I wish I didn't have to leave.

Time simply won't stand still, will it?

I'm an eternal pessimist yearning to be born again as an eternal optimist...in the off hand chance that should happen I'm eternally grateful crucifixion is no longer the execution of choice for overly enthused religious people.

CG Resident Evil Film?

The nicest thing I can say about the live action Resident Evil films is that they are full of suck. They are terrible, some of the worst movies to ever grace this planet.

But...THIS actually has my attention.





It actually takes place within the same universe as the games, continues the plot and doesn't seem like it will suck. Plus the music they use in the trailer is from Resident Evil 2...ah nostalgia.

My geeky senses are tingling...

The latest news in...is pain.
That is all.
Dark cold shallow breaths of burning air.
Nauseated moments of falling sickness.
That is what it is right now.

Jesus Christ this pain is too real.

There are not swears strong enough in any language to convey how upset, how tired, how angry, how frustrated and just in general enraged at life I am.

False expectations...maybe self inflated hopes...there is definetly some room for self pity and loathing...oh God the loathing...

So much...so little...God I hate this.
All at once.
What was the point in the first place?
I can't enjoy the moment because of how much I hate.
Ignorance is a blessing because you can at least enjoy the moment you have.
Compared to not sleeping, being sick and hating life because of how broken, bitter and over all shallow you are as a human being.

Yeah good, encouraging happy feelings here!

In Words of Home

Words lack their due in that I'm going crazy.
If not exactly already there.
I want to go Home.
It can be a problem to breath,
to take step a forward
and not look back.
But oh I so wish to go Home.
So that I may breath my last
and be freed of this broken shell.
To know what freedom is truly like
an emancipation to never long again.

I wish I was smart enough
to stop long enough
to remmeber to not wear my heart
just on my sleeve,
where it collects dirt and scrapes.
Bleeding wounds
I never know how to staunch.
All I have left is this infection,
this disease inside my heart
screaming at my every thought
demanding control.
So, so all I want,
the first and last thought in my mind,
in this burning cold
is to go Home.

The lack of love
which is replaced with fury,
the lack of love
which has become this mass treason,
a degrading of all of my reason
into this trite existence.
Buffers into life and light
and barely being able to see in illuminated dark.
This poison is suffocating,
the smoke is chocking
and I hate this all.
My rage tapers off
into this passionless self hating loathing.
But, may it ever be in this last breath,
I long for Home.


** ** **

Painted images
posing as metaphors
upon this table.
I'm not sure I believe you
in what you say and do.

Yeah yeah yeah...Merry Christmas or something like that...

Shades of Seasons

The shades of all the seasons burn in your eyes,
pools of reflection on your face,
carved like a relief on this mountain.

Aching Truth

I want to scream until my lungs explode.
Let the air bags in my chest explode
and just bring me back to life
with the soul shaking force of pain.
Just wake me up with a scream.

I'm running blind,
living it
because of how dead I am.

It isn't just here and now
it has always been.
Every moment awake
just lost in you and just whatever drug you take.


I hate how weak I am. I just feel dirty because I don't have any sense of control. I just feed my lusts and indulge in whatever I want.

I feel so alone and scared right now because I feel like you should hate me and you always will. There is truth but it is so unknowable right now that I would like to simply die.

Everything is coming undone,just spinning out of sync.

I'm crying but there is no one to wipe the tears away. Every last burning desire is going to lead to this burning mass of fetid death.
If there was justice I never would have been born and if there was justice I would have been still born and never would have been forced to live out these days. These wearisome and troubled days.

Please do not forget me Jesus.
As I lay here gasping for breath.
Please remember me.
When I draw this final breath please be here to hold m hand,
hold me.
I know I am going to forget what it means to die,
I'm going to be lost in pain and regret.
I'm going to be human.
So please do not leave me alone in that hour.
That moment when the air leaves my lungs
and all that I know is the fear of no more.
Would you hold me close?
Hold me tightly and be my love?

I am so tired.
I have nowhere else to crawl to.
PLease do not forget me while you can.

Brewing Darkness

It's so good to know...
It's so nice to know...
Everything can be so perfected
in your syncopated
little mad world.


Every last piece of my soul wasted
dragged across this broken glass,
that are your nails,
every drop of blood
swallowed by these little pores
is something else
I would miss if I could feel.

I don't have the strength to vomit
but God I wish I could.
Wretch out every last emotion
every last piece of me
and just show
you how fucking
complicated I am.
I'll never be something you dissect,
some neat little project worth seeing.

I am.
That is it.
I am.
All I'm going to be.
This perfect mess.
This failure of complicated ends.
The beginning of nothing
but this final end.

Screams syncopate
into madness.
Blood collects where I have crawled.
This breath burns my lungs
because it's not longer air
it is just masked pretension
that is nothing more than the best interests
of better intentions
wrapped in whatever it is you use to sleep at night.

Every second we spend in this wasteland makes us worse.
We bite into each other,
rip out soul out...all for what?
To be a game for specters that we can never see.
But you don't see.
You do not see them egg you on,
see their delight at the blood letting orgy.
You don't see their yellow eyes gleam
in dying twilight as they set their eyes
on ripping our your throat
just as soon as you have finished feeding on me.

So what is it?
What is this?
We are just going to eat and dine on the others flesh.
Drink the blood with the wine?
Eat the flesh with the bread?
This juxtaposition of a poorly raised metaphor
that never should have seen life.
Because the dark is eating the light.
Every last momentous pain.
These demons smile.
Because they see what you can't see.
They rejoice in the pain.


But God,
if my soul was any darker
you would be cut by its shade.
You would feel the hate brewing inside
and would die from the heat.
But instead,
I'm judged for me being me.
I never said I was anything less
But here I am just being me.
And that is a crime, even if you don't think it.
Or say it.
Me being me was never enough.
It cannot be enough.
With insufficiency.

But God I try,
oh will I try.

Why am I here?

It would be so much more simplified...to me at least...if I was more than what I am...more than this loose collection of cells with a soul...I'm so tired...so fundamentally alone...

So tired...so depressed...so...unable to take all of this for much longer...

If life bothered to make sense theologians, philosophers and politicians would be out of jobs.

Opps I did not mean to actually post this letter...I was just writing it in here before copying and pasting...bah. Oh well. Archive purposes perhaps?

***

If I remember correctly you asked me yesterday what the Protestant view of sin was and God's response to sin.

I hope I don't sound too much like a jerk when I say this but some of the main problems I have with the Roman Catholic church is that they just took the (somewhat) established Christian theology and Bible canon around 300ish AD and ran wild with it for the next thousand years or so. Instead of just sticking with what had been previously established they just sort of started adding stuff left and right...incorporating pagan holidays to 'attract' people to Christianity and other stuff...

I mean I don't hate Catholics, I know some very nice ones. I'm just more along the lines disappointed that some very weird (and at times insane) decisions were made on a whim and the focus became the church instead of God.

And then you had the Protestant reformation that happened in the 1500's...which started out with good intentions and became a bloody mess with people loosing sight and getting caught up on human differences and thinking that killing each other would somehow make God happen.

This is all insane to me. In so many cases Jesus gets used sort of like a sports mascot and touted around and treated as if he actually gave/gives a damn about all these PETTY reasons and as if he would encourage actual war and fighting. Anyone who spends enough time in the teachings of Christ realize hoe radical he was and that he was more interested in 'sinners' and helping the downtrodden find their way back.

I'm jumping back and forth all over the place to give some sort of background of my thoughts and to hopefully help me sound less like a person in need of a nice white jacket and more along the lines of a...well certainly not normal person. =)

One of the more common beliefs with Protestantism is that God holds all the sin committed by people the same and to an extent I think that is true. But misses the point completely.

People get hung up on sin.

It's easy , it's flashy and makes for good loud arguments that everyone can be angry about.

To me the question that should be asked is not "What is the worse I can get away with?" or "Why is God such a prick and doesn't like people having fun?" or "What is the worse kinds of sins so I can go hold up signs and go set those sorts of people on fire!?!"

To me the VITAL overlooked question is:

1.What is sin and why does it exsist?
2.Why would God send people to Hell over sin?

Obviously Jesus believed in sin as much as he believed that he was Messiah and was here to deliver people from it...and the next improtant question...

3.Why would people need to be delivered from something? Especially if they do not feel they are in need of delivering of any sort?

I just have been digging myself a huge hole that hopefully i won't bury myself in trying to get out of...

1.What is sin and why does it exsist?

Following what little the Bible actually says about the time before the creation you have God making the heavens and the earth and sometime around those two one of the highest angels named Lucifer began to be jealous (for whatever reason) and declared that he would be like the most holy and then decides to rebel against God and takes about a third of the angels with him, which is where you get the whole fallen angels/demon and tempters and the 'snake' in Genesis that tempts and helps humanity to fall.

Looking at any case of 'sin' and to me the chief problem is pride. This bloated sense that we are self sufficient creatures never in need of anything from anyone, be it human or divine assistance.

So in a nut shell sin as I can best tell is not just telling God no but declaring ourselves not in need of his love and the relationship he has wanted with us. Sort of like a wayward lover leaving and abandoning her groom right at the alter...after they have been separated for years and were finally going to be united as one.

There is something deeply broken and flawed in all people that sometimes just shows as little white lies and stolen candy...but at the same time is the same potential for another Holocaust, another Rwanda and another Sarajevo.

It kills me and makes me physically sick at times but humans have such a great potential for good but we so often stop ourselves and to me that is sin as well. It doesn't have to be the one causing rape and murder...it can be the complacency in our lives that causes us to ignore and not cry out and demand justice.

