We All Want to Be Heard.

Now listening to: Neva Dinova / Stephanie Drootin

I just slept sixteen hours... in a row.
It's not like I had anything better to do.
Well, I mean, it's not like I was going to do anything better.
There's quite a difference in those two.

----
new subject:

I don't know if I'm the only one who thinks this, but...
Is it me or does everyone want their voice heard? Maybe it's just an American thing, but I feel this pressing emotion to make pictures, songs, poems, books, etc. so that people see them and those people are affected by their "voice". And (it seems) that mostly everyone feels the same way. Whether it be with art, music, science, history, etc.
Everyone just wants to be heard.
I think it's ironic, though.
If everyone wants to be heard, who is going to listen? How will the greater good prevail? It's like the truth is the truth, and has been complete before anything began. Yet, we all add in our two cents, so that we can tell people what the truth is, but, really, we are just trying to be heard. With the moral dilemma of listening to everyone/ being open minded and of judging logic/being discerning, how do we expect to get anywhere without telling someone to shut the hell up. We can't. Thus, we have some other option to turn down the over-indulgence of noise: By being quiet.

The only real reason I thought of this was because I'm pretty sure Jesus Christ (who was perfect) did not write a book, make a song, or an art masterpiece.

He lived/loved more than he talked, I think.

And that makes me think,
that in a time of voices,
what the world needs
is a set of ears.

This is so ironic, though.
Because I'm writing this with the intention that my voice will be heard.
Ha!! This is such a f#(* show!


shalom.


P.S. Pick up line of the day:
Do you have Lego's in your pocket, too?
Because I feel like we have a connection.

everything has changed

now listening to: William Fitzsimmons' myspace page.


I remember being in college and being so passionate about so many things. I remember thinking, "I am not going to lose this passion like everyone else when they get older."

should I decide it's true...

I remember thinking it. I remember feeling it. I don't remember believing it. I remember actually being scared that it would happen to me as well. I didn't know what to do about it, so what did I do? I tried to figure out what to do. What does that look like? Like ten cups of coffee, a pack of cigarettes, and a greasy spoon diner. I still wonder if it was even worth talking about over and over and over and over and over...

everyday's another chance to bury my regret.
everyday's another chance to make it,
but i can't.
but i can't.

The therapist in training tried to give me advice, but I think we both saw nothing wrong with who I am trying to be. I still feel incomplete, worthless, and lazy. I know something is not fully right.

Everything has changed...

My dreams are getting more vivid as I get older, though. We all floated down the safe part of a river. I fell down the plunging waterfalls and rapids and almost died in the dam at the end of it. Then my mother's apartment was abandoned, dark, and dirty. There was a dead body with maggots in the mouth. The dead man was me.

Then who was I?



shalom.

"From, God"

I have an interview for disability (again).
I don't know what to expect.
Actually, I expect to be screwed over (like usual).
It's not really my place to expect.
That affects my prayers.
I don't know if I should feel bad about it.

Sorry, I just realized how self-centered I can be about my problems.

On a better note...

Roses are red, Violets are blue.
This is really boring. What else is there to do?

Oh, right:
So, I was reading old comments from previous posts and someone was commenting for a while and signing it, "From, God."
I really hate when people do that. Like those billboards that say, "We haven't talked in a while. --God."
That's dumb and obnoxious. I do feel sad for the people who are afraid to confess to what they write. It's not like anyone would be dissapointed if they wrote it and God didn't. In fact, acting like you're God is dissapointing and disturbing. I could see if you wrote, "I think God would say..."

I'm sorry if we're very close and I know you, God-signer-person. I see your intention, but that's about it. I do love you.

shalom.

Juices, Aristotle, and Happiness.

Sorry.
Haven't written anything for a while.
No creative juices flowing.

And I'm contemplating the relevance of Aristotle.

He says that the biggest goal we can have is happiness.
That's what he says should be the ultimate and beginning goal, also.

Everything we choose should have the goal of making us ultimately happy, therefore we need to keep that in mind by analysing ourselves and our actions in order to make the appropriate choices to find happiness; not just choices that give us pleasure or ease or comfort.

Those aren't necessarily bad things, but they should not be the ends in themselves. We should seek the largest/greatest thing for the end to the purpose of our lives that is reflected on our choices.

I don't know if I fully agree, because I do see God as the ultimate goal. I see love as the ultimate goal. Then again, most people who loved God the most were joyful people. So, I'm at this stage of not really knowing and debating how I either pursue God with all of my actions, pursue love with all of my actions, and/or pursue happiness with all of my actions.

