Saturday, October 31, 2009
NANOWRIMO 2009
Fall is in full bloom.
The weather is getting colder, leaves are changing color and what little sunlight I see is decreased even more dramatically.
For some people that means it is game season, a lot of people go to stadiums and yell at these people dressed up weird colored shirts and helmets as people get upset and throw stuff at their tv's. As hard as I've tried I simply do not understand what is so exciting about watching people play when I can do something.
For me, that something is the season of novel writing.
A sacred time of thirty days in which the skies part and the impossible becomes possible. Rules are broken, time is bent, large quantities of caffeine is consumed and stories are written during this month.
National Novel Writing Month (http://www.nanowrimo.org/) is the eleventh annual world wide insane competition that has the goal of writing a fifty thousand word first draft novel in the thirty days of November.
This is an absolutely insane idea that deserves large quantities of criticism and disbelieving looks. It is a ridiculous concept that works however. This will be my third year participating and to be honest I nearly gave up and decided to not write.
The past several years have been absolutely insane and this year has been one medical and social drama after another...and the past week has been especially difficult. Just like every person who never succeed I have every reason to not try...I'm poor, broke, jobless, sick, tired, sleepless, contradictory, confusing, sometimes heretical, oftentimes confused and...so on and so forth.
I can't speak for anyone else...but I know people have their little lifelines that they turn to so that they stay sane. For me writing and music are divine activities that keep me from going completely off the deep end...I don't know how or why...but I have this deep spiritual connection in being able to write to really loud music...I find this almost zen like place where I can shove all of this world's crap away and almost begin to see not just me...but the way in which the world was meant to be.
I can't find the exact quote but Stephen King in one of his novel introductions (one of the Dark Tower books I believe) mentions how writers are inherently selfish creatures that write for one of two reasons:
1.For others.
2.For themselves.
In a lot of ways I feel I fall into the second...that would explain my extreme abuse of the pronouns "I" and "me". I love it so much when I have someone send me a message saying a poem, story or essay I wrote touched someone's life...it made them think deeper or even just made them really angry with me and they wanted to tell me why I'm going to Hell for being a heretic. I mean, some sort of response and commentary is nice...but at the end of the day if I was just locked into a dark room with a word processor and a mixed tape of Daft Punk and The Clash I would write until I passed out.
I'm a selfish being who is still trying to figure out who he is and where I am in this absolutely insane world...part of that process is in writing. Writing itself is an amalgamation of every experince a person has that gets turned into something else. No book you have ever read has simply been churned out in draft...it's an incredibly painful process of rewriting and revising which can last for years...and all of it is in pursuit of some idea of identity.
One of my favorite quotes from the film adaptation of 'V for Vendetta' is that "...artists use lies to tell the truth, while politicians use them to cover the truth up."
Although a story has a lot of influence from the writer's own life (see anything written by Franz Kafka or Elie Wiesel if you want a good example of how horror can come from the soul) oftentimes the revising process takes out the fluff and adds in story.
So I could say no to writing...could crawl back into my shell and hurt...or face these demons and laugh at them. Like Martin Luther said "The best way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn."
I am still not sure of myself, where I'm going or if I am going to get there...I just know that there comes a time to draw a line in the sand and push back. This may be a struggle that goes on in my mind and soul...but it is a battle all the same. Maybe it is overly dramatic...but those who have dealt with chronic illnesses know what I'm talking about.
Life isn't always the happiest place to be...and the more you learn the easier it is to become bitter and cynical...but there comes a point to where you just have to let go and be yourself. There is no sense to hold onto false images of yourself because if you aren't going to make the effort to take care of yourself...no one will.
So in a way NANOWRIMO is therapy...just like writing poetry, essays and blogging at 3AM. Just like playing the bass, listening to ska and dancing across my room while my cat looks on in fascinated horror.
I have two novels from NANOWRIMO which are in various stages of rewrite. They form the basis from some rather grand attempt of mine to start a series about the end of the world and a group of heroes royally screwing things up so bad that the world gets taken over. I'm not sure what will become of that series.
In fact I'm still not sure of what I'll be writing about come midnight tonight.
I have several different ideas for stories...but still no real solid idea.
Some possible things I may explore:
-Romantic comedy of some sort.
-A musician (bass player of course) finally making it in a band.
-A guy so immersed in the world of an online RPG his life takes on a surreal quality where the lines between reality and fiction blur so totally that he isn't able to distinguish between reality and the role play relationships in a game.
-The sequel to that previous idea that a friend jokingly said she would write and my sequel would involve the two in a relationship and trying to make things world while a zombie uprising happens.
-A third book in my as of not yet series,
-A sort of play on the sniper character from the game 'Borderlands' I've been playing recently with my best friend James.
-A surreal first person story about a guy who wakes up in his apartment and is unable to escape (think Silent Hill like psychological horror).
-All of the ideas mixed together with an extra helping of George A. Romero zombies sprinkled in.
Goodness...I don't know.
Time is ticking away and the word count is looming in the distance as I stare it down and I am readying my sources of caffeine and my determination to win this.
As a last note I want to thank my brave friends who have decided to embark on this crazy venture with me...it's always nice to have people along when you are busy loosing your mind!
Onward to noveling victory my friends!
The weather is getting colder, leaves are changing color and what little sunlight I see is decreased even more dramatically.
For some people that means it is game season, a lot of people go to stadiums and yell at these people dressed up weird colored shirts and helmets as people get upset and throw stuff at their tv's. As hard as I've tried I simply do not understand what is so exciting about watching people play when I can do something.
For me, that something is the season of novel writing.
A sacred time of thirty days in which the skies part and the impossible becomes possible. Rules are broken, time is bent, large quantities of caffeine is consumed and stories are written during this month.
National Novel Writing Month (http://www.nanowrimo.org/) is the eleventh annual world wide insane competition that has the goal of writing a fifty thousand word first draft novel in the thirty days of November.
This is an absolutely insane idea that deserves large quantities of criticism and disbelieving looks. It is a ridiculous concept that works however. This will be my third year participating and to be honest I nearly gave up and decided to not write.
The past several years have been absolutely insane and this year has been one medical and social drama after another...and the past week has been especially difficult. Just like every person who never succeed I have every reason to not try...I'm poor, broke, jobless, sick, tired, sleepless, contradictory, confusing, sometimes heretical, oftentimes confused and...so on and so forth.
I can't speak for anyone else...but I know people have their little lifelines that they turn to so that they stay sane. For me writing and music are divine activities that keep me from going completely off the deep end...I don't know how or why...but I have this deep spiritual connection in being able to write to really loud music...I find this almost zen like place where I can shove all of this world's crap away and almost begin to see not just me...but the way in which the world was meant to be.
I can't find the exact quote but Stephen King in one of his novel introductions (one of the Dark Tower books I believe) mentions how writers are inherently selfish creatures that write for one of two reasons:
1.For others.
2.For themselves.
In a lot of ways I feel I fall into the second...that would explain my extreme abuse of the pronouns "I" and "me". I love it so much when I have someone send me a message saying a poem, story or essay I wrote touched someone's life...it made them think deeper or even just made them really angry with me and they wanted to tell me why I'm going to Hell for being a heretic. I mean, some sort of response and commentary is nice...but at the end of the day if I was just locked into a dark room with a word processor and a mixed tape of Daft Punk and The Clash I would write until I passed out.
I'm a selfish being who is still trying to figure out who he is and where I am in this absolutely insane world...part of that process is in writing. Writing itself is an amalgamation of every experince a person has that gets turned into something else. No book you have ever read has simply been churned out in draft...it's an incredibly painful process of rewriting and revising which can last for years...and all of it is in pursuit of some idea of identity.
One of my favorite quotes from the film adaptation of 'V for Vendetta' is that "...artists use lies to tell the truth, while politicians use them to cover the truth up."
Although a story has a lot of influence from the writer's own life (see anything written by Franz Kafka or Elie Wiesel if you want a good example of how horror can come from the soul) oftentimes the revising process takes out the fluff and adds in story.
So I could say no to writing...could crawl back into my shell and hurt...or face these demons and laugh at them. Like Martin Luther said "The best way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn."
I am still not sure of myself, where I'm going or if I am going to get there...I just know that there comes a time to draw a line in the sand and push back. This may be a struggle that goes on in my mind and soul...but it is a battle all the same. Maybe it is overly dramatic...but those who have dealt with chronic illnesses know what I'm talking about.
Life isn't always the happiest place to be...and the more you learn the easier it is to become bitter and cynical...but there comes a point to where you just have to let go and be yourself. There is no sense to hold onto false images of yourself because if you aren't going to make the effort to take care of yourself...no one will.
So in a way NANOWRIMO is therapy...just like writing poetry, essays and blogging at 3AM. Just like playing the bass, listening to ska and dancing across my room while my cat looks on in fascinated horror.
I have two novels from NANOWRIMO which are in various stages of rewrite. They form the basis from some rather grand attempt of mine to start a series about the end of the world and a group of heroes royally screwing things up so bad that the world gets taken over. I'm not sure what will become of that series.
In fact I'm still not sure of what I'll be writing about come midnight tonight.
I have several different ideas for stories...but still no real solid idea.
Some possible things I may explore:
-Romantic comedy of some sort.
-A musician (bass player of course) finally making it in a band.
-A guy so immersed in the world of an online RPG his life takes on a surreal quality where the lines between reality and fiction blur so totally that he isn't able to distinguish between reality and the role play relationships in a game.
-The sequel to that previous idea that a friend jokingly said she would write and my sequel would involve the two in a relationship and trying to make things world while a zombie uprising happens.
-A third book in my as of not yet series,
-A sort of play on the sniper character from the game 'Borderlands' I've been playing recently with my best friend James.
-A surreal first person story about a guy who wakes up in his apartment and is unable to escape (think Silent Hill like psychological horror).
-All of the ideas mixed together with an extra helping of George A. Romero zombies sprinkled in.
Goodness...I don't know.
Time is ticking away and the word count is looming in the distance as I stare it down and I am readying my sources of caffeine and my determination to win this.
As a last note I want to thank my brave friends who have decided to embark on this crazy venture with me...it's always nice to have people along when you are busy loosing your mind!
Onward to noveling victory my friends!
I never knew I could be so pissed off at myself for doing the right thing.
I...God just help me to get my head on straight.
Remind me why I'm alive.
I can pray...I can stay at a distance and separate myself so I'm not destroyed by my wayward heart.
I don't have to be subjected to every whim, every struggle and allow it to cause my heart so much pain. I'm here to serve but allowing myself to be destroyed serves no one and is a disservice to You...myself and those I'm here to help.
I just...have such a struggle with trying to do the right thing...for the right reasons...I don't suppose any of us ever come to You for the right reason, right Lord?
I just...I struggle...I need to communicate in my mind...but it's none of my concern...what happens will happen without me around. Life existed before and after me...I'm living and dying apart from billions of people...the few I come across are just fleeting moments that will be gone just as soon. It hurts but that is reality...that is everything...here...gone...forever...
It hurts...but I can...I have to survive.
I...God just help me to get my head on straight.
Remind me why I'm alive.
I can pray...I can stay at a distance and separate myself so I'm not destroyed by my wayward heart.
I don't have to be subjected to every whim, every struggle and allow it to cause my heart so much pain. I'm here to serve but allowing myself to be destroyed serves no one and is a disservice to You...myself and those I'm here to help.
I just...have such a struggle with trying to do the right thing...for the right reasons...I don't suppose any of us ever come to You for the right reason, right Lord?
I just...I struggle...I need to communicate in my mind...but it's none of my concern...what happens will happen without me around. Life existed before and after me...I'm living and dying apart from billions of people...the few I come across are just fleeting moments that will be gone just as soon. It hurts but that is reality...that is everything...here...gone...forever...
It hurts...but I can...I have to survive.
I'm so...so tired of hurting.
Can't we just get along now?
Without the pain?
The only thing worse than the pain is the feelings of...
Locationless, meaningless and drifting apart as it were.
Do you see it?
Do you really see?
Can you feel?
Really feel this coming?
It's not like I ever really believed,
believed in you
or trusted what could be real
or self assured in the night.
Everything is just drifting
and fading
and ripping apart.
Soon, so soon
I can be free.
Can't we just get along now?
Without the pain?
The only thing worse than the pain is the feelings of...
Locationless, meaningless and drifting apart as it were.
Do you see it?
Do you really see?
Can you feel?
Really feel this coming?
It's not like I ever really believed,
believed in you
or trusted what could be real
or self assured in the night.
Everything is just drifting
and fading
and ripping apart.
Soon, so soon
I can be free.
Friday, October 30, 2009
I've hit a point to where I'm seriously considering just not doing NANOWRIMO this year. I can't focus...I have no idea what I want to write about much less something I would actually enjoy.
I'm such a minefield of convoluted thoughts right now.
Every idea I come up with is even more stupid than the last.
Part of the self imposed stipulation I had this year was that I can't write unless I find a job...and I found one...another menial and pointless minimum wage job that I am sure is only going to enhance my fun insomnia issues.
My optimism is that life is almost over, both good and bad.
Every moment is contained in this one.
All that there ever was could fit in the breadth of this single breath.
And...
There just is nothing of matter and of point I can bring my mind around to focus on...it's being so lost in the forest that I forgot about trees. There is a strong part of me that wants to leave the forest and see what the rest of life offers...but so much more of me doesn't care if I see another ray of sunlight again.
There is a dark blot that is on my soul and it is darkness.
It see all as hypocrisy and the divine as a profane hallucination.
I do not remember what it is I wanted to see.
What kind of change I was wanting to feel.
Where is the breeze,
the wind from the West
which brought us to this land?
A mythic land existed inside my mind.
I pretended absolutes were absolute
and that the finite could touch
and reach into the heavens.
Instead I feel the absurdity
of my blasphemy.
Nothing can last forever,
the eternal is in our hearts
and death doth matter
but as for these fleeting thoughts
I know not.
I want to curse the day
the moment I realized
and then knew
and ever since have been plagued
by this burning hunger for knowledge.
Knowing does nothing
to console the grieving heart
and does nothing
to help one live.
Trouble breathing,
nothing new.
Just a touch of madness
and a departing of emotion,
replacement with apathy
and the desire to fade away.
To not be seen,
such a blessing,
but even more blessed
is the one to never be born.
Sacred affirmation
of a realized salvation.
I'm such a minefield of convoluted thoughts right now.
Every idea I come up with is even more stupid than the last.
Part of the self imposed stipulation I had this year was that I can't write unless I find a job...and I found one...another menial and pointless minimum wage job that I am sure is only going to enhance my fun insomnia issues.
