It's a party. It's a birthday party for heaven's sake. Why do i feel like i'm at a funeral, then?
It's a party. The resturaunt is beautiful. The soft glow of the emotional lights caress across the walls. The colors of everything matches some other counterpart, in order to make a "perfect" dining experience. All my friends are laughing and telling their stories. They are happy. I am jealous.
I told Johny a couple months ago that I was feeling left out, feeling alone.
Johny said, "When you get lonely like that, you gotta hang out with people."
I did. I thought it would "fix" itself. The fact remains though-- I am lonlier than ever. I don't comprehend the complexity of why my mind is telling me this. Why am I who I am? Why do I think this way?
Answers. There are answers for everything. Don't you believe so? I flash back to one question about how to live that my whole being tries to respond to correctly: "If you don't have tradition, if you don't have the Bible, if you don't have experience, what do you have?"
Two choices: A. Nothing; B. God.
I choose B. What does that mean? If I say that God is the only thing in my life that I really have and that really has me, what does that mean?
I don't know. What I do know, though, is that I can find out. How? By living. By not being another statistic, getting off my butt, trying hard, and deciding every minute of my life, to live. Actually live. Not to "have a good time" or check some goal on my "list of life goals", but to do what I think is right and to always be taking actions for the righteousness of what we have left.
I don't do that, do I? Why?
I'm lazy. Society teaches me to have "fun" and buy a bunch of USELESS CRAP I DON'T NEED. Some reason, I just don't think a new I-Pod will make me realize how good life is supposed to be.
I'm scared. To a calling I feel is right above anything else, I also feel like no one really gives a rat's behind about it. Sad. Sad, but true.
"Don't worry about them. Worry about yourself," Dad used to always say when I would wonder why my siblings weren't doing their chores.
I need to just go. Follow Christ how I see fit and let the dead bury themselves. We can't sit around waiting for God to literally pick us up and do it for us. No. That is not the love deemed righteous.
Things would make more sense, right?
Don't we all need to just live?
shalom.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
choices
i was prompted. i decided to start thinking.
i was challenged. i decided to understand myself.
i was overwhelmed. i decided to be myself.
i was inspired. i decided to do something.
i was impacted. i decided to be more impacted.
i was derailed. i decided to let life go on.
i was broken. i decided to let love go on.
i was emptied. i decided to be refilled.
i was blessed. i decided to complain.
i was offended. i decided to listen.
i was dissatisfied. i decided to live.
i was insulted. i decided to be tough.
i was complimented. i decided to be soft.
i was ignored. i decided to be loud.
i was noticed. i decided to be quiet.
i was agreed with. i decided to wonder.
i was disagreed with. i decided to learn.
i was questioned. i decided to answer.
i was answered. i decided to question.
i was hurt. i decided to heal.
i was scarred. i decided to remember.
i was forgiven. i decided to take it.
i was condemned. i decided to awaken.
i was loved. i decided to love back.
i was hated. i decided to love forward.
i was confused. i decided to wonder.
i was straighten. i decided to do.
i was lazy. i decided to act.
i was apathetic. i decided to care.
i was unaware. i decided to open my eyes.
i was sorry. i still am.
shalom.
i was challenged. i decided to understand myself.
i was overwhelmed. i decided to be myself.
i was inspired. i decided to do something.
i was impacted. i decided to be more impacted.
i was derailed. i decided to let life go on.
i was broken. i decided to let love go on.
i was emptied. i decided to be refilled.
i was blessed. i decided to complain.
i was offended. i decided to listen.
i was dissatisfied. i decided to live.
i was insulted. i decided to be tough.
i was complimented. i decided to be soft.
i was ignored. i decided to be loud.
i was noticed. i decided to be quiet.
i was agreed with. i decided to wonder.
i was disagreed with. i decided to learn.
i was questioned. i decided to answer.
i was answered. i decided to question.
i was hurt. i decided to heal.
i was scarred. i decided to remember.
i was forgiven. i decided to take it.
i was condemned. i decided to awaken.
i was loved. i decided to love back.
i was hated. i decided to love forward.
i was confused. i decided to wonder.
i was straighten. i decided to do.
i was lazy. i decided to act.
i was apathetic. i decided to care.
i was unaware. i decided to open my eyes.
i was sorry. i still am.
shalom.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
i wake up and come to mind.