I realize that I may be a little too young and ambitious to be studying this kind of philosophy. It's almost impossible to strip everything down to it's bear essentials and see if it points to happiness, right now, at least. I feel like I have too many factors to think about. Maybe I'm just complicating it because I'm scared. I'm not really sure.

But, if I get any answers on what it looks like to pursue ultimate happiness, I let you know.

And, I wouldn't be offended if you told me something you found out, either.

shalom.

p.s. I wasn't even planning to write

more than the first three lines!!!

Case Of the Mondays.

now listening to: Fewer Moving Parts by David Bazan

Week got knocked up and had seven children; each carrying a piece of her in themselves.

Sunday was easy going and didn't work, but went to church and did interesting things like going on long drives and what-not.

Monday was too disciplined and a workaholic, but had good intentions.
Everyone hated Monday, because Monday reminded them how lazy they were.
It's not like Tuesday was any better.

Tuesday went to work too, but didn't stick out enough for anyone to haze with insults; the invisible middle child. She was only really thought about when people would ask which sibling was here and the reply was, "I think it's Tuesday."

Wednesday was technically the middle child, but because so, he got a lot of attention for being in the middle. He got a nickname for it, even.

Thursday was laid back and liked watching a lot of television. Thursday wanted to be like the fun siblings-- Friday and Saturday, but had to remember that he had to go to work in the morning.

Friday was a party animal and did not worry about waking up early. He worked but he was always checked out because his mind was more interested in having fun.

Saturday usually just tried to be like Friday, but Saturday sometimes had a guilty consience about what Sunday may think if she didn't wake up early for church.

I always felt bad for Monday.
What did Monday do to anyone?
Nothing.



shalom.

This vessel is a sinking ship.
It's taking me down with it.



shalom.

but just cannot.

now listening to: Make up your Mind by Brendan Losch






" "






i wish i could think.
i wish i could know what i want.

but i just cannot.

i wish my mind would open.

i wish my mind would let me in on its secrets.

but it just cannot.

shalom?

My Sister. Not Yours.

Nowlistening to: The Avett Brothers introduce "EMOTIONALISM"

My little sister Rachel is awesome, she just bought me this CD!
How cool is that?

Yeah, she's my sister.


Shalom.

middle ground

now listening to: samantha tobey




I keep thinking about what I need to do.
No possiblities. No dreams. Just the fact that I need to do something.
Shall I do what my heart yearns for,
And suffer the financial consequences?
Do I pack up and move to Tibet?
Do I become homeless?
Do I pick up my piece of responsibility,
And suffer the spiritual consequences?
Do I apply for a job with passion involved, but has money?
Do I sit and wait for government funding to do the work?
Am I too extreme?
Is there a middle ground?
There usually is.
I hate middle ground.
I would like to be climbing a mountain,
Or wondering through a dark valley.
I do not see beauty in middle ground.
I don't even know where I am.
All this debating in my mind has seen to place myself in the middle ground.

Someone witty would say this, "Foreground and Background don't make a beautiful painting. You have to have middle ground too." I would want to slap them for saying that.

shalom.

dear coffee,

You are so tasty.
I wish you were endless,
So I could throw you on my couch
and make out with you forever.


shalom.

14 Parts of My Life.

Lay. Sleep. Wake. Arise.
Pour. Stir. Sip.
Dress. Inhale. Exhale.
Sit. Strum. Sing.

shalom.

Jesus Christ, have you left my friends?

now listening to: city and colour


There's this thing going around with a lot of the people around me.

They have seemed to have stopped believing in Jesus Christ.

I may be wrong. That's why I write it, "seems," that way. When I look at them and try to describe what I feel, that is what comes out.

I feel sad that that is the case.

I am no evangelist.

I couldn't change their minds.

I wouldn't want to change anyone.

I just want to love them,

And I want them to feel loved.

I know feeling loved is hard.

But a lot of the time it's all I have.

It may sound stupid,
but Jesus Christ is the only reason
I'm not dead right now.
I know that sounds cliche,
but I don't mean it that way.

Shalom.

back to pa

I slept eighteen hours.
The t.v. is always on.
It is snowing dangerously.
The cat is heavier.
I'm on the computer a lot.
The car is almost done working.
I still don't know what to do.
Welfare.
Disability.
Debt.
I still don't know what I want.


shalom.

time.

i'm in anderson.
life is the same as pennsylvania.
my life is not where it should.
maybe i'm afraid.
of getting stuck.
but that's what happens anyways.
i get stuck.

maybe time is against me.
it passes by me to tell me
of all the great things it has experienced without me.
i am jealous.

but i just wait until time will decide to call me.
and say, "wanna go out somewhere."
and i will say, "about time."
and time will smile and say, "i know."


but that will never happen.

shalom.