Pleonasm Chasm

2011-12-03T14:29:00.000-08:00

It's not that surprising, I guess. Or at least, I shouldn't be all that surprised.

You spend years-- YEARS-- building up walls and an amazing defense. And for a split second, you forget the danger and let that person back in because you're so convinced of your own security. And then you come to the halting realization that all those walls were only there to bury so deep what you had once felt. And you feel like such an idiot because things aren't so different for you at all.

And everything happens all over again.

So you find yourself sitting at home on a blustery day during which the wind is too strong for you to go outside and all of a sudden, you recall a song you heard a few times but never really cared for or knew the words to. For some reason, the words come back to you: "San Francisco." And all of a sudden, you want to hear the song. So you put it on, and the words are different this time around. You look up the lyrics and suddenly this song is the song of your life.

But it's too long to make some obscure tweet about and it's too personal to really discuss in front of everyone. So you turn to your private blog that no one really reads because it's a safe place. And anyone who does read it isn't going to tell you they've read it anyway. So it's a safe place.

I descended a dusty gravel ridge
Beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge
Until I eventually arrived
At the place where your soul had died.

Barefoot in the shallow creek,
I grabbed some stones from underneath
And waited for you to speak to me.

In the silence it became so very clear
That you had long ago disappeared.
I cursed myself for being surprised
That this didn't play like it did in my mind.

All the way from San Francisco
As I chased the end of your road
'Cause I've still got miles to go.

And I want to know my fate
If I keep up this way.

And it's hard to want to stay awake
When everyone you meet, they all seem to be asleep
And you wonder if you're missing a dream

You can't see a dream
You can't see a dream.
You just can't see a dream.
A dream

And then it started getting dark.
I trudged back to where the car was parked
No closer to any kind of truth
As I assume was the case with you.

I hate your silence. I hate your manipulation. I hate that you left me back then and that you've done it again. That you've done it every time. I hate that you're not like the others. And I hate-- I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate-- that you don't care.

I hate that every time I hear this song from now on I'll think of you. And I hate that I still can't listen to other songs because it's just too much. And I hate that you're a liar. I hate that you've robbed me of so many years of my life.

Freedom

2011-06-03T11:52:00.001-07:00

I once ran off cliffs in hopes that you would be there to catch me.

Then, when you let me fall, I feared running off cliffs at all.

But now, these days, I can run off cliffs in song

because now I am freed to fly.

Twisted Oak

2011-06-03T11:11:00.001-07:00

When every word from your mouth poured out like bitterness, I couldn't help but wonder how deeply those scars across your dark wood were wrenched.

Seed

2010-08-15T02:55:00.000-07:00

"An idea is like a virus. Resilient, highly contagious. The smallest seed of an idea can grow. It can grow to define, or destroy you."

Like I said about Inception-- a lot of the themes really echoed with me. This was one of them. And the more I look at different ideas that have taken hold of my life and the root of them, the more I discover about myself.

For example, all those self-esteem issues I have as far as looks or being liked. This all stemmed from when I was a kid. The being-liked part comes mostly from not being accepted because I was the only Asian in a predominately-White community. Racism out the wazoo. The looks part mostly comes from when I was a kid, and my "best friend" at the time telling me that I always had to be the slave girl or "horse" or whatever other demeaning creature she needed me to be so she could feel like and be the princess. And I was never the princess. Because if I were to be the princess, she promised, "I'm not going to be your friend anymore." Or the ever popular, "This is my house. You have to do what I say." Which goes back to the feeling of desperately needing to be liked.

I've also been reading this book, and one of the things it mentions is the power of our words. If we are told that we are something LONG enough, we begin to believe it. If we are constantly told we are fat, ugly, dumb, stupid, a mess-up, a mistake-- that's how we see ourselves. And everything we do attempts to combat (or accommodate) those ideas. Which goes back to our beginning quote-- those little ideas come to define or destroy us. Or both.

Another idea that has defined me is that of artist or artistry. Or pain being intermingled with pleasure and that Life is a beautiful struggle. That in chaos there is beauty.

I imagine this comes from my family-- my parents fought a lot when my sister and I were kids, but we managed to have beautiful little pockets of love as a family here and there. We weren't completely messed up, though we had our moments. Our house was always been one of love mixed with fury, strength mixed with moments of weakness and desperation so heartbreaking that I imagine God's heart broke and the breaking resonated through the Heavens.

But now that idea has grown like a virus to make me feel like if there ISN'T fighting or struggle or dissonance within a relationship, maybe something is wrong. If there isn't a push and push-back, something isn't right. But is that what it's supposed to be like? I don't know.

Other seeds of ideas I can see are forming right now and spreading their roots. Old ideas are being overturned, while others have become mustard trees-- demanding faith I don't have for truths that aren't real, all the while defining or destroying me-- at times, both.

But really, it's the veracity-- the REALity of these ideas that gets to me. Even if I have an idea, if it stems from somewhere false, then it is meaningless and useless to me. What's more-- it reveals a root of falsehood. Thus, like perceptions of beauty and self-worth, if I do not perceive the real seed existent not within dreams but within reality, then I am led to be defined or destroyed by a falsehood.

Twist

2010-08-07T00:08:00.001-07:00

One of the most beautiful and sensual things I have ever heard/ read:

"Oh, I lose control when I hear your body move through the walls in the next room."

Transgressions

2010-08-03T02:39:00.000-07:00

"Time was stolen from us."

So I just watched inception. It evoked a lot of strong emotions from me, even though it didn't make me cry (not like Pixar movies do... the tricky little buggers). And perhaps it's the expresso + condensed milk, but I can't stop my heart from beating 500 million miles a minute.

I've never been that "sucked in" for a movie. Usually, I'm able to step back and breathe and realize that I am not directly affected by the movie. But for some reason, this movie really stepped within my realm of consciousness (no jokes or play on words intended).

Maybe because I felt like this movie kept up. Or maybe because so many of the ideas and themes resonated with things I always think about.

The veracity of reality. The manipulation of emotions or perception. Guilt. The manipulation of others. How the figures of our dreams capture emotions or evoke senses within us. Images that push the limits of reality-- things we can't forget that seem so real as we can't draw the line between what we remember versus what we've dreamed.

I mean, truth be told... It wasn't that the movie was completely unpredictable. Or that the writing was perfect. BUT-- I think what seals the deal for me are the presentation of those themes. There was a certain rawness that appeals to the senses.

And if dreams are how we process reality, messages from God, messages not-- a level of understanding that floats around in ways we are unaware. And how people dream similar dreams-- teeth falling out, old men, wise women, haunted houses, skeletons-- there's a level of consciousness basic to all of us that [perhaps] transcends culture and understanding.

Again, the blending of reality and dreams into something else.

And the quote first said is taken from [don't laugh] Tomb Raider (the first one). It's when Lara is talking to her father about time being taken away by his death. I love the way it's phrased... no one knows who stole the time but there's a sense of belonging tied to it. That, as father and daughter, they deserved time together but it was taken away-- not necessarily abruptly but definitely unjustly.

I know that we as human beings are not necessarily entitled to anything God does not decide to give (NB: I'm not talking about social, civic, or human rights here. I'm talking about Life.) But I think the tie-in occurs in that I wish I still had time to spend with my dad. I wish we were as close as we used to be. And in some ways, I feel like the way I am with my family, the way we act with one another, is a facade. And I wonder... if my dad dies working, is that the last I'm going to see him? Is that all we have left-- "happy" periods of time when he can visit... never the reality of a relationship again?

Human relationships are messy. We screw things up. Say things we don't mean. Make each other cry, laugh, smile, scream. Films, songs, books devoted to exploring the depth of our soul. And yet, for all our exploration, how little we truly understand ourselves.

On some level, I'd love to have an argument with my dad. Because then it'd mean we'd been around each other long enough to discover something we don't agree about.

Not that I love discord. I just miss the reality our relationship used to possess.

On some level, it's the same with my mom. Sometimes, when she calls, all we do is talk about whether I've eaten and what I'm doing at the moment. If I let it, that's where the conversation dies. I don't think my mother knows how to talk to me. She believes the best in me-- that's for sure. Up to levels I don't understand or deserve [which is very much like God-- how He can see the best in us that we are unable to see in ourselves]. But if I don't push the conversation forward, it will settle. Like dust on old shelves filled with forgotten things. Things I used to use every day but have now lost sight of or outgrown.

I very much believe that everything is connected, which is another point Inception touches on. So many details are connected, and webs are woven.

Another song I've been obsessed with lately is "In Exile" by Thrice. There's ideas in it that also echo a lot with me: not having my roots set down anywhere, a heart that longs for eternity, feeling out of place in this world, a transience I can't explain. We played it after getting out of the theater, and the melody suits well with the emotions the movie evoked.

I guess... the violence of it. The back-and-forth. The "kick." (which is another theme I've had echoed at times. A little girl of about ten or eleven with freckles and a bright blue swimmer's cap, hot pink bathing suit. Eyes closed tight with a crooked-tooth grin as she falls into a bright blue pool of ice water. Falling off a cliff in hopes someone will catch me. Wanting to jump to my death, falling off buildings. Jumping into pools of water, clothes and all just to feel the rush of coolness on my skin.) The desperation of it. Searching for something. The urgency.

"My heart is filled with songs of forever,
A city that ensures where all is made new."

2010-07-21T15:26:00.000-07:00

A girl with headphones on in her own world as everything around her falls apart.

Ramble

2010-05-05T19:21:00.000-07:00

So, for the first time since my big revelation, today, I talked to someone when I didn't want to. Not just talked to them. Had a long "conversation" with them.

This conversation mostly consisted of me saying "uh huh" and "yeah." For me, it was a pointless conversation that entailed them talking about everything that was going on in their life. I feel like I could have been anyone else on the line-- any bodiless voice simply saying "yeah" and "uh huh" with the occasional digitally randomized variation. And in all honesty, I didn't care about what was going on in the conversation. The problems didn't reach me, and the complaints or anger didn't jibe with me either.

Maybe it was because I was tired. Maybe it was because I felt apathetic today. Maybe it's because, slowly but surely, I see the range of people I used to enjoy being around with (or even enjoy tolerating) becoming a smaller and smaller group.

But rather than excusing myself from the conversation or at least being honest about it and saying, "You know what, I'm not really in the mood to talk right now," I went ahead and sat through it. I fed her the BS "uh huh"s and "yeah"s and let her think we were having a real conversation.

And I felt so crappy afterward. I felt crappy when the conversation started, I felt crappy during it, and I felt super crappy afterward. Mostly because I kept thinking, "I would hate if someone did this to me. I would hate if someone tried to placate me like this. I would never even tolerate this."

But maybe she's not as good as me at telling when someone isn't in the mood to care.

(Though I find myself asking, "Why does it take a mood to care?")

So what do I do now? What do I take from this? What is the lesson?

The lesson is the same as before.

Stop lying. Just be honest. Acknowledge the person's needs and a future desire to speak to them (if this is true). Then kindly excuse yourself and hang up. Lying about wanting to talk and/or putting up with undesirable conversation will only put you in a bad mood. Plus, let's face it. You're not really listening. It's disrespectful to them and you.

Also, the question about being in a mood to care... Yup. That's a tough one. Jesus was never in a "mood" to care. He always cared. Because he loved everyone.

So then that brings us to the question... how do we get there? Assumedly, loving with a love like Christ. Letting Christ's love flow through you. Being in the Holy Spirit.

But it's not that I don't care in THAT sense. It's not like I don't love that person (love in the sense that I want the best for them, want to see them happy and growing and challenged, and ALIVE). But the sense that I don't care in that... I know what the conversation will already be like. I know what will generally be said. The tone of it. The atmosphere. And ya know what? It's that tone that bothers me. That spirit of it. THAT'S what bothers me. Not the actual person. No. Usually, I wouldn't mind seeing the person under certain circumstances or conditions.

But the tone or certain things they do fill me with distaste. For the person I stayed on the phone with, the anger and self-justification of actions. The "I know better" or "ugh" or bitter factor. For another person, the touching. And the complaining about not spending enough time. The whining about their personal life.

I guess I'm seeing a common thread.

Typically, people who are not very aware of others' feelings/ moods. People who like to complain rather than grit their teeth and do something. People who typically don't stop and think, "Is what I'm doing right?"

I guess that's helpful. I don't hate everyone. Or even dislike them. I just dislike that quality. Strongly.

Mostly because I believe in gritting your teeth and bearing it. Or gritting your teeth and overcoming it. Because I believe when the world is grinding against your knuckles, tearing into the flesh and bone, you set your mouth in a hard, hard line and go onward as if nothing is happening. I believe in never giving up and extraneous complaining never helps anything. Furthermore, I believe in ALWAYS questioning. And being as understanding as possible with the other side. Empathy, a huge component of my soul, is like air to me and when people don't do it... I dunno. It's like someone taking a razor and just scraping it against my skin, which is different from when Life is pushing your face into the dirt and daring you to breathe.

I guess I appreciate a strength. Real strength. Facing adversity. Which is why I respect the person I talked with on the phone today. What I don't like, though, is when that adversity develops bitterness. That I just don't enjoy being around.

Anyway, enough poorly phrased ramblings.

Regrets

2010-04-11T19:50:00.000-07:00

Regrets:

I regret not expressing myself in the ways that I want.
I want to be art.
I want to be the contradictions I've stored so faithfully up in my soul.
I want to love God with so much desperation and passion that people see THAT as art-- that all of these urges to fly and sing and dance in sheer sheets under the stars are not profane but worship. Not deviant but divine.

I regret not taking risks. I regret coloring inside of the lines. I regret trying to be picture-perfect. I regret muting my dreams.

So of us dream in color. Some of us dream vividly. Some of us dream without sound. Some of can only see sounds or hear colors or smell textures.

But everything I dream, I've watered it and greyed it and quieted it so that the world would accept it.

But I'm tired of acceptance. Of living enough only to just live. Every moment, I'm ready to fly out of my skin, but the tap's been turned and my soul just drips, drips, drips out enough to dampen the sheet but never drench it in the sweat of a thousand night's desperate visions and desires.

I'm tired of living in mediocrity. The medium. For the desires of others and what they expect out of me.

I'm tired of no longer being who I am but who I should be. I'm tired of trying to achieve the status quo and meeting it.

There's more to life than this. There's more to me than this.

I am beyond sundresses and kind words and thrift shop finds. I am beyond living in a dingy European apartment with empty wine bottles and yellow curtains. I am more than good grades, church every Sunday, and white flowers at my wedding. I am more than smiles, sacrificing my time and energy for people who don't understand or care, and I am so sick of wiping the corners of my mouth. I have forgotten small petals at my wedding, ever people-watching, and talking in conversations that don't matter.

Every conversation should mean something. Every moment should be a moment worth living for.

If I refuse to give assignments I don't want to grade, why would I live a life I regret?

We make our own happiness, and we break ourselves down.

This life I'm building, so devoid of You, is a life not worth living.

But I've been so busy trying to be what I thought You wanted that I never really bothered asking...

Who do YOU want me to be? Not what those who love You say I should be... not what those who don't love You say I should be...

But who do You want me to be?

True You never contradict your word... but does Art contradict who You are? Does Creativity, Passion, burning with desire for more Life than life currently offers?

The fact of the matter is... we've been twisting that Good Book for years and years. Truth, though not relative, is made to seem so by people looking to serve their own needs.

I cannot trust what others say. I cannot trust others to live my life for me. Rather, I must live my own life in the way You have made me to.

Not the way You've "dictated." Dictation is what has got me in this mess in the first place. But rather... the way You have MADE me to.

If I don't find my identity in You but in the desires of others, I will always be this floundering mess trying to find air. But if I come to KNOW You, YOUR desires, Your wishes... the way YOU see me...

I will be satisfied. I will not live with regrets. I will finally live outside in the stars and dream along the Milky Way in all the volume, color, and freedom for which I've longed.

The victory has been won.

I am not restrained by sin. I am not restrained by the world.

I have all the freedom I could desire. The question is if I will finally take it.

Time

2010-04-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

Regardless of what faith we are rooted in or ascribe to, we as human beings, in all of our selfishness, pride, fallibility, bitterness, anger, hatred, and complexity, are beautiful.

Not because we're [im]perfect. Not because we've got more nerves and cells and strands of DNA than we can fully comprehend or realize. Not [necessarily] because we've been created or exist or breathe.

But because each of us has a story. A sad, tragic, twisted, or uplifting story-- it doesn't matter. But the fact that each of us has one is where our beauty lies.

