I am convinced that we can learn from nature which we constantly overlook this time of year as we stay inside as much as we can to shield ourselves from the chill. A theme that developed in my mind last fall finally emerged...
Less than two weeks my friends, less than two weeks. I am not sure what to do with myself.
Well, here goes:
the trees catch flame
as soon as the heat fades.
they burn bright, consumed
until they go out in a blaze of glory.
only to be left bare,
left naked in the cold
to remind us of their gaunt limbs
that are covered year-round.
forgotten beneath their lush, verdant beauty
exposed without a place to hide
yet all the more beautiful--
strong, in their weakest season
to endure the harshest conditions.
with hope, with hope--
after the white desert melts away,
after the treacherous winter,
must come spring.
winter takes its toll
many wither and fade
the pangs of cold overpower
desolate; life is distant
rooted in memory
bereft of breath
yet life thrives in the deathly quiet
forced to vacate the safety of the umbrage
the last leaves hold fast
they cling to the limbs
as a young child to a mother
yet they are released into the wind
not as tears, but to remind us all
to shed our cover, our shame
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
in your periphery
who could have foretold
the friendship we have made
the paths we trod are so different
at times we walk in the same shadows
i don't know if you saw me there,
next to you--you thought you were alone
i saw you fall--you wouldn't take my hand
as you shook of the dust and pressed on
i confess to you, but i think you know
the streaks on my face were not from the rain
i saw you run when you had nothing left
i saw you laugh in the light for them
don't think i didn't see the sadness in your eyes
your strength is your only weakness
let your weakness be your strength
i saw you heal their wounds
with the beauty of your soul
as you gave all your love
then shuddered, shivered in the cold
hoping to one day be loved
you poured yourself out
and took nothing in
let me fill your shoes for awhile
and carry the burden you think i can't see
my heart is heavy from bearing it with you
i'd do anything to steal your pain
don't wither away
don't let the ghosts of your past haunt you
don't forget who you are
don't give up on love
stop
let yourself be filled
so that you can dance again
upon hope without pain
the friendship we have made
the paths we trod are so different
at times we walk in the same shadows
i don't know if you saw me there,
next to you--you thought you were alone
i saw you fall--you wouldn't take my hand
as you shook of the dust and pressed on
i confess to you, but i think you know
the streaks on my face were not from the rain
i saw you run when you had nothing left
i saw you laugh in the light for them
don't think i didn't see the sadness in your eyes
your strength is your only weakness
let your weakness be your strength
i saw you heal their wounds
with the beauty of your soul
as you gave all your love
then shuddered, shivered in the cold
hoping to one day be loved
you poured yourself out
and took nothing in
let me fill your shoes for awhile
and carry the burden you think i can't see
my heart is heavy from bearing it with you
i'd do anything to steal your pain
don't wither away
don't let the ghosts of your past haunt you
don't forget who you are
don't give up on love
stop
let yourself be filled
so that you can dance again
upon hope without pain
untitled
I don't know why I'm posting this. I don't know why I've written it. I don't know why there's bad rhyme in it when I don't like to rhyme. I don't know why I'm being open. I don't know why I can't come to terms with leaving. Well here goes. It's not well written it just spilled out of me.
Tell me there's something wrong with me
That I'm blowing things out of proportion
Right now I can't think or see clearly
Flooded by tears and emotion
Tell me it's going to be all right
That really I'm just confused
I long to hide in the night
And in its peace find refuge
Tell me that later I'll laugh
That I shouldn't worry
As I move across the map
Will you remember me?
Tell me I shouldn't feel this way
That I needn't cling
You're a rainbow in a day of gray
Please please won't you sing?
I can't shake the thought of losing you
Whether it's just for now or forever
Its all the same
And I can't, I won't, forget
Tell me we'll meet again
Tell me that it will be the same
Tell me that time doesn't change
Tell me you'll be all right
I can't shake the thought of losing you
Whether it's just for now or forever
Its all the same
And I can't, I won't, forget
Tell me there's something wrong with me
That I'm blowing things out of proportion
Right now I can't think or see clearly
Flooded by tears and emotion
Tell me it's going to be all right
That really I'm just confused
I long to hide in the night
And in its peace find refuge
Tell me that later I'll laugh
That I shouldn't worry
As I move across the map
Will you remember me?
Tell me I shouldn't feel this way
That I needn't cling
You're a rainbow in a day of gray
Please please won't you sing?
I can't shake the thought of losing you
Whether it's just for now or forever
Its all the same
And I can't, I won't, forget
Tell me we'll meet again
Tell me that it will be the same
Tell me that time doesn't change
Tell me you'll be all right
I can't shake the thought of losing you
Whether it's just for now or forever
Its all the same
And I can't, I won't, forget
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Dan in Real Life
When I saw the preview for “Dan in Real Life” it looked like a decent family movie, easy to watch as it seemed to exude warmth and laughs. I thought I might go watch it but it did not strike me as a movie I would go out of the way to see but I was curious about Steve Carell. I thought of him as a funny actor after seeing him in Anchorman as the hilariously stupid “Brick” and yet was surprised when I watched “Little Miss Sunshine.” He did very well at playing the depressed-and-suicidal-because-of-unrequited-love professor, he was human and sensitive.
Personally, I hate those kinds of movies where you spend the whole movie worrying, grimacing, and flinching for the protagonist because they do dumb stuff and of course everything possible goes wrong. Perfect example? –“Meet the Parents.” True it has its funny moments but for me it is not an enjoyable film. Yet, watching the main character in “Dan in Real Life” is bearable because he is so human and you can identify with his struggles and frustrations. He finds himself in incredibly awkward situations and everyone in his family seems to be frustrated with him, including his kids. Yet this takes place in a family reunion vacation so he cannot escape the glares, sighs, and comments.
He does it to himself. What do you do about love when your brother is dating the one you cannot quit thinking about? Yet it is this that helps him understand and identify with his daughter as they go through similar feelings that he may have forgotten. It is about love and family and how the first almost causes him to destroy his relationships with the latter. But it is the family that truly loves and picks you up and continues to support you even though you have neglected them. It is the beautiful irony that he is an advice columnist that seems to flow with wisdom about family life that sets the foundation for the frustrations and questions. Why is it that he can so easily say the right things to anyone outside his family, but when it comes to his daughters he is constantly messing up?
Steve Carell plays a believable, likeable, vulnerable character. At one point at the family’s talent show he is playing a song with his brother, Dane Cook who’s trying to impress his newfound love, and adds a verse at the end—his voice is trembling and weak and it wrenches your heart. I almost cried, but I fought it. Something about the real sadness at that moment, he seems to let on for the first time about the pain of losing his wife.
Dane Cook surprised me too. He plays the typical shallow brother that always has it going with the ladies but he is down to earth and likeable as well. What I could not figure out was him with Juliette Binoche, she seemed to look way older than him. Also, sometimes I felt like some of the scenes she was laughing at Steve Carell the actor and not the character if that makes any sense. My other objection is the way the movie ended as it seemed to avoid the conflict of the awkwardness of Steve Carell successfully stealing his brother’s girlfriend. It seems that through the movie Dane is trying hard and moving away from his playboy ways and then reluctantly settles for returning to his old ways. Steve approaches him to apologize and he says, “hold that thought” and goes for the convertible driving chica that had been Steve’s date previously. I know that they had to end the story somehow but somehow I think this could have been dealt with differently.
I recommend this fun, family oriented movie. It is clean without any profanities that I can remember and minor sexual references that are tame compared to most any movie out there.
Personally, I hate those kinds of movies where you spend the whole movie worrying, grimacing, and flinching for the protagonist because they do dumb stuff and of course everything possible goes wrong. Perfect example? –“Meet the Parents.” True it has its funny moments but for me it is not an enjoyable film. Yet, watching the main character in “Dan in Real Life” is bearable because he is so human and you can identify with his struggles and frustrations. He finds himself in incredibly awkward situations and everyone in his family seems to be frustrated with him, including his kids. Yet this takes place in a family reunion vacation so he cannot escape the glares, sighs, and comments.
He does it to himself. What do you do about love when your brother is dating the one you cannot quit thinking about? Yet it is this that helps him understand and identify with his daughter as they go through similar feelings that he may have forgotten. It is about love and family and how the first almost causes him to destroy his relationships with the latter. But it is the family that truly loves and picks you up and continues to support you even though you have neglected them. It is the beautiful irony that he is an advice columnist that seems to flow with wisdom about family life that sets the foundation for the frustrations and questions. Why is it that he can so easily say the right things to anyone outside his family, but when it comes to his daughters he is constantly messing up?
Steve Carell plays a believable, likeable, vulnerable character. At one point at the family’s talent show he is playing a song with his brother, Dane Cook who’s trying to impress his newfound love, and adds a verse at the end—his voice is trembling and weak and it wrenches your heart. I almost cried, but I fought it. Something about the real sadness at that moment, he seems to let on for the first time about the pain of losing his wife.
Dane Cook surprised me too. He plays the typical shallow brother that always has it going with the ladies but he is down to earth and likeable as well. What I could not figure out was him with Juliette Binoche, she seemed to look way older than him. Also, sometimes I felt like some of the scenes she was laughing at Steve Carell the actor and not the character if that makes any sense. My other objection is the way the movie ended as it seemed to avoid the conflict of the awkwardness of Steve Carell successfully stealing his brother’s girlfriend. It seems that through the movie Dane is trying hard and moving away from his playboy ways and then reluctantly settles for returning to his old ways. Steve approaches him to apologize and he says, “hold that thought” and goes for the convertible driving chica that had been Steve’s date previously. I know that they had to end the story somehow but somehow I think this could have been dealt with differently.
I recommend this fun, family oriented movie. It is clean without any profanities that I can remember and minor sexual references that are tame compared to most any movie out there.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Catch
Sometimes I feel like we are playing a game of catch. Catch requires a minimum of two people working together to create a flow of catch and release. We throw the ball differently each time—although the people that do it for a living have a machine-like precision—which usually requires the other person to adjust. (Now, bear with me as I try explain this silly little metaphor which is actually more of a picture in my head that popped in there a few years ago and some reason had lay dormant until now.)
Suppose we are playing this game with our dad for the first time. He is ever patient with us, encouraging us so that we do not despair and give up. We look stupid as we fumble the ball and drop it the first million times he throws it to us. He says, “Don’t worry about it son, have your hands ready and keep your eye on the ball” as he throws it so that it requires little of us to actually catch it. When kids first learn they have to develop their reflexes—how many of us have seen kids grab at the ball in the air after it’s already landed? Then we learn what to do with our hands, you cannot have them stiff otherwise either your fingers get jammed and hurt for weeks or it just bounces off. They have to be relaxed and yet ready to snap, grab, and cradle at the right moment.
Once we get the hang of it—you know, when we get really good and there is not much that can wipe that huge grin off of our face—he changes it up a little. He starts throwing it at different distances with more or less power and speed. We go, “what am I supposed to do now?” as the ball no longer lands in our hands but five feet in front of us. Soon we begin to figure it out, “oh, I actually have to move to the ball now.” This makes it all the more complex, having to figure out how to factor in all of these things—you know, wind chill factor, not running into trees, not tripping on roots or sprinklers, and so on and so forth. Then to make things worse—or better?—he throws it harder and it comes at you faster than you can say ouch and it hurts more than a dozen bee stings. As your hands swell and throb he then throws so high up that you cannot help but wince as you squint into the sun and can only hope it does not hit you in the face.
Then he says, “Go long!” And off we run.
Why am I so rigid?
Why are my legs so stiff?
Why is it like my feet have buried themselves underneath the grass and have taken root?
Why am I so reticent?
Why can’t you throw the ball right to me where I want it?
You mean I have to run? But I’m tired, my hands sting, my lungs burn, my legs feel like they are going to give out—or rather, they will if I choose to go for it. What do you mean I can do it? How do you know? What? You’ve done it? You’ve been in my place and know how it is? Is that how you are so patient and good at coaching me along in this?
He knows what we are capable of and thus pushes us beyond what we though we could do. It is hard for me to believe that he knows these things, but I have to. I have to just believe that my little legs will take me the distance, the only thing spurring me on is his voice. In the end, I want to know that I ran as hard as I could to try and make the catch to make him happy. He knows how much I can handle and if I do not make it, maybe I did not push hard enough. I do know that when I trip on my own feet or get clothes-lined by a branch or just plain screw it up that he loves me all the same. Then when I am sweaty and thirsty, “hey, good job out there, lets get some lemonade.”
Suppose we are playing this game with our dad for the first time. He is ever patient with us, encouraging us so that we do not despair and give up. We look stupid as we fumble the ball and drop it the first million times he throws it to us. He says, “Don’t worry about it son, have your hands ready and keep your eye on the ball” as he throws it so that it requires little of us to actually catch it. When kids first learn they have to develop their reflexes—how many of us have seen kids grab at the ball in the air after it’s already landed? Then we learn what to do with our hands, you cannot have them stiff otherwise either your fingers get jammed and hurt for weeks or it just bounces off. They have to be relaxed and yet ready to snap, grab, and cradle at the right moment.
Once we get the hang of it—you know, when we get really good and there is not much that can wipe that huge grin off of our face—he changes it up a little. He starts throwing it at different distances with more or less power and speed. We go, “what am I supposed to do now?” as the ball no longer lands in our hands but five feet in front of us. Soon we begin to figure it out, “oh, I actually have to move to the ball now.” This makes it all the more complex, having to figure out how to factor in all of these things—you know, wind chill factor, not running into trees, not tripping on roots or sprinklers, and so on and so forth. Then to make things worse—or better?—he throws it harder and it comes at you faster than you can say ouch and it hurts more than a dozen bee stings. As your hands swell and throb he then throws so high up that you cannot help but wince as you squint into the sun and can only hope it does not hit you in the face.
Then he says, “Go long!” And off we run.
Why am I so rigid?
Why are my legs so stiff?
Why is it like my feet have buried themselves underneath the grass and have taken root?
Why am I so reticent?
Why can’t you throw the ball right to me where I want it?
You mean I have to run? But I’m tired, my hands sting, my lungs burn, my legs feel like they are going to give out—or rather, they will if I choose to go for it. What do you mean I can do it? How do you know? What? You’ve done it? You’ve been in my place and know how it is? Is that how you are so patient and good at coaching me along in this?
He knows what we are capable of and thus pushes us beyond what we though we could do. It is hard for me to believe that he knows these things, but I have to. I have to just believe that my little legs will take me the distance, the only thing spurring me on is his voice. In the end, I want to know that I ran as hard as I could to try and make the catch to make him happy. He knows how much I can handle and if I do not make it, maybe I did not push hard enough. I do know that when I trip on my own feet or get clothes-lined by a branch or just plain screw it up that he loves me all the same. Then when I am sweaty and thirsty, “hey, good job out there, lets get some lemonade.”
#23
I watched the Number 23 the other day because when I saw the previews for it in the theater it seemed intriguing. I have also always been interested in Jim Carrey's abilities to play different kinds of roles outside of Ace Ventura and other slapstick stuff.
This is a movie of obsession and paranoia that drives the person crazy. Carrey plays a pet control guy who goes after a dog that gets away from him. This makes him late for picking up his wife who while waiting wanders into a bookstore called something like "the book of fate" which of course is kind of foreshadowing. Her eye is caught by a red book on the shelf in the back with the same name as the movie. The author? Toppsy Kretts. She reads the book and when Carrey gets there she tells him to buy it and read it. He laughs it off but does so anyway. This begins the tale.
From then on he can't seem to get it out of his mind. He wants to keep on reading, and the obsession begins as he seems to identify with the narrator. So many parallels make him wonder and begin to dig through his past. He also notices that the number 23 really does show up everywhere like in the book. His birthday, SSN, the house #, all of them either have the number in it or add up to it.
I could keep going but it would take too long to recap the movie. The obsession drives him crazy and makes him paranoid as he dreams of himself killing his wife or that he is being taken advantage of. It is an entertaining movie as it shifts between Fingerling--the character in the book--and the real Jim Carrey. It is a little surprising at how many things contain the number twenty-three but when you think about it really is inconsistent. They sometimes add numbers up, sometimes you reverse them, sometimes you are dividing or multiplying. Basically, if you look hard enough you can find a way to make almost anything add up to 23.
Also, the movie ends with Jim Carrey saying that it is just a number as if to explain it all away and that he is over his obsession. Yet the whole movie is tied together on fate. He was destined for what happened to him. The reason his wife finds the book is that he was late. The reason he was late was because the dog delayed him. The dog was witness to his murder. So, what really is the point of the movie? It seems as if it is clarified at the end when the scripture verse Numbers 32:23 is shown which reads: "...and you may be sure that your sin will find you out." Yet that contradicts with how the narrator concludes. Only leaving us with questions.
I liked the way the movie is shot. Its very cool and artsy and dark. In the least it was entertaining, but I don't know if I would recommend it.