My optimism is that life is almost over, both good and bad.
Every moment is contained in this one.
All that there ever was could fit in the breadth of this single breath.
And...
There just is nothing of matter and of point I can bring my mind around to focus on...it's being so lost in the forest that I forgot about trees. There is a strong part of me that wants to leave the forest and see what the rest of life offers...but so much more of me doesn't care if I see another ray of sunlight again.
There is a dark blot that is on my soul and it is darkness.
It see all as hypocrisy and the divine as a profane hallucination.
I do not remember what it is I wanted to see.
What kind of change I was wanting to feel.
Where is the breeze,
the wind from the West
which brought us to this land?
A mythic land existed inside my mind.
I pretended absolutes were absolute
and that the finite could touch
and reach into the heavens.
Instead I feel the absurdity
of my blasphemy.
Nothing can last forever,
the eternal is in our hearts
and death doth matter
but as for these fleeting thoughts
I know not.
I want to curse the day
the moment I realized
and then knew
and ever since have been plagued
by this burning hunger for knowledge.
Knowing does nothing
to console the grieving heart
and does nothing
to help one live.
Trouble breathing,
nothing new.
Just a touch of madness
and a departing of emotion,
replacement with apathy
and the desire to fade away.
To not be seen,
such a blessing,
but even more blessed
is the one to never be born.
Sacred affirmation
of a realized salvation.
"What are you so scared of sister
What made you so afraid to feel
To chose a stone cold liberation
The one thing I hate most about me
Is the one thing you want to make your trademark
To feel lust without cute boring love
But don't you ever just like me
Long for purity
Don't you ever
Get sick of our territories
Don't you ever feel like glass
Fragile, hurting, letting it pass
Don't you think it's time to trespass
But when the fire is gone
Who are you?
What are you so scared of sister?
I'm just as scared as you"
What made you so afraid to feel
To chose a stone cold liberation
The one thing I hate most about me
Is the one thing you want to make your trademark
To feel lust without cute boring love
But don't you ever just like me
Long for purity
Don't you ever
Get sick of our territories
Don't you ever feel like glass
Fragile, hurting, letting it pass
Don't you think it's time to trespass
But when the fire is gone
Who are you?
What are you so scared of sister?
I'm just as scared as you"
As if I needed more reasons to be depressed...
Let's count the reasons:
1.Chronic pain.
2.Drama every few feet.
3.Ministryless.
4.Jobless.
5.Unable to eat foodless.
And...I won't be going to Atlanta to help with xxxchurch's outreach at the gay pride festival...because I don't have money. I can't borrow a car (mine needs an oil change and tires fixed) and I do not have the gas money for a trip there and back again. All my attempts at securing some sort of help has failed.
Gargh.
This whole planning and still failing thing is getting...really freaking upsetting.
YES I am taking this worse than I should...but I just want...I mean I pray and I feel led to do things and it doesn't work out...and I don't know what to do...I don't know what to say or pray except to cry and cry a lot because of how frustrated I am.
Maybe I'm not supposed to be a minister or do ministry work as a 'profession' but then...just what the heck am I supposed to do?
God I feel so sick...I'm trying not to throw up but this stress is just making is worse.
*sigh*
I'm going to go jump out my window and see if I can land on my head in such a way that ideas are forced to jump forward.
1.Chronic pain.
2.Drama every few feet.
3.Ministryless.
4.Jobless.
5.Unable to eat foodless.
And...I won't be going to Atlanta to help with xxxchurch's outreach at the gay pride festival...because I don't have money. I can't borrow a car (mine needs an oil change and tires fixed) and I do not have the gas money for a trip there and back again. All my attempts at securing some sort of help has failed.
Gargh.
This whole planning and still failing thing is getting...really freaking upsetting.
YES I am taking this worse than I should...but I just want...I mean I pray and I feel led to do things and it doesn't work out...and I don't know what to do...I don't know what to say or pray except to cry and cry a lot because of how frustrated I am.
Maybe I'm not supposed to be a minister or do ministry work as a 'profession' but then...just what the heck am I supposed to do?
God I feel so sick...I'm trying not to throw up but this stress is just making is worse.
*sigh*
I'm going to go jump out my window and see if I can land on my head in such a way that ideas are forced to jump forward.
Never too Early to Have my Eyes Profaned
I do not sleep much at all these days...a mixture of anxiety, pain and medication keep me running and I'm sure at some later date I'm going to collapse and sleep for a month but that is a side point that has nothing to do with what is on my mind. I was looking at my blog, rereading the past days insanity and decided to look at another blog, so I started clicking on the 'next' button located at the top of the screen and made it through some unremarkable blogs before I landed on a Russian porn site.
I suppose it does say something about my brain that when it is confronted with a language that is not mine and naked bodies my mind instantly focuses on the language and tries to identify it. After a few seconds I had my answer and I was just left sort of...stunned at the rather over the top graphic pictures I was seeing.
I felt sick to my stomach and just this...pity and hurt for the people in the pictures.
I don't understand how people can willingly get into porn, stripping or prostituting themselves. A lot of people seem to get in it because of bad financial issues and some just get into it because of some need for expression or voyeurism...but God I just do not get it.
I don't understand why people find that sort of thing attractive...random naked human beings reduced to caricatures that would be the same for advertising a sandwhich. I mean, for God's sake these are human beings, not just objects strewn about for fun.
I do not understand it but I do not want it to seem like I'm trying to come off as if I'm trying to judge them...it's the industry, the people who buy this garbage that helps to fuel what I can't help but call exploitation. In most cases it may be consenting adults...but somewhere at some point the souls are just having to die.
Looking at the smut on my computer screen I felt like I was looking at something as intimate as broken and bloody bodies on the side of the road from a car wreck. This is someone's daughter, their sister, their cousin, their friend...I just don't...there is this mental block here in my head.
I mean, I am human, I have a sex drive and sort of understand the notion of how nudity can even be tasteful art but this...I just don't know.
XXXChurch has always been a ministry I've supported and wanted to work with because they don't beat people with Bibles, they instead give them out at porn conventions and tell them that Jesus loves them, loves the porn stars. And it's the truth...those of us who know Jesus, none of us are loved based on our merits...but based on the fact Jesus loves us because we are, no more and no less.
It feels like pretentious crap to say I want to pray for these actors, those who are addicted to this stuff, those who I know that have failing marriages because of it...but saying that always feels like I'm trying to be smug and point the finger and say "Look how not screwed up I am!" but I am...mentally I am screwed up.
I don't understand sexuality and how it defines my identity exactly...I don't know what being a real man is about. I've never had a steady father figure...I've had a few mentors that have helped...but no one I can just call dad, I guess that is one reason why I cling to Jesus so desperately...I don't feel I can really connect with people and if God loves me...well that is something much better than just feeling like I'm a freak that a dad couldn't love enough to stay in the picture for.
I don't want to go into the details but I was subjected to porn when I was younger and it's always made me feel incredibly awkward. Most general thoughts of nudity in general makes me feel nauseated...personally if I could I would shower while wearing a wetsuit and pretend that sexuality didn't exist...
I'm not comfortable with the whole idea of us being made in God's image as male and female...the fact I do have a sex drive, I have feelings and emotions...all that mixed in my head just makes me want to scream and throw myself through a window to just try and knock some logic into myself.
I just feel so bombarded with sexuality...it feels so cheap and worthless when you think that sex is supposed to be this holy and sacred thing and it's been reduced to something as shallow as hamburger meat. It honestly enrages me beyond expression that so many females I care about have this idea that somehow they are inferior because they are not mirror images of what is dancing across that stupid television set...what is all this stupid chaos and nonsense?
It's like watching tremors from the fall still shake across and make society reveal itself as this cheap and shallow thing. What good old days? Human beings have always been cheap and disgusting...just super religiousism manages to act like everything is fine.
I just...at the end of the day I wish I could just expunge all of these feelings of need and desire...wash away every thought and want for a relationship...maybe I'm different but I don't want sex if I cannot have it in marriage...it seems so cheap and shallow and I just want things to work out perfectly somehow...and I just don't understand.
My mind is so limited and I am blinded by everything I do not know...
But Jesus is more than just Love...He is.
There is hope and hope that things will not stay the same...that somehow everything can be made right.
I do not want to be this shallow person who pretends to understand love...I want to throw my life away and take up whatever ministry it is I am supposed to be doing...I want to work with xxxchurch and work in the spiritual slums where people do not know they are loved. The whole joke about meeting a Christian stripper wasn't funny the first time and I just...I hate how shallow and hollow everything feels about life.
I don't understand why people would want to pay someone for sex, pay them to take their clothes off in this fake expression that has no real meaning...am I just missing something? Some sort of gene? Is it wrong that I think people who are so hyper focused on sex that they have no perspective and think that it is 'good' have something screwed up?
I'm not trying to be judging...it's not my place to condemn and people have the right to free speech...but what about when that speech starts eating at their souls and other peoples?
People are lonely and want a cheap thrill...I'm lonely and just want to just go Home...to go away from this confusing place that I want no part of...not because of being a self righteous prick...but because I'm a depressed coward too afraid of life to act. I want to go away so I never have to see this place again. I want to feel eternity and know everything...will be...okay...
I suppose it does say something about my brain that when it is confronted with a language that is not mine and naked bodies my mind instantly focuses on the language and tries to identify it. After a few seconds I had my answer and I was just left sort of...stunned at the rather over the top graphic pictures I was seeing.
I felt sick to my stomach and just this...pity and hurt for the people in the pictures.
I don't understand how people can willingly get into porn, stripping or prostituting themselves. A lot of people seem to get in it because of bad financial issues and some just get into it because of some need for expression or voyeurism...but God I just do not get it.
I don't understand why people find that sort of thing attractive...random naked human beings reduced to caricatures that would be the same for advertising a sandwhich. I mean, for God's sake these are human beings, not just objects strewn about for fun.
I do not understand it but I do not want it to seem like I'm trying to come off as if I'm trying to judge them...it's the industry, the people who buy this garbage that helps to fuel what I can't help but call exploitation. In most cases it may be consenting adults...but somewhere at some point the souls are just having to die.
Looking at the smut on my computer screen I felt like I was looking at something as intimate as broken and bloody bodies on the side of the road from a car wreck. This is someone's daughter, their sister, their cousin, their friend...I just don't...there is this mental block here in my head.
I mean, I am human, I have a sex drive and sort of understand the notion of how nudity can even be tasteful art but this...I just don't know.
XXXChurch has always been a ministry I've supported and wanted to work with because they don't beat people with Bibles, they instead give them out at porn conventions and tell them that Jesus loves them, loves the porn stars. And it's the truth...those of us who know Jesus, none of us are loved based on our merits...but based on the fact Jesus loves us because we are, no more and no less.
It feels like pretentious crap to say I want to pray for these actors, those who are addicted to this stuff, those who I know that have failing marriages because of it...but saying that always feels like I'm trying to be smug and point the finger and say "Look how not screwed up I am!" but I am...mentally I am screwed up.
I don't understand sexuality and how it defines my identity exactly...I don't know what being a real man is about. I've never had a steady father figure...I've had a few mentors that have helped...but no one I can just call dad, I guess that is one reason why I cling to Jesus so desperately...I don't feel I can really connect with people and if God loves me...well that is something much better than just feeling like I'm a freak that a dad couldn't love enough to stay in the picture for.
I don't want to go into the details but I was subjected to porn when I was younger and it's always made me feel incredibly awkward. Most general thoughts of nudity in general makes me feel nauseated...personally if I could I would shower while wearing a wetsuit and pretend that sexuality didn't exist...
I'm not comfortable with the whole idea of us being made in God's image as male and female...the fact I do have a sex drive, I have feelings and emotions...all that mixed in my head just makes me want to scream and throw myself through a window to just try and knock some logic into myself.
I just feel so bombarded with sexuality...it feels so cheap and worthless when you think that sex is supposed to be this holy and sacred thing and it's been reduced to something as shallow as hamburger meat. It honestly enrages me beyond expression that so many females I care about have this idea that somehow they are inferior because they are not mirror images of what is dancing across that stupid television set...what is all this stupid chaos and nonsense?
It's like watching tremors from the fall still shake across and make society reveal itself as this cheap and shallow thing. What good old days? Human beings have always been cheap and disgusting...just super religiousism manages to act like everything is fine.
I just...at the end of the day I wish I could just expunge all of these feelings of need and desire...wash away every thought and want for a relationship...maybe I'm different but I don't want sex if I cannot have it in marriage...it seems so cheap and shallow and I just want things to work out perfectly somehow...and I just don't understand.
My mind is so limited and I am blinded by everything I do not know...
But Jesus is more than just Love...He is.
There is hope and hope that things will not stay the same...that somehow everything can be made right.
I do not want to be this shallow person who pretends to understand love...I want to throw my life away and take up whatever ministry it is I am supposed to be doing...I want to work with xxxchurch and work in the spiritual slums where people do not know they are loved. The whole joke about meeting a Christian stripper wasn't funny the first time and I just...I hate how shallow and hollow everything feels about life.
I don't understand why people would want to pay someone for sex, pay them to take their clothes off in this fake expression that has no real meaning...am I just missing something? Some sort of gene? Is it wrong that I think people who are so hyper focused on sex that they have no perspective and think that it is 'good' have something screwed up?
I'm not trying to be judging...it's not my place to condemn and people have the right to free speech...but what about when that speech starts eating at their souls and other peoples?
People are lonely and want a cheap thrill...I'm lonely and just want to just go Home...to go away from this confusing place that I want no part of...not because of being a self righteous prick...but because I'm a depressed coward too afraid of life to act. I want to go away so I never have to see this place again. I want to feel eternity and know everything...will be...okay...
Wishing for Hope
Is it normal to...long for another world like this?
To wish for all things to be brought to their end...
To know my person leaving this world behind?
I don't know.
I long for freedom.
To be truly free.
No more illness.
No more of this bleeding heart.
I wan to be united with my only possible Love.
No more pain.
I'm tired of being so lonely.
Since the day I was ill conceived.
I'm ready for something more.
If there is and will be.
How long Lord?
How long will I wait?
To have my desires unfufilled.
To have nothing but these insufficent longings as my friends?
How long?
Please.
End this now.
To wish for all things to be brought to their end...
To know my person leaving this world behind?
I don't know.
I long for freedom.
To be truly free.
No more illness.
No more of this bleeding heart.
I wan to be united with my only possible Love.
No more pain.
I'm tired of being so lonely.
Since the day I was ill conceived.
I'm ready for something more.
If there is and will be.
How long Lord?
How long will I wait?
To have my desires unfufilled.
