I have been feeling creative tonight. I guess I had to turn all my frustrations (which I am pretty sure were spawned from several recent events, most notably going to my highschool's homecoming and seeing loads of people I graduated with, none of which would so much as smile back, or say hello...slightly disheartening.) into something else. I drew several silly pictures, and have been playing several silly songs on the guitar, most notably my favorite Wrecker's songs...who ever would have thought that I would like girl country? Wierd.
My last entry was optimism drained. Today has been more on the side of optimism regained--or perspective put in place. Suffice it to say, that I feel better. No closer to any sort of understanding, but better. I guess at the end of the day, no matter how frustrated I am with everything, just the thought of life working out makes me smile. Love stays with me.
I am trying to decide what I am going to teach on tomorrow morning for Sunday School to my highschoolers. Im thinking John 2. Water into Wine. Water symbolising life, of course, and wine symbolising joy. Turning life into joy. That sounds like a good topic to me. Heavily expounded upon with several other points, and tangents so as to fit the alloted half hour time frame, of course. I actually like that Im the only teacher in there now. Not because of ego issues or anything, the opposite in fact. I dont feel like Im going to say something stupid, I mean, I will say something stupid, but there isnt a basis of comparison, you know? Smart teacher, stupid teacher sort of thing. I dont know what I'm talking about.
There is a definite lack of profoundness here, or anything really. I didnt want to write in this blog just to write, I have enough fillers in my other blogs. I just dont feel like I have the energy to convey any real thoughts tonight. It does take something out of me.
Oh. One more thing.
I drove around Springfield the other night. I had a mix that I made in Atlanta for driving around there at night, like I used to do when I was upset or just needed some space, or to feel like I was a part of something bigger--a group of thousands of people driving around in their cars listening to The Verve and Bright Eyes and Brand New and feeling sort of desperately melancholy and disenchanted perhaps--but I digress. I was driving around Springfield, listening to the music that reminded me of Atlanta, and this whole flood, this wall of memories just flashed past, everything that happened there, everything about my life and my thoughts and everything--technicolor spinning in my mind.
I am really lonely here. I dont have any friends around. None. Zero. I miss my life and my independance at ABC terribly. I miss Northside Drive and Peachtree NE, and Fellini's and Centennial Olympic Park, I miss Josh getting hit with Jaymin's car, and watching people beat up helpless appliances, I miss my apartment, and watching movies with everyone, I miss Tommy Lee even though he wasnt our pet, I miss the Wall of Dale, and Michael--who is still trapped behind the stove, and I miss Jasmine and Macy visiting our rooms and eating the little yellow pellets from the pellet gun, I miss dancing like Janet Jackson and the Freak Hawk, I miss going to get milkshakes and grocery shopping with Kyle, I miss Dustin in those hideous pink slippers, and JJ playing guitar and cookouts at The Cheat's or just hanging out in his office, I miss and the Surly Man, I miss Ugly Frank and walks over at Clayton, I miss the Masquerade and the Tribesman. I miss Atlanta at night, with the lights and the cars--that--indescribable feeling you get when you're there.
I guess, maybe, what I miss the most, besides all my friends, is that in Atlanta, I didnt feel like a loser--I had my own apartment just outside of a place I love, and I had my own job that I really enjoyed working at--I had people that believed the same things as me, and were a constant source of love and support around me all the time (especially my first year there). I didnt feel stupid, or not good enough. I feel like that here. I feel like I'm failing, like Im not going anywhere--and that everyone here cares about that--but not about me.
I love my family. I do. But it is so hard for me to be here without anyone else.
Way to end on a happy note, eh?
Kyle will be here in January, around the same time I start at Cedarville. That will make things better. I'll be fine until then.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Optimism Drained.
It so hard when you have so many words to say, they bubble and turn in your stomach and almost make you sick, but you can't--you wont say them, because it costs too much. It is easier to stay sick and sad and lonely and never risk anything because you are afraid that the risk will turn out worse.
John Greenleaf Whittier wrote something to the effect: "Of all the words of tongue and of pen, the saddest are these: it might have been"
But if you dont say those words, they will poison you.
And because of that, I think I might be metaphorically dying.
Why, why is it so hard! Why cant I just be good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, confident enough---why can't I ever just say what I mean---what I feel, and be happy? Ugh! I get so damn frustrated with it, with my self doubt, with my fear, with everything.
So, what do you do?
Nothing. You play Room Service or say something completely bizzarre, and secretely hate yourself for it.
Or maybe thats just what I do.
Sometimes, maybe, things just arent meant to work out. Sometimes, the good guy dies. Maybe these thoughts I've been having should too. Im just tired.
Im going to write a letter. In this letter Im going to put all my feelings, and plans, and all this crap that Im dealing with now. Im going to put this letter in a box and bury it. If one day, things should work out, then it can be dug up--but if not--it stays burried.
Geesh. I need to get a hobby or something.
