I'm a silly, silly boy.

I like fart jokes. I really do. I enjoy all things that have to do with farts, other than smelling other peoples. And as a bloke, there are a few other things that I like.

I like James Bond. Sean Connery is great, but Pierce Brosnan stole my heart (in that 'straight-as-an-arrow' sort of way.)
I like to see things get blown up.
I like it when the guy gets the girl.
I like to see other guys get smacked in the junk and fall over.
I like it when my friends get cool stuff, even if I'm jealous of it.
I also like it when someone tells me something cool about myself.

I do not, however, like me very much. I've come to this realization.

I find that the talents I have are a means to an end, which, ultimately, is glorify my Father in Heaven. When I love someone, I'm proud of it, yet I find it very hard to accept unconditionally love, because it is perplexing to me how someone can look at me and be ok with everything that I am. I'm afraid that it would be charity. If I saw me on the street, I woudn't think twice about me. I'd go on by, and tht scares me.

Maybe it's an odd paradox, but my life seems encompassed by one focus:

Whatever I do in life that is selfless, kind, moral or loving is something I love to do. When those same things are bestowed upon me, I freak out.

Why is it so difficult to accept the love and kindness of others, when it seems so fulfilling to give? I feel as though the acceptance of another's love (even God's), is a sign of failure and weakness in my mind. And that ladies and gentlemen, is the result of a beast we call pride.

If one cannot subdue the pride within him, one cannot feel the freedom the Creator has designed him for.

Pride comes before a fall, right? I've also found that if I don't truly learn from the fall, pride is what picks me back up...I suppose the pride can kill a man.