I've got a friend in you

I was thinking about why I have a blog the other day. At the beginning, I told myself I created one just for the fun of it, but that wasn't it. If I really thought about it, it was because I figured it was a place I could get all of my thoughts out, that no one wanted to hear. I always felt self conscious about what I said to my friends. So basically, this blog was where I let my thoughts out and those who wanted to hear about them could just read this.
I don't feel like that anymore. I have someone that gets me. It's such a wonderful feeling to know someone understands what you're thinking. It's wonderful to know that you're not alone. I have someone and now, we can fight this together.
I'll still write here, but not for the same reasons.

L-O-V-E It's for you and me.

I feel it. I feel it truly. I feel it truly in everyway. I feel it truly in everyway and everywhere. It's a real love in every shape and form. It is a love that can only come from my maker. The one who is the maker of heaven and earth. The one who created perfect tiger lilies and the raging fire in the sky. Him.
It's a love no one can match up to. A love that reverberates from the rustling of leaves in the wind or from the electric chills that race through you as rain falls upon you. A love that leaves traces of salty water upon my cheeks. It's a love that is too awesome and ahmazing to even understand fully.
There is nothing to hear. It's not really all that palpable. It can't be seen by just a glance. I don't even understand how much there really is. I can't even come close to comprehending all that it is. There is no way that I can even reciprocate it.
Yet, through every leaf that crunches beneath my feet, every bout of chilling wind that cools my cheeks, every dog and tree shaped cloud, every bit of laughter resonating in the air, I know it's there. And most importantly, through every black letter on the pages of that worn leather bound book, I just know it exists...and that it's all mine.

"I was just being polite."

I absolutely can't stand the phrase, "how are you?" It's supposed to be this wonderful magic phrase that shows that someone cares enough to ask about you, but I don't think it to be this at all. I just don't think people realize the full meaning of what they are asking. The phrase "how are you" holds, what could be a truly complex and potentially mood altering answer. Those simple 3 words could hold the key to an emotional meltdown. Those 3 words could lead up to the best news ever. They could lead up to the worst news ever. Or they could be motivation for the most monotonous story ever. As anticlimatic as that was, it is true. So before you dare uttering that phrase, think if you really care about how that other is.

Where's a time machine?

I'm so frustrated with where/when I live. I just don't fit in. My music taste is different. My ideas of fun are different. I don't date nor do I want to. I'm in love with an extinct art form and God knows what else. It isn't my placement on the globe or a difference of a decade or two. It's plain as day, a full 200 years. I've definitely touched a little bit into this when I proclaimed my feelings about the feminist movement, and you know what? They have only greatened. I feel like I'm living a nightmare that I will never wake up from. And then I go and try to tell someone what I mean..and they don't understand. I always get a "you're weird" or a "umm..that's different" and not much else. Is it really that hard to grasp? Is my thought process that far away from others? I don't know and that is why I'm frustrated.
Honestly, the only problem I'd have with living 200 years ago would probably not being able to bathe frequently and not being able to quench my insatiable thirst for knowledge since my standing is of the wonderful female persuasion. Lonely Alaska calls. A place where I can ostracize myself from the world.

Why oh, Why!?

I really wish that I understood God sometimes. I don't know how to elaborate on that except that I wish I understood why he wants to love me and watch out for me. Why he wants to do this and will not turn on me, ever. I just don't get it.

Giving thanks to the little things in life.

Ode to Socks
All ten little toes are screaming with joy.
Heels all around the world sigh with relief.
Too close for comfort are the rubber soles.
But thanks to the socks, we don't have to fear.
You are shut far away in the darkness,
Thrown into the mountain of dirt and sweat.
You're tragically taken from your mate,
Never to be reunited again.
Yet, there's no need to feel neglected, socks.
The special things you do for my two feet
Always leave me in great awe and wonder.
And from deep within, gratitude flows out.

Oh, you of little faith.

What will be left when I've drawn my last breath
Besides the folks I've met and the folks who've known me
Will I discover a soul saving love
Or just the dirt above and below me?

