disease

i know that there is this sort of distortion that women or girls see concerning their looks. like when they look in the mirror, they see something completely different than what is actually there. while that isn't something i have, i can't help but feel that i might have a different version of it.

is it possible to have a distortion of your character and personality and worth? in this world, it must be. i guess that can really be called a low self-esteem, but it is more than that. i see myself as mean and detached when my friends think i'm kind and friendly (though the detached part is true). i have problems seeing myself worth anyone's time. i have this thought that if anyone thinks me worth it, they'll talk to me...otherwise i'm not worth it. i get so easily frustrated with myself, always putting me down. i get so sick of myself that i can't believe anyone wants to be with me. i'm always needing attention; when i don't receive it, i feel sad inside. it is as if no one wants me, and i truly believe it. i see myself as selfish, always thinking of only me. considering how many times i say 'i' or 'me' or 'myself', it must be true too. i ask the sky, why all the confusion. why this terrible mind disease.

from what i'm told and what i read in my precious bible, i'm wrong. i should be content with who i am because this is how God has created me. and God doesn't make mistakes. i don't know what is wrong. i read my bible, really read it. I think i believe what it says, but then i mentally destroy myself. i just don't understand. i pray and talk to God. he is so real to me. why isn't he satisfying me? it just doesn't make sense. and when i'm told to rely on him, trust him, believe him, i don't know what to say. i am doing that. there is not doubt that he exists, i know that. but resting in him isn't helping at all. i must be tricking myself, but the worst is that i can't even tell.

a minute of forever.

I remember thinking that I'll always be excited about Christmas. I can't say that that is true. I don't feel that excitement anymore. I'm not sure if it has to do with my mom saying we won't get any presents year after year. Maybe it has to do with not having a dad to share the holiday with. Maybe I just look at this time as a time to not worry about school, grades, my future, etc. The more I think about it, none of those things are truly why I'm not as excited anymore.

It is the worst when you know something is happening to you, but you can't seem to stop it--Or you just don't want to. I've completely lost perspective. I know I have. Yet, I haven't done anything about it. I believe the real reason why I'm not excited about Christmas is because I haven't really focused on the incredible baby that came to change everyone's life--to save everyone's life. I say I'm extremely grateful for all God has done for me and all he has given me. My actions don't give off the same message. I want to change that, indefinitely.

It is time I started appreciating and living in things that are forever and not just a moment on earth. It is time that I not be sad about all that has happened to me, that I let nothing but myself dictate the way I act. Honestly, it's time I stopped making things seem so awful so someone feels bad for me. It isn't awful. Maybe momentary things are awful, but what I have already is the greatest thing that anyone could ever have. And the only reason I can have it, is because of a little baby that lived 2,000 years ago. I should still be excited about Christmas, but for different reasons, better reasons.

new.

it's time i started to not care about my feelings. instead, i be kind and fun. as opposed to lonely and detached.

i don't know how i have any friends.
i don't know why anyone wants to be with me
i don't know where my best friend came from
or why she's still here. that's amazing.
i am thankful, but...
why is everyone still here? no one ever stays with me.
everyone always leaves. always dissappoints. i'm never enough
for them to stay. for them to love. it's ok if anyone wants to leave.
it's what i'm used to. it won't hurt if you're gone.
just go.

i want to fly too.

all you need is faith and a little fairydust.
and a life that doesnt include reality.

bland

when will i learn how to look up into someone's eyes

and smile? how can i speak

a few words to someone i barely know?

when will the compassion i have reach

others? how will they know
i want to listen to all that happened

within them?

if i shrink back, invisible,

out of sight.

if i am

the wallpaper.

cliche number one

its me against the world today

its part of your world

i have become recently intrigued by dubai. it seems like a tiny utopian society. i decided to search it and the official portal of dubai government website has this banner at the top of its page. it says: "TOGETHER to ease your life." that sounds like health insurance to me. it all seems a bit wonky. i mean, they are creating 300 man made islands all to form the map of the world, off the coast. it is all so crazy, yet so interesting.

and that hotel..the burj al arab. ridiculously dreamy. i'm just a little smitten with the nautical architecture--the way all the parallel lines run alongside each other. seeing as it is in the shape of a sailboat sail and on the ocean, days could be spent pretending to be on an epic adventure across the sea. as opulent and outrageously expensive as it is, i still find myself drawn to it. there seems to be this enchanting, futuristic appeal.