To have nothing but these insufficent longings as my friends?
How long?
Please.
End this now.
Quote of the Day:
"Can a mortal ask questions which God finds unanswerable? Quite easily, I should think. All nonsense questions are unanswerable. How many hours are there in a mile? Is yellow square or round? Probably half the questions we ask-half our great theological and metaphysical problems-are like that."
-C.S. Lewis
-C.S. Lewis
Thursday, October 29, 2009
I think it's possible expectation is my biggest enemy and why my mind is so freaking over the place.
What would honestly happen if I just eliminated all expectation?
Is that such a horrible thing?
Both negative and positive.
And just accepted things 'as is'?
God I wish this would have clicked in my head years ago...I don't know how to go about breaking the ingrained sentiments I have...but God that would help...no expectations from friends, family, love, Jesus...anything.
That almost sounds like a healthy alternative to just investing in pure apathy.
What would honestly happen if I just eliminated all expectation?
Is that such a horrible thing?
Both negative and positive.
And just accepted things 'as is'?
God I wish this would have clicked in my head years ago...I don't know how to go about breaking the ingrained sentiments I have...but God that would help...no expectations from friends, family, love, Jesus...anything.
That almost sounds like a healthy alternative to just investing in pure apathy.
The thing that terrifies me the most about my dreams...much less my nightmares...isn't how realistic they are...but how realistic they FEEL.
I hate getting to this...place where I don't know if I've been talking to people or not...have had conversations.
God.
I'm a mess.
It has not been a pleasant twelve hours of freaking out...
If I live long enough to escape from here I am never returning willingly or alive.
I hate getting to this...place where I don't know if I've been talking to people or not...have had conversations.
God.
I'm a mess.
It has not been a pleasant twelve hours of freaking out...
If I live long enough to escape from here I am never returning willingly or alive.
God I freaking fell asleep.
That was the single most horrible and real nightmare I have had...I thought I freaking awake...and getting injections.
Seriously...are you trying to make a point or somethin?
I can't even process all of the elements of the nightmare...schools, military, injections, gunfire, people I know dying...
Jesus, enough already.
Please.
That was the single most horrible and real nightmare I have had...I thought I freaking awake...and getting injections.
Seriously...are you trying to make a point or somethin?
I can't even process all of the elements of the nightmare...schools, military, injections, gunfire, people I know dying...
Jesus, enough already.
Please.
I wish I would stop missing my grandmother.
The past is the past.
Why can I not let things go and just forget it already?
This...see this is what I'm talking about.
Ignoring, forgetting everything...it'll create a personal Hell.
But being numb in a personal Hell beats being vividly alive in one...and having every new day pour gasoline on the flames with new complications and new problems.
Why can't things just go back to being simple?
I haven't aged.
The very notion of me even considering being a father is mere madness.
I would be a unspeakably horribly person to actually want someone else to go through anything like what I'm going through right now.
Delusions, mad delusions.
The past is the past.
Why can I not let things go and just forget it already?
This...see this is what I'm talking about.
Ignoring, forgetting everything...it'll create a personal Hell.
But being numb in a personal Hell beats being vividly alive in one...and having every new day pour gasoline on the flames with new complications and new problems.
Why can't things just go back to being simple?
I haven't aged.
The very notion of me even considering being a father is mere madness.
I would be a unspeakably horribly person to actually want someone else to go through anything like what I'm going through right now.
Delusions, mad delusions.
Explosively Explicit Rant
Trying is absolutely frivolous.
Pointless beyond reason.
Nothing here is going to last.
No connection or relationship is worth investment or trying.
But my nature be damned I cannot quit.
I want to throw up all of this emotion, I want to be rid of it.
I want to show my revulsion with feeling.
I want to die on the inside and never feel again.
I want to be numb to life.
I never want to breath again.
But I can't quit.
You won't let me.
I'm a child, spoiled child who wants to throw a tantrum.
I want to lay here in the mud and blood and the beer and weep.
Weep in shame for everything I am and everything that I am not.
I'm so insecure and I have to pain it in bright read letters on here so everyone can see it.
I'm weak, I'm sick.
Physically I just want to give up because it feels like I won't heal and I won't get better. I don't sleep, I can't and when I do it's nightmares...mentally I'm not here.
Emotionally I'm stretched beyond the snapping point and feel like the ground is just sliding out from under me and it's only a moment before I loose the rest of these.
I have to get out of this house...I'm afraid for my life, I can't focus...writing is this blob of complete crap...this isn't anything.
This is rubbish, this entire stupid blog is nothing.
I keep throwing myself at mirrors and cutting myself on them to just find I'm just Narcissus, following in love my own image and no one was there in the first place.
I'm sending words out to no one and the only person's time I'm wasting is my own.
It's not a letter in a bottle, it's an encyclopedia of hate locked inside my own prison, my own coffin.
Why am I trying?
Why am I fighting the inevitable?
All of this will fade.
Everyone.
No one will be here to stand with me.
I'll be fighting by myself, alone again.
Few people, a damn few people understand me.
Understand why I am trying to stand at all.
This isn't the movies, this ain't a game.
Few people care, few people see the truth.
No one wants to give up their comfort.
No one wants to sell everything to just buy a worthless piece of land with a single prized pearl in it.
No one is going to give up their life just so they can gain the eternal.
It's pointless.
I'm beyond being on another level, I'm just in another plane altogether.
This isn't just about ministry, it is about life itself.
The darkness that encroaches every aspect of life, people selling themselves short over mud pies when they have all of eternity within grasp.
People can't grasp the temporal, much less the true nature of life.
I'm not saying I know.
I just know enough to be dangerous.
I know that I don't know.
And God it is driving me mad.
I know Love, I've felt and seen it.
It terrifies me as much as I'm intoxicated by it.
I want freedom, I need freedom.
My mind will never shut off until everything crashes down forever.
People want a show.
They want emotion.
They paid good money to see me beg and that's why they are here.
People want to see those on the pedestals come crashing down.
They live vicariously the plastic screens and everyone says they want the happy ending but they pay to see lives crumble so we can all go back home to our nihilistic hell holes and stay there.
Apathy consumes because it is easier to pretend humans are just numbers, that unborn babies are mere collections of souls and the people being raped and murdered in fucking genocides are useless figures...uneducated people useless and not worth anything in the grand scheme.
I hate arrogance so much.
I hate my own the most.
I hate the scum I represent as ministry.
Religion is a sham.
Jesus is the life, the truth and only way that works...everything else is utter bullshit coined to help us ignore the suffering around us and so we can wash our hands of responsibility.
The more I read about how Jesus LOVES, the more I realize I am a selfish brat who doesn't care about anything besides laying here in this trash heap of my things. I say I want to change the world but I'm too much of a coward.
Martyrs, the ones who willingly embrace being beaten to death, starving themselves for others, giving their lives to the Truth (not those mislabeled dogmatic fools that are nothing more than blind idiots who blow themselves up because they are neurotically depressed and too scared to face the fact that life is complex, not simply black and white).
I don't want to suffer.
I complain, I'm frightened, I'm scared out of my mind and I can't help but swear because of how outraged and terrified I am.
I don't want comfort either.
I want to stew in this rage and let it overtake me.
I want to be the little child who lays down and cries while beating the floor because of how absolutely terrified I am.
I'm terrified of being right.
That Jesus is the Messiah who loves us all and my 'job' is to love people, build relationships and tell them that they are infinitely loved.
Being loved scares me, it's easier to be feared and hated than loved...love covers over a multitude of sins and means you can be redeemed from the cesspool you live in...it means you can't live in sin and pretend that life is black and white and a game.
I want to live in games, virtual settings, roleplays...these pretend worlds because I hate my reality so much...who I am.
I hate knowing the Father loves me so much Jesus died for my sins, rose again and loves me infinitely and holds nothing against me. I hate knowing it because I am created to love Him and love all of you and everyone else.
I'm supposed to love the religious, the conservative, the liberals, my ex-girlfriends, my friends, my family...and I would rather just put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger than talk to most of these people because communicating is ripping my heart apart...trying to live in eternity and this world at the same time is ripping me to pieces and I can't function at all.
I cry and it doesn't help.
I ask for help.
I pray.
God I pray.
I'm more alone now than I was before.
The more I pray the more I feel the void.
Where did You go?
I had idols I don't want.
Just rip me out of reality.
Take me home, I want to go HOME please.
If You are more than a delusion, the makings of a sick mind...just help me push past this or take me away.
I can't breath.
It hurts so bad...please.
Pointless beyond reason.
Nothing here is going to last.
No connection or relationship is worth investment or trying.
But my nature be damned I cannot quit.
I want to throw up all of this emotion, I want to be rid of it.
I want to show my revulsion with feeling.
I want to die on the inside and never feel again.
I want to be numb to life.
I never want to breath again.
But I can't quit.
You won't let me.
I'm a child, spoiled child who wants to throw a tantrum.
I want to lay here in the mud and blood and the beer and weep.
Weep in shame for everything I am and everything that I am not.
I'm so insecure and I have to pain it in bright read letters on here so everyone can see it.
I'm weak, I'm sick.
Physically I just want to give up because it feels like I won't heal and I won't get better. I don't sleep, I can't and when I do it's nightmares...mentally I'm not here.
Emotionally I'm stretched beyond the snapping point and feel like the ground is just sliding out from under me and it's only a moment before I loose the rest of these.
I have to get out of this house...I'm afraid for my life, I can't focus...writing is this blob of complete crap...this isn't anything.
This is rubbish, this entire stupid blog is nothing.
I keep throwing myself at mirrors and cutting myself on them to just find I'm just Narcissus, following in love my own image and no one was there in the first place.
I'm sending words out to no one and the only person's time I'm wasting is my own.
It's not a letter in a bottle, it's an encyclopedia of hate locked inside my own prison, my own coffin.
Why am I trying?
Why am I fighting the inevitable?
All of this will fade.
Everyone.
No one will be here to stand with me.
I'll be fighting by myself, alone again.
Few people, a damn few people understand me.
Understand why I am trying to stand at all.
This isn't the movies, this ain't a game.
Few people care, few people see the truth.
No one wants to give up their comfort.
No one wants to sell everything to just buy a worthless piece of land with a single prized pearl in it.
No one is going to give up their life just so they can gain the eternal.
It's pointless.
I'm beyond being on another level, I'm just in another plane altogether.
This isn't just about ministry, it is about life itself.
The darkness that encroaches every aspect of life, people selling themselves short over mud pies when they have all of eternity within grasp.
People can't grasp the temporal, much less the true nature of life.
I'm not saying I know.
I just know enough to be dangerous.
I know that I don't know.
And God it is driving me mad.
I know Love, I've felt and seen it.
It terrifies me as much as I'm intoxicated by it.
I want freedom, I need freedom.
My mind will never shut off until everything crashes down forever.
People want a show.
They want emotion.
They paid good money to see me beg and that's why they are here.
People want to see those on the pedestals come crashing down.
They live vicariously the plastic screens and everyone says they want the happy ending but they pay to see lives crumble so we can all go back home to our nihilistic hell holes and stay there.
Apathy consumes because it is easier to pretend humans are just numbers, that unborn babies are mere collections of souls and the people being raped and murdered in fucking genocides are useless figures...uneducated people useless and not worth anything in the grand scheme.
I hate arrogance so much.
I hate my own the most.
I hate the scum I represent as ministry.
Religion is a sham.
Jesus is the life, the truth and only way that works...everything else is utter bullshit coined to help us ignore the suffering around us and so we can wash our hands of responsibility.
The more I read about how Jesus LOVES, the more I realize I am a selfish brat who doesn't care about anything besides laying here in this trash heap of my things. I say I want to change the world but I'm too much of a coward.
Martyrs, the ones who willingly embrace being beaten to death, starving themselves for others, giving their lives to the Truth (not those mislabeled dogmatic fools that are nothing more than blind idiots who blow themselves up because they are neurotically depressed and too scared to face the fact that life is complex, not simply black and white).
I don't want to suffer.
I complain, I'm frightened, I'm scared out of my mind and I can't help but swear because of how outraged and terrified I am.
I don't want comfort either.
I want to stew in this rage and let it overtake me.
I want to be the little child who lays down and cries while beating the floor because of how absolutely terrified I am.
I'm terrified of being right.
That Jesus is the Messiah who loves us all and my 'job' is to love people, build relationships and tell them that they are infinitely loved.
Being loved scares me, it's easier to be feared and hated than loved...love covers over a multitude of sins and means you can be redeemed from the cesspool you live in...it means you can't live in sin and pretend that life is black and white and a game.
I want to live in games, virtual settings, roleplays...these pretend worlds because I hate my reality so much...who I am.
I hate knowing the Father loves me so much Jesus died for my sins, rose again and loves me infinitely and holds nothing against me. I hate knowing it because I am created to love Him and love all of you and everyone else.
I'm supposed to love the religious, the conservative, the liberals, my ex-girlfriends, my friends, my family...and I would rather just put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger than talk to most of these people because communicating is ripping my heart apart...trying to live in eternity and this world at the same time is ripping me to pieces and I can't function at all.
I cry and it doesn't help.
I ask for help.
I pray.
God I pray.
I'm more alone now than I was before.
The more I pray the more I feel the void.
Where did You go?
I had idols I don't want.
Just rip me out of reality.
Take me home, I want to go HOME please.
If You are more than a delusion, the makings of a sick mind...just help me push past this or take me away.
I can't breath.
It hurts so bad...please.
"The Bell Jar" - Showbread
To be common place would be unique,
But we’re so obscure we’re incoherent,
Like tongueless vigilantes choking just to make you choke,
Rattling, rattling,
No nails to hold ideas in place, no expression on your face.
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis, she’s brittle she is broken.
Static comes through synthesizers, megaphones and drum machines,
Beauty sounds like smashed guitars,
And several references to feedback,
Rattling, rattling,
No surgery to save your life,
No promise everything’s all right.
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis she’s brittle and she is broken.
Languages must be organic because like flies they fall and die,
Music now sleeps with Latin and Aramaic,
It’s over, it’s over,
No more waiting for something to live for,
It’s over, it’s over,
Everything is dying and we want something more.
But we’re so obscure we’re incoherent,
Like tongueless vigilantes choking just to make you choke,
Rattling, rattling,
No nails to hold ideas in place, no expression on your face.
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis, she’s brittle she is broken.
Static comes through synthesizers, megaphones and drum machines,
Beauty sounds like smashed guitars,
And several references to feedback,
Rattling, rattling,
No surgery to save your life,
No promise everything’s all right.
Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis she’s brittle and she is broken.
