And tags!

They are coming for me. Allow the depth of those words sink. They are coming for me. While I cannot be certain, I can feel it. As real as any compulsion or ghost touch, someone will come. I have witnessed the process many times. When someone isn't at church, they worry, they send an emissary. I am certain the leadership would not likely know the better of my absence, my roommates will. Jon distinctly said, "see you in church." Perhaps a reactionary grunt on my part was taken as confirmation, and they will become distressed, worried that I fell in the shower, paralyzed from the waist down, when I do not show.

I had glanced at my watch before my shower. I realized then I would not be on time with less than 20 minutes to travel and preen. I tried to think of what I would say. I even began to think of what I would write I would say! It was a very eventful shower.

I do not like to be late. No, that is not it at all. I fear being late. I would simply not go than be late. There is a certain shame there instilled by my father, that comes with being late. Sitting in the hard seats, the orange seats, the foyer, whatever it may be, I cannot stand it. When it comes down to going and being late or just not going, I usually choose the later, which was the most likely factor in my "academic suspension" last year. Although it may have been called something else. It stopped me from registering for classes in either case. I could not sign up for classes because the Bishop said so. Then he went on vacation. The guy's an asshole. I must have called his house 200 times trying to resolve that mess. If I should ever become famous and entirely disillusioned, I shall publish that account in my memoirs as the great fall in my religious standing. Or something. It's hard to type, my pinky fingernail is too long.

Sometimes I worry that I am too frank in my journaling. That it is too much diarying. But then I recall that no one reads this, save my girlfriend and her father. Perhaps Melanie too, for which she receives a shout-out. Hell, shout-outs to all! It is of some concern that her father reads this, I try not to worry. I should not fear assault, though many fathers try to project such a threat in their daughter's relations, it is not one I have been familiar with for some time. I should be far more concerned that somehow my parents may fall upon this blog and its indictments of my personal character, which I imagine they could find quite disturbing or something. I lost my thoughts there as I searched for the correct spelling of indictment, complicated by The Free Dictionary going down. I cruised over to Crooks and Liars, one of my favorite partisan blogs hoping the spelling might be found somewhere in pages discussing Scooter Libby, but I ultimately used Google as a spell checker. I told myself last year that I would start reading conservative blogs if power ever switched parties, as I am opposed to any one power holding too much of it and wished to maintain my moder-acy, but I haven't. I now find myself telling myself that I will switch if the presidency falls one way and the congresses and so on. But I know it is a lie. Why would I tell myself these things? I believe in many of the Democratic causes, enough that I registered as a member of their party. But it is difficult to hold such a standing here in "Gayburg" as some call it, but it is a stupid name; Sexburg would be better because you only change one letter. Still, they remain unmoved.

I have less than 5 minutes remaining. I don't know that I have said anything meaningful in this second post, only that I have postponed my communion. I did not mention what I had been planning to say when asked, like I had planned to. Some spiel about an undeniable compulsion to write that seized me. Which is true; it did get the best of me. But I will likely omit any tellings of my late-o-phobia, which I believe it could be classified as since it is obviously disrupting my life. I feel less passionate about it when its something besides church though, although it still very much present on commutes to work. I just get distracted. Distracted hard. Often times I'll want to write something, something profound or something, I don't know, my phone's alarm is telling me to go to church and I'm trying to ignore it. But when I get on the computer, I fall prey to all the distractions of the internet, and whatever. I really should get going. I don't know how I feel about these two posts. They will require some editing for links and whatnot. And tags!