Thursday, November 5, 2009

"Your eyes
Are always there
Your eyes
Are what I came for

Your eyes
Drive away my fear
Your eyes
I could just stand there and adore

Stop just right there
Everything has to stop to steal time
For whom I want to be near
Yes I do care and I love the love we share

And I know You're alive
I'll give my heart to survive
This world has nothing to offer a human soul
Reaching for the sky
So Father of light
Keep this human spirit alive"

1 John 1:17-21

God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we're free of worry on Judgment Day—our standing in the world is identical with Christ's. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.

We, though, are going to love—love and be loved. First we were loved, now we love. He loved us first.

If anyone boasts, "I love God," and goes right on hating his brother or sister, thinking nothing of it, he is a liar. If he won't love the person he can see, how can he love the God he can't see? The command we have from Christ is blunt: Loving God includes loving people. You've got to love both.
Hmm...the plot thickens!

Er...literally...I'm writing a novel you know!

=D

"Rebirthing" - Skillet

Streetlight Manifesto's album "Somewhere in the Between" + sugar rush = epic awesome environment for novel writing.

An Exercise on the Inability to Write

"I'm convinced that fear is at the root of most bad writing"
-Stephen King

I have writer's block with NANOWRIMO.
Maybe it has to do with the fact I've never written almost twenty pages of text in four days...normally I have writer's block the second week of NANOWRIMO...which is the agreed upon date the noveling vacation ends and skies turn very dark and cloudy.

But maybe it has more to do with that Stephen King quote.

When I look in the mirror I see eyes that are more tired than a twenty-three year old has a right to be. It's not like I survived a genocide, been through a war or had to make unbearable sacrifices...I've met people who have done all that. I've seen the pain they still carry, the pain under their skin and the scars which will never leave their body.

What is it I am afraid of?
Would I be so indecisive if I would have been born in another time and another place?
Why do I feel that I NEED the affirmation and validation from other people?
People who are just as human and prone to error as I am?
Furthermore why do I feel the need to hold people's mistakes over their heads and act as if I am somehow different, somehow special enough to practice the art of perfection?

Writing is so hard for me because it is so personal.

I'm writing fantasy, elves and magic, all that stuff but I can't help but notice when bits of my character and personal thoughts slip into my characters. It can be downright disturbing when two characters use my own words to have a conversation I had only a few weeks ago.

Most of my life decisions I have made and all of the ones I never did have this one common theme together: fear.

I think people are afraid of art, even disgusted at the thought of art because of the fact it has to come from the soul. True artistic expression, regardless of medium, is almost always a picture of a soul if not a negative showing the opposite. Art is always reviled by religion and government gone astray because of how 'dangerous' it is to be an individual who expresses thyself...because it requires free thought and to actually discover who you really are as a person.

Art is dangerous, just as dangerous as being able to laugh is. True freedom is the ability to be so free of the horrors of your circumstances that you can not just laugh at evil in the face but you can hold up a mirror to reflect back how distorted it is.

Maybe part of my problem in life, why I have such an indecisive flair about me is I do not know which 'great battle' is mine to fight. I flirt with pacifism a lot so it's not like I can join the military or a fight club. It almost feels ironic to say the battle I have is a spiritual one...it's finding who I am...because honestly I have no idea who that man in the mirror is.

It is so easy to act pretentious and pretend I have my act together.

That is something that I despise the most in religious and political figures and conversely the sort of characteristics I hate the most in me.

Spiritual hypocrisy goes far beyond a televangelist who steals money from poor widows and ministers who denounce the homosexual agenda as being the crux of America's social ills while on the weekends they meet gay prostitutes for reasons that are less than noble.

Any action, any decision which ignores a human being that is suffering is hypocrisy and anti Christ. I know people who claim that presidents were/are the Antichrist when the true spirit of Anti Christ can be just as close as the closest church building or worse, in my own heart.

Maybe I'm afraid of being found out as a hypocrite, not by people who are willing to make excuses for me but by a God who is infinitely loving and compassionate. Maybe I feel terror at the mere mention of Grace because it means everything I've achieved is a castle of sand that I didn't even help put together.

Writing is one of the few ways in which I try to keep myself afloat, as if I am afraid of simply letting go of every little thing and just learning what forgiveness and grace really mean. I suppose it might be easier to just say writing and pride are two egotistical idols I'm more than happy to sacrifice everyone at, just as you know, I get what I want in the end.

Moving from this tomb would require effort, it would require the risk of failing...it would mean interacting with other people who are hurting and need love. It means realizing that the story of life wasn't penned just for my pleasure...but somehow, in some impossible manner the love of Jesus makes participation not just possible...but soul saving.

