Moving!

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!

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.

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

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.