I love you so much that it hurts my head.

pop bang pow splat.

heart beats fall flat. 

My fingers are twitching and itching and my brain doesn't know how to stop them, so they're typing and typing away nonsense. Everything is nonsense.

Am tired. Am wired. Am coping alright. Am hopeful. Am wishful. Am not sleeping at night. 

I guess thats nothing new. 

But a new found deeper sense of worthlessness is!

Fantastic. 

It's been an eventful couple of months. Ok, so, it really hasn't but I still have miraculously not found the time to update this regularly...or at all. 

I've been spending alot of time writing and reading and feeling inadequate, so its been productive at the very least. I'm still only 21,000 words (roughly 62 pages) into my project "Somewhere In The Middle" but its got potential. I am hoping to have another 10,000 words finished by new years, and maybe look into having it considered for publication (under a pseudonym, naturally) in the next year or so. Thats kind of exciting. Whether or not it will actually happen is up for debate, but eh.

oooooooooh! And I found my copy of A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius again today after an extended period of misplacement, so that makes me very very happy in a sort of not really happy but kind of relieved that I found it because it bugged me not knowing where it was even though I wasn't really planning on reading it again anytime soon sort of way. Now that I have found it, I will read all the ridiculous and wonderful things Dave Eggers writes and seethe with jealously over the fact that I didn't think of them first, or rather, I thought I did, but I didn't, and I used many more crappy and incoherent (perfect example there in that) words to describe them.

I was talking to my grandmother today about something, I don't remember what, but she said this phrase "Well...God works in mysterious ways, but it's all for a reason." 

I told her I disagree with her. I think sometimes God doesn't work in any ways. I think sometimes bad things happen, somethings are just shit, and thats all they are. There isn't any reason for it, there isn't any apology, it just is and we have to deal with it. She looked at me like I was burning a cross, like it was horrible and blasphemous for me to think such things. I do not think it is blasphemous. I think there are somethings that God is not working in. I think there are alot of things that he is not involved in, but it is up to us to use them, take them, learn from them and see God through the mess. You can't tell me that everything happens for a reason, I don't see how that is possible, how God could have a hand in everything and still be at all good. Maybe I'm wrong. 

I just want to go to sleep...why can't I go to sleep...I just want to sleep...I close my eyes, I close my eyes and nothing happens, I close my eyes everything spins, I close my eyes...the ceiling is liquid, it gets darker darker darker...degausser is playing in the background...the dog is barking outside again, the ceiling gets darker darker darker....I just want to go to sleep. 

goodnight.

Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon...

What do you do with passion?

What do you do with that gutwrenching, heartbreaking, deep, firey yearning for whatever drives you? What do you do with all that turmoil, that sickness, that desperate every-fibred longing for your desires? How do you react when you feel that pull at everything you are, have been and will be being wrapped up completely in something other than yourself?

Do you cry? Do you shut down? Do you get angry?

How do we deal with that? Its terrifying, wreckless, aching, urgent--painful even. Passion is synonymous with suffering for a reason. Passion is not always pleasant. In fact, I would say that it shows up most often when we are missing something--when we feel that we are lacking in some aspect, or relationship. When we want something more and feel empty, or lonely, or isolated for lack of it. Thats because once we have something its easy to become desensitized to it. Its kind of like kids with christmas toys. They spend weeks counting down the days until christmas, waiting anxious, longing for it to come sooner. You can almost see the pain in their eyes--what? twenty days until christmas--its so far! And finally Christmas comes, and they recieve the gifts they were so passionate about--the things they longed for so badly. And they love their new toys, and their passion carries over into a joyful form--but what happens in a week? Two weeks? Next december? Are they still excited about those toys? Or are they longing for something new, something they dont already have?

Its easy to feel passionate about romance when you're a single twenty something.
Its easy to feel passionate about following Jesus at a church camp.
Its easy to feel passionate about helping the marginalized when they're right in front of you.

But what about when you're not? When you're somewhere else? When you've distanced yourself? When the novelty has worn into the common place?

And also what is the result of the passion in our own lives? How does it effect our behavior?