I write in a pale imitation of not just the writer's I adore but in a vapid imitation of the God who deliberately put this lunatic together.

I dream of places far beyond this room because it is the same God that put the stars in motion that stirs my heart. The same God who took a chance on something as accident prone as humanity that sends me a Muse to whisper inspiration and set deadlines that are only slightly unreasonable.

I can dance because I'm free, sing off key because the music is loud enough and pen a potentially crappy novel because two things I'll never run out of is grace and the ability to go back and fix a mistake...when I finally catch it.
Okay wow.

That excerpt actually SCARED ME before I realized it was from the novel.

I don't know what style you can call that but oh my God...wow.

Greatest need:

It's a mixture of love, hope, purpose and relationships.
Everything else seems secondary in comparison.

Of Angels and Muses

Tis a pity when one hears
of both angels and a Muses
and their sad tears.
There is not much one as I can do
but offer thoughts of hope
and soft spoken prayers
that He will provide
and give you grace
ever through this dreary time
and throughout tonight.

The darkness can only last
as long as time permits.
But it is something we may not see
but only have vague inklings of.
Do not despair,
this grief may hold so tight
upon the very beating of thy heart
but this time will pass
it is only for tonight
and the morning shall come
burning bright
in vivid colors and light
so you can freely see
the grace bought
for both you and me.

See to walk and run and feel,
to know this too shall pass.
The temporal will roll back
and all will be as light,
and no more shall divide us
from ourselves
from one another
or from our Love.
I wish I understood...

Love

Why don't I love more?

Why am I so selfish and short tempered with those I'm supposed to love?

I'm so sick of myself...and trying to serve myself, it is like every time I think I've found You my Love, my Lord...I just have to start back over because I am worshiping who I THINK You are...as opposed to who YOU really are.

I'm so sick of myself, I want to just throw up this false gospel of works, this false gospel of self indulgence, this false gospel of self that demands that I be a god, hallowed be my name.

This is what I hate, I wish I could let go instead of beating myself senselessly.

Could You draw near to me again?
Pull close and wrap me in Your love again?

I want to be angry and act out in hate...but this isn't me...this isn't who I want to be.

I want to be yours...I want to be a son again...I want to be cleaned of all this filth, I want my lips to be purged of sin and to have my heart cleansed and to feel Your Spirit upon me again...please do not forsake or forget me.

Don't leave me in this night, this dark night that I'm so sick of me in.
You know...the dog kicking me in the stomach hasn't actually helped me feel anymore endeared to it...just saying...
It's not that I hate dogs...it's just I have no patience for people who will not send their dog to a trainer and then they act surprised when the dog misbehaves.

Plus the ungodly smell. I can't stand the smells of a dog not being cleaned up after...it's just as bad as cigarette smoke and both give me intense migraines...so a house with both almost makes my eyes explode from my head. #_#

I'm okay though...just little to no sleep and feeling bleearghish.

I love cats...they are so easy to train because as soon as they figure out the litter box (mostly on their own mind you) the only thing left to do is have them judge you and make you feel inferior.

They are the perfect pet for lonely masochists.

Quote of the Day:

"Those who are clever in imagination are far more pleased with themselves than prudent men could reasonably be."
-Blaise Pascal

"I Need You" - Relient K

I've dug up miles and miles of sand
Searching for something I can't see
And I've just got bruised and battered hands
And a brand new void inside of me
Complete with walls I did create
From all the earth that I've displaced
A mess that I have made from what
I've just let pile and pile up
I have not been abandoned, no I have not been
Deserted and I have not been forgotten

I need you
I need you here
I need you now
I need security somehow
I need you
Like you would not believe
You're the only thing I want
Cause you're everything I need

Explore the cave that is my chest
A torch reveals there's nothing left
Your whispers echo off the walls
And you can hear my distant calls
The voice of who I used to be
Screaming out "someone, someone please
Please shine a light into the black
Wade through the depths and bring me back

I have not been abandoned, no I have not been
Deserted and I have not been forgotten

I need you
I need you here
I need you now
I need security somehow
I need you
Like you would not believe
You're the only thing I want
Cause you're everything I need

When my hopes seem to dangle
Somewhere just beyond my reach
You say you've heard my prayers
And read my words there on the beach

I need you
I need you here
I need you now
I need security somehow
I need you
Like you would not believe
You're the only thing I want
Cause you're everything I need
I think the newest story of my life is simply going to be incredibly low expectations coupled with massive amounts of effort place in simply trying...then I will just wait to see what happens...

Seems demented enough for me.
And I can maybe even sleep on that idea and not have incredibly bad back and neck pain.
I'm...so...so tired of pain and bleeding and such.
Little help please?