I felt dumb when I realized what "Topsy Kretts" really meant. Sounds a lot like Top Secret(s). Duh.
This is a movie of obsession and paranoia that drives the person crazy. Carrey plays a pet control guy who goes after a dog that gets away from him. This makes him late for picking up his wife who while waiting wanders into a bookstore called something like "the book of fate" which of course is kind of foreshadowing. Her eye is caught by a red book on the shelf in the back with the same name as the movie. The author? Toppsy Kretts. She reads the book and when Carrey gets there she tells him to buy it and read it. He laughs it off but does so anyway. This begins the tale.
From then on he can't seem to get it out of his mind. He wants to keep on reading, and the obsession begins as he seems to identify with the narrator. So many parallels make him wonder and begin to dig through his past. He also notices that the number 23 really does show up everywhere like in the book. His birthday, SSN, the house #, all of them either have the number in it or add up to it.
I could keep going but it would take too long to recap the movie. The obsession drives him crazy and makes him paranoid as he dreams of himself killing his wife or that he is being taken advantage of. It is an entertaining movie as it shifts between Fingerling--the character in the book--and the real Jim Carrey. It is a little surprising at how many things contain the number twenty-three but when you think about it really is inconsistent. They sometimes add numbers up, sometimes you reverse them, sometimes you are dividing or multiplying. Basically, if you look hard enough you can find a way to make almost anything add up to 23.
Also, the movie ends with Jim Carrey saying that it is just a number as if to explain it all away and that he is over his obsession. Yet the whole movie is tied together on fate. He was destined for what happened to him. The reason his wife finds the book is that he was late. The reason he was late was because the dog delayed him. The dog was witness to his murder. So, what really is the point of the movie? It seems as if it is clarified at the end when the scripture verse Numbers 32:23 is shown which reads: "...and you may be sure that your sin will find you out." Yet that contradicts with how the narrator concludes. Only leaving us with questions.
I liked the way the movie is shot. Its very cool and artsy and dark. In the least it was entertaining, but I don't know if I would recommend it.
I felt dumb when I realized what "Topsy Kretts" really meant. Sounds a lot like Top Secret(s). Duh.
bluelikejazz
I picked up the book Blue Like Jazz at the beginning of last week simply because I had heard so much about it. It seemed like everyone was reading it so I decided to see what the big deal was. Honestly, I did not want to like this book but I did. The author's candid honesty and humor just make the book flow very well and make it so that you never want to put it down. Sounds like a cheap action novel doesn't it?
I would call it autobiographical in a sense, which I was really not expecting when I picked it up. He is very willing to admit his mistakes and sometimes surprises you with the comments he makes about people and the thoughts he was having. I wonder if the people that he knew when they read the book were offended or surprised at all. Who knows?
I like that he is willing to grapple with questions of our faith that so many of us have and is real about it. It appeals to our postmodern generation that is no longer satisfied with facts but we want to feel what we believe. I think that many of us can easily identify with his writing. It got me when he said that we all love ourselves too much and are not good at loving others. At the same time he says we have to love ourselves in the right way and be willing to accept love if we are to truly be able to love. I thought, man, how true!
His struggles are real. A lot of us have trouble knowing how to share our faith or are scared of what people will say or ask us.
I like how he does not have it all together and how he's always learning, learning from the people you would least expect it. I like how he talks about getting a beer and smoking a pipe--yes Christians do this! Christians think they cannot do it or people think that Christians judge them for doing that. This guy Don Miller is real, he has been through the fundamentalist stage and made it out alive. He understands that our faith is something we share and live out. He has a sense of humor and is artistic. He is willing to listen but does not stray from Jesus being the only truth.
I would call it autobiographical in a sense, which I was really not expecting when I picked it up. He is very willing to admit his mistakes and sometimes surprises you with the comments he makes about people and the thoughts he was having. I wonder if the people that he knew when they read the book were offended or surprised at all. Who knows?
I like that he is willing to grapple with questions of our faith that so many of us have and is real about it. It appeals to our postmodern generation that is no longer satisfied with facts but we want to feel what we believe. I think that many of us can easily identify with his writing. It got me when he said that we all love ourselves too much and are not good at loving others. At the same time he says we have to love ourselves in the right way and be willing to accept love if we are to truly be able to love. I thought, man, how true!
His struggles are real. A lot of us have trouble knowing how to share our faith or are scared of what people will say or ask us.
I like how he does not have it all together and how he's always learning, learning from the people you would least expect it. I like how he talks about getting a beer and smoking a pipe--yes Christians do this! Christians think they cannot do it or people think that Christians judge them for doing that. This guy Don Miller is real, he has been through the fundamentalist stage and made it out alive. He understands that our faith is something we share and live out. He has a sense of humor and is artistic. He is willing to listen but does not stray from Jesus being the only truth.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
July 7, 2006 - No Longer
No Longer
*Kind of an ironic time to post this, considering I'm far away. But it was time to post something (that I wrote awhile ago when it would have made more sense) since it has been awhile.* (Pardon the overusage of the phrase "no longer")
Wave to the tide
It no longer conceals your eyes--
they say more than I ever hoped for
a glance takes us to a place where dream and reality collide
no longer faceless silhouettes searching in the night
wave to the tide
I no longer wait for it to bring word from your shore
in bottled messages I no longer confide
wave to the tide
with it goes the doubts we couldn't hide
your eyes
your eyes
your eyes mend the most tattered soul
*Kind of an ironic time to post this, considering I'm far away. But it was time to post something (that I wrote awhile ago when it would have made more sense) since it has been awhile.* (Pardon the overusage of the phrase "no longer")
Wave to the tide
It no longer conceals your eyes--
they say more than I ever hoped for
a glance takes us to a place where dream and reality collide
no longer faceless silhouettes searching in the night
wave to the tide
I no longer wait for it to bring word from your shore
in bottled messages I no longer confide
wave to the tide
with it goes the doubts we couldn't hide
your eyes
your eyes
your eyes mend the most tattered soul
May 21, 2006 - Michelle
Michelle
for my sister Michelle...written...perhaps a year ago, just found it again.
I wish you knew
How much I respect you
For your happiness through the struggle
That reduces so many to rubble
We get lost in eloquence
Arranging words in perfect sequence
So much more difficult for you
Placed by God in conditions you can’t undo
and blessed with a double portion
of the greatest beyond emotion –
amazing patience and love
that you continually show us.
Even when we don’t understand
Or give your words second chance
What saddens me is that you may never know
The depth of admiration I could never show
Sorry I haven’t tried harder to listen and identify
Through you God has elected to testify
To teach so much more than the most erudite
I wonder what other truth you hide;
any other answers for you to illumine
in this darkness where we forget what it is to be human?
for my sister Michelle...written...perhaps a year ago, just found it again.
I wish you knew
How much I respect you
For your happiness through the struggle
That reduces so many to rubble
We get lost in eloquence
Arranging words in perfect sequence
So much more difficult for you
Placed by God in conditions you can’t undo
and blessed with a double portion
of the greatest beyond emotion –
amazing patience and love
that you continually show us.
Even when we don’t understand
Or give your words second chance
What saddens me is that you may never know
The depth of admiration I could never show
Sorry I haven’t tried harder to listen and identify
Through you God has elected to testify
To teach so much more than the most erudite
I wonder what other truth you hide;
any other answers for you to illumine
in this darkness where we forget what it is to be human?
May 15, 2006
Please pardon the lack of paragraphs.
For sometime now I have been reflecting on what it means to be a Christ-ian. Actually, no, I have been thinking about that title. I think that it is in fact, powerful but we do not think about it, hardly ever--at least I do not until recently. I would say that it has been corrupted because of lack of attention. An Evangelical Christian tends to refer to someone "born again", rescued from damnation by Christ's expiation of sins by grace granted to us. Once born again, one enters into "shar[ing] in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light" (Colossians 1:12). It seems that today what is important to people is entering into this community of believers, as if you have a new identity because you are now a part of this group. This brotherhood is powerful, it is a place where can learn from each other because we find our identity in Christ. To me, Christian means identifying myself with and in Christ which supersedes all other forms of identity, I am made new. Now, at this point you are nodding your head and saying “yes you are stating the obvious so get on with it.” Yes this is obvious and this is the way it should be, but is it really? Too much of what we do is associated with other followers of Christ and what they do and have done and rather than with the Word, Logos. Too often for one to be a Christian it is almost as if they have to live by the standards set by other Christians because they have established their identity. This seems skewed. It is as if we are forced to have to find our identity within the group of believers before we can find who we really are in Christ. I am not on a mission to bash anyone. I am just realizing how wonderful and powerful this concept is when we call ourselves Christians because I had been thinking about the suffix that comes after Christ. It just reminded me of how we say we are for example Italian and the –ian suffix means that we identify and associate ourselves with Italy. Yet I see a problem with using this as an example, because when you think of an Italian you will think of the other Italians you have met and the general stereotyped understanding of them rather than something deeper. I also want to make clear that I am not fighting against community, I just think it is sad that the identity of Christ has been tainted by human standards.
Return to your roots
Recall your identity--
Revealed by His Image
Replaced by the Son of Man
Rescued from frail humanity
Redeemed.
For sometime now I have been reflecting on what it means to be a Christ-ian. Actually, no, I have been thinking about that title. I think that it is in fact, powerful but we do not think about it, hardly ever--at least I do not until recently. I would say that it has been corrupted because of lack of attention. An Evangelical Christian tends to refer to someone "born again", rescued from damnation by Christ's expiation of sins by grace granted to us. Once born again, one enters into "shar[ing] in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light" (Colossians 1:12). It seems that today what is important to people is entering into this community of believers, as if you have a new identity because you are now a part of this group. This brotherhood is powerful, it is a place where can learn from each other because we find our identity in Christ. To me, Christian means identifying myself with and in Christ which supersedes all other forms of identity, I am made new. Now, at this point you are nodding your head and saying “yes you are stating the obvious so get on with it.” Yes this is obvious and this is the way it should be, but is it really? Too much of what we do is associated with other followers of Christ and what they do and have done and rather than with the Word, Logos. Too often for one to be a Christian it is almost as if they have to live by the standards set by other Christians because they have established their identity. This seems skewed. It is as if we are forced to have to find our identity within the group of believers before we can find who we really are in Christ. I am not on a mission to bash anyone. I am just realizing how wonderful and powerful this concept is when we call ourselves Christians because I had been thinking about the suffix that comes after Christ. It just reminded me of how we say we are for example Italian and the –ian suffix means that we identify and associate ourselves with Italy. Yet I see a problem with using this as an example, because when you think of an Italian you will think of the other Italians you have met and the general stereotyped understanding of them rather than something deeper. I also want to make clear that I am not fighting against community, I just think it is sad that the identity of Christ has been tainted by human standards.
Return to your roots
Recall your identity--
Revealed by His Image
Replaced by the Son of Man
Rescued from frail humanity
Redeemed.
May 06, 2006
I've been thinking about how melancholy--especially in nature--seems so beautiful and somehow resonates with my inner being. Each person is probably drawn to different aspects of nature or what they consider beautiful. I also have been thinking about how so much poetry is descriptive and while that is beautiful, much of it is more than that because it describes something else. In sum, sometimes we may really be drawn to various scenes of nature, because it is in fact an image of our soul or our inner condition. Maybe this is excessively introspect or self-revealing but this came about as I was trying to figure out why I will start out describing something and tie in these other elements at the end of a poem.
Blogs are whatever you make them right? Ok, so here goes for random on a very different note. My other thought for the day:
This is a very loose and weird analogy. Today I began to think that our faith or relationship with God is like brushing our teeth. At least for me. I know this has its weak points, but let me explain why I began to think this. The actual brushing and other teeth care stuff is comparable with praying, reading your Bible, be real with God...plain seeking after Him and growing in your faith. Sometimes I can go for awhile without really doing any of that and think that I'm doing pretty well, not brushing my teeth but avoiding eating sweets and things that will give me cavities and are bad for my teeth. Yet, this is still bad. On the other hand, there are the times in life when I take very good care of my teeth as far as cleaning yet go crazy on things that hurt them like the aforementioned "sweets and things". So that's not good either because my teeth are still not being treated well. So I could expand further, but that's as far as I wish to take it for now. This is pretty lame, but I thought I would post it as it was such a random thought that came to me as I was sitting in the car.
By the way, I love it when people leave you a comment on your blog to say hi but don't read what you write. I am guilty of it, but I try not to.
*******Added (5/14/2006)********
P.S.
Reflecting on what I wrote I realized what I sounded like with my final comment. I think I owe an apology because it was not nice in its tone. I think I was frustrated and I realize, yes it is hard if you want to communicate with someone or in a hurry or just want to say hi. I was frustrated because I seek feedback on what I write, more so on what may seem less accessible to people--poetry. Then I thought about how it is selfish to think that people should take the time to try and figure out what you are writing about and reflect on it. I also admire those that just write, they do not need people's comments. They write freely and confidently and there is no dependency. Thank you all of you for everything. And sorry if I was rude.
Blogs are whatever you make them right? Ok, so here goes for random on a very different note. My other thought for the day:
This is a very loose and weird analogy. Today I began to think that our faith or relationship with God is like brushing our teeth. At least for me. I know this has its weak points, but let me explain why I began to think this. The actual brushing and other teeth care stuff is comparable with praying, reading your Bible, be real with God...plain seeking after Him and growing in your faith. Sometimes I can go for awhile without really doing any of that and think that I'm doing pretty well, not brushing my teeth but avoiding eating sweets and things that will give me cavities and are bad for my teeth. Yet, this is still bad. On the other hand, there are the times in life when I take very good care of my teeth as far as cleaning yet go crazy on things that hurt them like the aforementioned "sweets and things". So that's not good either because my teeth are still not being treated well. So I could expand further, but that's as far as I wish to take it for now. This is pretty lame, but I thought I would post it as it was such a random thought that came to me as I was sitting in the car.
By the way, I love it when people leave you a comment on your blog to say hi but don't read what you write. I am guilty of it, but I try not to.
*******Added (5/14/2006)********
P.S.
Reflecting on what I wrote I realized what I sounded like with my final comment. I think I owe an apology because it was not nice in its tone. I think I was frustrated and I realize, yes it is hard if you want to communicate with someone or in a hurry or just want to say hi. I was frustrated because I seek feedback on what I write, more so on what may seem less accessible to people--poetry. Then I thought about how it is selfish to think that people should take the time to try and figure out what you are writing about and reflect on it. I also admire those that just write, they do not need people's comments. They write freely and confidently and there is no dependency. Thank you all of you for everything. And sorry if I was rude.
April 21, 2006 - Memories
[setting: koh samet december 2005]
The waves tire of trying to reach the shore
The confident roar replaced by weary sighs
The complexion of the coast fades
Heat gives way to melancholy breeze
Pale incandescence shudders on the quivering obsidian sea
Memories strewn across the blindfold
Scattered lights as spilt glitter haunt the silhouette
Faint intermittent glimpses from the outside
Bright enough to mesmerize
The shards of past out of reach yet in sight
Placed by you and me
Each as a glowing flare
Testimony to all we shared
For now I gaze at these memories
Wondering if on the other side, you see
The waves tire of trying to reach the shore
The confident roar replaced by weary sighs
The complexion of the coast fades
Heat gives way to melancholy breeze
Pale incandescence shudders on the quivering obsidian sea
Memories strewn across the blindfold
Scattered lights as spilt glitter haunt the silhouette
Faint intermittent glimpses from the outside
Bright enough to mesmerize
The shards of past out of reach yet in sight
Placed by you and me
Each as a glowing flare
Testimony to all we shared
For now I gaze at these memories
Wondering if on the other side, you see
March 28, 2006 - Sequestered Souls
sequestered souls
tonight the sky was dark
there was a gash in her veil
a lighter blue of topaz shone through the night's torn fabric
revealing a wound unknown, unseen, unfelt
stumbling through the dark
the mist glistened in the sparse light
the shadows, they just listened
as they sought refuge behind outstretched arms
a brisk zephyr rushed by
numbing all it came into contact with
wounds neglected, not permitted to mend
leaving souls sequestered
alone, in vessels that refuse to give voice
tonight the sky was dark
there was a gash in her veil
a lighter blue of topaz shone through the night's torn fabric
revealing a wound unknown, unseen, unfelt
stumbling through the dark
the mist glistened in the sparse light
the shadows, they just listened
as they sought refuge behind outstretched arms
a brisk zephyr rushed by
numbing all it came into contact with
wounds neglected, not permitted to mend
leaving souls sequestered
alone, in vessels that refuse to give voice
March 21, 2006
Spiritual Oppression
I had a thought a couple of weeks ago while in discussion with a friend. We were discussing spiritual warfare and eventually got around to the manifestations of it. I began to wonder, in our mindset that is so influenced by the enlightenment thinking of the 18th century, what is the spiritual warfare that goes on in America? As a culture that downplays the supernatural and is so reliant upon what can be proven and worships science, are we blind to spiritual movements because we cannot measure it or see it under the microscope?