One last thought...something put forth but Augustine and about the only thing he said that doesn't make me want to strangle him is that, to paraphrase, is that "All sin really is, is good that has been twisted and malformed."

And that gives me hope...that even the worse cold blooded person...that the 'chief of sinners'...me even is just simply twisted in the wrong way...with enough love and grace that things CAN be better...that we aren't helpless or hopeless...but that we are loved.

2.Why would God send people to Hell over sin?

There is no way I can sum up an answer to this because I am STILL trying to figure out my exact beliefs on this...but not just what I want but what is truth...all the same I think my thought can be summed up much easier by C.S. Lewis:

"There are two kinds of people: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, "All right, then, have it your way.""

People love to think of Dante's Comedy and of imps, fire and everything when it comes to Hell...but I think the Bible is being somewhat metaphorical when it talks of Hell.

If God, Yahweh, Jesus...IS this infinite...incomprehensible source of life and light...that EVERY good thing...food, sex, kids, video games, sunlight, flowers, kittens, air, stars and everything good comes from him then can you imagine what the absolute worse thing in creation would be?

Eternal separation from that light, that life, that OXYGEN of creation...it is more than simple punishment...it is humans being so twisted that we begin to see light as dark and HATE the light because it burns...and I believe what is started in us here on earth is what we become in eternity...that if we have started to become like the Light we become light...but if we embrace the absolute darkness we become tainted and transformed and would hate the presence of God if he even offered it to us.

That is why there is no salvation for the angels. They are pure spirit and when they fell they instantly became riddled with the cancer of sin...and because we are half spirit and half flesh...we have time to see the consequences of our actions and to see what IS real and what IS truth. Not just the lies we get sold on and our own personal refuges so we can hide from reality.

*whew*

Hope I haven't put you to sleep yet. =)

3.Why do we need saving?

Simply put, the infection that is 'sin' is too great. We can't just beat it with the optimism stick because the nature of reality is that everything is fleeting and our ticket was up before we were born. None of us may have chose to live in this world but for whatever reason we are here.

It's beautiful and sucky and annoying and makes me double over in pain a lot of the time but all the same I believe we are here for more then just the sick amusement of divine chess players.

I believe God choose to come in human form as a Jewish person, a baby who became a man. Jesus was both God and man, an impossible mix of fully God and fully man. I can't say I understand it...life is like that though...full of impossibly good things that make sense because they make sense...if that makes sense.

God has been in love with us since the beginning and the Bible chronicles that...the Old Testament is Him trying to use a man named Abraham and his descendants as a way to show grace...from a small tribe to a huge nation...it is a tragedy that helps to show that humans simply cannot handle the responsibility of the divine.

And then, enter Jesus. This controversial rabbi who all to often is simply reduced to being the holder of a message of lovey dovey bad hippeness. Jesus was radical, he challenged the status quo, pissed off the religious authorities and ultimate died in the worse way possible.

Things would be SO LESS complicated if all Jesus taught was we should love each other and feed the hungry. Sometimes I wish that was all he was about because my life would be so much easier...but it is a lie to say all he cared about was our physical needs.

He fed the hungry and healed the sick to get their attention. To let them know they were loved, to know they were beloved children of God with not just physical ailments but deep seated spiritual needs...that whole sin thing. This seemingly living cancer that would eventually cause them to self destruct...no matter how well intended they were or how many good thoughts they had.

Sin grieves God desperately. So much so that he cannot be around it. You can't mix absolute light with absolute dark and God cannot be a part of sin...so for years the Israelites had to use a complicated religion system of sacrifice in order to try and appease Him but ultimately it failed because God WANTED us to see we can't save ourselves. That we are too utterly screwed to be able to do anything except lay down and die.

So the beautiful thing is that Jesus came and willingly died for a bunch of broken people able to do nothing but screw his message up and distort it for personal gain.

He loves us because He is love and wants us to be one with him. Those who are broken down and ultimately begin the process of being fixed by this love are told to tell others about that love...and we have failed.

Horrificly failed.

Just one look at a 'Christian' book store and all the absolute rubbish on the selves is enough to make me want to vomit. We theologians TOO OFTEN try to pin God down and define him in every way so that we don't have to serve someone who makes us uncomfortable and someone we can turn into a mascot for hating the modern day lepers...you know people who are gay, that have AIDS, those who smoke, people who are Muslims...all of these 'terrible' human beings that we somehow feel the need to judge.

I know it is not my place to carry around all of the failures of the church but I can't help BUT. I feel this guilt...this impossible weight that has to be fixed by God...but at the same time the responsibility I feel he is giving me to teach others and show them there is a better way then all of this rubish.

I hope I haven't gotten too off topic and put you our like a light.

Thanks for reading this and I'm going to feel like an idiot if I sent this to the wrong person. =)

You know...for someone I barely knew you have shaped me so much...more ways than I think you ever realized.

Every single piece of information analyzed...torn apart...built again and reanalyzed...what does it all mean?

It means I love you...I can't see or feel or hear you but I love you...almost as much as That Guy I suppose.

What are You getting me into here?

Another Day

This fragile breath cannot sustain,
while this frail hands seek to clasp life.
Contrary to popular thought,
I'm not okay.
I have tried lying through my teeth
but this time,
everyone but me bought it.
Threw in the chips
bought some prime time slots.
If you smile just enough
everyone will believe the lies.
Maybe its only pity
but who only knows such things?

You know, those pills...they look...quite nice today.
Yeah.
Today they are nice.

There is so much I believe in that I do not believe in or know.
Or understandingly know that I do not know.

The words of wisdom are folly
or that the air is full of lies
or that the rain falls in circles
or that this life is...
...just what it is.

There is such a strong streak of independence,
it runs here and there.

It is almost damning as it is life,
the relief of self into this...
...being of what is and will never be.

It demands it self be subtle,
yet at times it screams as is.
What is and will never be
as it lives and breaths as me.

Angst laced unrest is such a fun term to think about.

Especially considering the awkwardness of the world.

How self absorb the thought of self is, in and of itself.

It is hard for me to process or understand the stuff going on in and outside of my mind...the process of being...the thoughts of seeing...thinking...desire...want...all of these unknowable extremes of life and then some.

What is?
What less?
What more?

It all is and nothing more than will ever be.
Left and right turns.
It is all philosophical in their own ways.

I'm not sure who I am right now...or what is going on.

It is more than being tired...it is deeper than you or me.

This is it.
This is real.

Charlie Brown and Music

Just like I wrote December 8th, 2007 I am still the Charlie Brown of the music world, or at least in my world.

When I got home I had to run to the gas station shop to pick up some meds for my step dad...and while trudging in feeling and smelling like crap, I searched for the right pills and had to ask the girl behind the counter where they were.

Then the kid behind me asked how my band was doing.

Obviously this brought me up short.

Turns out he was one of the kids that I substitute taught last February BUT he was also one of the kids at the last 'concert' I performed with Tubbs and James under the moniker of 'Forgotten Purpose'.

Now, obviously I am not used to having people seem to even care about my personal endeavors, much less random teenagers, so I did what any other self respecting idiot in position would do...I lied.

I said things were slow but good, that school and work had us all tied up but overall we were good.

Why do I keep clinging to this fool's gold? This false idea? This absolute idiotic idea that it matters?

News flash folks! The dream is dead!

If I can be pretentious enough to quote John Lennon:

"The dream is over
What can I say?
the Dream is Over
Yesterday
I was the Dreamweaver
But now I'm reborn
I was the Walrus
But now I'm John
and so dear friends
you'll just have to carry on
The Dream is over"
-John Lennon, "God"

It's over.
The party is over.
I was a washed up, never was musician about the same time I became a washed up novelist.
It is all a load of bullshit I tell myself so I can sleep at night.
I always have the dream of maybe getting to play with friends again, make music, write songs and try to make a difference. The idea of writing words can somehow affect people and help them.
It is lies.
It is over.
Good bye.
Get the hell out of here now.
There is nothing to see.
This is just a walking car wreck waiting to happen, so pass on by because I do not care.

Some Days

Some days I just hate life.
This is one of them.

I feel so alone.
The distance is killing me but not as fast as I am.
Every half lie wrapped in a false breath.
The shadows play across the room
like a bad cinematic.
Every word you say
I quote to you,
just as you think to think
to say what you think you think
will make me happy
and placate your mind.
Not to mention your ego.

But, what do I know?
What can I say?
I would rather just rest right now,
in whatever shades of pain I have to embrace.

"To some people the church is their ticket to respectability, a certain bourgeois point of view, a safety net for when they go to bed. My idea of Christianity is no safety net, a scathing attack on bourgeois values, and a risk to respectability."

-- Bono

It is Finished (For this year at least)

Sometime Sunday morning, I forget the exact time, but I copied and pasted my latest manuscript and pasted it into the magic word counting machine on NANOWRIMO's website and cued up Queen's "We Are the Champions".

I clicked send.
I clicked play.
I saw the rather large "CONGRATULATIONS" message and laid back on the bed luxuriously bathing in the glory of Freddie Mercury's vocals and my own insane literary glee.

It has been a rather insane month that I only vaguely remember. A few of you were there to encourage me, to pick me up when I fell out of my desk chair weak from too much caffeine and too little food, you were kind enough to flatter me as needed and then threaten me with death when that was not enough. You saw past the grammatical issues that I still do not understand (The day I actually understand comma splices, the actual use of semicolons and how to properly pronounce hyperbole will be a key sign of the apocalypse; you have all been forewarned.) and saw a cause worth pursuing.

