My head has felt so fuzzy for a week and true things have seemed very distant. This is probably because I’ve been feverish and ill, coughing and hacking (rattle and hum) since Thursday. I can’t remember the last time I was this sick.
The sickness seems to have shot all of the worthwhile things I thought I had to say. But they probably weren’t worth hearing anyway. I can’t write brilliant prose like Rachel or craft clever questions like Brittany or create parodies and hilarious metaphors like Jonathan anyway.
I know two things about God:
1. He is stronger than the stone of the chapel that kept us from the tempest last night
2. Jesus’ blood never failed me
I took the Myers-Brigg again tonight for the IV leadership application and was reviewing my results, consistent to the last time I took it, which label me as an ENTJ, or a Fieldmarshal. I’ve always balked at defining my life around this combination of letters, which I know some people do, but reading the description of the type was kind of eerie—it so accurately described the story and frustrations of my life.
“Hardly more than two percent of the total population, the Fieldmarshals are bound to lead others, and from an early age they can be observed taking command of groups. In some cases, Fieldmarshals simply find themselves in charge of groups, and are mystified as to how this happened. But the reason is that Fieldmarshals have a strong natural urge to give structure and direction wherever they are -- to harness people in the field and to direct them to achieve distant goals.”
It also said somewhere that Fieldmarshals are notably poor at actually carrying out the goals they advocate. And this is woefully true.
I haven’t read anything good in such a long time.
This is all I have tonight. Except, KELSEY, I LOVE YOU.
Reading: All the Pretty Horses, Cormac McCarthy, and Real Sex, Lauren Winner
Hearing: “Amazing Grace,” Sufjan Stevens and “Guyamas Sonora,” Beirut
Thinking: I really should study some literary theorists now.