Suddenly i wake up and come to mind. Open my eyes a couple of times and look around. Pastor Temple, Charlie, and i are sitting in this rather small room. We are all on our knees and sitting on our heels. The distinct smell of candles and darkness and mystery fill the room. Clammered yet organized the details begine to make the mystery even more real to me. Charlie and i are both face Pastor Temple, and he is facing us. In the middle of us lay a very small, yet ancient looking, book. I shudder all over just imagining the power in it.
"Are you ready to meet your Father in Heaven?" Asks Pastor Temple in the nicest way possible (which is the only way i have ever seen him speak to anyone). The wrinkles througout his face combine with this energetic look beaming out of his sparkling blue eyes and radiant smile. Short, gray hair makes the educated guess of his age even harder to make. Peace is written all over his body.
"Yes," Charlie answers. With some quizitiveness, i can't help but wonder why Charlie is here and why i am here. You see, Charlie used to go to the same youth group as i did back in highschool. This kid was huge. Almost as big and tall as i was, he was 4 years younger, and for being teenagers that difference means a lot. Charlie was usually always happy and smiling and just enjoying life. If everyone had to wear signs around there necks to how they were feeling, Charlie's would definitely say, "I dunno. Life seems good. I can't complain," but the goofy look on his face says it all. He always had his hands jammed in the front pocket of the same red hooded sweatshirt that he wore that had this big bulldog face on the front of it. Highlights in his short dirty-blonde hair. Charlie was going to youthgroup every week. We got to know him more each time. Learned about his living with his mom and brother in the locals projects and the other crap that you think would make someone bitter about life. Charlie stopped going to church and youth group. I heard he got mixed up in a lot of drugs and the usual rumors about someone who doesn't go to church regularly anymore. But for some reason he's with Pastor Temple and me. Peace is written all over his body.
"Okay," replies Temple, "let's begin." He picks up the small put between us and starts to read, stopping to ask questions and Charlie answers them. i sit and stare. Temple reads faster and faster, while remaining calm. I watch Charlie. His eyes roll back and his eyelids gently sweep closed. His head starts nodding down, bouncing inch by bouncing inch, until his head is to his knees and he simply falls over.
i wake up and come to mind. i look around and see my candle lit on the stand beside my bed. My alarm clock is blaring but i seem to be out of my element to care enough. i hit the top switch over. Weird. i lay there thinking. How lond did i sleep? My Bloc Party CD is not playing anymore. It's got to be at least a couple of hours. It's dark. I feel asleep to the sunset. My room has no windows so it's always dark there. The sunset was blocked out before, but it's definitely on another side of the earth now. Finding myself dumbfounded i lay. i lay not thinking.
i wake up and come to mind. i look around and see i am in the room again. Charlie's not here. Strange. Pastor Temple is here. He looks at me and says something to the affect of if i'm ready for the next "phase". i don't really know what he is talking about. when i start to think about it, i realize that i've been here for a while now. Apparently, we've already done the first phase. i don't know how long ago that we started. i know that i've been kept to myself because of all the spiritual dreams and spiritual nightmares i've been having. i know that the more time that passes by the easier it comes to just close my eyes and see things that i could never imagine. This feeling starts to scare me. I need to go out for a walk. "Feel the breeze against my face" kind of stuff. i swing my legs over the edged of the matress and stand up. i do feel quite weird. Nevertheless, i go see my friends-- for some reason, time seems to be short. Anyways.