You were all godsends and I have to thank you all, every word of encouragement is worth more than the lower gasoline prices...

((crikey i have to finish later...stupid work ~_~ ))

Even more reassurance that hating all of humanity is the right choice for me:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/29/business/29walmart.html?bl&ex=1228107600&en=95e0984e8f92cc7c&ei=5087%0A

America

Only in this ridiculous country would THIS be considered top news:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081128/ap_on_bi_ge/holiday_shopping_black_friday

People can't buy as much useless crap as they normally would?

Boohoo.

It is nice to know I don't believe in love, in fact I think it is ridiculous and stupid. One of the most outlandish illusions we use to shelter our feeble existences so that we do not simply die outright from the shock wave of reality crumbling our futile lives.

On the plus side I'm not dead.

Woo.

So, okay, it goes a little some thing like this:

The pain I feel rips me from what false sense of security I had. The false pretensions, the false ideals and the fears I have had about life.

Every last idea I thought was mine gets taken away, every wayward thought gets ensnared within this odd shaped puzzle.

I'm exhausted and I feel so much pain right now. I wish there was some sort of relief I could get but right now, I just feel this huge hole I'm falling into and the darkness consuming me.

It's like this false metallic taste in my mouth,
my realization of your fake life
running parallel to mine.

You are wearing it all like some sort of dirty bird,
covered in black grime.
Alone with everyone except yourself,
this madness you love to wear and flaunt.

With all the substance of a gray mist
you are falling quicker than your wings can stand.
Stained with life and this lack of gain
that you love to hold so dear.

I'm firmly convinced that anyone who does a poor cover of a John Lennon song should be put to death on the spot.

Sadness.

Humanity exacerbates my lack of patience far too often.

Day Seventeen Nanowrimo '08

Week three, ideally things are downhill from this point, however idealism only stretches so far when you have a deadline beating on your head and a word count that STILL is not as high as it needs to be.

So the battle plan for this week is to impose myself on my best friend and live in his kitchen so I can stay away from any distractions and get my word count over 30k by this Wednesday. Thankfully the word count I do have will only mean that I need about fourteen thousand wordsish (does that word form/tense even exist?) and assuming I don't loose my mind or am kicked out I will make this goal.

The plot is there, I just need to find it. Possibly by beating my muse with a burlap sack full of door knobs...but uh...we'll see about that...

To me some of the absolute sweetest moments of my life can be found in my childhood in the 16-bit and 32-bit era dream machines called the Super Nintendo Entertainment System and the Sony Playstation.



I was originally told I could be anything I wanted to be, then I was made fun of for what I wanted to be. Made to feel shame for just enjoying what I enjoyed in life...reading books and playing video games...but they were both so much more to me. They were escapism from a childhood that at times borderlined on absolute insanity.

The details are trivial and somewhat useless because I did survive childhood mostly intact but I did loose a few things I once held precious...the ability to try and fail, the ability to simply do,

Day 14

Rather then try to come up with some fancy metaphor for my writing I'll just come out and say the word count is a bitter but sweet struggle. Even though I'm struggling with feelings of inadequacy and despair, there are still these bursts of creativity that remind me that this novel idea isn't as stupid as I may think it is, in my weaker moments that is.

Although part of me wants to make a career out of writing, the reason I write is for my own sake. There is an almost redemptive element I can find in NANOWRIMO, The ability to loose myself in the creative process and know that no matter how poorly received my ideas are they are still my ideas and no one can ever strip me of them.

So yeah, writing isn't any much easier than yesterday but I suppose the difference is that if I push myself hard over the next couple of days I can hit 25k and then be on the downhill side of this novel and also the fact is that no matter what happens this is the best way I could have spent my November.

Boy do I feel like crap. Oh well.

Again I must ask...why am I here? Why am I even here? What is the point?


Seriously?

Day 13

Day 13

You know honesty sucks, a lot.

If I was to be honest I am having a lot of trouble with writing and just between you and me, I honestly think I should stop writing.

I am not a writer, I cannot write, I am a terrible writer, I have no talent, no skill and have no idea just what is going on.

I'm staring at a large black hole that is currently sucking all of the hope concerning my writing away. Oh, there went my dignity too. Oh well.

The theme song for this novel has been 'Creep' by Radiohead. I keep asking myself "Why am I here?" and "What am I doing this?"

I have no talent at writing. I suck at this. I profoundly suck at writing and have no right to even try to flirt with the possible idea of me being a writer. I suck so bad that if there was such thing as a death penalty for horrible writing I would gladly walk up to the chopping block so I could have the agony of how terrible of a writer I am end. Promptly.

All the same I'm not giving up. I am not exactly sure what sort of hope I am clinging to as this point but I have always had trouble knowing when and how to quit. So at the very least if I'm going to die I'll die with a horrible manuscript in my hand.

I feel sick. Not 'so' sick I suppose, because that would imply this is some deep and new form of illness which has not been seen before...however I do feel sick, ill perhaps. But that doesn't begin to match up with the level of anxiety and stress I feel at being here, knowing I will soon not be able to return, knowing there is no home.

You know?

If David Bowie was any more awesome I think hearing his music would cause me to burst into flames.

Day 12

"Show me don't tell me."

One of the single most helpful tidbits of writing advice I have ever been given. If I remember correctly this was gleaned from Stephen King's book on writing, which was quite shrewdly called "On Writing".

We have all read works of fiction which read as a 'Tell Me' work. "So and so did this and then they did that and ran over there", I personally find that sort of writing a bit dry, it is almost like reading a plot summary rather than an actual story.

Besides being a pet peeve I try to avoid, by actually 'Showing' the reader what is going on instead of simply 'Telling' them you get to delve deeper into the story while increasing that ever vital word count...or at least this is what I am telling myself as I try not to think about how behind I still am in word count.

Day 11

Something about killing new characters with a huge explosion because of frustration about where they are not going yet.



** ** ** **


What do you do with new characters?

To be more specific, what do I do with those new characters that have become nothing but problems?

In order to fix the problem of a plot that has hit a few hiccups, I decided to introduce a few new characters. Honestly I do not know if this has helped because I have the sudden urge to have all of the new people tied up and placed in a room with a very large explosive device.

Taking some time to think about this a mass explosion may not actually fix the problem. My other solution would be to let them run wild and see what exactly it is they want to do...I mean worse case I can always use the backspace button, right?

So I guess this just means wait and see, maybe letting them run about could be the best thing for my story. Who knows?

11th minute of the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month...at least according to my watch

Ah...I had almost forgotten the feeling of my insides being on fire...the balance of life has been restored...

If I was anymore cynical I think I might cause some people's heads to explode.

That actually sounds like a cool super power...

Day 10 - Noveling

Day 10

The past few days have been odd and sadly unproductive writing wise. Friday my doctor put me on a new medicine and so far the only effect I've felt from the medicine is extreme drowsiness. Which obviously would make accomplishing my every day life difficult, much less the writing aspect.

I'm forgoing as much human contact as possible today and cutting this short so I can hopefully bring my woefully low word count into the lower ten thousands today.

Here is to coffee, writing and medicine that makes your head feel funny! Hooray!

I suppose this is all the drama of the moment but I really have no clue what I'm doing.

Why am I even trying to write? I feel like such an abysmal failure and that there is no sincere reason for me to write about something so stupid and pointless.

Bah.

Having difficulty writing is so weird. At times I think I have something and others I just realize how hard it is for me to be motivated in writing and in penning anything. It is like there is some kind of huge block or something...

Day Seven

Typically day seven is when the walls start to crash in, the honeymoon ends and the realization of how absolutely insane the idea of writing a novel in thirty days truly is.

And really it is insane but the important thing to remember is that this is the best kind of insanity. The kind of insanity where anything truly goes, the kind where no one can criticize you for being yourself and the kind where the only thing stopping you from success is yourself.

So, what does an aspiring novelist do when the walls of their fantasy novel writing land come crashing down?

Blow something up in the story and then keep writing, no looking back and no second guessing yourself. The only thing keeping this noveling project from eating your soul with a side helping of doubt and self loathing is pure momentum.

I’m telling myself that truly any idea is a good idea and anything that honestly feels right to the story, do it. Otherwise I will be forced to endure chants of “You sold out!” from my soul in the middle of the night.

Writing is a scary enough endeavor without having to have your well meaning but ultimately unnecessary self in the way. The idea is to let the story flow and to let it pour with no regrets or worries over spilt milk.

So before I use anymore clichéd metaphors I’m getting back to work. Have a good weekend and enjoy the free time I don’t have!

Yeah I'm beginning to not care.

I just sort of keep listening to the same song on repeat...again and again and again.

I'm so tired.

I just do not even want to care right now but I do.

Jesus it gets so exhausting to just wake up and be around people. Half the time they aren't even to blame...even the damn annoying ones aren't to blame...its not even half the time...almost all the time the problem is me. Me being so selfish and unwilling to be used, me being so arrogant and prideful and me thinking the whole damn world revolves around me.

But you know, I'm so tired of feeling alone. I know it is my fault and my choice to keep pushing you away but dammit, I can't take much more of this pain.

I'm sick of the melancholy, the being unemployed, not knowing if I get the internship, not knowing how much I actually matter because I'm too stupid to realize your love is sufficient.

I don't even know if I give a fuck about being happy because of how exhausted I am.

Am I making sense here?

