Journeys of a Wandering Wordsmith
Journey with me on my blog!
That Time I Stood Up to a Homophobic, Transphobic Bully – Also, a Pastor
A storyteller I follow refers to his growth in the numerical unit of past iterations of himself. "That was eight Robs ago," he'd say of himself, back when he used to believe one thing or behave a totally different way. I've started viewing my own growth in this vein, thinking about all the Toms that have existed in this singular Tom, particularly with regard to this active-passive dynamic. My passivity has run especially true in matters of relational conflict. Given the option to fight a conflict or flight a conflict (please excuse my incorrect usage of a noun as a verb in the name of symmetry), I will flight nine times out of ten. Ah, but then there's always that one instance...
The Joys and Challenges of Traveling Solo Across Alaska
Here's a multi-faceted realization I've found in recent years: I absolutely love to travel solo — and most people absolutely do not. Traveling solo doesn't daunt me; indeed, it ignites something primal and wondrous in me. Comparing myself to how most other people travel, though, is another mountain: Why are they not like me? Why am I not at all like them?
Healthy Rest / Unhealthy Rest
I'm realizing healthy rest bleeds into my productivity. "Healthy productivity" – that's a thing, too. Not just being productive from a sense of duty, distracting-distracting-distracting your heart, but producing from a well-stewarded overflow. Incorporating rest not just after but into my productivity – this is the magic.
Leave Me Alone
I'm grieving more than just the loss of my grandfather — a hero, a giant, an embodiment of God's love. I'm grieving all relational brokenness. I'm grieving human death for the first time, yes, but I'm also grieving everything else that separates humanity. Divorce, war, disagreement, misunderstanding, vitriol. Friends who aren't friends anymore.
This Isn't Real Life
When real life gets hard and messy and not as it should be, I have an inner sanctum I return to, again and again. One rotted by dopamine-laced falsities.
Nothing Makes Sense (And the C Chord Lingers Still)
I don't know where this particular tune in time is taking me. I hear a lot of silence right now. Resolution feels far off. The last note lingers, and I want to hear the final sound.
A Man of God I Am Not
Upstream, of course. I've always been swimming upstream. Against the current. The current of sexuality. The current of introversion. The current of inferiority. The current of separation. The current of brokenness and deficiency. The current of not being quite enough of a man, if even at all. Let alone a man of God.
My Weird Little Introverted Internet Life
Like, this is actually my life now. Meeting folks from the Internet wherever I go. Near and far and down the street. I mean, I've lived this life for years now. I'm not oblivious to it. I'm just feeling it really strongly today. Realizing I hardly translate my weird little introverted Internet life to others.