We decide to go to the movies. The movie theatre is huge. i don't know what someone was thinking when they built it. It is remarkably beautiful, though-- stunning really. i make sure i sit next to the girl i secretly like. Half way through the movie i can't concentrate and her beauty is making this theatre gray and undetailed. Dare i show some concern? My time is short, right? Slide of the right hand down my brown coudorouys, like an avalanche going down canyons in slow motion. i accidentally touch her foot. "Hurry, act like you're being a goofball," i think to myself. My intent is blown. Awkward. i'm in trouble. Wait, though. Her hand is right there creeping closer. Dare i? My time is short, right? i go for it with no hesitation. i am happy. The rest of the movie is good, but i don't pay attention to hardly any. We are smiling. Everybody knows, but has no idea at the same time.
i wake up and come to mind. i look at the clock. it's six something. i lay there and try to wake up again. My eyes gently close together.
i wake up and come to mind. i look around. we are all walking down this gravel road going sideways on this huge hill. i hear some word that J.R. is running from the cops. No suprise, but still odd. J.R. is one of my roomates up at the churhc. He's 19, wears girls pants, and writes music. A true friend. We laugh about whatever we find funny and think about whatever we deem serious thinking material. He writes his music. I try to write mine. We both skip showers and we both live together. He is happy, by the looks of his smile.
His running from the cops seems serious because of all the helicopters. i try to just ignore the intensity and let the fresh, summer air hit my senses. My experience is interrupted again because i see J.R. sneaking and ducking on the side of the hill. Dang nabbit. As we come up to him, this minivan comes screeching beside us. They start asking questions about J.R. and about how i need to go back to the church for my "experience". They have no idea that in the deep grass, J.R. is laying. We all pile in the van and J.R. schimmy's his way to the roof some how. We're off. Once again i am "in it". All i can think about is them not seeing J.R. and what is gonna happen when i get back to the church during my "experience". Am i gonna die? If so, what is the point? This makes no sense.
We arrive at the church and erupt out of the van. Everybody goes to one of the offices to hang out. I go to "that room" and Heath, my brother, follows me. The "next phase" begins. Heath and I wait on our knees for Pastor Temple. The thoughts and fears in my mind are spinning like a tornadoe in a bottle. "Why is this going on?" i think to myself. It just doesn't make sense. Pastor Temple walks in and we begin immediately. Temple asks me questions and i answer as best as possible. Heath adds his little tid-bits too. i look at him sternfully and give him a brotherly "shutup". Temple picks up the book and starts reading. i can feel my mind and heart doing something. i start thinking of those i love. i think of my siblings, i think of my friends, i think of the girl i like.
i freak out. "Stop. We have to stop. This doesn't make any sense. Why can't i just live?"
"You want to be in heaven with your Father, right?" asks Temple.
"Yes, but why can't i do it the hard way?" iask more and more questions. i start to cry. i stand up and storm into the other offices. The pastors say things like, "i knew we shouldn't have picked his brother," and other "wise" things. "Wise" to me is a term being used more and more freely every second i am here. i cry some more and ask questions. "i don't know why i'm doing this and i saw what happened to Charlie-"
"That's what happened to Charlie?" says one of the youth in the office. He sprints out the door to tell the others.
Oh no," states one of the pastor matter-of-factly, "Now this is great." They look at me in huge dissapointment. The chaos rises and rises.
i wake up and come to mind. i look around. the candle is lit beside my bed on the stand. i'm not gonna lay back down this time.
shalom.
"Are you ready to meet your Father in Heaven?" Asks Pastor Temple in the nicest way possible (which is the only way i have ever seen him speak to anyone). The wrinkles througout his face combine with this energetic look beaming out of his sparkling blue eyes and radiant smile. Short, gray hair makes the educated guess of his age even harder to make. Peace is written all over his body.
"Yes," Charlie answers. With some quizitiveness, i can't help but wonder why Charlie is here and why i am here. You see, Charlie used to go to the same youth group as i did back in highschool. This kid was huge. Almost as big and tall as i was, he was 4 years younger, and for being teenagers that difference means a lot. Charlie was usually always happy and smiling and just enjoying life. If everyone had to wear signs around there necks to how they were feeling, Charlie's would definitely say, "I dunno. Life seems good. I can't complain," but the goofy look on his face says it all. He always had his hands jammed in the front pocket of the same red hooded sweatshirt that he wore that had this big bulldog face on the front of it. Highlights in his short dirty-blonde hair. Charlie was going to youthgroup every week. We got to know him more each time. Learned about his living with his mom and brother in the locals projects and the other crap that you think would make someone bitter about life. Charlie stopped going to church and youth group. I heard he got mixed up in a lot of drugs and the usual rumors about someone who doesn't go to church regularly anymore. But for some reason he's with Pastor Temple and me. Peace is written all over his body.