John Greenleaf Whittier wrote something to the effect: "Of all the words of tongue and of pen, the saddest are these: it might have been"
But if you dont say those words, they will poison you.
And because of that, I think I might be metaphorically dying.
Why, why is it so hard! Why cant I just be good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, confident enough---why can't I ever just say what I mean---what I feel, and be happy? Ugh! I get so damn frustrated with it, with my self doubt, with my fear, with everything.
So, what do you do?
Nothing. You play Room Service or say something completely bizzarre, and secretely hate yourself for it.
Or maybe thats just what I do.
Sometimes, maybe, things just arent meant to work out. Sometimes, the good guy dies. Maybe these thoughts I've been having should too. Im just tired.
Im going to write a letter. In this letter Im going to put all my feelings, and plans, and all this crap that Im dealing with now. Im going to put this letter in a box and bury it. If one day, things should work out, then it can be dug up--but if not--it stays burried.
Geesh. I need to get a hobby or something.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
I Am Hopeful Full Of Doubt
This entry is scattered and makes no sense, but thats only because I am still working through all my thoughts...hopefully some of them will be adequately conveyed.
First, A Poem:
After Parting
Oh, I have sown my love so wide
That he will find it everywhere;
It will awake him in the night,
It will enfold him in the air.
I set my shadow in his sight
And I have winged it with desire,
That it may be a cloud by day,
And in the night a shaft of fire.
--Sarah Teasdale
She is my favorite poet. I highly recommend "I am not Yours" and "It is not a word" and just about anything else she has written...they are all amazing.
Cut to an interior view:
Patience. Wait. Patience. Patience. Wait. Patience. Wait. Wait. Wait.
Its so very difficult.
I was thinking earlier about everything (which means the one thing *cough cough*, that I always think about) and one underlying truth became apparent--you know, things you know but you never really realize that you know them, until something really obvious hits you in the face and it all makes sense? Well, it really hit me: God made love. He is the source of love. Whatever I feel that is loving and caring and selfless comes from Him. It is because of God that I am able to feel that.
God also created him (who shall remain nameless, simply because I have an idea who he is, but I could be wrong...I dont think so, but I might.), every part of him, everything that I adore (good word Jaymin) about him. God loves him more than I ever could.
To me, this has huge implications about how I think about him, about how I think about everyone for that matter.
The girls in our youth group like to do what all girls in the 13-16 age bracket like to do: talk about how hot (or not) the guys at their school, or at FUEL, or anywhere really, are. Its always been something that bothers me. It just seems to really cheapen someone. It feels like its just slapping an "I would do you" lable on them and negating the rest of their humanity, the fact that they feel, and think, and are loved terribly by God.
So we're working on not talking about guys that way. If we had boys (other than Eric) in our youth group it would be the same for them.
Another reason why this is so important to me, is because like Josh Harris says in I Kissed Dating Goodbye, you should treat everyone of the opposite gender as brothers or sisters in Christ, not only because God loves them, but because you most likely arent going to marry them. They belong to someone else. They are someone else's future husband or wife. If you dont treat them with that kind of respect, then you not only hurt them (yourself), you hurt the person they (you) will eventually marry as well.
I just think that one has to be careful. I try to remind myself this constantly. I wouldnt want anyone acting inappropriately towards my future husband, I love him too much already, and I would probably have to draw blood if I found out about it. No, just kidding, thats where forgiveness comes in, but I wouldnt be happy about it.
Patience. Wait. God makes everything beautiful in its time, right? Its just that sometimes I wish His time would be at 7:00pm this evening.
First, A Poem:
After Parting
Oh, I have sown my love so wide
That he will find it everywhere;
It will awake him in the night,
It will enfold him in the air.
I set my shadow in his sight
And I have winged it with desire,
That it may be a cloud by day,
And in the night a shaft of fire.
--Sarah Teasdale
She is my favorite poet. I highly recommend "I am not Yours" and "It is not a word" and just about anything else she has written...they are all amazing.
Cut to an interior view:
Patience. Wait. Patience. Patience. Wait. Patience. Wait. Wait. Wait.
Its so very difficult.
I was thinking earlier about everything (which means the one thing *cough cough*, that I always think about) and one underlying truth became apparent--you know, things you know but you never really realize that you know them, until something really obvious hits you in the face and it all makes sense? Well, it really hit me: God made love. He is the source of love. Whatever I feel that is loving and caring and selfless comes from Him. It is because of God that I am able to feel that.
God also created him (who shall remain nameless, simply because I have an idea who he is, but I could be wrong...I dont think so, but I might.), every part of him, everything that I adore (good word Jaymin) about him. God loves him more than I ever could.
To me, this has huge implications about how I think about him, about how I think about everyone for that matter.