How do we control passion for good in our lives? Because passion is the driving force behind all of our desires and therefore all of our thoughts and then all of our actions--both godly and sinful it can lead to either good or selfish outcomes. That said, it is not a bad thing, its powerful and unpredictable and dangerous but it is not bad. Its like a small small reflection of God in our own lives.

Over and over in the Bible we see God and Jesus filled with such awesome passion. God's longing for the Israelites in the Old testament to return to him from their own selfish passions-His passion for humanity to be reunited with Him being so great that He allows His own son to die for it- Jesus' desire for the Jews and their religious leaders to embrace the wonderful freedom of God and hope of the Kingdom instead of the legalism and judgement of the law appears over and over in the New Testament- the entire Bible is made of books oozing passion. It's a part of who God is, and therefore a part of who we are as well.

So what do we do with it?

I will be a poet, and you, poetry.

This blog should really be named: Diary of a Derranged Insomniac or something like that. Geesh. Must I only write at ridiculous hours about nonsense?

In a word: Yes.

Now A Quote:

"...he shall never know how I love him; and that, not because he's handsome...but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same..."--Emily Bronte

I've been reading Wuthering Heights recently, and Im not ashamed to admit its only because of Twilight. But I like it. There's not one good character in the whole book really, everyone is horrible, and selfish, or cowardly and more like real people than just about any other story I've read.

I really liked that quote there though, about how they're the same. Her love for him isnt based on how he looks, its not shallow, its in her blood, its part of who she is.

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger."

Lovely.

Another Thought:


When is it time to give up?


When do you just let things go, when do you stop fighting for, or crying over your dreams and start living with the fact that maybe life doesnt have what you wanted in store?
Im still trying to figure things out, and I hate that about myself. I spend so much time talking about things, thinking about things, talking about how we should stop just talking about things and do things, but Im paralyzed. I fall short. I dont do what I want to do, I am desperately aware that this is my life and Im wasting it, with doubts, with hesitation, with all this uncertainty--but as much as I hate it, I dont change it. I stick with it, I live in it, and I pull other people into it.

When do I quit that?

When do I stop waiting fo the guy to fall madly yet improbably in love with me, stop waiting for a magical fairy to drop a load of cash on me so I can open up a coffee shop like I've wanted or go to France and buy a studio apartment to paint and eat croissants in, stop waiting for my life to fall into place before I live it. Its not going to fall into place. Its not. Its messy and awkward and above all lonely but its mine. When will I own up and accept it? Will I? Or will I spend the rest of my life with this wierd disconnect, feeling like Im looking down at myself like a stranger, like everything is foreign and doesnt fit?

This past week at FUEL Dale Bliss kept talking about how you have to own your life, you cant just sit back and watch it go. You have to make it. Maybe its time to stop making the cowardly lion look like the terminator (oh how I love Twilight) and start something real.

Yeah!

....How?

I aint missing you at all, no matter what I might say...

Im trying not to think about how disgustingly late it will be before I get to sleep again tonight. Im also trying not to think about how much I hate the artwork that Im doing for Josh, how I cant get it to look anything like I want it to, and how its going to have to be finished tomorrow night...err...tonight.
But really, sickeningly, horrifyingly, pathetically, tragically, amazingly, mass quantities of "ly" words varying in degrees of revulsion-ly, Im thinking about how very sad I am that I didnt get to go to the bookstore and read the first chapter of Breaking Dawn today. The sneak peak on EW, just was enough to make me feel sick with myself for not doing it. Gah. There is something seriously messed up with my brain lately. Seriously.
Earlier, before all this self-disgust/masochism set in, I was thinking, about how people react to things they dont like. Waiting in line, driving in traffic, sardines, the president, gifts from the neighbors dog, having to take twice as long to get to the bathroom when your bladder the size of a capri sun is filled with the contents of a Big Gulp (I mean, lets face it, small soda's are for suckers who dont know the concept of value) because you have to get a key to the gas station toilet--and inevitably get stuck behind the Cat Lady on lottery day--that is disgusting anyways negating the entire purpose of the key,--smells, tastes, songs, words, people. And how Jesus reacts to things he didnt like in the Bible. Im not going to explain that, you can read up on it, and plus, its much to late for citations, they have a curfew...or should.
I know my reactions differ, if not always externally, then internally. Politeness really isnt much more than a clever, universally accepted deceit, buts its nice to us so we keep it around. But, I just really dont understand why we dont often think about that--how we react to unpleasant things that is. There are so many Christians with so much disdain and dislike for just about everything not found in a Lifeway store, for real life and people, Christians who react so ridiculously selfish on a regular basis, I have to fight so hard against that in myself. But its worth it not having to carry around all that hate, or envy, or selfishness that causes us to look like red faced crying children when things dont go our way.
Yeah. I dont think I managed to keep one single thread of thought going there, it kind of skipped around, but its just something I've been thinking, so its to be expected.
Im thinking about how afraid I am of this summer, of nothing happening, just another year passing, its like Dave Eggers says, this is some terrible machine where only the predictable occurs. Its rather tiresome really.