anywhere you can play tennis extended high above crystal blue waters has potential to be a brilliant place, i guess--despite its bizarre and completely overdone aspects. it definitely looks wonderful for escape.

wild

you just never know

who you're going to meet

what they're going to say

how you're going to like them

what they're going to do

how they'll change your life

you just never know

i kind of want to be small again and curl up in my mother's lap.

not real

truth. truth. truth.
there seems to be this undercurrent theme in the way mankind speaks and acts. it's interesting to me how few people notice this or even take a little time to observe it. to me, i just see this want in people, for something to believe in, that man can confirm as true. it's obvious, really. people are always looking around, find groups, organizations, movements, that have a substantial amount of following. if there are followers, the foundation in that following has to have some substantial truth. right? that's what people hope, i think.
or maybe they just want affirmation that they don't believe in a lie. either way...
truth. truth. truth.

flying ace

It's Saturday. Should be the time that I try to make a dent in the homework I have. I'm not doing that. It is getting harder and harder to do the work I need to do for school. I just want to go out, find something new, and explore. Time to meet people that can have whatever misconceptions they want about me, and I wouldn't care. Why? I've never met them before, so why not? Sounds good. I guess I don't care what misconceptions people I know have of me, but it complicates relationships too easily to not care completely.

Out the window there are fluffy, brilliant clouds snailing across the sky. They move so slowly, the clouds, with not a care in the world. Not that they could have a care, since they are clouds, but that isn't the point. In graceful movement that is as slow as molasses, the clouds look down upon everything there is to see--ever. I'm just a little jealous.

It finally feels like fall here. You know, that time where melancholy encroaches upon every tree that blows in the wind and every leaf that falls to the ground, where it's not supposed to be. I'm convinced my senses heighten at this time of the year. I smell everything in the air as a breeze blows by me. My fingers and toes start to grow colder with each passing day. It is slightly debilitating, but I secretly love it. Colors seem to be more saturated and richer than any other time of the year and there's that indescribable feeling I get when I see birds take off, flying away for winter, together.

It's also the time where all of nature is getting ready for death, literally or symbolically, and waiting for the new life that's going to come. Maybe that is why everything seems so melancholy.

ambitious princess

I have become easily frustrated with myself, lately. It seems as if I can never accomplish what I want to accomplish. But I believe I'm beating down on myself for no reason. I'm just taking on way too much. I can accomplish all of these things, but not at once. I have become so overbearing on Chloe that I get mad at Chloe because Chloe can't do anything. So, I tell myself now, "That's not necessary, Chloe." It feels better to be thinking this. I just have to take things one at a time, or even two at a time. Because five hundred at a time doesn't exactly work.

I guess I was just a little ambitious princess. And talking to myself in third person did help.

I resorted back to pen and paper for a little while. This morning I took out my diary and wrote to my heart's content for an hour. It was absolutely and completely pure bliss. Then I spent the next forty-five minutes after that writing letters to be sent off by postage stamp. Sometimes I feel as if the computer should never have been invented. By actually taking pen to paper, so much more emotion can be brought out. It could be in the appearance of the penmanship or maybe the tear stains on the paper.
So this cyber journal has been set aside for a little while.

chipmunk cheeks

Opinions are something silly. We spend hours and forever trying to formulate our own opinions, learning of other peoples' opinions, hoping no one ever has a bad opinion about you.
I had to sit all by myself with chubby cheeks to realize that opinions don't matter as much as we think they do. That ending thought leaves me a little lonely, but I feel free. Is that a bad thing?

technology is a dead bird

"we saw the milky way at night"
http://marsargo.bandcamp.com/
take a listen

i wish to be peter pan.

goodness, i'm so small.
i like it, honestly. it seems i'm alone in the way i think sometimes. there's a constant need for explanation in clarifying. but in my stature, i feel as if i can easily fade away into the woodwork and say that i am the wallpaper. i rest besides my mind, conversing with my being, fully understanding everything. no explanation is necessary.
on my own and alone. it's good sometimes.
sometimes.

self evaluation from a second party

"Chloe, you're doing it again."