The girls in our youth group like to do what all girls in the 13-16 age bracket like to do: talk about how hot (or not) the guys at their school, or at FUEL, or anywhere really, are. Its always been something that bothers me. It just seems to really cheapen someone. It feels like its just slapping an "I would do you" lable on them and negating the rest of their humanity, the fact that they feel, and think, and are loved terribly by God.
So we're working on not talking about guys that way. If we had boys (other than Eric) in our youth group it would be the same for them.
Another reason why this is so important to me, is because like Josh Harris says in I Kissed Dating Goodbye, you should treat everyone of the opposite gender as brothers or sisters in Christ, not only because God loves them, but because you most likely arent going to marry them. They belong to someone else. They are someone else's future husband or wife. If you dont treat them with that kind of respect, then you not only hurt them (yourself), you hurt the person they (you) will eventually marry as well.
I just think that one has to be careful. I try to remind myself this constantly. I wouldnt want anyone acting inappropriately towards my future husband, I love him too much already, and I would probably have to draw blood if I found out about it. No, just kidding, thats where forgiveness comes in, but I wouldnt be happy about it.
Patience. Wait. God makes everything beautiful in its time, right? Its just that sometimes I wish His time would be at 7:00pm this evening.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Stolen Thoughts--like all the thoughts.
Favorite Things This Instant:
If a person embraces who they are made to be, their fate, their destiny, whathaveyou, then they wont have to be told how to act appropriately, what to do and what not to do. It will come naturally. Hm.
Who are you made to be? Who am I made to be? Who are we all made to be?
God, made us all in His image. We are like Him. We share basic similarities. We are not God, but we have some sort of resemblance to Him. We all have the life, the spirit that He breathed into us. Rob Bell talks about how there is this person that God has created us to be, this destiny if you will, that he has made us to fulfill. He says that anything we do apart from that is sin. He says that God has an incredibly high view of His people, noting that we are refered to as righteous, and holy--that now that we have wrestled with the idea of believing in God, its time to wrestle with the idea that God believes in us. That He loves us just as we are. Right. Now. Like I am. Like You Are. Nothing I have done will change that. Nothing I will do can change that. The question is not whether or not God loves us, but whether or not we accept His love, and chose to love Him in return.
I dont know who I am supposed to be yet. I think its a process. Here's what I do know about myself:
- Keychain Kyle
- Ridiculous phone conversations about the same three topics
- Velvet Elvis, by Rob Bell
- Toph
- Eco-Christianity being on the Rise (ABC is going Green!)
- Hermiander and Pigwidgeon, my fish, NOT being dead.
If a person embraces who they are made to be, their fate, their destiny, whathaveyou, then they wont have to be told how to act appropriately, what to do and what not to do. It will come naturally. Hm.
Who are you made to be? Who am I made to be? Who are we all made to be?
God, made us all in His image. We are like Him. We share basic similarities. We are not God, but we have some sort of resemblance to Him. We all have the life, the spirit that He breathed into us. Rob Bell talks about how there is this person that God has created us to be, this destiny if you will, that he has made us to fulfill. He says that anything we do apart from that is sin. He says that God has an incredibly high view of His people, noting that we are refered to as righteous, and holy--that now that we have wrestled with the idea of believing in God, its time to wrestle with the idea that God believes in us. That He loves us just as we are. Right. Now. Like I am. Like You Are. Nothing I have done will change that. Nothing I will do can change that. The question is not whether or not God loves us, but whether or not we accept His love, and chose to love Him in return.
I dont know who I am supposed to be yet. I think its a process. Here's what I do know about myself:
- I know that most of the decisions I make on my own are awful and ruin everything despite my best intentions. Consequently I know that things will work out in the end, and that God takes care of the things that I waste so much time worrying about.
- I know that I love my friends and would do anything for them if they needed, and just because most of them live more than two states away and none of them live within almost an hour from me doesnt mean that I'm alone.
- I know that when I love someone, I love them with everything, and that that love never really leaves.
- I know that when I am married, I will be the best nymphomaniac wife ever, second only perhaps to Jaymin.
- I know that life is in the little things, and not the big events. Its in spaghetti fights, and movie nights, and phone calls, and running like squirrels and letters and road trips.
- I know that I dont know much, and thats a good place to start.
I also know that I like lists. Yay!
As an aside, no Hermiander and Pigwidgeon are not dead, I know you were just as worried as I was about me forgetting to feed them both for the last several days, but they are fine. Thin...but fine. So, yes. No need to worry. I was in a bit of a panic there for a second.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Non e possibile per me cosi.
"The levity of longing that distills each dream inside my head by morning watered down forget on silver stars I wish and wish and wish."--Conor Oberst
Its night time that gets me. Maybe because its dark and quiet, save for the sound of air running from the AC vents. Its when I feel like everything is so much to handle, and start wondering what the point is, and I just feel so low...
