Hey guys!
Well I'll make this short and sweet.
A couple of days ago, my email account was hacked into, and I was forced to delete it. I tried to change my email address, but blogger is giving me problems, so I've decided to take this opportunity to move to another blogging service. I was considering deleting this one altogether, however, tumblr, the new service I've decided on, doesn't import blogs, so it will stay online, although abandoned [sad face], for I will no longer be posting here.
I would like everyone to click here for the link to my new blog, if you can't, simply go to chroniclingmontax.tumblr.com to view my blog.Thanks for all of your support, you guys! you've been amazing!
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
advice... well meaning if nothing else.
I was studying for finals when I all of a sudden had a friend send me a message on facebook, depicting a video he wanted to share with me and discuss when I had the chance. It is the video described above.
I would sincerely like your thoughts once you watch it.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Prayer: Best served Dry and Covered in Doubt.
The morning greets me with a sense of estrangement. The clock reads twenty-'til, and I left my phone in the car. I'm still in my pajamas, feeling less handsome and more homely, less prodigious and more pitiful, and I don't know whether it is sad thing nor a liberating thing. Nor whether or not I should care either way.
I suppose what concerns me today is merely me, but I've recently come to look at myself as "less ____ than..."; less brilliant than my classmates, less handsome than the guys with girlfriends (or boyfriends, depending), less capable than the ones in my life who accomplish anything. Less than, less than, less than: it's been ringing in the hallway maze of my mind, and I've been searching of how to get rid of it: to drown it out with my own saying otherwise. I've been trying to find out how to explain to myself the constant lack of confidence, the cringes of disapproval upon every picture of myself on facebook, the less than attitude of myself in comparison to everyone.
A part of me feels like the same avenues are useless: My body and my mind know all of my tricks. The same distractions won't do anymore; I don't know how to fool myself into being self-confident, how to fool myself into being self-sufficient, how to fool myself into doing anything. A part of me feels trapped in my own skin syrupy mind.
And a part of me feels like a waste, how the best things that I could think of could change the world, and will never be able done by another, how this time is meant for me, and that is why I am here. How the general's horn is sounding and I should be answering, not laying in my cot.
But my body feels foreign; heavy, like a suit of armor. My soul feels frustrated at the daily beating, and we don't seem to be getting any stronger, any more pretty, any smarter, just hearing more of the same in all the words spoken to us from our mother and our friends, the actions, the plans made for us, the plans made without us. We aren't strong. We aren't pretty. We aren't smart. My body says to me, echoing in the halls of my mind. I can't turn the music up loud enough in my ears or my head: they just chant louder.
So here I lay, ugly, stupid, and weak, my body too heavy, the chanting too loud. I have no one beside me, and no future before me, but I know I'll keep pushing for Pushing's sake.
And I look in the mirror, give it a kiss.
"Look at me, Baby. We'll be fine.
Look at me, Baby. We'll be fine.
'Cause all We've got to do is to be brave and be kind."
Baby, We'll Be Fine by youngestson
I suppose what concerns me today is merely me, but I've recently come to look at myself as "less ____ than..."; less brilliant than my classmates, less handsome than the guys with girlfriends (or boyfriends, depending), less capable than the ones in my life who accomplish anything. Less than, less than, less than: it's been ringing in the hallway maze of my mind, and I've been searching of how to get rid of it: to drown it out with my own saying otherwise. I've been trying to find out how to explain to myself the constant lack of confidence, the cringes of disapproval upon every picture of myself on facebook, the less than attitude of myself in comparison to everyone.
A part of me feels like the same avenues are useless: My body and my mind know all of my tricks. The same distractions won't do anymore; I don't know how to fool myself into being self-confident, how to fool myself into being self-sufficient, how to fool myself into doing anything. A part of me feels trapped in my own skin syrupy mind.
And a part of me feels like a waste, how the best things that I could think of could change the world, and will never be able done by another, how this time is meant for me, and that is why I am here. How the general's horn is sounding and I should be answering, not laying in my cot.
But my body feels foreign; heavy, like a suit of armor. My soul feels frustrated at the daily beating, and we don't seem to be getting any stronger, any more pretty, any smarter, just hearing more of the same in all the words spoken to us from our mother and our friends, the actions, the plans made for us, the plans made without us. We aren't strong. We aren't pretty. We aren't smart. My body says to me, echoing in the halls of my mind. I can't turn the music up loud enough in my ears or my head: they just chant louder.
So here I lay, ugly, stupid, and weak, my body too heavy, the chanting too loud. I have no one beside me, and no future before me, but I know I'll keep pushing for Pushing's sake.
And I look in the mirror, give it a kiss.
"Look at me, Baby. We'll be fine.
Look at me, Baby. We'll be fine.
'Cause all We've got to do is to be brave and be kind."
Baby, We'll Be Fine by youngestson
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Oh Joy, Where Art Thou?
President Obama announced approximately an hour ago that Osama Bin Laden was killed by US Forces. There is talk of celebrating in Washington DC and New York. I don't watch.
I need not to say nor hear all the reasons any American would see this as good. The final defeat that comes to Bin Laden, death, is in someway comforting to the patriot. Death is a form of retribution. Death is a form of punishment. Only one person has escaped it, that I know of-- a prophet that could easily be painted as abrasive or obnoxious, going on record to mock those of other faiths. He lived a life of exile, but his message was harsh, and he didn't spare feelings or mince words. He was the prophet Elijah, and instead of dying, God himself sent down a chariot of fire to greet him and carry him off to heaven. Not having a chariot of fire take you from the earth and dying on the same rock as the people you have avidly sought to destroy comes as a relief to us. We, the inhabitants of this earth, find it to be a comfort, because then we can know that you are not an Elijah. You are not favored by God. You are not right.
Perhaps another reason this poses such a surprising reaction within me is because, according to the bible, there will be peace in the middle east in the book of revelation. I don't usually go with the bible theories, but I still find it troubling, even politically speaking. I don't know who will take his place, this man who caused some of the most disturbing times in America's history. Biblically speaking, I do not know whether I would be more troubled if no one replaced him, and only more tension rose in the middle east between 8 different factions where 2 once stood.
So, what do you feel about it? How does his death affect you? Leave a comment below.