I'm feeling this insane mixture of raw pain, depression, loneliness and exhaustion. It makes me swear, it is making me want to scream out loud until my vocal chords bust and explode. I'm hurting so much I would almost welcome the pain, just so I could know I'm alive, so I know I'm not dead and in my very own custom made Hell.

I don't even know why I'm here or what I am doing. All of this become so freaking trite and useless so quickly.

I just wish myself was enough to make people love me, like me and accept me. I don't know why i want any of them to want me but I do. It makes no sense because having others involved makes the pain possibilities so much greater...but I still long for it and lust for it. Lust for the attention and the possibilities of being loved.

And, and what? What now? What now?

"Creep" - Radiohead

Yikes...this is becoming my theme song in more ways than one...

It is being trapped in moments like these that I find myself,
my true self in all of its hypocrisy and lies.
The part of me I pretend is not real,
the part of me I wish I could kill
and the part of me that makes me cry.

I never find solace away from you
much less in me.
Never can I be apart of that which I hate
instead I am trapped.
Forever me being destroyed by you.

What is the point of this game?
All of this fragrant pain?
Every conversation with you
just reflecting how much it is I hate.

Day 6

Day 6

Building the skeleton.

According to my wikipedia based research, basic anatomy states that if we didn't have bones we would be floppy masses of ickyness. Keeping this thought in mind (as well as my ship analogy) I spent most of yesterday and todays writing attempting to make a generalized skeleton outline for my story. Trying to get a better understanding for what the highs and the lows of my novel are.

I'm still not exactly sure what is going on.

There is a lot of general confusion and chaos and in ways I am getting vague glimpses as to what may be going on. On the plus side I'm only a few thousand words behind now and I think I may be caught up by tomorrow...hopefully at least.

Oh well no more time to talk! I'm needed back in surgery!

** ** **



Personal side note: Odds are that Obama is not the Antichrist...just saying.

God I'm so tired right now. I'm exhausted...I feel sick and I just want to find a good spot to curl up and die in.

What am I doing here?

I feel like I'm stretched too thin and that any moment I'll just fade into nothing.

A big noveling hiccup I keep having is feeling so darn self conscious about what I'm writing.

You have to love how the American election happened the day before Guy Fawkes day.

Day Five

Day Five

If one does not know to which port one is sailing, no wind is favorable.
-Seneca

I've been told there are two kinds of writers: those who run a planned course and those who run hysterically yelping through the streets wearing only their birthday suits. Personally I like to think I fall somewhere in between.

When beginning a project I like to have an idea about where I am going and what exactly it is I am trying to do. Typically I have a beginning and end already in mind but the problem is navigating between the two points.

I've started by throwing my hapless heroes onto this alien world and their simple goal is to find one another and get back home before everything they know is destroyed. To me what makes a story good is what happens between the beginning and the end. The goals they have to make, the challenges they must overcome and the tensions in their relationships with one another.

But even the best charted course can be thrown off by ill favoring winds. It is looking like I'm going to have to break out the oars and manually row myself to some literary island where I can find some inspiring material...and maybe some pineapples.

I'm sad to hear Michael Crichton died...I'm still not very concerned about politics...but really, we have lost of the best contemporary authors we had...

I'm so angry.
I hate who I am, the weakness I exhibit.
The fact I speak of love when all I am is hate.
That I talk of purity
but gladly embrace lust at the closest second.

I hate you.
I hate life.
I hate this life.
This infection burning inside my veins
demanding I rob life from those around me.

I'm church bound mofo's! Yeaaaaah!

I sometimes think me having depression is a good thing. I mean, as much charisma and empathy I have I might be the next genocidal dictator...you know if I wasn't too depressed to do anything, you know?

Day Four

Day Four

My momentum has been derailed by having too much time to work on my novel. Instead of creating I spent most of the time compulsively eating mints and hating my writing.

One of the most difficult things for anyone to do is to genuinely believe in themselves while still retaining a sense of perspective. However, NANOWRIMO is all about loosing perspective because when you start talking about writing a novel in thirty days you might as well be trying to rob a bank using sock puppets.

* ** ** **

Version two:

Day Four

My writing momentum has unexpectedly slowed down. One of the more important keys to Nano success is momentum. Momentum that is caused by having a jam-packed schedule that forces you to set specific time for writing. Because of life circumstances I have way too much time on my hands and consequently I spend most of that time in self loathing and obsessive worrying.

I’m worried about my health, finding a good job, finishing school, fear I can’t write, worry about producing an original plot (as if that actually existed) and in general running around like a headless Chicken Little squawking about the sky falling…and it is fixing nothing.

The problem with worry is that the action by itself fixes nothing. The only way to fix an actual problem is by doing something, not by sitting and worrying. By this I mean taking action and not simply waiting so that I can become a reaction to some event.

So this is today’s plan: I decide to make lunch and eat it, I decided to go vote and I voted and now I am deciding to plant myself firmly in my desk chair and force myself to write any and every thought that comes to my head and count it towards my goal, because even if this is the worst crap I ever write I am at least going to die typing with a keyboard in one hand and my sense of inadequacy locked in my closet!

I'm having trouble with writing anything write now...it's been almost twenty four hours since I've been able to write anything for the darn novel and its becoming annoying.

Well it sucks to hear she got pregnant. Granted, I don't even think she liked me as a human being but still...it sucks.

Man, life in general kind of sucks today.

"Las Vegas?!?! Why in the world Las Vegas?"

"Las Vegas?!?! Why in the world Las Vegas?"

Wonderful question, amazing question actually. A question I am still asking myself.

But the answer goes back a few years to around 2002, the year I discovered the online ministry xxxchurch.com. Incidentally it was their first year of life. They started out as a completely outside the box ministry dedicated to spreading the simple message that "Porn is a bad thing but Jesus loves you" and their goal was to spread that message in as unconventional as possible, trying to add a bit of humor to an otherwise awkward and at the best of times a disturbing topic.

As the years grew so did the ministry, they started traveling to porn conventions around the world and setting up booths inside of them handing out Bibles and tshirts with the words "Jesus loves porn stars" and began to build relationships with those in the industry. Eventually this led them to setting up a fund to help the actors and producers get out of an industry that for most people becomes inescapable because of debt, drugs and no one wanting to help them get out.

Flash foward a few years into early 2009. xxxchurch will be setting up the first church on the actual Las Vegas strip itself, wedged in between casinos, strip clubs, bars and whatever else is there. The closest churches are a few miles away, tucked safely into the suburbs. This going to be their first actual church plant where they will be having daily services and setting up outreaches to the area targeting things such as business conventions, offering support for those visiting the city and are afraid they may fall into temptation and of course they will be reaching out into the depth of darkness to those who are being trodden down by the world and told they are worthless and have no future.

Where do I fit into all of this? I mean, it's not like I actually have a hidden past of being a ex-porn producer or something but the burden on my mind that doesn't let me sleep at night is that there are so many people shunned by church as a whole. How many of us actually go to churches that would welcome prostitutes, AIDS victims, porn stars, people openly homosexual, people who lost their entire lives to porn, people that grew up being sexually molested and have no idea what a normal and healthy relationship, those who molested those kids and those still shaking violently from coming off their last high? How many churches would actually risk getting the blood on their carpet and having their lives 'stained' by accident, simply because they came into contact with these 'undesirables'?

I don't say this to simply provoke feelings of pity because the last thing these people need is pity. They need justice, they need the love of Jesus to help them sort out their hellish lives so that they might actually be able to leave the past behind. Pity by itself is useless. They need emphatic compassion, the kind Jesus would show if he was here in person. He would walk up to these 'lesser ones' and hug them and tell them he loves them and that even before creation and he spoke them into existence he was madly in love with them and just wanted them to be his and for them to love him back.

It is this 'furiously passionate love' of Christ that they need and what we so often just neglect and at times forget completely. It's easy to develop a callous heart and an apathy to those that it hurts to look at it from out mid ranged level suburban prison we look ourselves in to keep the bad people out.

Everyone has different gifts and callings for different people and places and one of the few things I know for certain is that I'm being called to go and live in the darkest places to try and actually make a difference. I have only been sure of a handful of things in my life:

-Jesus loving me and calling me to be his
-Jesus telling me to get off my lazy butt and go tell others about him as a life and occupation
-Jesus telling me to go to the University of Mobile
-Jesus telling me to go to the loveless and love them
-And from what I can tell he told me to apply for an internship with xxxchurch

It is moments like these that life makes the most sense in but at the same time it scares me greatly because it means my life isn't mine and I'm simply on borrowed time. That everything physical is fleeting and the only way I'm going to be able to serve is by sacrificing every personal comfort and being willing to loose what I have.

This past year has been an incredibly frustrating one because although I did a semester of seminary it felt so cold and alien. It felt like I was slamming my head into this glass box and I was wanting to cry because I didn't fit. It's like everything except me was perfect and that I was the crazy one. And so after a semester I took a break and entered the work force migrating from one depressing sales job to the next, not sure what in the heck I was doing and why I was doing it.

"Work to eat and eat to work."

After a few months of this I started devolving excruciating stomach pain which resulted in the removal of my gallbladder in June and at least a dozen blood tests and another dozen assortment of x-rays, cat scans, endoscopies and many other things. Eventually I had another minor surgery where I had my bile and pancreatic ducts messed with and what would have been eventually a massive liver failure was averted in the nick of time but still, I am having problems with pain in just every day life and most of the time have no joy in eating food.