Thats another reason why my best work is created at 3am. The sad (literally) truth is that art generally isnt made when one feels happy. Why? Because you dont feel like making it. You are content with your life, and love the people around you when you are happy. But when you are sad, then the art you make, makes you feel like you are connected with something. That you are not alone in how you feel at that moment, that you are sharing in an experience that so many other great artists have had in their lifetimes. It makes you feel less alone.
Maybe Im just melodramatic and sentimental, but for me, art isnt about colors and canvas, its about feeling empathy. Understanding. That as much as I dont understand most people, and as hard as it is for me to relate to almost everyone I know, and as far as my friends are away from me, that for that hour, that instant, I know that there are other people who have lived and are living that have felt just the same way I did, right then.
But back to night.
The bad thing about 3am's is that for most of them, I havent done anything other than check my myspace and facebook 53 times each, and have watched seasons 1 and 2 of Family Guy. That I have this feeling of unproductiveness, of wasted time. I have a guilt for not being creative, not have actually finished just one of the couple dozen paintings I've started, not managed to finish the inkwash of Josh and Jenny's wedding, not drawn anything in my sketchbook in the last 2 weeks...and then it gets bigger than that. Then it seeps into the rest of my life. All the things I should have done and been by now, that I havent done or become.
Enter SuperNikky. She is too good for CrappyNikky to live up to. The previous entry should make more sense now. Remember I was still under the influence (of nyquil) when I wrote it.
I keep thinking about something that happened earlier today. It made me happier than getting into Cedarville, if thats possible. This really worries me--that it made me so happy that is. Its again with the getting attached to things that dont exist. I keep praying that God will take away these feelings if they're not from Him, but it doesnt seem to be working, and Im not sure if I just dont want it to work, or if Im supposed to feel like I do. I know Im being rather cryptic. I apologize, but its hard for me to write specifics. I work best with generalizations. (Jaymin, I will probably either email you or call and tell you about it.)
Anyways.
All that said, I think its time to start up season 3 of Family Guy and try to get some sleep.
Its night time that gets me. Maybe because its dark and quiet, save for the sound of air running from the AC vents. Its when I feel like everything is so much to handle, and start wondering what the point is, and I just feel so low...
Thats another reason why my best work is created at 3am. The sad (literally) truth is that art generally isnt made when one feels happy. Why? Because you dont feel like making it. You are content with your life, and love the people around you when you are happy. But when you are sad, then the art you make, makes you feel like you are connected with something. That you are not alone in how you feel at that moment, that you are sharing in an experience that so many other great artists have had in their lifetimes. It makes you feel less alone.
Maybe Im just melodramatic and sentimental, but for me, art isnt about colors and canvas, its about feeling empathy. Understanding. That as much as I dont understand most people, and as hard as it is for me to relate to almost everyone I know, and as far as my friends are away from me, that for that hour, that instant, I know that there are other people who have lived and are living that have felt just the same way I did, right then.
But back to night.
The bad thing about 3am's is that for most of them, I havent done anything other than check my myspace and facebook 53 times each, and have watched seasons 1 and 2 of Family Guy. That I have this feeling of unproductiveness, of wasted time. I have a guilt for not being creative, not have actually finished just one of the couple dozen paintings I've started, not managed to finish the inkwash of Josh and Jenny's wedding, not drawn anything in my sketchbook in the last 2 weeks...and then it gets bigger than that. Then it seeps into the rest of my life. All the things I should have done and been by now, that I havent done or become.
Enter SuperNikky. She is too good for CrappyNikky to live up to. The previous entry should make more sense now. Remember I was still under the influence (of nyquil) when I wrote it.
I keep thinking about something that happened earlier today. It made me happier than getting into Cedarville, if thats possible. This really worries me--that it made me so happy that is. Its again with the getting attached to things that dont exist. I keep praying that God will take away these feelings if they're not from Him, but it doesnt seem to be working, and Im not sure if I just dont want it to work, or if Im supposed to feel like I do. I know Im being rather cryptic. I apologize, but its hard for me to write specifics. I work best with generalizations. (Jaymin, I will probably either email you or call and tell you about it.)
Anyways.
All that said, I think its time to start up season 3 of Family Guy and try to get some sleep.
SuperNikky faces certain DOOM!
Yesterday night, I did something I havent done in a very very long time...Im not proud of it either.
...I took Nyquil. I drank about half a cup of nyquil around 9 last night, and consequently woke up just a few minutes ago today. I felt awful though. I still feel the wierd lingering effects of the Nyquil, and my head still hurts, but Im slightly better, aside from getting very dizzy every time I stand up.
I took the Nyquil, not to refuel my past Nyquil addiction, but because I felt genuinely sick last night, fever and all. I havent been that kind of sick in a while, and when I am sick I dont take anything for it, except maybe a glass of water and enough vitamin C to more than fill the reccomended daily percentage for the state of California. That wasnt working though.
Hence the delving into the OTC medicine. Im so ashamed. Ok, not too ashamed, but still. I dont like taking that sort of stuff anymore.
