Bullets (and parentheses)

Hi.

How have you been, blogger?

Two months have passed since I last wrote you an entry. Well, not much has happened in between really so you didn't miss a lot. You can blame it to the ever brilliant minds of Google's developers, who seem to have left you to the oblivion that is "Website Only" mode. I feel bad for you, really. You have been such a resource for me ever since I started blogging before "blogging" was overused and became bastardized by these "bloggers" of the instagram era. It just goes to show how people these days have been used to instant gratification, mostly provided by pictures and moving pictures, that they simply won't have the energy to read words written in blank spaces because their attention spans are but a wee longer than that of a toddler. Gosh, it terrifies me to succumb to the fact that this world is truly headed for the worst, by which Biblically it is, - and social media seem to be hastening it.

Yet still I am one of the few who still tarry to read and write despite my personal critiques  are telling me I am not good in it anymore. The same personal critiques who tricked me to believing I was, at some point.

Anyway, I think I may be losing my finesse for typing in full sentences to express my thoughts - compounding that they are fragmented already. Dan said I may suffer from flight of ideas, an observation I would not contend as there may be some truth in his diagnosis. More so, I haven't been into much reading lately, despite the recent visitation of Big Bad Wolf booksale, of which I purchased Go Set A Watchman by Harper Lee and The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje (I literally had to verify his surname's spelling so as not to humiliate myself, but I guess I just did so on the process? Ehhh).

I just missed writing. Writing for my self. Writing to impress others, and that pang when you feel like you didnt achieve that purpose.

But to stay true to the title of this entry...Bullets.

On the course of 2 months,

• I learned to cook some dishes. Adobong Bisaya, pinakupsan as my mother would call it, is not so hard to do. Very easy for beginners like me who still need to remind themselves that onions and garlics aren't the same, and there is a certain maneuver to properly cut vegetables without cutting your finger while doing so. 
• God has been so extensively unbelievably patient in my sanctification. I am so overwhelmed by it. I cannot even fathom the greatness of his love. He is not just a sideline to me. He is my everything. 
• Theology.
• Waiting. More waiting. 
• Sanctification. More sanctification.
• Love. More love. 
• Grace. More grace.
• D-. This guy. This blessing. I do not deserve him. I'm afraid of whats to happen. But God. His sovereignty overules everything, and I find my comfort in that. 
• and more Waiting. . .

So, yes, that's about it for now. See you in another,what, 2 months?