Breathe.
shalom.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Awkward Eyes
I hate when I see someone and they keep looking at me in an odd fashion.
I start thinking, "Why is this person so awkward?" There is just something about the way they catch eye-contact with me, that it just sends a chill to the bone. It drives me crazy. It almost hurts. They keep doing it, whether they realize it or not. It's only how I could imagine a monster would be looked at-- the person looking in awe, like, "No. That's not a monster. Right? Or is it? It has to be a monster. Just look at it. Oh, my gosh, it's a monster."
When someone looks at me like that, my brain can't help but to wonder why. Do I know her from some where? I think I do. Her face is very familiar. I have to know her from some where.
So, what do I do?
I go on Facebook. I do give them props for their accomplishment. It deletes the necessity to walk up to someone and say, "Where do I know you from?"
Anyways, it clicks.
She is that person. That really good friend to So-and-so. So-and-so must have told her about the huge mistakes I've made, probably because my mistakes affected So-and-so.
She is that person. She is that girl that thinks I am a piece of crap. Now I got it.
The thing is, I know I'm a piece of crap, so what am I supposed to do?
Here is why I am so bothered: I feel as if most people I know don't want to be my friend because of the huge mistakes I've made. It may not be true, I may just be a lousy friend.
I'm in Anderson, where all my friends are. I feel lonely. I feel like it's my fault for getting sick and depressed. I feel like it's my fault for leaving to get better. I feel like I've lost some sort of connection that won't ever be correct again. I feel like I truly don't understand anyone here any more. That sucks.
It may not be true. It's probably not true, but it's so hard not to believe when you can't stop yourself from feeling that way. And, I'm not pointing fingers, and I'm not writing this so people feel bad. I'm just being honest. I'm just saying this is how I feel and I hate it.
I feel as if I'm alone.
Shalom.
I start thinking, "Why is this person so awkward?" There is just something about the way they catch eye-contact with me, that it just sends a chill to the bone. It drives me crazy. It almost hurts. They keep doing it, whether they realize it or not. It's only how I could imagine a monster would be looked at-- the person looking in awe, like, "No. That's not a monster. Right? Or is it? It has to be a monster. Just look at it. Oh, my gosh, it's a monster."
When someone looks at me like that, my brain can't help but to wonder why. Do I know her from some where? I think I do. Her face is very familiar. I have to know her from some where.
So, what do I do?
I go on Facebook. I do give them props for their accomplishment. It deletes the necessity to walk up to someone and say, "Where do I know you from?"
Anyways, it clicks.
She is that person. That really good friend to So-and-so. So-and-so must have told her about the huge mistakes I've made, probably because my mistakes affected So-and-so.
She is that person. She is that girl that thinks I am a piece of crap. Now I got it.
The thing is, I know I'm a piece of crap, so what am I supposed to do?
Here is why I am so bothered: I feel as if most people I know don't want to be my friend because of the huge mistakes I've made. It may not be true, I may just be a lousy friend.
I'm in Anderson, where all my friends are. I feel lonely. I feel like it's my fault for getting sick and depressed. I feel like it's my fault for leaving to get better. I feel like I've lost some sort of connection that won't ever be correct again. I feel like I truly don't understand anyone here any more. That sucks.
It may not be true. It's probably not true, but it's so hard not to believe when you can't stop yourself from feeling that way. And, I'm not pointing fingers, and I'm not writing this so people feel bad. I'm just being honest. I'm just saying this is how I feel and I hate it.
I feel as if I'm alone.
Shalom.
From Bengal Tiger to Sea-Mail
I think the government should supply a program where people can trade in a gun for a Bengal tiger, or maybe two wolves. Thus, two endangered species are rescued and anyone can feel like a bad mama-jama without shooting anyone.
This could go wrong, though.
If everyone decided to do this, we would be destroyed by beasts and people would scream, "IF I ONLY HAD A FIREARM TO DEFEAT THIS WRETCHED CREATURE!" or something of the sort.
--
I wish I could make money writing on this blog. By that, I mean I wish every time I typed the letter 'T', a machine connected to this computer would print a 100 dollar bill with my face on it. After a couple of months, I would take all of the Ryan Bill's and go to a random ATM machine. After I made a transaction, I would turn around and scream, "It's not all about the Benjamin's!!" then throw the Ryan Bills up into the air.
--
When someone asks you, "Late night last night?" You say, "No, I'm pretty sure it was right on time. It started around sunset and was over by 12:00 a.m."