"Okay," replies Temple, "let's begin." He picks up the small put between us and starts to read, stopping to ask questions and Charlie answers them. i sit and stare. Temple reads faster and faster, while remaining calm. I watch Charlie. His eyes roll back and his eyelids gently sweep closed. His head starts nodding down, bouncing inch by bouncing inch, until his head is to his knees and he simply falls over.
i wake up and come to mind. i look around and see my candle lit on the stand beside my bed. My alarm clock is blaring but i seem to be out of my element to care enough. i hit the top switch over. Weird. i lay there thinking. How lond did i sleep? My Bloc Party CD is not playing anymore. It's got to be at least a couple of hours. It's dark. I feel asleep to the sunset. My room has no windows so it's always dark there. The sunset was blocked out before, but it's definitely on another side of the earth now. Finding myself dumbfounded i lay. i lay not thinking.
i wake up and come to mind. i look around and see i am in the room again. Charlie's not here. Strange. Pastor Temple is here. He looks at me and says something to the affect of if i'm ready for the next "phase". i don't really know what he is talking about. when i start to think about it, i realize that i've been here for a while now. Apparently, we've already done the first phase. i don't know how long ago that we started. i know that i've been kept to myself because of all the spiritual dreams and spiritual nightmares i've been having. i know that the more time that passes by the easier it comes to just close my eyes and see things that i could never imagine. This feeling starts to scare me. I need to go out for a walk. "Feel the breeze against my face" kind of stuff. i swing my legs over the edged of the matress and stand up. i do feel quite weird. Nevertheless, i go see my friends-- for some reason, time seems to be short. Anyways.
We decide to go to the movies. The movie theatre is huge. i don't know what someone was thinking when they built it. It is remarkably beautiful, though-- stunning really. i make sure i sit next to the girl i secretly like. Half way through the movie i can't concentrate and her beauty is making this theatre gray and undetailed. Dare i show some concern? My time is short, right? Slide of the right hand down my brown coudorouys, like an avalanche going down canyons in slow motion. i accidentally touch her foot. "Hurry, act like you're being a goofball," i think to myself. My intent is blown. Awkward. i'm in trouble. Wait, though. Her hand is right there creeping closer. Dare i? My time is short, right? i go for it with no hesitation. i am happy. The rest of the movie is good, but i don't pay attention to hardly any. We are smiling. Everybody knows, but has no idea at the same time.
i wake up and come to mind. i look at the clock. it's six something. i lay there and try to wake up again. My eyes gently close together.
i wake up and come to mind. i look around. we are all walking down this gravel road going sideways on this huge hill. i hear some word that J.R. is running from the cops. No suprise, but still odd. J.R. is one of my roomates up at the churhc. He's 19, wears girls pants, and writes music. A true friend. We laugh about whatever we find funny and think about whatever we deem serious thinking material. He writes his music. I try to write mine. We both skip showers and we both live together. He is happy, by the looks of his smile.
His running from the cops seems serious because of all the helicopters. i try to just ignore the intensity and let the fresh, summer air hit my senses. My experience is interrupted again because i see J.R. sneaking and ducking on the side of the hill. Dang nabbit. As we come up to him, this minivan comes screeching beside us. They start asking questions about J.R. and about how i need to go back to the church for my "experience". They have no idea that in the deep grass, J.R. is laying. We all pile in the van and J.R. schimmy's his way to the roof some how. We're off. Once again i am "in it". All i can think about is them not seeing J.R. and what is gonna happen when i get back to the church during my "experience". Am i gonna die? If so, what is the point? This makes no sense.
We arrive at the church and erupt out of the van. Everybody goes to one of the offices to hang out. I go to "that room" and Heath, my brother, follows me. The "next phase" begins. Heath and I wait on our knees for Pastor Temple. The thoughts and fears in my mind are spinning like a tornadoe in a bottle. "Why is this going on?" i think to myself. It just doesn't make sense. Pastor Temple walks in and we begin immediately. Temple asks me questions and i answer as best as possible. Heath adds his little tid-bits too. i look at him sternfully and give him a brotherly "shutup". Temple picks up the book and starts reading. i can feel my mind and heart doing something. i start thinking of those i love. i think of my siblings, i think of my friends, i think of the girl i like.
i freak out. "Stop. We have to stop. This doesn't make any sense. Why can't i just live?"
