I have taken the last of Briana's codeine tonight, because I was feeling very aching and unable to get comfortable while I was reading. Briana has already chastised me before for taking this prescription drug unnecessarily. I cannot say that my experiences with it have been terribly psychedelic, but having accidentally mixed it with alcohol with a very surprising result I have remained curious. I have previously written a very bizarre poem accompanied by a self-portrait while inebriated one night. I do not have much memory of writing it, and the words left me in awe. It is probably my favorite thing I have ever wrote. So, when I started to feel light-headed tonight, it occurred to me that this might be a unique opportunity to write something unusual while under the influence of this controlled substance. My views on altered states has changed dramatically since my first-hand experience has increased somewhat. I used to hold the opinion that all actions done in an altered state were inauthentic, a lie. However, I have become more convince, at least in the case of alcohol, that one can be a great deal more honest while intoxicated. One's judgment as to what is appropriate behavior certainly becomes impaired, but the words that spill forth are more genuine and uninhibited by social awkwardness, which has always been a thorn in my side.
Alcohol often encourages me to get out of the self-imposed sound booth, which is my head. Too often I want to prepare my words so carefully that I end up not talking at all. I just continually edit my thoughts until the appropriate moment to share them passes or I merely feign indifference about whatever current topic of conversation has been introduced. I am, in fact, very opinionated, but I have neutered my intellect with an overzealous conviction that I should be humble. My pursuit of humility has made me passive to the point that I will not even give an honest answer to a straight forward question for fear that I come across as arrogant or pretentious. I must, as is usually the case, find a middle ground in which to live, while still holding true to my convictions and principals.
I have even bcome so terrified of putting my thoughts into words that it has prevented me from writing, which is a gift that I want to exercise more than nearly anything. I will end my vow of silence. I will cast aside my reservations at voicing my disapproval of things, while remembering to practice my sincere, empathetic listening abilities. I want to connect with all people. Tomorrow, I will boldy connect with those less fortunate than myself, but not so unfortunate as to not live in Milwaukee, WI.
I have held my tongue too long.
Kept all convictions a secret
Between God, myself and my wife
Acting as if my thoughts didn't merit
The attention of others
Or at least the chance to echo
In all their perfect ears
Whether pitch perfect or dissonant.
These ideas and opinions are mine.
Formed by reason and experience
My true volition realized
In thought, deed and finally word.
My voice is a gift
That I must not bury
For that master returneth
And my result he will judge
How will my efforts honor him
How will my talents have procreated
To create more gifts for the kingdom
More glory for our Redeemer
I may not shout from the rooftops
But I will wisper in bars
I will chatter in friends' homes
And send my words near and far
Write them out with a pencil
Expecting words in return
Words of careful reflection
Constructive criticism to help me learn
That while my ideas are my own
I should not be so stingy to keep them
Locked up in my mind for protection
Or fear that someone will change them
I want to learn to love my words
As Christ loves the church
Not because of what they are made of
But because of who can change them