I'm a doubting Thomas
I took a promise
But I do not feel safe
Oh, me of little faith

Sometimes I pray for a slap in the face
Then I beg to be spared cause I'm a coward
If there's a master of death
I bet he's holding his breath
As I show the blind and tell the deaf about his power

I'm a doubting Thomas
I can't keep my promise
Cause I don't know what's safe
Oh, me of little faith

Can I be used to help other find truth
When I'm scared I'll find proof that it's a lie
Can I be led down a trail of dropping bread crumbs
That prove I'm not ready to die?

Please give me time to decipher the signs
Please forgive me for the time that I've wasted

I'm a doubting Thomas
I'll take your promise
Though I know nothing's safe
Oh, me of little faith

--Doubting Thomas by Nickel Creek

Let's Dance

"When life becomes a drag, I dance."

Dancing is a big ball of fun. Really it is. I love to dance around and just go crazy. I honestly don't think what I do can be qualified as dancing, but I don't think half of the way society dances today can be either. Actually, what I do is more of dancing than everyone else. It's so much more than physicality. Anyways... Being able to drop all pretenses and just dance your heart out is so...invigorating. And when you find a song that just gets you going, it's perfect.
...and maybe one day I'll find a class where I can learn the Jitterbug. Then I'll actually be able to dance for real. Won't that be fun?

Slacker.

I've been slacking a bit with this blog. But you know what? I started school. It is so allowed.

I don't think you can really appreciate the ahmazingness of God's creation until you attempt to draw or paint it. I can barely comprehend the beauty. It's unfathomable.

It's magnificent

Green. Green is a glorious color. No, I'm not talking about the green you see in that really cute shirt or the green you see painted across the walls of that building over there. I'm talking about the green you see in a new &freshly cut lawn. I'm talking about the green you see surrounding that fire red hibiscus blooming on the side of the winding Hawaiian road. I'm talking about the green that encompasses the whole rainforest. I'm talking about the green that covers the rolling hills of Scotland and Ireland. You know where else that green is? It's across hills in Mexico from Guadalajara to Autlan. You know what else? It's beautiful.
As the summer rain pitter-patters everywhere, the green that is so alive and vivid is taking a big long drink so they can proclaim God's glory and power. Yes, even the trees and flowers are glorifying God. By blooming and going through their life cycle they showcase how powerful God is. How beautiful God is. How creative He is. How glorious God is.
Yes, green really is a glorious color.

Can you hear it?

"A man is born into this world with only a tiny spark of goodness in him. The spark is God, it is the soul; the rest is ugliness and evil, a shell. The spark must be guarded like a treasure, it must be nurtured, it must be fanned into flame. It must learn to seek out other sparks, it must dominate the shell. Anything can be a shell, Reuven. Anything. Indifference, laziness, brutality, and genius. Yes, even a great mind can be a shell and choke the spark.
"Reuven, the Master of the Universe blessed me with a brilliant son. And he cursed me with all the problems of raising him. Ah, what it is to have a brilliant son! Not a smart son, Reuven, but a brilliant son, a Daniel, a boy with a mind like a jewel. Ah, what a curse it is, what an anguish it is to have a Daniel, whose mind is like a pearl, like a sun. Reuven, when my Daniel was four years old, I saw him reading a story from a book. And I was frightened. He did not read the story, he swallowed it, as one swallows food or water. There was no soul in my four-year-old Daniel, there was only his mind. He was a mind in a body without a soul. It was a story in a Yiddish book about a poor Jew and his struggles to get to Eretz Yisroel before he died. Ah, how that man suffered! And my Daniel enjoyed the story, he enjoyed the last terrible page, because when he finished it he realized for the first time what a memory he had. He looked at me proudly and told me back the story from memory, and I cried inside my heart. I went away and cried to the Master of the Universe, 'What have you done to me? A mind like this I need for a son? A heart I need for a son, a soul I need for a son, compassion I want from my son, righteousness, mercy, strength to suffer and carry pain, that I want from my son, not a mind without a soul!' "
"...How will I teach this mind what it is to have a soul? How will I teach this mind to understand pain? How will I teach it to want to take on another person's suffering? How will I do this and not lose my son, my precious son whom I love as I love the Master of the Universe Himself? ...I did not want him to grow up a mind without a soul."
"...In the silence between us, he began to hear the world crying."

A favor, please?

Break out of your box and listen to country music. When you do this, make it Nickel Creek. They are absolutlely great.

