why am i up at 2am?

a list. i have three cats. does that make me crazy cat person(s)? why we play game to shoot each other? why not go shoot each other with the paintball guns? play basketball? activities people! we're pastey designers (or project managers of said designers). we need sunlight, protein. hi amyjoy! boy, i hope you're reading this and i'm not some sort of crazy 2am type of cybercreep. it was good to meet you; face with a name and all that. you're good for daniel. mr. fox, i presume. we still can talk like before. girl and all. columbus is good even when slippery. comments. why do luke and i always end up with like one comment and the rest of the world is chattering away with each other? this isn't self-pity as much as curiosity. i lied. it's pity. but pity for luke too. we began to name our cats after poets. then we thought--that's crazy talk. you have to stick with "fuzz" or "mr. jingles." now we have to name the baby j. r. r. tolkien, just to keep with trends. but what if it's a girl? will anyone know the difference? j. r. r. is a pretty good girl name too. pringles is not. neither is floopsy. well.... little do they know, i'm not mogslopper. 1000 blank cards could be riotous. or torturous. or rigorous. please say it's not that. this is not stream of conciousness. this is being inexplicably up at 2am. how come bpritts hasn't bloged in months? is he dismembered? choked on pancake batter? drunk? if he wrote about his drunkenness, would we be more or less interested? is this some sort of a joke? my teeth feel all scummy. i can't believe i just wrote that and now will post it. but it's not being transparent. transparent is when there's some despicable part of you that can't possibly be concieved of as charming in any way and you lay it out there anyway without hope of winning brownie points from the observers but in as close to total humility as possible. and even then it's an act. i'm not cynical, i'm INTP. that means i can't help analyzing the $^!% out of @#!&. this is rapidly descending from a PG to a PG-13 blog. someone rescue me from my own inability to be rescued. i think big churches are good as long as you mean body of christ by the word church and not just building or large numbers of lights pointed at a stage. i think small churches are good as long as you mean body of christ and not a clique or a please make room for my enormous and sensitive ego group. ideally, we're a body and the arms aren't saying get a life to the legs and the legs aren't saying you're going to hell to the arms and the kneecaps aren't saying you don't have a patella so get lost to the elbows. don't even start with the fingerpointing cause the analogy just gets all muddled there. i'm going to regret posting this in the morning. i swear, this has everything to do with being tired and on the way to being a dad and nothing to do with LSD or conversing with members of the Bruderhoff. i'm eight, yes eight, years sans-dad this week and i still get all tearsy thinking about it. how can i parent when i had such a rotten one? yes, all things made new and all that...then why do i still fall into same traps for 20+ years? sin=not a christian? sin=stronghold unprayed for? sin=now but not yet? then why bad parenting model + good god = good parent? these things are way way too complex for 2am (pushing 3). i fear john's going to kill me tomorrow. or at least shame me by using my post against me. or tell jer to shame me. and my cats. i should hit delete now and eject this into the void like ripley jettisoned the alien out of the airlock in the first movie and then turned on the rockets but instead i know i'm going to hit post+publish and feel either completely foolish or grimly resolute tomorrow. i'm not good with this whole just laying it out there thing. yes, part of it is the introversion, but a good part is the fear of blatant emotional manipulation. remember that dad comment? there's a good bit of it i learned there--that someone can feign sincerity if it gets them what they want and so, born skeptic perhaps, i am suspicious that you are going to try to use your or my emotions to get something not quite pure from me. okay, that's something like transparency. ugh. good thing b never reads this tripe. she'd elbow me in the sore rib. man, once you've had a bit of elbow to the rib, you forget all about faintly pleasant 2 to 3am blog ramblings.