The kid abused. The abuser. The outsider. The ringleader. The nobody. The somebody. The everybody.

We all have our parts, as Shakespeare so deftly wrote, on this stage, but behind each existence lies a tiny sliver of the world's history. No one will ever see grass the way you or I do. No one will ever see the moon the way you or I do. No one will ever feel, drink, or hear the silence of water the way you or I do. The taste of an orange. The cool of the night. The sultriness of jasmine, the fragrance of spring.

The teenager who's only concerned with popularity still holds such conviction in their belief that they are willing to create a rift between a parentally-fed identity with what they desire to fit in with people they subconsciously know will be gone in about 5 or 6 years.

The child molester that lives on the corner of the street and struggles with their desires every day, unsure whether to indulge or abstain, lies uncomfortably in the same boat with us in that we all share in this struggle. Yet, by deviance, their story simultaneously diverts drastically from ours as we struggle with a different type of desire, and they fall prey to the overwhelming urges even they do not understand.

The professional that goes to work every day and sits behind their cubical walls, words melting together into streams of white and black, no longer able to comprehend existence for the reality and breath it is, lost in mountains of deadlines and paperwork, still holds in the secret crevices of their diaphragm a scream so primal that to let it out would rend their very existence. Thus, they are muted by their existences, their stories fading as we imagine the simplicity and mundane nature of who they are.

A baby being born. The first breath of air you've ever taken for the rest of your life. Baptism. Skinny-dipping. Cool sheets. Freedom.

How desperately we take life for granted. All of our stories stored on the insides of us. Murderers. Serial killers. Rapists. Perverts. Family. Lovers. Friends. Workers. Servants. Givers. Takers.

People.

No matter how good or how bad. No matter religion, race, or creed. The beauty of a story, every story regardless how short, is what makes us beautiful.

Emo

2009-10-22T19:53:00.001-07:00

Ghost,

you are an idea.

And I

i

i

i refuse to love you any longer.

i won't.

brunette. blonde. stick skinny. musician. debater.

it doesn't matter your form or face. the dreams are always the same.

we argue. we fight. i cry. we hug. and i wake up.

this is far too emo for me.

Everything's not lost...

2009-09-07T01:59:00.000-07:00

A year of listening to your music floating over the air space.

A year of too many silences and unspoken words.

How many hello's? How many how are you's?

When all I meant was so much more.

Did we miss something so transparent? Did we lose something we didn't know we had?

And yet, I am the one clinging to something I don't understand.

And you, your boat drifting off the shore,

too far away to swim to

and with no one in it.

Caught in the fog of

Time disappeared and now you

and i

on two

separate

coasts.

I wonder if you're there yet. And why you didn't say good bye.

2009-05-18T04:58:00.000-07:00

I would love to dance with you.

Someday.

Old

2009-05-08T07:17:00.001-07:00

That incredible human ear
with its empty caverns and canals
Interpreting emotion and connecting the sounds
Detecting changes in chords and getting lost in the sleep

If you die every time you sigh like this
I died so, so many years ago
Years before I was born
Back when you and I were still young

My bones creak
And cobwebs fill the corners of my eyes
Empty caverns are my irises
And my hands
they cannot close
Swollen joints

Intents

2009-05-02T14:52:00.001-07:00

I am a really bad person.

What does it mean when you look at me?

Twist

2009-05-02T14:28:00.000-07:00

Do you regret what you said
Or what you do?
Is that fear behind the fire
Or is it the embers fanning the flame?
Do you hate yourself for everything
All the kicking and gnashing of teeth
Or do you relish the very moments of it?
What makes this better- the sin
Or the saint?
Can you bear to look at me
Or is it too painful?
A lie or a truth?
Do you actually care for me at all
Or is this just too much fun for you to leave it all behind?
And where is God in all of this?
Is this your little dive into secularism,
Or is this a jaunt into fantasy?
Some flight on which I cannot remain,
Some journey in which I will be lost?
Am I something you cannot have
Someone you won't
Or the someone you've been waiting for?
I cannot decide for you. And I was over this a year ago.
One year. One year. One year.
And then it all fell apart.
Disappeared for months she said.
Wouldn't come back again she said.
I can finally regain my composure she said.
But in the midst of the confusion
I'm still looking for You
She said
Hunger hurts but starving works
When it costs too much to love

And all you see

2009-05-02T02:52:00.001-07:00

I am all the saddest songs.

I am cello;, I am strings.

I am the empty echo of a voice across the empty room

that lies between you and me.

I never know. I never know.

One, two, one, two,

Across a set of drums and lights,

I fell in love with you.

Focus, focus, focus.

These things don't come easy.

Just learn to breathe.

Ruins

2009-02-12T17:32:00.001-08:00

This Valentine's Day, I will be celebrating.

Not because I have a boyfriend (I don't). Not because I have a lover (I don't). Not even because I have a potential love interest (I don't).

I will be celebrating my absolute, undeniable, uncontrollable fear of falling in love.

Actually, let me scratch that.

Not even falling in love.

How about just letting someone else fall in love with me?

Let me clarify.

A long time ago, dearest Diary, I told you and the rest of the electronic world that I had a desperate fear of falling in love.

And now, I come before you, Public, again to tell you that I not only have a desperate fear of falling in love but of being in a relationship-- of letting someone else love me.

I don't know where this stems from; hopefully, the source will be revealed with further introspection. BUT, let me tell you how I learned the veracity of this pricking truth.

Recently, I ended a friendship on the grounds of the male friend being in love with me [whatever that means]. In my defense, I did it to save his poor little heart from bleeding everywhere when I would someday move on [for I, unfortunately, did not share his sentiment]. And because he said the only way he would stop loving me is if we were no longer friends, I decided for the both of us that the death of our friendship was the best and easiest way.

The other day, however, as I was talking this over with a close friend, I noticed the wheels in her head turning as she secretly psycho-analyzed me.

"What?" I asked. "What're you thinking?"
"Oh, nothing."
"No, tell me! Do you think I did it for other reasons?"
After some hesitation and deliberation, she said, "Well, I think YOU think you did it on unselfish grounds. But I think you also did it to protect yourself."

I thought about what she said. And granted, I already knew I was a commitophobe [commitment-phobe]. But then I began thinking about why I ended our friendship in the first place. It's not like we were actually in a committed relationship. And even if I felt like I was taking advantage of him or it wouldn't be fair to him or that someday he would be hurt [etc. etc. etc.], why did I panic so much about it?

I knew he wasn't MADLY in love with me. He loved me in his own way. So why the freak-out?

And I began thinking more about it. Typically, I start relationships eagerly and seek to end them just as eagerly a few weeks later. The moment I think someone I'm interested has more affection for me than I them, I lose all interest. And surely, I'm not just in it for the game...

Rather, I feel like once I KNOW I have them, the commitment becomes real. They're COMMITTED to me. And that TERRIFIES me.

But WHY? Hmmm... Well, I definitely don't see why ANYONE would like me THAT much. Maybe I fear being a disappointment. Or maybe I fear them being a disappointment. Maybe... maybe after someone actually loved me like that [the first time it happened] and then they left-- maybe my mind developed an aversion to that.

Ya know... I think it's because I feel like the moment I open my heart and love that person... they'll change their mind. And my heart, to combat that possible heartbreak [or even, trustbreak], automatically shuts down so I lose all attraction or feeling for that person.

And I can't help this. It just happens. Automatic. Reflex. Like their tenuous love approaches and the door of my heart [man, this metaphor sucks] just snaps shut.

With friends, I feel like this doesn't happen because the same level of risk isn't involved. But the fact that this happens completely out of my control leads me to believe that the only way I'll ever be able to BE with anyone is if God gives them some sort of special means of worming their way into my heart [again, the cheese! GAH, kattie!].

And as of right now, where I stand, that seems so impossible.

But that's not to say I would have loved so-and-so should they not have loved me. On the contrary, it'd be superficial infatuation. Until the fear kicked in, at which all would be revealed.

For all the lives I'll ruin,
For all the people I'll hurt,
I'm sorry.

Love ruins you.

2009-01-25T22:42:00.000-08:00

I am death.
I am destruction.

False

2009-01-19T19:12:00.000-08:00

I'm in a panic.

A furious, seething panic.

I want OUT.

I am death. I am destruction.

This was never meant to be.

Years

2008-12-31T17:01:00.000-08:00

I wish I wasn't such a coward. I wish I were brave and could stand my ground... sink further and further in this muck and really take it all in... absorb it into myself, my life, my identity, and be able to handle it so well that my adjustments would never harm a soul.

I wish I knew how not to hurt you. How not to make you cry... How to make you feel happy, confident-- like you really know me. I wish I knew how to tell you all of this without sounding weak or trite or that I'm lying.

I wish we were close. I wish we understood each other. I wish me coming home wasn't pointless. I wish my presence would lift you up rather than making you feel worse.

I wish I could be the person you want me to be. I wish I could forsake those things I hold so dear to make you happy.

I just want you to be happy.

And I know just want me to be happy.

So why are we so UNhappy?

I wish things weren't like this.

I wish I could affect change rather than stand here dumb and mute, though never deaf. I wish that I wouldn't break your heart. I wish that I could make it all better.

But that which you ask, I cannot give without dying to myself. And that death-- the death of me to me-- is already occurring. But I've been bought with a sinner's ransom, and you were not the one who paid.

So that which you ask... I cannot give you.

I just wish there were something I could do to make it all better. To make you happy, though I cannot give you what you want.

And that every time I leave, it wouldn't feel so much like I'm running away.

I wish I wouldn't run away. that I weren't such a coward. I wish we weren't so angry. I wish we could talk to one another without one of us getting so furious.

And I wish that I had some other way to release it other than your way or this coward's way. Complaining to no one listening; crying to no one but myself.

I know I can't keep running. I know I can't keep using religion as an escape. I know at some point, I have to stand and learn to breathe and live and fly in this muck or die. But for now, that iron lung that Christ has given me, running low because I'm supposed to be getting out not sinking in, that iron lung is running out. And one day I will have to face all of this.

All of what?

This... muck. This pain, anger, frustration, sugar-coated by love and obedience but never fully scraped clean or exposed.

Every hurt, every wound... just digs itself a little bit deeper.

How long will I run from such scars? How long will I let them fester? How long will I cling to religion as an escape even though I know I can't keep running?

You say... stay. Don't run. Take this all in; absorb it and learn to live with it.

Learn to live with misery.

And all I can do is shake my head over and over again. I can't; I can't.

How can I forgive? How can I forget?

No matter how many times you apply the balm, the wound re-cut will still re-open. How can I let those words bounce off like they don't mean a thing?

Dunk me seven times, because these wounds are not healing.
Dunk me seven times, because, My God, I am dying.

History

2008-12-21T20:56:00.000-08:00

Though I Caesar
Builder of an empire
Through imperative tricks
Conqueror of Gaul and slayer of substantial thousands
You Labienus
Left me on your principals
And I had to forge onward without you

And I Caesar
Commander of a legion
Against cast die
Wager and winner of an unsuspected Civil War
You Pompey
Fled from me across the seas
And I wept at the sight of you
For I never meant your death.

Yes I Caesar
Sovereign Queen
Over a people I loved
Fool besotted and ruler dictated lied in innocence
Yes you Brutus
Held a dagger for me within your folds
And I died unsuspecting
Wrecked by a crown I never wanted
Losing a you I had never found.

I took a Latin class this past quarter translating a bunch of Cicero's letters, and Caesar as a person fascinates me. As you read history and accounts of him, the character that emerges is complex and [in my opinion] devastatingly sad. I mean, his dear friend/ closest general Labienus left him. And he crossed the Rubicon with just one legion [most likely not suspecting Civil War] hoping for people to be there to be greeted with no one. And legend says he wept at the sight of Pompey's head, which I construe as his devastation at losing a worthy opponent [though Pompey was notorious for losing/ coming in a claiming victory]. AND THEN, Brutus, his BFF, helped assassinate him for the Republic. I mean, okay okay, principals, common good, whatever-- that still SUPER sucks! And I dunno... I guess I somewhat identify with Caesar when it comes to you because I felt so betrayed after what you did. Like I had trusted you so much and put so much hope in you... you were always my greatest opponent [though unlike Pompey, you aren't exactly known for taking credit for other's work]. And through so many of our trials, though in many ways I was the victor, I still feel like I was the greatest loser.

Fatal

2008-11-28T23:20:00.000-08:00

No.

No.

No.

No.

May or June.

May or June.

May or June.

I won't give in to you.

Feed

2008-11-22T00:43:00.000-08:00

Broken romances...

still make for good writing fodder

no matter how much you wish they wouldn't.

Lit Nerd

2008-11-21T03:35:00.000-08:00

These are the top 106 books most often marked as "unread" by LibraryThing's users. As in, they sit on the shelf to make you look smart or well-rounded. Bold the ones you've read, italicize the ones you own but have not read, and strike through the books that I probably wouldn't read if you bought me a copy and then hit me with a stick.

I went ahead and underlined books I want or want to read…

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

Anna Karenina [currently reading]

Crime and Punishment

Catch-22

One Hundred Years of Solitude

Wuthering Heights

The Silmarillion

Life of Pi : a novel

The Name of the Rose

Don Quixote

Moby Dick

Ulysses

Madame Bovary

The Odyssey

Pride and Prejudice

Jane Eyre

A Tale of Two Cities

The Brothers Karamazov

Guns, Germs, and Steel

War and Peace

Vanity Fair

The Time Traveler's Wife

The Iliad

Emma

The Blind Assassin

The Kite Runner

Mrs.Dalloway

Great Expectations

American Gods

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

Atlas Shrugged

Reading Lolita in Tehran

Memoirs of a Geisha

Middlesex

Quicksilver

Wicked : the life and times of the wicked witch of the West

The Canterbury Tales

The Historian : a novel

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Love in the Time of Cholera

Brave New World

The Fountainhead

Foucault's Pendulum

Middlemarch

Frankenstein

The Count of Monte Cristo

Dracula

A Clockwork Orange

Anansi Boys

The Once and Future King

The Grapes of Wrath

The Poisonwood Bible : a novel

1984

Angels & Demons

The Inferno

The Satanic Verses

Sense and Sensibility

The Picture of Dorian Gray

Mansfield Park

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

To the Lighthouse

Tess of the D'Urbervilles

Oliver Twist

Gulliver's Travels

Les Miserables

The Corrections

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

Dune

The Prince

The Sound and the Fury

Angela's Ashes : a memoir

The God of Small Things

A People's History of the United States

Cryptonomicon

Neverwhere

A Confederacy of Dunces

A Short History of Nearly Everything

Dubliners

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Beloved

Slaughterhouse-five

The Scarlet Letter

Eats, Shoots & Leaves

The Mists of Avalon

Oryx and Crake : a novel

Collapse : how societies choose to fail or succeed

Cloud Atlas

The Confusion

Lolita

Persuasion

Northanger Abbey

The Catcher in the Rye

On the Road

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Freakonomics : a rogue economist explores the hidden side of everything

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance : an inquiry into values

The Aeneid

Watership Down

Gravity's Rainbow

The Hobbit

In Cold Blood : a true account of a multiple murder and its consequences

White Fang

Treasure Island

David Copperfield

The Three Musketeers

Fear

2008-11-17T04:10:00.000-08:00

"I know this reflection is running on epic, but bear with me.

One student in particular stands out in all of this. He’s always getting into trouble; I’ve seen him scolded more than once by my CT, at times very harshly though not always for something he’s done. I’ve also definitely seen him in the Office answering for a referral. And yet, one time, I made this student laugh and through the laughter gotten him to complete an assignment. This same student since that day always smiles when he sees me and has offered me his seat on the 41 bus when he saw me standing. He works hard, and I can tell he desperately wants to prove that he’s not the “no good” kid everyone makes him out to be. In his letter, he wrote how he was held up at gunpoint. A kid’s world of safety shattered by a gun. A really great kid who was robbed of twenty bucks, punched in the arm, and now has to be afraid any time he’s in the park alone at night."

To continue this blurb from a journal I'm writing for a class,

if I ever EVER find out who you are, you college-age scumbags who did this to an innocent and REALLY GREAT kid,

you will not escape.

Worn

2008-11-15T21:56:00.001-08:00

Why can't we just run away? Just run away, run away?

I'm so tired. I'm tired of you. And you and you and you.

I'm tired of all these demands that rack my mind and body day in and day out. So many prepositions fulfilled and so little movement made.