"You want to be in heaven with your Father, right?" asks Temple.
"Yes, but why can't i do it the hard way?" iask more and more questions. i start to cry. i stand up and storm into the other offices. The pastors say things like, "i knew we shouldn't have picked his brother," and other "wise" things. "Wise" to me is a term being used more and more freely every second i am here. i cry some more and ask questions. "i don't know why i'm doing this and i saw what happened to Charlie-"
"That's what happened to Charlie?" says one of the youth in the office. He sprints out the door to tell the others.
Oh no," states one of the pastor matter-of-factly, "Now this is great." They look at me in huge dissapointment. The chaos rises and rises.
i wake up and come to mind. i look around. the candle is lit beside my bed on the stand. i'm not gonna lay back down this time.
shalom.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Regrets and Misunderstandings of a Soul
okay, so i can't fall asleep because something is bugging my mind.
Have you ever thought this: "why did i say that???!??"
that sucks. i can't take it back. it's there. it's my flaw forever. it's my cockiness. my know-it-all attitude. it's my evidence of whatever.
it's my chance that i blew to show my heart.
i got into a conversation about girls. i got kind of heated about the topic and ranted about how i don't want to date and how i don't like girls and how i don't blah blah blah.
all that i know is that the point i wanted to get across, did not get across. rather, i just sounded like a huge jerk that hates girls.
well i am a huge jerk, but i do not hate girls. i hate dating. only because of what it has become and because of how unatural it feels and because i feel like it's not part of what i am.
that does not mean i am right.
no, matter of fact, i'm am probably wrong. the fact is, i probably just don't know what "i am". i probably don't understand because i have never experienced it as an actual selfless act on my part.
me and my big, stupid mouth.
you ever get that thought like: "why do they think that?"
people compliment you and you're like "i don't see that." maybe i'm just way too self-critical, but i just want to respond to big compliments like, "your amazing," with, "if you only knew me for who i truely was... if you only knew me in my incompleteness, in my loneliness, in my lack of discipline, in my two-facedness, in times when i do things you don't think i do... if you only knew..."
i don't know where i'm going with this. i just know it's there. in my heart.
shalom (hopefully).
shalom (hopefully).
Have you ever thought this: "why did i say that???!??"
that sucks. i can't take it back. it's there. it's my flaw forever. it's my cockiness. my know-it-all attitude. it's my evidence of whatever.
it's my chance that i blew to show my heart.
i got into a conversation about girls. i got kind of heated about the topic and ranted about how i don't want to date and how i don't like girls and how i don't blah blah blah.
all that i know is that the point i wanted to get across, did not get across. rather, i just sounded like a huge jerk that hates girls.
well i am a huge jerk, but i do not hate girls. i hate dating. only because of what it has become and because of how unatural it feels and because i feel like it's not part of what i am.
that does not mean i am right.
no, matter of fact, i'm am probably wrong. the fact is, i probably just don't know what "i am". i probably don't understand because i have never experienced it as an actual selfless act on my part.
me and my big, stupid mouth.
you ever get that thought like: "why do they think that?"
people compliment you and you're like "i don't see that." maybe i'm just way too self-critical, but i just want to respond to big compliments like, "your amazing," with, "if you only knew me for who i truely was... if you only knew me in my incompleteness, in my loneliness, in my lack of discipline, in my two-facedness, in times when i do things you don't think i do... if you only knew..."
i don't know where i'm going with this. i just know it's there. in my heart.
shalom (hopefully).
shalom (hopefully).