"Doing what again?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I know, I know. It's so hard not to give in, you know. To not let mindless teasing bury deep, not let someone else's problems become yours, not let the college board eat your brain and very self away, not let disasterous moments eat away life."

"Take a stand. Don't let it make you into something you're not. I know you don't want to let it bring you down, but you are letting it."

"I know..."

"Stop it."

"I'm trying; it's too hard."

"No. It isn't. Stop it."

"I'll keep trying. I promise."

"I won't stop bothering you about this. I promise."

"I've had just about enough of cloaked diamonds in the rough."

where we lost it

in the pages of each day
in the stages of each year
we lost it
by friends we lost
by friends we gained
we lost it
i watch people walk by
watch them exchange friendly hello's
observe indifferent glances
high upon my post
i see it all
children running after their mothers
business men chatting on their phones
cars rushing by
horns blaring on
yet i still can't see where we lost it
maybe i don't want to see where we lost it
i just want to find that merriment again
relive simple joys
laughter forever ringing in my ears
it seems like its gone
gone forever
i don't believe it
i can't believe it
days of simple innocence, come back to me.

what's inbetween...

the special two

Why aren't you and I there for each other right now?
Why are we feeling distant?
Why are we both alone?
Why aren't we together to make the loneliness disappear?

some things stay with me

a lot has been going on in me since the last time my words made the page.

but you know what...

I don't want to tell you anything.

some things stay with me.

i read the water

I read the water

That mirrored reflection

Distorting and perfecting

I seem to forget that I, alone, can change what I see.

I think it was the clichè

Stark white. A clean slate. Undisturbed paper. It's so beautiful. Having the time to grab a pencil and draw couldn't fill my heart with anymore happiness. I see it as the one time that I can come forward wholly and completely as me. For the most part, I act without any pretenses around people; however, in front of a blank piece of paper I can translate the mind to something tangible. Maybe I can't grasp any understanding of what I drew, but I know that I translated something raw. Something me.
I can't make sense of what I just typed out, but it works for me.

Why is it that what's important to me has to be put on the backburner? Why is it that I can't work to become better at what's important to me? Instead, I must push--strain--myself to accomplish what everyone else wants, what the world deems as important. And why is it that I seem to fail at everything that is so important to everyone else, letting them down; I feel something akin to dirt and one more insecurity surfaces.
not enough as a daughter
not enough as a student
not enough as a friend
not enough as a sister
not enough as person
Always, "Why" is being thrown at me. Why didn't you listen to me. Why didn't you talk to me. Why are you acting that way. Why are you taking this class. Why did you get that grade. Why. Why. Why. ...Now I ask the "why" this time. Why can't I be human; why can't I be me?

the reflection stares back
warped to an underwater image.
it used to be clear,
the picture in front of me,
but now blurred with:
uncertainty, insufficiency, insignificance.
the smile forgotten with the passion with which it was fueled.
the blank stare overtaken with which overtook the passion
numb.

feeling

http://www.purevolume.com/heiswe

lay awake at night
cry, you know it's not alright
to feel like you're falling into nothing
you can learn to fly.
just call his name, just call his name.


where do we go?
call out his name.
lift up our hands,
completely ashamed.
give it all up,
dropping our pride
rip us apart,
change us on the inside.


(we cry hard to you, we fall on our knees)
now changes now.

no, no, no

What's thrown at me, I can't do anything about. I might as well suck it up and forge through it, smile and bear it. That's the only way to live life, isn't it? It has to be bittersweet, or it's not life at all.

As I sit here, listening to the Beach Boys perpetually spin around on the record player, a bout of melancholy consumes me. I've grown up watching my mother sacrifice for my sister, for my brother, for me. I see it as something she's happy to do and wouldn't do anything else, but it's tinged with a sort of sadness I never quite understood.

I understand now. I've grown up to be someone like my mother, always sacrificing. Except now, I'm sacrificing for my mother. I'm happy to do it for her, really, I am happy. But that melancholy feeling...

I've grown myself up too fast, I think. Too fast.

the warmth is still spreading

I went down to Skid row again, not this past Sunday, but the last.
It was a completely different experience than the first, but still just as gratifying. As I think about it, even more so than the first. My friend Amy came down this time and we set off together with a boy named Josh for our safety. Neither of us knew Josh, but it seemed as though we've met before by doing this trip together. Walking up to the weathered and worn faces of each person, sharing food and a friendly "Hello, how are you?" filled the hours, among other things.
I received this award worthy word picture of my name from a man who goes by "The Artist". As we stood there at 12:00 in the morning, as he sketched Amy's profile, he handed off pieces of advice because he cared.