At this point, you are thinking about how you have heard this before and this is nothing really new—common sense and something that is trite because we always reference it. My question is this, is the spiritual oppression and warfare that very thing that is so inextricably bound to our thinking—that which explains through reason and scientific proof? I wonder if we limit evil to supernatural phenomena that sends chills down our spines or the essence of fear. Could it be more subtle, giving the slightest nudge that causes us to go in a certain direction in our thinking? Am I giving too much credence to the opposition? I do not know.
Lending to my point/question is another thought that I had, which may again seem so obvious but I had to bring it up and see what others think. In my rumination on the topic of spiritual warfare I wondered about the limitations of spiritual oppressors. I began to think, everything must function under the system in which God created. I do not know if my reasoning is correct, but I see it that since God created the whole universe, everything is ultimately subject to His authority and the setup that He put into play. This led me to think that evil spirits are limited to the laws of physics and everything that holds the universe together. God is the only one that can make something happen that is above that system, one that defies it and happens anyway. He can make things that cannot be explained happen, He can cause miracles and whatever He pleases.
Why is this thinking significant to me? Because, if these thoughts have any sense to them at all it says a lot of science and the modern world. I am wondering that because evil is bound to the universe’s metaphysical system, are its movements occurring right before our eyes but we do not perceive it as such because we can provide a scientific explanation? If this is true, this culture is being struck with a double-whammy. Not choosing to be cognizant of spiritual oppression is of advantage to the enemy because it gives it free reign.
Feedback is very welcome, criticisms encouraged. I want to know what you think and if my thoughts are totally flawed or heretical. I want to grow in my learning and understanding, input from brothers and sisters only helps as we challenge each other. Challenge me.
I had a thought a couple of weeks ago while in discussion with a friend. We were discussing spiritual warfare and eventually got around to the manifestations of it. I began to wonder, in our mindset that is so influenced by the enlightenment thinking of the 18th century, what is the spiritual warfare that goes on in America? As a culture that downplays the supernatural and is so reliant upon what can be proven and worships science, are we blind to spiritual movements because we cannot measure it or see it under the microscope?
At this point, you are thinking about how you have heard this before and this is nothing really new—common sense and something that is trite because we always reference it. My question is this, is the spiritual oppression and warfare that very thing that is so inextricably bound to our thinking—that which explains through reason and scientific proof? I wonder if we limit evil to supernatural phenomena that sends chills down our spines or the essence of fear. Could it be more subtle, giving the slightest nudge that causes us to go in a certain direction in our thinking? Am I giving too much credence to the opposition? I do not know.
Lending to my point/question is another thought that I had, which may again seem so obvious but I had to bring it up and see what others think. In my rumination on the topic of spiritual warfare I wondered about the limitations of spiritual oppressors. I began to think, everything must function under the system in which God created. I do not know if my reasoning is correct, but I see it that since God created the whole universe, everything is ultimately subject to His authority and the setup that He put into play. This led me to think that evil spirits are limited to the laws of physics and everything that holds the universe together. God is the only one that can make something happen that is above that system, one that defies it and happens anyway. He can make things that cannot be explained happen, He can cause miracles and whatever He pleases.
Why is this thinking significant to me? Because, if these thoughts have any sense to them at all it says a lot of science and the modern world. I am wondering that because evil is bound to the universe’s metaphysical system, are its movements occurring right before our eyes but we do not perceive it as such because we can provide a scientific explanation? If this is true, this culture is being struck with a double-whammy. Not choosing to be cognizant of spiritual oppression is of advantage to the enemy because it gives it free reign.
Feedback is very welcome, criticisms encouraged. I want to know what you think and if my thoughts are totally flawed or heretical. I want to grow in my learning and understanding, input from brothers and sisters only helps as we challenge each other. Challenge me.
February 11, 2006
Truth?
Sometimes God implements themes into our lives because we simply cannot seem to see the point He is trying to get across. Looking at it after He has thrown the same thing at you from multiple angles is so interesting--especially when you realize how long it has taken you to finally get it. The current theme is honesty--in who we are and what we do. Christianity has become such an image thing where nobody is real with one another and so we feel so much like failures when it seems like everyone else has "it all together." The Christian image bears little or no verisimilitude. Truth is macabre and so to share it has become a faux pas. Truth will shatter your paradigm, it will break you but you will be so much better for it. So this theme had been running through my life and I was completely cognizant of the fact that I should do something about it. I had proven to be rather adroit in successfully dodging the issue continuously until I grew weary and could hear the ricochets coming closer and closer. Then I heard a speaker talk about how we are so incredibly bound by the gyves of Christian image that we cannot even be honest with God anymore. I was astonished, I could not believe that he was speaking on the topic of honesty because it had been the very thing I had been talking about with people and thinking about. I have come to realize that I had not known how to talk to God for a long time because I did not feel worthy of His grace and had to work out my mistakes on my own before I could approach Him in humility. I thought once I had accomplished that then I could attain the holiness that everyone else seemed to bear. Malarkey--or as some as you might prefer to say, BS!--we are all fallen, we all struggle and we need to share in that together. Quit perpetuating these fallacies.
Where am I going with this, what is my agenda? I have none but to share this self realization because I know that I have little to share that will be perceived as a new thought that moves people to change and am fully aware that this is not a new thought. Just one of those times where something in my life moved for once.
I recognize the banality of the subject as Christians are always seeking to inspire one another and write formulaic answers to stale faith, but how can I help but write of something that has touched me?
A question to end with: when we feign an image and our struggles are so surreptitious, does our worship, prayer and praise become adulation rather than true adoration? I just wonder how we can really fully worship God if we are dishonest withourselves, the community, and Him? Maybe I am wrong, but I see it as showing contempt by giving a blemished sacrifice. I had this thought after reading Malachi.
Sometimes God implements themes into our lives because we simply cannot seem to see the point He is trying to get across. Looking at it after He has thrown the same thing at you from multiple angles is so interesting--especially when you realize how long it has taken you to finally get it. The current theme is honesty--in who we are and what we do. Christianity has become such an image thing where nobody is real with one another and so we feel so much like failures when it seems like everyone else has "it all together." The Christian image bears little or no verisimilitude. Truth is macabre and so to share it has become a faux pas. Truth will shatter your paradigm, it will break you but you will be so much better for it. So this theme had been running through my life and I was completely cognizant of the fact that I should do something about it. I had proven to be rather adroit in successfully dodging the issue continuously until I grew weary and could hear the ricochets coming closer and closer. Then I heard a speaker talk about how we are so incredibly bound by the gyves of Christian image that we cannot even be honest with God anymore. I was astonished, I could not believe that he was speaking on the topic of honesty because it had been the very thing I had been talking about with people and thinking about. I have come to realize that I had not known how to talk to God for a long time because I did not feel worthy of His grace and had to work out my mistakes on my own before I could approach Him in humility. I thought once I had accomplished that then I could attain the holiness that everyone else seemed to bear. Malarkey--or as some as you might prefer to say, BS!--we are all fallen, we all struggle and we need to share in that together. Quit perpetuating these fallacies.
Where am I going with this, what is my agenda? I have none but to share this self realization because I know that I have little to share that will be perceived as a new thought that moves people to change and am fully aware that this is not a new thought. Just one of those times where something in my life moved for once.
I recognize the banality of the subject as Christians are always seeking to inspire one another and write formulaic answers to stale faith, but how can I help but write of something that has touched me?
A question to end with: when we feign an image and our struggles are so surreptitious, does our worship, prayer and praise become adulation rather than true adoration? I just wonder how we can really fully worship God if we are dishonest withourselves, the community, and Him? Maybe I am wrong, but I see it as showing contempt by giving a blemished sacrifice. I had this thought after reading Malachi.
January 23, 2006
I meant to clarify this last time, but it slipped my mind. I just wanted to say that although sometimes what I write may seem to be hopeless, confused, discouraged or have tinges of nihilism, I say all of these things in the context of my faith. At my very core, I know what I believe and I try to do all things based on that foundation. Most of us have struggles in our lives and faith and we have to find our way to resolve them as we seek community with others to share and be broken with so that we can help each other up. Because I know this, I do not feel the need to drop in that line of hope at the end like we tend to do when talking with those that are hurting. It is more real and honest if we say how we really feel and what we really think, because deep down I know God is there in His strength and compassion. I believe that thinkingwriting without acknowledging the pain and simply hiding in hope can stunt your growth. God knows when we are struggling because the Spirit intercedes with groans for us, and for us to not acknowledge what we are going through is not being honest with Him. Choosing to not resolve something completely and just push everything aside is the superficial copout to pain.
I realize that I have made many assumptions and so at least one of them is clarified. I feel right now I should insert a personal creed or declaration of faith that people can refer to, hehe.
Thanks to all who posted things in response to my last blog, it really is nice to get your support and encouragement. Yes, we all have a VISA (for travel, not creditcard) for earth, but we don't know when it will expire because our citizenship is elsewhere. (talk about cheeziness...hey, I'm corny, can I help it?)
Thus I will conclude with something I wrote in high-school on my senior trip. I have been never been satisfied with it, always feeling incomplete and unsure how to finish it, but I feel like posting something uplifting for once.
I gaze upon the blood red sky
It's ethereal incandescent beauty sends a chill down my spine
The haunting liturgical chant of the crickets lingers in the background
As the leaves gently whisper secrets into the wind
Crippled by veneration for your majesty
Overwhelmed with awe I am left mute
Surounded by your careful design,
To everything else around I am blind.
Surrounded by your glory
Only you can I see
I realize that I have made many assumptions and so at least one of them is clarified. I feel right now I should insert a personal creed or declaration of faith that people can refer to, hehe.
Thanks to all who posted things in response to my last blog, it really is nice to get your support and encouragement. Yes, we all have a VISA (for travel, not creditcard) for earth, but we don't know when it will expire because our citizenship is elsewhere. (talk about cheeziness...hey, I'm corny, can I help it?)
Thus I will conclude with something I wrote in high-school on my senior trip. I have been never been satisfied with it, always feeling incomplete and unsure how to finish it, but I feel like posting something uplifting for once.
I gaze upon the blood red sky
It's ethereal incandescent beauty sends a chill down my spine
The haunting liturgical chant of the crickets lingers in the background
As the leaves gently whisper secrets into the wind
Crippled by veneration for your majesty
Overwhelmed with awe I am left mute
Surounded by your careful design,
To everything else around I am blind.
Surrounded by your glory
Only you can I see
January 20, 2006
Where to start with this blog? It has been a long time since I last wrote one. I'm feeling a little brave tonight so forget the whole poem thing--the old stream-of-consciousness writing ensues.
I was thinking the other day why I started putting only poems or retarded "metaphorical" stories on here. I think I started on a path of a broader difference between the outside and within--to be even less serious and joke around more and yet write more introspective things on here. As if I was going to reveal some other hidden part of me, or even the real me or something, I do not even know what the real me is. Somehow I thought that I would get people's attention through what I wrote. Humph, silly idea that was. I guess in order to do that you have to write about relevant things or in a way that makes sense to people. So then I found myself in such a conflict, is it better to write in a way that is true to yourself and what you are trying to express? Or better to write less vaguely so people can more easily identify?
I just read a friend's blog and I feel so broken for him, what can I do? So much pain in the lives of people I know and regretting not saying the words to let them know of the vicarious hurt I feel for them, even if I never had the words. You, my friends that bear the scars of troubles, that come out stronger--are my heroes. You who mourn your losses and take on life with even more courage.
I did not set any New Year's resolutions this year. No, it was not that I resolved not to make resolutions or anything clever like that. I only hope that it was not a manifestation of my apathy. I had never been real big on it but I would try and change things I guess. Sheesh, talk of resolutions is so trite. Ok, moving on...
A struggle recently has been belonging. I always thought I would belong at home in that humid paradise of sweat and splendid food. Bangkok I will always love you. Thailand you are always my home. Then I met with my classmates and friends and I felt very out of place, which I was perplexed at initially because we had come from all over--none of us had seen each other in a while. But as I thought about it I realized that we were living such different lives, headed in different directions and that saddened me so. The decisions they make, the lifestyle that they live contrasted with mine. At times I felt as if maybe I was not really living life in this institution we call Simpson University, in an artificial atmosphere. Truly, being surrounded by Christians 24/7 is amazing in the fellowship I get, but it is so ersatz. I say this because when we are finished with our time here, we are in the real world again of nonbelievers. I'm not sure how to tie my several thoughts in here into one paragraph. Anyway, all this to say that I felt like it was difficult for me to identify with my friends and relate with their experiences because my life is so different. Not that I am jealous of their lives, I just felt empty. Especially because I felt like I would always have that closeness with them. Even more so because I felt between two worlds, not belonging to either. Because I am not a super-Christian, or as vibrantly expressive in my faith in this place of deep spirituality. Because I grew up overseas, I can get close to but not never quite relate with people here. [Do not get me wrong, people here are amazing, just the belonging is not quite there.] Home is where the heart is, but if the heart is reluctantly extirpated where is home? [I know I know, my family is still there. Duh, home is always with them but...you get what I mean.] 'Sigh, the human need to sense belonging.
I noticed that in the times I am feeling the most melancholy is sometimes when people laugh most at what I say. Kind of counter-intuitive I guess. But I guess humor makes it easier to hide.
Sometimes I wish I were like those people that write inspiring things or revelations from life that move people to live life differently or to think about stuff. Or to at least write about relevant things that matter, based on the constant outcry of pain and suffering in the world exacerbated by apathy and inaction.
Going back to living different lives than my friends...a difficult thought was, would I have lived any differently had I been in their situation? What foolish decisions would I have made, or even if I were put in them now would I fall?
Well that concludes for now. I thought I had much more to write when I started but this is what managed to leak out of my fumbled mind.
I was thinking the other day why I started putting only poems or retarded "metaphorical" stories on here. I think I started on a path of a broader difference between the outside and within--to be even less serious and joke around more and yet write more introspective things on here. As if I was going to reveal some other hidden part of me, or even the real me or something, I do not even know what the real me is. Somehow I thought that I would get people's attention through what I wrote. Humph, silly idea that was. I guess in order to do that you have to write about relevant things or in a way that makes sense to people. So then I found myself in such a conflict, is it better to write in a way that is true to yourself and what you are trying to express? Or better to write less vaguely so people can more easily identify?
I just read a friend's blog and I feel so broken for him, what can I do? So much pain in the lives of people I know and regretting not saying the words to let them know of the vicarious hurt I feel for them, even if I never had the words. You, my friends that bear the scars of troubles, that come out stronger--are my heroes. You who mourn your losses and take on life with even more courage.
I did not set any New Year's resolutions this year. No, it was not that I resolved not to make resolutions or anything clever like that. I only hope that it was not a manifestation of my apathy. I had never been real big on it but I would try and change things I guess. Sheesh, talk of resolutions is so trite. Ok, moving on...
A struggle recently has been belonging. I always thought I would belong at home in that humid paradise of sweat and splendid food. Bangkok I will always love you. Thailand you are always my home. Then I met with my classmates and friends and I felt very out of place, which I was perplexed at initially because we had come from all over--none of us had seen each other in a while. But as I thought about it I realized that we were living such different lives, headed in different directions and that saddened me so. The decisions they make, the lifestyle that they live contrasted with mine. At times I felt as if maybe I was not really living life in this institution we call Simpson University, in an artificial atmosphere. Truly, being surrounded by Christians 24/7 is amazing in the fellowship I get, but it is so ersatz. I say this because when we are finished with our time here, we are in the real world again of nonbelievers. I'm not sure how to tie my several thoughts in here into one paragraph. Anyway, all this to say that I felt like it was difficult for me to identify with my friends and relate with their experiences because my life is so different. Not that I am jealous of their lives, I just felt empty. Especially because I felt like I would always have that closeness with them. Even more so because I felt between two worlds, not belonging to either. Because I am not a super-Christian, or as vibrantly expressive in my faith in this place of deep spirituality. Because I grew up overseas, I can get close to but not never quite relate with people here. [Do not get me wrong, people here are amazing, just the belonging is not quite there.] Home is where the heart is, but if the heart is reluctantly extirpated where is home? [I know I know, my family is still there. Duh, home is always with them but...you get what I mean.] 'Sigh, the human need to sense belonging.
I noticed that in the times I am feeling the most melancholy is sometimes when people laugh most at what I say. Kind of counter-intuitive I guess. But I guess humor makes it easier to hide.
Sometimes I wish I were like those people that write inspiring things or revelations from life that move people to live life differently or to think about stuff. Or to at least write about relevant things that matter, based on the constant outcry of pain and suffering in the world exacerbated by apathy and inaction.