To kind of switch subjects (I'm good at doing that...mahahaher...) I was reading some more of Velvet Elvis yesterday during church (I know Im an awful sinner...this will come out later) and the part I was reading was about guilt and shame--and how we carry around this image of what we are supposed to do and how we are supposed to act and who we should be. How we carry around all the expectations from what other people want us to be, that we have tremendous guilt and shame because we arent living up that. We have this person that God has created us to be, but its become distorted and is full of all these other...people. We have this image of superwhatever built up in our heads, and its killing us because we cant live up to it.
So I have to kill SuperNikky. I have to take her outback, and end her pathctic existance.
This could take awhile.
...I took Nyquil. I drank about half a cup of nyquil around 9 last night, and consequently woke up just a few minutes ago today. I felt awful though. I still feel the wierd lingering effects of the Nyquil, and my head still hurts, but Im slightly better, aside from getting very dizzy every time I stand up.
I took the Nyquil, not to refuel my past Nyquil addiction, but because I felt genuinely sick last night, fever and all. I havent been that kind of sick in a while, and when I am sick I dont take anything for it, except maybe a glass of water and enough vitamin C to more than fill the reccomended daily percentage for the state of California. That wasnt working though.
Hence the delving into the OTC medicine. Im so ashamed. Ok, not too ashamed, but still. I dont like taking that sort of stuff anymore.
To kind of switch subjects (I'm good at doing that...mahahaher...) I was reading some more of Velvet Elvis yesterday during church (I know Im an awful sinner...this will come out later) and the part I was reading was about guilt and shame--and how we carry around this image of what we are supposed to do and how we are supposed to act and who we should be. How we carry around all the expectations from what other people want us to be, that we have tremendous guilt and shame because we arent living up that. We have this person that God has created us to be, but its become distorted and is full of all these other...people. We have this image of superwhatever built up in our heads, and its killing us because we cant live up to it.
So I have to kill SuperNikky. I have to take her outback, and end her pathctic existance.
This could take awhile.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Last night I had the strangest dream.
It really bothered me. It was awful.
But as bizzarre and messed up as it was I think it illustrated something to me. Sometimes you have let go of something that makes you happy because it might be killing you. (with sandwhich bags, no less.)
There are somethings in my life that I really enjoy. A good example of this is planning my future wedding (in detail) and naming my future children, and generally attaching myself to things that dont exist yet. Thats not a good thing to do. For instance--if you didnt have a car, and someone gave you mercedes, you would be ecstatic right? Yeah...unless it was black, and you had planned on silver...or you wanted leather seats instead of cloth...or you had a Ferrari in mind. You see?
I know whatever happens I will love my life, and things will be great, but I dont want to taint that by falling in love with the details that might not work out. I dont know if I'm making any sense anymore. But maybe I should try to appreciate today. Right now. Just as it is.
But as bizzarre and messed up as it was I think it illustrated something to me. Sometimes you have let go of something that makes you happy because it might be killing you. (with sandwhich bags, no less.)
There are somethings in my life that I really enjoy. A good example of this is planning my future wedding (in detail) and naming my future children, and generally attaching myself to things that dont exist yet. Thats not a good thing to do. For instance--if you didnt have a car, and someone gave you mercedes, you would be ecstatic right? Yeah...unless it was black, and you had planned on silver...or you wanted leather seats instead of cloth...or you had a Ferrari in mind. You see?
I know whatever happens I will love my life, and things will be great, but I dont want to taint that by falling in love with the details that might not work out. I dont know if I'm making any sense anymore. But maybe I should try to appreciate today. Right now. Just as it is.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Black Ink on Yellow Paper
Favorite Things As of This Moment (Idea taken from you, Jaymin because I assume that you are the only person reading this...mahahaher...)
- The printout over the desk in the extra Church office that says: "YOU ARE LOVED! THERE IS HOPE!"
- Honey Wheat Bread...well...what it stands for at least.
- Boy Meets Girl, by Joshua Harris
- Cotton Candy Icecream
- Mystery Science Theater 3000, as pathetic as it is.
Last night FUSION was used as practice for our upcoming Family Nite Live productions. Its a cute idea, and whenever you see the promo videos that KidStuf puts on it looks amazing, but I still have some reservations. Mostly because we are a small church that tries to do big church things and bring people in that way, but all that seems to be happening is that we use our same small group of leaders for almost everything and the only people that come to our programs are the people that already go to North Hills, and not even all of them come. Programs just arent really working, and when they do work, they dont pull people in who have never been to church (which I think is the real point), we get people from other churches that werent happy there (and wont be happy here after a few months). I dont know, maybe Im being too critical, but everytime I think about going to church now I get this sinking feeling in my stomach that something isnt right. That something big is missing.
Oh well. Onto other things.
