Jack
Except from Jari's analog diary, 2002-6-20, 1:29am:
Ummmm… Dear Diary?
Nah, that’s much too boring and clichéd, but I’m too tired to care right now. Maybe some other time.
Strange things have happened all around. I’ve been reading a comic called “Jack” (jack.keenspace.com), and it’s put me into a blessedly thoughtful mood. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the urge to write. I’ve missed it. Anyways, Stitch talked me into reading it. I was skeptical at first, because Stitch’s tastes are generally contradictory to my own, he being drawn to dark, morbid, and often oblique humor, and myself preferring light, airy, cute things. But that’s just what interests me, this comic that I’m reading is very dark and intense, filled with tales of violent, heart-wrenching death, loss, and tragedy of all kinds. It’s certainly not meant to be funny, though there are occasional attempts and the comic relief is good (Fnar is, of course, my favorite character). It’s got more than its share of questionable content, but most of it is just what you’d find in real life (‘sides, you can’t shock a Jari!).
It’s odd…that comic is totally contrary to my usual preferences. I hate things that delve into the harshness of reality. I read books and comics to escape reality, to get away to another world that isn’t so ugly. That’s why I hated English class…they enjoyed shoving the worst dregs of the earth into your face in novel form with the perverse joy that only an English major can take from it. My philosophy still remains, “if I want to see chaos and murder and rape and all things immoral, I’ll watch the news, not read a book.” But for some reason I’m still drawn to this comic that goes against my fundamental beliefs, and it’s not just because the characters are cute (if suspiciously Dr. Seuss-y) and they’re all animals (though those two reasons are why I’ve kept reading the comic, I’m sure).
I think that it must be some deep inner fascination with death. That was certainly not there before. I wonder what it means. Probably that my time here is nearly up. I doubt that though…God has made it clear he has a purpose for me and that I haven’t fulfilled it yet. But I don’t believe for a moment that I’m intended to live to a ripe old age. I’m just not built for it, I guess. I’ve squandered my life savings, intentionally trying to get rid of it for some incompletely-known reason, and I’ve arranged my life in such a way that it won’t be difficult to leave it…in fact, some times I wish I could, just to get away for a little while (that’s why I enjoy reading so much, I think). But deeper than all that, I just know in the way that I just know things sometime that my time here is short It’s funny…looking back on my life, I can see how I’ve been expecting death…how I strive to make a real difference in peoples’ lives, yet always try to make a clean break, how I do my best to leave a bit of myself behind for the world, whether in warm memories or in writing or physical things. Why do you think I’m writing this? I try to live my life open and honest so that the world can see and perhaps discover some deeper truth in or through it. For example, when I’m role-playing online, I keeps logs of everything, every word that’s said, every player I encounter, everything that happens (luckily they have programs that do this to save me the typing :-3 ). I told myself when I began that I would save them until I was a ripe old age, then I could look back through them. But I have well over 700 now, and I’m quite certain that I shall never read through them all, or probably even get them all sorted out into one naming convention. It’s just not in me, not in God’s plan for me, I don’t think. In fact, I’m passing certain of it.
Six years ago, God made it clear that He has a plan for me. He didn’t show me what it was, but He saved my life and that of my family when it made sense that we shouldn’t have survived. Especially not me. He had a plan for me then, and that event played big part in nudging me down the path, but I’m not there yet. I know He has more in store for me, some great purpose known only to Him that I will probably never appreciate until long after I’m dead. Like the guy in “It’s a Wonderful Life”, I suppose, except that he didn’t die.
You know, someone once asked me who my favorite Bible character was. I think I told the person that I wasn’t sure at the time, but now I can answer without even having to think about it: Paul of Tarsus. Paul and I are a lot alike, I think; we both love to help and encourage where we are able (he wrote most of the New Testament, especially the letters to various churches offering encouragement and instruction), we both can’t resist a good debate, and both our lives were changed by a miracle from God. He was struck blind on the road to Damascus; I was struck dumb on the road to Grandma’s house. Okay, so maybe it doesn’t sound quite so grand, but we were both persecuting Christians in out own way, and a single event turned both of us around so that we could see God’s truth. God gave both of us a limited perception of his Plan for us, along with many other powers with which to attest to Him. God has blessed both our lives and allowed us both to see His Word at work in many lives in many wonderful ways. I thank the Lord that I could serve Him, and that I could help others at the same time!