Kara’s tap shoes are still in the hall

I stay up too late. That’s the truth. 11:26 p.m. at the end of a day that began with no sleep and I’m up and awake again. And why? I don’t really know. I try to write, and little gets said. I try to read and just fall asleep. I update my computer, check out friends’ blogs, and maybe even their friends’ blogs—revisit in Real Audio a story I caught the end of on NPR during the day’s commute. Tonight, for example, I’m listening to some tracks from Winton Marsalis’s latest release “From the Planatation to the Penitentiary.” Its dissonant title track, mixed straight up against the absolute monochrome vocals of Jennifer Sanon, is perfect.

Tomorrow is a two-and-a-half-hour discussion at work on “the publication process.” A glance a the syllabus says it is to be a team exercise, followed up by a five-minute presentation. And after that: a meeting with my acquisition editors to discuss that curious little borderland between science and faith. Work is a kind of life. It is never your own voice, but God made us social beings. I think we need to work with others, just biologically, and as people mildly acquainted with the Kingdom of God, we want to see human freedom maximized in our working structures.

Yesterday, L and I attended the third installment of a book discussion of N. T. Wright’s book Evil and the Justice of God. Chapter three: the crucified God. My priest, Fr. Chris, is always amazingly patient with me—as L. said later, “When you speak, you always have three points. They are good points, but you never make just one.” We talk for an hour-and-a-half about choice, motivation, and the slippery origin of that kink in each one of us and in the patterns, actions, and templates of life.

I catch myself sleeping in front of something on the Food channel. Have you caught any of those shows about cake decorating. It is crazy what you can do with sugar and a blowtorch! Or, I realize I’m reading cnn.com just to be reading. Kara’s tap shoes are still in the hall. That blown light needs replacing. Windows takes forever to shut down. Dark, I slide into bed. The ceiling creaks from our upstairs neighbors. A car drives by.