Going back to living different lives than my friends...a difficult thought was, would I have lived any differently had I been in their situation? What foolish decisions would I have made, or even if I were put in them now would I fall?
Well that concludes for now. I thought I had much more to write when I started but this is what managed to leak out of my fumbled mind.
November 30, 2005 - Diatribe Against the Diet Tribe
Diatribe against the Diet Tribe
Figure - plump,
Intellect - emaciated.
Social insouciance.
Christless crisis.
While I'm at it, here I go. I have had a problem with using the name of Christ without thinking, His name becomes a copout when we don't know what to say. I guess I am also tired of us throwing His name around to try as if we feel like we need to to prove our faith. Should not our actions and words be in the context of Christ? That people can tell by the way we talk that He is the starting point, the foundation for all we do and say? He should be evident, He should permeate our lives, not a mere name that we have to integrate into our speech. Maybe I am wrong, maybe I am being defensive as someone that does not talk about my faith 24/7 against a conviction to do so more. Maybe I'm just jaded.
Hmm, that's probably the world's shortest diatribe. I guess I usually try to be more diplomatic and nonopinionated or relay my thoughts through metaphor or poetry that nobody understands. Arg, going against all my hesitancy and just saying it.
To explain is to ruin the effect, but oh well. For those that do not catch on "Diet Tribe" refers to the people of this land. Obsessed with the quick and easy solution to solve our problems without any effort. Going off of my last blog I guess (referring to what people read and what they write)--people do not like to think about things so you have to spell it out plain and simple (hrm, is that what I'm doing now?) so that they can get whatever substance out of it in as little time as possible. People just write whatever they are thinking--yet I guess that is what blogging is for. Moreover, I observe that people tend to prefer reading predigested material.
Or perhaps I just tend to favor high-falutin malarky.
Am I over-analyzing and being cynical for little reason? Likely. Am I fettered to the desire to look for the quick and easy way? More than I wish was true. Am I feeling insecure about posting what I am actually thinking? Yes. Is there a point to this paragraph? Not really.
The irony: this blog is predigested. All these words to explain 8 words (and its title) and give them context. [Originally the diatribe was meant to consist of just the first 8 words so consider them two separate sections]
I wonder if that came out right, I've been mulling over this for awhile and these are the thoughts that fought their way to the forefront of my mind as I wrote this.
Figure - plump,
Intellect - emaciated.
Social insouciance.
Christless crisis.
While I'm at it, here I go. I have had a problem with using the name of Christ without thinking, His name becomes a copout when we don't know what to say. I guess I am also tired of us throwing His name around to try as if we feel like we need to to prove our faith. Should not our actions and words be in the context of Christ? That people can tell by the way we talk that He is the starting point, the foundation for all we do and say? He should be evident, He should permeate our lives, not a mere name that we have to integrate into our speech. Maybe I am wrong, maybe I am being defensive as someone that does not talk about my faith 24/7 against a conviction to do so more. Maybe I'm just jaded.
Hmm, that's probably the world's shortest diatribe. I guess I usually try to be more diplomatic and nonopinionated or relay my thoughts through metaphor or poetry that nobody understands. Arg, going against all my hesitancy and just saying it.
To explain is to ruin the effect, but oh well. For those that do not catch on "Diet Tribe" refers to the people of this land. Obsessed with the quick and easy solution to solve our problems without any effort. Going off of my last blog I guess (referring to what people read and what they write)--people do not like to think about things so you have to spell it out plain and simple (hrm, is that what I'm doing now?) so that they can get whatever substance out of it in as little time as possible. People just write whatever they are thinking--yet I guess that is what blogging is for. Moreover, I observe that people tend to prefer reading predigested material.
Or perhaps I just tend to favor high-falutin malarky.
Am I over-analyzing and being cynical for little reason? Likely. Am I fettered to the desire to look for the quick and easy way? More than I wish was true. Am I feeling insecure about posting what I am actually thinking? Yes. Is there a point to this paragraph? Not really.
The irony: this blog is predigested. All these words to explain 8 words (and its title) and give them context. [Originally the diatribe was meant to consist of just the first 8 words so consider them two separate sections]
I wonder if that came out right, I've been mulling over this for awhile and these are the thoughts that fought their way to the forefront of my mind as I wrote this.
October 20, 2005
*A little detour...a little more cynical than usual I guess...I wouldn’t really consider this a poem, more of an observation/criticism of what people look for in writing…
Detritus mopes along the sea floor
Normally consumed by the bottom-feeders
Strangely enough in this time and age
Scavengers come from all corners
For a delicacy oh so relished
Of decayed substance
In search of the immediately digestible
For it produces instantaneous results
Forgotten is nutrition--
Value found in rumination
*Perhaps this is incomplete, but at least the thought is out…
Detritus mopes along the sea floor
Normally consumed by the bottom-feeders
Strangely enough in this time and age
Scavengers come from all corners
For a delicacy oh so relished
Of decayed substance
In search of the immediately digestible
For it produces instantaneous results
Forgotten is nutrition--
Value found in rumination
*Perhaps this is incomplete, but at least the thought is out…
September 27, 2005 - Pinata
Pinata
Pinata
Empty hollow
No prize inside
Smashed beaten
Swings left and right helplessly
Long-suffering for the sake of entertainment
With hope that truth will captivate
Fear that truth induces further beating
Pain by disappointment
When discovered
There is nothing to be found
The silence of the children is piercing
As they walk away in disappointment
After watching nothingness spill to the ground
Pinata
Empty hollow
No prize inside
Pinata
Empty hollow
No prize inside
Smashed beaten
Swings left and right helplessly
Long-suffering for the sake of entertainment
With hope that truth will captivate
Fear that truth induces further beating
Pain by disappointment
When discovered
There is nothing to be found
The silence of the children is piercing
As they walk away in disappointment
After watching nothingness spill to the ground
Pinata
Empty hollow
No prize inside
September 14, 2005 - Living Demise
Living demise
Murmurs that caused such turmoil
Buried somewhere ‘neath the soil
Mistakenly my pulse was tossed among the forbidden
Now I can’t seem to remember where they were hidden
A long time passed before I knew it was lost
Before I began to feel my heart lined with frost
For as the last layer of dirt was lain
At that moment emotions were slain
Murmurs that caused such turmoil
Buried somewhere ‘neath the soil
Mistakenly my pulse was tossed among the forbidden
Now I can’t seem to remember where they were hidden
A long time passed before I knew it was lost
Before I began to feel my heart lined with frost
For as the last layer of dirt was lain
At that moment emotions were slain
September 7, 2005 - Painter's Metaphor
Painter's Metaphor
The guise of metaphor feels so safe
But I ache to be found
For this place is an empty sepulcher
Produce the painting that will be enjoyed for aesthetics
Hoping that someone will see the purpose
…behind each careful brushstroke
behind the painter’s selection from his palette
yet not miss the overall story as displayed on canvas
then the artist wonders
does he paint from false inspiration
out of the relentless need for expression
or out of the simple joy of doing what he loves
hoping for sympathy he paints trails along the ground
they all lead to himself
only to find that he has painted himself into a corner
nowhere to go but to wait, afraid of who will discover
curious to see who has felt the same
The guise of metaphor feels so safe
But I ache to be found
For this place is an empty sepulcher
Produce the painting that will be enjoyed for aesthetics
Hoping that someone will see the purpose
…behind each careful brushstroke
behind the painter’s selection from his palette
yet not miss the overall story as displayed on canvas
then the artist wonders
does he paint from false inspiration
out of the relentless need for expression
or out of the simple joy of doing what he loves
hoping for sympathy he paints trails along the ground
they all lead to himself
only to find that he has painted himself into a corner
nowhere to go but to wait, afraid of who will discover
curious to see who has felt the same
August 12, 2005 - Flotsam
Flotsam
Somehow my soul was jettisoned from this vessel
Leaving it not more than a ghost ship
Tired of sailing whichever way the wind blows
The stars have been veiled
Not permitting any sense of direction
Somewhere along the way the anchor was lost
Leaving this boat to drift, drift aimlessly
Yet stubborn determination drives me onward
To sail to where I do not know
To blindly pull back the translucent curtains of fog
Somehow my soul was jettisoned from this vessel
Leaving it not more than a ghost ship
Tired of sailing whichever way the wind blows
The stars have been veiled
Not permitting any sense of direction
Somewhere along the way the anchor was lost
Leaving this boat to drift, drift aimlessly
Yet stubborn determination drives me onward
To sail to where I do not know
To blindly pull back the translucent curtains of fog
Monday, August 27, 2007
July 20, 2005 - Souljourner
Souljourner
Raging heat, augmented by humidity
Refreshes my being
The air clouded, adulterated by pollution
Inhale the fumes, a purifying soothing solution
Gaze upon the mania of metallic beasts
As they roam the narrow streets
Tuk-tuk[1] terrors traverse loudly
Motorcycle menaces maneuver swiftly
Bloated buses barge through
The bedlam calms my nerves
I walk down the soi[2]
A poor, hairless creature limps along aimlessly
Its’ emaciated frame, covered in sores
Resembles a heart away from home
A voiceless toothy grin
In response to the clunk, clunk sound of coins
Her teeth, stained red and rotted from betel nut[3]
Like the tattered transient upon a glimpse of home
Mansions stand proudly along the road
On the other side of its walls the slums hide in humility
On both sides of the walls laughter can be heard—
Happiness and contentment despite condition
The rain tap dances on the tin roofs for days
Drenched raiment clings to his shivering skin
As the beggar searches frantically for solace
So is a soul away from home
A flurry of bright orange arises in the east
In the west, monks robed in saffron—
The ersatz glory of the sun—collect alms in peace
A warm, welcoming grin from the land of smiles[4]
To the weary sojourner—the souljourner—
As he returns to his place of rest
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] An open three-wheeled vehicle, a cross between a motorcycle and a taxi, used for public transportation.
[2] The Thai word for sub-street
[3] A type of seed that contains traces of stimulants that provide a buzz when chewed.
[4] Thailand is known as “the land of smiles”
Written for my English class last semester...apprehension of criticism for perhaps misrepresentation has prevented me from sharing earlier. It was so hard to write about only a few select things which had to be understandable to those that have not been privelaged to witness everything that Thailand is, but I guess this is more Krungthep--a morsel of it. Home where is home?
Raging heat, augmented by humidity
Refreshes my being
The air clouded, adulterated by pollution
Inhale the fumes, a purifying soothing solution
Gaze upon the mania of metallic beasts
As they roam the narrow streets
Tuk-tuk[1] terrors traverse loudly
Motorcycle menaces maneuver swiftly
Bloated buses barge through
The bedlam calms my nerves
I walk down the soi[2]
A poor, hairless creature limps along aimlessly
Its’ emaciated frame, covered in sores
Resembles a heart away from home
A voiceless toothy grin
In response to the clunk, clunk sound of coins
Her teeth, stained red and rotted from betel nut[3]
Like the tattered transient upon a glimpse of home
Mansions stand proudly along the road
On the other side of its walls the slums hide in humility
On both sides of the walls laughter can be heard—
Happiness and contentment despite condition
The rain tap dances on the tin roofs for days
Drenched raiment clings to his shivering skin
As the beggar searches frantically for solace
So is a soul away from home
A flurry of bright orange arises in the east
In the west, monks robed in saffron—
The ersatz glory of the sun—collect alms in peace
A warm, welcoming grin from the land of smiles[4]
To the weary sojourner—the souljourner—
As he returns to his place of rest
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] An open three-wheeled vehicle, a cross between a motorcycle and a taxi, used for public transportation.
[2] The Thai word for sub-street
[3] A type of seed that contains traces of stimulants that provide a buzz when chewed.
[4] Thailand is known as “the land of smiles”
Written for my English class last semester...apprehension of criticism for perhaps misrepresentation has prevented me from sharing earlier. It was so hard to write about only a few select things which had to be understandable to those that have not been privelaged to witness everything that Thailand is, but I guess this is more Krungthep--a morsel of it. Home where is home?
July 11, 2005 - Pioneer
Pioneer
Sometimes I wish I was the pioneer of written language
To be the first to etch thoughts and inner stirrings
In a time of newness
Where everything seems fresh
To be the originator of written expression
To say anything without being cliché
In the place free of criticism
A brief dream that is
For I have realized the purpose
Of the staleness of communication
Is to force creativity
I am convinced there are few new themes in life
They are rarely discovered
Only varied by situation
There are only new ways to share them
Which few have found
For each man feels every experience
As if he has been the first
Not knowing humanity knows all too well
Saying straight out how he feels
Thinking honesty is crisp and unworn
Innocent ignorance has led many this way
Creating atmospheres of no hope for language
Hope lies in the abstraction of obscurity
This is what gives language its beauty--
To form something new out of the stale
These thoughts hurt
But they cauterize the wound
Reviving expression by stretching the mind
I know this has been said before.
Sometimes I wish I was the pioneer of written language
To be the first to etch thoughts and inner stirrings
In a time of newness
Where everything seems fresh
To be the originator of written expression
To say anything without being cliché
In the place free of criticism
A brief dream that is
For I have realized the purpose
Of the staleness of communication
Is to force creativity
I am convinced there are few new themes in life
They are rarely discovered
Only varied by situation
There are only new ways to share them
Which few have found
For each man feels every experience
As if he has been the first
Not knowing humanity knows all too well
Saying straight out how he feels
Thinking honesty is crisp and unworn
Innocent ignorance has led many this way
Creating atmospheres of no hope for language
Hope lies in the abstraction of obscurity
This is what gives language its beauty--
To form something new out of the stale
These thoughts hurt
But they cauterize the wound
Reviving expression by stretching the mind
I know this has been said before.
June 28, 2005 - 25 Days
25 Days
so severe
the pang of longing
despite knowing the wait is short
I will see you soon
never has the ache of distance
been this short
but oh so much more painful
ironic
unfair
why?
yet now—different circumstances
forced to change against our feelings
when I see you again
I know I will confuse
my actions will contradict
with what was said in the past
I apologize a head of time
sorry
it will be like the days of old
but we know it will hurt
how it stings to let go
so you can freely roam
to find self and soul
no longer stunted growth
by this hand that holds close
25 days
I’m elated
I’m scared
25 days
can’t wait to see you.
so severe
the pang of longing
despite knowing the wait is short
I will see you soon
never has the ache of distance
been this short
but oh so much more painful
ironic
unfair
why?
yet now—different circumstances
forced to change against our feelings
when I see you again
I know I will confuse
my actions will contradict
with what was said in the past
I apologize a head of time
sorry
it will be like the days of old
but we know it will hurt
how it stings to let go
so you can freely roam
to find self and soul
no longer stunted growth
by this hand that holds close
25 days
I’m elated
I’m scared
25 days
can’t wait to see you.
May 29, 2005 - The Weed
The “Weed”?
**Another story if you will...one along the same lines as the last one, although this one is more relevant to something in the past.**
He reached up to adjust his rearview mirror, briefly taking notice of the shiny new car behind him. A thirty-something woman sipped her Starbucks as she prattled into her cell-phone equipped with internet and camera and from the looks of it—the steering wheel for the car. He sighed as he looked around at the mess in his ’87 truck—waiting for the stoplight which resembled a tomato—it was old but had served him well all these years. He pulled forward as the tomato unripened from a lush red to a bright and sour green, giving him the signal to go. Mellow music mused in the background interrupted by intermittent waves of static as he drove along silently.
Upon reaching the house he got out of his white truck which read “Gardening Service” on the side, and walked to the front door of the medium sized grey house. The nine o’clock sun glared at him while he squinted right back. He rang the doorbell but then realized that there was an enveloped taped to the door with his name on it in careful writing. In it was a note with some basic instructions and a check for far more than his standard fee.
He made his way around to the backyard to inspect his patient to see what he would need to do to conjure a remedy. It was bad, but he could tell that it had once been a decent backyard with a pleasant garden in the corner. The grass was wild and long—briefly bringing to mind his long hair hippy days—and the weeds were looking as if they were preparing to usurp control of the backyard.
In a matter of several hours it looked completely different—he had transformed a jungle into a lawn and garden. There was something that was troubling him however. There was a strange plant, like no other he had seen in all his years in gardening, at the corner of the part where the lawn transitioned into garden. It looked like it belonged in the garden and yet somehow at the same time it seemed so out of place. He was unsure as to what he should do. It almost looked like an exotic plant, but at the same time it could have been a weed. Whatever it was, it was strange and too small for him to determine. He did not want to appear unprofessional and possibly leave a weed growing but did not want to destroy a special plant. The note left by his customer asked him to come once every fortnight and mentioned that he would probably be gone before the gardener arrived to work. With this in mind he wondered if he should let this plant bloom or if he should completely extirpate it. He could trim it and leave possibilities open for either option—which would be avoiding a solution—either letting a weed remain rooted or preventing a flower from reaching full bloom.
Both solutions are problematic, he did not know what to do, there was no way he could ask the owner for he would never meet him. Which risk must he take?