So tired. Weary. Worn.

I'm tired of being social. Of keeping up with the Jones'. I'm tired of your withering approvals and your growing disapprovals.

To be honest,

in a false sort of way [because I'm too much of a coward to say this to your face],

I'm tired of you. Of so many of you.

I don't care about the things you care about anymore. I don't want the things you want anymore. We are very different-- you and I.

And I can't deal with your demands anymore. I can't keep trying to pretend to submit to you when there's someone else I'm now submitting to.

For a few years, you had a good hold of my life. But now, the hold is gone and it's taken away.

I wish you would just realize that and just stop trying to hold on.

I'm gone. Let me go.

Let me

go.

Barriers

2008-11-13T22:45:00.000-08:00

I Don't Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith still reminds me of you... And it always will.

Ain True Love, however, is too painful to regularly listen to... It was such a sad song to begin with but now it weighs too much.

I wonder how you're doing today and if you're happy.

Doors closed stay closed. But truthfully, I admit, I wonder what things would have been like had I decided to open them again for you.

We will never know.

Except

2008-10-26T16:44:00.000-07:00

You want me to listen to indie and know all the latest bands because that’s impressive and cool.
You want me to listen to metal and industrial because you think it’s good.

You want me to follow the crowd because when I'm different it attracts too much of the "wrong" attention.
You want me to be a pharmacist for the money.
You want me to be an activist because that's your scene and it should be mine too.
You want me to be a professor because a middle school teacher isn't good enough.
You want me to vote no on 4 and 8 because you believe it's right.
You want me to vote yes on 4 and 8 because you believe it's right.
You want me to vote because not voting means I'm not cool or I'm "a bad citizen."
You want me to dress like a prep because I'll look "clean" and kempt.
You want me to dress like a slut because that's racy and devious.
You want me to wear foundation because I could do with a little make-up.
You want me to wear eyeliner and dark lipstick because I look better with a bit of edge.

You want me to call because it tells you I care.

You want me to drink to get drunk because you think it'd amuse you or it'd be interesting for you to see.
You want me to be a vegetarian because you think everyone should but you won't impose your views on anyone so you'll just let me choose but you really, really, really would like me to consider it.
You want me to be an omnivore because it's a hassle for you to plan for anything else.
You want me to be a vegan because it, like being an activist, is so cool and such an alternative lifestyle.

You want me to keep quiet about things we disagree or when it means telling you something you don't want to hear.
You want me to be loud and obnoxious when it's funny.
You want me to curse because you’ve never heard me.

You want me to be your friend because you think it’ll up your cool factor.

You want me to be patient because you want me to listen though you won't take my advice.
You want me to be prude because anything else would make you uncomfortable.

You want me to be funny because it makes you laugh.
You want me to be charming because then everyone you introduce me to will love me.
You want me to be witty because that attracts you and gives you that burn of words you love.
You want me to be entertaining because you can't handle silences and stillness with me.
You want me to listen not because you don't care about what I have to say but because you care about what you have to say more.
You want me to be edgy and alternative because it fits the feel of our group better.
You want me to be fun because when I'm boring you don't know what to do or say to me.
You want me to be giving because you benefit more than when I take.
You want me to be second to you and your desires and your needs.
You want me to be first because you want me to win.

You want me to keep it superficial because you don’t really care to know me and you don’t really care for me to know you.

You want me to ask the hard questions because you don’t want to attract attention but you still want to talk about it.

You want me to be docile because it won’t challenge your authority.

You want me to be rebellious because then you won’t be alone.

You want me to be quirky because it keeps you entertained.

You want me to be a Christian that doesn't affect you.
You want me to be an Athiest because God doesn't exist.
You want me to be a Christian only if it'll affect you and everyone else in the world.

I'm sick of living by people's expectations.

Rambling

2008-09-26T23:24:00.000-07:00

I feel like I'm always giving.

Time. Energy. Conversation. "Wisdom" (or at least what everyone but me seems to consider as it). Encouragement. Love.

Just once. Once. I'd really like it if people would stop asking me for these things. If they could just... stop living in their small, compact worlds and for one second take a break and step outside of it all. If they could just see that what they consider so damningly important really... isn't.

I'm just really tired. Tired of the boyfriends that leave. Of the unfair treatment. Of the annoying or uncaring friends. Of the drama and foolishness. Of the petty arguments, the superficial hang-outs, the constant need for attention and love and coddling.

One of the reasons I like Diana so much is that she has so little drama that comes along with being her friend. I never have to hear stories of some guy. I never have to help her resolve her issues. She knows her stuff, and she knows she doesn't need my help. If she ever did, I could count on her to share. But she doesn't feed it to me like so many other people do. And that's kinda refreshing.

I'm just... tired. Tired of seeing all your emotional, social, and psychological problems being laid out on display. Tired of trying to see past all of your fronts to catch glimpses of the real you-- to try and truly understand who you are so I can help you... because that's really what everyone wants. Help. They never admit it.

But the reason you tell people your issues? your sexploits? your worries? Because you want to know they care. And that you're not alone. Or for the attention. The sympathy. Or to just be the non-conformist that's really just conforming to non-conformity. It's as stupid as it sounds.

I'm tired of being able to know how things will turn out before they really happen. Of having such a sense of things. Of being able to feel it.

I don't always know. And it's not exactly like it's defined. Not exactly like I can tell the future. But I have hunches. I can feel the flow of conversation in the air, and I know when I'm headed for a flopped joke or boring story-- even if I'm the teller. I can tell when you really aren't listening, and I can tell when you know that I'm not either.

I can tell your fake face from the real one, and I can feel your authenticity as you exude it. i can tell how situations will shape you, and depending on how well I know you or can read you, exactly how you will respond to what I say. I know what sense a story needs for you to accept it, and i know whether or not i can achieve that sense. sometimes i can't. sometimes i can. sometime i purposefully don't because i don't want to convince you. it's just not my place.

sometimes.

but really,

I'm tired of witnessing all of your BS. And I'm tired of feeding it right back to you so you can continue in your happy, comfortable bubble. because i know that if i really told you the truth-- exactly what i think and know-- well, you'd probably deny it. but i'd be right because i can see these spider-strings too well. but if you don't deny it, you probably would be mad or upset by it.

but provoking you for such small, inconsequential reasons is rather petty.

but really,

I'm tired of working the crowd, pleasing everyone, and working so hard just so you can be happy. Of saying just the right things at just the right times in just the right way so everyone can be comfortable. of being the shining, happy, golden child campaigning for cheers and good laughs because HEY, who doesn't want a good laugh?

i just want to know reality. i'm so ready to let this life go.

i just want to know reality. people who are real. life that is real.

no more superficial, petty squalor.

but,

why.
why bother.

i mean,

so what if you get mad? if i hurt your feelings? if i make you feel unwanted, unloved? unappreciated? uncomfortably exposed?

so what?

so many people like being around me. like being with me. like being my friend. they like hanging out with me. eating with me. getting coffee with me. i always get the "you're such an amazing friend" line. the "amazing person" line. the "________" lin.

wanna know why?

Because i am a master at pleasing people and utterly ignoring myself. because, and admittedly it changes and varies depending on the situation and need, i am a genius at placing your needs above my own. at being perfectly caring, loving, giving, coddling. because i have it almost down to a science where i can see your needs and give exactly what you're looking for. a crying shoulder. an understanding ear. a compassionate compatriot. a harsh talking-to. a gentle rebuff. an apathetic nod.

i may have "helped" you with your problems. encouraged you. loved you. heard you and whatever burden you have had to bear. but ultimately at what cost to myself? my sanity? or even

my vanity? my own selfish pride?

empathy. empathy. empathy.

empathy. empathy. empathy.

when all your friends are depressed. negative. angry. bitter. cracked out. frustrated. abusive.

empathy. empathy. empathy.

that is all i have.

...

i'm tired of being able to understand.

...

but maybe that's the point.

i prayed for this. i got it. i am God's answered prayer and proof of His divine providence.

"Close my eyes so my heart can see."
"Give me wisdom."
"Give me understanding."

And so it was.

But if I can barely even bear this,

how much worse was it for God who knows, sees, and understands all? If my heart breaks this much for just the state of everything,

how much more does God suffer? does God feel?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the craziest of them all.

the last words a grandson will say to his grandfather.

2008-09-13T21:09:00.000-07:00

A close family of friends' grandfather died last night. I've known their family for ages, and I might've even met the grandfather. But last night, he died.

I always choose not to say passed away because that phrase seems too quiet, so frail, so weak. But when a loved one dies, it is anything but. And while I may not have known him enough to love him, I do know people who did.

And one of them, someone I barely knew, wrote down the last words he said to his grandfather.

Beauty is a poem crafted out of last words structured more like a scene from a movie, a snapshot in time, a glimpse of fragile reality than eloquent soliloquies or monologues. Beauty is seeing the hope and need and pain and tragedy someone suffers... all through the simplicity of their words. Beauty is knowing the outcome of this tragedy and knowing the whole time while reading the past what will happen in its future. Beauty is seeing someone's soul poured out in twenty lines or less. Beauty is seeing yourself echoed in someone else's soul. Death. Pain. Tragedy. Complexity wrapped up in simple ideas that black-line the grey and collect the scatter of emotions. I wish I could share this poem with you, but I don't know how he would feel about it, and I'm too embarrassed to ask. But I know that when I read this poem, his reality came into focus in front of me, and for split seconds, I could see what he saw, hear what he heard, feel what he felt. And my tears broke and my heart fell.

Beauty is loss-- unalterable, final, real

loss.

an old woman working it out

2008-09-13T20:54:00.000-07:00

This is a few days late, but...

I think God shows us something beautiful every day... to remind us of who He is and what He provides. So, whenever something strikes me as beautiful... I'm going to record it in here.

This past Friday, the 12th:

I was standing at the bus stop looking around and people watching when I saw this old woman crossing the road. Beauty is an old woman probably in her 70s or 80s wearing shades, a tank, running shorts, and power-walking across the road, shimmying her skinny arms and pumping her skinny legs. Beauty is her going no faster than I do when I walk, but for every step she takes, she steps one step closer to immortality. She is a healthy heart, lungs of fresh air, a steady, rhythmic pulse. Beauty is an old woman living like she's young, rolling her old joints as if they've been greased and have been going since the dawn of time. Unstopping and unstoppable, Beauty is an old woman fighting death with running shoes, punching the air with wizened hands as she steps, steps, steps and breathes with every breath, breath, breath. She is the unending pendulum, the rounds of the seasons, the eternity of Life. Someday she may lose this battle against Death-- sad, yes, but true. But even post-mortem when she is dead and gone, I will still see her spindly legs gunning her across the street at the pace of a strolling youth. She is, through me, immortal. This woman will never die.

Beauty is an old woman determined, working out her body, and living well beyond our years.

Restrictions

2008-09-06T12:02:00.000-07:00

I didn't say this, but I thought it was hilarious... I'm also roughly paraphrasing so forgive me.

"The reason I don't go for Christian guys is because I believe that they all already have their perfect, white, blonde, stick-skinny girlfriends that sing in the worship band and play the flute or the triangle who are always going to Africa to feed the little children and want to adopt a child from every possible third-world country out there."

Funny because it's true.

Whispers

2008-08-24T03:47:00.000-07:00

"I used to know know to leave the boy behind
Without having to watch him go."

Shut Up and Let Me Go

"Wait. They don't love you like I love you."

"Do you know what it's like to care too much
'bout someone that you're never gonna get to touch?
Hey, man, now you're really livin'."

You will always be my Edward Cullen. Tragic. Ideal. Fictional.

Ghost,
on the days you visit me still,
I deny your presence with a bold-faced grin.

But in secret,
I had missed you.

Reminds me that I still can feel, even if just

a ghost.

Clarity

2008-08-17T13:09:00.000-07:00

Somewhere along the line,

all those stone walls I spent my time building,
all those callouses I spent my time hardening,
all those cuts I spent my time healing,

all got broken down, pushed aside, and cut back open.

Life is nowhere near easy or clear or even clean.

We are messy, sloppy, and murky cesspools trying to see past the muck of each other into something that will finally ring like crystal.

But maybe there's nothing that clean in Life after all. What if there's nothing to hope for? What if perfection doesn't exist? What if Jesus Christ is only a beautiful idea made to placate the masses? If the Holy Spirit is nothing more than a way to dig deep down into ourselves to tap into powers we've forgotten we have? If Abba, Father, is really just the perfect Dad because there's no other way we'd ever really get one?

What if it's all a lie?

And all the stone walls, the hardened callouses, the lemon-juice cuts are there not because we can't live fully without the lies but because we need them to live at all?

Maybe. Maybe.

But maybe they're real. There's just enough margin to let them be. Just enough for them to eternally be. Real.

Maybe Jesus Christ really did come to save the world. Maybe the Holy Spirit lives in each of us, waiting to be awakened and to receive us. Maybe Abba, Father, is waiting for us to come home. Maybe He searches the road every day, every moment, and mourns at night at our never-coming return.

Maybe we think they're lies because all the stone walls, all the callouses, all the lemon-juice cuts are better than being disappointed. Are better than faith and trusting and hoping and believing that deep down, a diamond exists in all our coal. Because if we honestly believe that... then our hearts really could be broken.

2008-07-15T23:15:00.000-07:00

White Fang was my favorite book for years... Why?

Hmm... I dunno. I think that part of it was due to my infatuation with the English language [something that also should be looked at] as well as the fact that WF was the first real piece of literature I ever read.

Another thing I really related to was the idea of survivalism. It's a simple enough idea to understand as a kid but a complex enough idea to provoke interesting thought. For some reason, wilderness stories really fascinated me as a kid. Part of it was independence-- I really value independence and being functional despite isolation.

Maybe that's why I set myself up as an island. I think I really try to separate myself from others, and I attempt to be as independent as possible. I don't think I've ever depended on anyone before [at least not in an emotional sense]. The closest I've come to depending on anyone emotionally were my parents, my first love, and God. My parents in some ways failed me. They didn't quite love me they way I wanted them to [kudos to them on their part, because if they did, I'd most likely be a spoiled brat]. My first love was a definite disappointment, and I think my experience with him only reinforced this separatist notion that tells me to be invulnerable, stoic, and independent.

I think a part of me also really related to this idea of being trusting and losing trust found in WF. This definitely relates to my separatist feelings, and it probably lends itself to why I'm so distrusting of people now. After all, people disappoint.

I depended on God for value, strength, love, life. And really, that's the happiest and most content I've ever been. It's just that now I wonder if I believe because of those things (because of the things He's done for me (which seems really rather lame)) or if I truly believe in God and want to love God simply because He is God.

Anyway, to go onward, I can see how this separatist vein has run through my entire life. Always a wall. (actually, add my best friend to the list of people I've trusted with my heart) And when the wall was opened for another, it was always a disappointment [not to say I've never been a disappointment myself].

So where do I draw the line for this separatism?? Where do I just break down walls and open up my fresh heart for anyone who's willing to take a stab?? A bite? When do I stop trying to guard myself and allow people in??

Maybe I won't. Maybe this is part of who I am. Maybe I'm just an island only reachable by the big boat of God. That's not to say I don't love others... I think it's possible to love others without letting them fully love you. I mean, you could say that part of love is opening yourself up to hurt. And that real love means connecting yourself completely with another...

But maybe that's what marriage is for. And maybe I won't take that commitment. Maybe I like being an island.

But maybe to love deeply is to hurt deeply. Granted, I hurt deeply... yeah. But I dunno. Maybe you can be hurt deeply by loving deeply. But maybe loving deeply doesn't always entail hurt...?

But I guess that's where God comes in. The only love you can invest yourself in where the hurt would all be "worth it." I put the quotes because this is still something I'm figuring out for myself currently.

And we come back again to this question: how much do you allow yourself to open up?

I think I also am very open about myself as a defense mechanism. Because if I'm open to everyone, I'll have no secrets to spill, no lies to reveal, nothing that could possibly valued enough to be taken away or abused.

But there are things I hide... I think what I hide is what I truly feel. How much I really care. Or how much I really don't. What I really think. How much I really hurt.

Because if no one knows, no one can ask or take advantage of it. No one can use it against me. And I think our feelings, our true beliefs are the utmost of our core. And these I definitely keep a secret... perhaps so secret I myself have to seek them out. And I keep them so secret [like this blog itself] as to protect myself.