Languages must be organic because like flies they fall and die,
Music now sleeps with Latin and Aramaic,
It’s over, it’s over,
No more waiting for something to live for,
It’s over, it’s over,
Everything is dying and we want something more.
Despair
I'm so frustrated I want to punch myself in the face.
I have no idea what I'm doing or where I am going.
Money...money...money...
Why does everything come back to that?
Whatever happened to faith?
Am I just prone to making irrational stupid decisions until I die?
What is being an adult?
I don't get this.
I feel like I'm going to have a breakdown or a panic attack.
I don't want these strings, I hate money.
I want to just be cast away from this place.
But I just can't cut everything away because...
God.
What?
I just don't know.
Every time I make plans and try to do the right thing, stuff explodes.
I'm so freaking sick of it.
I try not to make plans and things fail.
I make plan and things fail.
Does it make sense why I'm frustrated?
I can't function, I suck at this stuff.
I wish I would stop hurting long enough so I could think straight.
I wish my stupid heart would stop functioning long enough for my brain to sever it with cold and accurate logic.
I want to hate everything but I can't because my heart bleeds with emotion and empathy for everyone around me.
I'm so weak, I'm so needy, just a child
just a child in need of your love.
And here we come
to this line again
and baby I don't know what to tell you.
Just pray things hold together
long enough,
just long enough
so we don't die
and in the meantime
maybe,
just maybe baby
we'll live long enough to see the sunrise.
I have no idea what I'm doing or where I am going.
Money...money...money...
Why does everything come back to that?
Whatever happened to faith?
Am I just prone to making irrational stupid decisions until I die?
What is being an adult?
I don't get this.
I feel like I'm going to have a breakdown or a panic attack.
I don't want these strings, I hate money.
I want to just be cast away from this place.
But I just can't cut everything away because...
God.
What?
I just don't know.
Every time I make plans and try to do the right thing, stuff explodes.
I'm so freaking sick of it.
I try not to make plans and things fail.
I make plan and things fail.
Does it make sense why I'm frustrated?
I can't function, I suck at this stuff.
I wish I would stop hurting long enough so I could think straight.
I wish my stupid heart would stop functioning long enough for my brain to sever it with cold and accurate logic.
I want to hate everything but I can't because my heart bleeds with emotion and empathy for everyone around me.
I'm so weak, I'm so needy, just a child
just a child in need of your love.
And here we come
to this line again
and baby I don't know what to tell you.
Just pray things hold together
long enough,
just long enough
so we don't die
and in the meantime
maybe,
just maybe baby
we'll live long enough to see the sunrise.
Time Come, Time Gone, Time Alone
Time coming and going
speeding across the line
fleeting and flowing
with the sighs and groans
of people living and dying
as you sit here aching and crying
and I'm here waiting,
just waiting for the sun to come
and waiting for the moon to set
across the sky
and I sit here waiting
to share tea
with my bitter loneliness
and self imposed isolation
as I run from myself
and into the arms
of myself,
my love.
speeding across the line
fleeting and flowing
with the sighs and groans
of people living and dying
as you sit here aching and crying
and I'm here waiting,
just waiting for the sun to come
and waiting for the moon to set
across the sky
and I sit here waiting
to share tea
with my bitter loneliness
and self imposed isolation
as I run from myself
and into the arms
of myself,
my love.
"Dragon Attack" - Queen
John Deacon is one of my biggest bass influences and this little known Queen song is one of my favorite bass lines ever. Just raw, aggressive and feels like it is going to blow you away.
Quote of the Day - Part Two:
"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" - T.S. Elliot
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.
LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question … 10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go 35
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress 65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— 95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while, 100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . . 110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use, 115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old … I grow old … 120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me. 125
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.
LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question … 10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go 35
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress 65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— 95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while, 100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . . 110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use, 115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old … I grow old … 120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me. 125
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
Quote of the Day:
"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."
-T.S. Elliot
-T.S. Elliot
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Quote of the Day, the Fourth:
"I imagine that right now, you're feeling a bit like Alice. Hmm? Tumbling down the rabbit hole? "
-Morpheus, 'The Matrix'
-Morpheus, 'The Matrix'
A Post Marked Letter
Someday I hope I can bring this,
someday I hope to give,
someday I hope to return
and have it not miss.
I want to give you
these things,
I want you to have
so much,
but it's not my place.
Everyone wants security,
the trappings of divine love
and the freedom from being guilty
and how I can give it
I know not.
I just know my words are weak
and my rhymes are fleeting
at this very late hour.
But there is sincerity
lining my hope.
I feel the sunrise
and know the morning
will be rushing all to soon
and what of the night?
There is a sacredness,
this divine covering
oft times missed at this hour,
witching and bewitching it is.
someday I hope to give,
someday I hope to return
and have it not miss.
I want to give you
these things,
I want you to have
so much,
but it's not my place.
Everyone wants security,
the trappings of divine love
and the freedom from being guilty
and how I can give it
I know not.
I just know my words are weak
and my rhymes are fleeting
at this very late hour.
But there is sincerity
lining my hope.
I feel the sunrise
and know the morning
will be rushing all to soon
and what of the night?
There is a sacredness,
this divine covering
oft times missed at this hour,
witching and bewitching it is.
Quote of the Day - Part Three:
"I grew up hearing everyone tell me 'God loves you'. I would say big deal, God loves everybody. That don't make me special! That just proves that God ain't got no taste. And, I don't think He does. Thank God! Because He ...takes the junk of our lives and makes the most beautiful art."
-Rich Mullins
-Rich Mullins
Quote of the Day - Part Two:
"I am deeply distressed by what I only can call in our Christian culture the idolatry of the Scriptures. For many Christians, the Bible is not a pointer to God but God himself... God cannot be confined within the covers of a leather-bound book. I develop a nasty rash around people who speak as if mere scrutiny of its pages will reveal precisely how God thinks and precisely what God wants."
-Brennan Manning
-Brennan Manning
Quote of the Day:
"The Bible is not a book for the faint of heart--it is a book full of all the greed and glory and violence and tenderness and sex and betrayal that befits mankind. It is not the collection of pretty little anecdotes mouthed by pious little church mice--it does not so much nibble at our shoe leather as it cuts to the heart and splits the marrow from the bone. It does not give us answers fitted to our small-minded questions, but truth that goes beyond what we even know to ask."
-Rich Mullins
-Rich Mullins
It feels like every time I get my mind off of...and not thinking of...
Everything comes rushing back at once.
As much as there can be with so little.
I think I just need to find a way to keep my mind engaged and not worrying about the future, just taking care of everything I can as I can.
It's as silly as infatuation is...
Being lost in me as I'm lost in...
I can't give a concise disposition because of..
So much and so little at the same time.
Aggravating inconsistencies as I wander about wondering and being curious about what is to come, in this and all there is to see.
Everything comes rushing back at once.
As much as there can be with so little.
I think I just need to find a way to keep my mind engaged and not worrying about the future, just taking care of everything I can as I can.
It's as silly as infatuation is...
Being lost in me as I'm lost in...
I can't give a concise disposition because of..
So much and so little at the same time.
Aggravating inconsistencies as I wander about wondering and being curious about what is to come, in this and all there is to see.
Charlie Brown...drawn Manga style? o_O
Quite an interesting take on one my most beloved cartoon strips:
http://shuroki.com/2007/07/22/charlie-brown-manga-style/
Note: I just realized that the post for those drawings was done on my twenty-first birthday...strange.
http://shuroki.com/2007/07/22/charlie-brown-manga-style/
Note: I just realized that the post for those drawings was done on my twenty-first birthday...strange.
Monday, October 26, 2009
It's sad what depresses me and gets me into ruts and to how seriously I contemplate death and the nature of suicide.
This is all just so unnaturally silly and pointless.
I'm not a nihilist, life has meaning but everything people are getting so worked up about is meaningless...
Ecclesiastes is about the only wisdom book in the Bible I bother to constantly reread but the basic message is to love and fear God, do work you love and enjoy marriage.
That is it.
Love God, love people and stay busy.
Nothing else, no other expectations and God that is nice.
Because right now I just don't care.
I'm so sick of everything else and don't want to bother contemplating the absolute absurdity of what this all doesn't mean anymore.
I don't even want hugs or to be seen.
I want enough peace and quiet from the feelings of unexpressed internal agony long, freedom long enough so I can just finish why I'm here so I can lay down and go to sleep.
I want to go Home.
I can't stand being an outcast, this alien with no homeland...I'm a stranger who is only getting more lost and disconnected as the days go on.
Only a handful know of the Lover I speak of, only a few know what it is like to look up and realize you ARE standing in the hand of eternity and that hand loves you and died for you, died and lived again to fix the mistakes you made.
I need to know someone who feels it as deep, feels the agony of sin and know it's been washed away. I need someone to help me that loves Jesus more than they could ever hope to love me...I just need a reminder that despite the drowning feelings...that everything is going to be okay...I'm not the only one insane in this overwhelmingly dull and sane world.
I'm so sick of the hate, of the pain and all this useless trash.
This is all just so unnaturally silly and pointless.
I'm not a nihilist, life has meaning but everything people are getting so worked up about is meaningless...
Ecclesiastes is about the only wisdom book in the Bible I bother to constantly reread but the basic message is to love and fear God, do work you love and enjoy marriage.
That is it.
Love God, love people and stay busy.
Nothing else, no other expectations and God that is nice.
Because right now I just don't care.
I'm so sick of everything else and don't want to bother contemplating the absolute absurdity of what this all doesn't mean anymore.
I don't even want hugs or to be seen.
I want enough peace and quiet from the feelings of unexpressed internal agony long, freedom long enough so I can just finish why I'm here so I can lay down and go to sleep.
I want to go Home.
I can't stand being an outcast, this alien with no homeland...I'm a stranger who is only getting more lost and disconnected as the days go on.
Only a handful know of the Lover I speak of, only a few know what it is like to look up and realize you ARE standing in the hand of eternity and that hand loves you and died for you, died and lived again to fix the mistakes you made.
I need to know someone who feels it as deep, feels the agony of sin and know it's been washed away. I need someone to help me that loves Jesus more than they could ever hope to love me...I just need a reminder that despite the drowning feelings...that everything is going to be okay...I'm not the only one insane in this overwhelmingly dull and sane world.
I'm so sick of the hate, of the pain and all this useless trash.
Not Enough Time, Not for Now, Not for Later
Yeah I'm drunk on fear
and intoxicated with pain.
Trembling hands shaking
from the pending collapse.
I'm addicted to me
hoping for a collage of hope
while smirking the smile of cynicism.
I'm closing the curtain
the one that was torn
and take another handful of pills
as my vision fades back out
and the tremors return
and I return to the subject
that is always about me.
I got a note in the post
saying my old idols
they are getting jealous
and missing me,
wanting to know when
they can come back over for tea.
The golden calf of adultery,
the alcoholism I haven't developed yet
and my prejudicial hate all there
sending out love letters.
I don't sleep anymore
I gave it up
because of life
starting to call me out
on my religious bluffs
and the slight of hand
about my frailness
when it comes to this illness.
I hear the abrasive guitar
and the screams it matches in my soul.
I wanted mainstream success
to be a poet with the ages
and now I don't care.
Let it burn,
let this all burn down
to the sounds of nihilistic glee
that comes with the Knowledge of all knowledge.
I can't breath with the weight
pressing on my lungs
forcing the air out
as a prayer
and I want to be free
so sick of me
so sick of me
as I cry mercy
and for love
oh my Love.
What if I could reach
deep inside
and feel your heartbeat tonight?
Would you feel me,
could you hear my doubt
and feel the fear inside of me?
Would it strike you as funny
to know I'm more terrified
of happiness
than I ever was of this illness?
Burn my lips
and cut my tongue,
just take these words from me
and purify this mind.
Music can't tame the savage beast
barely held in check
right behind my breast bone
as I scream the profane
while clutching to promises
of a blessing
and God,
it is now or never.
The finite is calling out the infinite.
Crush me like an insect
or heal me.
Restore my heart
or blast me into nothingness.
I can't speak of a preference
because I don't care.
I'm too numb to care,
I'm too number to bother
because to me
death is just preferable
because I'll never speak sin,
I'll never break away from You
and never run again.
You see the coward I am
and the fool I've been.
How drunk off of fear
and how intoxicated I am by sin.
My soul is stretched,
too little over too much area
and Lover rescue me.
Save me or end me
it's all the same
from down here
in this hole
below the ground.
and intoxicated with pain.
Trembling hands shaking
from the pending collapse.
I'm addicted to me
hoping for a collage of hope
while smirking the smile of cynicism.
I'm closing the curtain
the one that was torn
and take another handful of pills
as my vision fades back out
and the tremors return
and I return to the subject
that is always about me.
I got a note in the post
saying my old idols
they are getting jealous
and missing me,
wanting to know when
they can come back over for tea.
The golden calf of adultery,
the alcoholism I haven't developed yet
and my prejudicial hate all there
sending out love letters.
I don't sleep anymore
I gave it up
because of life
starting to call me out
on my religious bluffs
and the slight of hand
about my frailness
when it comes to this illness.
I hear the abrasive guitar
and the screams it matches in my soul.
I wanted mainstream success
to be a poet with the ages
and now I don't care.
Let it burn,
let this all burn down
to the sounds of nihilistic glee
that comes with the Knowledge of all knowledge.
I can't breath with the weight
pressing on my lungs
forcing the air out
as a prayer
and I want to be free
so sick of me
so sick of me
as I cry mercy
and for love
oh my Love.
What if I could reach
deep inside
and feel your heartbeat tonight?
Would you feel me,
could you hear my doubt
and feel the fear inside of me?
Would it strike you as funny
to know I'm more terrified
of happiness
than I ever was of this illness?
Burn my lips
and cut my tongue,
just take these words from me
and purify this mind.
Music can't tame the savage beast
barely held in check
right behind my breast bone
as I scream the profane
while clutching to promises
of a blessing
and God,
it is now or never.
The finite is calling out the infinite.
Crush me like an insect
or heal me.
Restore my heart
or blast me into nothingness.
I can't speak of a preference
because I don't care.
I'm too numb to care,
I'm too number to bother
because to me
death is just preferable
because I'll never speak sin,
I'll never break away from You
and never run again.
You see the coward I am
and the fool I've been.
How drunk off of fear
and how intoxicated I am by sin.
My soul is stretched,
too little over too much area
and Lover rescue me.
Save me or end me
it's all the same
from down here
in this hole
below the ground.
"Truth is an arrow and the gate is narrow that it passes through,
He unleashed His power at an unknown hour that no one knew.