Throw in another stress factor of my family just being so wrapped up in their own problems (ie my step dad regressing back into alcoholism all gung ho style and trying to kill himself and me and my mom having to 'deal' with him and me and arguments, yelling, headaches, tears and just the insanity of it all was about enough to make me have another nervous break down all by itself) to really feel much sympathy for me. Thankfully I have had a close group of friends around here to support and encourage me and even though I don't know why this is all happening, it IS for some reason.

I feel like I am on the crux of something big. A large change that has been a long time in coming. I've never been the best at evangelism but I do know I have had times where God put me in places to talk to those who were downtrodden and even just being able to say "I'm sorry but I do care and Jesus does" is enough reason for me to go. Being able to share in peoples sorrows and pain and FEEL their pain with them is so draining...seeing peoples tears and feeling the knives being drive into their hearts will never become easy but it is a gift I have been given.

Just like any gift it has be used, the gift of love, the gift of faith and the gift of compassion. They have to be exercised like any talent and any muscle or they will become unable to function and die.

The natural desire we all have when we face pain is to run away and hide and to a lesser extent I've tried that for years. Who in their right mind wants to accept a calling where they know they are heading for a beautiful contradictory life of hardship and misery with the only reward being honest love? I mean, it sound ROMANTIC, don't get me wrong. That's one reason I love calling myself a "Freelance Minister", it sounds wicked awesome and makes people think I actually am something cool...but in reality it just means I just am not sure about aligning myself with any one particular denomination because really I don't care about the 'how' and 'why' as much as actually getting into the mess of life and doing something for once.

See? I'm running into another one of these crazy contradictions about myself. I want to serve and I don't want to serve, just like how I wish I could just get an IV of morphine pumping in my body 24/7 so I could be pain and stress free but at the same time I know it is PAIN that shapes us, that defines us, that makes us, that crafts us, that refines us and DEMANDS who we become.

I feel sort of like I'm crazy, of course anyone who knows Jesus knows that feeling, but despite the craziness there is this giddy excitement of psychotic horrific dread that my great uncle must have felt when he jumped out of a perfectly good landing ship and charged up the hellish Omaha beach on June 6th 1944.

It's paradoxical, this love and desire for love, being loved and still searching for that love but that is sort of what life is. Fitting together all of these little pieces and knowing that most of them won't fit but still trying, knowing that little we do matters in the long run but what matters is knowing we do the right thing for its own sake.

In a nut shell I think that is why. Partly because I feel called to do this, partly because I have to do this and partly because it is the right thing.

The most I can ask is prayer. I know how absolutely insane all of this sounds and I have no clue how, why or many details but I feel this is something I need to throw my life into.

Thanks for reading this ridiculously long thing.

Beginnings

The amazing thing about creation of any kind is starting with the raw materials and after long hours of joyful yet frustrating work you start to get something that is at least passable for art. After deleting or setting it on fire you start again with a renewed passion and create something else subpar. After a few more tires and countless hours of self loathing you just throw something against the wall and accidentally create a masterpiece.

NANOWRIMO is like that, except with the fastfoward button held down.

"In the beginning..."
-Genesis 1:1

Those first words preface most of life. Every life and every endeavor have their first moments of life. Those struggling moments of quickly learning how to breath followed by many months and years of awkward movements of trying to learn how to walk and communicate with other people.

Novel writing is much the same way.

By what is a remarkably bewildering and messy way you bring about a confusing creation to life and despite how ugly it looks before you have it cleaned up, you love your new born creation.

This is only my second year of NANOWRIMO but so far I feel the same. There has been a lot of false starts and confusion but so far this fledgling novel is already leaving me behind. But like any child left unattended it can get in trouble quickly.

First bit of Second Novel (Another World)

Prologue:

The earth stands on the brink of destruction.
Climate change, global nuclear proliferation and the continued existence of reality
television have all long been predicted to bring about the death of all humanity. Indeed, the utter annihilation of all on the Earth but in the actual truth was much more sinister than what most could devise.
However, this truth had eluded so many for so long so that when it came none save a select few were prepared. Because of the very real human genetic disposition to ignore what was in front of them, humans had been oblivious to the true problem that had existed long before they began their lease on the planet they affectionately called Earth.
This blindness, self induced really, gave rise to many problems because humans did not come to live on what they considered to be their earth for the reasons it was most commonly believed.
Oh sure, there WAS a creation, they were in fact made in the image of a Higher
Being (whose name is being withheld due to legal reasons) and not what was the more common misconception of humans simply springing to existence out of thin air. But the common misunderstand that humans had was that they themselves were created on their watery blue planet. Instead, the true story is a bit more complicated then that. They came to be natives by a series of incidents that had long been forgotten by them.
Maltovus.
A name that mostly never spoken, partly out of fear and partly out of
uncertainty of how to actually pronounce the said name. But it was a name that drove many to madness when in fact it was spoken. Understanding this mysterious figure brings further depth to the knowing of not just earths history but why humans became denizens of what was otherwise an unremarkable planet, that in the grand scheme of things was nothing more than a dime a dozen.
Maltovus began life in the period of history before time itself was aware of its own existence. He was chief of the Guardians, a race of divine beings appointed the
task of governing the worlds, encouraging the growth of and the keeping of peace between the many sentient beings thruought creation.

Things were good for a while and then the unthinkable, yet realistically speaking the inevitable occurred: Maltovus began to question why exactly the Guardians must serve when they themselves were superior to their charges.
Like a plague this thought ripped through the ranks of The Guardians, infecting and beginning the long process of decay among those who had grown weary with their task.
War soon erupted in the heavens and rebellion sprung up among the planets. The fallen Guardians began to enslave and kill the beings they once had sworn to protect. Taking Maltovus as their sovereign Lord they called themselves The Mauro, that is The Darkness. Cast from the land of eternal light the Mauro quickly began to conquer the various worlds and attempt to eradicate all The Guardians who remained.
Billions upon billions of lives at a time were snuffed out in the battles. But
eventually, the light prevailed and struck a devastating blow against the seemingly invincible rebellion. Trapping Maltovus on a bluish green world The Guardians brought a race of people to the planet to help ensure that the evil would never be allowed to escape.
With the blessings of the Prime Mover, The Guardians sealed the world off from the rest of creation. But as with any great decision this came at a great price. Because of the gates sealing this world from the rest of creation the peoples perception of the spiritual and metaphysical waned and The Guardians soon became nothing more then the stories of fables. Eventually these people would grow to forget their origins and forget their greater task and concern themselves only for the pure task of survival and seeking comfort.
It should be duly noted that eventually these people named theirselves humans, or ‘The Earth Bound Ones’. Which evidently was such an obviously ironic gesture that it quite easily passed over their collective heads.
Years passed. On the Earth the people progressed in technology and excelled in their many endeavors such as farming, watch building and finding bigger and more efficient ways to kill larger and larger amounts of each other.
Despite the lack of tangible evidence it is believed that even though there was no possible way for him to communicate to those around him, the mere presence of Maltovus on the world was enough to cause a taint that ate at the hearts and souls of the people, twisting them into corruption.
Despite the growing evil a stronghold of evil goodness did indeed prevail. A small group, with antiquated knowledge of their past true origins, was still able to communicate with the Guardians and was able to bring about the old alliance, renewed and forged anew. With this they appointed themselves the protectors of the world and prepared for the great battle they knew was to come.

Eventually everything came to a head. Despite the earth being sealed off from the rest of creation, breaches began to occur. Mauro twisted by their personal evil and the eons of time they had spent dwelling in it, began to appear thruought the world.
No longer the elegant creatures of light they once were, fearful whispers began to spread of creatures that were darker than the nights in which they dwelled, they saw with fiendish golden eyes that pierced through all except the brightest of days and an endless appetite that fed off of the blood of all that they could find.

Eventually an underground war began to be waged between the Guardians and Mauro, both sides employing the humans to their own ends, proxies in a way that few really understood. The battles escalated up until a prophesied chosen one was found by the Guardians, a human born that would be able to extend his strength into the astral realm and fight the ever growing darkness.
His name was Nathan and he was an American University student who had only wanted to sleep another five minutes before he needed to leave for class, instead he managed to walk into an unexpected destiny and a war he could never have imagined existed.
An unlikely duo, a Guardian who went by the name of Amanda and a self stylized swordsman by the name of Paul Manning were both commissioned to find Nathan. Eventually the three met and teaming up with Nathan's friends Jillian and Jermies, they began a quest across the United States to find the location of Maltovus' Tomb and put an end to the threat.
After traversing many miles and facing many unimaginable horrors they arrived at the Tomb and to their horror Maltovus was released and thanked them for being such willing pawns of a plan they never could have foreseen. After Unleashing a wave of energy they destroyed the tomb and presumably the heroes.
Our story picks up upon their arrival to another time and another place…


** ** **


Chapter 1 - Newer Beginnings

Finding himself in another time and another place, Nathan looked up from the ground and was moderately surprised to not find himself dead. His immediate reaction was genuine surprise, which was followed by bewilderment which eventually tapered off to being a so so attitude of relief that was further aided by the fact he still had his trusty green backpack.
The first thing he tried to do was sit up and so far that worked out alright. The next idea he had had was to stand up but that didn't work out so well because he ended up face first on the ground again, with feeling as if his insides were turning to his outsides and vice versa.
Content to lie there face first; he noticed that the grass he was laying on was a funny color, but despite this new fact he took a deep breath. He felt the sun hitting his bare neck which caused a chill to run through his body. It was nice actually.
He took another deep breath and let out a content sigh, a pleasant sigh happy to simply lie in the sun. Unbeknownst to him a dark shadow quickly moved over him, passing so quick that his surreal moment of happiness was not interrupted. Instead he stretched his lanky frame outward and wrapped his fingers around the blades of grass.
It was perfect. Too perfect for a day in his life.
That was his first tip off that something was wrong.
The second clue he had that something was wrong involved the hellish screams of the creature beginning a dive bomb attack on him.
Daftly rolling out of the way Nathan felt the winged beast fly dangerously close to him, the presumably razor sharp claws brushing by so close he could hear the wind whistling in between them.
Crouching on his hands and knees he watched the feathery mass of claws and death swoop off and begin what was most likely going to be another aerial attempt at removing his head from his shoulder.
Dull as his sense were at times, Nathan was rather found of having his head on his shoulder, so he received the hint moderately well and took off running in the opposite direction.
Although he was facing what he was fairly certain would be his long coming yet untimely demise, Nathan was able to take a large sigh of relief. At first things DID seem too perfect with this day and really all this meant was that the world was back in balance and things were progressing the way they were supposed to be.
So when the rather large explosion that occurred approximately fifteen seconds later, saving his life, Nathan did not if he should be relived or worried.
The best he could come to was a mild compromise between the both and simply pass out.