SO, more conclusions: I am typically very open about what's going on in my life [unless I think it's going to do more harm than good telling it to someone]. I'm open about my religious and political beliefs [well... religion i'm open about if i think it will change someone's mind about it or if i think it matters to someone. politics i tend to keep under wraps for the sake of peace... or to retain some respect. interesting dynamic. we'll have to come back to this]. I'm open about what I feel or think about more abstract or even more solid things... foods, movies, songs, etc etc etc.

BUT, I am closed about how I TRULY feel about people. Well, not even closed. Guarded. Guarded about what I value in them or don't. Also VERY guarded about how I portray my own sexuality. Guarded in how much of my personal pain I share [unless it does less harm letting everyone know]. Guarded in what I value from others in general.

So, to go back to interesting subjects: Why be open about religion and not politics?? Well, I think of religion as more of a set of moral values. Politics I feel are more influenced by how and where you're brought up. Which religion you choose [or don't] says a lot about who you are and what you think. So I guess I reveal it to create a very certain image of myself. Or to expose who I "am" to others. But politics... while it does show others in some way what you value also shows others more about how you were raised.

For instance, for awhile I was very liberal. This arose from compassion with others. When I was liberal, I was very open about my beliefs. I think this is because it 1) set me apart from the crowd and 2) allowed me to stand on the soapbox for humanity and preach all the oppressed's needs. Then, when my political beliefs began to shift [they're currently a hodgepodge with some still not fleshed out [which I should do in another post]], i began to share my political stance less. Hmmm... perhaps because I shifted them to something I felt was more risky or to stuff I even understood less.

Like, abortion. I'm pro-Life because I believe if God has created a life in you, that's that. But I used to be pro-Choice due to how it works in the Constitution. This latter decision I can defend with the Constitution and what's constitutional. But the first?? Well, it's religion-oriented. Morals-oriented. It's far more personal. I guess that explains why I don't speak outwardly about it. More of a risk.

Other ones would be gay rights and stem-cell research.

What a mess of beliefs I don't even know. Guess this should be explored more extensively in another post.

But anyway, another interesting conclusion is how guarded I am about my sexuality. For this, I can only guess that... Well, the only time I indulged myself in my sexuality, I came very close to breaking someone's heart. Well, I did. But more or less, I came close to abusing someone and using them for self-gain.

And that's NOT okay. So I guess I keep my sexuality under-wraps, closely guarded and closely suppressed, so something like that will never happen again. I could never forgive myself if it should. I know very little, but one thing I do know is that I am vehemently against using others for self-gain, no matter what kind of gain.

More conclusions: I keep religion/ politics guarded when I need to portray a specific image or when I want to challenge the image people want to see from me [i guess i have a rebellious/ nonconformist streak?]. But I value religion more than politics because I see it more as a personal choice [or really as something far more personal] than politics, which I see as usually developing on how you grew up.

But I think overall the sum of beliefs and emotions are what make a person's core. Different things define this core, but I think I'm fairly defined by these things.

My emotions I keep guarded as to keep myself safe from others' involvement in my life/ development. I isolate myself as to not only be independent/ survive [wow... that's rather harsh/ brutal] but to keep emotionally safe. To never risk losing anyone [hence why people typically like me...] and only risk being hurt on the inside [this works in the sense that even though people can hurt my "feelings" they can never hurt me to the point of changing my "core" of emotions/ thoughts]. Basically, it allows me to love someone without letting them change me. It allows me to make decisions independent of what others think, and it gives me a chance to care about someone/ do things for them without really putting my heart on the line.

And all this back to the root of White Fang... isn't that crazy?

2008-07-15T19:39:00.000-07:00

I'm Yours by Jason Mraz...

Why do I like this song?? There's something a little sad about it... "God-forsaken right to be loved, love, love." Also, something about going forward with love, simple and sweet... there's something beautiful in that. And the idea of just being at peace with everyone and just loving everyone... Of going on through the pain and just bearing the agony of truth in this world. Or maybe the truth of agony??

Something like that.

I guess I'm into the tragic.

Something else I realized today. I live with two girls who're loud, fun, and crazy. But something that always puts me on edge around them is how little they notice the world around them. Not to say they're inconsiderate or close-minded. Not really. It's more that they... they see what's in front of them. But there's a level they hit that they don't surpass beyond that. And I think on some level they fail to understand others. It's not that they don't try to consider them or think of how they feel...

But being inconsiderate is very different from being understanding.

I think the other group of girls I lived with... the ones from first and second year-- they're far more the understanding type. And I think that's something I really love about them and what I really take in from them. It gives me more of a sense of belonging-- not just because they're seeking to understand me but because I, like them, seek to understand others.

The problem with being understanding, however, is that to be truly understanding, one must forsake oneself and become that other person. To truly be in that other person's shoes, you need to think, feel, and orient yourself to the world as like them as possible. And I think that this, for me, is not only a gift/ blessing but also a curse. Along some lines, I have to stop understanding and start taking a stand for what I think. I think that this is also one of the reasons why I lose myself in others so easily. Because I'm always taking on different roles and faces and personas as to better understand them, I'm constantly losing the real me.

Which, i guess, is why I'm writing all of this down. To know and see the real me. Why I'm analyzing the songs that speak to me. The poems. The people. Everything.

There's so much in the world that I can respond to... responses that tell me about who I am and what I value.

Hardship. Anger. Passion. Tenderness. Self-sacrifice. Christianity. Agnosticism as I define it... The latter two something I need to explore in a separate blog entirely.

One other thing I know about me today. That I long for truth. That I long to know the truth. That I desperately want to see the reality of the world, no matter how cold or brutal or beautiful or judgmental it is.

This is what it's like to say so many things and mean nothing. To say so many nothings and mean something.

Pleonasm chasm.

2008-07-14T21:31:00.000-07:00

I am the naked dancer shooting the officer down.

2008-07-14T21:17:00.000-07:00

I. One person in her singular form so blind to who she is and what she believes that she's willing to coddle any one person she loves in whatever way they wish all for the sake of keeping the peace.

I. Want to know where I stand, what I stand for, what I love, why I love.

I. Am done being a nothing easily influenced and swayed by the everythings around me.

I. Will not allow this to continue any longer.

I am a woman of resolution about myself. When I say I will do something that involves myself, I do it.

A fast. A fall. A fury. A crime. If I commit to doing it, I do it.

The greatest advice I thought at one time was to know thyself. But I've forgotten myself. I've lost myself in a sea of nameless faces and personalities.

I lost her among those I love, and I wonder how many of them yet saw the real me.

Twice before I've had to do this when my life was coming to a point of disaster. Again I will do this.

Not to avoid disaster. But to see where I stand amid the ruin.

God, help me. God, find me. God, save me.

God, who are you?

Maybe you're around me, and I've known you all along. I have breathed you in and always sung your songs from my heart. Maybe my heartbeat is the song you are.

Or maybe you don't exist at all.

Despair. Danger. Death. No you.

Every day a step closer to knowing who I am now. Every day a step closer to being who I once was.

Every day. I.

To the Core

2008-07-14T20:52:00.001-07:00

I am the naked dancer who shot the officer down.

Thin Ice

2008-05-23T11:01:00.000-07:00

I saw this advertisement on facebook headed "Don't let yourself go" followed by a small picture. This picture was focusing from mid-chest down some girl with a hot-pink crop-top , bare stomach/ abs, and a hint of hip bones. Tan. Hint of ribs. Nice rack.

And following this picture was "I almost let go too. Learn about how I saved myself and the product that helped me."

...

There are a lot of things I want to say about this, most of them involving the F-bomb.

But in more G-rated terms [er, PG],

Society is a contradiction that I despise. News stories and all sorts of media aimed at women depict anorexia and bulimia in such a way as to show the people who have it as crazy or depressed or scarily ON THE EDGE.

And yet those same modes of media will advertise crap like this ad or other weight-loss products [diet pills, SUPER green tea, Oprah's Method, whatever] or even simply focus on women showing JUST the right amount of skin so you can see their super-ripped abs, their fake tans, their angular hip bones, etc. They offer just enough suggestion to say, "If you don't look like this, you aren't thin enough."

And that same medium of media DARES to depict people with anorexia or bulimia as fools and ask where it comes from.

Really? REALLY?!?! Because last I checked [insert Women's Magazine here], you mostly featured thin women as models and carriers of beauty.

And really [random company], BEING FAT should be equated to DEPRESSION?!?!?!

That in itself is disgusting to anyone who has ever even been through or witnessed depression. How DARE you downplay the agony of the psyche in depression and up-play the horror of BEING FAT.

Not even BEING fat. HAVING fat.

"Learn about how I saved myself and the product that helped me."

SWEET GOODNESS. If you're fat, you should feel like you want to commit suicide???

I wish I could go up to the morons that created this ad and say, "Ya know... it's a pity this ad isn't you and that you couldn't just kill yourself over the pain of your expanding waistline."

SERIOUSLY.

You're the reason why so many of my friends have suffered. You're the reason behind every tear that has ever been cried by a girl because she so desperately wishes she were thin. You're the reason why thousands of women everywhere think, "If I'm thin enough, I'll be finally be happy." You're the liars that dare to even place your filth in my presence.

If I ever meet ANY of you, I will DEFINITELY let you have a piece of my mind.

You're the reason why Asian parents tell their daughters "you're so fat" unless they're pencil thin. You're the reason why men think that skinny is the norm and fat is the God-forsaken Hellhole Pit of all women. You're the reason why women feel the same.

I hate you.

I hate the media. I hate society. And MOST of all, I hate these developed expectations being forwarded by these two machines-- expectations that are not only FALSE but DEGRADING. I will NEVER EVER be a size 3 or 4 or 5. And if I were to be, I would not only be DISGUSTINGLY thin and emaciated, but I basically would have to EAT WATER for the rest of my life.

A fitting thing would be to hunger strike about this, mail out photos of my emaciated form to ALL major advertising companies and dieter's products companies, and as I take my last breath, record a video blaming them for my death.

What'd be even better is if I had names.

And then, I hope they would burn and die of shame. No, really.

So, to recap on why I hate this ad and just spent 20 minutes ranting and raving about foulness of media and how I despise it with every fiber of my being:

1. it's degrading to women and reinforces false expectations for men,
2. it completely and utterly makes a mockery of depression.

Perhaps another fitting punishment would be for me to put on 500 lbs, find each of them, and proceed to sit on each person until they confess under torture the pain they put women through.

Personally, I think the dying-of-starvation one better.

I am not a nice person.

Ghost

2008-05-20T22:55:00.001-07:00

A year ago, I thought I would be in love with you forever.
A year ago, I couldn't even get through a single day without thinking about you.
A year ago, you still haunted the smallest and darkest corners of my memory.

No matter how many times I had tried to exorcise myself of you,
you were always there.

Like the faintest whispers of a

ghost.

A year ago, I still listened to all of our old songs.
A year ago, I still tortured myself with racking thoughts of you.

Memories.
Whispers.

And while you have made quite the dent along my shoreline,

a year ago is a year ago.

These days, I forget to check for your messages.
These days, I forget that you're still alive.
These days, I can't even remember the last time I thought of you.

These days,

I've let go of the dream that was me and you and have come to understand that all that teenage melodrama and heartache and true [because, yes, it was still true] love was really just a painful and necessary learning experience all along the shoreline of life.

These days,
I have no more questions.

And these days,

the doors are closed.

Ghost,

I never needed to exorcise you at all.

All I ever needed was Time.

My Sphere

2008-05-05T21:47:00.000-07:00

A million different profiles, each one advertising the flesh.

Virtual prostitutes with angled mug shots crying out for attention with clever portraits framing the physical . Quick little blurbs attempting to convey attitudes or interests-- disinterests. A million song lines and poorly written poems all about heartbreak and loveloss.

A million different women trying to leave their mark indelible on a mind, distasteful to the norm but not enough for the hungry. A byline, a pick-up line, a hook-and-line.

Anything to keep them around.

We decry years of oppression. We are suffragettes. Betty Friedan. A Declaration of the Rights of Woman.

And yet here we are pandering for the livelihood of a male-created, male-supported, male-rewarded system of affection through the price of sexual appeal. Assault on the eyes.

From the coquette to the tourniquet, we bind ourselves to the motto that ever-present physicality is where it's at, and the values of brains and humor and that ever-trite word of "personality" are really nothing at all.

Well, they mean something to the ugly girls.

For every snapshot showing a little skin, coming off a little lusty, generating a little sexy, we demote ourselves to be seen a sexual objects in need of affirmation and desire. No matter what words we speak with our mouths and what feminists we worship with our praises, we come to nothing as we sell ourselves for such.

As we downplay the inner qualities that develop for those without, we sink a little bit into our own image-driven prisons, dens, beds.

Mon hypocrite lecteur,
do you see now what I mean?

Not a feminist rant or even a call for change.

Merely noting the stark reality of women losing themselves in attempts to be found. But sadly, never by the One they want.

Other Ways

2008-04-24T21:12:00.000-07:00

Whenever I hear this song, I see focusing and unfocusing in sepia

the love story of two people.

I see the books they've read,
how they were as children,
adolescents,
young marrieds,
and grown so old.

I can see their sadness,
their strength,
their pain,
and their love.

I see old silver cameo lockets on long chains,
Lace tablecloths and curtains,
Wooden chests with crystal knobs,
embroidered handkerchiefs.

Folded hands and feet.

I see the loss in their eyes,
every wrinkle,
every burdened line.

Unmade sheets,
Homemade breakfasts,
Routine undisturbed for years and years.

Every dusty volume upon dusty volume upon dusty volume.

Unspoken words and unseen kisses made all the sweeter by their secrecy.

I see a love story deeper than time flowing within the notes of a song.

It was all play. How could it be any other way?

Un-aware

2008-04-18T23:40:00.000-07:00

You have no idea what you do to me.

One time

2008-04-10T23:04:00.000-07:00

Radiohead
Daft Punk

Bother bother bother bother

2008-04-07T06:51:00.000-07:00

It's always more fun to fantasize about something than to realize that there's nothing.

Bother.

Catch

2007-12-09T01:03:00.000-08:00

I've just spent the last couple of hours updating my mySpace.

it's funny how much can change in a few years... one year... a few months...

less trite [more jaded? no.]. less scatter-brained [haha]. less... of a child.

but i still refuse to believe that i'm growing up. growed up. grown up.

i dunno. i'm probably even going to change the header box for this blog. not that any of you would care-- after all, how many of you are there? none?

thought so.

just my own empty little space to fill with empty little thoughts that no one will ever read. and it's kind of nice that way...

though truth be told, i've left a good enough trail that CERTAIN people could find me if they would so choose. not sure i'd be opposed to them finding me, come to think of it.

i've always wondered what happened to him since those many, many months ago... which was the last time we spoke of anything relevant to either of our lives.

the other times... all arguing and politics and gnashing of the teeth.

what a silly ninny i've been before... laughing to myself and telling jokes all for my own amusement.

eye twitch.

i haven't written a truly LONG post in a very long time... i used to write epics, you know. lengthy epics that would put melville to shame.... not only because of their length, but anyone would be ashamed to have read something so poorly written.

but at least they were amusing.

i wonder if i'll ever truly stop blogging. i hate that word. blog. what an ugly word.

i wonder i i'll ever truly stop journaling. i love journaling. recordings of thoughts and days... and dreams. [forgive me... perhaps not all of my triteness has disappeared.]

why do i write? i write because i feel this need... this inner urge to expound to anyone who will listen my life and musings... not because they're great or revolutionary... but because it simply feels better just to have everything down on... hmm... well, certainly not paper. inexistent lines of electronic computations?

i suppose.

just good to get everything out in the open. to air myself out. to

breathe.

these thoughts come in fragments, disconnected, like clips from different movies.

i've said that more than once.

today my aunt made an argentinean dinner... my cousin had come into town with her boyfriend. i brought along a friend. my uncle's cousins were there.

it was a good meal. afterwards, my friend and i went to go get

doughnuts.

simply because we wanted them.

not many other people can say they did that today. true it wasn't extraordinary or even fascinating, but not many other people can say it.

maybe a few.

it'd be funny if we were to meet and talk about our days previous to meeting and it'd turn out that we were doing the same thing except... differently.

Fluke.

I think all that poetry has gone to my head.

Tell Prufrock I would have loved him had he only left his room and taken the initiative. tell prufrock he lost his chance. tell prufrock that it all would have meant something.

in the end.

in the beginning, God was. and now He is. and tomorrow, He will be.

tomorrow, I will be working hard upon an essay. perhaps the reason i am so peculiar right now [alluding to poets and talking of God and writing to no one] is because it is so late.

or perhaps it is because i'm trying to impress you.

yes, definitely the latter.

but you will not be impressed by my words.