I need not to say nor hear all the reasons any American would see this as good. The final defeat that comes to Bin Laden, death, is in someway comforting to the patriot. Death is a form of retribution. Death is a form of punishment. Only one person has escaped it, that I know of-- a prophet that could easily be painted as abrasive or obnoxious, going on record to mock those of other faiths. He lived a life of exile, but his message was harsh, and he didn't spare feelings or mince words. He was the prophet Elijah, and instead of dying, God himself sent down a chariot of fire to greet him and carry him off to heaven. Not having a chariot of fire take you from the earth and dying on the same rock as the people you have avidly sought to destroy comes as a relief to us. We, the inhabitants of this earth, find it to be a comfort, because then we can know that you are not an Elijah. You are not favored by God. You are not right.
Perhaps another reason this poses such a surprising reaction within me is because, according to the bible, there will be peace in the middle east in the book of revelation. I don't usually go with the bible theories, but I still find it troubling, even politically speaking. I don't know who will take his place, this man who caused some of the most disturbing times in America's history. Biblically speaking, I do not know whether I would be more troubled if no one replaced him, and only more tension rose in the middle east between 8 different factions where 2 once stood.
So, what do you feel about it? How does his death affect you? Leave a comment below.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Discovering Who Pishon is
I've recently come to discover a new facet of one of my lesser examined spirits, Pishon. I'll admit, I've always regarded Atticus as my favorite, what with his many virtues and wise ways of being, and Israel has always brought me a level of peace in my day-to-day dealings, but Pishon, until now, I have regarded as a child, his most prominent trait being that of merest curiosity and undying simplicity in the debates the three of them would engage in. Pishon, however, has been responsible for a lot more it seems.
I have discovered that, if Atticus is Wisdom and Judgement, and Israel is Peace and Grace, Pishon is Courage and Strength.
I have tried the highly fancied "following one's bliss," a task I left up to the smallest of the spirits. And so Pishon led me to the springboard.
"But I'm afraid of heights!" I protested at first.
"But it's so cool!" Pishon giggled, disguising his lesson in the most brilliant of smiles.
And so, my racing heart beating off sheer crack-imitating adrenaline, we drove ourselves to the ten meter platform before we set foot on the one meter spring. 3.2 feet vs. 9.8 feet vs. 32.8 feet, and still he pulls me forward. Off each board until we hear the thunder of the metal against the fulcrum and we fall, shoot, splash into the water below like lightning after the sand. And then we strive to do it again, with more tumbles and faster spins, hungry for more air and louder claps of thunder and quieter splashes. Pishon is the wall breaker of my physical being, willing my body to learn how to sing without me ever opening my mouth.
And yet, he is tugging at me again. He's on a mission, and I'm afraid he won't stop until my fears are but shredded ribbons falling to the ground. Maybe he's got a dark side, but I don't mind much, because his sights are my sights, and maybe we should both be locked up... ;}
I have discovered that, if Atticus is Wisdom and Judgement, and Israel is Peace and Grace, Pishon is Courage and Strength.
I have tried the highly fancied "following one's bliss," a task I left up to the smallest of the spirits. And so Pishon led me to the springboard.
"But I'm afraid of heights!" I protested at first.
"But it's so cool!" Pishon giggled, disguising his lesson in the most brilliant of smiles.
And so, my racing heart beating off sheer crack-imitating adrenaline, we drove ourselves to the ten meter platform before we set foot on the one meter spring. 3.2 feet vs. 9.8 feet vs. 32.8 feet, and still he pulls me forward. Off each board until we hear the thunder of the metal against the fulcrum and we fall, shoot, splash into the water below like lightning after the sand. And then we strive to do it again, with more tumbles and faster spins, hungry for more air and louder claps of thunder and quieter splashes. Pishon is the wall breaker of my physical being, willing my body to learn how to sing without me ever opening my mouth.
And yet, he is tugging at me again. He's on a mission, and I'm afraid he won't stop until my fears are but shredded ribbons falling to the ground. Maybe he's got a dark side, but I don't mind much, because his sights are my sights, and maybe we should both be locked up... ;}
Sunday, April 17, 2011
An Interesting Thought
So I'm reading chapter 7 of Romans, the first time in what seems like ages, and I read the first half, as stated in the NIV version:
But I feel the need to also put up what Paul argues as well:
The point that I was trying to make was that, homosexuals, in accordance with the old law, were to be punished with death. We were also hailed as detestable. But with God's death, we were freed of those things, and given the marriage example, our desire to be loved by another man is no longer punishable by the old law, because we are alive in Christ, which means death to the old Law.
But of Course, I would like to open the floor to my readers, the intellectuals and academics, the patient and the wise, to openly criticize and support my findings. As iron sharpens iron, so shall we to each other.
1 Do you not know, brothers and sisters—for I am speaking to those who know the law—that the law has authority over someone only as long as that person lives? 2 For example, by law a married woman is bound to her husband as long as he is alive, but if her husband dies, she is released from the law that binds her to him. 3 So then, if she has sexual relations with another man while her husband is still alive, she is called an adulteress. But if her husband dies, she is released from that law and is not an adulteress if she marries another man.I feel that in this passage in the a key point to peace between me and the God model through orthodox Christianity. The example presented explicitly illustrates that, by the law of God, a woman is tied to her divorced husband for as long as he lives. It is then by this case that, once he is dead, and is no longer tied to the Law that governs the living, she is then released by the stipulation to marry whom she wishes. It goes on to say that, with the death of Jesus, and extension of God, the Law is then null and void, so that we can redeem ourselves through this new life-- we are then free to marry again, because our husband is dead...
4 So, my brothers and sisters, you also died to the law through the body of Christ, that you might belong to another, to him who was raised from the dead, in order that we might bear fruit for God. 5 For when we were in the realm of the flesh,[a] the sinful passions aroused by the law were at work in us, so that we bore fruit for death. 6 But now, by dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code. [Romans 7:1-4]
But I feel the need to also put up what Paul argues as well:
What shall we say, then? Is the law sinful? Certainly not! Nevertheless, I would not have known what sin was had it not been for the law. For I would not have known what coveting really was if the law had not said, “You shall not covet.”[b] 8 But sin, seizing the opportunity afforded by the commandment, produced in me every kind of coveting. For apart from the law, sin was dead. 9 Once I was alive apart from the law; but when the commandment came, sin sprang to life and I died. 10 I found that the very commandment that was intended to bring life actually brought death. 11 For sin, seizing the opportunity afforded by the commandment, deceived me, and through the commandment put me to death. 12 So then, the law is holy, and the commandment is holy, righteous and good. [Romans 7: 7-12]Get it? Got the difference? Good. Moving on...