**Another story if you will...one along the same lines as the last one, although this one is more relevant to something in the past.**
He reached up to adjust his rearview mirror, briefly taking notice of the shiny new car behind him. A thirty-something woman sipped her Starbucks as she prattled into her cell-phone equipped with internet and camera and from the looks of it—the steering wheel for the car. He sighed as he looked around at the mess in his ’87 truck—waiting for the stoplight which resembled a tomato—it was old but had served him well all these years. He pulled forward as the tomato unripened from a lush red to a bright and sour green, giving him the signal to go. Mellow music mused in the background interrupted by intermittent waves of static as he drove along silently.
Upon reaching the house he got out of his white truck which read “Gardening Service” on the side, and walked to the front door of the medium sized grey house. The nine o’clock sun glared at him while he squinted right back. He rang the doorbell but then realized that there was an enveloped taped to the door with his name on it in careful writing. In it was a note with some basic instructions and a check for far more than his standard fee.
He made his way around to the backyard to inspect his patient to see what he would need to do to conjure a remedy. It was bad, but he could tell that it had once been a decent backyard with a pleasant garden in the corner. The grass was wild and long—briefly bringing to mind his long hair hippy days—and the weeds were looking as if they were preparing to usurp control of the backyard.
In a matter of several hours it looked completely different—he had transformed a jungle into a lawn and garden. There was something that was troubling him however. There was a strange plant, like no other he had seen in all his years in gardening, at the corner of the part where the lawn transitioned into garden. It looked like it belonged in the garden and yet somehow at the same time it seemed so out of place. He was unsure as to what he should do. It almost looked like an exotic plant, but at the same time it could have been a weed. Whatever it was, it was strange and too small for him to determine. He did not want to appear unprofessional and possibly leave a weed growing but did not want to destroy a special plant. The note left by his customer asked him to come once every fortnight and mentioned that he would probably be gone before the gardener arrived to work. With this in mind he wondered if he should let this plant bloom or if he should completely extirpate it. He could trim it and leave possibilities open for either option—which would be avoiding a solution—either letting a weed remain rooted or preventing a flower from reaching full bloom.
Both solutions are problematic, he did not know what to do, there was no way he could ask the owner for he would never meet him. Which risk must he take?
May 28, 2005 - Death of a Teenager
Death of a Teenager
Angst—melted
Rebellion against childhood—forgotten
Fighting to earn respect—lost
Complex complexion—burned
Return to innocence
Welcome back youth
Seek simplicity
New expectations to bind
Free in trust given by the loss
Free in the death of a teenager
Free to embrace childhood once again
To be happy in acting as we wish
Confused by the passing of days
We are all the same
Yet choked by blinding attitudes
Death of a teenager
End of this limbo state
All the difference
And yet no change
Youth—reborn
twenty years—haven’t seen the world
twenty years—no experience
twenty years—no wisdom
eighty years—no difference—still no knowledge of how to truly live
Children hold the precious gem in innocence
Death of a teenager
Let the same blood that courses these veins
Flow once again in the excited glee of youth.
Angst—melted
Rebellion against childhood—forgotten
Fighting to earn respect—lost
Complex complexion—burned
Return to innocence
Welcome back youth
Seek simplicity
New expectations to bind
Free in trust given by the loss
Free in the death of a teenager
Free to embrace childhood once again
To be happy in acting as we wish
Confused by the passing of days
We are all the same
Yet choked by blinding attitudes
Death of a teenager
End of this limbo state
All the difference
And yet no change
Youth—reborn
twenty years—haven’t seen the world
twenty years—no experience
twenty years—no wisdom
eighty years—no difference—still no knowledge of how to truly live
Children hold the precious gem in innocence
Death of a teenager
Let the same blood that courses these veins
Flow once again in the excited glee of youth.
May 13. 2005 - Hyperopia
Please no matter what, just bear through this love poem, read it to the end, it might make it worth it, that's all I have to say.
Hyperopia
Maybe its you I'm really in love with
Maybe you're what I've been searching for
Maybe that's why its you I turn to
When I'm happy
When I'm sad
When I'm confused
When love is lost
When love is found
Through it all you're always there
You always listen
You are there when I make mistakes
You never scold or mock, you're just there
You aren't perfect but you do the best you can
You correct me when I am wrong
You offer advice--sometimes good, sometimes bad
You make my life so easy
I want to protect you
I want to shield you from corruption
To care for you when sick
I know I turn you on
But there are the times when I turn you off
I love how you let me have my way with you
I can't keep my hands off of you
You let me watch you silently
You endure my bad singing
When I stink you never turn away
Honestly, somedays you are the only one in the world I can tolerate
I love you, it took me forever to realize
But sometimes you do things that are so shocking
And I know I've hurt you too
Could you take the risk
Who cares what everyone else thinks
Could you love me back?
My computer.
Hyperopia
Maybe its you I'm really in love with
Maybe you're what I've been searching for
Maybe that's why its you I turn to
When I'm happy
When I'm sad
When I'm confused
When love is lost
When love is found
Through it all you're always there
You always listen
You are there when I make mistakes
You never scold or mock, you're just there
You aren't perfect but you do the best you can
You correct me when I am wrong
You offer advice--sometimes good, sometimes bad
You make my life so easy
I want to protect you
I want to shield you from corruption
To care for you when sick
I know I turn you on
But there are the times when I turn you off
I love how you let me have my way with you
I can't keep my hands off of you
You let me watch you silently
You endure my bad singing
When I stink you never turn away
Honestly, somedays you are the only one in the world I can tolerate
I love you, it took me forever to realize
But sometimes you do things that are so shocking
And I know I've hurt you too
Could you take the risk
Who cares what everyone else thinks
Could you love me back?
My computer.
April 29, 2005 - Tenuous
This theme had been swimming in my head, but it was incomplete until the rediscovery of the words of Sophocles. *No relation between these words and this powerful film.*
Tenuous
For Ralos
The prophet is brother to the heretic
One is an artist the other a poet
Both make clear through obscurity
They speak of what no other know
Whispers of truth in their ear
Only to proclaim ambiguous
They can do no more
Blessed are those who seek
Do not ask
Do not ask
He has done his task
To coerce him to explain
Is to pluck a butterfly’s wings
For he knows no more than you
To shut him up
Is to cloak the earth from darkness
Be not fooled by erudition
Be not entranced by esoteric metaphor
He knows less than you
He seeks only to evoke confusion
To intimidate to submission
The blind leads his trusting disciples
Close not your eyes
Strain your ears for what you cannot hear
Listen for the hollow echo within his soul
“Whoever thinks he alone possesses intelligence,
the gift of eloquence, he and no one else,
and character too…such men, I tell you,
spread them open—you will find them empty.” (from Antigone by Sophocles)
One is an artist the other a poet
Both make clear through obscurity
The prophet is brother to the heretic
Tenuous is the line that divides
Oft they don each other’s raiment
One suffocates the truth
The other grants vision through his kaleidoscope
The line is tenuous. Which are you.
Tenuous
For Ralos
The prophet is brother to the heretic
One is an artist the other a poet
Both make clear through obscurity
They speak of what no other know
Whispers of truth in their ear
Only to proclaim ambiguous
They can do no more
Blessed are those who seek
Do not ask
Do not ask
He has done his task
To coerce him to explain
Is to pluck a butterfly’s wings
For he knows no more than you
To shut him up
Is to cloak the earth from darkness
Be not fooled by erudition
Be not entranced by esoteric metaphor
He knows less than you
He seeks only to evoke confusion
To intimidate to submission
The blind leads his trusting disciples
Close not your eyes
Strain your ears for what you cannot hear
Listen for the hollow echo within his soul
“Whoever thinks he alone possesses intelligence,
the gift of eloquence, he and no one else,
and character too…such men, I tell you,
spread them open—you will find them empty.” (from Antigone by Sophocles)
One is an artist the other a poet
Both make clear through obscurity
The prophet is brother to the heretic
Tenuous is the line that divides
Oft they don each other’s raiment
One suffocates the truth
The other grants vision through his kaleidoscope
The line is tenuous. Which are you.
April 20, 2005 - Hopelessly Hopeful
Hopelessly Hopeful
Out of control and “up in the air”,
but this air rests in the grip of gentle hands.
Beaten and weary,
trampled by unrelenting despair.
The sun is shining,
but shadows cloak the world.
Wounds of sadness sting,
nurtured by broken-hearted support.
Emptied by confusion.
Stabbed by questions.
Crippled by helplessness,
Barely enough strength for these tear-stained petitions.
Spirit charred by burning desire to understand.
In you, hopelessly hopeful.
Rendered mute,
the soul weeps silently,
prayers with no words,
whispered in your ear.
In you, I need not speak.
In you, I need not see.
In you, hopelessly hopeful.
Out of control and “up in the air”,
but this air rests in the grip of gentle hands.
Beaten and weary,
trampled by unrelenting despair.
The sun is shining,
but shadows cloak the world.
Wounds of sadness sting,
nurtured by broken-hearted support.
Emptied by confusion.
Stabbed by questions.
Crippled by helplessness,
Barely enough strength for these tear-stained petitions.
Spirit charred by burning desire to understand.
In you, hopelessly hopeful.
Rendered mute,
the soul weeps silently,
prayers with no words,
whispered in your ear.
In you, I need not speak.
In you, I need not see.
In you, hopelessly hopeful.
April 13, 2005 - Listen
Listen
[...spring break...]
(I’m deaf – help me defeat this
Lend me a hearing aid, I’ll buy the battery
I’d read your lips
But I could never look upon your face)
I wish I knew how you speak
So that I would know how to listen
I know that would reduce your majesty to simplicity
And less effort for me
I just am overwhelmed
I cannot concentrate
I cannot focus
I cannot quiet the din in my mind
So many mediums for your voice
This time which did you choose
Are there fragments from each that I must piece together
Are you a human voice
Are you in metaphor, parable, analogy
Are you in scripture
Are you the faintest whisper that spoke to Elijah
Are you the awesome flame that humbled Moses
Are you the man that wrestled Jacob
Are you the light that blinded Saul/Paul
Are you the dreams of the night
Are you what prods my mind
Are you what tugs at my heart
When do you want me to be logical
When should I look in the mystical
The silence proclaims the answer
Frustrated that I cannot hear it
Dizzied by the frenzy of possibility—
Daunting—all too often resort to apathy
Half-heartedness won’t get me there
I know you hear me, listen as I say
I’m trying I’m trying
I’ll never utter another word
I’ll listen forever
I want to hear you
[...spring break...]
(I’m deaf – help me defeat this
Lend me a hearing aid, I’ll buy the battery
I’d read your lips
But I could never look upon your face)
I wish I knew how you speak
So that I would know how to listen
I know that would reduce your majesty to simplicity
And less effort for me
I just am overwhelmed
I cannot concentrate
I cannot focus
I cannot quiet the din in my mind
So many mediums for your voice
This time which did you choose
Are there fragments from each that I must piece together
Are you a human voice
Are you in metaphor, parable, analogy
Are you in scripture
Are you the faintest whisper that spoke to Elijah
Are you the awesome flame that humbled Moses
Are you the man that wrestled Jacob
Are you the light that blinded Saul/Paul
Are you the dreams of the night
Are you what prods my mind
Are you what tugs at my heart
When do you want me to be logical
When should I look in the mystical
The silence proclaims the answer
Frustrated that I cannot hear it
Dizzied by the frenzy of possibility—
Daunting—all too often resort to apathy
Half-heartedness won’t get me there
I know you hear me, listen as I say
I’m trying I’m trying
I’ll never utter another word
I’ll listen forever
I want to hear you
April 06, 2005 - A Metaphor
Below I have a story which I wrote pretty much in a stream-of-consciousness manner. I got an idea and decided to run with it. It is a metaphor, analogy, or short story or something for what we face in life with decisions and what is on my mind. I realize it is not very deep and it is imperfect. Usually I try and develop an idea before I write it but this time it just all spewed out. This will probably bore you if you actually read to completion anyway, but I realize that if you analyze elements of my life (allow me to be narcisstic for a moment and pretend that it is even a possibility) it could seem that this has specific implications. Please do not assume so.
Mouth agape he entered the massive library, the wise incandescent glow watched from above. The smell of old books filled his nostrils as he stood in awe, gazing at the daunting labyrinth of books. The library was empty except for the sole librarian who sat at her tiny wooden desk, illuminated by a small bronze lamp. She was probably in her sixties, her gray hair short and curly, she looked up at him with faded green eyes through her spectacles, offering a gentle smile. "May I help you?" she asked. He looked at her sheepishly and admitted, "I'm here to find a book, but I don't know what i want." She chuckled and said as if she understood, "Take your time and browse, since you are new around here, I'll only let you take one book out, okay?" He nodded and began on his way, scanning up and down and along the towers of bookshelves. His eyes were drawn to many different types of books, whether it be the title that captured his curiousity, or the familiarness of the author or even an unfamiliar author with an interesting name. There were books that had colorful and artistic covers that caught his eye, others that drew him out of their simplicity. He visited the multifarious seictions systematically, in some he lingered for a long time while others he quickly left.
After going through several books which he decided he did not want to read for various reasons after reading little portions of them, he finally settled on one. He had walked by this book many times but did not really notice it until he had become frustrated with his previous selections. He found that he really enjoyed this from the start. He began to read it earnestly and as quickly as he could when suddenly the librarian rushed over and snatched it from him. She asked if he was sure this was the book he wanted and he said, "Yes, I think so." She said, "Well, I'm going to take this from you for a bit, you can sit and think about it some more. You can browse some more if you like."
Instead he sat there dejected because he had been so excited about that book. It seemed like an eternity had passed when finally she returned it to him. He read for a long time before she came back and did the same. She repeated this everal times, so he began to look around timidly, not really searching for anything because he had made quite a bit of progress in the other book. It pleased him and kept his interest, "it is good" he thought to himself. As he was wandering aimlessly he accidentally bumped into one of the bookcases which were so solid it did not even budge, but a single book fell off. "Silly fool!" he thought to himself, "watch where you are going!" He looked at the label of the section he was in and walked over to replace the book to its original location. There was something about it that made him not want to put it back, so he looked at the front cover--the title was an interesting one but he hadn ever heard of the author. He then flipped the book over and read the back and this really made him want to read it. He could not, he told himself, because he needed to finish the other one since he had read so much already. He refused to put the book back however.
The wait for the other book was forever. Finally the librarian returned and he tried to ask her which he thought he should read but she refused to answer, "you must make the decision yourself." She did say that it was time for him to leave as the library was closing. He was puzzled, which to read? The one he had begun, which he already knew as good or the other which was a new possibility? Risk keeping the good to find out the other was better? Or take the new and risking that it be a letdown? To go with what he knew already, could he make himself satisfied knowing that he had made a good choice? Or would the possibility of "better" haunt him?
Panic gripped him as he could not decide, but he knew he must.
***Yeah yeah, I know, there are many faults where you can say that it's not a big deal because its a library he's only checking out the book, he can get another one later. I could list more but that would be dumb.***
Mouth agape he entered the massive library, the wise incandescent glow watched from above. The smell of old books filled his nostrils as he stood in awe, gazing at the daunting labyrinth of books. The library was empty except for the sole librarian who sat at her tiny wooden desk, illuminated by a small bronze lamp. She was probably in her sixties, her gray hair short and curly, she looked up at him with faded green eyes through her spectacles, offering a gentle smile. "May I help you?" she asked. He looked at her sheepishly and admitted, "I'm here to find a book, but I don't know what i want." She chuckled and said as if she understood, "Take your time and browse, since you are new around here, I'll only let you take one book out, okay?" He nodded and began on his way, scanning up and down and along the towers of bookshelves. His eyes were drawn to many different types of books, whether it be the title that captured his curiousity, or the familiarness of the author or even an unfamiliar author with an interesting name. There were books that had colorful and artistic covers that caught his eye, others that drew him out of their simplicity. He visited the multifarious seictions systematically, in some he lingered for a long time while others he quickly left.
After going through several books which he decided he did not want to read for various reasons after reading little portions of them, he finally settled on one. He had walked by this book many times but did not really notice it until he had become frustrated with his previous selections. He found that he really enjoyed this from the start. He began to read it earnestly and as quickly as he could when suddenly the librarian rushed over and snatched it from him. She asked if he was sure this was the book he wanted and he said, "Yes, I think so." She said, "Well, I'm going to take this from you for a bit, you can sit and think about it some more. You can browse some more if you like."