Many men have fallen in love with the words of my pen. But the words of my mouth have failed them. And the words of [triteness again] my heart? They never yet heard them at all.

All but one had never yet heard them. And the one that has-- where is he today? Perhaps he is nowhere... nowhere at all. Except sitting alone in his room wondering what would have happened had he simply left.

Teas and ices. Teas and ices.

It all started with one break, one word: breathe.

My chest is cold. Even though I'm wearing a sweater, the cut is too low for my chest to be kept warm. What use is a sweater if it doesn't do its job?

V for Vendetta. Almost-- I almost saw the whole picture. But then it slipped away from me.

Incoherent nonsense put up to impress a nonchalant someone who really could probably care less.

Careless. Undoubtedly figured out and wrought out for ruin.

Rot.

I hate the ads Myspace and so many other sites online have. The banner ads... with the people dancing or cars blinking. Even worse are the ones with noise.

If I wanted some sort of jarring, cacophonous sound playing, i'd go listen to some bad music. but CLEARLY, i do not want that sound, much less whatever you're selling.

and i know what you're trying to sell. that you're the answer, my one-and-only, my heart's desire.

well, spare me. i've already dealt with one sleazy salesman who [triteness again] stole my heart... i certainly don't need another one. especially one so noisy and displeasing as you.

Blogger will save your posts, even if your internet comes to ruin... which mine did.

But the power outage that ended my myspace escapade was a blessing in disguise. i finally went to bed.

and so... here i am... to finish what i started.

i don't want what you're selling. i don't want your empty words that mean nothing at the end of the day. i don't want your empty promises, your empty smile, your handshake that hides all your lies and deception.

i'm through with you.

today is Sunday morning. and i have a paper to write.

Breathe

2007-10-30T19:57:00.001-07:00

I'm at a turning point in my life...

Every time I get to this place, I can feel my life taking a deep breath and holding it in... afraid to let it go in anticipation of the future.

2007-09-09T17:22:00.000-07:00

In two weeks, I leave. I go home.

And I feel a little sad about that.

And I'm a little nervous about the impending living situation. After some tiffs about the way rent was being split up, my roommate and i decided to forfeit our argument... and to be honest, i feel a little like we're getting the short end of the stick.

but c'est la vie, no?

and as for the whole Jesus situation... i don't even know. Like, I guess I have answers to all of my questions... but I just feel so inadequate... so not good enough. Such insecurities about what I'm set out to do... that I worry.

And I know that it's all to make me depend more on God... but it's so hard, ya know? Because it's like... why isn't it like it was before? When I felt all roly-holy and good enough and confident... I guess maybe that's why. But even when I knew that Christ was the answer and that He was my reason... but maybe I felt like even if that was the case, a part of it all was just about me??

But I feel like... if I'm being so devoted to Him, why isn't this change happening faster? Why am I still the way I am? Why is it SO hard for me to control my mouth now? SO hard for me to control my temper?

The Demon working against me... trying to bring down God's glory... that and it'll make me lean more on Him...

i know, i know, i know. i feel like i have all the textbook answers.

but it's just this feeling... this inward suffering that sucks. and granted, i've got more clarity. and i'm slowly getting used to this.

but how come the me that serves Jesus can't be the roly-holy me that I feel like makes a better impression for Him? why's it got to be the crappy me that's petty and selfish and ill-willed?

i mean, not to say i live two different lives. but it seems since i really became a Christian two years ago, i've been either the roly-holy me or the lame me... usually leaning toward one or the other. and i don't understand why i'm not the roly-holy me... or why i can't become it as easily as i have in the past...

and the fact that i can't get to that point in my spiritual walk, especially after this summer, worries me. and makes me scared and insecure. and i know the textbook answer is to trust in Him and just trust in the fact that He'll make me the way He wants me to be...

but I just have this awful feeling of utter inadequacy....

I dunno. I'm scared.

Fooled

2007-08-13T18:57:00.001-07:00

I never cease to be amazed by how horribly people misunderstand Christianity and define Christianity by Christians.

It's like defining the idea of democracy by the United States... Or Islam by terrorists. Or any philosophy by the people putting it into practice.

People decry ignorance every day, but rather than seeking the truth, so often those same decriers will push forward in their own narrow-mindedness and ignorance.

Disenchanted?

Sadly, very.

Confession

2007-07-09T14:39:00.000-07:00

So, I was really convicted the other day in church about something.

Earlier this year, I found a facebook group called "Don't mess with us; we're from the EC."

And I basically left a message on the wall saying how everyone from east cobb is superficial, materialistic, and racist... in so many words. It wasn't as blunt, but it was pretty much just as cruel. And, as you can guess, a LOT of people got mad about that.

But they weren't mad about being superficial or materialistic. They were FURIOUS that someone called them racist. And a lot of people wrote me different messages, most of them proving just how bigoted they were. Some of them wanted to flesh out the politics of it with me. And others just wanted to tell me how NOT racist they were.

And to be honest, I still hold the opinion that I held those many months ago. But it was so hard at the time I was writing all those messages back and forth because I had to explain 80+ times what institutionalized/ systemic/ systemized racism was... that AND defend my viewpoint. Plus, when I wrote the original "mean" message, I did do it with an intent to incite. And on some level, stir up trouble.

But anyway, the reason I'm writing this is because the other day I was really convicted in church when George Wright was asking what, if our life ended tomorrow, would our lives say about us?? And I realized that I didn't want to stand before God and have Him ask me, "KT... where was the love that I've given you? How were you being a witness to these people?"

Do I believe what I was saying was true on some level? Yes. But the way I said it was wrong.

And I was just reminded of a verse that I read today, "However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me-- the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace." Acts 20:24.

And I think all of us have that purpose in a way. To testify to His Grace. And I didn't do that.

So, to make right, I rejoined the group, wrote an apology and a clarification/ better way of saying what I meant, and left.

For me, this was REALLY humbling. Basically because I'm super-proud and it's always really hard for me to admit that I'm wrong. But I was just SO convicted, ya know? Our pride doesn't matter and our life on earth doesn't matter except that it be for the glory of He who Reigns.

SO-- I just wanted to share what I learned today: no matter how humbling or shaming-- if you're wrong, you're wrong. Say sorry. For even when Christ had NOTHING to say sorry for, he died as a criminal.

God Bless.

Drunk

2007-05-28T03:38:00.001-07:00

For a moment, I thought about all the parties I was missing out on. The ragers. The all-night keggers. The house parties with dance floors full of sex. The empty upon empty bottle of beer and endless games of beerpong I would never win. The boys I'd never make-out with and all those "funny" pictures that would never be posted on Facebook- embarrassment and feigned shock not included.

For a moment, I wondered if I was missing out on all of that. If by not participating, I was somehow losing a part of the "college experience." You know... that college experience everyone loves to talk and brag about.

"Yeah, man! I'm gonna get [expletive] TRASHED! WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

All those trashy outfits I'd never buy, much less wear. All those times I could've used alcohol as an excuse to do something I'd never do otherwise...

Was I missing out? Was it all REALLY that fun?

Was I somehow missing those "meaningful" conversations and the ensuing drama that comes from a "wild" party? How sad.

Yet... somehow, I don't think so. I don't really feel like I've lost anything or that I'm losing something I should have.

Sorry, but I was over this stage by 17. College came too late, and dignity too early.

Turn

2007-05-20T05:35:00.000-07:00

...
...
...
...
...
...

Have you ever felt your heart ripped up on paper?
Have you ever heard so many words and wondered if you could believe a word of them?

Have you ever thought that those words which you said were so whispered that I just couldn't believe them?

I wonder if you think that I wear my heart so on my sleeve.
I wonder if you think
that the explanation you gave was okay.

I'm not mad.
But if the talk had never happened? If I had never chanced to see it?

...

How many words have you whispered behind the privacy of a closed door shut at my back?
How many words have you whispered about me and how many of them have you mentioned to me?

...

How could you be so angry at me and not even give me a chance to defend myself? Like the chance I gave to you?
If I had said nothing, would you have let our friendship go?
If I had said nothing...
If I had said nothing...
...

This would still be heartbreak.
This would still be painful.
This would still be a-knife-in-my-back.
This would still be.

Easier to take your anger out on a piece of paper behind my back?
Easier to rip a paper with my heart on it into shreds behind my back?
Easier to whisper about me behind my back?
Easier...

But sure doesn't make it any better.
Except that it makes you feel better.
Except that it saves you discomfort and saves your face and preserves your heart.

How easy it is to sacrifice someone as long as it's not you.

And here I thought we were friends. And here I thought we cared for each other equally.

And here I thought I was strong.
Well, I'm not wasting tears on this.

I spent 19 and a half of my years not crying;
I've had practice.

And I am strong despite your attempts to rip me apart. Just because it was a piece of paper tucked away inside a desk doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

How awkward it was for me to find.

...
...
...
...

I think it's funny that you talk about other people being inconsiderate.
You talk about how other people are selfish and self-centered.
You talk about how other people are backstabbers.

I think it's funny that you said that it seemed like it wasn't bothering me.
Like I was the one who didn't want to be friends anymore.

I think it's funny how you say that you hate people who think they're smarter than others.
I think it's funny how you always say how much you don't care.

I think it's funny how you said that it was just an outburst.

Where were you when my feelings weren't even thought about? When my heart's wishes were assumptions that you crapped out of your rear end?
Where were you when all you thought about was how you could sound right and justified and understandable and how I wasn't? When I bussed the table and carried back all of your things?
Where were you when you talked about me behind my back?

Where were you when I wrote you that smallest note with every ounce of meaning in my being? Where were you when I asked you day after day how you were, when I saved things for you, when I tried to talk to you, when my heart broke for you,
When I wanted SO BADLY to be your friend?

Where were you when you said how you thought other people were always SO DUMB- how I'm so dumb and she's so dumb and all of them so dumb, dumb, dumb?
You certainly weren't caring.

Not for me, anyway. Not the last time either.

...

Is this what you call friendship? I've seen better camaraderie among cut-throat capitalists, among thieves, among liars.

I hope you could see the hurt on my face. Hurt you will never be able to explain away. Hurt that you can't even begin to wipe away. Hurt that no sorry, even if you WOULD apologize, could ever begin to fix.

And I hope you remember.

I hope you remember the night I found the truth. And the night that my heart broke for me and you. Because I knew-- I always know. And you-- you never did or will.

Night

2007-05-15T16:37:00.000-07:00

i am only
only
lonely
a pair of hips with the skin stretched across the span of them
and a bulge of belly in the middle that sings of hills like white elephants

i am only
only
terribly
lonely
a pair of knocked knees that go knock knock together
knocking together like the knees of a clock
going knock knock knock
together
going

tick
tock

i am only
only
only
the beat of my heart in your lonely cage of ribs
beating alone to the sound of your beautiful deceitful lips

I am only
only
lonely
like a soul held within a moment of a most sinister kiss
like the beauty of a butterfly caught within a spider's mist

i am only
only
only

only
lonely.
with no words to call my own
But all those to claim from the lips of those who I'll never see again

Know

2007-05-11T02:50:00.000-07:00

I hate it when people try to apply one situation to another that's dissimilar. Maybe on the surface they're a little alike but deep down they're completely different.

And I hate when people can't defend the words they say with anything better than a feeble "whatever."

Don't tell me words that you know you don't mean. I don't want them; waste your breath on something more worth your time.

And just because you don't agree, don't act like you know my reasoning. You don't know. And you won't. Because communications have ceased.

I hate it when people only see their view and don't bother looking from someone else's. Sure, you know your story. But do you know his? Her's? Mine?

Didn't think so.

I'd tell him. Why? Because you don't need a man who will drop his girl at the flick of a wrist, at a simple whisper of words. Because love is more than that. And if you don't got love, then what do you have?

A facade? A lie? Is that what you'd rather have?

I've always been one for the ugly truth than a beautiful lie. Call it cliche. Call it trite. Heck, call it trashy.

Call it what you want; I don't care for your words anymore.

I'd tell him. Because in the end, I still wouldn't get with him. It's not worth all that insecurity and time and doubt. But he should know what he did by trailing me along and betraying his own. And you should know that was never the situation you were in.

So don't even pretend. Don't make it about you.

For once, stop thinking that the world is all about how you see it. Your situation is never someone else's. Mine was never yours. Yours was never mine.

Under certain circumstances, I'd say not to tell and just let it happen on its own. But the circumstances changed. By telling, he'd remember his supposed loyalties. But keeping silent? Perhaps they'd just further the betrayals.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm as blind as you.

It's not the same. So stop pretending it is. This is NOT about you. Think about it farther than your arm's length. Perhaps then you'd see the situation for what it is.

You can hate her all you want. But ultimately he had a choice. And he chose.

And THAT, my dear, is his prerogative. Not yours. And whether you want to hate him or not or blame the girl he's with now, he chose.

I could easily pretend that I loved him first. That he was mine first.

But guess what? I respect people's right to choose. And he chose her. And I'm okay with that. It took 3 years to be okay with that, but you know what?

If it wasn't her, it'd be someone else. You learn that sooner or later.

I'm sick of this slow-to-think, slow-to-know, quick-to-speak sorta environment.
I'm sick of being beaten daily for thinking what i think and knowing what i know and never getting to say a thing as I'm murdered behind my back.

You thought I didn't know. You were wrong.

Liar

2007-05-09T08:26:00.000-07:00

For every lie you tell me, I feel a part of me die.

Emo, but true.

Two many

2007-05-07T05:45:00.000-07:00

looking at photos of us breaks my heart.

i never thought we'd come to part ways such as this.
but i guess that's what happens when things turn bad and we all go our own separate ways.

i just wonder if you knew how much you broke my heart
when you spat at me
when you accused me
when you knowingly fired bullets at me from point-blank range

i know what you had to go through
i know how it feels to be on the other side
i know that you're still hurting
but you don't know how hard it was to let someone go after being in love with them for three years
and you don't know how it feels to be on the other side
and you don't know that i'm still hurting

you don't know how bitter you sounded
you don't know what you're really mad about
and despite all this that you don't know

despite it being taken out on me

despite the many times that you've broken my heart and i've never once held you accountable
despite the many times that you've broken other hearts and i've never once held you accountable
despite the many times that you've hurt me and stabbed me and lied to me
i've never once held you accountable

but i can see you ticking my sins away on your fingers
i can see you using my blood to write them on your wall
i can see you hating me and loathing me and ignoring me and letting me go

but i don't count your faults
i don't need your blood
i don't hate you or loathe you and i'd sooner let you go than anyone else

two many eggshells.

Across the land to the distant cloudless sky

2007-05-02T15:41:00.000-07:00

How do you live with the deaths of all you held dear?
How do you live with your property taken away and your humanity stolen?
How do you live with your voices silenced and your hands tied?

How can you breathe when everything you've attempted has wound up in ruin?
When your children fall like wheat under the scythe?

How do you live when there is nothing to live for? How can the fire in your soul still burn after being flooded with heartache so many times?

How can it?
How can it?
How can you?

Forgiven

2007-05-02T13:15:00.000-07:00

So this is one of my biggest fears
That by following God I'd be estranged
And while it hurt
And while it made me want to cry
While I wanted to lay in bed
And cry and cry and cry
Into the furthest depths of the pillow
I strangely felt okay
Partly because I was expecting it
And partly because
I kinda didn't care

Too many eggshells
Too many eggshells
Two many eggshells
Are broken everyday
And today I cracked some of yours
I made you grind your teeth
I made you taste bitter and made you feel sandpaper
All this by speaking my mind within proper societal parameters
I wonder if you hate me for it
If where once friendship grew there lies only obstinate spite
From a few cracked yolks

This is the choice I made when I put on the shirt
This is the choice I made when I went into the public
This is the choice I made.
This is the choice that cannot be undone.

And I don't regret that.

I took a stand, and I didn't kick down. I took a stand, but not on anyone else. I took a stand I needed to take for myself, and if you hate me for it, I can't help you. How you choose to view my choice is solely up to you. But I have made mine.

Loser

2007-05-02T04:57:00.000-07:00

I'm a sucker for these...