Until You Come Around Everything Is Nonsense: An Exerpt: Sordid and Sacred

"You know I hate this." Jude said while looking over at me and then out the small, gray fogged window and back again. "I hate all of this--the feeling, the taste--the air--its like breathing blood, all iron and thick, sharp... Jesus, I hate this." I didnt need to say anything in return. He was speaking with the nervous abandment that comes when you feel like you might choke on all the guilt and shame you've swallowed so many times. When you speak just to prove to yourself that you still can, that you exist, that this is real.
Its a cold day in mid December. Everything outside looks foreign and dull, metallic-the color of the surface of the moon and just as familiar. The city is a storage freezer with a factory inside, menacing, heartless, mechanic. The car seemed to be still, like in those old movies, the scenery passing by. Alleys, windows, scarves, children, cafes, trucks, all flat, two dimensional, a painting rolling past. I hated this too.
We pulled into a cracked concrete parking lot and paid a man with fingerless gloves who directed us into a spot between a rusted red cadillac and a fiesta with spinners. Stepping around sick puddles of oily sludge and ice Jude's fingers were cold and pale but felt like home between mine. It was 2 blocks to the funeral home, and three and half to the rear of the restaurant where the police found Jude's brother, Joshua, three days ago. This was all horribly wrong.


--Nikky!

Just, please...

well the kitchen is cold
but the coffee is warm
and the sun's coming up
the day has just begun
and you're already bored.

you're bored of cheering me up
bored of calming me down
bored of drying my eyes
but there once was a time when you were the one.

you were the blue of the sky
you came after the storm
you were the switch on the wall
in the dark of the hall
I'm still fumbling for

'cause i'm lost in the black
I don't know where I am.
arms stretched out in front
I'm calling your name
just as loud as I can

I know there's words that we will never speak
and the questions can't be answered easily
but I wanted it to be easy so

nod your head if the plans have changed
shake it, love, if they stayed the same
smile at me and I will stay
start to cry and I'll go away
just please don't leave me guessing.

so you made me come
then you sent me away
like a messenger bird
so I circled the earth
blown away in the wind

but I always returned
with some new little song
some sad story to tell
of a brief love affair
with a girl I compared to you and she failed

you said you don't want me to beg
then you said get down on your knees
'cause you knew that I would
if I do any good satisfying your needs.

and I know all about those things we cannot speak
and just so you know well they don't bother me
so you don't have to be worried

just nod your head if the plans have changed
shake it, love, if they stayed the same
smile at me and I will stay
start to cry and I'll go away
just please don't keep me waiting

just nod your head if your mind's been changed
shake it, love, if some hope remains
just say the word and of course I'll stay
roll your eyes and I'll go away

just please don't leave me guessing.
just please don't keep me waiting.
--Messenger Birds Song, Conor Oberst


That song is pretty much perfect.


Just please, a little certainty. Something real and solid to make that knot in my stomach unwind a little, because I've swallowed all this doubt...

