This is perhaps the first truly public notice of my intentions to wed.
On Oct. 7 I will marry Kate, a wonderful, beautiful woman whose capacity to love baffles me. I am entirely convinced that having a woman you love who loves you back and meets your needs, is far more important than someone who meets some sort of idealistic, though fickle, muse. That is, she is more than I could have ever hoped for and still she is everything I need, including things I would have never thought of. I now deem happiness to be a long life of caring for her and sharing days, nights and thoughts with her.

Currently, my mind is only capable of two thoughts: finishing three videos for World Mission's triennial Synod presentation, and buying a house with Kate. This blog is an accident of a mild attack of insomnia.

As for literary endeavors, I have written more poems, including my first, sonnet (which I have been reluctant to write do to their popularity, which makes it difficult to avoid mediocrity). My novel is still a forty pager and has not moved since the month of March. I wrote a few things for minor poetry contests but was so busy that I missed the deadlines. I will try again soon.

Finally, a surprise to anyone who has known me for more than a year: I play soccer three times per week and practice an additional two. It is really amazing and makes me angry for not pursuing the sport while in Mexico. Ronaldinho is, in my estimation, the absolute goat. Though he will have to prove it this world cup, WHICH STARTS ON FRIDAY!!!!! Anyhow, I have a tough two weeks ahead. I need my sleep. Good night at 1:40 a.m. on a Monday morning (late Sunday evening extension).

For the first time ever, I am hobbling my way through life, as I nurse a severly sprained ancle. Holy crip it's a crapple!- you might say as you see me.
I was playing soccer with Luis and Ben last Tuesday night. I had scored a gooool and done some pretty good defending. My team lost the first game, but we started a second with determination. After defending an unsuccesful attempt on our goal I ran behind the goal line, where the field was uneven. There I took a single false step with my right foot and fell on my side to the beat of a snap and and a pop. I thought I had broken my foot for certain. The immediately sharp, hammering pain only confirmed it. Fear, it seems, did the rest. I began to roll around groaning...(alright, screaming like a little girl), until the rest of the group took notice and came over to try to help.

I sat up and immediately felt light-headed. Still, I started to attempt removal of shoes and shin guards, but was immediately told to stop. I did, of course, and then tried to get up. The pain got worse and I had to be practically carried off the field by Brian (a sturdy German guy who seemed to carry half of my nearly 200 lbs. with ease, and Ben, who himself weighs about half of my 200 lbs.) As it turns out, I was able to rest my foot, if only lightly, which indicated that it was not broken. I went to the nearest clinic and had X-rays to prove that while the sprain was serious, my whimpering was a bit over the edge.

Anyhow, this gave me a great excuse to read, and so I did: finishing the last 250 pgs of Vivir para contarla, by Gabo. I had been rationing it over the last few months, a practice that most of his books have brought out in me once I read the first half in no-time-flat. I simply hate finishing the books, they are amazing. Now I am reading his series on screen writing. It seems that short stories is the way to get started. I have yet to write one that comes off this new study, but I can sense that it is just around the corner.

Further, tomorrow I have an interview with a local attorney, who wants to start a Hispanic publication. A mutual contact gave him my information and told him that I would make a good publisher; imagine that. So, at 1:00 pm, I will see what he has in mind and decide if I want to get involved or not. I suppose I'll know in about 12 hrs. Which leads me to another point: more tomorrow;)