I read Josh Harris' Boy Meets Girl the other day, and in the very begining of it he tells a story about Adam and Eve. He tells it from several years after their getting kicked out of the garden, and they have kids and grandkids and great grand kids and great great super mega ultra fantastic grandkids and so on. In it Adam is walking with one those grandkids--called Elanna, and she is asking about the first time he met Eve, and how it felt, and so on--lots of questions. Here's what Adam says to her and some of the dialogue from that point:
"You ask these questions because you yourself long to meet your soul's match. Dont pretend I dont know you, child. You have [Eve's] eyes. They looked just like yours do now whend she was longing for the Garden. But you miss someone you've never met [or that you have met and are just waiting...hint hint]. You want to run through time and glimpse that first meeting. You want to know how you'll know him. But you need not fret.
"But it doesnt seem fair to me," Elanna said, the words born of frustration tumbling out. "It was so easy for you. The Maker brought Grandmother to you. She was the only woman for you. She was the only woman!"..."But here, now, its so different--so confusing."
"Its not more confusing," he said gently. "it only seems that way. Our meating was 'easy' as you put it, not because we were the only humankind, but because in those sweet days before we disobeyed, we implicitly trusted the Maker to bring what was good."
Yeah, its kind of cheesey or whatever, but I really liked its point. Its not that things are any harder now, but we make them harder. Its not that God doesnt have something good planned, its that we are too impatient to let him bring what is good. Its like what Julie said at FUEL, sometimes the best answer is "wait." But its also the hardest. You are loved! There is hope! I like it. It frees me up from worrying about it and half wishing that there were still arranged marriages (I guess in a sense, there are). So now I can focus on really big issues, like whether to watch Colossus Versus the Headhunters, or Squirm on MST3k. Yeah.
Dont laugh. Thats a serious dillema.
I would like a tarp coated with crushed wheat, a gallon of honey, and a razor.
:)
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Lights Will Guide You Home
I think the biggest way that God speaks to me is through books and reading. Maybe its just the act of reading my feelings written by someone else that makes me feel connected to something bigger. It makes me feel less alone. And I have become very alone here. So I've become an insatiable reader...heck, Im even reading FF Bruce's "Paul, an apostle of the heart set free" which sounds like it would be cool and interesting, but no. Its very boring and filled with things I will never remember, dates of battles, and succesions of kings, but its just to be reading something.
Coming back from Yellow Springs the other day, I took a route that I dont normally take coming home--mostly because it takes about twice as long and goes through the poorest most run down neighborhood in Springfield. Its all cracked pavement and rusted cars and bars on windows. There is always someone dressed in the gray dirt and grease of poverty with shifty imporing eyes. Its not far from where I grew up. And sometimes, I recognize the people from volunteering at Rainbow Table. One of the kids there, I guess he's about 18 or so, asked me where I went to school. He remembered me from Middle School.
It disturbs me. Because I am them. I am no better than them, they no better than me, we have the same God given breath of life in us both--but somehow I got lucky.
It bothers me most because I am too afraid to do anything about their situation--as if anything could be done. Let me rephrase that--I am too afraid to get to know them, to love them because it will bring them too close, and I will see how poor I am in comparison. How my pride is cutting me off from God's charity, while I think I am just supposed to give it out because I wear clothes from Buckle and own designer makeup.
I think too often we look at the poor as a problem, instead of people, reducing thier humanity to charity, and when we do that we fail to see our own desperate need for charity. It is easier on our pride to write a check and walk off with warm fuzzies than to love and care for another one of God's creatures.
I've been reading You Shall Know Our Velocity! again, and the main point of it is that the main character came into alot of money, that he didnt feel he deserved. He wants to cheat time and movement by going around the entire world in a week handing out money to people, a lot of money--a life changing amount in most of the countries he and his friend who goes with him visit. An underlying theme in it though, he that he feels cheap. He feels ashamed of giving out this money when he actually does it. He spends a lot of time trying to justify his actions, but always comes back to the conclusion that he is a coward handing out only false hope because he is not brave enough to share any life with them. He dreams about doing it--about walking into their homes and loving them and milking cows and making dinner and sharing in what is really life--but he cant. He is too afraid. So he keeps handing out money and running away from widows because he doesnt want to look in their faces, or have them tell him thank you.
I am a bigger coward than he is. He is at least wresting with this idea, trying to overcome it--I only wrestle with not thinking about it. Im imposing indifference on myself, and I think that is the worst thing there is. I think maybe thats part of what Paul might have been talking about when he is talking about sin, and says that he is the worst of all the sinners. I thikn it might have been because he didnt care about the evil and injustice of the world around him for so long. He watched it, and approved it. He had his own self covered with the law, being a jew among jews, a pharisee, but that he didnt give a damn about anyone else. Its that he was so selfish for so long, and that is the worst sin we can commit. It is also the most common because every evil thing just about can be traced back to "Me".
We need God's charity most of all.