"Never shake hands. The way to do it is a fist bump. That's shaking hands
down here."
"Hugs? No way! You want to catch some kind of disease? Fleas? Lice?"
"When you get home, strip off those clothes and wash 'em right
away...bleach 'em!"
"It's dangerous down here, if you get in something, I'm only a call away. I
gave your man my number. I'm just a breath away, always. I care."

I 'learned' at the beginning of the night from a crazy, lost man, I'm young and I don't know much. It's true. I haven't lived much. I haven't experienced much. Upon meeting an amazing man named Philippe, I got something I never thought I'd receive down there. For a good one and a half hours I sat and I listened to what Philippe had to say:

"Don't skip out on life now. Yeah, it seems like
it's gonna last a long time, but listen to me. It's short. It really
is."
"If you come back to me, and I see you've given up,
I won't stand for it. You see where I am right now? I praise God for it everday.
He's been with me through it all. But I don't want to see you here with
me."
"Ya'll are young. If I could go back, I'd be doing
what you're doing right now. It means so much that you young ones actually care
for this world. That's what this world needs. You really are the future of this
world."

Yikes, that was something I'll take away forever. I hope I see this man in heaven. He was something special. I wasn't expecting to be encouraged when I went down there, but to encourage in some way. I don't go down with expectations anymore. I go down with anticipation and excitement to see what's going to happen.
The warmth isn't just spreading anymore; it's been reciprocated.

day 3, the end

I have three hours left of this fast. I never expected to learn so much from just not eating. This is something I'll be looking back on and will be happy that I did it.
I'm extremely hungry right now. I have a plan on what I'm going to eat as soon as I can. It's really exciting for me, actually. But at the same time, I can't help but think that the people that have to live like this everyday, they can't plan on what they're eating later. Instead they're wondering when the next time will be when they eat. That's sad. I can't do anything directly about it now, but I'll always be conscious about it. Like I said before, I don't want to waste food...
I hope to see the pain in others and not discount it, but try to be empathatic in some way. Once again, I'm so thankful that I did this.
That's all I have to say for now. This is me signing off from my fast.

day 2

Letting the blood rush to my head, I lie upside down tracing the ribs along my stomach. Each one, my fingers grazed; with each one, I saw another face. One human, one person, one someone, has to live like this everyday, without the food filling their stomach. Forever seeing the bones protrude from the skin, forever wondering when the food will come.
From the constant reminder of hunger, I'm learning how precious food really is. I would have never known how much food keeps you going through the day. I would have never known the empty feeling craving for a tiny bit of sustenance.
I walked through the kitchen after my brother ate dinner and I casually cast my eyes upon the leftovers. When it registered what was left on the plate, I had an emotional response. It wasn't disgusting anymore. Instead I saw the food as edible and completely wasted. Before I knew it, my mom was dumping it down the trash. That is what disgusted me.
I'm no longer taking food for granted. If I don't want to finish it, I'm saving it. I can't hop on a plane and feed everyone right now, but I can at least do this.

day 1

I don't know if it is possible to realize what a distraction hunger can be unless it has been truly experienced. I don't know if it is possible to understand the way the clutches of an empty stomach can consume every bit of life unless the reality has been upon you.

I've never fasted before. I've never felt the necessity to do it.

The other day I read of some choosing to going on a three day fast for Darfur. At first, I thought that the idea was cool. I thought that the people doing this were pretty cool too. Yet, as I read the blogs of each day of the fast, I started to really feel. There is a girl somewhere else with eyes, a mouth, a brain, a mother, maybe a sister just like I have; however, when I have a satisfied stomach, this girl's stomach is crying for just a little nutrients.

This is why I'm doing this: I want to feel something near the same pains as this girl, as this girl's baby brother, even if it is on a small scale.

I've barely made it through my first day and already I'm having difficulties. The distraction that hunger leaves is a hard one to escape. It isn't bad now, but I believe that soon it'll start to consume me. It'll eat away my energy, my focus, my motivation; the thoughts gnawing apart any comfort I lived in. I hope to finish this with more than the knowledge that this is real for people everyday.

