Irony... and just plain haggard stuff

This morning, I was a mess. Evidence of this is found in the fact that I woke up beside my buddy Clinto, who, upon waking up himself, declared, "Oh man... Matt, give me some not head-death."

I gave him some Advil. He was appreciative, but unsatisfied with the quickness of the relief. He demanded INSTANT GRATIFICATION!

Anyway, needless to say, last night consisted of a grand ol' time involving conversations with people I haven't spoken to in months or, in some cases, years. I also discovered the beauty of Iceberg gin. Those Newfoundlanders can really throw a good gin together.

But I digress. As I was saying, I was a mess. Right now, I feel much better (full of vigour and resolve?). I just arrived home from celebrating Mass, which was a very good thing - as it always is. And, today being Palm Sunday, I was audience to the traditional reading of The Passion.

The Passion is so incredibly moving... I am ashamed by this. I am ashamed because when I hear it told, I get chills and goosebumps and I sometimes even shed tears. But I so readily forget the meaning of it. I so readily harden my heart to it and allow myself to detach myself from the implications of the greatest series of events in history, and I fall into some very bad habits.

I've done a lot of things over the last few weeks that I would be a fool to repeat. It would be closing the door on the most complete and true love that I could ever know.

But I have done that before. And all the while I have been well within reach of the most perfect reason to refrain...