Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
It's impossible for me to pick a favorite U2 album...but Achtung Baby is helping me quite a bit right now...
"Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come to raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one but we're not the same
We hurt each other, then we do it again"
"Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come to raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one but we're not the same
We hurt each other, then we do it again"
Honestly
I am lying when I say I'm okay.
That I am feeling great and that the pain isn't so bad today.
But I think it's a lie that will save my life.
One of the more bizarre, yet practical, things C.S. Lewis wrote about in 'Mere Christianity' is how if we have trouble loving someone then we should pretend that we do. We should make ourselves act like we love them and eventually out mind and heart will follow suite.
For better or for worse I'm trying to apply that to my situation...I'm going to keep pushing for all the medical treatment I can get, continual exercising, doing everything I can to eat better and maybe even figure out how to sleep at night.
However I will be saying I feel better.
That I have hope about the future and I'm excited about the non particular future plans of which I have.
It's lie too but it's an EXCITING lie.
How often do I get to say that?
I'm a dirty, rotten, sinful liar and I just giggled about it.
Screw you logic! I'm in pain but I'm feeling better! I am to the point I'm going to stab the next doctor that refuses to give me pain medication...but I'll stab them with a smile!
Yes!
Fibromyalgia my *inset appropriate profanity laced euphemism*!
If this is the WORST then I laugh.
Yes at you disease.
If this is the worse it can get then I am sad my body can't punish me more.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Have I mentioned that I don't sleep much these days?
#_#
That I am feeling great and that the pain isn't so bad today.
But I think it's a lie that will save my life.
One of the more bizarre, yet practical, things C.S. Lewis wrote about in 'Mere Christianity' is how if we have trouble loving someone then we should pretend that we do. We should make ourselves act like we love them and eventually out mind and heart will follow suite.
For better or for worse I'm trying to apply that to my situation...I'm going to keep pushing for all the medical treatment I can get, continual exercising, doing everything I can to eat better and maybe even figure out how to sleep at night.
However I will be saying I feel better.
That I have hope about the future and I'm excited about the non particular future plans of which I have.
It's lie too but it's an EXCITING lie.
How often do I get to say that?
I'm a dirty, rotten, sinful liar and I just giggled about it.
Screw you logic! I'm in pain but I'm feeling better! I am to the point I'm going to stab the next doctor that refuses to give me pain medication...but I'll stab them with a smile!
Yes!
Fibromyalgia my *inset appropriate profanity laced euphemism*!
If this is the WORST then I laugh.
Yes at you disease.
If this is the worse it can get then I am sad my body can't punish me more.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Have I mentioned that I don't sleep much these days?
#_#
Drought of Living Death
It's funny who you will hear from when you least expect it.
Jesus, what the Hell am I doing messing with this stuff? I'm not playing with fire...I'm sitting in gasoline and trying to strike the match.
Are you still a God of peace? Purpose? Understanding? The Infinite One who is not bound by the limitations of flesh and broken spirit?
Speak to me please.
What am I supposed to do now? What step do I take to get out of this disgusting tar?
I'm tired of feeling my heart slip out of my chest and getting caught by the rapid changing world...I can't take much more of this jerking back and forth.
Helter skelter, from the top to the bottom back to the top again...I keep falling down this path and I hate it.
I hate it.
God I hate this flesh and wish it would burn away. How can I accept failure when it burns like a cancer I want to cut out? When it sinks further into my heart twisting me into this ugly caricature that looks so much like you?
I hate this heart, I hate this mind and I hate this body.
What You made was made good but now it's ugly.
Just like you.
"That thing inside my ribs is like a pile of reptiles,
Pressed on splintered vertebrae, so cold, so claustrophobic,
Echoing in hollow fruit are orders sent with love to you,
To serve a will more shallow still than paramecium
I’ll bet your hands are beautiful,
I’m sure your head is beautiful,
But the world is ugly,
The world is ugly and it’s true,
I’ll bet your hands are beautiful,
I’m sure your head is beautiful,
But with world is ugly,
The world is ugly even after you
Invertebrates now contemplate your lavishing and humble service,
All set to hide behind the guise that this empty thing can’t hurt us,
Sensationalized for virgin eyes, it’s graphic, it’s disturbing,
And it’s worse still to think it’s real,
Degrading and unnerving"
-Showbread, "Welcome to Plainfield Tobe Hooper"
Let the bones crack as I scream out this song
when all I ever wanted was to see Your face.
The beauty I forgot.
The majesty I never knew.
I'm so tired.
It has been so many years.
How do people push on in this planet?
It is so dry, so ugly and barren. Nothing like the home we never knew we may have left.
Two years of sitting here.
Two years of feeling my flesh rot
and my soul decay.
Two years of the same song
and two years of no relief.