How long can I listen to the lies of prejudice?
How long can I stay drunk on fear out in the wilderness?
Can I cast it aside, all this loyalty and this pride?
Will I ever learn that there'll be no peace, that the war won't cease
Until He returns?"
He unleashed His power at an unknown hour that no one knew.
How long can I listen to the lies of prejudice?
How long can I stay drunk on fear out in the wilderness?
Can I cast it aside, all this loyalty and this pride?
Will I ever learn that there'll be no peace, that the war won't cease
Until He returns?"
A Night
It was a beautiful concert.
So much soul, so much spirit, so much power.
As of right now it's being rebroadcast for a second time and supposed to be for the next couple of days:
http://www.youtube.com/U2official
If you can watch this and still not like U2:
1.You are not trying very hard.
2.I think you lack anything that resembles taste.
3.I love you all the same but really now, beauty people! It's beauty!
I can't sleep.
As silly as the right thing may be some days...it's the right thing.
God knows I'm going to miss getting a morning wake up call from my beloved and beautiful Muse, to deliver news and inspire me to new challenges.
I don't know the future and doubt I want to...I don't know where I'm going just that I am going. I'll expire when I do and will fight to do the right thing until my last breath.
I'm trying to figure out who I really am...what it means to be an adult...what it means to be a real man...what responsibility I should have...what it is I'm going to throw myself into.
I only know I really do not know me as well as I thought I did.
God I want to burn with a passion to love and serve, I want to fall madly in love with who You are and with loving people. I'm sick to death of my selfishness and putting myself ahead of actual love.
Breath words of life into my mouth, stretch my heart and mind to the breaking part and just consume me with flames of love.
Show me the reality, the hope and the love that can be found.
If there are words I can speak, may the lovely Muse hear and take heart that hope prevails through the night.
So much soul, so much spirit, so much power.
As of right now it's being rebroadcast for a second time and supposed to be for the next couple of days:
http://www.youtube.com/U2official
If you can watch this and still not like U2:
1.You are not trying very hard.
2.I think you lack anything that resembles taste.
3.I love you all the same but really now, beauty people! It's beauty!
I can't sleep.
As silly as the right thing may be some days...it's the right thing.
God knows I'm going to miss getting a morning wake up call from my beloved and beautiful Muse, to deliver news and inspire me to new challenges.
I don't know the future and doubt I want to...I don't know where I'm going just that I am going. I'll expire when I do and will fight to do the right thing until my last breath.
I'm trying to figure out who I really am...what it means to be an adult...what it means to be a real man...what responsibility I should have...what it is I'm going to throw myself into.
I only know I really do not know me as well as I thought I did.
God I want to burn with a passion to love and serve, I want to fall madly in love with who You are and with loving people. I'm sick to death of my selfishness and putting myself ahead of actual love.
Breath words of life into my mouth, stretch my heart and mind to the breaking part and just consume me with flames of love.
Show me the reality, the hope and the love that can be found.
If there are words I can speak, may the lovely Muse hear and take heart that hope prevails through the night.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Ah reincarnation...has absolutely nothing to do with my spiritual or religious beliefs but for fun sake here are some things I wish I was either born as or if I get screwed over and sent back I will like to be:
-A rock.
-A grain of sand.
-A teaspoon.
-A droplet of rain.
-A hydrogen atom.
-A philosophical tangent.
Or my personal favorite:
-A Cherry Blossom.
-A rock.
-A grain of sand.
-A teaspoon.
-A droplet of rain.
-A hydrogen atom.
-A philosophical tangent.
Or my personal favorite:
-A Cherry Blossom.
Quote of the Day:
“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one”
-C.S. Lewis
-C.S. Lewis
Nice Night
I made brownies for my best friend's birthday and took aforementioned brownies and hung out with him and his wife.
Me and James have been playing through this new game called Borderlands that he got for his birthday. It's an interesting attempt to breath new life into the incredibly tired realm of first person shooters by injecting RPG elements into it (think Fallout 3 except an actual attempt at giving slightly less linear game play with more weapons then you can shake a stick at). I could use more RPG elements and more story...but games these days are tailored fit to a generation that responds to short attention spans that only like shiny things, explosions and shiny explosions.
But it was a fun night.
We ate a good number of the brownies and consumed and unhealthy amount of caffeine.
Sadly we never got around to recording ourselves while we played the game because some absurd stuff occurred.
Many classic lines involving accusations of me drugging the brownies, large amounts of conversation questioning the very nature of reality and James and myself laughing like mad anytime a sufficient enough explosions happened or one of us did something awesome.
It was nice.
Reminded me of the few things I actually enjoy in this area.
But...I can't wait to move.
I'll miss the few friends I'm still on really good terms with...but I feel more exciting things are yet to come.
I've been reading through "Jesus Loves You This I Know" which was coauthored by Craig Gross, founder of xxxchurch.com ministries, and God this book is so exciting!
It reminds me why I was called to ministry...to go to the gutter and tell people Jesus loves them regardless of their past or present...we aren't called to be perfect before we are loved...instead we are called to be transformed by His love and power.
I want to get into the gutter God has called me to...I want to find this area...with or without friends, past or present.
I'm willing to go...it's just following.
Does this make sense to anyone else?
I'm so sick of being told what we can't do...who we can't go to...I want to find where I'm being called and go. Regardless of my health...I want to be poured out and to empty myself so I can be filled with Love, true everylasting Love.
If I can give myself, surrender myself to this flames and let all this spiritual fat burn away and all this unneeded baggage...I want to go. I want to love everyone, show the 'worst sinner' that they are loved unconditonally by the same Jesus who saved and loves me.
It's going to hut so bad, I'm going to loose everything on this planet...but I don't care anymore. If I can't have Jesus, if I can't go where I'm called then to Hell with all of this anyways. I'm alive now and may be dead soon anyways...what do other things matter? Possessions? Money? Health? Relationships?
God will provide what I need if I just go...but where is it?
Am I on the right path by getting this job, saving up money and checking out schools in California? Should I still keep applying for a ministry internship in Vegas with xxxchurch? Where do I go from here Father? Show me! Please!
I'm so sick of me and I'm so in need of You!
Please...show me the door and I'll go crashing through it with a freaking bat if I have to...I just need to know.
Please.
Me and James have been playing through this new game called Borderlands that he got for his birthday. It's an interesting attempt to breath new life into the incredibly tired realm of first person shooters by injecting RPG elements into it (think Fallout 3 except an actual attempt at giving slightly less linear game play with more weapons then you can shake a stick at). I could use more RPG elements and more story...but games these days are tailored fit to a generation that responds to short attention spans that only like shiny things, explosions and shiny explosions.
But it was a fun night.
We ate a good number of the brownies and consumed and unhealthy amount of caffeine.
Sadly we never got around to recording ourselves while we played the game because some absurd stuff occurred.
Many classic lines involving accusations of me drugging the brownies, large amounts of conversation questioning the very nature of reality and James and myself laughing like mad anytime a sufficient enough explosions happened or one of us did something awesome.
It was nice.
Reminded me of the few things I actually enjoy in this area.
But...I can't wait to move.
I'll miss the few friends I'm still on really good terms with...but I feel more exciting things are yet to come.
I've been reading through "Jesus Loves You This I Know" which was coauthored by Craig Gross, founder of xxxchurch.com ministries, and God this book is so exciting!
It reminds me why I was called to ministry...to go to the gutter and tell people Jesus loves them regardless of their past or present...we aren't called to be perfect before we are loved...instead we are called to be transformed by His love and power.
I want to get into the gutter God has called me to...I want to find this area...with or without friends, past or present.
I'm willing to go...it's just following.
Does this make sense to anyone else?
I'm so sick of being told what we can't do...who we can't go to...I want to find where I'm being called and go. Regardless of my health...I want to be poured out and to empty myself so I can be filled with Love, true everylasting Love.
If I can give myself, surrender myself to this flames and let all this spiritual fat burn away and all this unneeded baggage...I want to go. I want to love everyone, show the 'worst sinner' that they are loved unconditonally by the same Jesus who saved and loves me.
It's going to hut so bad, I'm going to loose everything on this planet...but I don't care anymore. If I can't have Jesus, if I can't go where I'm called then to Hell with all of this anyways. I'm alive now and may be dead soon anyways...what do other things matter? Possessions? Money? Health? Relationships?
God will provide what I need if I just go...but where is it?
Am I on the right path by getting this job, saving up money and checking out schools in California? Should I still keep applying for a ministry internship in Vegas with xxxchurch? Where do I go from here Father? Show me! Please!
I'm so sick of me and I'm so in need of You!
Please...show me the door and I'll go crashing through it with a freaking bat if I have to...I just need to know.
Please.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Pain.
Hooray.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll learn whatever lesson it is I am supposed to from this...shall we say...proverbial Hell and I will wake up tomorrow a new man!
Or maybe as a rutabaga plant!
I would take being a rutabaga over me anyday.
At least rutabagas are not known to offend people, hurt their feelings, be rude to them, be in any real substantial relationship and in general have a great non-nerve and non-feeling time!
Hooray!
Hooray.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll learn whatever lesson it is I am supposed to from this...shall we say...proverbial Hell and I will wake up tomorrow a new man!
Or maybe as a rutabaga plant!
I would take being a rutabaga over me anyday.
At least rutabagas are not known to offend people, hurt their feelings, be rude to them, be in any real substantial relationship and in general have a great non-nerve and non-feeling time!
Hooray!
Silent Moonlight
I don't know when we'll see
I don't know when we can meet again
I don't know when the music will start
just so we can slow dance once more.
I just know the loneliness of silence
ringing in a house
that never could be a home
as I wait for insight
that might never come.
Sparks of light flicker through the air
as moonlight dies as clouds pass by
and there is no song
no music to free
nothing to remind of why we came to be.
I'm not asking for blood
and I'm not giving my angst
I just want to know
if all this worth it.
If the pain, the tears
and dull ache
are setting you free.
I need to know
if my sacrifice
will give you clearance
and freedom to fly.
I bite my tongue,
not to hold back venom
but to set you free
to give you wings
and blessings from above
as I ache to understand
just where
just how
if any of this matters.
With or without any
any of these cares
or matters or dreams
I bid you well
and a good night.
I retire to my cave
the dwelling I made
and know not what to hope for.
A return of status quo
or for redemption.
I falter in breath
and in sight.
All that I know,
is I wish simply to go Home.
I don't know when we can meet again
I don't know when the music will start
just so we can slow dance once more.
I just know the loneliness of silence
ringing in a house
that never could be a home
as I wait for insight
that might never come.
Sparks of light flicker through the air
as moonlight dies as clouds pass by
and there is no song
no music to free
nothing to remind of why we came to be.
I'm not asking for blood
and I'm not giving my angst
I just want to know
if all this worth it.
If the pain, the tears
and dull ache
are setting you free.
I need to know
if my sacrifice
will give you clearance
and freedom to fly.
I bite my tongue,
not to hold back venom
but to set you free
to give you wings
and blessings from above
as I ache to understand
just where
just how
if any of this matters.
With or without any
any of these cares
or matters or dreams
I bid you well
and a good night.
I retire to my cave
the dwelling I made
and know not what to hope for.
A return of status quo
or for redemption.
I falter in breath
and in sight.
All that I know,
is I wish simply to go Home.
Quote of the Day:
"I realized that it was not by wisdom that poets write their poetry, but by a kind of nature or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets; for these also say many beautiful things, but do not know anything of what they say."
-Socrates
-Socrates
Friday, October 23, 2009
Quote of the Day, the Fourth:
“Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.”
-C.S. Lewis
-C.S. Lewis
Quote of the Day - Part Three:
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”
-C.S. Lewis
I know that is the truth...but if the price of love...of friendships...of making family is nothing but this bitter sting of pain and isolation...I wish I never would have had it to begin with. I wish I never breathed the air of this same terra firma as the notion of pain and love...I wish the best possible of worlds truly did exist and it was nowhere near this Hell.
That is my current struggle.
I want to close my heart, my mind, my soul and just let it rot...or just end it all.
I don't like who I am or what I have become...so bitter and jaded over doing the right thing. I don't think...in fact I know it isn't just you...or one or two other things...it's a life that has been spiraling downward for years trying to serve myself.
I want peace, I want grace...I want...
Yeah, I want that too.
But I just can't live with it, I can't function without it.
It's angst, it's been drawn and cut off, it's been reminded that to live is to hurt...and hurting and pain are how we define our existence...UNTIL we find something bigger than ourselves.
And I have that in You Love...it's just the rest of your damn creation that is driving me mad right now. Your daughters and sons...someday...I hope we can sit down and have a chat about this. I can have my cat and dog there...and just be held by you while I cry about the pain and have You take it away...drawing the venom and pain from my soul as give me grace, give me the eternal love that You are.
-C.S. Lewis
I know that is the truth...but if the price of love...of friendships...of making family is nothing but this bitter sting of pain and isolation...I wish I never would have had it to begin with. I wish I never breathed the air of this same terra firma as the notion of pain and love...I wish the best possible of worlds truly did exist and it was nowhere near this Hell.
That is my current struggle.
I want to close my heart, my mind, my soul and just let it rot...or just end it all.
I don't like who I am or what I have become...so bitter and jaded over doing the right thing. I don't think...in fact I know it isn't just you...or one or two other things...it's a life that has been spiraling downward for years trying to serve myself.
I want peace, I want grace...I want...
Yeah, I want that too.
But I just can't live with it, I can't function without it.
It's angst, it's been drawn and cut off, it's been reminded that to live is to hurt...and hurting and pain are how we define our existence...UNTIL we find something bigger than ourselves.
And I have that in You Love...it's just the rest of your damn creation that is driving me mad right now. Your daughters and sons...someday...I hope we can sit down and have a chat about this. I can have my cat and dog there...and just be held by you while I cry about the pain and have You take it away...drawing the venom and pain from my soul as give me grace, give me the eternal love that You are.
"The thought it comes to my mind, to somehow intervene
But it could bring me trouble, and what can I do anyway?
It's hard to be effective when it happens so often
To see a life unraveling, through drawn venetian blinds
I'm sickened by compassion, I'm stifled by my limitations
Anesthetic apathy, come take the pain away."
But it could bring me trouble, and what can I do anyway?
It's hard to be effective when it happens so often
To see a life unraveling, through drawn venetian blinds
I'm sickened by compassion, I'm stifled by my limitations
Anesthetic apathy, come take the pain away."