Coming back from Yellow Springs the other day, I took a route that I dont normally take coming home--mostly because it takes about twice as long and goes through the poorest most run down neighborhood in Springfield. Its all cracked pavement and rusted cars and bars on windows. There is always someone dressed in the gray dirt and grease of poverty with shifty imporing eyes. Its not far from where I grew up. And sometimes, I recognize the people from volunteering at Rainbow Table. One of the kids there, I guess he's about 18 or so, asked me where I went to school. He remembered me from Middle School.
It disturbs me. Because I am them. I am no better than them, they no better than me, we have the same God given breath of life in us both--but somehow I got lucky.
It bothers me most because I am too afraid to do anything about their situation--as if anything could be done. Let me rephrase that--I am too afraid to get to know them, to love them because it will bring them too close, and I will see how poor I am in comparison. How my pride is cutting me off from God's charity, while I think I am just supposed to give it out because I wear clothes from Buckle and own designer makeup.
I think too often we look at the poor as a problem, instead of people, reducing thier humanity to charity, and when we do that we fail to see our own desperate need for charity. It is easier on our pride to write a check and walk off with warm fuzzies than to love and care for another one of God's creatures.
I've been reading You Shall Know Our Velocity! again, and the main point of it is that the main character came into alot of money, that he didnt feel he deserved. He wants to cheat time and movement by going around the entire world in a week handing out money to people, a lot of money--a life changing amount in most of the countries he and his friend who goes with him visit. An underlying theme in it though, he that he feels cheap. He feels ashamed of giving out this money when he actually does it. He spends a lot of time trying to justify his actions, but always comes back to the conclusion that he is a coward handing out only false hope because he is not brave enough to share any life with them. He dreams about doing it--about walking into their homes and loving them and milking cows and making dinner and sharing in what is really life--but he cant. He is too afraid. So he keeps handing out money and running away from widows because he doesnt want to look in their faces, or have them tell him thank you.
I am a bigger coward than he is. He is at least wresting with this idea, trying to overcome it--I only wrestle with not thinking about it. Im imposing indifference on myself, and I think that is the worst thing there is. I think maybe thats part of what Paul might have been talking about when he is talking about sin, and says that he is the worst of all the sinners. I thikn it might have been because he didnt care about the evil and injustice of the world around him for so long. He watched it, and approved it. He had his own self covered with the law, being a jew among jews, a pharisee, but that he didnt give a damn about anyone else. Its that he was so selfish for so long, and that is the worst sin we can commit. It is also the most common because every evil thing just about can be traced back to "Me".
We need God's charity most of all.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Evening at the beach.
Rain feel lazily, as if uncertain it wanted to leave the sky. The air was thick and tangible, the wooden stairs warm and worn. Her feet moved with the fluid flawlessness of repetition. In her mind a thousand scenarios played over and again, each one hitting her vividly, forcefully. Three more steps and then it was sand, smooth and sinking and sticking to her wet feet. A hundred feet ahead the waves—gray, white, angry—consumed the shore. The sky was on fire now, blood and flame and smoke.
She’d reached the edge of the water, arctic on her skin. Two steps and she fell to her knees throwing off her jacket and starting out for the halved tangerine sun. Seaweed wrapped around her thighs and throat as she swam farther, against the striking salt tides. Four hundred feet from shore, her heart beat fast and sharp. She heard his voice from the beach behind her; held her breath and disappeared.
She’d reached the edge of the water, arctic on her skin. Two steps and she fell to her knees throwing off her jacket and starting out for the halved tangerine sun. Seaweed wrapped around her thighs and throat as she swam farther, against the striking salt tides. Four hundred feet from shore, her heart beat fast and sharp. She heard his voice from the beach behind her; held her breath and disappeared.
Monday, September 10, 2007
The only sanctuary is the bathroom: a brief non-fictitious work of fiction.
Chocolate chip saline fell through her fingers while she covered her face. It was silly, she told herself, he doesn’t love me, he doesn’t care. She was nothing special, she thought. Gray rivers streaked her cheeks as she stared steadily in the mirror. It was always like this, she thought. She could only keep the fleeting feeling of contentment so long. I want to be more, different, to change, to demolish myself if I have to, start again—to be good enough for him, she thought…and I hate this. I am a chameleon, a charade, I do not exist, I am not real, I am always someone else, she whispered to her reflection. He can’t love me, because he doesn’t know me, and he wouldnt if he did, she thought.
She fixed her face and took deep breaths until unhappiness’ red residue left her face and eyes. Everything will be ok, she thought, everything will work out…it has to. She smiled at herself in the mirror, was disgusted by the flawlessness of its fabrication, smoothed her hair and skirt and then walked back upstairs, smiling and saying “hello” to everyone she knew.