1. Who is the last person you high-fived?
Probably Helena
2. If you were drafted into a war, would you survive?
i doubt it. perhaps if God had some further purpose for me, but otherwise, i lack the athleticism and caution to properly defend myself [much less the country]
**funny thought: if we can't defend the hearts that we own from being broken, how could we possibly defend our country?
3. Do you sleep with the TV on?
no
4. Have you ever drank milk straight out of the carton?
yes. and i delight in it. and i also eat cookie dough with my finger and lick off yogurt lids.
5. Have you ever won a spelling bee?
no. i came third place. seems to be the story of my life. : )
6. How fast can you type?
fairly fast. nothing to write home about.
7. Are you afraid of the dark?
only when i think something/ someone else is there in the dark with me... someone who would try to somehow harass me...
8. Eye color?
DARK dark brown with flecks of true black
9. Do u like some one on your top?
not that way, i don't think, no.
10. When is the last time you chose a bath over a shower?
rarely shower. and if i do, it'd mean me cleaning the tub. and that doesn't happen.
11. Do you knock on wood?
yes... if i'm saying something i shouldn't
12. Are you drinking anything right now?
nope. just sights.
13. Do you think you're attractive?
no. but Jesus loves so whatev's.
14. Can you hoola hoop?
not even worth my life
15. Are you good at keeping secrets?
yes. when i know it's a secret. and when a secret's secrecy is not revealed, i usually tell... not because I'm bad at keeping quasi-secrets but because I choose to tell.
16. What do you want for Christmas?
you. : ) or a car. but santa's bag ain't that big.
17. Do you know the Muffin Man?
yes.
18. Do you talk in your sleep?
occasionally, so i've heard. i have vivid dreams every so often... and sometimes i see flashes of the future.
19. Who wrote the book of love?
everyone writes it every day. but who's got it down to perfection? Christ. hahahahaha.
20. Have you ever flown a kite?
nope
21. Do you consider yourself successful?
overall.
22. How many people are on your contact list of your cell?
i dunno. i don't really take note of such things.
23. Have you ever asked for a pony?
yes... every little girl has. i even pretended i had an imaginary horse.
don't laugh.
25. Plans for tomorrow?
class, paper, art show, math, sleep... hopefully.
26. Missing someone now?
always. just depending on who.
27. When was the last time you told someone 'I love you'?
MY DADDY!! he called today. : )
28. How are you feeling right now?
procrastinative
29. Are you black?
not by skin. but occasionally by mood and sometimes by pain.
30. Have you ever been suspended or expelled from school?
nope. and i aim to keep it that way.
31. What are you looking forward to?
Spending time with my dad thursday
32. Have you ever crawled through a window?
of course. have you ANY idea how many times i've been locked out of somewhere??
33. Have you ever eaten dog food?
no
34. Can you handle the truth?
yes. there's no other option.
35. Do you like green eggs and ham?
green from mold? no. from food coloring? eggs, sure... ham... well, not anymore since i no longer eat meat.
36. What 3 things can always be found in your refrigerator?
milk, parmesan, forgotten condiments
37. Any cool scars?
none except for the emo ones.
38. Do you like or have a crush on anyone? Do they know?
yes... sorta. probably. if not, they must be useless [at which, i have no use for them : )]
39. How many kids do you plan on having?
SEVEN
40. What do you do when no one is watching?
dance. sing. laugh. breathe.
41. Have you ever been in love?
i believe so. a high school love. a step above puppy love but a step below what should be the love of my life. so yeah.
42. Do you talk to yourself?
yes.
43. Is there something you want that you can't have?
always. that's the human condition.
44.Three things about the opposite sex that you first notice?
face, aura, the look on the face
45.Who are you thinking about right now?
hahaha... person from question 38.
46. Who did you last hug?
Rachel
47.Where are you right now?
room
48. What was the last thing you ate?
string cheese
49. Favorite Color?
blues and reds
50.What song do you currently hear?
hahahahaha. I've had the time of my life with Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes.
51. What do you want?
more time
52. Would you ever date anyone on your friends list?
possibly. if i could remember who they are.
53. What TV show are you watching?
none currently. but i love LOST.

Space

2007-04-24T21:23:00.000-07:00

Inspired and in a way encouraged by Helena,

I'm going to give people UP...
just for a lil bit
Because you aren't you anymore
and I'm not me
But I've missed YOU
And I know that YOU are the most important thing in my life
I just haven't been living that way

And it's as simple as that

Or complicated?

Because you've hurt me so much, and I've been chasing after this idea of what you want that I've forgotten what I want. And who I was... and who I want to be. I'm not me anymore, and it kills me that you don't seem to like the me i've become... Even though I got to be this way, in a way, because of you.

Kelly Clarkson overstated it, but the line still works.

And as YOU teach me, so patiently, with such a tender love that it breaks my heart every day, I'm learning that in order to have something you must lose something. In order to have more of YOU in my life, I have to have less of ME. The ME that wants them. That wants to be who they want me to be. The ME that's selfish- egocentric and egotistical and egomaniac[al].

The me who wants to have a place in this world.

But slowly I'm learning that in order to have a place in YOUR world, I must lose my place in mine. I'm learning that in order to live as YOU want, I can't be of the world.

Sure I'm in it... But that doesn't mean I'm of it.

So for every time you make me feel bad and unloved and unwanted... for every time you ride over everything I say and make me feel like I'm not good enough,

I'll say,

"I give you up.

Because YOU love me. And YOUR opinion matters... not theirs.

So as long as I am going YOUR way and not theirs, I'll be okay...

Because this heart is done with hurting... And it's ready to find its way back to YOU.

And I'll walk through the valley
If YOU want me to."

Contrary

2007-04-15T14:53:00.000-07:00

It's funny how it could be so sunny outside and how i could feel so utterly crappy inside.

Occasionally

2007-04-10T15:11:00.000-07:00

Sometimes,
I really don't feel like being nice. or pleasant. or giving you the time of day.
Sometimes,
I just want to be alone.
I don't want to talk. I don't want to listen. I just want to be
alone
.
And I REALLY don't have the patience
Me
Personally, no patience.
But sometimes it just gets so hard dealing with
Y-ou.
And it makes me feel f a t
and lllleeettthhhaaarrrgggiiiccc.
gross, even.
And I don't want to sound awful but I get so sick of you sometimes
And even if it's only some
times
it still bothers me that you revolve you around you
And never think about me about
And it sometimes
pisses me off.
Because I FEEL like I WORK so
HArd.
And this lAUGH gets to be such a
la-bore.
That I reel-y don't know what to do.
All I know is that some
times
I get sick of you. and you get sick of me
too.

Playing with words is fun. But play too much with fire and you'll get burned.

Wishful Thinking

2007-04-04T15:33:00.000-07:00

I want a man with a heart and hands that feel like home.

A man with a heart for God.

With quick words and wit,
Filled with passion to the brim that it's practically overflowing.

Someone who can match me but also teach me. Someone who won't bring me down or make me weary. Who won't treat me like crap.

Someone I can love and respect. Someone I can talk to... REALLY talk to.

A man who isn't petty or vengeful but still on fire for justice. A man who has a heart for the world but not of it.

Someone that won't make me feel like I'm just settling or that I-might-as-well-'cause-someone-better-may-never-come-along.

Someone who won't try to control me or tell me what to do. Someone who won't coerce me into anything I don't want simply for his own selfish reasons.

Someone I can love and respect. Someone I can talk to... REALLY talk to.

Where do you find someone like that?

Judge

2007-03-30T01:21:00.000-07:00

I don't care if you don't believe the same thing I do.

But at least show others the decency and respect of correctly quoting them instead of purposefully making them sound foolish. How could you be so headstrong as to put down their beliefs so disgustingly? How could you treat them so poorly after everything they've been through?

Not everyone is blessed with rose-colored glasses. Especially not admitted ones.

The way you did it just lacked so much humility and love and kindness; I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I wanted to be just as harsh and condescending and judgmental... but I couldn't.

Because we don't start conflicts. We don't brew them with ignorance and spite. Instead, we aim to foster peace and strength; we want to build each other up just as we built walls.

Standing up doesn't mean kicking down.

I wonder if you've learned that yet.

Humility. Grace. Perseverance. Hope. Truth.

So many things to be, so many tries to get them.

I'm trying... everyday, I'm trying.

And last night, I came back. I cried; I broke. And I came back.

Thank You for showing me what was what. What my life has become. What it should be.

Show me where to go. How not to judge. That despite my anger and bitterness, worth and beauty and understanding can still exist toward a person.

Remember Tyrone. Second-chances. New life.

We all get a second chance. Judge lest ye be judged.

Wander

2007-03-22T08:44:00.000-07:00

I wonder if you saw the same stars as me
And felt as I felt.

Things that I find beautiful:
Animals that have one mate for the rest of their lives.
Tragic heroes.
The lovers at Mantua.
Lost glances.
Biomusicology.

If the loss of love is known as such agony to Man, what is the loss of God?

"Caught a glimpse of the splendor in the corner of my eye... the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen... It was like a flash of lightning, a flicker of the sky, and I know I'll never be the same again."

It always feels like this right before. But I should just tell myself that, like always, this is where it'll end. All those signs are fiction, all the harshness fact.

You better believe it.

Lame

2007-03-13T06:12:00.001-07:00

Trying to get a decent grade in a math class is hard when you've lost your book.

Bah humbug!

Revelations

2007-03-07T06:17:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, it takes a little bad to see the good.
A little heartbreak to see the love.
Sometimes,
when we least expect it,
someone comes along and changes everything.
And while that may be for better or worse,
things change,
and you have no control over them.
So you just give time its due and pray,
pray,
pray,
pray,
that God will show you the answers you need.
And when He does,
you're utterly blown away.

Heart

2007-03-06T04:30:00.000-08:00

The funny thing about Christianity is that it is nothing you'd think you'd want.

It means forfeiting control of your life, living it by a book inspired by an intangible [sort of] being, and ceaselessly bearing crosses for the rest of your life.

And who would want that?

In a world where everything is about control and gaining more control, we're in a constant struggle against God to declare that He is not real and that we don't need Him. We go our own way and think what we want, do what we want, say what we want, dress how we want... Whatever God says, we just don't seem to care. We control ourselves and our lives and our destinies.

Almost.

The Bible can teach good values. The Bible has some nice stories. Jesus was a good teacher. He seemed like a nice guy.

Endless upon endless reasons why Christianity is bunk, not to mention other religions that this could apply to.

And I keep seeing over and over how much we try to live away from God in order to pursue the worship of ourselves. Our lives revolve around us; sure, we can help people. Sure, we can donate to good causes. Solidarity not charity, etc, etc. But in the end, what aim are we seeking to do it for? Ourselves? So we can be "good people"? Because it's the "right thing"?

And how do you define a good person? The right thing? Someone who helps others? Something that makes us feel like we made the world a better place?

But back to the original question-- why pursue this? Why try to be a good person? Why help people?

I'm not saying help people for God or do it out of a duty to the ministry. Not even close.

But I am calling into question our motives for why we do things. If we aren't "nice" to get praise or recognition or that it'll someday "come back around" [Thanks, Justin Timberlake!] to us, then why do we do it? Because it's been deemed cool?

By who? MTV? Mother Teresa? Bill Gates? Jo Mama?

So we help people because it's the cool thing to do? Then do we wear kabbalah bracelets and drink kabbalah water and use kabbalah soap?

No... So what motivation is there?

Or do we just do it because... we just do? Does any thought even go into our "help"?

Well, yeah... it does. So we can't assume that our "good nature" and "kindness" is simply second nature and that all of Mankind is filled with this need to be altruistic. Not so much... if anything, kinda the opposite.

Otherwise, why would we be so selfish? When someone hurts us, we want revenge. Oh... YOU don't? Well, what about when someone is mean to you? Do you think negatively about them? Wondering why they were so mean to YOU when YOU did nothing? How could they just be SO rude? How could someone say THAT?

We're completely and utterly SO in love with ourselves that we can't see love when it's staring at us straight in the face.

Someone punches us; we wanna punch back. Someone hurts us or uses us or takes us for granted or steals from us, and we want "justice." We want that person punished because they've wronged us.

Don't lie. Don't tell me that even after someone has beaten you or your family, stolen your belongings, and slandered your name that you would want to do nothing to them.

Sure, it's understandable how you feel. But it's also selfish. It's self-centered. Egocentric. Because you've been accosted and now you want it to cost someone.

But maybe we're not meant to live that way.

Maybe, just maybe, if we could stop thinking about ourselves and start thinking about other things, we'd be just a little better off.

If we could stop looking at all the wrongs that've been done to us, we could see how to mend all the wrongs we've done.

And not because it's "for Jesus" or "our duty." Not so much. Rather because in light no darkness can exist. Because, for all of our control-freak issues and self-centered wants and needs, we're alone at the end of the day.

For all the nice houses and nice cars and jewelry and designer jeans, we're alone. And we just brutally try and garner attention so we won't feel so alone.

But people have a tendency to disappoint. to break hearts. to be selfish.

We're completely and utterly SO in love with ourselves that we can't see love when it's staring at us straight in the face.

There it is, whispering in our ear. Telling us there's hope. It's the ocean at 7 AM on a Sunday morning. It's the rain. It's fire.

And we just refuse to see it because we can't give up our control. Because giving up means no more our way. It means living by an intangible-being-inspired book and bearing a whole bunch of crosses we really don't want to.

Every good thing that's ever happened to you has been a gift. You get this. You feel Hope. You feel Love. You feel Passion and Fire and Life.

But you say it's not from God. You say it's just life as it is.

But a Life without God is a life full of loneliness. Because at the end of the day, it's just you by yourself.

And for all the times He tries to speak to you, you turn the other way. Because you'd rather be alone and in control than let your future be sent into the wind. Because you, like everyone else, only trust yourself. And even then, that's iffy too.

If we need Hope and Love and Passion and Fire and Life, how could we not need God?

How could we continue in our obstinate way?

You say God doesn't exist. But I say that He's alive and moving in ways you don't even yet know. But one day, you will. Because, for those moments when you aren't selfish and your heart is filled with Love, I can see Him in you.

Affair

2007-03-01T18:39:00.000-08:00

I fall in and out of love at the flick of a wrist. Or rather, the turn of a head.

It's a deep love. an infatuated type of love.
Eat-cereal-with-you-at-2-in-the-afternoon-after-waking-up sorta love.

Which really isn't necessarily love at all.

And it all lasts for just a few seconds. minutes. possibly an hour. Rarely more than a day.

Sometimes it happens everyday with the same person. Most often it's everyday with lots of different people.

Does that make me trashy?

And for five minutes, five GLORIOUS minutes, someone becomes forever imprinted in my memory. For five minutes, they're all that'll fill my head until the next daydream or math equation or literary revelation will come along. So for five minutes, I'm drowning superficially loving them.

But only for five minutes... or so.

Yesterday, it was one of the math TAs. Today, it was the recurrent semi-hateful infatuation with the kid-that-never-says-hi. Last quarter, I fell in love with a boy with blue eyes, and a half a year ago, I fell in love with two funnymen, one of whom stayed around long enough for the infatuation to become a crush that won't go away.

And since the second quarter of freshman year, I've been infatuated with pocket-emo. Haha. I still giggle to myself every time I see him. And you can bet five bucks that I make a fool out of myself every time.

And I'll never forget Sexy-Guy-with-the-sorta-mohawk. The guy that just OOZES sex appeal and artistry and penny-rental flats in Europe with dingy curtains and unwashed plates and empty upon empty upon empty bottle of wine.

So where's all this infatuation come from??

Probably from a few years ago when infatuation wasn't infatuation but love. When love didn't last a few minutes but months and months and months. When heartbreak songs didn't mean anything and love songs meant more. When people meant what they said, and I felt safe with boys, much less a boy.

Maybe I just miss love so much that I substitute it with superficial infatuations so I don't have to admit that I miss it. So I can replace love with somethings that lead to nothing so I'll never have to lay anything on the line. Maybe just so I can pretend and only face reality when it slaps me in the face as I lie awake at night thinking about her and him and all the pain he's caused her.

Maybe infatuation's better than the real thing. At least, it is for now.

In the Air

2007-02-26T21:45:00.000-08:00

Everything's changing. The temperatures are rising, falling, shifting. Things I've never seen have stopped existing, and things I've seen too much just keep living like they don't care what I think.

And they don't.

I wonder how long it'll be until I stop existing too. I wonder if that big hole I'm contributing to in the ozone layer every day will be any bigger when I die. I wonder if that big hole is really just speeding up nature's natural process; if this heating and cooling is all a part of some larger cosmic order and several thousand years from now some other species is going to be looking at slides of us and calling us late primitive man... explaining how we first advanced technology but our hearts and ears were too cold to handle it. If they'll talk about our wars. How we were so desperate and base that we permanently damaged ourselves.