Look! Shiny!

I watched the fireworks in my city on Fourth of July just like everyone and their mothers. And while watching them, I came to a conclusion: Humans are so easily entertained. It really is quite ridiculous. I, honestly, wasn't all that entertained, but everyone around me was. "OOOOH!" and "AHHH!" was heard frequently and I couldn't help but laugh. I mean, most of us watch fireworks every year, and yet, we act like we've never seen them a single time before.

People are great.
But then, there I go raving about how people are so easily entertained when I'm entertained by those people who are so easily entertained(wow, did that make a lot of sense or what?). This obviously means, I'm an easily entertained human too.
God, you created some fantastic people.

Swords vs Guns

Swords or guns? Which is better? I don't know about you, but I think swords own. They will come out on top of guns anyday.
So, you're probably thinking who writes a blog about swords? People who have a fetish or an obsession with swords; that's who. But is it really such a hard concept to understand? Why wouldn't you like swords? They're awesome. Here are reasons why swords rock the weapon world:

• first and foremost: have you ever pulled a gun out of a sheath?
• the sound a sword makes when it hits another sword
• it takes real skill to handle a sword
• swords are beautiful in their own way
• pulling a sword out of its sheath makes the best sound
• guns are loud (I happen to like being able to hear.)
• they're a piece of art
• the footwork is like an art; a dance almost
• they're the more honorable weapon
• swords are just much more fun

There you have it. Just a few reasons why swords win. Yeah, you might be thinking that guns are way awesome, but just think about it. Swords are great. How can you not like swords? Besides, guns are just the easy way out. But when I watch a sword fight; it really just makes me want to learn how to fence. And you know what? That just went on my list of things I want to learn before I die. I'm set for life now.

Don't get me wrong, though. Guns are useful. I've been known to have fun shooting a BB gun. They're also quite helpful when it comes to hunting (though, I think using a bow and arrow would be much better...but that's a whole other subject). And yes, where would the western TV show world be without guns? I'd say nowhere. Which would make me sad because those happen to be a big chunk of what I watch on TV. But when it comes to killing people, swords are the best way to go. By far.

So if you ever plan on killing someone, make your weapon a sword. You'll be all the more chivalrous for it.

And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
-Matthew 18:3

So, as I said before, I helped out in VBS. Well, it is now over, and I am absolutely pooped. It's hard to believe that working 3 and a half hours for only five days could really wear you out. But, believe me, it can! If I wasn't at the beach, I would have been napping my afternoon away on Friday.
But, even through the annoying chatter, obnoxious screaming, and all the water being dumped on you, it is still worth it. No matter what... I love little kids for more than their weird stories and cute faces. I love them for their willingness too. Their willingness to listen and accept.
The main goal of VBS is to bring kids to Christ, and when you learn of that happening, it's so great. It makes everything worth it. One of the little girls in my group accepted Christ this week, and it made me so happy. What made it all worth it though, is what she asked me.

After the prayer she said, she asked me this: "If I'm in God's family, who am I related to?" Well, that one question made my day and my week. I was able to answer back and say that she is my sister now. The look of pure happiness on her face was so awesome. I almost started crying of joy on the spot. She was so eager to learn, so eager to listen, and just so happy. That's why Jesus says we should come to him like children.
Seeing God work in even six year olds lets you know that God can and will do anything. And being one of the people to witness God's work proves how much God loves me. That's what makes it all worth it, and that's what gets me to keep on coming back.

When I was your age...

Little kids are so great. By little, I mean 1st grade and under. They say the greatest things. If you really just listen to them and have a conversation, you can be entertained for a long time. Yes, once they finish talking you realize that their story went absolutely no where, but was still fun to listen to. One of my personal favorite conversations was with this little girl. I was helping out in children's church and she had to go to the bathroom.
Me: "There's a special little girl's bathroom right around the corner."
Little girl: "Ok. Guess what!"
Me: "What!?"
Little girl: "My mom makes me go to the bathroom everyday!"
Me: "Everyday? That's a really good thing."
Little girl: "Really? Why is it good?"
Me: "Because when you get older, you may have to go more than once a day!"
Little girl: "WOW!"