** ** **
Explosions are a curious thing, no matter how one looks at them.
No matter if it is a child playing with a bottle rocket in their backyard or soldiers having an equally good time using military grade plastique explosives, the results are always the same: large craters and giggle of exhilaration.
So it should not come to the surprise of anyone that this particular explosion in question was indeed large, colorful and despite the original intentions of its creator interpreted by some local humanoid natives as being a sign from their gods that this years harvest was going to be a bountiful one and that they should feast and be merry.
It is unfortunate then for the natives that the supposed harvest never came and so after a very long year of frugal surviving, in less than ideal conditions, the villagers came to a rather unanimous decision to lynch their shamans and renounce their gods of wood and stone and ditch their sacred agriculture, readily picking up stock trading and monotheism their places..
Without knowing it the natives owed a personal debt to Nathan and his friends. All because of one simple explosion their civilization was advanced by a few millennia.

** ** **
Looking back and forth before him all he saw was seemingly endless fields of tall, strangely colored grass. He tried to tell himself to calm down, himself responded by saying that “Apparently you, Nathan that is, was not aware of the fact that they were being chased by a huge flying ball of taloned feathery death.”
Nathan responded rather snappily by commenting to himself that “He, Nathan, is, was and more than aware of the current threat level they were under and if himself could get himself together longer then a few seconds it would be nice to have some sort of calm composure to think things over and that perhaps now would be a good time for something quite like a cup of tea.”
Himself rather snarkily replied that “All that HE, himself that is, was trying to do was ‘Keep your ungrateful hide alive’ and that the best thing Nathan could do was ‘Shut your incessant amount of unnecessary chatter and to please dive forward now before you get our collective head removed by that beast.’”
Surprised that such a useful tidbit of information could ever truly come about from what was such an impractical conversation with himself, Nathan tripped over a rock and tumbled head first into what seemed to be a very poorly place for a clearing.
Landing head first and rolling over onto his back Nathan stared up in
what was just a rather odd mixture of defeat and simple terror. He knew that right now he was looking into deaths face. He was surprised death was an avian but that is simply not something you say to death when he is about to become intimately acquainted with your innards.
He was sure that this creature shouldn't have exist outside of a terrible Hollywood movie (which as far as analogies go, this is a rather poor one that in actuality says less then what it seems like it would in the given circumstances). Giving a sigh of despair that would no doubt make his mother proud, Nathan braced himself for the end.
Fourteen seconds had passed.
Closing his eyes he expected to hear a rather inevitably large crunching noise followed by whatever 'Yum yum' noises such a large beast would make after eating him.
Instead, however, Nathan was surprised to hear a familiar whooshing sound fly over his head and upon meeting the giant creature created a deafening boom which besides flinging him about ten feet away in another direction, provoked Nathan into taking a rather defensive stance, that is to say by curling up into a ball.
Content to remain in his defensive position he didn't budge until he felt a shoe push him over onto his back and heard a very family voice say "Come on hero, is that the best you can do on such a short notice?"




Chapter Two - The Proverbial Frying Pan

Paul Manning was used to having to think on his feet. Being only half as clever and smart as he often times happened to mistake himself as being, he often found himself in many situations that could be best politely described as suicidal, or when no social tact was needed and one could just be plain, absolute idiotic.
As surprising as this was to Paul, it had simply became an unfortunate way of life for both his insurance provider and his equally unfortunate traveling companion who, despite their disdain for his stupidity actually needed him for the few sporadically placed moments of time when he would manage to overcome his natural inclinations and be surprisingly useful.

** ** **
Case in point:

After the resulting explosion that flung them to what they had assumed were their deaths; Paul, Jermies and Jillian all woke to find themselves in a rather ornate stone room with what appeared to be a large circular device imbedded in the floor.
Jermies and Jillian initial, respective thoughts were:
"Amanda!"
And.
"Nathan!"
Paul’s initial thought was deep concern over his hair.
Which this was quickly followed by him yelling a rather loud rant about “No! Not another freaking portal on the floor!” Which this in turn was followed by a large amount of obscenities.
Before either Jermies or Jillian could get anything reasonable out of him, a rather large wave of ornately dressed, yet leathery equipped guards rushed the room and proceeded to arrest all of them with the utmost care, except for Paul whose unfortunate hair was further disturbed in the tussle that followed.
After being placed in a cell for a few hour, guards came and removed Jillian and all the while Paul had constantly berated the guards verbally and threatened to 'thrash them in ways that they had never dreamed of being thrashed.'
It is almost safe to assume that the reason the guard didn't immediately attempted to terminate Paul’s life then and there was that instead of feeling threatened by his threats they instead found immense pity for him.
In the very sad way that somehow still manage to prove Paul’s own usefulness, when he himself had no idea about it.

** ** **
"You will not get away this man! Do you have any idea of who you are messing with?"
"Give it a rest Paul."
"Dude! Cool it, I'm trying to get us out of here." Paul said from his vantage point in front of the cell door.
"Yelling isn't going to fix anything."
"You don't know that man, if I keep this up who knows what may happen."
"That is exactly my point incidentally. You have no clue what you are doing and if it will get us killed. Do you know if they even speak English?" Jermies said from the bench he had made his home.
“No, but as always you seem to absolutely be missing the point."
"Beyond the point? Beyond. The. Point? At what point does screaming at people in what would most likely be an alien tongue to them even seem like a remotely good idea?"
"Because I know what I'm doing kid, I've been doing this for years."
Seething from hearing his comments, Jermies had gotten off of his bench and walked up to Paul and poked him in the chest as he said each word. "For all you know you could have just called all of these guards "The Abomination of Absolute Filth and that there mothers are ale swilling illiterate prostitutes who wouldn't understand morality if you hit them in the head with a Judge's gavel!"
"Actually," Said a sudden voice from behind them, causing both Paul and Jermies to leap, "You had simply called them "The worse set of guards to have ever been born and that their mother would have been better off throwing them from a window then allowing the shame of them walking the world to stain it with their souls forever.
“Well, that was the gist of it least" He said this with a smile. A very cold and alarming smile.
"We aren't going to be close friends are we?" Jermies asked with a sigh.
"Oh we will become close friends...after all what does pain do but unite people?"



** ** **

Chapter 3 - The Proverbial Fire



"Amanda?"
"Guilty as charged. Going to stay curled up in a ball or do you feel like doing something productive for a change?"
"You are alive?"
"Quite possibly. Or I may just be an incredibly explosive part of your imagination. Either way don't you think it would be nice to get moving before you attract anymore avian life forms thinking you would make a nice lunch?"
"Point taken and concede."
Opening his eyes he saw her outstretched hand and took it, allowing
himself to be pulled up. Standing rather awkwardly on his feet he noticed that she looked rather tired and run down, at least for someone who happened to exist as pure spirit most of the time.
"Amanda, you look rather tired and run down. Are you alright?"
She stared at him with unblinking eyes. "I am assuming this is how you were able to charm so many women in your past life as a Spanish Conquistador?"
"Er, aside from what I take to be sarcasm, are you alright?"
She shook her head in a rather hopeless way before giving him a small smile she usually reserved for small children and mass genocide. "I'm well enough to run before we get attacked again. Are you fine?"
"I'm fine. No limbs missing so I'm good to go."
"Good. That way." She said pointing over his shoulder.
Turning around he was surprised to see what he had thought was an endless field of peculiar colored grass ended about a hundred or so yards north of them and instead was the beginnings of a dense forest.
"Good a direction as any." He said over his shoulder to her and they began to cross the land at a rather quick pace.

** ** **


Chapter 4 - Through the Proverbially Culinary Fire and Flame

Its been about a day and a half since I last did work on the novel. After spending the next few moments chugging coffee and self pity, I will do some revision before pluning onward into this insane task.

God help me please.

Tired and so depressed.

So freaking depressed of a sudden.

I'm just in need of sleep I think.

Stress is building and I sort of want to give up. Could you please help me hang on and not just live but to LIVE. Move beyond my own selfish wants and just be yours. Please...

I guess some people just do not understand the concept of humans being fragile. Because of my lack of three failed marriages...I suppose I do not fully understand what it means to be taken and physically and verbally abused...but I do know after twenty-two years of dealing with the consequences of it all I just want to scream

"Fuck off and deal with your own problems! I hate all of you and I pray God kills you for all of the pain and the fear you have put in me!"