Instead he sat there dejected because he had been so excited about that book. It seemed like an eternity had passed when finally she returned it to him. He read for a long time before she came back and did the same. She repeated this everal times, so he began to look around timidly, not really searching for anything because he had made quite a bit of progress in the other book. It pleased him and kept his interest, "it is good" he thought to himself. As he was wandering aimlessly he accidentally bumped into one of the bookcases which were so solid it did not even budge, but a single book fell off. "Silly fool!" he thought to himself, "watch where you are going!" He looked at the label of the section he was in and walked over to replace the book to its original location. There was something about it that made him not want to put it back, so he looked at the front cover--the title was an interesting one but he hadn ever heard of the author. He then flipped the book over and read the back and this really made him want to read it. He could not, he told himself, because he needed to finish the other one since he had read so much already. He refused to put the book back however.
The wait for the other book was forever. Finally the librarian returned and he tried to ask her which he thought he should read but she refused to answer, "you must make the decision yourself." She did say that it was time for him to leave as the library was closing. He was puzzled, which to read? The one he had begun, which he already knew as good or the other which was a new possibility? Risk keeping the good to find out the other was better? Or take the new and risking that it be a letdown? To go with what he knew already, could he make himself satisfied knowing that he had made a good choice? Or would the possibility of "better" haunt him?
Panic gripped him as he could not decide, but he knew he must.
***Yeah yeah, I know, there are many faults where you can say that it's not a big deal because its a library he's only checking out the book, he can get another one later. I could list more but that would be dumb.***
March 23, 2005 - Death=Debt
Death=debt.
Mood: cadaverous.
Stupidity--once you are dead, even though your material possesions do not follow you, they certainly leave you and you are responsible for how they leave you; you have to divide up your junk and will it to people.
Dumb--once you are dead you still have to pay someone to do something with your cadaver.
I just realized how dumb everything in this society is[pardon my generalizations], honestly it is ludicrous. My aunt was telling me how she was making a down payment on her cremation. Her motives are altruistic--she does not want to make the family that she leaves behind have to deal with it and pay for it themselves. Should it not be that once you die, you can finally be free of all the worries of debt and blah blah blah. Well, ok, maybe in some people's minds this does not seem all too odd. Lets take a look at the price tag and perhaps your mind will be slightly swayed. Six grand to burn your lifeless and inhibiting vehicle for your soul. I just do not get it. It costs even more to NOT burn your corpse, so you pay them more to do nothing with it (yeah yeah, I know I am simplifying it). I was already speechless about this whole ordeal when I heard that you have to pay an additional one thousand dollar bills if you want to have your ashes signed over to the care of a family member, rather than it sitting in a wall next to all the others.
Something about the thought of making downpayments way in advance is crazy to me (my aunt is still a quite a ways off from the half century mark). Something about, in a sense, going into debt so that you can die.
Seeing as I have no choice in this, in some way I will be paying for my death which will not matter, I might as well begin saving up for my death. So dumb that even death is not a way out of debt. Why does this country love debt?
Mood: cadaverous.
Stupidity--once you are dead, even though your material possesions do not follow you, they certainly leave you and you are responsible for how they leave you; you have to divide up your junk and will it to people.
Dumb--once you are dead you still have to pay someone to do something with your cadaver.
I just realized how dumb everything in this society is[pardon my generalizations], honestly it is ludicrous. My aunt was telling me how she was making a down payment on her cremation. Her motives are altruistic--she does not want to make the family that she leaves behind have to deal with it and pay for it themselves. Should it not be that once you die, you can finally be free of all the worries of debt and blah blah blah. Well, ok, maybe in some people's minds this does not seem all too odd. Lets take a look at the price tag and perhaps your mind will be slightly swayed. Six grand to burn your lifeless and inhibiting vehicle for your soul. I just do not get it. It costs even more to NOT burn your corpse, so you pay them more to do nothing with it (yeah yeah, I know I am simplifying it). I was already speechless about this whole ordeal when I heard that you have to pay an additional one thousand dollar bills if you want to have your ashes signed over to the care of a family member, rather than it sitting in a wall next to all the others.
Something about the thought of making downpayments way in advance is crazy to me (my aunt is still a quite a ways off from the half century mark). Something about, in a sense, going into debt so that you can die.
Seeing as I have no choice in this, in some way I will be paying for my death which will not matter, I might as well begin saving up for my death. So dumb that even death is not a way out of debt. Why does this country love debt?
March 19, 2005 - The Walk Home
The Walk Home
Current mood: artistic wannabe
A.M., dark outside
the great nightlight in the sky gleams just enough.
Cars drive by occasionally in the distance with an echoing exhale,
ersatz light only looks forward, squinting in the night.
Now only the rhythm of rubber sole against gravel--
crunch, crunch--like non-soggy cereal--crunch, crunch.
The obnoxious ringing in my ears the loudest sound,
drowns out the din in my mind, to escape the bedlam.
Dull aching chill against my skin,
the bitter breeze warms me.
Alone, alone in madness of the halcyon darkness.
Free, free in captivity of my thoughts.
Current mood: artistic wannabe
A.M., dark outside
the great nightlight in the sky gleams just enough.
Cars drive by occasionally in the distance with an echoing exhale,
ersatz light only looks forward, squinting in the night.
Now only the rhythm of rubber sole against gravel--
crunch, crunch--like non-soggy cereal--crunch, crunch.
The obnoxious ringing in my ears the loudest sound,
drowns out the din in my mind, to escape the bedlam.
Dull aching chill against my skin,
the bitter breeze warms me.
Alone, alone in madness of the halcyon darkness.
Free, free in captivity of my thoughts.
March 04, 2005 - Poem
Teach me know when to be content
Teach me when to yearn for more
I know each has its time
Show me the balance in the tension--
Prevent me from tepid stagnation
Protect me from ungrateful dissatisfaction
Each side pulls me
So I do my best to walk the middle, sometimes I lean
This is wrong, I must commit
I am fearful of either side
I know both require sacrifice
I cannot weigh these nebulous things
I wish you would just give me a shove
So I would fall to the side I must go
I know, I know--this is the beautiful gift of free will
Wisdom, guidance, peace, clarity
These I know you give
Please, please--share them.
Teach me when to yearn for more
I know each has its time
Show me the balance in the tension--
Prevent me from tepid stagnation
Protect me from ungrateful dissatisfaction
Each side pulls me
So I do my best to walk the middle, sometimes I lean
This is wrong, I must commit
I am fearful of either side
I know both require sacrifice
I cannot weigh these nebulous things
I wish you would just give me a shove
So I would fall to the side I must go
I know, I know--this is the beautiful gift of free will
Wisdom, guidance, peace, clarity
These I know you give
Please, please--share them.
February 19, 2005 - Revelation
Revelation
Current mood: stretchy
I bet it appeared as if finally I was going to write something deep with a title like that. Ha, wrong again. Today I learned something new, but it wasn't that exciting so I thought I would share it.
Latex gloves, the ambidextrous kind (wow, every glove could fit either hand, isn't that amazing?), they supposedly don't have powder on the inside but when you slide your hand into them it feels powdry inside. So it was raining outside and of course my hands were wet because that's what happens when precipitation touches them. With the task of doing some trashy work ahead, it was time to grab two gloves and slide them on my hands with style. That is...until I found that I couldn't slide my fingers into the slots where they belong. Soon I found myself tugging with all of my strength at the only hole in the glove, the place of insertion, to find that I was making progress...in creating another hole that is--defeating the purpose of wearing the gloves. I then had to dispose of the disposable glove (yes, that is where all of the school's funding goes into, the disposable glove fund, you should consider investing) and grab a new one! Think, now that means there remains in the box a bunch of pairs of gloves but one that will be left alone! A forever unsolvable problem, because suppose you open a new box and take 1 out of it to go with the last one in the former box--the next box has the same problem!
Anyway, to recapitulate my revelation in fewer words--latex gloves are hard to put on when your hands are wet.
Current mood: stretchy
I bet it appeared as if finally I was going to write something deep with a title like that. Ha, wrong again. Today I learned something new, but it wasn't that exciting so I thought I would share it.
Latex gloves, the ambidextrous kind (wow, every glove could fit either hand, isn't that amazing?), they supposedly don't have powder on the inside but when you slide your hand into them it feels powdry inside. So it was raining outside and of course my hands were wet because that's what happens when precipitation touches them. With the task of doing some trashy work ahead, it was time to grab two gloves and slide them on my hands with style. That is...until I found that I couldn't slide my fingers into the slots where they belong. Soon I found myself tugging with all of my strength at the only hole in the glove, the place of insertion, to find that I was making progress...in creating another hole that is--defeating the purpose of wearing the gloves. I then had to dispose of the disposable glove (yes, that is where all of the school's funding goes into, the disposable glove fund, you should consider investing) and grab a new one! Think, now that means there remains in the box a bunch of pairs of gloves but one that will be left alone! A forever unsolvable problem, because suppose you open a new box and take 1 out of it to go with the last one in the former box--the next box has the same problem!
Anyway, to recapitulate my revelation in fewer words--latex gloves are hard to put on when your hands are wet.
February 15, 2005 - Taunting, Transient Terror Revisited
Taunting transient terror, revisited...
"Taunting transient terror" thou have proved thyself not a sojourner, but rather stalwart in the tantalizing of my soul.
Have you come to materialize and show thyself to be an oasis and not a mirage? Or have I begun to fade, hiding behind the solid that creates me, from the light and become a shadow? Helpless, fettered to the movements of that which I hide behind. Only extant in the presence of light--that of which I hide from--the paradox of dependence upon its existence and yet it is what erases my existence.
Oh, terror, have you and I traded places?
"Taunting transient terror" thou have proved thyself not a sojourner, but rather stalwart in the tantalizing of my soul.
Have you come to materialize and show thyself to be an oasis and not a mirage? Or have I begun to fade, hiding behind the solid that creates me, from the light and become a shadow? Helpless, fettered to the movements of that which I hide behind. Only extant in the presence of light--that of which I hide from--the paradox of dependence upon its existence and yet it is what erases my existence.
Oh, terror, have you and I traded places?
January 15, 2005
"here come the questions
I dread to ask
overflowing out of my mouth
resting gently in your hand
and crushed the minute you close your fist"
-While I breathe, I hope- from their song "Hope for Thin Tolerance"
please don't close your fist
I dread to ask
overflowing out of my mouth
resting gently in your hand
and crushed the minute you close your fist"
-While I breathe, I hope- from their song "Hope for Thin Tolerance"
please don't close your fist
January 28, 2005 - Let's Get Drunk on Listerine!
Let's get drunk on LISTERINE!
Current mood: My breath smells good!
"Woman guilty of DUI after 3 glasses of Listerine"
That is the title of an article that I just read at cnn.com. Oh man, guys, seriously, we should go out clubbing! Cheap way to party! And the great thing is that you can still have good breath, a clean mouth, a 99.9% or whatever germ free mouth, all while being innebriated! All right! This is going to be the new thing, cuz I mean if you're clubbing and you've got some great listerine breath, how is anyone going to be able to resist that?
Just think, soon you will be able to walk into a bar and say, "Yeah...I'd like a shot of listerine please". What's great is that there are several flavors and this hasn't even been developed as an alcoholic drink! That means that people already have a wide selection to choose from, brilliant!
Seriously, invest in Listerine now. Think about it, if they already make enough money as being a "mouthwash", think of how much their stock will increase when it's marketed as the new alcoholic drink that cleans your teeth, gums, and gives you good breath! All the other companies are going to catch onto this quick, so take my advice and head on down to Wall Street and buy yoself some stock. It was only a matter of time, I mean they already have stuff like gum that whitens your teeth, so an alcoholic drink that cleans your teeth was clearly the next logical step.
I wonder what the edible mouth cleaning stuff craze holds in store. I'm thinking like, noodles that floss your teeth as you eat them. Edible floss! Isn't that ingenius?! I bet there are very few people out there that floss regularly, imagine how convenient this would make it to floss! Instant noodle floss that can be made straight from a package with boiling water in 3 minutes! Who would have thought that you would be flossing WHILE eating instead of flossing AFTER eating?
Guys, I think I have a hangover from the listerine. But, hey, at least my breath smells good.
Oh, if you want to read the article for yourself, here's the link: http://www.cnn.com/2005/LAW/01/27/mouthwash.dui.ap/index.html
Enjoy!
Current mood: My breath smells good!
"Woman guilty of DUI after 3 glasses of Listerine"
That is the title of an article that I just read at cnn.com. Oh man, guys, seriously, we should go out clubbing! Cheap way to party! And the great thing is that you can still have good breath, a clean mouth, a 99.9% or whatever germ free mouth, all while being innebriated! All right! This is going to be the new thing, cuz I mean if you're clubbing and you've got some great listerine breath, how is anyone going to be able to resist that?
Just think, soon you will be able to walk into a bar and say, "Yeah...I'd like a shot of listerine please". What's great is that there are several flavors and this hasn't even been developed as an alcoholic drink! That means that people already have a wide selection to choose from, brilliant!
Seriously, invest in Listerine now. Think about it, if they already make enough money as being a "mouthwash", think of how much their stock will increase when it's marketed as the new alcoholic drink that cleans your teeth, gums, and gives you good breath! All the other companies are going to catch onto this quick, so take my advice and head on down to Wall Street and buy yoself some stock. It was only a matter of time, I mean they already have stuff like gum that whitens your teeth, so an alcoholic drink that cleans your teeth was clearly the next logical step.
I wonder what the edible mouth cleaning stuff craze holds in store. I'm thinking like, noodles that floss your teeth as you eat them. Edible floss! Isn't that ingenius?! I bet there are very few people out there that floss regularly, imagine how convenient this would make it to floss! Instant noodle floss that can be made straight from a package with boiling water in 3 minutes! Who would have thought that you would be flossing WHILE eating instead of flossing AFTER eating?
Guys, I think I have a hangover from the listerine. But, hey, at least my breath smells good.
Oh, if you want to read the article for yourself, here's the link: http://www.cnn.com/2005/LAW/01/27/mouthwash.dui.ap/index.html
Enjoy!
January 23, 2005 - Taunting, Transiet, Terror
Taunting Transient Terror
The ghost whispers gentle words
Are they elements of truth
Or words meant to be unheard
Or do they say sooth*?
Oh you apparition of the mind
Do you speak of what ought to be
Or are your intentions unkind
With haste bring answers to set free
Ghoul of unsatisfaction why do you haunt
A fleeting thought thou are naught
Thy gentle words pierce and plague
Through a labyrinth of confusion they parade
Writhing wraith of cognition
Do you behold a clear vision
Eschew security, logic, wisdom, reason
To risk following a heart that seems to change with season?
Ethereal eidolon embodies extinct existance
Endless visitation of what was never born
Suffocating grip on to which you have no grasp
Over what is unreal you bring me to mourn
Scourging specter speak
Give me reason to listen
Differentiate--whimsical perfidy and painful honesty
Must what is good come to end?
Perilous phantom I await
For you to determine fate
Your answers so evasive
Yet your presence so pervasive
Will your shadow slowly fade
Or to reality incarnate?
*Sooth as in soothsayer, not soothe as in to calm*
The ghost whispers gentle words
Are they elements of truth
Or words meant to be unheard
Or do they say sooth*?
Oh you apparition of the mind
Do you speak of what ought to be
Or are your intentions unkind
With haste bring answers to set free
Ghoul of unsatisfaction why do you haunt
A fleeting thought thou are naught
Thy gentle words pierce and plague
Through a labyrinth of confusion they parade
Writhing wraith of cognition
Do you behold a clear vision
Eschew security, logic, wisdom, reason
To risk following a heart that seems to change with season?
Ethereal eidolon embodies extinct existance
Endless visitation of what was never born
Suffocating grip on to which you have no grasp
Over what is unreal you bring me to mourn
Scourging specter speak
Give me reason to listen
Differentiate--whimsical perfidy and painful honesty
Must what is good come to end?
Perilous phantom I await
For you to determine fate
Your answers so evasive
Yet your presence so pervasive
Will your shadow slowly fade
Or to reality incarnate?
*Sooth as in soothsayer, not soothe as in to calm*
January 23, 2005
Bad news friends...
Death has come. We all knew that it would come some day, but as I feared, its deathblow was sudden. Life was emptied. The midnight trash wraith was disposed of. There will be no recycling, he has been officially trashed.
Yes friends, I no longer am a trash man. I thought my reign of glory would never end. Aye, I remember the good days when I would bathe in the permeating stench of old coffee, stale pizza, and other randomness that blended together in the bag oh so well. Oh how the stench would stain me with its retired, faded beauty.
Truly, I am filled with bitter sadness, for I have nothing but good memories. No more tasting interesting items in the trash that appeared fresh and unadulterated by filth. No more secret treasures!
No more trashy ruminations brought about by the waste. Will my very cognition come to an end? It might as well, for I have nothing left. There is nothing left to inspire now that I no longer feel the embrace of the trash cans, or feel the clean trash bags caress my skin as I place it securely into the trash can. Trash, I love you, I need you. Do not leave me alone in these terrible times of despair.
Take away a man's trash and he is reduced to nothing.
The time has come for us to separate, alone we go, but together we decompose.