I finished reading Twilight this morning (I couldnt put it down, I literally read it overnight) and its put me in a rather...interesting mood...I think as much as I absolute loved it, its just made me more cynical, more sad that that sort of epic, poetic, gutwrenching, meant to be, fated, honest sort of love doesnt seem real, or possible. I think out of all the great things about Edward, the best is his unconditional, unwavering, irrational love for Bella. It doesnt make sense, and thats exactly why it is so powerful and moving. Every girl wants that. No wonder this series is huge, it hits us at our hearts and makes us want to be something nobler. To live more nobly.

I just wish we all werent so afraid of everything.

They are scared. They are jealous.

We are pathetic. We are stars.
-Dave Eggers

My week at CWS was great. I went to a karaoke bar, ate way too much, played putt putt more times than I would like to admit and even came in first once, and rode the wild woody with Hope. You dont wake up to that every morning. :)

I missed everyone. Kendall asked me with big sad eyes why I didnt live in Georgia anymore and nearly broke my heart. If only Ohio was closer to the South...sigh.

I guess I dont have anything real to say in this entry, but if I've learned anything this week, its that life wont wait. Everyone is growing up and getting older, and there isnt any time to be angry, or hold grudges, or feel inadequate.

I am so the opposite of smooth...

Lets do an experiment.

Lets combine, Nikky--myself, a horrible case of sucking at life, and video chat and see exactly how retarded, boring, and empty-headed I can make myself seem. I dont know that can be tested scientifically or not, but it is definitely like air--you cant always see the awkward, but oh, oh can you feel it.

Oh I suck.

Moving on. Oh please god, let me move on.

I found a bunch of my old...writings...and here is the final lines to one of them, applicable? Maybe not. Brilliant? You but your bum. :)

When it all comes down its not about you or me
And what desensitized pop culture spewing pseudo-people
We’ve become: its about love or lack there of.


Everything here is soggy. Like a sock. The entire state feels like a giant mud puddle. The children might have to bring water wings and snorkel gear to dive for easter eggs this year. At least it might make it more interesting. :)

Sorry, this entry is kind of choppy and wierd, but in all fairness, its late and its my blog, so lets cope. And now old....QUOTES! ( I found them earlier.)

"Oh, its a Nikky nose!" -Josiah Fletcher after squishing the nose on my al gore mask flat.

"Fruit Flies are amazing!" --Kyle

"Sentimentalists are not meant to be alone. Especially in Linens N Things." -Me.

"I've never seen a moth without a fake light on. Wonder what they did when there werent any fake lights. So the real question is: Do moths exist without fake lights?"--Graysen

"You know, you have these things, you buy them, keep them nice, take care of them for awhile and then they die in random frightening eggroll incidents."--Jaymin

OOOOooohhhh!! Blast from the past!
Xanga entry from forever ago, not ever before seen on the likes of blogger!
Enjoy! (And notice how not much has changed and pretty much applies completely to my life right NOW, I mean, I seriously even had a freakin toaster streudel fro breakfast...with TWO packets of icing..I really did. Elton John was right...it is a circle of life...dubious.)