Remember seeing that exhibit? That hairy man with the loincloth and the portruding jaw that looked with such intensity and interest at a round rock?

I wonder if thousands of years from now, people will look at someone who looks like me. If they'll laugh at me and try to lift up my shirt to see what's underneath, just like we used to do to the caveman with the loincloth.

Pervy kids.

I wonder if they'll say, "Mum, why's she so desperate to find money? Doesn't she know an education is free?"

"Education wasn't free back then, dear."
"Why not?"
"Because it cost money to learn."
"Money to learn! But how could anyone ever put a price on knowledge?"
"They did back then, dear."
"But that's like charging people for food! Or clothing! Or shelter? Did... did people actually go without these things, Mother?"
"Yes, dear."
"But... that's horrible!"
"I know, dear. We're blessed to live in these times."
"But didn't they WANT to have those things?"
"Of course they did, dear."
"But why didn't they?"
"Because no one had fully realized yet what was truly important."
"That's like charging people to use the bathroom!"
"They did that too, dear... sometimes."
"What silly people."
"I know, dear."

Maybe. The imagination runs wild.

And sometimes it just runs.

Like we used to. I wonder if thousands of years from now, two people will still fall in and out of love as we did. As she did. As he will.

I wonder how much things do change over hundreds of years. Thousands. If we did evolve, no wonder it took so long. We're definitely slow about it.

Sometimes I wonder how much people see in me. Or how little. And why do they see what they see? Do I see what they see?

I'm slow.

Typically.

I wonder if he'll be slow. Or fast. Or anything at all. Maybe dreams are chased because if we don't believe in something better, we'll go crazy seeing what's so bad.

And maybe hope is chased because if we don't hope, we don't live.

I've got hopes and dreams. One hope, and a dream I don't know yet.

So I guess we'll have to see.

Speak

2007-02-22T23:49:00.000-08:00

Your voice
is
like
the gentle rumble of thunder in the distance,
the mere whisper of wind on a flower.
You speak
And all stills,
Listening.
The mountains tremble at Your name,
And the waters cease at Your call.
You spark a flame in my soul,
and you spread fires across the land.
You consume like the desert sun,
but You forgive like the willow tree.
Your voice
feels natural to my soul
And tastes of the rain You give.
You flow like water
And take root in the darkest of places.
You shine your light,
And I am free.

[ehhhhhhhhh... work in progress]

Truth

2007-02-05T00:30:00.001-08:00

I'm so incredibly lacking; it's a miracle that You can make me whole.

Lost

2007-01-28T04:27:00.000-08:00

There was a time when we were good friends. Close friends. When you liked me, and I liked you.

But that age is gone. Passed. Past. We don't even really talk anymore.

And the sick thing is that I don't care. I don't like you at all. Sometimes I try to, but I realized that I disagree with everything about you.

You're so incredibly racist, and you try to pass that off with jokes and jibes. Like we're somehow convinced that since you say it lightheartedly that it's all okay, that you can just say whatever you want, and we won't hold you accountable for it.

Everyone's been so gracious to you your entire life, and all you can do is act like a spoiled child. Have you no appreciation or joy for the life that you've been given? Do you not understand the positions you have been placed in, and do you not understand how others have been placed into theirs?

It makes me so mad to think about how close we used to be. How at one point we agreed about so many things. How we used to laugh and joke and always tell each other the truth.

But times change people.

And we're both so different now.

And it makes me so mad to think about you and the image you represent. All of you.

I can't stand any of you. I don't know how I was so blind to it in high school; maybe we were different then. Not different like we are now, but more the same and less different to each other.
Maybe less indifferent.

If only you could understand... If only you could stop being petty and disgusting and elitist for one minute and just think about the goodness and potential of the world you live in.

If only for one minute you could stop thinking about your life and think about someone else's.

Maybe things would be different. Maybe we could talk, and maybe we could have something in common.

Not saying I'm more magnanimous or humble than you. Not at all.

But I don't know how you can say the things you do. How you can let those words spell themselves out across the page to spread lashes a thousand in number, to speak of something darker than skin color and stronger than life.

It hurts to say so, but it's true-- it's stronger than life. You can only live with it for so long.

Hate.

You're not as liberal as you think. You're not as enlightened as you want to be. You're not as cool as you wish you were.

Everyone wants approval of the harshest kind; everyone wants to be accepted by the person that accepts the least.

The person who wants to be friends with everyone will always be friendly; the person who wants to be friends with only a select few will always be popular.

Because by putting others down, you raise yourself up.

I don't have the heart for your complexes, and I don't have the stomach for your crap.

Shut up.

Open

2007-01-04T00:38:00.000-08:00

I've got a mouth like you would not believe.

And this mouth... this little pink mouth... has told so many things to so many ears.

Stories, secrets, jokes, lies, truths, pain, heartache, love.

And this mouth has gotten me into so much trouble.

It once placed miles between my mother and me.
It once said honey-sweet lies that it knew were false. All lisped through the teeth.
It once held silent taunts right on the verge of itself, but it kept those inside because they were animals far too ferocious to escape.

For if they would escape, they would cause the utmost destruction.

These lips once charmed a man into thinking he was in love with just a pair of sweet, sensible, gentle lips. But the mouth that owned those lips deceived him.

This mouth has broken contact. Has kept it. Has nurtured it.

This mouth has made so many people laugh. Has let words fall where they should, and laid them gently down where they ought to be.

This mouth has echoed wisdom. It has echoed life.

But for all the good it has done, the evil committed is just as much.

Words are just words, but a mouth gives them breath. Lips move them through passages of space and time.

And somewhere far away, a boy is remembering the words my mouth once said to deceive him.

And here, somewhere far away, I am remembering those words as well.

mistake

2007-01-02T13:40:00.000-08:00

nobody ever does what they're supposed to. just be glad when they do.

Poo-poo on you!

2006-12-17T21:13:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to say that I get severely peeved by people who are really uppity.

You know... those people who think they know SO much about art and literature and music and movies... the people who stare forever on end at a classic painting and say "it's trash... I never cared for his style"... the SAME people who tell me "UGH! I can't read Harry Potter books because I get so busy analyzing how poorly the sentences are written."

To those people: SHUT UP!

I don't care for your snobby attitudes and your deprecating air! Your pretension [and yes, I'm VERY aware of the rule that says when I use the word pretentious I'm being pretentious, THANK YOU] and your arrogance makes this world all the worse, and you can take your high-thinking doilies that you sit on and fart ALL over them! It'd let some of the hot air in your head out.

BUT the world FORBID all of you to do it at the same time, or we might be left with no ozone at all.

And the world, YES THE WORLD FULL OF THE STUPID PEOPLE YOU SO HORRIBLY LOOK DOWN UPON AND DETEST, the world forbid you EVER to stoop down to our level and read our books and watch our movies and listen to our music because then we'd have it TAINTED by the likes of YOU.

I'll be very happy with my Harry Potter, my Snakes on a Plane, my Justin Timberlake THANK YOU!

While you read your Great Expectations and watch your uber-old, uber-foreign film with uber-layered meanings and listen to your heady, heavily-thought-out UBER-indie music.

YOU DO THAT.

GOOD RIDDANCE.

And take your stinky cheese with you!

I wish...

2006-12-16T11:26:00.000-08:00

I want a guy with...

Gene Kelly's charm.
James Stewart's attitude.
Adrien Brody's beauty.
Brad Pitt's body.
Edward Norton's aura.
Eugenides' heart.
Wesley/ The Dread Pirate [rather, Ex] Roberts' undying love.
Sean Connery's voice.
George Clooney's smile.
Jon Stewart's humor.
V's honor.
Nino Quincompoix's quirkiness.
Matt Bellamy's singing voice.
Rivers Cuomo's nerdiness.
2D's sadness.
Ted Leo's brilliance.
Mr. Darcy's passion.

Higher

2006-11-27T23:01:00.000-08:00

I'm pickin' up,
I'm movin' on.
I'm blowing over this whole scene.
And when I come back 'round again, I'll be someone new.
So don't worry if you don't recognize me. I won't recognize you either.
So when we pass by each other and given't a flinch, I'll wonder if that's really what you smell like and if it would've been different.

I've said this so many times before. But this time it's different. Because this time I know something you don't.

I'm living. I'm learning. I'm growing.

Give me some time, Dad, and I'll soon be the strong oak you always were talking about. I'm halfway there already. Just give me some time.

A heart made of thousand-strength walls will take no time to crumble if demolished from the inside out. But to build all those walls again will take some time.

Do you hear that bitter laughter of broken wood? It's because the walls are temporarily down and in their place is the fresh, bendy stripped branches of old pine trees.

Be careful or they'll fly across your back.

I thought no love could compare to that of me and you. But I was wrong.

A love exists that preceded you and me-- a love that I had forgotten and buried. I found it again after we were lost, but it takes a long time to rebuild a trust that's been broken. Because I've only got so much trust.

Good thing the love I've found will fill in all the emptiness I've got.

And slowly, we'll build me back up again.

Be glad that He's above bitterness and resent or else you'd have a hefty weight on your head. And be glad that I'm slowly getting out of that scene.

I'm done being tied down.

I'm ready to fly.

Here's to faith. The faith that counts.

Somewhere out there, there's a man that will be everything I've dreamed of. And I won't love another but him. I can only hope he can forgive me for the sin of loving another first. Mr. Somebody, here's to you!

I believe in miracles because my first, ancient, holy love is a miracle within itself. And that is all I need.

Three-sixties mean you end up where you started. I already did that.

One-eighties mean you go the opposite direction. And I've already tried that.

But I've been thinking so long in two dimensions that I've forgotten about the third.

There's nowhere to go but up.

Confession

2006-11-21T23:23:00.000-08:00

I am violently afraid of falling in love.

Little Things

2006-11-17T12:58:00.000-08:00

Today I saw a boy with the most striking and lovely eyes... and it made me smile. : )

Torn

2006-11-05T14:14:00.000-08:00

I've come to realize that I rarely regret what i say or the act of saying it...

I do regret HOW i say it though...

Cheers to the idea of me shutting up.

To the regrets of not being angry or spiteful or really showing my emotions. To the dignity and peace of being the mature one and rising above the crowd, but missing all the passion of being young and strongheaded.

Cheers to the passed fights, the lost wins, the won losses. To the moments of understanding and the gone moments of misunderstanding.

Ever feel like you were losing but winning at the same time?

Just a bit

2006-10-31T04:18:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to point out that God doesn't need us and yet we seem to think He does...

Common misconception.

It's we who need Him.

Condemnation, consternation, contemplation, and condescension makes for mention of contention

2006-10-27T14:12:00.000-07:00

You make me want to hang my head in shame and cry. How could you be so easily blinded by what everyone else is doing? Saying? How far did you go to find the truth?

How come everything we do is tied to our religion? Perhaps we don't do it because we're trying to spread the word of Christ or even because He commanded us to, but because by loving others we love God.

You must think your so witty with your scathing comments and harsh criticism and hateful words. What are you doing in the fight for AIDS? Anything?

So when people try to make a difference and spread awareness, how dare you shoot them down for their efforts? How dare you tell them their purpose, their motivation?

You are so quick to jump on someone's back for their bigotry or their infringement upon your rights, but you don't even think twice about doing so to them.

What is this? Two wrongs make a right? Have you forgotten the decency and respect you long for so that you can blatently harp on someone else?

Enough! I am sick of your hypocrisy and your lies! I'm sick of the fact that your acceptance of me is based upon my religion. I'm sick of the fact that should I step out of the norm, I am deemed radical and unwelcome though I haven't hurt anyone.

You call the church unwelcoming? You call organized religion shameful and judgmental and hateful and harsh?

And yet you, without even bothering to understand the relationship behind the religion, without even bothering to search for the truth, you hate them. You shame them. You judge them. And you despise them.

Yet why? For those times you were "accosted"? And yet, do you know why?

Perhaps if you did... perhaps if you understood-- no, perhaps if you even bothered trying to understand, you would realize that you were only accosted because you were being loved. Perhaps it offended you; that is not unimaginable.

But if your mother bade you eat your vegetables or your father tried to teach you discipline, would you scorn them because you were so offended? Even if you can find substitutes for vegetables or discipline yourself, would you dispise them for their efforts?

Chances are you wouldn't. You would be more understanding and loving toward them.

But never strangers, right? Who would bother, could bother, loving strangers?

Certainly not you.

But they did. They tried, even if in poor ways. And you, you threw it back at them. You cry out that you are the oppressed, that you are the enslaved. You cry out that you are hated.

And yet, when someone tries to love you in the greatest way they can, a way that takes courage and heart and motivation and passion... You deny them their love and throw it back in their face. You wave your hatred in their eyes and dare them to love you more. And when they become hurt or angry, you laugh and say, "Serves them right."

Well, it will. And yours will too.

Deja Entendu

2006-10-22T05:33:00.000-07:00

I feel like such a fool, but sometimes when i post things...

I only do it because I hope that you're reading them.

Hairs

2006-10-17T21:46:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, you want to believe in something so badly... You want to believe that the truth you've been told is a lie, and you want to believe that the alternative is what's really there.

But really, what can you do but trust? It's not in your hands anymore. There's a plan, and it's being carried out. You're powerless to stop it.

But at the end, you have the choice of your reaction. That one little push, sway, influence you hold over whatever small hemisphere you deem your little bit of world... you have that.

But you can't because you won't fool yourself into a position where you've been so many times before... Because that would mean the possibility of disappointment.

So where do you draw the line? Take a chance and trust? Or back down and remain the coward you've always been?

Do you say nothing and let your actions speak for themselves? Or do you take no action either and simply hope that whatever is plaguing you will just fade away?

Delicate.

A paper is easily ripped from the edge, but from the center... that's a different story.

So am I sitting at the edge or am I really in the center wondering about the edge?

It's a hard choice. Who can you trust? Who can you love? Who can you let in, and who can you say farewell to?

I suppose life is made up of such balances... such precarious precipices that we must waver on. But the time will come when we must fall to one side or the other...

The question is

how far are you from the center?

Rowlandson Pied Piper

2006-10-14T04:46:00.000-07:00

Hopes embodied in one sole person
Makes for tragic disappointment.
Teenage nights and drama days
Fall for the sake of Hollywood.
Two hundred years, and all's the same,
But still forty-three thousand eight hundred away from salvation.
Words and images bring salvation.
How much would it mean through rose-colored glasses?
Mediated lies and a lurid truth
Mislead us all to the ocean's edge
Theme songs, jingles, and newsjibes
Muffle out a father's call
Self-mutilatioin won't save the show
But neither will lying to yourself.

Work in progress... I'm still playing around with what words I want to use... and the form isn't perfect either... But I kinda like this one. Too bad it's still got a lot of "teen angst" tone to it. : ( sounds too immature.

Acid wit, bittersweet

2006-09-25T22:03:00.000-07:00

Today, I might have said one of the best lines of my life.

The conversation went like this.

"So... how's your love life?"
"Ehh... nothing going on really. I don't really like anyone. I mean, I've met people I thought were cute or that I had crushes on, but no one I'd want to date..."
"Standards too high?"
"No... choices too low."

Hahahahaha.

Well, I guess this just goes to show that all that bitterness isn't out of my system yet. Bugger. : )

But... God's breakin' me down one layer of stone at a time.

Anxious

2006-09-04T19:44:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine told me that it was a good idea to make a list of anxieties before each major event in my life and just see how God addresses those anxieties.

So, since the school year is coming and summer is going , I figure I'll do one for the school year and see how it turns out.

Well, here goes:

1. Grades-- I'm really scared that I'm going to fall into a disaffected rut next year [like I did at the end of last year] and just depend on caffeine rushes to get me through the day.

2. My faith walk-- The daily routine always bears down and starts eating away at my focus on Christ. It sucks, and I hate it. I also suck at standing up for my faith.

3. Witnessing-- I want to be a good witness without being a jerk for Jesus. I want to stand up without kicking down. And it's delicately tough to do so.

4. Boys-- I need to learn to just trust in God's plan and that when someone He's sending me comes along, I'll be ready and okay enough to be with that person. I'm not asking for a guy, but rather just to be okay with having one.