Death has come. We all knew that it would come some day, but as I feared, its deathblow was sudden. Life was emptied. The midnight trash wraith was disposed of. There will be no recycling, he has been officially trashed.
Yes friends, I no longer am a trash man. I thought my reign of glory would never end. Aye, I remember the good days when I would bathe in the permeating stench of old coffee, stale pizza, and other randomness that blended together in the bag oh so well. Oh how the stench would stain me with its retired, faded beauty.
Truly, I am filled with bitter sadness, for I have nothing but good memories. No more tasting interesting items in the trash that appeared fresh and unadulterated by filth. No more secret treasures!
No more trashy ruminations brought about by the waste. Will my very cognition come to an end? It might as well, for I have nothing left. There is nothing left to inspire now that I no longer feel the embrace of the trash cans, or feel the clean trash bags caress my skin as I place it securely into the trash can. Trash, I love you, I need you. Do not leave me alone in these terrible times of despair.
Take away a man's trash and he is reduced to nothing.
The time has come for us to separate, alone we go, but together we decompose.
November 19, 2004 - Inner Paradox
Inner Paradox
The feeling is so deceptive
Soothing yet oppressive
Drains, yet key to survival
This enemy has no rival
This confusion shrivels the soul
No clear thought to grab ahold
Distracts from the world around
Thoughts so loud, they make no sound
So I hide myself in you
For only in you, only in you
Can I find what is true
You are the only place I am not confused
The feeling is so deceptive
Soothing yet oppressive
Drains, yet key to survival
This enemy has no rival
This confusion shrivels the soul
No clear thought to grab ahold
Distracts from the world around
Thoughts so loud, they make no sound
So I hide myself in you
For only in you, only in you
Can I find what is true
You are the only place I am not confused
November 19, 2004 - Venustraphobia
Venustraphobia
(the fear of beautiful women)
I am afraid, oh so afraid
I fear this is the way I have been made
You are the climax of creation
Stumbling block of the nations
All that you do is glorious
Yes, yes, the reason for this phobia
When the sound of your voice reaches my ears
I begin to quiver with fear
Stupefied by your grace
I cannot bear to look upon thy face
You overwhelm my poor poor mind
Destroying any chance of coherent reply
For every step that you draw near
The likelihood of death become more clear
Do not underestimate
Your power to intimidate
(the fear of beautiful women)
I am afraid, oh so afraid
I fear this is the way I have been made
You are the climax of creation
Stumbling block of the nations
All that you do is glorious
Yes, yes, the reason for this phobia
When the sound of your voice reaches my ears
I begin to quiver with fear
Stupefied by your grace
I cannot bear to look upon thy face
You overwhelm my poor poor mind
Destroying any chance of coherent reply
For every step that you draw near
The likelihood of death become more clear
Do not underestimate
Your power to intimidate
October 1, 2004
Have you ever had one of those days where things are not going your way and a few things happen that seem like they should dampen your day? It is cool when that happens, especially when you do not even really know why you feel so good even though things may not be as you want them to be. You bang your head on a metal beam, does not phase you; you have your finger smashed, you yell and shake it off (not the finger of course); you feel exhausted, but inside there is this tiny bit of joy within you that you cannot explain. A joy that is for no reason--perhaps like the God-given peace that we cannot comprehend like in Philippians 4:7. Or am I digging farther than I need to, attributing this to something that is for no reason, so why should it have explanation?
March 18, 2004 - Great Quotes
"What do you want to be when you grow up Dan?"
- "A homicide victim." - Dan Norman (one of my roommates)
"Why are you a music major?"
- "Because they don't have a homicide victim major." - Dan Norman (again)
- "A homicide victim." - Dan Norman (one of my roommates)
"Why are you a music major?"
- "Because they don't have a homicide victim major." - Dan Norman (again)
February 28, 2004 - The Passion
...I just saw the Passion of the Christ...very, very, very good...All of you must see it if you can...It brought me closer to seeing what our Savior went through that day, although we may never really be able to see with our eyes what happened, this could be the next closest thing to being there. Something I never really thought about before was how intense His prayer was at the Mount of Olives and knowing beforehand what He was going to suffer through. I was just thinking, when you're emotionally overwhelmed sometimes it makes you feel quite weak. And that was emotional intensity at its highest level--making the pain that He endured even more insane and real in my mind. The torture was bad enough in itself but when you're weakened by the emotional intensity, how much worse.
His pain and exhaustion felt so real. Watching Him pushing Himself onward after being beaten so terribly and enduring through pain as He was ridiculed showed me a love so powerful--He suffered in love, through evil, for the sake of us all, even those that did such terrible things if they change their hearts. Such forgiveness and love in the face of abject depravity, cruelty, and foolish hatred amazes me.
I know these words are nothing new, but the fact that you can hear a story over and over and over again yet still be touched by it is cool. Everyone gets something different from different parts of the story, which I think is nifty.
Seriously, go out of you way to see it.
His pain and exhaustion felt so real. Watching Him pushing Himself onward after being beaten so terribly and enduring through pain as He was ridiculed showed me a love so powerful--He suffered in love, through evil, for the sake of us all, even those that did such terrible things if they change their hearts. Such forgiveness and love in the face of abject depravity, cruelty, and foolish hatred amazes me.
I know these words are nothing new, but the fact that you can hear a story over and over and over again yet still be touched by it is cool. Everyone gets something different from different parts of the story, which I think is nifty.
Seriously, go out of you way to see it.
February 25, 2004
The wind is back. Todays the wind seems to direct your path, causing you to turn (or more like stagger) to the left or right whenever it pleases. The thought of rebelling and going against the wind helps me understand the phrase "I lean against the wind and pretend that I am weightless". Wow.
Please forgive this pathetic city boy's awe at the wind. For all of you Bangkokians know that the proper phrase for us should be, "the smog leans against me and I discover I am lifeless" or "I lean agains the humidity and pretend/forget/dream that I am sweatless". What this has to do with wind, I'm not really sure either.
Please forgive this pathetic city boy's awe at the wind. For all of you Bangkokians know that the proper phrase for us should be, "the smog leans against me and I discover I am lifeless" or "I lean agains the humidity and pretend/forget/dream that I am sweatless". What this has to do with wind, I'm not really sure either.
February 18, 2004
The wind is insane. It's been blowing crazy powerful for the last two days. It's kinda cool to walk outside and be pushed around by the wind. The constant wishing and whirling and howling of it haunted me through the night, yet it was somehow soothing. Last night as I was walking with my trashbags to the big bin thing, the trashbags were thrust behind me and my pants caught the wind and were almost like the MC Hammer pants that if you jumped off of Taco Bell you would glide to safety but instead acted as sooper air-friction breaks. Along my journey to the great big blue bin of smelly happiness, I could not help but marvel at the Creator for His strangely beautiful and simple wonder. (How can you possibly describe the beauty of a rushing wind?) To think that this is less than the amount of air disturbed by Him wiggling his toes--the wind that blew me this way and that is nothing for Him. Also makes me think of when God appeared to Elijah, when the wind tore apart the mountains and earthquake and fire came, God was not in any of those, but came in a gentle whisper. Then Elijah comes out and covers his face with his cloak in response to this whisper--God is powerful! Veneration for the awesome is easy and His majesty is deafening sometimes leaving me dumb to His beckoning whisper.
Or maybe it was just the wind tossling my hair that created a pensive mood like in the movies.
Or maybe it was just the wind tossling my hair that created a pensive mood like in the movies.
December 10, 2003
Being a garbageman does something funny to you--I'm not sure what to call it, perhaps something like broadening your worldview. Or maybe it just changes the way you think altogether, you see the everything at a different angle. Anyway, to the point, I was emptying the trash in the girl's bathroom (a detail I'm sure all of you are glad that you are now informed of, yes, I do get to reconnoiter the strange and dangerous land of the land of girlbathroomia) and there were remnants of Ramen noodles (for all of you people fortunate enough to not know what they are, they are nasty American wannabe MaMa or WaiWai type things...stay away...toxic i tell you!) in there and I made the comment out loud, "Why would anyone put noodles in the trash? They don't belong in the trash!" One of my female co-workers or co-janitors or whatever we are supposed to call each other was cleaning in there too hear my comment and responded with, "Yeah, it's funny, you don't think about what you put into the trash until you have to take it out." This is so true! Now, everytime I go to put something in the trash I think about what I'm doing. When I'm working/emptying the trash in the gym/basketball court/chapel place building with the music department/student lounges/sports director offices/etc(a lot of stuff compacted into a small building really) I find myself analyzing what people put in the trash and ask myself, why? But, really, this is not a normal thing, because, usually you just put stuff in the trash without thinking right? Everything goes in the trash right? I wonder, does this make any of you paranoid now of what you put in the trash? Ok, I'm sorry that i went on for so long about trash, I don't know what is wrong with me. I must be obsessed or something as this is my 3rd blog or so about garbage to date.
While I'm talking about garbage, I might as well wish everyone a very merry and lovely Christmas. Hmm...I wonder if there will ever be a point that we use up all of our resources and so all of our "new" things will be made from "old" recycled things. I don't know what the connection between Christmas and that was...anyway, I'm sure I'll be back to blog before Christmas, so maybe then I'll do a better job of wishing you all a merry Christmas!
While I'm talking about garbage, I might as well wish everyone a very merry and lovely Christmas. Hmm...I wonder if there will ever be a point that we use up all of our resources and so all of our "new" things will be made from "old" recycled things. I don't know what the connection between Christmas and that was...anyway, I'm sure I'll be back to blog before Christmas, so maybe then I'll do a better job of wishing you all a merry Christmas!
November 15, 2003 - Short Poem
Leaps at you out of nowhere
Ordinary circumstance turn to gray skies
Never fails to attack without reason
Emancipate me from this
Life of dwelling in
Yesterday's memories
Ordinary circumstance turn to gray skies
Never fails to attack without reason
Emancipate me from this
Life of dwelling in
Yesterday's memories
November 9, 2003
"...Just you wait, one of these days you're going to wake up dead"
-Jeff Mitchum (one of my roommates) when addressing Daniel Barton (another of my roommates) about facing his Ninja Wrath!-
-Jeff Mitchum (one of my roommates) when addressing Daniel Barton (another of my roommates) about facing his Ninja Wrath!-
October 18, 2003 - Box
I wish I had a box. A little box that I could carry around with me everywhere. A box that you can fit in your pocket and pull out whenever you need it. A box that you can somehow put all your friends in so that when you miss them or just want to talk to someone that you've known for more than two and a half months and you share a history with, you can just pull them out of the box. That way you can keep the friends that make now and also keep and BRING the friends of old with you. But I guess life is not that simple, everything is always so complicated. Even if things are simple somehow they manage to complicate things. Somebody tell me where I can get a box. A happiness box.
October 18, 2003
The next time you throw something in the trash, think of me, think of the people that take out the trash for you. Obviously not the trash in the garbage can in your room or whatever, but like in a public place. But anyway, with my new job taking out trash in the gym I've found that I really dislike people that put half-full cups of coffee in the trash! I mean, why buy coffee so that you can throw it away? Drink it! Because when the trash is not full I just dump the trash into another bag that way we can conserve the trash bags! Anyway, you can't tell if there are liquids in the trash or not until you dump it into the other bag and viola, coffee and nasty liquid gets all over the place! Yes! I've found that I have a greater appreciation for trash-taker-outers now. I also hate people that don't put their gum in a wrapper before throwing it away. You find interesting things in the trash. Such as untouched whole sandwhiches, still in their bag, not even opened! Such wastrels people are! In my first week there I found a roll of tape that wasn't even all used up! What's up with that? Last week I found a cup from the cafeteria! (haha, not anymore!) Ok this is a bit weird, me telling of my garbage adventures. Next time, remember as you approach the garbage can, SOMEBODY is going to have to take it out!! So pause for a second and think about how grateful you are to the garbage people and make sure you aren't dumping liquid in there!
September 11, 2003
I don't like my computer class.
I don't have to take my computer class.
But I can't really drop it because there are two nerd/geeks who know much more than me and they are staying in the class.
The class is pretty much equivalent to what we did in 9th grade intro to computer's class, but only focusing on the Microsoft Office part. In other words, know everything we are going to do except Access.
I was really loathing the class because it was really boring and we had just been listening to the Prof. tell us stuff that I already know, and I'm not trying to sound like someone conceited, I'm serious...everyone knows the stuff that he was talking about, like what is a mouse? What right click does...wow...exciting huh?
But today was a better day because he let us plow through the book and work at our own pace, which was much better.
But now I am back at the loathing stage again. We are supposed to follow instructions to do stupid little sample letter things, and you don't just copy because they want you to be creative and know how to do it. So the point of it is that the format of the thing is correct and you know how to create the letters or memos or whatever.
Ok, so in the letters you have to make up stuff like i said earlier. The guy takes points off of my grade because I was repetitive. What's up with that?! Is it not the format of the thing and not the content that matters?! He also took off points for pushing the enter key one too many times between various sections, but that's justified because instructions weren't followed 100%.
I guess i'm slightly peeved. Not quite sure why I'm sharing that with all of you.
It's funny how such small dumb things can annoy us sometimes.
Sarah-I just found this on my computer, I forgot about it...but i thought of you when i heard it...try the Carole King feat. James Taylor version of "up on a roof"...good stuff. Yes, i was listening to Carole King, I must admit, she's got some good music. I'm a big fan of folk. J. Taylor, Garfunkel...that's the stuff.
This is going to be such a random blog.
I might as well write a bit about college now that I'm at it.
I never knew it would be so hard to get a job in college. Neither Cheri or I got the job in the library, apparently experience doesn't make a difference to those people. I mean, in addition to my TA experience in the library i worked in my dad's resource center/library for a couple years. One of my roommates sort of got a job there, he gets to substitute when someone is sick. Maybe it was all about the interview.
I suck at interviews.
Why do they have to ask you weird questions like: what are your strengths?; what are your weaknesses?; what could you contribute to the library if you worked here?. How would i know the answer to these questions?
Wow, I'm writing about such happy stuff aren't I? Hehe...
Contrary to the way my words appear, life is good. College seems pretty cool so far.
It's really cool, one of my friends that i hang out with the most is a MK from Taiwan. What's even cooler than that is that one of the leaders at the MK seminar at Biola earlier this summer new "David" because she was living in Taiwan, so she told cheri and i that he was going to Simpson too. The leader that told me this was the roommate of my Admissions Counselor! HOw crazy is that? So many small connections!
Anyway...life with 3 roommates keeps life interesting. End up doing stupid stuff sometimes late at night.
I miss Bkk. I miss the friendships and relationships that I spent most of my life building. I miss hanging out with those people and just chilling. You can do that with people here but some how it's just not the same. I miss my home. I miss real rice. I miss the pollution of Bangkok. I miss the humidity and heat.
Random thoughts yield random results i guess. Never sure whether I should begin attacking the backspace key or to leave these thoughts here.
I feel kinda stupid for the way i wrote about the computer thing. But hey, maybe it will make somebody laugh! hehe.
David, the MK guy is using my toilet(he's not one of my roommates) because his toilet is clogged and overflowed. He just got out. Maybe i should submit this before he comes and looks over my shoulder to see what i'm doing. Adios. Peace. God bless!
I don't have to take my computer class.
But I can't really drop it because there are two nerd/geeks who know much more than me and they are staying in the class.
The class is pretty much equivalent to what we did in 9th grade intro to computer's class, but only focusing on the Microsoft Office part. In other words, know everything we are going to do except Access.
I was really loathing the class because it was really boring and we had just been listening to the Prof. tell us stuff that I already know, and I'm not trying to sound like someone conceited, I'm serious...everyone knows the stuff that he was talking about, like what is a mouse? What right click does...wow...exciting huh?
But today was a better day because he let us plow through the book and work at our own pace, which was much better.
But now I am back at the loathing stage again. We are supposed to follow instructions to do stupid little sample letter things, and you don't just copy because they want you to be creative and know how to do it. So the point of it is that the format of the thing is correct and you know how to create the letters or memos or whatever.
Ok, so in the letters you have to make up stuff like i said earlier. The guy takes points off of my grade because I was repetitive. What's up with that?! Is it not the format of the thing and not the content that matters?! He also took off points for pushing the enter key one too many times between various sections, but that's justified because instructions weren't followed 100%.
I guess i'm slightly peeved. Not quite sure why I'm sharing that with all of you.
It's funny how such small dumb things can annoy us sometimes.
Sarah-I just found this on my computer, I forgot about it...but i thought of you when i heard it...try the Carole King feat. James Taylor version of "up on a roof"...good stuff. Yes, i was listening to Carole King, I must admit, she's got some good music. I'm a big fan of folk. J. Taylor, Garfunkel...that's the stuff.
This is going to be such a random blog.
I might as well write a bit about college now that I'm at it.