The point that I was trying to make was that, homosexuals, in accordance with the old law, were to be punished with death. We were also hailed as detestable. But with God's death, we were freed of those things, and given the marriage example, our desire to be loved by another man is no longer punishable by the old law, because we are alive in Christ, which means death to the old Law.
But of Course, I would like to open the floor to my readers, the intellectuals and academics, the patient and the wise, to openly criticize and support my findings. As iron sharpens iron, so shall we to each other.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
"This time next year?"
The words echo in my head. Although I said them, her voice is attached to them. This time, next year... next year seems so far. Too far.
I am a complete and total failure when it comes to long-term goals. I lament the lack of mental fortitude on my part to complete projects that would ask more that a smidgen of my potential. Now comes another, and the stakes are high. The stakes are so high.
"It's just a school," says a half-spirit, his voice tired and a perpetual yawn. "You are smart enough. You don't need to go there.. It's just Berkeley. Besides, you can't do it."
"Would you button it?" Pishon responds, but he raises his hand to stifle an involuntary exhale. "I wanna go! It sounds wonderful! Musicians and friends. Literature Heads and Math Wizards! Can't you imagine?! Why don't we try our hardest?"
"But people better than us haven't gotten in!" says the nameless voice. "What hope do we have?"
"More than enough, with you gone." Israel snaps. "And stop saying 'we', like you are a part of us. I know who you are, Sloth. I've grown tired of you, you saboteur. You have no business being here."
"Oh, off your high horse!" He steps out of the shadows. "I've been here since before you were conceived. I know this soul inside and out. I bring him pleasure when his mind is blank and his body is lax. I have brought out the contentment in stillness."
"Oh, so wrong, boyo," Atticus objects. "You have plagued him, kept him dependent and hostile. You have allowed his to grow weak and insecure with your partners in crime. You do not belong. He loves you no more. He has grown tired of you."
Atticus, Israel, Pishon, such wonderful protectors. They are the friends I will need as I head into this War. It has been a war of attrition, and I've been on the losing side, but I've got a star on the dark horizon, a promise and a deadline. Heading through the haze I must go. I must pack my bags.
I am a complete and total failure when it comes to long-term goals. I lament the lack of mental fortitude on my part to complete projects that would ask more that a smidgen of my potential. Now comes another, and the stakes are high. The stakes are so high.
"It's just a school," says a half-spirit, his voice tired and a perpetual yawn. "You are smart enough. You don't need to go there.. It's just Berkeley. Besides, you can't do it."
"Would you button it?" Pishon responds, but he raises his hand to stifle an involuntary exhale. "I wanna go! It sounds wonderful! Musicians and friends. Literature Heads and Math Wizards! Can't you imagine?! Why don't we try our hardest?"
"But people better than us haven't gotten in!" says the nameless voice. "What hope do we have?"
"More than enough, with you gone." Israel snaps. "And stop saying 'we', like you are a part of us. I know who you are, Sloth. I've grown tired of you, you saboteur. You have no business being here."
"Oh, off your high horse!" He steps out of the shadows. "I've been here since before you were conceived. I know this soul inside and out. I bring him pleasure when his mind is blank and his body is lax. I have brought out the contentment in stillness."
"Oh, so wrong, boyo," Atticus objects. "You have plagued him, kept him dependent and hostile. You have allowed his to grow weak and insecure with your partners in crime. You do not belong. He loves you no more. He has grown tired of you."
Atticus, Israel, Pishon, such wonderful protectors. They are the friends I will need as I head into this War. It has been a war of attrition, and I've been on the losing side, but I've got a star on the dark horizon, a promise and a deadline. Heading through the haze I must go. I must pack my bags.
Monday, March 21, 2011
A Forgiveness and a Freedom
Saturday's journal entry:
Dear God,
I am tired of Hating.
I woke up this morning, and thought about the diving meet I had yesterday, and the people I rode to the meet with--- my swimming teammates. There is one boy... Patrick [name omitted]. He reminds me of Dad... mostly because he wants to go into the Army. I have this premonition that it'll ruin him.
He's not the first friend I have that is going to into the military, I just have the same feelings for them that I do for him: they'll be monsters when they come out. People who are narrow-mind[ed], nationalist monsters who will be wife-beaters and child-abusers. It doesn't help that Patrick shows small signs of anger management problems.
I have looked at my feelings for the army, and the Police Force as well [they are two peas of the same pod, in my understanding] and, I have to say that my main rationale for these things is that my father became those things. He never really connected with me for years at a time, only took of the authoritarian and raised my brothers and [me] that way. he told me he never had a father, that he had ran out when he was born. to be fair, he never had a real chance to get it right. But i was so angry with him for how he felt he was entitled to tell me what to do when he hadn't yet established a love-based relationship with me. it was a chain-of-command, and I was made to be at the bottom, below everybody.
On some level, I feel like I'm trying to defend my father: "It's not his fault he always scared me into submission--the army did that to him. It's not his fault he couldn't apologize to me and love on me like i wanted him to... the Police Force did that to him." There were things that he subconsciously conveyed to me, I just didn't realize it at the time. He was trying to tell me, throught the gifts so expensive and elaborate, that he loved me. What I had gathered, was that he was too cowardly to say he was sorry, and instead triend to make me forget with the toys and video games. He couldn't tell me with his body that he loved me. He couldn't give me a hug everyday and make me feel welcom in his home, the home that was supposedly mine, too. Instead, I felt out of place. I felt like an unwanted guest. I was anxious in my own home.
The army is not to blame for this. Neither is the [name omitted] Police Department. My Father failed many times, but it is still not his fault. He still raised me. He's still alive. the person at fault, whom I'm not even angry at, is my grandfather, who ran away and left my dad without an example. My dad succeeded where his father failed: he stayed. He can't push past social expectations of the old way, where men were pillars of strengths and bastions against one another. He can't connect with me on his own. I have to break that wall.