She heard him laughing as he walked up behind her and lightly hit her on the shoulder. As she turned around he asked where she had been and where they were going to go for lunch. She smiled and said she didn’t care, that anywhere was fine, fantastic. He picked her least favorite restaurant, but it didn’t matter, she laughed and agreed—sounds good, she said. Nothing will change, she thought. He smiled and grabbed his keys, winding through small crowd near the door, leading their way to the parking lot. It was a beautiful day, she thought, warm and blue and perfect for destroying yourself.
She fixed her face and took deep breaths until unhappiness’ red residue left her face and eyes. Everything will be ok, she thought, everything will work out…it has to. She smiled at herself in the mirror, was disgusted by the flawlessness of its fabrication, smoothed her hair and skirt and then walked back upstairs, smiling and saying “hello” to everyone she knew.
She heard him laughing as he walked up behind her and lightly hit her on the shoulder. As she turned around he asked where she had been and where they were going to go for lunch. She smiled and said she didn’t care, that anywhere was fine, fantastic. He picked her least favorite restaurant, but it didn’t matter, she laughed and agreed—sounds good, she said. Nothing will change, she thought. He smiled and grabbed his keys, winding through small crowd near the door, leading their way to the parking lot. It was a beautiful day, she thought, warm and blue and perfect for destroying yourself.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Love Me Like The World Is Ending
This is my reoccurring theme. Mostly because it bothers me and I don’t have any real answers to anything about it.
What do you think of when you think of “love”?
…just a question.
I don’t get people in relationships. I don’t get relationships when I’m in them. So, unfortunately and too bad for me, I don’t often get in them.
It all seems so easy…but its not. It’s hard. It’s frustrating before you’re in a relationship because of the uncertainty and awkwardness, and once you are in them because of the selfishness imposed upon them. And that selfishness isn’t even just dating relationships, friendships as well. It seems like more often than not, with loving someone, it’s really only about what we can get out of that other person. Its always that they will make me feel whole, they will make me happy, they will make me less lonely, they will buy me dinner or take me to a movie, or they will do some never-ending list of tasks for me. They will take care of me. Me. It’s relationship masturbation.
Oscar Wilde: “Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and Domine, non sum dignus, should be on the lips and in the hearts of those receiving it.”
I don’t want to spend my whole life worrying about me. I don’t find myself interesting enough for that. I want to think and care about someone else. I want that someone else to worry about me. It doesn’t work if someone loves you as much as you love you. Self-esteem and worth are important (if you don’t feel worthy of love, how can you give or receive it?), but self-obsession has been robbing so many people of knowing real love.
Conor Oberst: “You think about yourself too much and you ruin who you love.”
It always takes something really awful for someone to appreciate what they have, or worst-case scenario, had. It does for me, at least, but I’m also fairly certain that I have some deep-rooted subconscious masochistic tendencies. But what if we actually appreciated people while they don’t hate us for something stupid and selfish we’ve done? That would be revolutionary. I love idealism. It gives me warm fuzzies. I am going to use it while I still have it.
I guess, you just do what you know how to do, or when the fabled “right” person comes along you don’t care about yourself so much. I don’t know. It’s all a little hard for me to believe. The movies have ruined it, because life is nothing like them. And, in lots of ways, it should be.
What do you think of when you think of “love”?
…just a question.
I don’t get people in relationships. I don’t get relationships when I’m in them. So, unfortunately and too bad for me, I don’t often get in them.
It all seems so easy…but its not. It’s hard. It’s frustrating before you’re in a relationship because of the uncertainty and awkwardness, and once you are in them because of the selfishness imposed upon them. And that selfishness isn’t even just dating relationships, friendships as well. It seems like more often than not, with loving someone, it’s really only about what we can get out of that other person. Its always that they will make me feel whole, they will make me happy, they will make me less lonely, they will buy me dinner or take me to a movie, or they will do some never-ending list of tasks for me. They will take care of me. Me. It’s relationship masturbation.
Oscar Wilde: “Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and Domine, non sum dignus, should be on the lips and in the hearts of those receiving it.”
I don’t want to spend my whole life worrying about me. I don’t find myself interesting enough for that. I want to think and care about someone else. I want that someone else to worry about me. It doesn’t work if someone loves you as much as you love you. Self-esteem and worth are important (if you don’t feel worthy of love, how can you give or receive it?), but self-obsession has been robbing so many people of knowing real love.
Conor Oberst: “You think about yourself too much and you ruin who you love.”
It always takes something really awful for someone to appreciate what they have, or worst-case scenario, had. It does for me, at least, but I’m also fairly certain that I have some deep-rooted subconscious masochistic tendencies. But what if we actually appreciated people while they don’t hate us for something stupid and selfish we’ve done? That would be revolutionary. I love idealism. It gives me warm fuzzies. I am going to use it while I still have it.
I guess, you just do what you know how to do, or when the fabled “right” person comes along you don’t care about yourself so much. I don’t know. It’s all a little hard for me to believe. The movies have ruined it, because life is nothing like them. And, in lots of ways, it should be.
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