I never knew it would be so hard to get a job in college. Neither Cheri or I got the job in the library, apparently experience doesn't make a difference to those people. I mean, in addition to my TA experience in the library i worked in my dad's resource center/library for a couple years. One of my roommates sort of got a job there, he gets to substitute when someone is sick. Maybe it was all about the interview.
I suck at interviews.
Why do they have to ask you weird questions like: what are your strengths?; what are your weaknesses?; what could you contribute to the library if you worked here?. How would i know the answer to these questions?
Wow, I'm writing about such happy stuff aren't I? Hehe...
Contrary to the way my words appear, life is good. College seems pretty cool so far.
It's really cool, one of my friends that i hang out with the most is a MK from Taiwan. What's even cooler than that is that one of the leaders at the MK seminar at Biola earlier this summer new "David" because she was living in Taiwan, so she told cheri and i that he was going to Simpson too. The leader that told me this was the roommate of my Admissions Counselor! HOw crazy is that? So many small connections!
Anyway...life with 3 roommates keeps life interesting. End up doing stupid stuff sometimes late at night.
I miss Bkk. I miss the friendships and relationships that I spent most of my life building. I miss hanging out with those people and just chilling. You can do that with people here but some how it's just not the same. I miss my home. I miss real rice. I miss the pollution of Bangkok. I miss the humidity and heat.
Random thoughts yield random results i guess. Never sure whether I should begin attacking the backspace key or to leave these thoughts here.
I feel kinda stupid for the way i wrote about the computer thing. But hey, maybe it will make somebody laugh! hehe.
David, the MK guy is using my toilet(he's not one of my roommates) because his toilet is clogged and overflowed. He just got out. Maybe i should submit this before he comes and looks over my shoulder to see what i'm doing. Adios. Peace. God bless!
September 02, 2003
Well...here i am...sitting in my dorm room listening to the bass reverberating through the wall from the room across the hall as they watch some action flick...oooh, just got more exciting, i heard some drum beats and helicopters flying and explosions....
ok, that was really dumb.
to the point. wait, what is the point? i had my first class today at 8:00...yeehaw, exciting....it was intro. to computers, which i am thinking that i really do not need to be taking and maybe should drop cuz it's all office xp stuff...very basic stuff....but there are a few guys that are really computer smart i guess, and if they stay then maybe i should since i know a lot less...i dunno...not sure how i ended up in the class...but oh well...
my next class is not until 2:40 pm. and i don't have any homework today...so yeah...what to do with my time? i was thinking of taking a nap...but...dunno...i think i will sit here and blab on trivial matters that no one really cares about and take up YOUR time when you decide to read this...if you do
hmm...what to write about...don't want to write anything that cheri already wrote...
loooks like college life will be quite interesting...everyone seems pretty friendly, which still kinda catches me off-guard...i can't remember people's names very well...i usually forget after i shake their hand...always feel bad when i see 'em later and don't know their name...hehe....
seems like almost everyone i've talked to has really been brought here by God...i'm actually stealing from someone else's observation last night...sorry! but...yeah, you don't hear people saying i don't wanna be here or, "simpson looked like a nice school so i came"...
to set up a fone in the room is a pain...i'm sharing the fone with one of my 3 roomies...we each have our own fone number, but that would get expensive...they say it will take up to 5 days to get me the stupid little dial tone...how long could it take to get that little buzz sound working?
haha...funny story, one of the bob marley flag-type things in my room that one of my friends from ics gave has a few cannabis leaves on it...and by accident i left it on my bed or something when we were moving in the room...we left and did other stuff...and one of the roommies parents saw that and was like "you'd better watch out for him"...hehe...found that out yesterday...made me kinda worried....but yeah...no cannabis for me!
a quick question for you people that have been in college for a longer period of time...when does it seem real? when does it finally click in your head that this is semi-permanent, that you're not at some camp thing and you aren't going home in a week or so?
like cheri, i'm hoping to get a job in the library...ironic huh? since i continually complained about being TA last year....but oh well..i'm hoping my experience will be helpful...cuz i really need to get a job...oh well...we'll see
college food is interesting...that's all i have to say about it so far...
well....blah blah...enough for now....
ok, that was really dumb.
to the point. wait, what is the point? i had my first class today at 8:00...yeehaw, exciting....it was intro. to computers, which i am thinking that i really do not need to be taking and maybe should drop cuz it's all office xp stuff...very basic stuff....but there are a few guys that are really computer smart i guess, and if they stay then maybe i should since i know a lot less...i dunno...not sure how i ended up in the class...but oh well...
my next class is not until 2:40 pm. and i don't have any homework today...so yeah...what to do with my time? i was thinking of taking a nap...but...dunno...i think i will sit here and blab on trivial matters that no one really cares about and take up YOUR time when you decide to read this...if you do
hmm...what to write about...don't want to write anything that cheri already wrote...
loooks like college life will be quite interesting...everyone seems pretty friendly, which still kinda catches me off-guard...i can't remember people's names very well...i usually forget after i shake their hand...always feel bad when i see 'em later and don't know their name...hehe....
seems like almost everyone i've talked to has really been brought here by God...i'm actually stealing from someone else's observation last night...sorry! but...yeah, you don't hear people saying i don't wanna be here or, "simpson looked like a nice school so i came"...
to set up a fone in the room is a pain...i'm sharing the fone with one of my 3 roomies...we each have our own fone number, but that would get expensive...they say it will take up to 5 days to get me the stupid little dial tone...how long could it take to get that little buzz sound working?
haha...funny story, one of the bob marley flag-type things in my room that one of my friends from ics gave has a few cannabis leaves on it...and by accident i left it on my bed or something when we were moving in the room...we left and did other stuff...and one of the roommies parents saw that and was like "you'd better watch out for him"...hehe...found that out yesterday...made me kinda worried....but yeah...no cannabis for me!
a quick question for you people that have been in college for a longer period of time...when does it seem real? when does it finally click in your head that this is semi-permanent, that you're not at some camp thing and you aren't going home in a week or so?
like cheri, i'm hoping to get a job in the library...ironic huh? since i continually complained about being TA last year....but oh well..i'm hoping my experience will be helpful...cuz i really need to get a job...oh well...we'll see
college food is interesting...that's all i have to say about it so far...
well....blah blah...enough for now....
May 19, 2003 - Thai Politics
Thaksin is a funny man.
I guess this is somewhat of an overdue comment, but seriously, the prime minister of Thailand has got some funny ideas. Thaksin comes up with the most ridiculous, ambitious, impossible plans for Thailand, makes you wonder where he gets these strange ideas from. I'm not quite sure why I am writing about Thaksin, but don't you find it funny that he declared that Thailand would be completely drug free by April first? Thailand?! Drug free?! Sounds like a joke.
As if that wasn't enough, his new thing as of late is to remove all pirated computer software from Thailand. Haha! Imagine Thailand without Pantip? He declared that he would begin this program on May 1st, my parents went down there that day and although all the stalls were closed you could still very easily get bootleg dvd's and stuff.
Back when all the SARs stuff was happening, Thaksin got a little too excited and declared Thailand SARS-free!
I'm not quite sure why i wrote this, i mean i'm not into politics or whatever that is and i don't hate or like Thaksin to my knowledge. This probably sounds kind of like an editorial with barely any substance...oops. Just observations I guess.
I guess this is somewhat of an overdue comment, but seriously, the prime minister of Thailand has got some funny ideas. Thaksin comes up with the most ridiculous, ambitious, impossible plans for Thailand, makes you wonder where he gets these strange ideas from. I'm not quite sure why I am writing about Thaksin, but don't you find it funny that he declared that Thailand would be completely drug free by April first? Thailand?! Drug free?! Sounds like a joke.
As if that wasn't enough, his new thing as of late is to remove all pirated computer software from Thailand. Haha! Imagine Thailand without Pantip? He declared that he would begin this program on May 1st, my parents went down there that day and although all the stalls were closed you could still very easily get bootleg dvd's and stuff.
Back when all the SARs stuff was happening, Thaksin got a little too excited and declared Thailand SARS-free!
I'm not quite sure why i wrote this, i mean i'm not into politics or whatever that is and i don't hate or like Thaksin to my knowledge. This probably sounds kind of like an editorial with barely any substance...oops. Just observations I guess.
May 11, 2003 - Garbage
Have you ever wondered or ever thought about how stupid garbage bags are? Not the actual garbage bag, but the fact that the people that sell them put them in another plastic bag, how dumb is that? I realized this after thinking about it for the first time in many of the times I've gone to take out the garbage. When you open a new pack of garbage bags you can't go and throw the bag that it was packaged in until you put the garbage bag that was inside of it into the garbage can! My goodness, how pathetic is that? Ok, maybe I'm a little strange, but doesn't it seem odd? Why do we make more garbage by packaging garbage bags? I wonder if this sounds at all environmentalisticish or not...?
May 04, 2003 - "My Melancholy"
My Melancholy
It shadows me
Its haunting
Its relentless
Its like a fog that refuses to lift
Where does it come from?
What is its source?
It is different every time
I've tried to run and hide
My melancholy
You never fail to turn the sky gray
Oh why do you haunt me?
Why do yo umake me feel this way?
I've seen it all before
For some reason I still want more
I don't even know how I feel
Everything's so confusing, it's so surreal
This weight on my chest has no reason,
but can dampen a day, no matter the season
Enveloped in a purple haze,
I hope it never goes away.
It shadows me
Its haunting
Its relentless
Its like a fog that refuses to lift
Where does it come from?
What is its source?
It is different every time
I've tried to run and hide
My melancholy
You never fail to turn the sky gray
Oh why do you haunt me?
Why do yo umake me feel this way?
I've seen it all before
For some reason I still want more
I don't even know how I feel
Everything's so confusing, it's so surreal
This weight on my chest has no reason,
but can dampen a day, no matter the season
Enveloped in a purple haze,
I hope it never goes away.
April 10, 2003
Stuff from the past comes back to slap you in the back of the head, making you feel stupid. The particular instance that I have in mind is of no major significance but reminds me of how much things change over such short periods of time. I had written something that at the time, felt like it meant something to me. Jump forwards an unspecified pocket of time and you find me banging my head. These things hurt or make you feel stupid the most when they are things you cannot erase or take back and are forever there.
This got me thinking(oh, no...not a goodness thing) about the significance and relevance of what seems so important to us now, to the rest of our life. It is kind of mind boggling and confusing to think about this. These thoughts hamper and distort the view of life. Could our goals, purpose, and reason in and for life be all wrong now? Will I look back a couple years or even a year from now and feel foolish for the way I lived and how I viewed everything, or will I be content? It's funny how much we change, even with moods. It's funny how such a little dumb thing can get you thinking so much.
This got me thinking(oh, no...not a goodness thing) about the significance and relevance of what seems so important to us now, to the rest of our life. It is kind of mind boggling and confusing to think about this. These thoughts hamper and distort the view of life. Could our goals, purpose, and reason in and for life be all wrong now? Will I look back a couple years or even a year from now and feel foolish for the way I lived and how I viewed everything, or will I be content? It's funny how much we change, even with moods. It's funny how such a little dumb thing can get you thinking so much.
April 10, 2003 - Maya and Cosmic Humanism
"It's all maya." This has been an ongoing joke between Zach and I and I guess most of the worldview class ever since we began learning about cosmic humanism and Hinduism a few months ago. Allow me to be clear before I begin off on my stream-of-consciousness style writing that is usually incoherent and incomprehensible and leads to or means something that I did not intend for. I am not becoming a Hindu or getting into "new age" nonsense, I am merely learning something from it.
Back to the point..."maya" literally means illusion. What we learned in worldview class is that they view (I am cognizant of the possibility that it could all be terribly misrepresented and misunderstood, I don't mean to portray these beliefs the wrong way )the world only on the spiritual level and only believe in the existence of the spiritual realm, thus all that is material is "maya"...illusory. Personally I do not believe in this, but that God personally created the material for us to take care of and enjoy. I don't want to get all preachy or try to get into some deep theological or philosophical thought or whatever the right word is because I would be in over my head. Anyway, learning about this view of the world that the "cosmic humanists" hold, I couldn't help but admire some of the aspects of this view in its pure form. I guess this is because of my Christian worldview and we are always admonished to not be attached to earthly belongings, etc. (i.e. material stuff) because it is ephemeral. We believe in the existence of both the spiritual and material realms that God created personally, but the spiritual realm is eternal. I realize that this is something that we hear all too often from everyone, but somehow learning about "maya" and how people believe all that we see, touch, feel is just an illusion, it made me admire that view. I admit that I really get caught in the midst of material greed all the time and it just made me wish that sometimes I could live my life as if it were all "maya". If we all lived as if everything is an illusion, would we have better sight of our purpose in life and God's calling? Don't get me wrong, I know everything is real, but sometimes it would be neat if we could live that way. But God did create the material for a reason. Other than that over-examined tiny little point of that worldview, I don't see much truth in the belief.
Back to the point..."maya" literally means illusion. What we learned in worldview class is that they view (I am cognizant of the possibility that it could all be terribly misrepresented and misunderstood, I don't mean to portray these beliefs the wrong way )the world only on the spiritual level and only believe in the existence of the spiritual realm, thus all that is material is "maya"...illusory. Personally I do not believe in this, but that God personally created the material for us to take care of and enjoy. I don't want to get all preachy or try to get into some deep theological or philosophical thought or whatever the right word is because I would be in over my head. Anyway, learning about this view of the world that the "cosmic humanists" hold, I couldn't help but admire some of the aspects of this view in its pure form. I guess this is because of my Christian worldview and we are always admonished to not be attached to earthly belongings, etc. (i.e. material stuff) because it is ephemeral. We believe in the existence of both the spiritual and material realms that God created personally, but the spiritual realm is eternal. I realize that this is something that we hear all too often from everyone, but somehow learning about "maya" and how people believe all that we see, touch, feel is just an illusion, it made me admire that view. I admit that I really get caught in the midst of material greed all the time and it just made me wish that sometimes I could live my life as if it were all "maya". If we all lived as if everything is an illusion, would we have better sight of our purpose in life and God's calling? Don't get me wrong, I know everything is real, but sometimes it would be neat if we could live that way. But God did create the material for a reason. Other than that over-examined tiny little point of that worldview, I don't see much truth in the belief.
April 02, 2003
Holy fried rice with too many onions in it! The reality that I am a high school senior has once again dawned on me--and I cannot stand the thought of it. At the end of two days from now spring break begins and everyone will make short sojourns through random places throughout the globe--well, maybe not with the SARS (severe acute respiratory syndrome for the uninformed) scare going on throughout south-east Asia. This thing is really serious. I was glancing through the newspaper today, and they were saying that SARS is going to have a worse affect on Thailand than the war in Iraq. I realize that that maybe a slightly exaggerated statement, but still, it grabs your attention. They are saying that billions/millions of baht will be lost in tourism revenue due to the SARS scare. That's a mucho grande amount of money lost. I didn't realize how serious this was until I read in the newspaper that sixty-three people have died from this disease in twelve countries alone. That's serious. What really got me to read the newspaper though, was the note that they sent home from the school administration. They say that if you go to any countries that have reported cases of SARS that when you come back you are required to stay home for fourteen days, otherwise you suffer punishment by government-fines of up to ten thousand baht and six months in prison. This got me thinking, if the government is this serious about this then it must be a big deal. I realize that news had been going on about this for a while, so maybe my thoughts are already jaded and hackneyed by now, but all of this just hit me today. I have to admit, it does seem rather low to say that the SARS is worse than the war in Iraq because of the money that Thailand is going to lose, but what if this disease turns out to really be worse than the war? What if this turns out to be a modern day influenza-like plague(hey, the symptoms are quite similar to it aren't they? but i'm talking about the one...i can't remember when, but it wiped out a lot of people), that is a very scary thought isn't it? Ok, maybe I had better stop, I'm starting to think too hard and freak myself out.
Hmmm...ok. I started out writing about how I am realizing that I am a senior again until I wandered off on the SARS tangent. As I was saying, I can't believe that we are seniors. What really startled me was how one week after spring break is the senior trip, a week after that is the h.s. banquet, two weeks after that is graduation. It's all badda-bing-badda-boom-like in these last two months. It's going to go fast. I'm not ready to leave my home. I'm not ready to leave my friends. I'm not ready to leave my family. I'm not ready to start anew. I'm not ready to leave the only school I've ever really known. I am not ready. I am not ready.
Hmmm...ok. I started out writing about how I am realizing that I am a senior again until I wandered off on the SARS tangent. As I was saying, I can't believe that we are seniors. What really startled me was how one week after spring break is the senior trip, a week after that is the h.s. banquet, two weeks after that is graduation. It's all badda-bing-badda-boom-like in these last two months. It's going to go fast. I'm not ready to leave my home. I'm not ready to leave my friends. I'm not ready to leave my family. I'm not ready to start anew. I'm not ready to leave the only school I've ever really known. I am not ready. I am not ready.
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