I absolve the Army and the Police force of the sins of my father, for none knew what they do. In effect... no one is to blame.
I simply ask that You help me now in the next step of forgiveness: extending my hand to my father and replacing my anger and hatred towards him with compassion, patience, and understanding.
In Jesus name,
Amen.
Friday, March 18, 2011
With Spring Comes Renewal
Thank goodness it's spring break! I know that many of my readers have been working like dogs leading up to this, whether you are at a top-ranked university or a Ivy-League Caliber High school program which you just completed a slough of paper to be sent to Belize or Manhattan or Dubai. It's time to exhale, or, as I did [at the unintentional expense of my beloved friend] keep exhale in a eleven-hour nap [no, seriously, I missed dinner!]
As you can guess, the weeks leading up to spring break are just as stressful as ever, which is why I haven't been more consistent. I had a test in one particular class in which, in the words of one of my facebook friends, "I [...] raped [it] without even yelling 'surprise!' first." It was my hardest class, and I studied and fretted over it for a week and a half. It felt good, let me tell you.
But now that the first day of my break has officially started, I have decided to continue my productive streak. I want to make these days count for the renewing of myself. A lot of praying, a lot of writing, a lot of thinking, and a lot of reading. People will fit in there somewhere, but they are a priority after homework I need to catch up on, so... thinking bottom of the list?
But, spring break, as great as it is, isn't just for me. What are you up this break? Doing anything special? Leave a comment below! Until the next time, hasta la-bye-bye!
As you can guess, the weeks leading up to spring break are just as stressful as ever, which is why I haven't been more consistent. I had a test in one particular class in which, in the words of one of my facebook friends, "I [...] raped [it] without even yelling 'surprise!' first." It was my hardest class, and I studied and fretted over it for a week and a half. It felt good, let me tell you.
But now that the first day of my break has officially started, I have decided to continue my productive streak. I want to make these days count for the renewing of myself. A lot of praying, a lot of writing, a lot of thinking, and a lot of reading. People will fit in there somewhere, but they are a priority after homework I need to catch up on, so... thinking bottom of the list?
But, spring break, as great as it is, isn't just for me. What are you up this break? Doing anything special? Leave a comment below! Until the next time, hasta la-bye-bye!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Cold Weather, Cold Wars
February is a true Aquarius, because it's determined to hang on to winter like a well-festered grudge. Happy belated President's day. Hope everyone's made good use of those sweats and wool attire in your closets; I know I did. =] But, even if the weather is more suiting for those Colonial Imperials than us Inland Imperials, Life, yet again, proves to be akin to the metro: never late, and waiting for no one. And while the mercury in my thermostat continues to shrink, the deadlines are calling their all aboard, and I'm racing into closing doors.
Even if spring's not exactly in full swing, its semester is, and after my first math exam, I am realizing just how much I have been slighted in my high school career. Oh well, live and learn--so let's learn to not trust past experiences when it comes to college algebra, shall we? At least I've found a language that I can actually enjoy: the old ASL.
My first meet is in less than 48 hours--Springboard, in case you don't know. I'd like to say that I've been waiting for this all semester, and though it'll be outdoors, I'll nail every dive, but we all know better, don't we? Between the dreaded food poisoning and the week-long flu, I'm as shaky, and as frigid, as a fawn in its first moments of life. Thank goodness I had my coach to make a crack about his being fully clothed, with a parka and a beanie to boot, against my near nakedness and wetness. =/
In other news, the Mt. Sac area is supposed to rain on friday, with a high of 41. Fan-flipping-tastic.
In friendship, there are Cold Wars and cold dishes. I am not proud of the way some of my relationships with my family members, as well as associates, have been chugging along. Time to flip the switchboard, and try to at least be civil with those I care about, if for nothing more than my own peace of mind. I'm not too good at being mean, not to the people who don't know why I'm ticked off at them.
But, for every waning downside, there's its waxing upside. Scholarships are ripe for the picking, and with my GPA, I can smash at least a few. A healthy pulmonary system means a strong comeback in the exercise department, and a lot of stretches, and dry runs... as well as just runs to warm up. The pining prospects of writing seem to be showing life, after all. A published writer has reviewed my best work, and ripped it a new one [I see it as a good sign], and I've been writing something for class that I may post in my long forgotten 'Anecdotes and Adages' failed spin-off blog. I'll keep you posted.
And now, for the most promising news: I went on a date. I say that, and not that "I slept with someone", because that's what it was: a date. Two people getting to know each other, and without the obligation of sex. He wasn't expecting it, and I wasn't letting it be an option. The result? He is one of the most intriguing people I've met, and I'm liking the 'preserve the mystery' tactics. Credit the increase of self-esteem.
The way we live our lives is a tell-tale sign of how we treat ourselves. Be careful karma doesn't come to haunt you when the opportunity for love comes, or you'll only have your own two arms to keep you warm this winter.
Me? I think it's time for a little review. Until next time, my fellow Imperials. =]
Monday, February 14, 2011
HVD Cheater
Should one comfort a cheater? Should their act of betrayal, and their ensuing remorse, be met with any degree of consolation? I would suppose that we all cheated, in act, in fantasy, but never is it so real that when the words leave us, through her lips, your fingers, lying there before on an LED screen, or dying ring in the air, between two now-once lovers. It is a confession which, when one admits of their own guilt, is like bobbing for soda cans on a cloudy day. The seconds after, the anticipation that awaits the sinking in, the contortion, the furrowed, distraught brow, we are submerged.
And then, the strike of the water. The words, questions, who and how, when and what.
"Who did you do it with?"
"How could you?"
"When did you do it?"
"What did you tell me you loved me for?"
You break from the pool, face a mass of hair, water and tears drenched, spilling from your face, soaking your cotton shirt and wool zip up you didn't bother to shed in your guilty desperation. Your mouth is empty – no soda cans or apples or diamonds big enough to choke on. You cough, sputter, cry in frustration at the impossible task of redemption to atone for the unspeakable atrocity you never saw yourself capable of committing.