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
thank you
so, i was talking to a dear friend.
this friend said something about me.
i had never hear this something before.
the person said that i go around looking.
looking for someone to care
so that i may share my heart with them.
it's weird, because deep down i knew that.
but that's the first time i heard
i heard the truth about myself
it's weird, to think that someone might know
and that i don't know myself.
i broke down
i was already broke down
but that was the straw that broke
that broke this camel's back
to a point where i was on the ground
my face in the brown water
my hands stuck in the mud
my friend says, "i'm sorry."
but i can only say "thank you."
i couldn't pull myself up and neither could she.
the only way to get out was to die.
i told her to walk away
and there i lay
i lay staring, and i pray
"i die now and you take it from here
i die now and you just take it
i die now and please please just take it"
so weary, my eyelids fall into one another.
black
black
black
fade away from me now and let all i see be black
my eyes open and i can only ask,
"am i dead?"
yes. yes i am dead.
but this makes me so more alive.
a breath i don't undestand breathes in me.
a thought i don't comprehend moves me.
people in my life that i don't know, love me.
and that when my life begins.
shalom.
this friend said something about me.
i had never hear this something before.
the person said that i go around looking.
looking for someone to care
so that i may share my heart with them.
it's weird, because deep down i knew that.
but that's the first time i heard
i heard the truth about myself
it's weird, to think that someone might know
and that i don't know myself.
i broke down
i was already broke down
but that was the straw that broke
that broke this camel's back
to a point where i was on the ground
my face in the brown water
my hands stuck in the mud
my friend says, "i'm sorry."
but i can only say "thank you."
i couldn't pull myself up and neither could she.
the only way to get out was to die.
i told her to walk away
and there i lay
i lay staring, and i pray
"i die now and you take it from here
i die now and you just take it
i die now and please please just take it"
so weary, my eyelids fall into one another.
black
black
black
fade away from me now and let all i see be black
my eyes open and i can only ask,
"am i dead?"
yes. yes i am dead.
but this makes me so more alive.
a breath i don't undestand breathes in me.
a thought i don't comprehend moves me.
people in my life that i don't know, love me.
and that when my life begins.
shalom.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Everybody dies. Not everybody truly lives.
I once wrote a blot about ellipsis. It talked about how everything was okay because we have ellipsis, we have a choice to change things. I want to clarify (partly just because I heard a great quote from Garden State and partly because I want to). We have what we have right now.
I was talking with one of my awesome friends about what we would do if we only had a year to live. We came to some sort of conclusion (if it can be called that) that we should live like we were gonna die soon. Now, I could be saying this like some sort of trendy catch-phrase thrower, but I am not. I am saying this like I want it to seep down into your bones and move you (like those sea turtles on Finding Nemo who go in that big Australian current):
YOu hAve ToDAy. ToMMOrow iS nOt yoURs to OWn.
"Live Like You're Dying."
Life. I think I am understanding a little more of it.
To live is to have passion. It is to acknowledge what you have right now. You have life. You could not have it. That's how you live. You take the oppurtunity of this great gift because, for all you know, you could not have this gift.
let it sink... let it sink...
I was talking with one of my awesome friends about what we would do if we only had a year to live. We came to some sort of conclusion (if it can be called that) that we should live like we were gonna die soon. Now, I could be saying this like some sort of trendy catch-phrase thrower, but I am not. I am saying this like I want it to seep down into your bones and move you (like those sea turtles on Finding Nemo who go in that big Australian current):
YOu hAve ToDAy. ToMMOrow iS nOt yoURs to OWn.
"Live Like You're Dying."
Life. I think I am understanding a little more of it.
To live is to have passion. It is to acknowledge what you have right now. You have life. You could not have it. That's how you live. You take the oppurtunity of this great gift because, for all you know, you could not have this gift.
let it sink... let it sink...
let it sink...
let it sink... let it sink...
cliche, or whatever, the fact remains that if you truly understand this more and you'll get 'it' more.
shalom.
Friday, January 06, 2006
switchfoot's lonely nation
She turns like the ocean.She tells no emotion.She's been gunning down the fight.She's just reminiscing.Blood, sweat, and one thing's missing.She's been breaking up inside, inside.
Singing without tongues.Screaming without lungs.I want more than a lonely nation.I want more than a lonely nation.Desperate we are young.Seperate we are one.I want more than my desperation.I Want more than my lonely nation.
We are the target market.We set the corporate target.We are slaves of what we want.We're just numb and amused.And we're just used to bad news.We are slaves of what we want.
Singing without tongues.Screaming without lungs.I want more than a lonely nation.I want more than a lonely nation.Desperate we are young.Seperate we are one.I want more than my desperation.I Want more than my lonely nation.
