I turned a quarter-century old nine days ago. That night, I began to collect some thoughts that I hoped to write down here for all to see. In typical fashion, however, that night's agenda blurred into the next day and then the next, and here I am playing catch-up. This is all incredibly ironic, because the thoughts my mind stirred up that night were of another infamous Scott Manifesto wherein I convince myself that a date on the calendar - in this case, my birthday - would somehow represent a dramatic shift in my ability to concentrate, strategize, and prioritize my way into a more productive life. And alas, my very inability to write this manifesto for the umpteenth time emphasizes the ridiculous nature of the argument given the inertia of life and its plot against me. And so here I sit on a Friday evening contemplating how in the world I want this life to play out. My Christian faith leads me to feel intermittently like the quarterback on the playing field waiting for a play to be called from the sidelines, and other times more like the ball laying inanimate in the center's grip waiting for the play to start. The spirit of the Enlightenment then enraptures my brain with thoughts that I am actually the coach and the quarterback and the ball, and in fact the opposing team simply represents my flesh's laziness and fear. In the meantime, the play clock is ticking down and I've no idea how to reach the end zone.

So what is all this about? My confession is that I am an overpromising slacker in need of some serious zeal. I feel within me such passion to create, to discuss, to lead in fields of faith, politics, music, film, and art. To sound quite full of myself, I feel a Da Vinci inside me - and what's more I feel within me the responsibility to have those around me realize that they too have a Da Vinci inside themselves. But the truth is that's it is much easier to wake up as late as possible to get to work on time and come home to watch reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond than to persue those passions. The typical villan in such a narrative is the American Way of Life. I believe that such scapegoating is simply a way for the modern individual to avoid the reality that the world is literally in their hands. The children's song speaks of God having "the whole world in his hands", and he does - but we are the gloves - or mittens, if you prefer - through which He touches it.

And so what do I do? How does one come to terms with the fact that nearly every vow he has made to himself has gone unfulfilled, every goal unachieved, every task yet to be crossed off? And how does that person maintain the passions that he feels defines him?

That's what this quarter-century old man wants to know.