You know you can never undo the past. Our memory chooses what to remember or forget, but we cannot command our memory. You cannot save the relationship, can't take back the stone you had to throw to redeem yourself, the same stone you threw to absolve your loved one. The stone that shattered their rib cage and punctured their heart just when was soft enough to trust you, soft like homemade pot pie, the steam and flavor of affection almost bursting the cross. And yet, you have to pass the saucer. You had to throw the stone, for you, and for them.
So You stare at the place where your loved once stood, and not where the knife rests in your bosom, as you wrapped your right hand over the handle and place your left on the tender wound. Count to three, hold your breath, it'll be better once you pull it out, once you forgive yourself.
And then, the strike of the water. The words, questions, who and how, when and what.
"Who did you do it with?"
"How could you?"
"When did you do it?"
"What did you tell me you loved me for?"
You break from the pool, face a mass of hair, water and tears drenched, spilling from your face, soaking your cotton shirt and wool zip up you didn't bother to shed in your guilty desperation. Your mouth is empty – no soda cans or apples or diamonds big enough to choke on. You cough, sputter, cry in frustration at the impossible task of redemption to atone for the unspeakable atrocity you never saw yourself capable of committing.
You know you can never undo the past. Our memory chooses what to remember or forget, but we cannot command our memory. You cannot save the relationship, can't take back the stone you had to throw to redeem yourself, the same stone you threw to absolve your loved one. The stone that shattered their rib cage and punctured their heart just when was soft enough to trust you, soft like homemade pot pie, the steam and flavor of affection almost bursting the cross. And yet, you have to pass the saucer. You had to throw the stone, for you, and for them.
So You stare at the place where your loved once stood, and not where the knife rests in your bosom, as you wrapped your right hand over the handle and place your left on the tender wound. Count to three, hold your breath, it'll be better once you pull it out, once you forgive yourself.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Saying a prayer for the desperate hearts tonight…
This has been a difficult time for some of my friends. Some people have been going through quite an ordeal with family, loved ones, and themselves. This post is dedicated to you. It's dedicated to your pain, your loss, and your frustrations.
My Friends, I pray for you. I know it is difficult. Trials have come, and they have beat you down. Some of you have lost loved ones, both physically and emotionally. Some of you must say goodbye to relationships. Some of you must say goodbye to yourself. Sometimes, we think the best thing to do is to bury ourselves what we know. We think it is best to put more walls between us and the world, to submerge ourselves in our own world real, imaginary, steeped in myth or even steeped in the physical plane.sometimes we think it is best to forget about everything we thought was good in the past, in order to save ourselves. We pull away from those around us, those who love us, those who can help us, because we don't want to deal with it anymore. Out of sight, out of mind.
The thing is, it never truly goes out of our minds. It is like a seed, taking root in our minds. We are unaware, most of the time, it is even there.we convince ourselves we are fine, deceive ourselves whatever way we can in or to believe that we are fine. We pretend that everyone is like this: that the world is evil. Pretty soon, we figure out that our only goal is self-preservation. Nothing could be worse than self preservation for a goal.
Should self-preservation be the goal, ambition dies. Community dies. Family dies. Instead of man helping one another, man seeks to help himself, and when man seeks to help only himself, he signed his own death warrant.
To live on this earth is to interact. To live on this earth is to experience fellow man in addition to nature: human or mother. Life is rough: you never know what hit you with, or for how long, or if you'll even be the same person afterwards. But you must have faith that you will come out of it. You must be able to believe that it will not beat you, that you are made of stronger stuff.
Last night, I saw the show on the Oprah Winfrey Network, titled Master Class. The concept was that socially prominent figures in American society sat down and spoke about their lives. The episode I saw was on one of the greatest writers of all time: Maya Angelou. I've known nothing about this woman, or at least next to nothing. The episode was amazing, and the reason why I thought it was so amazing was because this woman, who I think may have actually been younger than my grandmother, held within her a presence that I had long imagined, but never witnessed. Her voice was as deep as a canyon, and the amount of wisdom she had filled that canyon. Perhaps, one of the most interesting things was that she had voiced many principles my beloved friends had said to me. One of the things Maya Angelou talked about was that there have been so many dark times, so many "clouds", as she called them, that had come into her life, but she said there were so many rainbows. That is what she called them: "rainbows". "Every time my life filled with clouds," she said. "There was always a rainbow. Sometimes, we have clouds in our lives, so that we can be a rainbow in another's life." Ms. Angelou was saying that trials are not without their merit. Hardships are not without their gain.
Some people believe that the Bible alludes to the same answer as well. People ask why God put them through certain trials and certain tragedies. Sometimes, the answer is so we may identify with those who hurt later of a similar ailment. Believers who endure tragedies and come out leaders are more equipped to identify and encourage others who are enduring their trials and their tragedies. They know the pain. They know the suffering. They know where your heart is. They can help. They can be your rainbow.
My dear friends, I say a prayer for the desperate hearts tonight. I pray that you will have peace in your sleep. I pray that you will wake up with new strength for the day. I pray that you so they open with the world. I pray that the world, in turn, opens to you. I pray that you take this experience, learn from it, look at it, and all of its ugliness and beauty, and that you come out all the stronger, the more faithful, the more optimistic, and more driven because of it. Such is the gift of human determination. Such is the lesson of life.
My Friends, I pray for you. I know it is difficult. Trials have come, and they have beat you down. Some of you have lost loved ones, both physically and emotionally. Some of you must say goodbye to relationships. Some of you must say goodbye to yourself. Sometimes, we think the best thing to do is to bury ourselves what we know. We think it is best to put more walls between us and the world, to submerge ourselves in our own world real, imaginary, steeped in myth or even steeped in the physical plane.sometimes we think it is best to forget about everything we thought was good in the past, in order to save ourselves. We pull away from those around us, those who love us, those who can help us, because we don't want to deal with it anymore. Out of sight, out of mind.
The thing is, it never truly goes out of our minds. It is like a seed, taking root in our minds. We are unaware, most of the time, it is even there.we convince ourselves we are fine, deceive ourselves whatever way we can in or to believe that we are fine. We pretend that everyone is like this: that the world is evil. Pretty soon, we figure out that our only goal is self-preservation. Nothing could be worse than self preservation for a goal.
