waking up

I don’t like typing a page worth of stuff and then have it get lost… I feel like cussing but I won’t. By the way, to you people reading this; it’s my journal, so I really don’t see why I have to make this informative like a perpetual message I’m leaving my close friends because I don’t have enough time to tell them myself. I will continue writing in this journal as if no one else would see it but me. OK?

Mom is having tough time with grieving over Grandpa, and Wayne missed work all last week. My dad seems to be doing alright. I’m alright, I guess, but I hate this stupid schoolwork. Why on earth do I have to put my learning above my family and friends? I wish I could be there to comfort my mom, or just make meaningful relationships with more people rather than always focusing on doing papers and all that stuff. *Sigh* is all I can really say. I guess I could manage my time better… BE A GOOD STEWARD WARREN!!!

Need to read the Bible… Need to open my social eyes, need to do papers for English and Sociology, need to write good Jazz music, need to be the most awesome musician I can ever be, and want to find a girl. Bleh.

I’m at my brothers house in Irvine right now. Why? We’re driving home to San Francisco tonight. Why? To spend time with my parents. Why? My grandfather passed away last night…

There isn’t too much to say other than I said my goodbyes, knew it was coming, and will miss him dearly. He was a man full of remarkable stories and always taught me to be proud of my heritage and family. He always held his head up high no matter what befell him and his family. Dsu Bing Li, a father of six, grandfather of fourteen… I’ll miss you.

I truly am blind in so many ways.

I blind myself with my pride, my emotions, my prejudices, my apprehensions, and most of all, my assumptions. I like thinking I’m smart. I got a 149 on the IQ test and www.thespark.com. I go to UCLA. People say I’m smart. But am I, really? I think the answer is no. Funny thing is, if I’m not smart, then how do I know the answer? Here’s why: it doesn’t matter if I am smarter than other people or not, and being smarter isn’t even necessarily a good thing. But, God is all that matters. I read that in Ecclesiastes, so in all my thinking and trying to be smart, I really don’t get myself anywhere. I only learn things that God wants me to learn. My own thinking just leads me into circles…

I talked with Theo a few times over the past few days. He has gotten quite angry or frustrated talking to me because I always respond with some kind of answer. I don’t know about you, but I think when I ask questions, I am looking for answers. I know that girls like to have people listen, and sympathize, and guys will always try to help find answers, but really aren’t doing what the girl wants, which is, “I, too, know what it feels to have a dry mouth (White Men Can’t Jump).” I’m not saying Theo is a girl obviously, but I am saying that I am thick-headed in dealing with him because my answers, from the bible or from my personal experience, just weren’t good enough. Being smart doesn’t help here. It just gets me cussed at.

I remember last year, even though I knew all about the material we were covering in World Music Theory, I got an A-, a B, and then a B-. Horrible grades for someone who does all the homework, gets 97% or above on every test, and just knows it all already. But being smart, once again, didn’t help. My attendance pulled down my grade. Quite sad…

This whole thing with Victoria… sad. I firstly was too blinded by my own emotions to see that I could not constantly hope for it to be more than a friendship. So blind, that I couldn’t see she wasn’t learning from our experiences as well as myself. So blind, that I couldn’t help but put her above everything else at times. So blind, I pitied myself when I was sad she couldn’t come visit. So blind, that the most beautiful thing about her in my mind didn’t happen to be God. Blinded by my mind, emotions, and will to please myself through pleasing her.

I don’t say, really, that I have to call myself stupid or dumb to really put God first. I do, though, have to realize that my mind will not get me any place without it being focused on God — any place important, for that matter.

I am reminded of young children. If you have ever baby-sat, or been around one for long enough, you would see that their minds are, for lack of a better way to describe, less advanced than ours. But this does not put any sort of damper on their spirit. When encountering a problem they may become frustrated when they cannot overcome. Some will try over and over again, until it just unreasonable to keep trying. Others will give up and cry. The indomitable or the afflicted, both have souls deeply affected in this simple manner. I find that as we get older, we build up those barriers that would otherwise allow penetration to the spirit. We bar out things with our many defense mechanisms in times where we are attacked or criticized. In my case, I put my talents and my brain in front of things that might just teach me something…

I pray for the heart of God to be on my heart. On Sunday, Pastor Dave at Oikos said that we often have too many things in our hearts. There is too much clutter, and we don’t have enough room for the things of God. One way, he said, to tell if we are growing, is to ask each ourselves if we are growing in love. Are you growing in love? Love is on God’s heart; God has love for the lost and the saved alike, and has love for the people we hate or have prejudice against, and has love for the people we are fond of just the same. Do we grow continually in love for all of these people? Sure, holding the door open for that girl you like is simple enough, but can we invite the guy who just drives us nuts over to our house/dorm? Can we be nice to those who insult us, or those who we know think themselves better than us? God calls us to (2 Cor. 5:14-6:2). If we can’t we have too much bitterness, pride, and just plain clutter in our hearts.

2 Corinthians 5:15 – “And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.”

I wake up around 10:15 AM although my first class is at 12:00 PM. I decide not to rush myself in the mornings so I can relax and really be awake by the time I get everything done and have to pay attention in class. I have my lunch to eat (or breakfast in this case) and get all my things ready. Technically, it is my first full day of school, because the professor for my only class last Thursday didn’t show up. Fridays I have no classes, so, with this being my first full day, I want to make sure I’m ready. I get out of bed–which is always a task worth mentioning–and proceeded to do the usual: check e-mail, brush my teeth, and get dressed. By the time all that’s all done, I realize the clock reads 10:45. I head down to the dining hall, only to find that they don’t open until 11:00 for lunch. I wait patiently for the next ten minutes to find that about 30 other students have made the same error.

The doors open, and the sea of students flows into the cafeteria. I walk patiently, knowing that I’ll get my turn for nourishment. I pick all the things I want and sit down at my usual table, for which some reason unknown to me is never taken when I am there. I eat slowly, and with no one to talk to, I just begin to let my mind wander in to far off places. I think about the music I have just written and recorded the past week, and how happy I am about them, and I think about new lyrics I can put down for my next song. Darn, I remember I left my backpack in the locker outside. No creativity will flow for now.

I look around the cafeteria, searching among all the various people walking for faces I know. Nobody. But one thing catches my eye…

I see a man standing still while everyone beside him is moving. Why?

I see the black uniform he is wearing; he is a cafeteria worker. Don’t they have to be working during the hours of operation?

I see he is carrying a tray of food. Why?

I see his right arm, linked to a girl’s left arm.

I see that she is blind.

He bends over to her, gently speaking, and I would guess, said something like, “I’m getting a drink for you now. Stay put a second; what do you want to drink?” He lets go of her arm, and sets down the tray. He goes over to the machine, gets a drink, and returns with the tray to this patient girl. With linked arms, they walk to her seat.

I immediately pray and thank God for seeing eyes. I feel overwhelmed with emotion, and try not to cry because it’s a public place. I thank God for all of the things He has done for me, and especially the ones that I take for granted so much each day. I finish eating and walk to class. One thing strikes me as I’m walking, though. I wonder why I felt so compelled to suddenly thank God for what I have. It isn’t because I have so much. It isn’t because the girl had less in some way. It isn’t because I felt like I was superior. So what was it? Oh, I’ve got it. I was moved, not because of her blindness, but my own.