Lonely, lonely.Don't leave me home.I'm tired.Don't leave me home.I'm tired of feeling low.Feeling low.I'm tired of feeling low.Feeling low.I'm tired of feeling low.Feeling low.I'm tired of feeling low.Feeling low.Feeling low.Feeling low.
Singing without tongues.Screaming without lungs.Want more than my desperation.I want more than my lonely nation.Desperate we are young.Separate we are one.I want more than my lonely nation.I want more than my lonely nation.I want more than my lonely nation.I want more than my lonely nation.
Singing without tongues.Screaming without lungs.I want more than a lonely nation.I want more than a lonely nation.Desperate we are young.Seperate we are one.I want more than my desperation.I Want more than my lonely nation.
We are the target market.We set the corporate target.We are slaves of what we want.We're just numb and amused.And we're just used to bad news.We are slaves of what we want.
Singing without tongues.Screaming without lungs.I want more than a lonely nation.I want more than a lonely nation.Desperate we are young.Seperate we are one.I want more than my desperation.I Want more than my lonely nation.
Lonely, lonely.Don't leave me home.I'm tired.Don't leave me home.I'm tired of feeling low.Feeling low.I'm tired of feeling low.Feeling low.I'm tired of feeling low.Feeling low.I'm tired of feeling low.Feeling low.Feeling low.Feeling low.
Singing without tongues.Screaming without lungs.Want more than my desperation.I want more than my lonely nation.Desperate we are young.Separate we are one.I want more than my lonely nation.I want more than my lonely nation.I want more than my lonely nation.I want more than my lonely nation.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
all things go
now listening to: sufjan stevens
i know i just preached a whole stinkin' lesson on asking for forgiveness and not letting the sun set on your rage, but, seriously, how fricking hard is that?
my freaking brain is about to freaking explode. i don't think i have ever truly experienced rage until this very evening. I know what will set my trigger of endless death and mass destruction. DO NOT SCREW WITH THE ONES I WILL LOVE. Love, i do not understand it. how can i love someone so much that i could hate someonewho hurts them? how can that be, especially if i am to love like christ? i know it is wrong.
i feel it oh so deep within me this battle coming forth, the depths of hell versusthe heights of heaven. who will win? who will win? who will win?
i hope it is the good. i can only hope. i can only hope that i am not tested onto a point to where i can not take anymore. I CANNOT TAKE ANYMORE, this i am almost sure of. i am sick of trying to love. the more i try, the more i hate. i am so f-ed up i don't know what i needs to be going on inside my head and heart in order to win this war. my jaw clenches with every chew of mint, so that i may not let my tongue leash out and kill all. my fist clenches with every jolt of electric rage that bursts through it like super lighting storms. will i? won't i? what is the decision? let me know, let me know, let me know...
Sufjan, sing to me and give me wisdom. with this anger, with this passion, how do i focus it? how do i channel this lightning within me? with the power of God and the help of an all powerful, how do i die, so that this power may live?
you know the answer, but you do not know the answer. you do not know the answer. i am not alone. i am alone. there's nothing new under the sun, but God has made me different from you. my answer is in me and is in him. my answer is not your answer. i am not you. i do not need advice. i need an ear. i do not need an example, i need you to be with. i need you. i need you without the pride, with out the help, with out the solution, but with the heart. just the heart.
"i fell in love again,
all things go, all things go...
i made a lot of mistakes,
in my life, in my life...
if i was crying,
in the van, with my friend,
it was for freedom,
from my self, and from the land,
i made a lot of mistakes
i made a lot of mistakes
i made a lot of mistakes"
shalom.
i know i just preached a whole stinkin' lesson on asking for forgiveness and not letting the sun set on your rage, but, seriously, how fricking hard is that?
my freaking brain is about to freaking explode. i don't think i have ever truly experienced rage until this very evening. I know what will set my trigger of endless death and mass destruction. DO NOT SCREW WITH THE ONES I WILL LOVE. Love, i do not understand it. how can i love someone so much that i could hate someonewho hurts them? how can that be, especially if i am to love like christ? i know it is wrong.
i feel it oh so deep within me this battle coming forth, the depths of hell versusthe heights of heaven. who will win? who will win? who will win?
i hope it is the good. i can only hope. i can only hope that i am not tested onto a point to where i can not take anymore. I CANNOT TAKE ANYMORE, this i am almost sure of. i am sick of trying to love. the more i try, the more i hate. i am so f-ed up i don't know what i needs to be going on inside my head and heart in order to win this war. my jaw clenches with every chew of mint, so that i may not let my tongue leash out and kill all. my fist clenches with every jolt of electric rage that bursts through it like super lighting storms. will i? won't i? what is the decision? let me know, let me know, let me know...