--
I'm currently broke at the moment. I saw a guy on the side of the road with a sign that read, "Anything will help."
I thought, "No, sir. If I go up to you and start dancing, it will surely not help. It may help other people start laughing when they drive by.
It won't help if I look at you in the eyes and say, 'Will it?'"
If I had a sign, it would read, "Will work for food. By "food", I mean money, and by "work", I mean ask you.
--
Gutters on roofs are a strange concept to me. Someone just said, "Dang it! Every time it rains I get wet while walking from the outside to the inside for a second longer than I would like to. I know what I'll do... I'll build something that collects the water on my roof and, uh... dumps it behind my house. And, I'll make sure it's hard as hell to clean out, so that I'll have a reason to be enraged with anger half of the year and and the other half of the year I'll have a reason to use my ladder."
--
I want to put a note in a bottle in throw it in the ocean. The note would read:
"Turn around
and run
to the nearest lavatory
to wash your hands because...
I wrote this letter
with my
feces.
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
p.s. Just kidding!
My friend
wrote this with my feces."
--
shalom.
This could go wrong, though.
If everyone decided to do this, we would be destroyed by beasts and people would scream, "IF I ONLY HAD A FIREARM TO DEFEAT THIS WRETCHED CREATURE!" or something of the sort.
--
I wish I could make money writing on this blog. By that, I mean I wish every time I typed the letter 'T', a machine connected to this computer would print a 100 dollar bill with my face on it. After a couple of months, I would take all of the Ryan Bill's and go to a random ATM machine. After I made a transaction, I would turn around and scream, "It's not all about the Benjamin's!!" then throw the Ryan Bills up into the air.
--
When someone asks you, "Late night last night?" You say, "No, I'm pretty sure it was right on time. It started around sunset and was over by 12:00 a.m."
--
I'm currently broke at the moment. I saw a guy on the side of the road with a sign that read, "Anything will help."
I thought, "No, sir. If I go up to you and start dancing, it will surely not help. It may help other people start laughing when they drive by.
It won't help if I look at you in the eyes and say, 'Will it?'"
If I had a sign, it would read, "Will work for food. By "food", I mean money, and by "work", I mean ask you.
--
Gutters on roofs are a strange concept to me. Someone just said, "Dang it! Every time it rains I get wet while walking from the outside to the inside for a second longer than I would like to. I know what I'll do... I'll build something that collects the water on my roof and, uh... dumps it behind my house. And, I'll make sure it's hard as hell to clean out, so that I'll have a reason to be enraged with anger half of the year and and the other half of the year I'll have a reason to use my ladder."
--
I want to put a note in a bottle in throw it in the ocean. The note would read:
"Turn around
and run
to the nearest lavatory
to wash your hands because...
I wrote this letter
with my
feces.
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
p.s. Just kidding!
My friend
wrote this with my feces."
--
shalom.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Aliens, Dragons, or Whatever
"For we were never discovering this planet,
marching across this earth,
covering over this terrain,
hiding in this ground,
digging to this core,
running from this sky,
or fighting for this realm.
We were merely trying to deny the fact that we were powerless."
--As written by Priest Propectirius in The Book of Deterioration
I basically just made this quote up. I just started thinking about the earth ending, or maybe alien invasions, or maybe dragon invasions, or whatever... I just thought it seemed like an open to some sci-fi intense novel about destiny and faith and doom and hope and grace, which would take place in the future... duh.
I don't know how someone copyrights something, but this is copyrighted by me. It works if I just say it, right?
Shalom.
p.s. I like you guys.
marching across this earth,
covering over this terrain,
hiding in this ground,
digging to this core,
running from this sky,
or fighting for this realm.
We were merely trying to deny the fact that we were powerless."
--As written by Priest Propectirius in The Book of Deterioration
I basically just made this quote up. I just started thinking about the earth ending, or maybe alien invasions, or maybe dragon invasions, or whatever... I just thought it seemed like an open to some sci-fi intense novel about destiny and faith and doom and hope and grace, which would take place in the future... duh.
I don't know how someone copyrights something, but this is copyrighted by me. It works if I just say it, right?
Shalom.
p.s. I like you guys.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Almost See
I am starting to get that feeling, again, that I can almost see God.
In a movie so cheesy, when my brother hurts so lovingly, when my girlfriend talks unhindered, when my sister writes brutally honest, when a comedian talks about how he is clueless, when I fall into a nap...