5. Going to class-- Caffeine rushes KNOCK ME OUT.

6. Campus Crusade-- I didn't really take a big role in it last year, and I kinda want to get into it this year. I've realized that I really need a strong faith base in my life, and church/ Bible study is a big part of that base. I also want to get to know the people there better and just learn that my judgments aren't always right.

7. Friends-- For the good friendships to get stronger, and the bad friendships to get better. Oh, and to make new ones : ).

8. Money-- Hopefully, the money'll last and my education will be paid for.

So I guess we'll see how this works out. : )

Love and Peace

: )

2006-08-26T12:13:00.000-07:00

It's nice when someone makes you feel better and reassures you.

: )

I love friends.

Teeth

2006-08-25T15:38:00.000-07:00

I'm currently squeezing tea bags in between my teeth. No off-color jokes please.

Anyway, I have four gaping holes in my mouth. That's cool. And actually, there's not a lot of pain. I haven't had to run for the painkillers yet anyway. It's just this incessant bleeding. I never realized it before, but I had the taste of old blood in my mouth. Actually, blood in general kinda sucks... Geez.

Let me just say that laughing gas has to be some of the coolest stuff EVER. I mean... really. It's strange to be aware of what people are saying but to be unable to feel at all their presence in the same room. I guess we "feel" presences by body heat and such and such, but after taking laughing gass, I couldn't even properly respond to the nurse on time.

I've also decided that I don't like the idea of surgery. It's awkward being put under the knife, totally unconscious and helpless and at the utter mercy of the doctor cutting you open. I dunno. It just seems bizarre to have some 40-yr old man-stranger cutting open your mouth to remove your teeth and later throw them away....

Uhhh... "It rubs the lotion on its skin" much??

Jk. I liked my doctor. He was nice.

I went in my pajamas. Anything that lets you wear your jammies out is pretty much not THAT bad.

Though, for the record, I don't like going to the dentist. Not that I don't like my dentist... BUT, I hate metal being in my mouth.

Everything has the taste of blood. Right now, I'm holding a lot of spit in my mouth.

It's gonna be an awesome color when it comes out. Rawk on.

Anyway, I'm done. A little tired [haven't eaten anything all day, but I've taken in some water/ gatorade.]

Ok. Lotsa love and peace.

Appreciate

2006-08-22T03:03:00.000-07:00

I just spent 9 hours making a bag for my sister out of blue plaid material. My fingers are numb, my face has more grease than a tub of butter, and my eyelids are about to fall onto the keyboard.

She better appreciate how much I like her.

Too bad I' m planning to wake up in a few hours to make MY bag.

Btw, to those who read this, I appreciate it. It's nice knowing that some still make the trek here to my blog. : )

Love and Peace

Maybe

2006-08-19T21:44:00.000-07:00

Maybe all I need is a little trust that I'm no longer in control and that the insecurities and falsities in me are being changed with the passing of every day.

Maybe all I need is to know that my life isn't mine and that no matter what happens, God will see it through.

Maybe what I should know is that despite all these fears and apprehensions, the first thing I need to learn is that it's okay to be the way I am and that one day, I won't be so afraid.

It was all because of you, but now it's all because of You.

So who's ready to be okay??

Maybe I am. Just maybe.

Too Bad

2006-08-17T21:50:00.000-07:00

It makes me sad that as soon as he'll get close, I'll have to tear him apart. And the worst part? I won't even know it.

Notice

2006-08-15T15:56:00.000-07:00

I have a problem being bitter. If I were a fruit, I'd be a bitter one. In chinese, we have a vegetable [or is it a fruit?] called bitter melon. I'm not sure what the English name is, but I think if I were a vegetable with the deceptive name of a fruit, I'd probably be a bitter melon.

Ku gua.

The reason that I bring this up is that I've realized that I've lived a life full of regrets. I've done many things I regret, among them things associated with school. And while I believe a life having some regrets is understandable, I have more of them than I should.

I mean, don't get me wrong. I've lived a good life, and I've certainly had more non-regrets than I have regrets. But the fact still stands that I have a high number of regrets that could or should have been prevented. Too bad I was too stupid at the time.

I want to live a life of few or no regrets. I don't want to do things I want to do anymore. If I live the life God has planned for me, I will have no regrets. If I do the things God wants me to do, I will have no regrets. How do I know? Every time I've done something that was righteous, just, and true according to His Word or His Will, I haven't regretted it. Not a bit.

But often there are so many voices in my head, I can barely tell which one's God's. What to do? What to do? What to do?

BUT, one thing's for sure. More and more, God has shown me that slacking off in school is not a good thing to do. I should work hard and focus. To do everything half-heartedly would mean that I take the opportunities I've been given half-heartedly, and that's not true.

I've resolved to return to my roots. I will do my homework before having fun. Even when I eat lunch, I want to be reading or doing some sort of school work. Not until the homework is done will I go out and play. I know this sounds like I'm twelve or something, but it's a system that's really been laid on my heart.

And I won't say that it's impossible or that some days I will slip up. NO. It's very possible, and I will not slip up. It takes 20 days/ a month to build a habit, so I will build this one.

I want to give all the opportunities God has given me a shot. I want to work hard and live the life God's given me to the fullest extent.

I have a really busy schedule next quarter. Five classes, Japanese drumming, Bible Study, etc. I'm planning not to do homework on the weekends so I can rejuvenate, but this will require a lot of self-control and planning. But I can do it!

With God on my side, I can do anything : ).

I think some people consider me silly or foolish or ridiculous for being, what they say, really optimistic. It's been said that optimism is my crack, lol. But you know what? I don't really think of myself as being optimistic. The way I see it, I just see possibilities of what COULD happen. And rather than striving for second-best or third-rate, I want to see the BEST come true. I want the first-rate stuff to happen. So if I keep settling for the "realistic," that's only what I'll see. But if I know that I can get the best, why settle for something less?

Speaking of less, I'm thinking about quitting my job at the dining hall. I don't appreciate my boss' attitude, and I don't really like it when people tell me I don't take my work seriously. What they don't realize is that I DO take many things I do seriously, among them stuff I'm being paid to do. I'll admit that I've screwed up [life of regrets, NO MORE!] like last quarter with my grades. But my job I've taken seriously. I arrive at work, and I don't call in sick unless I have to. When it's rushed, I work hard to make sure that as many people as possible get served.

But like said, I like enjoying my work. When my work isn't enjoyable, I do what I can to make it enjoyable to me. And my boss [well, one of them] doesn't appreciate the way I try to make my job fun. Apparently, harmless practical jokes [and they really are harmless. like drawing on aprons or putting food that's going to be thrown away on someone's apron] that, while admittedly are childish, aren't going to harm anyone. We just like having a good laugh. And that's one of the reasons people enjoy working at the dining hall- the people there are chill and like to have fun.

So, Claudzilla, I don't like your attitude. The only reason I've put up with you twice is because you're my boss. BUT, if I quit, I won't have to deal with you anymore. I guess you could say I took your vicious attitude against my friend personally, but don't worry- I know better. I'm quitting because I dislike the way you handle your employees and your job. I know you're lazy, and I know spend half the time in the back on your computer doing what you want. And you know what- that's okay. Just because you don't enjoy your job doesn't mean I have to be the same way.

I'll probably drop a nice two weeks' notice in your face when I get back. I won't stand for you being mean to April anymore. I've found your behaviour detestable and spiteful, and I don't enjoy working in that environment.

Don't think that my work subservience is because I respected you or honored you as a leader. You have failed to show any leadership qualities to me. Now, I never claimed to be a leader or act like one at work. But I HAVE been a good employee. I'm rarely late, and I try to make up as many hours as I can. I don't take no-shows lightly, and I don't take the job lightly.

You, however, seemed to take my employment VERY lightly. Sending me home for joking around with friends? Saying I become obnoxious simply by being around a close friend? Consistently being mean to people because you know they're affiliated with people you dislike?

There's a reason people at work dislike you, Claudia. Don't think it's because you run a tight ship or anything like that. No. It's because you take people's faults personally and you hurt people personally. It's not professional.

Treat everyone equally, and I'd say nothing. But I've seen you drop favoritism like babies drop poop.

You made a mistake when you turned my job into a joke. You thought I was treating it like one? No- I'm afraid you were. You crossed the line when you took the hate of a friend and tried to use it against me. Big mistake.

OVT is convenient. The hours are flexible. But working under an improfessional, spiteful, reluctant boss like you pushes people to their limits.

I've re-thought my decision. Perhaps two strikes is a little rash. Even my father employs the three-strikes-and-you're-out limit. So, Claudia, the next time you upset me, I will drop my two weeks' notice right in your face. And be careful- right now, there are many things you could do to upset me. And the moment you do, I'll say it. "Claudia, consider this my two weeks' notice." I won't say more or less. I'll say it calmly and simply.

And you know what else kind of bothers me? I haven't even really stepped outside of my Christian guidelines. I've been humble, subservient, and patient. I've endured your hatred of my friend, and I've endured the millions of awful stories I've heard about you.

If I stick around you much longer, I'm liable to do something very unChristian-like. Like tell you off to your face. And I really don't want to do that or be compelled to.

I'm still working on the bitterness and forgiveness issue.

So, one more chance, Claudia. One more.

Take it, and consider me gone.

Two weeks. Two weeks.

Slice of Pie

2006-08-12T22:48:00.000-07:00

I'm picky to the point of being persnickety. My music library is currently in the process of being weeded out. I suspect only half or a third of the music to survive. How many GB? 12. We'll see how this romp goes.

I went shopping today. I love Anthropologie. Too bad I'm poor.

And a few things I've realized: just because everyone likes something doesn't mean I have to like it. And just because I'm SUPPOSED to like something doesn't mean I do. Like in music. i don't like the beatles. Sorry, but they just doesn't tickle the pickle for me. And for some reason, Bjork doesn't really either. I like You've Been Flirting Again as well as Isobel. but out of the 20+ songs I've heard, those were the only two.

Persnickety. Tehe.

And you know what? Just because SOME people don't approve of pop music doesn't mean I can't.

A side note: i'm sick of your judgmental attitude. Stop. it's not cute.

Another side note: Sexual prowess doesn't mean maturity. Neither does a big vocabulary. And cruelty doesn't either.

But then again, who am I to talk about maturity? After all, I'm the girl who doesn't want to grow up. And i'm certainly not mature myself.

But I do have my preferences.

I wish i was thin framed and cute. I know my spot in life is to wear comfortable clothes [after all, that's my kind of beauty- comfort], but I still want to step out of my skin and wear something a little more uncomfortable once and awhile. Like whimsical shirts, tailored skirts, and tights.

But ::le sigh:: that's not me. Just like side-flipped hair isn't me either.

"They say i'm plain Jane but it's not the same. I not into big names but I like nice things."

Ehhhhhhhh. For someone whose beauty is comfort, she should be far more comfortable with herself. But I'm not.

I don't like being underestimated. Too bad that usually happens with authority figures. I guess that's why I have problems being subservient.

I'm not a feminist. I'm not conservative. I'm not liberal.

What do you label yourself as if you want all of your politics to follow Christ's philosophies??

lol. Christian?? Oy.

They say religion isn't supposed to mix with state... so should I move to a place where it does and where the religion is Christian? but what about "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and give to God what is God's?"

There's got to be a simpler way around this.

It's amazing how much you learn about people when you're away from them.

Love and Peace

Plan

2006-08-05T21:16:00.000-07:00

No matter how long you sit there, the answers won't come.

You're not the one for me.

Too-faced

2006-08-02T12:19:00.000-07:00

For some reason, adults who don't know whether to treat me like an adult or a kid always weird me out. Like, I guess I feel awkward because they feel awkward. Or maybe it's because after being a kid for so long, and now finally being treated like an adult by REAL adults, I'm the one who's just weirded out. Either way, I've come to a conclusion:

I am awkward with anyone who is five years within twice my age or older.

I guess what brings this up is what happened at the office today. Well, I was supposed to be manning phones and just sent this guy to one of the ladies who works here. Now, he had called a few times during the day concerning the same issue- he seemed to be one of those annoyingly thorough types [like question kids or people who ask numerous questions rather than trying to use common sense [ain't got no hate for them though, because i often think of myself similarly]]. Anyway, the woman who i've been directing the calls to directs the woman who i guess we can essentially label my director to talk privately in her office. They disappear behind a closed door.

The next thing I know, my boss comes out and says, "She [referring to the woman who i had sent the question-man to] can't take calls right now. Forward all calls to so-and-so."

Is it just me or did the woman probably ask my boss to tell me to stop bothering her with so many calls?

....

OKAY. You couldn't just tell me that to my face? I'm not 5. I can handle it if you tell me I'm doing my job wrong.

What I CAN'T handle is when people don't know whether to treat me like an adult or a child and somehow just end up treating me like both. Just because I've been quiet in this stifling office doesn't mean I'm normally quiet. Just because I've been meek surrounded by women twice my age doesn't mean I'm meek.

I'll admit- I'm intimidated by being in such a stereotypical "corporate world" setting. And now I KNOW I don't want to go into business or law. BUT, that doesn't mean I don't want to do my job right. If you don't want the calls, why not just tell me and save us both a bunch of really awkward moments?

The same lady received a fax and I left a sticky note on it telling her to feel free to tell me when she could or couldn't take calls. Hopefully she'll understand that I really could care less about whether I've offended someone and that I care more about doing my job right. Either way, about half an hour later, she came up to the receptionist desk and said she was going into a conference call and couldn't take phone calls.

Well then...

I mean, I actually really like all of the women here. They're really nice and a lot of them are very funny. It's a very pleasant place to be. But, I don't want everyone to be so worried about keeping the pleasance with me that they won't just tell me something they need to tell me TO MY FACE.

Ugh. I hate it when people do that- call it one of my pet peeves. Same thing happened in Yearbook (which is why I quit). If you don't have anything for me to do, don't get a supervisor/ editor to tell me to get out of the yearbook room and take pictures. I mean... are we in second grade, here? Just say it to my face.

Freaking ridiculous.

I mean, I don't want to offend people, and I do like respectfulness and fun in the workplace. But if I'm not doing my job right, just say it. And if I am, don't say anything.

Same thing goes for Claudzilla at OVT. -.- I do my job, and my ability to have fun has never hindered my work. I really don't see what's wrong with joking around and having fun at work so long as I get the job done right [which I do [though my portion control sucks because i give everyone the same amount of TOO MUCH because OVT freaking steals from students]]. If she even tries giving me attitude again this year just because I'm friends with April, I'm totally pushing a 2-weeks-notice right there on her face. Seriously. On the spot. And if she sends me home, fine. I'll go.

I do my job; I do it right. That's what's important to me. And if Claudzilla wants me to become a little suck-up clone at OVT, she's just gonna have to wait for a pig somewhere to grow some wings and fly.

Don't get me wrong. I'll do what she asks me to; I wanna be a good employee. But at the same time, I disagree that a good employee should be a dead one. And frankly, calling me obnoxious ON ACCOUNT OF A FRIEND is crossing the line. That REALLY made me mad. When you start getting personal with me, expect me to be personal back. And frankly, attacking one of my friends and trying to blame her for ME being rowdy is NOT a good way to handle the situation.

I've realized something else. Being around older people and people who don't have fun makes me become quiet and extremely introverted. When I'm at school or with my friends or even just my sister, I'm more carefree and able to let my real personality shine through. I mean, it's not because of my friends that I'm loud [like Claudzilla will say]. It's being around stuffy older people that makes me quiet [like I will say].

And in case you're wondering what that personality is like, it's LOUD and boisterous and spunky. It's up for having a Jesus-friendly good time, and it desperately wants to follow God.

And as much as Jesus was full of grace and kindness and love, He was also a party guy. This Man went to festivals, and He wanted us to rejoice and get DOWN with Him! And I dunno. Maybe I feel happy so much because He's always with me. That's why I'm usually brimming and bursting with loud dance and song because I'm REJOICING in life! [Even though God likes to keep me in check with that hindrance-of-an-education called SCHOOL... jk.]

Oy.

Anyway, the soundtrack I've lately been in love with is the one from Pride and Prejudice (2005). I LOVE that movie. It's SO good. And I've heard the BBC version's rad too, so I'll check that out some time.

The woman whose desk I'm using needs to learn that giving your wrists poor support will give yourself carpal tunnel. She puts her chair super-high so her arms always are awkward when it comes to typing. : (

Anyway, all done. werD up.

Love and Peace.

Eat It

2006-07-13T22:02:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to say that PHYS 2A and PSYC 60 EAT IT!