Should self-preservation be the goal, ambition dies. Community dies. Family dies. Instead of man helping one another, man seeks to help himself, and when man seeks to help only himself, he signed his own death warrant.
To live on this earth is to interact. To live on this earth is to experience fellow man in addition to nature: human or mother. Life is rough: you never know what hit you with, or for how long, or if you'll even be the same person afterwards. But you must have faith that you will come out of it. You must be able to believe that it will not beat you, that you are made of stronger stuff.
Last night, I saw the show on the Oprah Winfrey Network, titled Master Class. The concept was that socially prominent figures in American society sat down and spoke about their lives. The episode I saw was on one of the greatest writers of all time: Maya Angelou. I've known nothing about this woman, or at least next to nothing. The episode was amazing, and the reason why I thought it was so amazing was because this woman, who I think may have actually been younger than my grandmother, held within her a presence that I had long imagined, but never witnessed. Her voice was as deep as a canyon, and the amount of wisdom she had filled that canyon. Perhaps, one of the most interesting things was that she had voiced many principles my beloved friends had said to me. One of the things Maya Angelou talked about was that there have been so many dark times, so many "clouds", as she called them, that had come into her life, but she said there were so many rainbows. That is what she called them: "rainbows". "Every time my life filled with clouds," she said. "There was always a rainbow. Sometimes, we have clouds in our lives, so that we can be a rainbow in another's life." Ms. Angelou was saying that trials are not without their merit. Hardships are not without their gain.
Some people believe that the Bible alludes to the same answer as well. People ask why God put them through certain trials and certain tragedies. Sometimes, the answer is so we may identify with those who hurt later of a similar ailment. Believers who endure tragedies and come out leaders are more equipped to identify and encourage others who are enduring their trials and their tragedies. They know the pain. They know the suffering. They know where your heart is. They can help. They can be your rainbow.
My dear friends, I say a prayer for the desperate hearts tonight. I pray that you will have peace in your sleep. I pray that you will wake up with new strength for the day. I pray that you so they open with the world. I pray that the world, in turn, opens to you. I pray that you take this experience, learn from it, look at it, and all of its ugliness and beauty, and that you come out all the stronger, the more faithful, the more optimistic, and more driven because of it. Such is the gift of human determination. Such is the lesson of life.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
More Creative endeavors Underway
Hello all...
I am writing because I've been mulling over what I should do about some bit of information I read in my creative writing class. It compared writing to music, saying that it needed to be practiced everyday. For some reason or another, I never made the connection between the two in the sense that something so natural to me as writing needed to be kept up and made out of habit. And therein lied my problem: I waited for the inspiration to come to me out of the blue, instead of chasing it out.
And so, I've resolved to write at least a poem a day, either in my journal or otherwise, and share them here.
Back to math, but look forward for more writing!
I am writing because I've been mulling over what I should do about some bit of information I read in my creative writing class. It compared writing to music, saying that it needed to be practiced everyday. For some reason or another, I never made the connection between the two in the sense that something so natural to me as writing needed to be kept up and made out of habit. And therein lied my problem: I waited for the inspiration to come to me out of the blue, instead of chasing it out.
And so, I've resolved to write at least a poem a day, either in my journal or otherwise, and share them here.
Back to math, but look forward for more writing!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Voicemail...
Hey, you've reached me. Leave a message after the beep.
Hey, it's me. Please pick up the phone...
[pause]
Okay... I see that you aren't ready just yet. That's okay. I just need you to listen to what I have to say.
Love... I need you to listen to your Soul. Your body is the only thing keeping it standing, isn't it? You can feel how heavy it is, can't you? I know that you can. It's terrible on you, yet you bear it alone. You wont let me help you. I can't take your burdens from you without your consent. I respect you. It's like stealing from you. I don't want to steal from you. But if you give them to me, I may be able to help. If you let me take charge of them, your soul can be left to flourish. It can stop being like cobblestones around your feet. You may be able to move like you once did again.
Please pick up the phone. I know you are there...
I need you to know that I've never left you. I've been by your bedside those countless nights you've been crying. I'm there now, as you fight them. You've been ashamed of your tears. You've been ashamed of much. The way that you walk. The way you speak. The way you look. These are things, gifts, that I made especially for you. You used to like them. Why not now? Because of the way that other people look? Because of how much attention they get for their looks? What's the big deal? The difference between you and them is that they have a camera in front of them and they can assimilate to what is 'desirable' to the rest of the world. I don't want that for you. I gave you a beauty on the outside that matches who you are on the inside. It's a quiet beauty. It's a stand alone beauty. It's a beauty rooted in my strength, stemming from your spiritual limerence, watered by blessing and contemplation, and blooming in divine enlightenment. The enlightenment that comes from the realization that I have never left you.
I know why you cower from me. I know why my name stirs emotions of anger and animosity and misery in your heart. That heart of yours is a gift from me, but you are letting it control you. I want you to stop sitting on the sand of emotion and join me on the stones of truth. The truth that I love you, better than anyone can love or has loved you. The truth that I've got you now, and, no matter what happens, I'm not letting go of you. I've got you now... please, just let me love on you. You and I both know what you look like it when your need for it isn't fulfilled. It hurts us. Do you hear me? I'm not talking about your relationship with me. I mean that you are hurting US! Me, your only true love! I am in pain when you are floundering about as you do! I feel how you hurt yourself in ways you could never imagine! I know how your stomach is constantly in knots from the guilt, the shame, the anger, the disappointment. I know... I know...
Your mailbox is almost out of space. You don't have to pick up right now. Think about what I said. I know what you need. You know what you need. I'll be waiting for your call.
Do not be afraid. Do not cower from me. I know, sweetie, I know.
*END OF MESSAGE*
Hey, it's me. Please pick up the phone...
[pause]
Okay... I see that you aren't ready just yet. That's okay. I just need you to listen to what I have to say.
Love... I need you to listen to your Soul. Your body is the only thing keeping it standing, isn't it? You can feel how heavy it is, can't you? I know that you can. It's terrible on you, yet you bear it alone. You wont let me help you. I can't take your burdens from you without your consent. I respect you. It's like stealing from you. I don't want to steal from you. But if you give them to me, I may be able to help. If you let me take charge of them, your soul can be left to flourish. It can stop being like cobblestones around your feet. You may be able to move like you once did again.
