eyes, the eyes that are trying to conceal incredible pain and dreading the next time they have to make use of their anus. I would pick that person out by gently kissing them on the forehead and saying, in Latin, "All your troubles are held in the wings of a dove."
I'm now down 7.7 pounds on my diet and working out hard everyday has gotten a lot easier. I'm not really out of breath when I finish, but I have to stop eating so much spinach as it's not digesting well and deciding to hang out inside of me for weeks at a time.
I would encourage you to check out the new Frontline entitled "Country Boys." Do you remember being a teenager? I do. This film is so awkward to watch at times, but the most honest thing in the world. It made me remember my first "band" in which me and Chris Nanda jumped around in my room and shouted bad hardcore lyrics. I had big pants and hope and awkward, passionate faith and a crush on Jenny Roth. My mom caught me mid-jump one time, screaming a Focal Point lyric that started out "When I die." She was terrified by this, "I come up to your room and you're jumping around like a maniac, screaming, 'When I die.'" This was "spirit-filled" hardcore so the rest of the lyric was "I live" and I quickly told my mother this. Of course, she couldn't really say anything to that except that it was frightening, but that was the point, you know? It was like rebellion without rebelling.
Also, all this adolescent love, this trying to keep things hidden, this wondering, this fear of the future.
I'm also taking a swing at Biblical inerrancy.