I don't think I've seen God,
but it's just like if I squint my eyes hard enough,
and if the light is just right,
then just maybe I will.
This is weird, because I've felt pretty worthless lately.
But, I don't feel depressed.
shalom.
In a movie so cheesy, when my brother hurts so lovingly, when my girlfriend talks unhindered, when my sister writes brutally honest, when a comedian talks about how he is clueless, when I fall into a nap...
I don't think I've seen God,
but it's just like if I squint my eyes hard enough,
and if the light is just right,
then just maybe I will.
This is weird, because I've felt pretty worthless lately.
But, I don't feel depressed.
shalom.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
One Of My Quirky Weaknesses
I'm not a worried person, but there is one thing that terrifies me.
It's when someone gives you a message saying, "Hey call me. It's very important," or something to that degree.
Then they don't answer their phone, or you call back and they don't tell you what's wrong.
That hurts my heart.
As greedy as it sounds, I just want to know instantly that it's not that bad-- there's no need to panic-- a loved one is not dead.
I'm not doing this to call anybody out, because lots of people do it to me. This is just the first time that I have a really weird problem with bad news or no news.
I just realized it.
I love you all, but please leave a message in detail if you need to leave a message that is important.
Shalom.
It's when someone gives you a message saying, "Hey call me. It's very important," or something to that degree.
Then they don't answer their phone, or you call back and they don't tell you what's wrong.
That hurts my heart.
As greedy as it sounds, I just want to know instantly that it's not that bad-- there's no need to panic-- a loved one is not dead.
I'm not doing this to call anybody out, because lots of people do it to me. This is just the first time that I have a really weird problem with bad news or no news.
I just realized it.
I love you all, but please leave a message in detail if you need to leave a message that is important.
Shalom.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Being White Despite Of the Lack of Pride.
I decided to shave my face.
I look like a twelve-year-old boy now.
I realized last night that my dreadlocks and facial hair were shields for my own protection.
It's because I have a hard time associating with ignorant white people, which is most white people.
For some reason, me having dreadlocks and facial hair helped me cope with white people easier.
I guess it was a form of separation, not necessarily individualism, from the people that I wasn't comfortable with.
Leah and I went to a restaurant last night and our section was just full of obnoxious white kids who said stupid things and thought they were funny.
The saddest part is that I associated myself with them because of the way I look now.
I do feel angry that we have the same skin color. I do feel angry that I feel like I'm being misrepresented by them.
That's a little crazy, but only a little.
This is what Christianity has become as well. Christians left and right are embarrassed of other Christians because of the mistakes they made or still make, or just because they don't believe everything exactly as we believe.
There is a way that this is healthily done. This has to be done carefully, though.
We must feel grace, sadness, not anger and judgment.
The fact remains that the reason a lot people don't believe in Jesus is because of Christians.
We have to associate ourselves with them, whether we want to or not, because we have the same title of religion. And, because we are in automatic association with imperfect people we have to apologize for their actions because we are one in the same movement. Whether labeled "radical" "Presbyterian" "Catholic" "Church of God" "Prophets" or "Leaders", Jesus Christ's vision was for us to "be one", to be a body.
The other fact remains, though, that we are no better than anybody else-- that we are in fact imperfect as well. To love someone as yourself means to give grace to those because you expect grace from them. You expect not to be judged, so don't judge others. This is one of the simplest things to learn from Jesus, yet I am such an idiot, that I think I can justify my case to a perfect love by saying, "Well, that wouldn't work if this happened..."
I am wrong, but that is okay as long as I learn.
You are wrong, but that is okay as long as you learn.
Well,
Death Cab calls on me to rock out...
Shalom.
I look like a twelve-year-old boy now.
I realized last night that my dreadlocks and facial hair were shields for my own protection.
It's because I have a hard time associating with ignorant white people, which is most white people.
For some reason, me having dreadlocks and facial hair helped me cope with white people easier.
I guess it was a form of separation, not necessarily individualism, from the people that I wasn't comfortable with.
Leah and I went to a restaurant last night and our section was just full of obnoxious white kids who said stupid things and thought they were funny.
The saddest part is that I associated myself with them because of the way I look now.
I do feel angry that we have the same skin color. I do feel angry that I feel like I'm being misrepresented by them.
That's a little crazy, but only a little.
