Sunday, November 1, 2009
"My Throat is an Open Grave" - Demon Hunter
"This isn't me I used to say.
All the love was so gone.
It feels good to be alive.
I've been dead for so long.
Wake up screaming, I'm awake and dreaming,
and I won't stop breathing until my heart stops beating.
This isn't me, i used to say.
all the love was so gone, It feels good to be alive,
I've been dead for so long."
Antsy, Angry oh What a Day...
Unless a person's heart is numb or dead I think the natural human reaction to sin is anger.
Of course you have to define sin and God being the clever omnipotent being that He is went ahead and sort of didn't break it down in the Bible. After you read it a half dozen or so times you start to get the distinct impression about what sin is:
1.Hurting God.
2.Hurting yourself.
3.Hurting others.
I see the lines in the sand, I see the blood that is crying up from the ground. Speaking in harsh tongues that only God and I understand. It is crying out in protest, in shame, in hate, in anger...crying out against me.
I'm so sick...so sick of everything I've done for me.
Acting so stupid, moving out of turn and trying to...
I just can't find the words to form them because I have hidden them so well.
I wanted...wanted...and needed...needed...
And I got all the lies I asked for.
Gift wrapped and expressed shipped here to me, from you babe.
Everything I ever wanted, everything I ever needed.
And God it makes me so sick.
I want to throw up just to get it out of my body.
I want to bleed out this poison so I can breath again.
Rip open my heart, show you my soul
and make you see me as me.
Not the pretend image you like to dance to.
I want the world to see the real me
and everything I'm not,
just so maybe for once God can shine through.
I'm just living death
crashing through windows
colliding and breaking
and hurting the innocent
just because I am.
Nothing more and nothing less
because I'm everything that I am not
and here I am
just begging,
wanting, needing, praying
just to be freed.
I sought the dream
and laid weeping at my disgrace.
I fought the night
and was broken on my own power.
Every lie I've made,
every last insincerity
I choke on and die
as I lay here hoping for something more.
I can't give anything more than me,
this poorest of poor offerings
because of the misuse and brokenness.
I want to see with these eyes again.
I want to scream your prasies with this voice.
Every wasted minute I want back
as I need You nearby.
I can't stand the corruption inside me,
this beloved cancer I cradel
and make love to
just to push You further from my soul.
Why can't every last block be removed?
How long must I wait for my Love to rescue me?
To save me from this trap of my own doing?
I was caught by my cleverness
and here I lay dying
hoping and praying for something more.
I can wait here crying
feeling the cold hand of dying
or dare to move
and die along the way.
Every breath is bringing me closer
to the climax,
this last moment of life
where my soul shall leave this destroyed shell
and the freedom of Love
and eternity shall wrap His hands around me
and never again,
never will I cry
never will I waste monuments in desecrated silence to you
as I lay here infested with the hate.
No more.
Not again.
Never will this sin resume.
Only love will exist.
Perfect Love to wipe my tears away
as I cling to You
and feel what it is I've sought for my life,
when I find everything I have wanted
in this one moment of freedom.
Of course you have to define sin and God being the clever omnipotent being that He is went ahead and sort of didn't break it down in the Bible. After you read it a half dozen or so times you start to get the distinct impression about what sin is:
1.Hurting God.
2.Hurting yourself.
3.Hurting others.
I see the lines in the sand, I see the blood that is crying up from the ground. Speaking in harsh tongues that only God and I understand. It is crying out in protest, in shame, in hate, in anger...crying out against me.
I'm so sick...so sick of everything I've done for me.
Acting so stupid, moving out of turn and trying to...
I just can't find the words to form them because I have hidden them so well.
I wanted...wanted...and needed...needed...
And I got all the lies I asked for.
Gift wrapped and expressed shipped here to me, from you babe.
Everything I ever wanted, everything I ever needed.
And God it makes me so sick.
I want to throw up just to get it out of my body.
I want to bleed out this poison so I can breath again.
Rip open my heart, show you my soul
and make you see me as me.
Not the pretend image you like to dance to.
I want the world to see the real me
and everything I'm not,
just so maybe for once God can shine through.
I'm just living death
crashing through windows
colliding and breaking
and hurting the innocent
just because I am.
Nothing more and nothing less
because I'm everything that I am not
and here I am
just begging,
wanting, needing, praying
just to be freed.
I sought the dream
and laid weeping at my disgrace.
I fought the night
and was broken on my own power.
Every lie I've made,
every last insincerity
I choke on and die
as I lay here hoping for something more.
I can't give anything more than me,
this poorest of poor offerings
because of the misuse and brokenness.
I want to see with these eyes again.
I want to scream your prasies with this voice.
Every wasted minute I want back
as I need You nearby.
I can't stand the corruption inside me,
this beloved cancer I cradel
and make love to
just to push You further from my soul.
Why can't every last block be removed?
How long must I wait for my Love to rescue me?
To save me from this trap of my own doing?
I was caught by my cleverness
and here I lay dying
hoping and praying for something more.
I can wait here crying
feeling the cold hand of dying
or dare to move
and die along the way.
Every breath is bringing me closer
to the climax,
this last moment of life
where my soul shall leave this destroyed shell
and the freedom of Love
and eternity shall wrap His hands around me
and never again,
never will I cry
never will I waste monuments in desecrated silence to you
as I lay here infested with the hate.
No more.
Not again.
Never will this sin resume.
Only love will exist.
Perfect Love to wipe my tears away
as I cling to You
and feel what it is I've sought for my life,
when I find everything I have wanted
in this one moment of freedom.
Quote of the Day:
"I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."
-Douglas Adams
-Douglas Adams
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.
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