Quote of the Day - Part Two:
"Sometimes you say things in songs even if there's a small chance of them being true. And sometimes you say things that have nothing to do with the truth of what you want to say and sometimes you say things that everyone knows to be true. Then again, at the same time, you're thinking that the only truth on earth is that there is no truth on it. Whatever you are saying, you're saying in a ricky-tick way. There's never time to reflect. You stitched and pressed and packed and drove, is what you did."
-Bob Dylan
-Bob Dylan
Blood Stained Eyes
I need to be stronger than this,
what are tears but fallen water?
Expressionless water wasted
dripping at an unpredictable rate
as I wonder
and I wonder why
not knowing how
but feeling
and hoping
that the love we share
is as eternal as Your light
and infinite as your peace.
I'm struggling to find footing
trying to just breath in this world
You know I need You
more now, more than ever
and I'm loosing my step
forgetting my breath
like the way Home.
Make me a way
give me the strength
It's late and I'm already crying
needing only what You can give me.
what are tears but fallen water?
Expressionless water wasted
dripping at an unpredictable rate
as I wonder
and I wonder why
not knowing how
but feeling
and hoping
that the love we share
is as eternal as Your light
and infinite as your peace.
I'm struggling to find footing
trying to just breath in this world
You know I need You
more now, more than ever
and I'm loosing my step
forgetting my breath
like the way Home.
Make me a way
give me the strength
It's late and I'm already crying
needing only what You can give me.
Can't sleep...problems keeping me up.
Listening to Queen's '86 Wembley concert while reading "Jesus Loves You This I Know".
Music:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdGcX-s99Rg&feature=PlayList&p=14B841A896833C5C&index=0
Book:
http://www.amazon.com/Jesus-Loves-You-This-I-Know/dp/0801013291/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1256287048&sr=8-1
I started a couple of hours ago and I'm almost done with the book...really good read, important stuff about getting back to the roots of Jesus' love in doing ministry. God I want to do this so bad...
Listening to Queen's '86 Wembley concert while reading "Jesus Loves You This I Know".
Music:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdGcX-s99Rg&feature=PlayList&p=14B841A896833C5C&index=0
Book:
http://www.amazon.com/Jesus-Loves-You-This-I-Know/dp/0801013291/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1256287048&sr=8-1
I started a couple of hours ago and I'm almost done with the book...really good read, important stuff about getting back to the roots of Jesus' love in doing ministry. God I want to do this so bad...
Quote of the Day:
"In our sleep, pain which cannot beget
falls drop by drop upon the heart
until, in our own despair, against our will,
comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."
-Aeschylus
falls drop by drop upon the heart
until, in our own despair, against our will,
comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."
-Aeschylus
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Interesting Article
About John James, the original lead singer of The Newsboys and about his struggle with addictions and faith:
http://www.crossrhythms.co.uk/articles/print.php?Article_ID=25790
http://www.crossrhythms.co.uk/articles/print.php?Article_ID=25790
Top of the Tower
I'm sitting at the window looking into the night, the dark that my eyes can't break. I'm sipping cocoa and listening to a little music of hope.
I am flabbergasted at the sheer amount of drama that can fit into one day.
Why do I make stupid decisions?
Base of self?
None of this stuff makes me genuinely happy anyways. I'm best at compromising and pretending everything is okay just so I don't have to make major decisions.
Lord, what the hell am I doing?
Where am I going?
What do You want from me?
I guess I don't know you as half as well as I thought I did.
I feel...things but so many of them have no real meaning, right?
Superficial thoughts and an overly dependent personality do not make any sort of friendship worth mentioning.
I don't like the drama in my life.
I don't like the pain.
I suck at dealing with strife in a healthy way.
I want to run, I want to hide, I just want to flee from everything I know and go somewhere to start new.
So much I hate Matthew Pike and I want him to die.
I can't stand who he is, what he stands for, what he does, what he doesn't do...he isn't a villain but he is not a hero. He is tragically human, with all the same flaws as you...except he doesn't see him as you do.
It would be so easy to just end it, right now.
I could do it and be lost to the void in a matter of minutes, if not just seconds.
But that misses the point I think.
I either have to face the fact that life isn't just this...one second, one moment...but here we are. A mix of good and bad.
I just wish I could find rest and an easy way out of this place.
I want to be a coward and take the easy way out...I don't care to hear about how God loves me enough to let me suffer...just making it through today is hard enough.
I suppose a key tip off was never being asked simple things...like how I was.
Tip offs like...
The mind, the soul and body are all stressed.
So many words, so many thoughts.
Divide and ridiculous in nature.
If I could change something...it would just being able to let go, to be able to let my mind shut down and relax.
I can't sleep, I am not able to at night because of every little thought about every possibility.
Even if I could pour myself into a life saving project...my apathy wants to rule. I want to make this all about me...so I don't have to have responsibility.
But that is just the night.
I'm alive.
I was born with purpose.
I keep running and running and still You love me.
Thank you.
Help me, pull me out of this zone of comfort and this need to be about me. I want to forget about everything except You for a good while...teach me, love me please.
I am flabbergasted at the sheer amount of drama that can fit into one day.
Why do I make stupid decisions?
Base of self?
None of this stuff makes me genuinely happy anyways. I'm best at compromising and pretending everything is okay just so I don't have to make major decisions.
Lord, what the hell am I doing?
Where am I going?
What do You want from me?
I guess I don't know you as half as well as I thought I did.
I feel...things but so many of them have no real meaning, right?
Superficial thoughts and an overly dependent personality do not make any sort of friendship worth mentioning.
I don't like the drama in my life.
I don't like the pain.
I suck at dealing with strife in a healthy way.
I want to run, I want to hide, I just want to flee from everything I know and go somewhere to start new.
So much I hate Matthew Pike and I want him to die.
I can't stand who he is, what he stands for, what he does, what he doesn't do...he isn't a villain but he is not a hero. He is tragically human, with all the same flaws as you...except he doesn't see him as you do.
It would be so easy to just end it, right now.
I could do it and be lost to the void in a matter of minutes, if not just seconds.
But that misses the point I think.
I either have to face the fact that life isn't just this...one second, one moment...but here we are. A mix of good and bad.
I just wish I could find rest and an easy way out of this place.
I want to be a coward and take the easy way out...I don't care to hear about how God loves me enough to let me suffer...just making it through today is hard enough.
I suppose a key tip off was never being asked simple things...like how I was.
Tip offs like...
The mind, the soul and body are all stressed.
So many words, so many thoughts.
Divide and ridiculous in nature.
If I could change something...it would just being able to let go, to be able to let my mind shut down and relax.
I can't sleep, I am not able to at night because of every little thought about every possibility.
Even if I could pour myself into a life saving project...my apathy wants to rule. I want to make this all about me...so I don't have to have responsibility.
But that is just the night.
I'm alive.
I was born with purpose.
I keep running and running and still You love me.
Thank you.
Help me, pull me out of this zone of comfort and this need to be about me. I want to forget about everything except You for a good while...teach me, love me please.
*sigh*
What is it with me and wanting to rush in and help people the second it seems they are in any trouble whatsoever?
I'm just...going to fade away on this.
I'm not wanted or needed...I'm just not sure which of those two are the more important qualifiers.
I would say in case of an emergency...you know how to get me...but that is precisely the problem I think. I am just a 'go to' guy when things get rough or go bad...not that I don't mind...seriously. Ministry is a thankless task...but I hate thinking of my friends as just being 'clientele' or something.
Like...when I move...I was thinking of having a small going away party...but it's just going to be like graduation night back in high school...or university...me sitting in my room smiling all sort of sad because I can't get ahold of anyone and no included me in any of the plans.
I'm just...going to fade away on this.
I'm not wanted or needed...I'm just not sure which of those two are the more important qualifiers.
I would say in case of an emergency...you know how to get me...but that is precisely the problem I think. I am just a 'go to' guy when things get rough or go bad...not that I don't mind...seriously. Ministry is a thankless task...but I hate thinking of my friends as just being 'clientele' or something.
Like...when I move...I was thinking of having a small going away party...but it's just going to be like graduation night back in high school...or university...me sitting in my room smiling all sort of sad because I can't get ahold of anyone and no included me in any of the plans.
Fact:
Storing loose change in a glass Sobe bottle for several years will in fact make the coins smell like the former drink, albeit with a particular metal scent worked in.
I now have coins with the smell of Liz Blizz Pina Colada.
No, they do not taste like Liz Blizz Pina Colada flavored drink.
I now have coins with the smell of Liz Blizz Pina Colada.
No, they do not taste like Liz Blizz Pina Colada flavored drink.
I know it is history...but still...why does almost every Biblical story have to end in death?
For once...why can't the happy ending happen while still here on earth?
Help my weak faith grow...I've read Genesis a half dozen times and only You know how many more times I'll read it before I die...but I just need hope.
Please?
Help me to trust that this is the best way...that You know what you are doing and that You can give peace and love...even in this chaotic mess. Increase my weak faith, my faith which flees at the moment of pain.
Help me surrender to what is true, what is good, what is pure...not my false concepts over what is to become of me...but the plan you wrote at the beginning of time.
For once...why can't the happy ending happen while still here on earth?
Help my weak faith grow...I've read Genesis a half dozen times and only You know how many more times I'll read it before I die...but I just need hope.
Please?
Help me to trust that this is the best way...that You know what you are doing and that You can give peace and love...even in this chaotic mess. Increase my weak faith, my faith which flees at the moment of pain.
Help me surrender to what is true, what is good, what is pure...not my false concepts over what is to become of me...but the plan you wrote at the beginning of time.
Quote of the Day - Part Three:
"It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes."
-Douglas Adams
-Douglas Adams
Playful Intent
I'm like a child
who has lost his way.
Not knowing my left
from my right.
Just longing to hear something,
to hear something good
to know what I did wrong
and baby what I did right.
If anything.
I can't cry
it's much too late
much too late to drink
and I can't miss the beat
or bear the brunt
of repeated failures
of knowing.
Knowing nothing
is knowing enough for you
but never knowing
is enough to drive me mad
because after all
I'm just a child,
picking at the sores
knowing it's hurting
and not knowing why
just knowing I see blood
and feel a little hurt
and hoping it works out.
who has lost his way.
Not knowing my left
from my right.
Just longing to hear something,
to hear something good
to know what I did wrong
and baby what I did right.
If anything.
I can't cry
it's much too late
much too late to drink
and I can't miss the beat
or bear the brunt
of repeated failures
of knowing.
Knowing nothing
is knowing enough for you
but never knowing
is enough to drive me mad
because after all
I'm just a child,
picking at the sores
knowing it's hurting
and not knowing why
just knowing I see blood
and feel a little hurt
and hoping it works out.
Band...please? Anyone? Someone?
So my new band name idea:
Finding Nineveh
Progressive electronic metal with preferably a backing orchestra.
Anyone?
Someone?
Finding Nineveh
Progressive electronic metal with preferably a backing orchestra.
Anyone?
Someone?
Love in the Eye of the Beholder
Bright lit regards
as I see the light unfolds
and God my soul burns
lifted on this melody
as I sing,
Lord sing unto thee.
Take this song,
this cracked voice
and shaken hands
as I hold here.
Braving my humanity
as I long to be
just to be
there again.
Was this love ever real?
Was it ever pure?
Did it exist beyond this sick mind?
We have the ecstasy of the soul
and the intense passion
of being lost in and within You
time and time again.
I feel Your touch,
your smell intoxicates me
and I'm drunk off of the heat
and the fervor of Your Word.
I'm so sick for my Love,
so sick to feel love
hurting so bad to hear
just hear again
just why
just how
all this came to be.
I want to run
I want to hide
just remain in shame
ashamed I never could be
never could love You
or shower You with the same grace
You gave to me.
I hunger
I thirst
I ache
so bad for You,
so dearly for You.
My Love, my love
I can't live without You
without Your words
without the Word
of hope
of life
of regards to peace.
Oh Lover
come once again,
return me to Your side
for I left in fear
and shame of the person I've been.
I need You tonight,
I need you today
every waking hour of life
be mine
and let me be thine.
as I see the light unfolds
and God my soul burns
lifted on this melody
as I sing,
Lord sing unto thee.
Take this song,
this cracked voice
and shaken hands
as I hold here.
Braving my humanity
as I long to be
just to be
there again.
Was this love ever real?
Was it ever pure?
Did it exist beyond this sick mind?
We have the ecstasy of the soul
and the intense passion
of being lost in and within You
time and time again.
I feel Your touch,
your smell intoxicates me
and I'm drunk off of the heat
and the fervor of Your Word.
I'm so sick for my Love,
so sick to feel love
hurting so bad to hear
just hear again
just why
just how
all this came to be.
I want to run
I want to hide
just remain in shame
ashamed I never could be
never could love You
or shower You with the same grace
You gave to me.
I hunger
I thirst
I ache
so bad for You,
so dearly for You.
My Love, my love
I can't live without You
without Your words
without the Word
of hope
of life
of regards to peace.
Oh Lover
come once again,
return me to Your side
for I left in fear
and shame of the person I've been.
I need You tonight,
I need you today
every waking hour of life
be mine
and let me be thine.
Incandescently Lit
Freedom.
It's like a song bird
flying free
just before being claimed
being brought down low
purchased by gravity
and the time.
Love.
Colors burst from gray
but even so
nothing can stop age
as all fades
bitterly cold and jaded
as not even human hope
can last beyond tonight.
It's like a song bird
flying free
just before being claimed
being brought down low
purchased by gravity
and the time.
Love.
Colors burst from gray
but even so
nothing can stop age
as all fades
bitterly cold and jaded
as not even human hope
can last beyond tonight.
The Light in Her Eyes
See it sparkle,
see the Spirit dance.
Joy beyond joy,
life beyond life.
The dancing of time
making a fool of us all
as we run to the end
not sure of ourselves
and the monochromatic
method of which we sleep.
Here the music start,
a kick of a drum
and a blast of a harmonic.
The bitter taste of loosing
mixed with the love of loving
and knowing
and most days never caring
about where we're going;
hand in hand on love
we move again.
It's time making a fool of us,
time dancing across our lives
as our beauty fades outside
and the spire splutters inside
and the colors fade
as they bleed out
making this monochromatic picture.
Night time dancing
as we sing our song
hoping for hope
as the sand slips away
out of this broken jar
and everything we dreamed just fades
and dear God we pray
just for enough grace
to make it through today.
see the Spirit dance.
Joy beyond joy,
life beyond life.
The dancing of time
making a fool of us all
as we run to the end
not sure of ourselves
and the monochromatic
method of which we sleep.
Here the music start,
a kick of a drum
and a blast of a harmonic.
The bitter taste of loosing
mixed with the love of loving
and knowing
and most days never caring
about where we're going;
hand in hand on love
we move again.
