Little men inside the refrigerator

I used to think there were little men inside the refrigerator
whose only job it was to turn the light on and off as needed.
They would work day and night through the cold
so that I could see the milk sitting next to the butter.

They were shy little people, never ones to talk
they would stick to themselves and their friends the milk and the butter.
I thought that if I opened the door quick enough I would finally see them.
I never did.

I thought maybe they knew the guys who made the cereal and cookies
and that they would all get together during holidays and eat our leftovers.
The leftovers never disappeared while no one was looking,
however, my father would occasionally claim they did.

I imagine them sitting there next to the milk and the butter
in their fuzzy eskimo coats, their fingers kept warm by tiny little gloves,
sipping at an already opened juice box talking about the cans of diet soda
and planning their next disappearing act.

You can imagine my disappointment when I finally realized they didn’t exist--
that the light turns off and on like normal lights do.
And while playing with the refrigerator switch was fun for awhile,
the milk and the butter soon became lonely

there were no little refrigerator people to keep them company.
There were only little people on highways, in cubicles,
talking on the phone, eating in chinese restaurants, watching television,
laughing, playing, praying, loving and drinking coffee.

-Caleb Williams

On motivation and whatever

Rain.

Rain.

Rain.

Rain.

It's killing my desire to be productive. I'm the kind of person who likes to fall asleep listening to the splattering of rain on the window, so rain makes me want to avoid work. It's not so much that I want to go to sleep, far from it actually. I just don't want to work.

I began writing a paper the other day, a textbook review on St. John of Damascus' "Three Treatises on the Divine Images," but about a paragraph into the paper, I realized I don't know Turabian Style. They're making me use footnotes. That's a complete waste of space.

I read 100 pages of "Inerrancy" edited by Norman L. Geisler yesterday. Today, I've read about 30 so far. The book is a collection of essays, around 450 pages or so, on the topic of, gasp, biblical inerrancy. I was floating through the book really well until the 5th essay, where the author lost me about half of the way through. I got his main point, don't get me wrong, but about a third of the essay was gibberish. Not that it was drivel, I'm just not well-read enough to understand the complexities of the point the author was trying to make.



Don't wear house shoes in the rain, you'll just end up disappointed. And soggy.

My mind is scattered right now, that's why I'm writing. In case anyone was wondering.

We're having roast for dinner tonight and I have to say, I think a more effective means of "harsh interrogation" than water boarding would be forcing a hungry person to smell a roast cooking.

Two-hours and 22 minutes to go, make a wish.

-Caleb Williams

Fried Oreos and fall in Dallas

Rain, rain ... has finally gone away, for a day or two at least. The weather here is brilliant, I sat outside on campus for an hour today and read 50 pages out of a textbook and I feel good.

In case you can't tell, it is officially fall here in Dallas--day four to be exact--and I couldn't be happier. Don't get me wrong, I love summer, but there's only so much heat you can take before you boil away. I do have to say, I miss fall in Oklahoma, hopefully Dallas is far enough north to enjoy the season.

In Houston there is no fall, only seven or so days of moderate weather in December, then "cold" (not the good, bundle yourself in a jacket and scarf cold). There is no months-long gradation of green to auburn, you just wake up and things are a bizarre combination of grey and brown. Here's hoping fall in Dallas is closer to fall in Oklahoma.

In fall, a real, honest-to-goodness fall, coffee becomes even more a blessing. I am currently doing a study on the effects of coffee on the body at 5:40 in the morning, analysis so far: It helps considerably. And if the smell of coffee isn't enough to convince you of God's existence, it's effects should be.

Another gift of God: Deep-fried Oreos.



Don't knock it until you've tried it. The things are yet another wonderful concoction from the brilliant--and arterially clogged--people at the Texas State Fair. These same people proudly brought you deep-fried butter. Don't worry, I respect my body too much to even approach that counter.



That's all for now, time to read, then on to Intro to Theology at 1 p.m.

-Caleb Williams

The Ontological Argument

"[God is] that than which nothing greater can be conceived."
-Anslem of Canterbury (c. 1033-1109)

Interesting little argument. If God is that than which nothing greater can be conceived, God must logically exist if He can be conceived.

Not convinced?

If God doesn't exist that means the mind can conceive of something greater than God (for fun, we'll call it Zeus). Logically, the only quality Zeus contains that God doesn't is the attribute of existence. It stands to reason, therefore, that God exists.

-Caleb Williams