Please pick up the phone. I know you are there...
I need you to know that I've never left you. I've been by your bedside those countless nights you've been crying. I'm there now, as you fight them. You've been ashamed of your tears. You've been ashamed of much. The way that you walk. The way you speak. The way you look. These are things, gifts, that I made especially for you. You used to like them. Why not now? Because of the way that other people look? Because of how much attention they get for their looks? What's the big deal? The difference between you and them is that they have a camera in front of them and they can assimilate to what is 'desirable' to the rest of the world. I don't want that for you. I gave you a beauty on the outside that matches who you are on the inside. It's a quiet beauty. It's a stand alone beauty. It's a beauty rooted in my strength, stemming from your spiritual limerence, watered by blessing and contemplation, and blooming in divine enlightenment. The enlightenment that comes from the realization that I have never left you.
I know why you cower from me. I know why my name stirs emotions of anger and animosity and misery in your heart. That heart of yours is a gift from me, but you are letting it control you. I want you to stop sitting on the sand of emotion and join me on the stones of truth. The truth that I love you, better than anyone can love or has loved you. The truth that I've got you now, and, no matter what happens, I'm not letting go of you. I've got you now... please, just let me love on you. You and I both know what you look like it when your need for it isn't fulfilled. It hurts us. Do you hear me? I'm not talking about your relationship with me. I mean that you are hurting US! Me, your only true love! I am in pain when you are floundering about as you do! I feel how you hurt yourself in ways you could never imagine! I know how your stomach is constantly in knots from the guilt, the shame, the anger, the disappointment. I know... I know...
Your mailbox is almost out of space. You don't have to pick up right now. Think about what I said. I know what you need. You know what you need. I'll be waiting for your call.
Do not be afraid. Do not cower from me. I know, sweetie, I know.
*END OF MESSAGE*
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
The search for what should've been there all along.
I've come to the realization that identity is a fragile thing. Who we are, what we are, the small things that we define ourselves with are a lot like calculus or economics. The second we figure out where a single point of a curve is on the graph, time moves, and the point is lost. Such is the case with identity and certainty. Calculus and trigonometry stop being such, and instead become life, centered about what should be and what happens with life gets in the way.
I apologize for not writing for a while... I've lost myself. As soon as I try to find some sort of constant in my life, something that I can rely or depend on, I find myself uproot, stripped bare, by my own doing sometimes, and I try to find something to grasp onto in order to survive. Something to root myself in.
And so... it is time to delve into my theories again.. to try and expand and hone my formula in order to stay true to myself. I uttered those words again: "I don't like a single thing about myself." That was a cop out to myself, and I know it.
So it's time to ask myself, "Who am I?"
I know these things about myself: I am alive. I am competent. I am literate. I am sensitive. I am curious. I am paranoid. I am spiritual. I am cocky. I am musical. I am a soul, a mind, a heart. I am an orator, of sorts. I am knowledgeable. I am imaginative. I am particular. I am aware. I am enough by myself.
Everything I had written up to that last sentence I know and believe about myself. I have a lot to offer... but not enough to offer myself. What is it that I am in need of for myself?
I know I need these things: companionship, comfort, motivation, strength, hope, love, power, belief, determination, honor, respect, certainty.
How can I supply these things to myself? A lot of my friends/readers may suggest that I read the bible. In time, maybe I will be able to, once I get over my unsettling irritation with it. I know that the bible has a lot to teach me, and that I would be a fool to not at least look at it, but I have my own issues to conquer about the bible first... [It's about time that I deal with them, however... I've got to stop procrastinating.]
But I will figure a way to administer these treatments to myself. In a way that allows me to endure more than I have before. Such is to live, is it not?
I apologize for not writing for a while... I've lost myself. As soon as I try to find some sort of constant in my life, something that I can rely or depend on, I find myself uproot, stripped bare, by my own doing sometimes, and I try to find something to grasp onto in order to survive. Something to root myself in.
And so... it is time to delve into my theories again.. to try and expand and hone my formula in order to stay true to myself. I uttered those words again: "I don't like a single thing about myself." That was a cop out to myself, and I know it.
So it's time to ask myself, "Who am I?"
I know these things about myself: I am alive. I am competent. I am literate. I am sensitive. I am curious. I am paranoid. I am spiritual. I am cocky. I am musical. I am a soul, a mind, a heart. I am an orator, of sorts. I am knowledgeable. I am imaginative. I am particular. I am aware. I am enough by myself.
Everything I had written up to that last sentence I know and believe about myself. I have a lot to offer... but not enough to offer myself. What is it that I am in need of for myself?
I know I need these things: companionship, comfort, motivation, strength, hope, love, power, belief, determination, honor, respect, certainty.
How can I supply these things to myself? A lot of my friends/readers may suggest that I read the bible. In time, maybe I will be able to, once I get over my unsettling irritation with it. I know that the bible has a lot to teach me, and that I would be a fool to not at least look at it, but I have my own issues to conquer about the bible first... [It's about time that I deal with them, however... I've got to stop procrastinating.]
But I will figure a way to administer these treatments to myself. In a way that allows me to endure more than I have before. Such is to live, is it not?
Friday, January 14, 2011
Windstorm
It is always quite something to watch an jet fly above a windstorm. When you watch it lazily stream across the sky, you can all but forget the furious bending of the trees and beating of the gusts. Maybe it is the same with feeling the rain pummel you in the midst of the thunderstorm, or watching the first snowfall of the season while out in ungodly chill.
Last night, I think I may have met one of my Spirits in my dreams... He was scruffy, blond-haired, with piercing blue eyes... another person, I'm assuming another spirits, called him Michael. Recently, I had come to the conclusion that my spirits were more than just totems, but guardian angels, as it were. This one was meant for protection. He was Atticus, I had come to understand, but I also understood that he must have more than one name. I also glimpsed at the others too, but only Atticus, only Michael, sticks in my mind now.
Michael, the Archangel. Michael, the protector. Michael, the general. How odd to see him in the betwixt of consciousness and unconsciousness. I did not wake definitely: I slipped in and out as if on medication, but I remember his face, and another's voice.