Instead, the gentle lamb tells me I am supposed to love unconditionally, like He loves me. That my hate, my fear and my anger do not bring about His love or His will.

When I take life into my own hands and begin to hate I begin to murder in my heart and people start to die to me. It may stop me from bleeding right now but it causes the calluses to grow deep like cancer and they will have to be ripped out later if I am to have any sort of love shared with others.

Please help me to bleed out this infection.
Tonight, today and every day in every way
that you let me be cut in
let me pour out this heart for you
and be transformed in only the way
that can be done by you.
The love that dies for another.
The love that cares for each other.
The sort of love you gave for me
on that dark day.

I'm guessing its because I'm so tired but right now I miss my grandmother and father so much right now.

So freaking much.

So it begins...

There is this enticement of excitement
just in the air tonight.
Hearing the subtle stirring vibrations
you whisper to me.
You intoxicate me with your promises,
Your sincere invitations.

The starkness of my own self centered lives
runs contradictions through my mind.
I stay here waxing poetically
while hoping to put off tomorrow
what could never be today.

I find my growing hypocrisy to much to bear
and I just want to let go.
Run free into your love
and live the life I've been terrified of
from the moment I realized thoughts
and the possibility of possibility.

These words have no meaning beyond what you give them,
nothing of my intent could sway your being
for one instant.
But take this for what it is worth
and make it yours
just for now,
just for the moment.
Let us pause and be who we are
in between who they think we must be.
Let us wait in anticipated glee
for we know the moment may end
just as soon as it will began.
Things will never be as we thought
they would be
but so is life and just the beginning
of every end is the start of new life.

Life Update - My Health 2.0, NANOWRIMO, Possible Internship and More!

"Life," said Marvin dolefully, "loathe it or ignore it, you can't like it."
-'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy', Douglas Adams

Thankfully, as much as I might despair I have not been reduced to acting completely like that poor depressed robot that Mr.Adams created. All things considered life is fair. I wouldn't say it is great by any stretch of the imagination but any day where you can wake up and say "Thank God I can actually write still." is a good day.

Speaking of such, a few updates:

My Health 2.0
A few weeks ago I had another procedure done and it removed a gallstone blocking a bile duct which caused a lot of junk to fly into my system. Although I am still having abdominal pain, nausea and other weird symptoms I am attempting to press on and just not worry about things until my next schedule appointment (sometime in January).

In the long term aspect of things I have three goals I will be doing regardless of health:

1.Internship in Las Vegas
2.Seminary/Grad School
3.Nanowrimo 08

1.For now I'm not sharing many details but I've applied for a ministry internship in fabulous Las Vegas. I felt led to apply and so I did, no clue if anything will surface but we shall see.

2.I need to finish my education and get a masters and possibly a PHD. I'm currently trying to assemble a list of possible schools that hopefully will not drive me insane. I am still wanting to get my masters in theology and a doctorate in philosophy. But then again I may just go for something in English and writing, I'm not sure.


3.Ah, writing, that horrible mistress I both love and hate in the same breath. It is a give and take relationship that helps me hang on to my sanity but at the same time sometimes pushes it out an open window. I have days where I speed along and others while I limp around looking confused but at the end of the day if I can write it is a good day.

Not that writing is actually ever easy (for long periods of time at least) but it is something I can still do and feel good about doing, even when it is as hopelessly narcissistic as writing about myself. The good always, ALWAYS outweighs the bad. If I could not write I would go even more insane...which would indeed be an ironic pity because it seems like the crazier a writer gets the better their writing.

That said, a magical event begins tonight at midnight. The long awaited season of competitive month long novel writing begins. A fifty-thousand novel put to the pages in a mere thirty days. I'll be competing for the second time this year and plan on adding another chapter into the ever expanding saga of what I have lovingly dubbed the "Matt-a-verse". Like I said, narcissism.

I dashed out a few points earlier today that is serving as my outline. From what I can tell it'll be picking up sometime and somewhere from last years car crash of an epic. I'm somewhat excited and repulsed by the thought of returning to the realm of my creative thought.

All that said it should be a good time I think.

Er...I promised to have 'more' in the title of this little thing but uh...I have nothing.

SO yes something random...any musical recommendation for this years writing endeavor?

Last year I used:

"Discovery" - Daft Punk
"Somewhere in the Inbetween" - Streetlight Manifesto
"Zoo TV - Live in Sydney" - U2
Final Fantasy VII Official Soundtrack

...and a few others that I cannot readily recall. I'm planning on doing a few entires into the "Reasonably Good Music" burned cd collection but any suggestions would be grand.

I'm planning on taking the novel express tonight but I'll be keeping everyone updated as much as possible. Thanks and I'll be seeing the lot of you at the finish line in a few weeks.


www.nanowrimo.com is the place to be!

Okay, listen please.

I fully realize how absolutely silly it is for me to be THIS stressed with very few reasons but the fact of the matter is that these ARE big factors but not SO BIG I should be almost paralyzed with fear at making a decision. This should be so much easier than it is but it is not.

You know? So what? What now?

I mean my personal desire is to curl up in a ball and whimper or something...and I'm not saying that won't happen at least once or twice in the coming weeks but I would like to be a wee bit more practical in actually achieving and doing something worthwhile.

I'm just...I'm freaking out because I want to be in control. I've been saying no and trying to avoid any real decisions because I'm scared of pain and failure. I keep trying to live life in this sterile bubble of angry cynicism where I constantly want to shove people away and hide under my own bizarre views on life.

Thank you for loving me through this absolutely insane life of uncertain insanity.

It helps to type this, almost like I am taking a fresh breath of air after weeks and maybe even months of just holding it.

Please, please, please help me to make the right decisions but at the same time HELP ME to make DECISIONS. It feels like I have a three hundred pound gorilla sitting on my shoulders and hitting my head with a daily planner made from the lost souls of the damned and departed that could never be anything but underachievers.

Dramatic? Most certainly.
How I feel? Yes.

I want to make the right decisions. Please help me, I need YOU, nothing else. But I do need something before this world just kind of explodes in on me. You know?

Random Thoughts

It is so mind blowing to think that Jesus referred to himself as a Lamb. We're talking the all powerful creator and destroyer of existence itself...referring to himself as this meek, weak, almost pitiable creature.

It is...words honestly can never hope to do justice to the amazing beauty that this is.

I suppose something very frustrating is knowing this truth in such a...deep and beyond understanding way is beautiful but frustrating because it means I don't know how to share it. Every attempt at sharing this love feels so empty, so hollow and so fake.

How can I be honest and real when I'm terrified of just being myself?

Being a hypocrite is so tiring after a while.

3 point paper

I.Introduction paragraph
-I like trees.

II. First Point.
-Trees are awesome.

III. Second Point.
-Trees have leaves.

IV. Third Point
-Trees make oxygen.

V. Conclusion
-Trees are awesome and I like them.

The best thing I can compare being home to, is that it is like plunging into frigid waters barely above freezing. You loose your breath, you feel numb, shocked, confused and most importantly...cold.

I don't mean to be so brutal in that thought it is just...I can't hide the truth. I miss being around warm fellowship, the kind of welcoming attitude where you know you are wanted and accepted for who you are.

Four Revelations of Novel Writing

1.Enlightenment is overrated
-No need to wait for the idea to fall from heaven before we start to write.
-It's okay to start with a very loose set of ideas.

2.When you have a million things what a million and one?
-Setting yourself apart from real life while writing is not the best of ideas.
-It is easier to do when you are restricted in time because you are forced to work to get anything done and utilize your time.

3.Plot Happens
-Two schools of thought:
1.Planning out noveling
2.Seat of your pants noveling

4.Writing For it's Own Sake Has Many Surprising Rewards
-It stretches and pokes your imagination and creativity in many ways

I'm quite frustrated at the lack of real words.
Up until now our conversations
have been filled with clever phrases
and words disguised as false sincerities.
As much as I may think I want change
without you there is none.

It is this dry spell that I'm afraid will kill me.
In between the beautiful days of life
you have these desperate moments of reality.
Realizations that you are a frail and fragile
finite life with only so much of a life expectancy.
Here today and gone tomorrow
everything in between will be reduced to nothingness.

The anticipation of what will inevitably come
is worse then what is.
Knowing the difficulty and the pain of today is just a foretaste
a near mockery of you today,
it is hard to know real
from the stress and pure feelings.

Sure pain may be limited to just here for the just now
but the just here and just now are all that I have
right now and know and feel.
It is problematic to assume and assure everything is alright
when you have neither clue nor hope it is.
The idea of saving grace come in by realizing
it is okay to be finite.
To be human.
To live, to die
and to try and be you.

The feelings and passions burning me will thankfully die
one day.
Until then it is a curse mixed with blessings,
being human is just all that it is
nothing more
nothing less.

I wish I could be freed to run away,
freed from this oppressive weight.
Freed from the desires and burning pain of this body.
Faulty and broken,
there merest hope of life feeling lost.

Help me to find You,
before the day ends.
Before all my blood spills out,
please love me.
Hold me to Your chest so I might hear your heart.
Let me know the end is coming
but I'll be found in Your love.

I'm too tired to keep trying to be clever.

What I need is an escape from this...prison of self.

This horrible amount of self hating and self deceiving mass of indulging weakness of my heart. Love? I never it but I need it.

I really hate mirrors because it seems every time I see one I just happen to keep seeing this guy I hate.

You know I'm worried you don't care anymore...you don't remember me or even think about me.

Oh well...

Coffee and U2 are amazing.

There is the combination of the caffeinated high with the heavenly melodies of the song 'City of Blinding Lights'.