It's time making a fool of us,
time dancing across our lives
as our beauty fades outside
and the spire splutters inside
and the colors fade
as they bleed out
making this monochromatic picture.
Night time dancing
as we sing our song
hoping for hope
as the sand slips away
out of this broken jar
and everything we dreamed just fades
and dear God we pray
just for enough grace
to make it through today.
Quote of the Day - Part Two:
"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But, then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer, to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love, to be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy, therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness — I hope you're getting this down."
-Woody Allen
-Woody Allen
About a three hour nap...surely that is enough.
Fortified with medication and oatmeal I shall brave the exercise bike yet again.
I just have to keep telling myself this is all physical training for 'Z'-Day and that should be enough motivation to keep me going for a while.
Breath deep, move forward, never look back and never stop moving.
Fortified with medication and oatmeal I shall brave the exercise bike yet again.
I just have to keep telling myself this is all physical training for 'Z'-Day and that should be enough motivation to keep me going for a while.
Breath deep, move forward, never look back and never stop moving.
Quote of the Day:
"The most difficult lie I have ever contended with is this: Life is a story about me."
-Donald Miller
-Donald Miller
Excerpt from Donald Miller's "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years"
Chapter Twenty Nine - "The Reason Why God Hasn't Fixed You Yet"
I'm convinced the most fantastical moment in story, the point when all the tension is finally relived, doesn't actually happen in real life. And I mean that seriously. I've thought about it fifty different ways, but I can't figure out how a human life actually climaxes so that everything on the other side of a particular moment is made to be okay. It happens all the time in movies and books, but it won't happen to me - and I'm sorry to say, it won't happen to you either.
Maybe the reason we like stories so much is because they deliver wish fulfillment. Maybe we sit in the dark and shovel sugar into our mouths because in so many stories everything is made right, and we secretly long for that ourselves.
It was touching when Steve, Ben and I realized what the climax to our movie was going to be. We've been writing toward it for more than a year, and we were practically in tears when we finally wrote that part of the script. It was a scene in which two characters met in confrontation, and one asked the other for forgiveness. We were back at Jim's house in Tennessee, sitting around his table. I was saying the words my character needed to say, Ben was adding dialogue from the other character, and Steve was typing it as fast as he could. Neither Ben nor I were looking at each other, because if we did we'd have cried - we'd have over character who didn't exist resolving a tension that never really happened. There's just something in the DNA of a human that responds to the idea of an event, a moment in which the upheaval we've all been working around is finally laid to rest.
But regardless how passionate the utopianists are, I simply don't believe utopia is going to happen. I don't believe we are going to be rescued. I don't believe an act of man will make things on earth perfect, and I don't believe God will intervene before I die, or for that matter before you die. I believe, instead, we will go on longing for a resolution that will not come, not within life as we know it, anyway.
If you think about it, an enormous amount of damage is created by the myth of utopia. There is an intrinsic feeling in nearly every person that your life could be perfect if you only had such-and0such a car or such-and-such a spouse or such-and-such a job. We believe we will be made whole by our accomplishments, our possessions, or our social status. It's written in the fabric of our DNA that life used to be beautiful and now it isn't, and if only this and if only that, it would be beautiful again.
I saw a story on '60 Minutes' a few months ago about the happiest country in the world. It was Denmark. A study done by a British university ranked the happiest countries, and America was far down the list, but Denmark was on the top. Morley Safer explored why. Ruling out financial status, physical health, and even social freedom, he landed on a single characteristic of the Danes that allowed them such contentment. The reason Danes are happy was this: they had low expectations.
I'm not making that up. There is something in Denmark's culture that allows them to look at life realistically. They don't expect products to fulfill them or relationships to end all their problems. In fact, in the final interview of the segment, Safer was sitting across from a Danish man and remarked to him that when Americans find out the happiest place on earth is Denmark, they are going to want to move there. Without missing a beat, the Danish man looked at Morley and said "Well, honestly, they will probably be let down."
I don't mean to insinuate there are no minor climaxes to human stories. There are. A kid can try to make the football team and in a moment of climax see his name on the coach's list. A girl can want to get married and feel euphoric when the man of her dreams slides a ring on her finger. But these aren't the stories I'm talking about. These are substories. When the kid makes the football team, he is going to find out that playing football is hard, and he's going to find himself in the middle of yet another story. And the girl is going to wake up three months into her marriage and realize she is, in fact, still lonely, and so many of her issues haven't gone away. And if both of these people aren't careful, they're going to get depressed because they thought the climax to their substory was actually a climax to the human story, and it wasn't. The human story goes on.
Growing up in church, we were taught that Jesus was the answer to all of our problems. We were taught that there was a circle-shaped hole in our heart and that we had tried to fill it with square pegs of sex, drugs, and rock and roll; but only the circle peg of Jesus could fill our hole. I became a Christian based, in part, on this promise, but the hole never really went away. To be sure, I liked Jesus, and I still follow him, but the idea that Jesus will make everything better is a lie. It's basically biblical theology translated into the language of infomercials. The truth is, the apostles never really promise Jesis is going to make everything better here on earth. Can you imagine an infomercial with Paul, testifying to the amazing product of Jesus, saying that he once had power and authority, and since he tired Jesus he's been moved from prison to prison, beaten and routinely bitten by snakes? I don't think many people would be buying that product. Peter couldn't do any better He was crucified upside down, by some reports. Stephen was stoned outside the city gates. John, supposedly, was boiled in oil. It's hard to imagine how a religion steeped in so much pain and sacrifice turned into a promise for earthly euphoria. I think Jesus can make things better, but I don't think he is going to make things perfect. Not here, and not now.
What I love about the true gospel of Jesus, though, is that it offers hope. Paul has hope our souls will be made complete. It will happen in heaven, where there will be a wedding and a feast. I wonder if that's why so many happy stories end in weddings and feasts. Paul says Jesus is the hope that will not disappoint. I find that comforting. That helps me get through the day to be honest. It even makes me content somehow. Maybe that's what Paul meant when he said he'd learned the secret of contentment.
After the girl I dated had been in Switzerland for a while, and I continued to see a counselor, I realized that for years I'd though of love as something that would complete me, make all my troubles go away. I worshiped at the altar of romantic completion. And it had cost me, plenty of times. And it had cost most of the girls I'd dated too, because I wanted them to be something they couldn't be. It's too much pressure to put on a person. I think that's why so many couples fight, because they want their partners to validate them and affirm them, and if they don't get that, they feel as though they're going to die. And so they lash out. But it's a terrible thing to wake up and realize the person you just finished crucifying didn't turn out to be Jesus.
I was interviewing my friend Susan Isaacs after her book 'Angry Conversations with God' came out. We were in front of a live audience, and I was reading questions to her off o index cards submitted by the audience. Because so much of her book talks about relational needs, relational fulfillment and unfulfillment, one of the questions asked was whether she believed there was one true love for every person.
Susan essentially said no. And she said that with her husband sitting right there in the audience. She said her and her husband believed they were a cherished prize for each other, and they would probably drive any other people mad. But then she said something I thought was wise. She said she had married a guy, and he was just a guy. He wasn't going to make all her problems go away, because he was just a guy. And that freed her to really love him as a guy, not as an ultimate problem solver. And because her husband believed she was just a girl, he was free to really love her too. Neither needed the other to make everything okay. They were simply content to have good company through life's conflicts. I thought that was beautiful.
There is a lot of money and power to be had in convincing people we can create an Eden here on earth. Cults are formed when leaders make such absurd promises. Products are sold convincing people that they are missing out on the perfect life. And political groups tend to scare people by convincing them we are losing Eden, or inspire people by telling them we can rebuild what God had destroyed. We all get worked into a frenzy over things will not happen until Jesus returns. The truth is, we can make things a little better or a little worse, but utopia doesn't hang in the balance of our vote or of what products we buy.
All of this may sound depressing to you, but I don't mean it to be. I've lived some good stories now, and those stories have improved the quality of my life. But I've also let go of the idea things will ever be made perfect, at least while I am walking around on this planet. I've let go of the idea that this life has a climax. I'm trying to be more Danish, I guess. And the thing is, it works. When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you'd be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you'd be surprised how much you like spending time with God.
Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won't be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast.
I'm convinced the most fantastical moment in story, the point when all the tension is finally relived, doesn't actually happen in real life. And I mean that seriously. I've thought about it fifty different ways, but I can't figure out how a human life actually climaxes so that everything on the other side of a particular moment is made to be okay. It happens all the time in movies and books, but it won't happen to me - and I'm sorry to say, it won't happen to you either.
Maybe the reason we like stories so much is because they deliver wish fulfillment. Maybe we sit in the dark and shovel sugar into our mouths because in so many stories everything is made right, and we secretly long for that ourselves.
It was touching when Steve, Ben and I realized what the climax to our movie was going to be. We've been writing toward it for more than a year, and we were practically in tears when we finally wrote that part of the script. It was a scene in which two characters met in confrontation, and one asked the other for forgiveness. We were back at Jim's house in Tennessee, sitting around his table. I was saying the words my character needed to say, Ben was adding dialogue from the other character, and Steve was typing it as fast as he could. Neither Ben nor I were looking at each other, because if we did we'd have cried - we'd have over character who didn't exist resolving a tension that never really happened. There's just something in the DNA of a human that responds to the idea of an event, a moment in which the upheaval we've all been working around is finally laid to rest.
But regardless how passionate the utopianists are, I simply don't believe utopia is going to happen. I don't believe we are going to be rescued. I don't believe an act of man will make things on earth perfect, and I don't believe God will intervene before I die, or for that matter before you die. I believe, instead, we will go on longing for a resolution that will not come, not within life as we know it, anyway.
If you think about it, an enormous amount of damage is created by the myth of utopia. There is an intrinsic feeling in nearly every person that your life could be perfect if you only had such-and0such a car or such-and-such a spouse or such-and-such a job. We believe we will be made whole by our accomplishments, our possessions, or our social status. It's written in the fabric of our DNA that life used to be beautiful and now it isn't, and if only this and if only that, it would be beautiful again.
I saw a story on '60 Minutes' a few months ago about the happiest country in the world. It was Denmark. A study done by a British university ranked the happiest countries, and America was far down the list, but Denmark was on the top. Morley Safer explored why. Ruling out financial status, physical health, and even social freedom, he landed on a single characteristic of the Danes that allowed them such contentment. The reason Danes are happy was this: they had low expectations.
I'm not making that up. There is something in Denmark's culture that allows them to look at life realistically. They don't expect products to fulfill them or relationships to end all their problems. In fact, in the final interview of the segment, Safer was sitting across from a Danish man and remarked to him that when Americans find out the happiest place on earth is Denmark, they are going to want to move there. Without missing a beat, the Danish man looked at Morley and said "Well, honestly, they will probably be let down."
I don't mean to insinuate there are no minor climaxes to human stories. There are. A kid can try to make the football team and in a moment of climax see his name on the coach's list. A girl can want to get married and feel euphoric when the man of her dreams slides a ring on her finger. But these aren't the stories I'm talking about. These are substories. When the kid makes the football team, he is going to find out that playing football is hard, and he's going to find himself in the middle of yet another story. And the girl is going to wake up three months into her marriage and realize she is, in fact, still lonely, and so many of her issues haven't gone away. And if both of these people aren't careful, they're going to get depressed because they thought the climax to their substory was actually a climax to the human story, and it wasn't. The human story goes on.
Growing up in church, we were taught that Jesus was the answer to all of our problems. We were taught that there was a circle-shaped hole in our heart and that we had tried to fill it with square pegs of sex, drugs, and rock and roll; but only the circle peg of Jesus could fill our hole. I became a Christian based, in part, on this promise, but the hole never really went away. To be sure, I liked Jesus, and I still follow him, but the idea that Jesus will make everything better is a lie. It's basically biblical theology translated into the language of infomercials. The truth is, the apostles never really promise Jesis is going to make everything better here on earth. Can you imagine an infomercial with Paul, testifying to the amazing product of Jesus, saying that he once had power and authority, and since he tired Jesus he's been moved from prison to prison, beaten and routinely bitten by snakes? I don't think many people would be buying that product. Peter couldn't do any better He was crucified upside down, by some reports. Stephen was stoned outside the city gates. John, supposedly, was boiled in oil. It's hard to imagine how a religion steeped in so much pain and sacrifice turned into a promise for earthly euphoria. I think Jesus can make things better, but I don't think he is going to make things perfect. Not here, and not now.
What I love about the true gospel of Jesus, though, is that it offers hope. Paul has hope our souls will be made complete. It will happen in heaven, where there will be a wedding and a feast. I wonder if that's why so many happy stories end in weddings and feasts. Paul says Jesus is the hope that will not disappoint. I find that comforting. That helps me get through the day to be honest. It even makes me content somehow. Maybe that's what Paul meant when he said he'd learned the secret of contentment.
After the girl I dated had been in Switzerland for a while, and I continued to see a counselor, I realized that for years I'd though of love as something that would complete me, make all my troubles go away. I worshiped at the altar of romantic completion. And it had cost me, plenty of times. And it had cost most of the girls I'd dated too, because I wanted them to be something they couldn't be. It's too much pressure to put on a person. I think that's why so many couples fight, because they want their partners to validate them and affirm them, and if they don't get that, they feel as though they're going to die. And so they lash out. But it's a terrible thing to wake up and realize the person you just finished crucifying didn't turn out to be Jesus.
I was interviewing my friend Susan Isaacs after her book 'Angry Conversations with God' came out. We were in front of a live audience, and I was reading questions to her off o index cards submitted by the audience. Because so much of her book talks about relational needs, relational fulfillment and unfulfillment, one of the questions asked was whether she believed there was one true love for every person.
Susan essentially said no. And she said that with her husband sitting right there in the audience. She said her and her husband believed they were a cherished prize for each other, and they would probably drive any other people mad. But then she said something I thought was wise. She said she had married a guy, and he was just a guy. He wasn't going to make all her problems go away, because he was just a guy. And that freed her to really love him as a guy, not as an ultimate problem solver. And because her husband believed she was just a girl, he was free to really love her too. Neither needed the other to make everything okay. They were simply content to have good company through life's conflicts. I thought that was beautiful.
There is a lot of money and power to be had in convincing people we can create an Eden here on earth. Cults are formed when leaders make such absurd promises. Products are sold convincing people that they are missing out on the perfect life. And political groups tend to scare people by convincing them we are losing Eden, or inspire people by telling them we can rebuild what God had destroyed. We all get worked into a frenzy over things will not happen until Jesus returns. The truth is, we can make things a little better or a little worse, but utopia doesn't hang in the balance of our vote or of what products we buy.