Sufjan, sing to me and give me wisdom. with this anger, with this passion, how do i focus it? how do i channel this lightning within me? with the power of God and the help of an all powerful, how do i die, so that this power may live?
you know the answer, but you do not know the answer. you do not know the answer. i am not alone. i am alone. there's nothing new under the sun, but God has made me different from you. my answer is in me and is in him. my answer is not your answer. i am not you. i do not need advice. i need an ear. i do not need an example, i need you to be with. i need you. i need you without the pride, with out the help, with out the solution, but with the heart. just the heart.
"i fell in love again,
all things go, all things go...
i made a lot of mistakes,
in my life, in my life...
if i was crying,
in the van, with my friend,
it was for freedom,
from my self, and from the land,
i made a lot of mistakes
i made a lot of mistakes
i made a lot of mistakes"
shalom.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
do not let the sun set upon your rage
i storm out of the building, ignoring all the voices echoing my name in a straining/concerned manner.
Slam. A twist of the key and a push of the pedal sends me screeching out of the parking lot with no regrets in my mind and nothing but rage in my hands.
Squeak. The car come to the stop sign. i can only turn left or right. i cannot keep moving forward (at least in the sense i think of). i have to make a choice. do i go away or do i go towards? do i face the problem or face the open road?
suddenly rage spews out of me like an ancient volcanoe that has waited oh so long to destroy all that resembles beauty. noises so loud and vision so red.
thoughts battle each other like the war of the new world is being held at hand. Clash, bang, clank...
then silence.
Click, click, click... Right turn signal. towards the lights and gutters.
clear consience reveals the battle scars. it hurts. this physical state of crying, this emotional strain called trying, this spiritual peace of a thing called apologizing.
Apologizing sucks.
People think apologizing means saying, "I'm sorry... but..."
it's hard just to apologize and not say the but.
to just take that blame. not to try to make people share it with you.
it helps. it does.
it's funny that we don't realize that most of the time, the harder way is the right way.
it's funny that we don't realize how often this choices are given to be made.
it's the new year. everyone's hype is out of the roof. once this day is over. life is back to normal.
it's funny that we don't realize the choices we make and how they will affect eternity.
it's funny that we don't realize how taking the blame helps others more than just telling how people need to fix themselves.
shalom.
Slam. A twist of the key and a push of the pedal sends me screeching out of the parking lot with no regrets in my mind and nothing but rage in my hands.
Squeak. The car come to the stop sign. i can only turn left or right. i cannot keep moving forward (at least in the sense i think of). i have to make a choice. do i go away or do i go towards? do i face the problem or face the open road?
suddenly rage spews out of me like an ancient volcanoe that has waited oh so long to destroy all that resembles beauty. noises so loud and vision so red.
thoughts battle each other like the war of the new world is being held at hand. Clash, bang, clank...
then silence.
Click, click, click... Right turn signal. towards the lights and gutters.
clear consience reveals the battle scars. it hurts. this physical state of crying, this emotional strain called trying, this spiritual peace of a thing called apologizing.
Apologizing sucks.
People think apologizing means saying, "I'm sorry... but..."
it's hard just to apologize and not say the but.
to just take that blame. not to try to make people share it with you.
it helps. it does.
it's funny that we don't realize that most of the time, the harder way is the right way.
it's funny that we don't realize how often this choices are given to be made.
it's the new year. everyone's hype is out of the roof. once this day is over. life is back to normal.
it's funny that we don't realize the choices we make and how they will affect eternity.
it's funny that we don't realize how taking the blame helps others more than just telling how people need to fix themselves.
shalom.
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