I really want to quit right now.

But you won't let me will you?

Sometimes you can be a major league jerk.

Deity or not.

I wish I had something better to say then nothing.

You know I'm trying to read it right now but I can't. I have all of these stress factors piling up right now.

I'm torn with so many feeling of anger and despair...it feels like I am just floating in this pool of apathy and selfishness. That the tension is going to keep building until it explodes and I just go over the edge again. Words just cannot correctly convey all of this hopelessness and rage bubbling under my skin.

I wish everything could simply be fixed, I could get a meaningless and menial job and turn my mind off. I wish I didn't have to think deeply and never find satisfaction and rest. I wish I could just be another stupid sheep and not have any sense of my place in the world.

I get so freaking tired of seeing peoples smug smiles and their leers at my 'failures', I get so sick of the eyes burning as they stare at me as I walk by. Inever asked for life and as far as I'm concerned they can just go die for all I care at this moment.

I'm sick of feeling judged and made to feel like I am nothing but a waste of space, this disgusting mass of organic matter that has no reason to life. I am tired of feeling so sick and guilty for even being alive. I am tired of it all. I want to scream, I want to lash out I want to do something destructive but there is nothing I can do that would have any larger meaning.

You know I am praying, I'm crying, I am trying to find some sort of outlet and this is all I currently have and I am tired of it. It would be stupid to say no one cares but it would be accurate to say no one understands or can see what is going on.

It helps to say I am angry and tired of it all. It is like getting a fresh breath of air after living in this sulfur filled Hell hole for all of my life. Knowing you care enough to listen means something.

The internet is about to cause me to fly into a homicidal rage.

I hate this world and how it makes everything not work, including the freaking internet.

Of all these simple words you spoke
that is the one to make me stop
and watch the time become like smoke,
filling this desolate land.

But I still look to see you
beyond your selfish ego,
the failing attempt
at reconciliation
and I have to smile.

Despite my bruised self esteem
I see me.
I see you and deep down you are me.
We can divide the difference
but all we have is the fact
we represent each other before
we knew each other.
Cracked mirrors.

Drunk Chicken (Full Version)

So the other night was one of those odd nights.

By a process of events I am still too tired to fully comprehend I ended up going to my first concert in a few years as well as the bar in which the concert took place. I really wasn't sure what I was getting into, all I heard was "Free concert ticket and get in the car" and I was like "Sure, why not?"

Overall it was an odd experince.

Up until tonight I had never been to a concert that wasn't somehow supposed to be 'Christian', maybe it had something to do with playing in Christian bands or mostly listening to the junk while growing up (in actuality I think it most likely had to do with the lack of money for tickets) but I just never said "Self, let us go see the world!"

But I did see a bit of the world in which I have mostly only seen at home before. Stuff like really loud music that ranged from enjoyable to less than enjoyable, lots of stray beer bottles and intoxication floating about and lastly a lot of girls and guys interchangeable grinding themselves against one another.

Quite personally none of that (except the music) has held a lot of interest for me. I mean, I'm sure everyone has one of those days where they thought it would be funny to see a lot of intoxicated people trip over one another but it sort of grows old after awhile.

Being the product of a household of alcoholism I've never had any desire to drink. From my understanding the typical result of growing up around alcoholism is to become stunted emotionally and to copy the offending parent. I openly profess I am baffled by peoples insistence of repeating the past mistakes of others...but then again this isn't a question of logic. It is a deeper question of perspective and destination...not saying drinking is in and of itself evil, just that making oneself a slave of any desire is a ridiculously stupid idea and I say all this just to say that drinking just has absolutely no appeal to me.

I try not to be a judgmental jerk and look down on those who choose to partake and if I am of a reasonably stable mind I don't mind being around those drinking in moderation but all the same I would much prefer for people to do other things around me. Maybe like play marbles or hopscotch perhaps? No one has ever died of a hopscotch car related accidents have they?

I guess bars or clubs or whatever are basically all the same. Lot's of strange people drinking strange looking drinks while doing equally strange things on the dance floor. I stood in the corner with my faithful companions and looked over the crowd and listened to the music.

Without meaning to, I think I may have been a jerk to the rest of the group. All of them tried to engage me in conversation at one point or another but I kept zoning out and getting lost in thought. I kept getting this rather odd feeling in my stomach area. After first checking to make sure I wasn't spilling any blood out of my body I did some deep thinking for a while. I'll never understand why but my preferred music for deep thinking tends to revolve around loud, abrasive and slightly repetitive music.

Eventually I made some headway and after ducking out of the way of a few lumbering masses of happy go lucky party goers I sort of remembered what it was I was feeling. The last time I really felt like this, I was in the middle of some city in China at a Buddhist temple watching adherents perform rituals.


One of the many similarities every human being has in common with any other is that we all worship. Some people offer their love and adoration to statues, some to altars and still some offer it to other people.

A person may refuse to acknowledge the existence of any given deity but all the same we pander to something. It is just part of who we are, we acknowledge something bigger and what we perceive as being more important to us. Something(s) or someone(s) that brings us together in groups for a common reason and common purpose. It doesn't have to be fancy, it just has to be an outlet to help someone keep their sanity.

From what I can tell there is a very common element between the Buddhist temple, the dance floor at a bar and the service at a theologically sound Christian church.

One of my biggest problems with American Christianity is this huge chip that we all seem to wear on our collective shoulder. I think it must come from a misunderstanding of Scripture and Jesus' teachings.

If at any point a Christian has the arrogant stupidity to say they are somehow better off morally and spiritually then a brothel worker, a drug pedaler or even in fact a child rapist then they have completely missed the boat.

One of the basic ideas behind Christianity is how every human is a fallen and broken individual that has offended an infinite holy being and have to deal with the consequences of being born into a broken world. At best we can hope for and maybe establish a sort of half life of sorts, where we try to act as if everything is okay but deep down we know it is not.

The beauty of Christ is that he offers a free love and a free acceptance. It goes beyond our own broken nature and offers to begin the life long process of healing a corrupted heart that was born out of selfishness.

And the horrifyingly beautiful part is that the only part we play is in accepting it. If at any point we could actually do ANYTHING to be worthy of or to earn the grace and favor of God then we have manged to implode the entire salvation process. Considering the fabric of space and time are still flowing along it is safe to say Yahweh did not explode into a puff of logic generated by a human mind.

The thing is, I love to talk about grace as much as the next Christian. Just like them I only like to talk about it and I do not like to actually live as if I am already loved and accepted. It is much easier to continue living as if every choice I made would make my life somehow closer or further from that love.

Personal responsibility is a must and ultimately no one enjoys a 'know it all' but when it comes down to it we all have to throw what we have on the table. It is much easier to talk about theories regarding creation and salvation then it is to actually accept that God loves his creation. That in His eyes we are all equal, we are either on the path towards Him or away from Him.

There is a divide between us and God called sin and Jesus is that bridge needed to get back.

"In Christ's family there can be no division into Jew and non-Jew, slave and free, male and female. Among us you are all equal. That is, we are all in a common relationship with Jesus Christ."
-Galatians 3:28


I mentioned earlier about an element that keeps all of these different groups in common is that it is full of desperate human beings searching for some kind of meaning and purpose beyond the insanity of this world.

As dear old Uncle Ben of 'Spider Man' fame once said "With great power comes great responsibility." I suppose the same can be true of knowledge. The great tragedy of Americanized Christianity is that our arrogance prevents us from realizing we are living in a broken world. We are absolutely obsessed with the sound of our own voice and manage to speak loud enough to not just drown out the cries of those dying but the gentle whisper of Christ.

It is frustrating but I perceive the turning point can be that when we realize that are the problem and that what we believe is the solution but that we are not needed to save the world. We are just privileged that an infinite Love has an infinite desire to love such a finitely fickle and stupid group of people called The Church.

And oddly enough I think it would do both the world and the Church a world of good for the Church to show up for worship, I mean where the world congregates. The pubs, the casinos, the clubs, the brothels, the strip joints, the hospitals, the crack houses, the clubs and whatever else it is people gather. We are eager enough to berate people for not coming to us when we were told point blank to go to them.

Going not to judge but to simply see and learn. To realize that the people we brush off as being beneath us are worth loving and sharing love with. To realize that we are all more alike then we would care to know, that the love that flows in our veins is enough to wash away our stains and could do wonders for this broken planet.


Once again the problem is that I am a hypocrite and that I do not want to do anything except hide in my shell. I want to run screaming from real and honest relationships with people because it requires me to be human and to show the fact I am weak and can bleed.

I need this just as much as any other Christian and it sucks to admit this. It really upsets me that I have to admit I am just as screwed up as anyone else but the only difference is that I have an invisible and physically unprovable God supporting me and changing my life. It is not ideal by any human standards but it is the truth.

As Paul best put it:

"What actually took place is this: I tried keeping rules and working my head off to please God, and it didn't work. So I quit being a 'law man' so that i could be GOD's man. Christ's life showed me how, and enabled me to do it. I identified myself completely with him. Indeed, I have been crucified with Christ. My ego is no longer central. It is no longer important that I appear righteous before you or have your good opinion, and I am no longer driven to impress God. Christ lives in me. The life you see me living is not "mine" but it is lived by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I am not going to go back on that.

Is it not clear to you that to go back to that old rule-keeping, peer-pleasing religion would be an abandonment of everything personal and free in my relationship with God? I refuse to do that, to repudiate God's grace. If a living relationship with God could come by rule keeping, then Christ died unnecessarily."

-Galatians 2:19-21