Its late. Really late. Like past 3am late. I cant sleep. This hasnt happened to me in a while. I was an excessive insomniac in highschool, and the begining of last year until I got that sickness--mono or such type diseases. Then I was tired all the time. I thought that killed it. Dont really like insomnia, but I guess its a time for me to be productive (if not completely coherent.) Thought I would take this opportunity to write whats on my mind. Not in letter format though. Electronic. Oh yeah. I love actual mail, but am phenomenally bad at actually mailing my actual mail. Oh yeah. Say that five times fast.
This past week has been draining. Like I previously xanged (yeah, thats a verb now.), this whole past summer has been basically an enormous drain on my person. I dont know how much I have left. Do they make people rechargers? I think they do...something by the name of caffiene...yeeessssss,,,But I havent had that stuff, so its not to blame for my sporatic sleepless tendancies. I think the Sims 2 is. Stupid game. It sucks your soul. Start playing it, and next thing you know its four days later and you wonder what you've done with your life. Think I've misplaced it...hmm...check under or in the couch. Everything is always in the couch. Damn item eating couches. They're greedy. Thats what they are. All I want is my pen. I dont want the skittles or the pair of shoes wedged miraculously between the cushions. Just the pen. But no. No, you may not have the pen (saith the couch). No, I have eaten the pen. You see. Its wedged. Need a crowbar. Not today.
So thats it for couches. Dont even get me started on toasters. As Eddie Izzard will tell you, theyre all liars. Mine lied to me just this morning. Said my toaster strudel was a number 5 toaster struedel. Nope. 3. Bits of cold parts in the middle. So I put it back in. Came out as a 9 toaster streudel. (notice I spelled that 3 times, and it took me until the third time to get it right...am too lazy to fix the spelling on the other two. But not too lazy to write this note...hmmm...dubious...) But I did use two packets of icing on it instead of one. So it had that going for it.
You know I think I may publish this on xanga. (Woohoo! I did!!) I like publishing things. They have my name on them. Like my drivers liscence. I got a new one today, because I lost mine. Suspect it has fallen victim to the bastard item eating couch. No other explanation. (I had to type that in hushed tones...as I am laying on said couch and fear for my own life....) Plus everything I write this late is completely ridiculous, though I must say among my most creative. I think thats the special element that makes any art what it is. Complete abnormalness of the mind of the person creating it. Occuring naturally or howsoever induced (as in the form of sleeplessness or flintstones vitamins.) A pattern of thinking so completely different for the typical day to day, that it is impossible not to take notice, positively or negatively. Cause that's the whole point of art isnt it? To divert ordinary brain patterns into extra-ordinary ones. To for a moment make you think differently than usual. To make you think at all.
I guess thats why I like it so much. Introversion does that. Makes you appreciate the mind, simply because thats where you spend most of your time. Not with other people, though they may be there. I used to think it was lonely. But now I suppose that its only lonely if you have a boring mind. I've been trying to make mine more interesting with reading and such. Still havent found a book to just sit down and read yet. Am searching for one that will keep my attention. Its hard, considering mine's span of attention is more than likely less than that of a goldfish.
The cheesey cracker type. Baked and not fried. You know, the creepy grinning snack that smiles back? They probably smile because they know once you eat them they will live in your stomach and eat your intestines or something like that. I dont trust them. Plus the whole vegetarian thing...Im not really sure I approve of eating a fish shaped cracker. Doesnt that glorify the consumption of meat type products? They're just so delicious though...mmm....


Tomorrow is a new day. I hope we make the best of it.
Love you all.
--Nikky!

There is a tide in the affairs of men.

There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

--From Julius Caesar, Act IV, Scene III.



Just something I have been thinking about recently.

--Nikky!

The sky glows, I see it shining with my eyes closed.

As Im writing this I'm peeling a bloodorange thats staining my fingers pink, while my car sits diagonal in the snow and ice covering my yard, about 30 feet from my front door. Everything today seems gray or white outside. No other colors exist. Everything is monochrome.

Let me rewind:

Yesterday at best was disappointing and at worst broke my heart, but when everything is lonely I can be my own best friend. Apathy is disgusting. Self-doubt makes me nauseous. I wish I didnt possess those qualities. I wish you didnt either. Its time to move on.

The bloodorange I am peeling is from Tom's market in Yellow Springs, which is also why my car is diagonal in the yard, having more slid into the drive way than driven into it. Everything is related.

I just got back from Dino's yet again. When everything is frozen and blue that place is warm. Today I forsook (yeah, thats right, forsook) my usual and had the barista, Eric surprise me with a drink. It was wonderful. White Chocolate Amaretto. Sitting in the window with my drink and my book I watched everything roll by, like the background of car scenes in old movies, it felt just as real. The soundtrack to Le Fableux Destin d'Amelie Poulin was playing in the shop and outside there was a lady in a cloak with red hair and an Elizabethan dress. There is a tree that different people have knitted a sweater around. There was an old man with white hair, a red bicyle and bright blue helmet. Almost everyone smiles and says hello. Then I walk down to the record shop to talk with the girl in there and buy New Kids on the Block on vinyl. There is a guy there with dark hair and Cursive t-shirt looking whom I've seen once before who greets me like we're friends. The best friends I have here have become people I dont even know.