It's only in taking on the problem that one can, without a question, understand.

we love art

ART FEEDS ________.

give generously, love naively, be foolishly compassionate.

http://www.myspace.com/artfeeds

It seems like I'm living life by looking through a tilt-shift lense. I'm on the outside, looking out towards the smallness of life.

There is so much happening around me right now.
I'm not sure I really know what's happening.

I'm in this small, enclosed box.
I don't know how to get out.
I have no control over anything. I see it all happening. I can't do anything about it.
It all effects me.

This can't be life.

matchless

Hume Lake. It holds such a dear place in my heart. There isn't anything better than being surrounded by His beautiful creation and singing praises to Him morning and night. He loves me so much. He loves me more than I can imagine. To be loved like that is almost unbearable, but it keeps me living. It literally keeps me breathing my next breath and the next one after that.
But as I stood there one evening singing my love out towards my God, I grew frustrated. Not long after that I was mad. As a thousand voices were making their way up to the sky, mine abruptly stopped.
It just wasn't fair. I wanted to love Him as much as He loved me. But I can't.
How sick is that? I was having a pouting party when I should be telling Him that I'll love you as much as I can even if it isn't as much as you can. Either way, that was a stupid moment.
But later that night as I was going to bed, I realized something. Yeah, we can't love God as much as He loves us, but there is something we can do. His love is so great and abounding, and as children of God we are given the ability to love others His great love. I'm supposed to take the love God has given me and love others with it. <---that right there is how I show my love to God. That is what He has for me to do because He doesn't want Him to get all of the love I can give. He wants the very special people he created to be receptors of His love.

gypsy, take the one thing i'm abounding in

I enjoy escapism. Those moments where I don't feel anything from reality. Instead I'm floating gently in my own world of merriment and wonder.
But in the past week there came a moment where a heavy collision of reality and imagination happened. I'm not quite sure what to make of it yet.
I'm shocked. I'm shocked and the feeling radiates to my core. It's hard to believe that I never realized that surprises never stop coming--whether good or bad.
You hurt me a lot. And you know why it hurt even more? Because you said you wouldn't do anything to hurt me so much again. You asked why I can't get over it. What is wrong with you? Well, it's because this is reality.
To quote Stars, "I'm not sorry it's over. I'm not sorry there's nothing to say." It's early, but I have gotten good out of this already. My sketchbook is over flowing with newly started drawings. I have idea upon idea slowly stacking up like wooden building blocks, anticipating the moment I acquire canvases. My involvement in learning the art of photography...
I know what I like to do now. I've found a part of me that I didn't have before. What about it? I didn't need a counterpart of me to do it. I needed to lose the counterpart to do it.
Now, what would you say to me if you knew this to be the truth? If you saw what my hand and pencil created, what my hand and brush created, should you say anymore? If you knew that within each stroke and mark was a painful, salty tear brought upon by a broken, bleeding heart--could you even speak?

faded memories

My life in another world is officially over. The dark, melancholy brick buildings of London are distant. The thick, cigarette-infused air of Paris no longer fills my nose. The sticky feel of Venice humidity no longer lingers on my skin.
Over forever? That isn't possible. There are too many people to meet. There are too many stories to hear. That's all there is to it.

Nothing is Original

I had a thought the other day that what I was drawing was so completely unoriginal. But then, that same day, I stumbled upon this quote. It pretty much saved my life--kind of.

I don't

I had this crazy panic attack about marriage the other day.
I don't know where in the world it came from.
I mean...I'm freaking 16 years old.
But nonetheless, I had it.
I think I'm over it.
I hope I am.

treasure hunt

It was one of those lazy summer days, today. That normally means no structure, a restless me, and crazy ideas.
Idea of the day: treasure hunt! Not the normal kind, though. I went gallavanting around my house looking for something to use my time with and I found gold.


an '83 Minolta X-700
a wonderful polaroid camera
plus some film for it

i'm so excited!

read this? haha!

Hey, all you followers of my ever so crazy, ADD mind! I hope all your lives are as great as a strawberry. Ok, now that my completely failed attempt at an introduction is done...