This week I'm working at my church's VBS (Vacation Bible School), and I'm a helper with first grade. First grade is really...great too. Today, while they were doing crafts, I talked with one of the girls. She was telling me that her mom never wants her to do crafts because her mom is always afraid of her spilling everything. Then she told me that her mom worries for no reason because she (the girl) always wears skirts and shorts. Meaning, you can wipe everything off of her if she drops stuff because her legs are not covered.
After that conversation, I talked to one of the boys. He was telling me that glue doesn't taste half bad. He then launched off into a speech on the way it tastes. Little kids rule. Hands down. I'm sure I was a fabulous kid too. One of those crazy ones. Yep, that was me. I know it. I found this one old picture the other day of me in only my diaper. My hair was all askew in two thin ponytails on the side of my head. I was standing in the hall of my house and in my hand was black marker. My lips and stomach were black. I was a ham for sure.
That is my proof on why little kids are great.

Alaska or bust

Have you ever been to Alaska? I have this incredible want, and it's to go to Alaska. You know, an even better word for it would be yearning. People write off Alaska because its cold. My sister thinks me to be absolutely out of my mind because I want to go there. Let me put it in her words.

My sister: "ALASKA!!? Are you completely insane!?? It's like 100 below zero there. You'll be frozen and then die and then we'll (my family) have to travel up there so we can bury you because we won't be able to ship you down to California because we don't have money. And because of your choice to move up to Alaska we'll freeze and die too because we just had to go up and give you a proper burial."
Me: "I should believe you because you complain about it being SO SO cold when it's 70 degrees outside."
My sister: "If you don't freeze to death, you'll sit in your house and grow depressed because you won't see the sun for months on end. Then we'll come up to take your body because you died of depression. Either way you die"

How she survived in Germany for a school year, I'll never know. On the other hand, my cousin believes a move to Alaska is a great idea. He took a completely different approach. His approach: Husband Hunting.

My cousin: "Chloe, I think that's a perfect idea to go to Alaska. You'll find some of the best husbands up there."
Me: "Really, Aven? How do you come up with that?"
My cousin: "Well, if you go to Alaska, you'll find a husband that knows how to work. As opposed to one in California-mainly SoCal-that never works for anything. The problem with Southern Californian guys is that they're always in the fast lane. The never want to meet reality head on. Alaskan men are good, hard workers driving in the slow lane. You can't go wrong there."
Me: "Thanks for the advice, Aven."

Mind you, my cousin is ten...and I'm fifteen. My mom just had to throw in that up in Alaska the ratio of men to women is 8 to 1. If it's anything like when the Yukon Gold Rush happened, my chances of proposal are high. As much as my cousin might think it's a good idea to go up to Alaska for husband hunting, that is most definitely not my reason. My reason is way different.

Nature. That is all there is to it. Have you ever looked at the vast expanse of undisturbed land? It is absolutely breathtaking. So pristine and perfect. I know a man who was in Alaska just last week. This man is a pastor and 93. He happens to be one of the most ahmazing men I have ever met. Well, my mom mentioned that I want to live in Alaska, so he described his experience as best as he could and it was one word. Tranquility. He didn't know this, but tranquility is one of my favorite words. This place is perfect for me. Another thing he told me was this: "If you told me that an athiest went up to Alaska and came back as an athiest still, I wouldn't believe you." The fact that he said that made me smile. [Idea-I'll take Skandar Keynes with me...]

At the moment, the plan is to stay there for a year so I can experience all seasons. By that time I'll have then acquired my Alaskan Malamutes and/or Siberian Huskies. Three to be exact, named Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego. I'll then move to England and travel through Scotland frequently. I understand this may never happen (the dog part will though..), but that isn't the note I'm ending this on.

Next time you see me, you can give me a bumper sticker that says: Alaska or bust.

You lose!

I have issues with the feminist movement. It isn't as great as everyone thinks it to be. Don't get me wrong, there are great benefits from it.

1. we can wear pants &jeans (this should actually be 7 reasons)
2. we can vote (go stubborn women that wouldn't take no for an answer!)
3. we can pursue any career (go women that knew we had brains!)

But really, what else did we receive as a benefit? Being able to run around 98% naked in a bikini? Sticking string up our butts because it makes us "pretty"? Having the right to murder because it's our body? Ha! That's full of idiocy! All women have done is dig a hole, and now they're burying themselves. And what absolutely kills me, is that they've pulled me inside! Stupid females.