Why is it easier to love strangers than people we know? Maybe because we dont know them it makes it easier. We cant be dissuaded by their flaws if we arent aware they exist. To dig deeper would mean tarnishing the image of them we have in our heads. But I like broken people. I like the tarnished and the flawed and uncertain, because I can relate and those things dont scare me or make me feel awkward and stupid like perfection does.

I dont know what Im ranting about anymore except that maybe we dont have to be so afraid of everyone all the time, because maybe they're just as afraid of us, of what we think of them, of what standards we hold them to. There are all sorts of people out there, but they all just want someone who cares. The frienliness you find in Yellow Springs is pretty rare I think. Try going to any mall or airport and make eye contact and smile at anyone and you will see what I mean. Most people look through you, above you, past you, wherever and the ones you do catch will more than likely look surprised. I think its one of the great tragedies of our age. That we're too busy or too afraid to care.

Oh well, enough ranting, Im tired of it. Im tired of words--the abundance and lack of them--there is always too many or not enough and they almost always leave me feeling empty or inspired but inadequate. Its time to do something.


But I cant. Im leaving that up to you.

:)

Pocket of Darts

So Ive been walking around for the last several months with this knot in my stomach and this thought in my head that I might be something special, something different, that I might matter a little more than most people to one person. And Im tired of it, because all it has done has given me a headache and made me feel sick.

Jaymin recently gave me a copy of Captivating, the book for girls, the counterpart to Wild At Heart. Its all about figuring out what it means to be female, why girls act the way they do, why we feel certain ways, and what we show the world about God. I was pretty reluctant to read it actually, I guess I always thought that since I think girls are boring and stupid overall and I cant relate to most of them on a normal level, that the book wouldnt relate to me. But I was wrong. And that terrifies me.

I feel exacly how most women feel. I feel like most of the time I am completely alone, that even though I have great friends all over the country, a family I love, that something is missing, some big part of my heart isnt there. And I walk around everywhere feeling this, taking the unbearable lightness of empty space with me, into every situation, into every relationship. I always feel like something is missing. I always feel like I dont really matter, like somehow I should be better, stronger, smarter, prettier, and maybe if I succeed in that then I will feel ok. And thats not to say that Im constantly depressed, or unhappy---because Im not in fact, Im usually happy, but those feelings are still there, its this wierd thing, I cant even explain it--but like I said, Im not alone in this. Almost every woman I've talked to feels the exact same way, and I've been asking. Im not going to go into detail, if you really want that, pick up the book, Im sure it will change how to relate to half the population.

So, back to the first paragraph, and back to whats in my heart--Im tired. I dont want to be weighted down with uncertainty, with this horrible feeling that there is something wrong with me because I dont have anyone fighting for me, I mean, after all, dont all princesses have a knight braving all sorts of hardships for them? Im tired of feeling like Im nothing because no one loves me enough to do anything about it. The sick thing is, that its probably not going to change. That feeling will be there most of my life. For every womans life. We are built for relationships, thats how we find our value, and we are sinned against by silence, by indifference.

Wow. I never thought that my misogynistic tendancies would be so vastly altered. :) Dont worry, Im not going to burn any undergarments any time soon. Its just that I think every man, every person should do their best to make sure the people they care about know that they care about them. Chances are that you havent told them enough. I know I havent. I dont want to live thinking that I missed out on so many opportunities to tell someone that they matter to me, that they are valued for who they are, because I want someone to tell that to me.

Goodnight.
--Nikky

Hallelujah Zig Zag Nothing

So, its been awhile since I have written anything, for the simple reason that I havent had anything to say. I still dont really, I just feel that since it is a new year and has been so for almost a month I should probably suck it up and document some thoughts or feelings, whatever junk comes to mind.

And this is all I have:

Everything will be alright. Everything will work out.

"Je serai poète et toi poésie..."
--Francais Copée
(I will be a poet, and you, poetry.)

Thats all.
--Nikky!