All of this may sound depressing to you, but I don't mean it to be. I've lived some good stories now, and those stories have improved the quality of my life. But I've also let go of the idea things will ever be made perfect, at least while I am walking around on this planet. I've let go of the idea that this life has a climax. I'm trying to be more Danish, I guess. And the thing is, it works. When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you'd be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you'd be surprised how much you like spending time with God.
Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won't be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast.
A Rose of Light and of Love
I need something beautiful just so I can save it,
save it and return myself
some of the dignity I sold
when I gave up and gave in
to the lie that I was nothing more
than just a puppet to my sin
and a slave to my every whim.
I'm ready to believe,
to feel something real
and to know
to simply know
that I can have a reprieve
and You died that I might live
and return this pain
with a white rose of peace
and a red rose of love.
Goodnight,
goodbye
take care my love
and know
you never walked alone.
save it and return myself
some of the dignity I sold
when I gave up and gave in
to the lie that I was nothing more
than just a puppet to my sin
and a slave to my every whim.
I'm ready to believe,
to feel something real
and to know
to simply know
that I can have a reprieve
and You died that I might live
and return this pain
with a white rose of peace
and a red rose of love.
Goodnight,
goodbye
take care my love
and know
you never walked alone.
"I Never Wanted" - As I Lay Dying
I never wanted
And I never cared before
Now take it all back
This is a new day
How I long to regress
To the days before I took upon myself
The obsessions of this world
A day of innocence equating beauty
For tomorrow may fall
And today is already gone
Now take it back
This is a new day
I've grown tired of chasing
Convinced I was in need
And now the years I've spent
Only a slave to this
Tomorrow may fall
And today is already gone
I will no longer adore
These things that will never satisfy me
Now take it back
This is a new day
I have seen my world change
And then go back to where it came
In this vicious circle
We are all brought back to life
Only to die again
But without these barren obsessions
I am simply free
And I never cared before
Now take it all back
This is a new day
How I long to regress
To the days before I took upon myself
The obsessions of this world
A day of innocence equating beauty
For tomorrow may fall
And today is already gone
Now take it back
This is a new day
I've grown tired of chasing
Convinced I was in need
And now the years I've spent
Only a slave to this
Tomorrow may fall
And today is already gone
I will no longer adore
These things that will never satisfy me
Now take it back
This is a new day
I have seen my world change
And then go back to where it came
In this vicious circle
We are all brought back to life
Only to die again
But without these barren obsessions
I am simply free
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Prayer for Salvation
You win some.
You loose some.
And other times your mind runs ahead of itself and into tangents that were pointless to begin with.
Clarity.
Focus.
A deep breath.
The darkness of the soul thrives on the chaos embodied in confusion.
It is hate which seeks control.
It is rage at the injustice.
It is the Dark Ones in the shadows which seek to reach and latch onto my soul.
My anger is no resolve for holiness.
It merely opens up the floodgates to the evil around me.
The sonic explosion of my scream as I turn against you and beat my fists into your mind, into your soul and rip apart your emotional immaturity is nothing but the source of the villainy inside of me.
I talk an excellent game of spiritual hypocrisy as my soul instantly runs to rage at the second I loose my footing.
I seek my own will, I see my own path, I want the world, I want the mindless self indulgence and as soon as I receive what I beg for...I explode in rage. I sell my soul at a cheap discount price to this world's religious whores for useless change.
I hate all of you.
This world will burn with the fuel of my senseless and depraved ego.
And why?
So I might make a mark?
Rage, seething and useless rage.
Rage that I let consume my heart, like the cancerous lust that forms the base of my mindless addictions. None of you reading this will understand, can understand the processes of my mental faculties because it would require you to listen beyond what is comfortable.
I want to destroy the world with my rage.
But my desire is to burn this tower of Babel I built with my hands.
This profane and perverse altar of Baal that I am willing to cut my wrists and bleed over as a sacrifice.
I want to eradicate this altar to Moloch on which I sacrificed my childhood innocence and what was stolen from me by the bastard demons that I see mocking me from the shadows.
Rage.
Furious rage.
An exhaustive collection of self entitled redundancy that I cannot possibly explain because you will never bother to try and look to see things through my eyes.
I want to throw up, I want to be sick just so I can get this poison out of my system. I want a cure that will let me never hurt inside, that will deliver me from every emotional insecurity and make me invincible when it comes from this ever so false sweet words that were nothing more than lies contrived to fool me into believing in the fragile and useless human heart.
I want my rage, I want my wrath to have no end but ultimately I am just as useless as I am weak.
I lay in wasted pain as I throw up the poison in my lungs and I cry for help.
I cry because I do not know why I am angry.
Do I have a right to spit venom because I wear my heart on my sleeve?
Do I have right to wage war because I cannot control my mind?
Because I refuse to control my mind?
Do I have fair access to violence to use in destroying the evil in me?
Love is the only cure for this useless disease of hate that consume my body, my mind, my soul, my entire being...every breath I take is corrupted, every thought is weak and I lay down and simply cry.
I am lost without You.
Everything else is useless.
I wasted breath on useless things.
I cried out to You and need to be rescued.
I want to be cut out of this reality and returned to You.
I want to feel my spirit leave while it can, I no longer know why I have fought.
I just know that You are You and all I want.
Rip my desires away, tear away this torn soul that lays in tatters. I do not want to desire this anymore...I not longer want to feel the need for any intimacy outside of Yours. I don't want to be touched, I no longer want to feel...I just want to feel the full power of Your wrath against the sins I refuse to repent of.
Destroy me.
Smite my existence into nothing.
Bring me into the lower levels of Hell so I will no longer be.
Break apart every molecule, split every cell and divide every corrupted atom that composes my existence.
Destroy me before I spread the plague of my hate.
And rebuild me.
Create me anew.
Make me good, make me pure like only You can.
I can do nothing expect pray for solace, pray Your love endures my senseless pride.
I am lost about what to do.
My plans are nothing.
I am nothing less than a broken tool in a war against life.
Convert me.
Beat me from a sword into a plow-sheer.
I've seen everyone around as being part of some utterly useless game.
I've seen and felt emotions that were ultimately a part of nothing more than the false reality my mind created for me to live in. As soon as reality hits the cracks appear and blossom into this ugly red thing that is my blood pouring steady from the black lined veins.
I see the spider in my heart, the unholiness that seeks my will as its own.
I can't pray for You to forgive me Father because I knew, I knew going in the addiction and the hate I feel when things do not work. I know how useless and ultimately pointless every relationship, every connection is.
They leave or more often than not simply die.
It's the root of my insecurity, I want humans to last and to be God for me. I want to be treated like a child and feel my hand being pulled when all I have left is this soul, this beaten soul covered in mud.
Can You still clean me up?
Do You even want me still?
Why, why did You die for worthless scum like me?
Why did You create this disgusting race of humanity?
We're not even worth the dignity of being stepped on like a cockroach.
We have achieved nothing and will only succeed in killing ourselves faster by the second.
How are we made in Your image, when all we do is eradicate?
Are we just made to die?
Don't leave things as they are.
Don't let things remain.
Break me, destroy me, rip me asunder and make me a tool for You.
Make me something that will heal instead of destroy.
My life is worthless.
Save me, heal me or eradicate me before I take the task into my own hands.
I cannot be content with going halfway.
You know my heart and how much hurt I suffer from trusting and giving it away to things that never had a right to hold it. All I wanted was a perfect cherry blossom in a world that only burns and eats at the beauty in it.
I want to vent my venom and rage by ripping the demons apart with my bleeding hands. I want to fulfill my need for senseless hate by creating the next generation of broken.
Everything is spinning, falling and twisting out of control.
Jesus, Jesus, I know I'm not alone.
I know I have never been alone.
I know others will stand with me but it still hurts.
I feel isolated.
Like my soul is being eaten by cancer.
Please do not leave me here.
Give me my task,
send me now.
Do you not see the angst,
the anguish shredding my soul to pieces?
I want to love but I want to leave this Hell!
I hate it here,
I can't stand the feelings of isolation,
knowing I'm abandonment
and knowing these feelings will only worsen.
Jesus, this world is so fucked up.
All the innocents raped and murdered
and somehow,
somehow this is Your perfect will?
Hold me Jesus.
I only have You.
I will only have You.
I wasn't made to hug others
so please hold me.
Take me in Your arms,
give me a holy kiss
and purify me of me.
I want to give You me,
give You my soul all over again.
My body, my mind, my heart
and my everything.
Make this new day new.
Like only you can do.
Abba, Father, Lover
take this soul.
Forever and forevermore.
You loose some.
And other times your mind runs ahead of itself and into tangents that were pointless to begin with.
Clarity.
Focus.
A deep breath.
The darkness of the soul thrives on the chaos embodied in confusion.
It is hate which seeks control.
It is rage at the injustice.
It is the Dark Ones in the shadows which seek to reach and latch onto my soul.
My anger is no resolve for holiness.
It merely opens up the floodgates to the evil around me.
The sonic explosion of my scream as I turn against you and beat my fists into your mind, into your soul and rip apart your emotional immaturity is nothing but the source of the villainy inside of me.
I talk an excellent game of spiritual hypocrisy as my soul instantly runs to rage at the second I loose my footing.
I seek my own will, I see my own path, I want the world, I want the mindless self indulgence and as soon as I receive what I beg for...I explode in rage. I sell my soul at a cheap discount price to this world's religious whores for useless change.
I hate all of you.
This world will burn with the fuel of my senseless and depraved ego.
And why?
So I might make a mark?
Rage, seething and useless rage.
Rage that I let consume my heart, like the cancerous lust that forms the base of my mindless addictions. None of you reading this will understand, can understand the processes of my mental faculties because it would require you to listen beyond what is comfortable.
I want to destroy the world with my rage.
But my desire is to burn this tower of Babel I built with my hands.
This profane and perverse altar of Baal that I am willing to cut my wrists and bleed over as a sacrifice.
I want to eradicate this altar to Moloch on which I sacrificed my childhood innocence and what was stolen from me by the bastard demons that I see mocking me from the shadows.
Rage.
Furious rage.
An exhaustive collection of self entitled redundancy that I cannot possibly explain because you will never bother to try and look to see things through my eyes.
I want to throw up, I want to be sick just so I can get this poison out of my system. I want a cure that will let me never hurt inside, that will deliver me from every emotional insecurity and make me invincible when it comes from this ever so false sweet words that were nothing more than lies contrived to fool me into believing in the fragile and useless human heart.
I want my rage, I want my wrath to have no end but ultimately I am just as useless as I am weak.
I lay in wasted pain as I throw up the poison in my lungs and I cry for help.
I cry because I do not know why I am angry.
Do I have a right to spit venom because I wear my heart on my sleeve?
Do I have right to wage war because I cannot control my mind?
Because I refuse to control my mind?
Do I have fair access to violence to use in destroying the evil in me?
Love is the only cure for this useless disease of hate that consume my body, my mind, my soul, my entire being...every breath I take is corrupted, every thought is weak and I lay down and simply cry.
I am lost without You.
Everything else is useless.
I wasted breath on useless things.
I cried out to You and need to be rescued.
I want to be cut out of this reality and returned to You.
I want to feel my spirit leave while it can, I no longer know why I have fought.
I just know that You are You and all I want.
Rip my desires away, tear away this torn soul that lays in tatters. I do not want to desire this anymore...I not longer want to feel the need for any intimacy outside of Yours. I don't want to be touched, I no longer want to feel...I just want to feel the full power of Your wrath against the sins I refuse to repent of.
Destroy me.
Smite my existence into nothing.
Bring me into the lower levels of Hell so I will no longer be.
Break apart every molecule, split every cell and divide every corrupted atom that composes my existence.
Destroy me before I spread the plague of my hate.
And rebuild me.
Create me anew.
Make me good, make me pure like only You can.
I can do nothing expect pray for solace, pray Your love endures my senseless pride.
I am lost about what to do.
My plans are nothing.
I am nothing less than a broken tool in a war against life.
Convert me.
Beat me from a sword into a plow-sheer.
I've seen everyone around as being part of some utterly useless game.
I've seen and felt emotions that were ultimately a part of nothing more than the false reality my mind created for me to live in. As soon as reality hits the cracks appear and blossom into this ugly red thing that is my blood pouring steady from the black lined veins.
I see the spider in my heart, the unholiness that seeks my will as its own.
I can't pray for You to forgive me Father because I knew, I knew going in the addiction and the hate I feel when things do not work. I know how useless and ultimately pointless every relationship, every connection is.
They leave or more often than not simply die.
It's the root of my insecurity, I want humans to last and to be God for me. I want to be treated like a child and feel my hand being pulled when all I have left is this soul, this beaten soul covered in mud.
Can You still clean me up?
Do You even want me still?
Why, why did You die for worthless scum like me?
Why did You create this disgusting race of humanity?
We're not even worth the dignity of being stepped on like a cockroach.
We have achieved nothing and will only succeed in killing ourselves faster by the second.
How are we made in Your image, when all we do is eradicate?
Are we just made to die?
Don't leave things as they are.
Don't let things remain.
Break me, destroy me, rip me asunder and make me a tool for You.
Make me something that will heal instead of destroy.
My life is worthless.
Save me, heal me or eradicate me before I take the task into my own hands.
I cannot be content with going halfway.
You know my heart and how much hurt I suffer from trusting and giving it away to things that never had a right to hold it. All I wanted was a perfect cherry blossom in a world that only burns and eats at the beauty in it.
I want to vent my venom and rage by ripping the demons apart with my bleeding hands. I want to fulfill my need for senseless hate by creating the next generation of broken.
Everything is spinning, falling and twisting out of control.
Jesus, Jesus, I know I'm not alone.
I know I have never been alone.
I know others will stand with me but it still hurts.
I feel isolated.
Like my soul is being eaten by cancer.
Please do not leave me here.
Give me my task,
send me now.
Do you not see the angst,
the anguish shredding my soul to pieces?
I want to love but I want to leave this Hell!
I hate it here,
I can't stand the feelings of isolation,
knowing I'm abandonment
and knowing these feelings will only worsen.
Jesus, this world is so fucked up.
All the innocents raped and murdered
and somehow,
somehow this is Your perfect will?
Hold me Jesus.
I only have You.
I will only have You.
I wasn't made to hug others
so please hold me.
Take me in Your arms,
give me a holy kiss
and purify me of me.
I want to give You me,
give You my soul all over again.
My body, my mind, my heart
and my everything.
Make this new day new.
Like only you can do.
Abba, Father, Lover
take this soul.
Forever and forevermore.
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