Timeless

I started writing something completely different. I changed my mind.

I watched most of conference today. Some of it was good. I need the condensed version, though. I need fewer formalities and more raw insight. I know that they probably shouldn't do that with the many interpreters and the careful doctrinal line that the church has to keep, but I like knowing that the person is real, that their feelings are sincere.

All of that watching TV makes me feel pretty lethargic. I should have probably gone and run in the mountains--do something to make my body happier--but I had to finish up some stupid stuff on campus. I met a cool kid from my class, and we met some douche-bag guy that needed to pull the stick out of his ass. Anyway, I ended up working with the cool kid to finish up the stuff, got back to my apartment and stuffed my face... watched more conference...

I don't know what to say. The part of me that misses having some emotional connection somehow gets miraculously satisfied. I love my friends. 

Why do I feel like God still loves me? Why do I feel like I'm still ok? There are a million reasons why I should be estranged, why He should be silent, why all of my blessings should be revoked, voided. But I feel closer.

It's the effort. I don't know as if I can say exactly in what direction I'm heading in this one regard. I have a careful plan for everything else in my life, and this one thing seems to be a complete wild card, an unknown to me. And, as I've said before, I've become aware of the fact that I won't be traveling the carefully paved path of Mormondom. Those rites of passage aren't mine to take. And so I find myself pushing forward on some unknown path, pushing through the brambles without knowing what I'm doing, seeing neither path markings nor footprints. I'm trying to move decisively. But the departure from the path requires my relying on something, whether it be my resolve or some higher power. I'm still inclined to rely on the higher power. And this unmarked path fosters a relationship with Him. It makes me even more grateful for His blessings because I am certain that I have done nothing to merit them.

My thoughts are a horrible mess. I'm not sure what to make of all of this; but, at the very least, it is cathartic to write.