Am I coming full circle
or just realizing I'm trapped in Hell?
I hate this prison that I've made.
This has to die now.
Every last painful moment,
everything I have been afraid of,
every wall I have built
and ever hidden sin.
I'm full of more lies, more deceit and more hypocrisy then I could ever know...but where this Hell has burned away there is growing hope. Flourishing in the pain, there is a revival coming.
A revealing.
This skin will be peeled back and what is underneath shall be shone. No more false pretension, no more hollow words and more deceit.
Everything I ever was shall be seen and I'll stand here naked, letting the flaws of my life be revealed. I can't hid from myself forever...because the cracks and here and are growing by the second.
There is no end.
There has never been an end.
Just a transition from this point, this life to the next.
Beauty redefined in the face of light
Jesus, what the Hell am I doing messing with this stuff? I'm not playing with fire...I'm sitting in gasoline and trying to strike the match.
Are you still a God of peace? Purpose? Understanding? The Infinite One who is not bound by the limitations of flesh and broken spirit?
Speak to me please.
What am I supposed to do now? What step do I take to get out of this disgusting tar?
I'm tired of feeling my heart slip out of my chest and getting caught by the rapid changing world...I can't take much more of this jerking back and forth.
Helter skelter, from the top to the bottom back to the top again...I keep falling down this path and I hate it.
I hate it.
God I hate this flesh and wish it would burn away. How can I accept failure when it burns like a cancer I want to cut out? When it sinks further into my heart twisting me into this ugly caricature that looks so much like you?
I hate this heart, I hate this mind and I hate this body.
What You made was made good but now it's ugly.
Just like you.
"That thing inside my ribs is like a pile of reptiles,
Pressed on splintered vertebrae, so cold, so claustrophobic,
Echoing in hollow fruit are orders sent with love to you,
To serve a will more shallow still than paramecium
I’ll bet your hands are beautiful,
I’m sure your head is beautiful,
But the world is ugly,
The world is ugly and it’s true,
I’ll bet your hands are beautiful,
I’m sure your head is beautiful,
But with world is ugly,
The world is ugly even after you
Invertebrates now contemplate your lavishing and humble service,
All set to hide behind the guise that this empty thing can’t hurt us,
Sensationalized for virgin eyes, it’s graphic, it’s disturbing,
And it’s worse still to think it’s real,
Degrading and unnerving"
-Showbread, "Welcome to Plainfield Tobe Hooper"
Let the bones crack as I scream out this song
when all I ever wanted was to see Your face.
The beauty I forgot.
The majesty I never knew.
I'm so tired.
It has been so many years.
How do people push on in this planet?
It is so dry, so ugly and barren. Nothing like the home we never knew we may have left.
Two years of sitting here.
Two years of feeling my flesh rot
and my soul decay.
Two years of the same song
and two years of no relief.
Am I coming full circle
or just realizing I'm trapped in Hell?
I hate this prison that I've made.
This has to die now.
Every last painful moment,
everything I have been afraid of,
every wall I have built
and ever hidden sin.
I'm full of more lies, more deceit and more hypocrisy then I could ever know...but where this Hell has burned away there is growing hope. Flourishing in the pain, there is a revival coming.
A revealing.
This skin will be peeled back and what is underneath shall be shone. No more false pretension, no more hollow words and more deceit.
Everything I ever was shall be seen and I'll stand here naked, letting the flaws of my life be revealed. I can't hid from myself forever...because the cracks and here and are growing by the second.
There is no end.
There has never been an end.
Just a transition from this point, this life to the next.
Beauty redefined in the face of light
Monday, August 24, 2009
And you wonder why I refuse to eat pork...?
Reading this about made me sick:
http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/12840743/porks_dirty_secret_the_nations_top_hog_producer_is_also_one_of_americas_worst_polluters/1
http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/12840743/porks_dirty_secret_the_nations_top_hog_producer_is_also_one_of_americas_worst_polluters/1
Christian Fiction
Okay.
A common question I get is since I enjoy writing, I want to be a writer and I am a Christian minister person thingy...why don't I write Christian fiction?
To be honest I find most Christian fiction to be uninspiring and boring at best, at its absolute worst it is merely a Harlequin romance novel rewritten with 'Christian' themes.
One of the principles that has guided my hand in both the creative and practical realm is that I have no desire to 'sell' or make a profit from Jesus. I have a very low threshold when it comes to dealing with anyone who reeks of being a televangelist...which is why I try so desperately to push away from those stereotypes and behaviors. And with the exception of a general feeling like I am an underachiever I feel that I have done a good job in that respect...I have nothing to really hide from and inevitably when some controversy will arise I have no desire to pin my worth as a human being (much less that of a Christian) on the equally fallible thoughts of other people.