I walked to and from my house five days in a row the past five days. It was something completely new to my human body of this age! Well, that's actually a lie. I walk all the time. I love walking. Whether the words coming directly from my mind to my fingers are a lie or not, you should still go on a walk. It's 100% recommended from me. There is something about the smell of air that has to whole sea to move around in. ..Wait, that made no sense. You can't have air in water. That sentence right there was a failed attempt at being creative. I'm sorry.

Anyways, this whole walking bit is making me think of cars. I'm learning how to drive right now. It's so completely scary. I don't know if people actually realize the evil power they have when they have control of a car. It's true, I hope you know. I mean I could easily become a terrorist...not that I would become one. BUT, it is possible. Scary, huh? I need some help with this. I try to get the courage to go out and drive, but once I'm there and my mother is there...the courage is gone. My mom is a scary person to drive with. She makes all of these noises like I'm going to kill someone or her or myself or just about the whole world. That doesn't make for fun days and times. I need to start doing this thing, though. If I could drive, I probably wouldn't be sitting on the computer writing to the two people that read this. Yes, my life is so exciting..

Right now, I'm thinking that this would be more interesting if you could actually see my face. Maybe.. Oh, who am I kidding? I do not have an interesting life. I'm ending my attempt at being [pretend] famous right now. I'm going to draw.

I was thinking the other day. And what I thought was what if I was some online sensation like those random youtube people? I think it's actually quite comical how these random, ordinary people become "famous". Thus, I decided for my next piece of writing genius, I will be famous.

"Imagination was given to man to compensate him for what he is not, and a sense of humor was provided to console him for what he is."

-Oscar Wilde

i love them

I haven't written here for a week.

This cutie little girl told me that I'm really pretty, today. She made me really happy. Her friend gave me her bracelet. It's so pink and girly with a pink butterfly in the middle. They are so adorable.

This is when I'm reminded of how much I love little children and all they have yet to live. It is also when I know that an Indian orphanage is where I want to be.

fabricated, I think not

I'm super joyful right now. It has nothing to do with the fact that it's summer. It has nothing to do with the fact that I talked about poo, and I laughed until I cried. It has nothing to do with the awesome sunglasses I bought the other day.
It's because of God. He has taken so much from me, and given me something so much better. If I didn't go through my parents divorce, I'm convinced that I would have never gone to skid row. I know I wouldn't want to help people like I do now. To love people like I do now. I would not have found the friendships I have found. I would not look at life the way I do now.
He is so great.
He's beautiful.
I love him so much.
I wish I could love him more than humanly possible.

the bug aftermath.

I have a person who is my twin.
We can talk and talk, all day long.
Yes, yes...she is my kin,
and together, forever, we belong.

Laughter consumes us
as we talk about poo.
It's quite funny to discuss
those things that concern the loo.

You, my child want a cowboy,
and I want so much to be in India.
Deep down in the south, you enjoy
Southern drawls and your couches from Ikea.

For leisure time you creep creep
and listen to Go Country 105.1
Your stalker ways keep sleep
away from all of the ones who are young.

Yet I love you with all my heart.
I hope we are never to be apart.
This friendship we did start,
It's like a beautiful work of art.

the bug

This girl, her name is Bex.
To me, she is like a sister.
She likes to act like a T-rex,
and search far and long for the mister.

This girl, I love her to death,
Even if she runs to her doom,
understands the tongue of Macbeth,
and has no baby in her womb.

Dr. Horrible is her thing,
always watching him and his freezeray.
Laughter she will bring
to me each and everyday.

Going down to skid row,
in the middle of the night,
her love she does show.
For God, she shines bright.

What a beautiful flower you are,
Being who God created you to be.
I love you and your peanut butter jar.
Oh, and thank you for loving me.

leedle, leedle

I don't know why, but I got a twitter account. What am I doing? I have no idea, but I'm going to have fun with it.

I'm a goof.

I like listening to some delicious tunes,
Dancing in my jammies.
Sometimes I'm running like a silly goon,
screaming like a banshee.
Gut wrenching belly laughter is my friend,
with my obliques crying in pain.
Seeing smiles places me in a state of zen,
Away from what contains the mundane.
If I wasn't me,
I'd sure love to see
Everything that I'll be.

according to what's below

People think they are indestructible. I don't even understand how.
Our bones break
we need blood transfusions
cancer infests our bodies
infections eat away at us
our livers fail
Can you really think that just because of one moment of glory and power, you are officially immortal? Right...
No matter what you think, you're not up there with God. If you think you are, he'll put you in your place. You're weak and you are so easily tempted. And God knows how to humble a person. He will show you who you really are, and then you'll run. From all you've lied to, even yourself.
Know you're below God, but know that you're also worth loving. You're also worth enough to love someone else.