If you stare at a jet above a windstorm, the windstorm stops being terrible.
Last night, I think I may have met one of my Spirits in my dreams... He was scruffy, blond-haired, with piercing blue eyes... another person, I'm assuming another spirits, called him Michael. Recently, I had come to the conclusion that my spirits were more than just totems, but guardian angels, as it were. This one was meant for protection. He was Atticus, I had come to understand, but I also understood that he must have more than one name. I also glimpsed at the others too, but only Atticus, only Michael, sticks in my mind now.
Michael, the Archangel. Michael, the protector. Michael, the general. How odd to see him in the betwixt of consciousness and unconsciousness. I did not wake definitely: I slipped in and out as if on medication, but I remember his face, and another's voice.
If you stare at a jet above a windstorm, the windstorm stops being terrible.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
To live a Dream...
I don't know of any of you guys have made or kept resolutions, but i can tell you i have been having trouble even defining my new resolution. I don't wan to not make a resolution; I think one of the best parts about myself is that I strive to become ever better. Strive to morph evermore. That's why I started blogging in the first place.
So the words for this year...: commitments to belief.
One thing I have long since realized is that I am a man of dreams. I spend my days lost in another reality. Dawn-to-dusk, I have devoted my eyes to my blue walls and blue skies, watching my white ceiling and white clouds. But I have been so lost in them... I've become lazy. I've let myself fall everywhere; mentally, I'm less astute. Personally, I'm less discipline. Spiritually, I've lost conviction and perseverance. I've become, in my own light... useless to my own salvation.
But no more. I've feared standing for anything because I've been afraid to be wrong. No matter what I've been looking for, no matter what dreams I've dreamed, I've looked at the meaning, the work behind it, and I've grown weary, even before I take the first step. I can't live like that anymore. I can't live so disgusted with lack of knowledge. I can never be anything... if I never act on faith. I keep analyzing, analyzing, dreaming, analyzing, doubting, abandoning my own ideas, my own goals, my own ability to watch those blank walls and and changing skies... ignoring my world and the needs it asks of me, and, in a way, ignoring my own potential.
But no more. No more.
This year, I've made one resolution: Commitment to my belief, but I'm taking my dreams seriously too.
Seriously enough to live them out. Seriously enough to act on them, following them into the places I'd otherwise be too afraid to go.
So the words for this year...: commitments to belief.
One thing I have long since realized is that I am a man of dreams. I spend my days lost in another reality. Dawn-to-dusk, I have devoted my eyes to my blue walls and blue skies, watching my white ceiling and white clouds. But I have been so lost in them... I've become lazy. I've let myself fall everywhere; mentally, I'm less astute. Personally, I'm less discipline. Spiritually, I've lost conviction and perseverance. I've become, in my own light... useless to my own salvation.
But no more. I've feared standing for anything because I've been afraid to be wrong. No matter what I've been looking for, no matter what dreams I've dreamed, I've looked at the meaning, the work behind it, and I've grown weary, even before I take the first step. I can't live like that anymore. I can't live so disgusted with lack of knowledge. I can never be anything... if I never act on faith. I keep analyzing, analyzing, dreaming, analyzing, doubting, abandoning my own ideas, my own goals, my own ability to watch those blank walls and and changing skies... ignoring my world and the needs it asks of me, and, in a way, ignoring my own potential.
But no more. No more.
This year, I've made one resolution: Commitment to my belief, but I'm taking my dreams seriously too.
Seriously enough to live them out. Seriously enough to act on them, following them into the places I'd otherwise be too afraid to go.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Homecoming
"I'm coming Home,
I'm coming Home,
Tell the World I'm coming Home,
Let the rain,
Wash away,
All the pain of yesterday,
I know my Kingdom awaits,
And they've forgiven my mistakes,
I'm coming Home,
I'm coming Home,
Tell the World I'm coming Home."
The declaration of Skyler Grey does not belong to the female duo alone, nor to P. Diddy when he recorded the song. Nevertheless, those words announce a sunrise of Hope; a sunrise of Strength.
These past few weeks have been some of the most trying morally and physically. As I descend into the abyss, I have found no shortage of trials and deterrents as I seek passage to the furthest point of this journey: Spiritual Continuity. Though, at this point, the journey isn't even close to its conclusion, I've learned much about myself... but I have wronged one of my other Spirits.
My Spirits are a God-send. All three have been entrusted to me for protection and expression. I have simply been afraid to use all of them. I've doubted myself. I've devalued myself. I've got to bring myself back. I've got to continue.
“I don’t know if I continue, even today, always liking myself. But what I learned to do many years ago was to forgive myself. It is very important for every human being to forgive herself or himself because if you live, you will make mistakes-- It is inevitable. But once you do and you see the mistake then you forgive yourself and say, ‘well if I’d known better I’d done better,’ that’s all. So you say to people who you think you may have injured, ‘I’m sorry,’ and then you say to yourself, ‘I’m sorry.’ If we all hold on to the mistake, we can’t see our own glory in the mirror because we have the mistake between our faces and the mirror; we can’t see what we’re capable of being. You can ask forgiveness of others, but in the end the real forgiveness is in one’s own self. I think that young men and women are so caught by the way they see themselves. Now mind you. When a larger society sees them as unattractive, as threats, as too black or too white or too poor or too fat or too thin or too sexual or too asexual, that’s rough. But you can overcome that. The real difficulty is to overcome how you think about yourself. If we don’t have that w never grow, we never learn, and sure as hell we should never teach.”--Maya Angelou.
I'm sorry, God, for running from you. For retreating into the hypothetical and theoretical and philosophical and psychological in an attempt to escape from you. I'm sorry, Holy Spirit, for resisting you. For rattling against your grip, trying to drown you out with fallacious reasoning, trying to drive you out with acts of spite. I am sorry, Israel, for holding you back. For calling us stupid when you show yourself, for putting my hands over your lips when you want to speak what we all know, when only you had the courage to say and do it as it is.
Up to this point, I've not had a resolution for the new year. I have one now: to better utilize my Spirits hear on earth, to continue to push through the noise to my dreams, and to connect with the God here, now, before me, behind me, to my left and right... and Inside of me...
So, Diddy.... Take us Home :)
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