The same disdain I have for the Christian music industry is the same I have for the Christian writing industry. There is an appalling lack of artistic innovation and an unnerving amount of cookie cutter clones that do nothing except beat the same tired horse time after time.
How is this supposed to be representative of how I feel about God and Jesus? If I can't take the time to write out and express my own vivid and unique understanding of this...thing...how will people begin to take it seriously? Sloppy and shameless copying do nothing except have a horrible reek, which is a fancy way of saying the chief concern is that of money.
That said, I can chase these ghosts forever. Talking about how tired I am of false pretense, the abuse of cliches and rail against the unjust splitting of infinitives which did nothing to warrant the splitting thereof...but it just becomes a mass of hot air after awhile.
What is it I have interest in writing?
I'm still working on that modern fantasy series that has been in my head for years. I keep using NANOWRIMO as an excuse to finally get down to the nitty gritty and start trying to put it into some logical order but writing is such an unbearably annoying process.
I enjoy looking at the finished work but it is the slugging it out, fighting to find words, struggling to find the least possible appalling metaphor that can get disheartening. I do not know how much untold hours I have spent just staring at a blank page almost overwhelmed by the possibilities of what could be.
There are themes I am interested in pursuing, themes that are quite Christian but I do not feel the need to 'baptize' everything I touch in the current Christian lingo and make everything other statement be about personal relationships with Jesus.
I want to find real artistic integrity and be able to write freely without feeling these group think (but still self imposed) limitations about what is Christian, what can be art and what can be used for good.
A common question I get is since I enjoy writing, I want to be a writer and I am a Christian minister person thingy...why don't I write Christian fiction?
To be honest I find most Christian fiction to be uninspiring and boring at best, at its absolute worst it is merely a Harlequin romance novel rewritten with 'Christian' themes.
One of the principles that has guided my hand in both the creative and practical realm is that I have no desire to 'sell' or make a profit from Jesus. I have a very low threshold when it comes to dealing with anyone who reeks of being a televangelist...which is why I try so desperately to push away from those stereotypes and behaviors. And with the exception of a general feeling like I am an underachiever I feel that I have done a good job in that respect...I have nothing to really hide from and inevitably when some controversy will arise I have no desire to pin my worth as a human being (much less that of a Christian) on the equally fallible thoughts of other people.
The same disdain I have for the Christian music industry is the same I have for the Christian writing industry. There is an appalling lack of artistic innovation and an unnerving amount of cookie cutter clones that do nothing except beat the same tired horse time after time.
How is this supposed to be representative of how I feel about God and Jesus? If I can't take the time to write out and express my own vivid and unique understanding of this...thing...how will people begin to take it seriously? Sloppy and shameless copying do nothing except have a horrible reek, which is a fancy way of saying the chief concern is that of money.
That said, I can chase these ghosts forever. Talking about how tired I am of false pretense, the abuse of cliches and rail against the unjust splitting of infinitives which did nothing to warrant the splitting thereof...but it just becomes a mass of hot air after awhile.
What is it I have interest in writing?
I'm still working on that modern fantasy series that has been in my head for years. I keep using NANOWRIMO as an excuse to finally get down to the nitty gritty and start trying to put it into some logical order but writing is such an unbearably annoying process.
I enjoy looking at the finished work but it is the slugging it out, fighting to find words, struggling to find the least possible appalling metaphor that can get disheartening. I do not know how much untold hours I have spent just staring at a blank page almost overwhelmed by the possibilities of what could be.
There are themes I am interested in pursuing, themes that are quite Christian but I do not feel the need to 'baptize' everything I touch in the current Christian lingo and make everything other statement be about personal relationships with Jesus.
I want to find real artistic integrity and be able to write freely without feeling these group think (but still self imposed) limitations about what is Christian, what can be art and what can be used for good.
What's in a name?
"Matt - personal name meaning that object you place in doorways for people to walk on and clean their feet on in order that they may not dirty the rest of the house. They are useful for walking on, wiping shoes on and beating with a stick to get dirt off of them."
Gee thank you for your positive spin internet.
Where would I be without you?
Gee thank you for your positive spin internet.
Where would I be without you?
Mondays, I Hate Mondays...
I do not like food...regardless of what I eat it feels like my stomach is on fire...my inside have liquid metal burning through them.
I refuse to believe in there being balance in karma...unless of course I'm being used as a whipping boy for other people's stomach sins.
I've just got to find a way to get calories and nutrients and cut everything else out. Maybe that will help reduce the searing pain...right now I'm just stuck in bed...my mind a growing source of unrest and ill at ease thoughts.
I'm not sitting here waiting on a change to find me...I just would like for the world to stop spinning long enough for me to stand up.
I have some optimistic thoughts...high thoughts of hope...maybe even of feeling loved...but for now I am just going to play those close to my chest. I don't want my heart escaping out on its own and running about with no restraint...freedom is an illusion...because it is more of a choice of who/what we shackle ourselves to...but the shackling can be good.