If I had the choice, I would ditch the jeans and frolick about the streets in bloomers -UNDER a skirt- and a shirtwaist up to my chin. What now?! And all you men, you can just scratch your head and wonder if I really do have legs. If I was running around town in that get up, I probably could make the best pie you've ever tasted and would have the greatest clothes (best seamstress ever-better than your town tailor).

So women, give up! You're never going to climb out on top of men. Thanks to Eve, we're stuck under them for life. "...Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you..." (Genesis 3:16) So, take a straw and suck it up because you'll never win.

Your irony isn't making me laugh

Now, just to warn anyone reading this, I'm going to be very insightful while still acting my age. The age of fifteen where I drool over ridiculously good looking boys in fabulous movies.

Prince Caspian was an absolutely fabulous movie. I'm a major girl with a liking towards attractive men fighting (maybe even mythical creatures). It isn't just the men though, I just like watching fights, battles, duels (swords and arrows preferably), or whatever you want to call it. The sound that a sword makes when coming out of its sheath is the best! But back to attractive men. Ben Barnes (Prince Caspian) is ok, William Moseley (High King Peter) is better, but Skandar Keynes (King Edmund) is absolutely ahmazing! He's one of those beautiful people that causes me to act like a fifteen year old. But here is where the irony comes in. One of my friends told me an interesting tidbit. Skandar is an athiest. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. He's in Narnia and he's an athiest?? Ridiculous. Ok, I know, acting is acting, but that isn't the point.
To clear things up, I'm not planning on marrying him. I just have a weird preference towards my obsessions. I like them to be on the same page as me. It makes the obsession all the better and more real. If you ever find me obsessing over a famous person they normally include these two things (this has nothing to do with anything): They are my age or is no more than 2 years older than me. They share my faith/belief system.

So, I guess my real obsession lies with Edmund. Yes, now that you learned that interesting fact, I will keep going. So, he's an athiest right? Right. But why is he an athiest? (I sound like a stalker, I know. I'm not, I promise.) Something else my friend told me is that he is a descendant of Charles Darwin. Well, how sad is that?! This belief he has, is something that was basically expected of him. He really didn't choose it for himself. It was chosen for him. I immediately felt sympathy for him. I hurt for him. I've never even met this person before! I really can't help it.

I think out of every belief, someone who is an athiest, gets the greatest sympathy from me. To whole heartedly believe that we are just here, that we have no purpose, and that there is nothing after death is very depressing. Honestly, I think I'd be suicidal if I was an athiest. What would be the point of living if we had no purpose? If there was nothing to live for?? There would be no point of me living, so why not just get rid of me? Even if my life was absolutely great, I would still be so empty.

I still drool over his looks because lets face it, they're great. But now, whenever I see his face, I also hurt. The boy doesn't know. He has no answers. It isn't him not knowing; it's him not knowing that there is someone that does know. Where my obsessions lie, also lies a heart for the lost. And that heart is hurting.

Crash and burn...

Ever jump about ten feet at a sudden unidentifiable noise?
Ever grow frustrated because you reacted in this way or a similar fashion only to find out a poster, picture, fill in the blank fell from your wall?

I wouldn't say it's anything to be ashamed about, but ashamed is something that does come to mind. You flip out because you think someone is about to abduct you, only to learn that it was just your poster falling. You then groan in a very frustrated manner because you put your poster up 10 minutes ago! Maybe it isn't even as insignificant as we think it to be. We painstakingly apply a plethora of items to the wall in the perfect order to display our loves, memories, and interests. And what is the result? Waking up to a mess of memories on the floor! I always felt it was my fault it all wouldn't stay. Maybe I hadn't used enough tape is always my first thought. That isn't the truth. It's the tape's fault and always will be. Why can't there be tape that is small, handy, and strong? Is it just not possible? Apparently not. I should just quit on all the tape manufacturers and invest in tacts. I really would, but I do enjoy my room not looking like an apartment building for termites. I feel conspired against.

I'm sure I could go on, but yet again, one of my posters has fallen from the wall. I must go fix it for the 4873746893th time today. And no, I didn't scare myself half to death from the noise this time. Tomorrow, I'm sure I will.