This is what Christianity has become as well. Christians left and right are embarrassed of other Christians because of the mistakes they made or still make, or just because they don't believe everything exactly as we believe.
There is a way that this is healthily done. This has to be done carefully, though.
We must feel grace, sadness, not anger and judgment.
The fact remains that the reason a lot people don't believe in Jesus is because of Christians.
We have to associate ourselves with them, whether we want to or not, because we have the same title of religion. And, because we are in automatic association with imperfect people we have to apologize for their actions because we are one in the same movement. Whether labeled "radical" "Presbyterian" "Catholic" "Church of God" "Prophets" or "Leaders", Jesus Christ's vision was for us to "be one", to be a body.
The other fact remains, though, that we are no better than anybody else-- that we are in fact imperfect as well. To love someone as yourself means to give grace to those because you expect grace from them. You expect not to be judged, so don't judge others. This is one of the simplest things to learn from Jesus, yet I am such an idiot, that I think I can justify my case to a perfect love by saying, "Well, that wouldn't work if this happened..."
I am wrong, but that is okay as long as I learn.
You are wrong, but that is okay as long as you learn.
Well,
Death Cab calls on me to rock out...
Shalom.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Jobless
I feel like I am handicapped, like it's an impossibility for me to get my shit together.
What is wrong with me?
I am very sad, very angry, very hurt, very judged right now.
It's almost like I'm stuck in this weird place: I'm trying to realize I am a grown-up, but I'm also realize that I have nothing grown-up about my actions.
This sucks.
I guess this is what life is supposed to be, though.
shalom.
What is wrong with me?
I am very sad, very angry, very hurt, very judged right now.
It's almost like I'm stuck in this weird place: I'm trying to realize I am a grown-up, but I'm also realize that I have nothing grown-up about my actions.
This sucks.
I guess this is what life is supposed to be, though.
shalom.
Monday, February 09, 2009
yeah...
I don't usually talk about Leah on here, because I don't want to sound stupid-in-love.
But, I am stupid-in-love and it's because of her.
Leah is what I need.
She makes sense out of me.
She tries so hard just to love me.
She fits. Exactly.
I cannot do anything without her, no matter how much I may act like it.
shalom.
But, I am stupid-in-love and it's because of her.
Leah is what I need.
She makes sense out of me.
She tries so hard just to love me.
She fits. Exactly.
I cannot do anything without her, no matter how much I may act like it.
shalom.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Know No
No, no, no. There is
no
absolute
way
that we would ever
know.
Know
what?
Why,
I don't know.
No
I don't.
Shalom.
no
absolute
way
that we would ever
know.
Know
what?
Why,
I don't know.
No
I don't.
Shalom.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Random Thoughts of a Post-Haircut
I'm trying to get my life together. I'm not very good at it.
---
We all have shields. We often try to protect ourselves or others with them, which is ironic because they often injure ourselves or others, turning our shields into weapons.
---
I often give up if things are too frustrating. Being in a relationship has made me more frustrated lately than most things have, yet I have not given up and will not give up. It gives me hope that I can change for the better.
---
I have been more judging and gossipy then I have been in a long time. I hate that. I absolutely hate that. I don't like bitching behind people's backs. I don't like joining others in their endeavors of it, either. It's so wearing on my soul.
---
I really miss my dreadlocks. It's shallow, but I really do. I hate what I look like right now. I spend too much time changing clothes because every time I look in the mirror, I just look like a tool.
---
Money is fake. It is not real. It is an idea that is not backed up by it's logic, yet it controls the world. They are pieces of paper, yet they can make a person go insane with worry or greed or comfort.
---
Shalom.
---
We all have shields. We often try to protect ourselves or others with them, which is ironic because they often injure ourselves or others, turning our shields into weapons.
---
I often give up if things are too frustrating. Being in a relationship has made me more frustrated lately than most things have, yet I have not given up and will not give up. It gives me hope that I can change for the better.
---
I have been more judging and gossipy then I have been in a long time. I hate that. I absolutely hate that. I don't like bitching behind people's backs. I don't like joining others in their endeavors of it, either. It's so wearing on my soul.
---
I really miss my dreadlocks. It's shallow, but I really do. I hate what I look like right now. I spend too much time changing clothes because every time I look in the mirror, I just look like a tool.
---
Money is fake. It is not real. It is an idea that is not backed up by it's logic, yet it controls the world. They are pieces of paper, yet they can make a person go insane with worry or greed or comfort.
---
Shalom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)