Is this going to be it?
Think carefully before you speak.
My mind and heart are in fragile states of denial, one small push and I might start believing again, almost as if none of this ever did exist.
Is time still a problem?
How about metaphysical boundaries?
The problem of self actualization?
How about realizing that being is not necessarily being?
It's a simple as knowing when a door is not a door...and that is when it is simply just ajar.
That simple riddle goes a long way in explaining everything to do with you.
Nothing and everything at the same time.
It's just that important.
I refuse to believe in there being balance in karma...unless of course I'm being used as a whipping boy for other people's stomach sins.
I've just got to find a way to get calories and nutrients and cut everything else out. Maybe that will help reduce the searing pain...right now I'm just stuck in bed...my mind a growing source of unrest and ill at ease thoughts.
I'm not sitting here waiting on a change to find me...I just would like for the world to stop spinning long enough for me to stand up.
I have some optimistic thoughts...high thoughts of hope...maybe even of feeling loved...but for now I am just going to play those close to my chest. I don't want my heart escaping out on its own and running about with no restraint...freedom is an illusion...because it is more of a choice of who/what we shackle ourselves to...but the shackling can be good.
Is this going to be it?
Think carefully before you speak.
My mind and heart are in fragile states of denial, one small push and I might start believing again, almost as if none of this ever did exist.
Is time still a problem?
How about metaphysical boundaries?
The problem of self actualization?
How about realizing that being is not necessarily being?
It's a simple as knowing when a door is not a door...and that is when it is simply just ajar.
That simple riddle goes a long way in explaining everything to do with you.
Nothing and everything at the same time.
It's just that important.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Love
God I am starting to hate this word.
Love.
I don't think there has been a single word featured in the English language that has been so misunderstood, so neglected, to misused, abused, treated like rubbish and then it is still somehow supposed to be this magical solution to all the problems.
I hate hearing it, I hate feeling it and I hate experiencing it.
I should preface this angry rant by saying I'm exhausted, I'm in pain, I'm depressed, I'm scared, I'm hopeful, I'm reluctant to believe, I'm hoping, I'm desiring, I'm in need...so needy and here I am; all of these nerve cells, brain chemicals and mix of failures combined into one person.
I feel a bit like John Lennon in the song 'God' just going on and on about what I don't believe in...and I'm saying how angry it makes me. My problems began with being short changed while a child and still I haven't moved on. It's like every pain and hurt has just settled in and is building a wall...a brick wall to keep everything else out.
A large portion of me just wants to cut everything out and everyone off and just find a way to go at it alone...to shoulder the pain and just die blissfully alone and without having to hear another annoying voice express concern or tell me I am valuable.
It hurt so much to love and be loved...the worse is how Jesus refuses to stop...no matter how much I beg to be alone He is here. Loving me more by the moment then I ever thought possible.
I'm my own worse enemy and I don't even have the strength right now to really care.
Maybe my brain will just be wiped when I go to sleep and when I wake up the pain will have stopped...or maybe it'll be worse. Maybe everything and nothing will both happen at the same time.
The miracle will not be me being healed...but me giving a damn when this is all said and done. Apathy is so richly intoxicating and hard to say no to.
Love.
I don't think there has been a single word featured in the English language that has been so misunderstood, so neglected, to misused, abused, treated like rubbish and then it is still somehow supposed to be this magical solution to all the problems.
I hate hearing it, I hate feeling it and I hate experiencing it.
I should preface this angry rant by saying I'm exhausted, I'm in pain, I'm depressed, I'm scared, I'm hopeful, I'm reluctant to believe, I'm hoping, I'm desiring, I'm in need...so needy and here I am; all of these nerve cells, brain chemicals and mix of failures combined into one person.
I feel a bit like John Lennon in the song 'God' just going on and on about what I don't believe in...and I'm saying how angry it makes me. My problems began with being short changed while a child and still I haven't moved on. It's like every pain and hurt has just settled in and is building a wall...a brick wall to keep everything else out.
A large portion of me just wants to cut everything out and everyone off and just find a way to go at it alone...to shoulder the pain and just die blissfully alone and without having to hear another annoying voice express concern or tell me I am valuable.
It hurt so much to love and be loved...the worse is how Jesus refuses to stop...no matter how much I beg to be alone He is here. Loving me more by the moment then I ever thought possible.
I'm my own worse enemy and I don't even have the strength right now to really care.
Maybe my brain will just be wiped when I go to sleep and when I wake up the pain will have stopped...or maybe it'll be worse. Maybe everything and nothing will both happen at the same time.
The miracle will not be me being healed...but me giving a damn when this is all said and done. Apathy is so richly intoxicating and hard to say no to.
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