That's what I get from this bunch of verses. Nahum is one of my favorite books in the Bible. It shows God's vengeance and discernment. But it also shows his love and mercy towards those he's created.

That's my thought for the day. So long.

"Woe to the city of blood, full of lies, full of plunder, never without victims! The crack of whips, the clatter of wheels, galloping horses and jolting chariots! Charging calvary, flashing swords and glittering spears! Many casualties, piles of dead, bodies without number, people stumbling over the corpses--all because of the wanton lust of a harlot, alluring, the mistress of sorceries, who enslaved nations by her prostitution and peoples by her witchcraft.
"'I am against you,' declares the Lord Almighty. 'I will show the nations your nakedness and the kingdoms your shame. I will pelt you with filth, I will treat you with contempt and make you a spectacle...'
"Nothing can heal your wound; your injury is fatal. Everyone who hears the news about you claps his hands at your fall, for who has not felt your endless cruelty?"
--Nahum 3:1-6, 19

I read this last night, I got to thinking about the fact that humans are not immortal. I'm just letting it all sink in before I write.

understand?

It's something that lies beyond what you can understand.

Out of the norm--that's what it is to the unknowing mind.

But have you ever tried to think outside of the obsession? Maybe the obsession is more than just that. It's a passion, pure and simple.

And guess what? This passion has a meaning. Just because it isn't a passion to get a tight car, or receive the best grades, or be pro at a certain sport doesn't mean it should be discounted. It has meaning whether or not it is understood.

So what, if it isn't understood now. In time, I'll look at you, and you will
understand. You will understand and wonder why it wasn't so clear before.

Instilled within me is a love for children and a love for India. With the passion God has given me, I can do his work. I can do it; I can love it too.

Is it so weird now?

"...but a warm heart exists."

I witnessed care last night.
I witnessed something I knew always existed.
I witnessed true love for God and his beautiful creation.
I became apart of it too, and I've never been apart of something so beautiful.
It was truly incredible and it was touched by God. He was everywhere.

When everyone else was sleeping peacefully in the wee hours of the morning, my heart filled with joy and love and hurt and whatever else on the streets of downtown LA. I can't even describe the way I felt. This place--Skid Row--it is the resting place of gorgeous people. I don't know what else to say.

placement

"take
me
above
your light.
carry
me
through
the
night.
hold
me
secure
in
flight.
sing
me
to
sleep
tonight."

"i felt the stars explode around me."

grey skies

i feel peace settle within me whenever i listen to this song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bA_oPIU83GY

just do it please.

apprehensive actions

The nervous hand, shaking imperceptibly.

The flickering gaze. It never lies in one place.

Why does a reserved and sheepish self bubble to the surface?

You're comfortable, right? But there is always someone that'll reach in
there--down to the place no one should go.

But they do and it immerses you into a panic mode. What to do? Your resolve
is tumbling. What is there to do? No one can come in.

high in the air.

My bible study girls are my lifeblood for a lack of better words.

They laugh with me. They make me laugh. I can come to them, and I feel uplifted, up into the clouds.

Around the beautifully gleaming countenances, I feel a burst of sunshine shooting through my veins.

And as we read something of pure holiness together, our Father's words come alive. Alive in a manner that comes only when such passion and enthusiasm exubes from those studying a truly living word.

My Jesus, thank you for this.

For the wonder.

For the laughter.

For the blunt and biting words that eat at my heart whenever I gaze upon your written words.

a child's face can purely show me and my emotions.
it is unscathed from the art of deception or facade.

I need it? No way.

You need it.

some days this blog feels like my own personal postsecret

ear to ear

i feel like this right now.

sidenote

I know that I kind of hate being at home.
I know that I have way too much work.
I know that I'm dreading my finals.
I know that some of my dreams will never live.
I know that I won't ever have everything I want.
I know that I won't know everything I want to know.

But I know that the sun will keep shining.
I know that I still have so much joy.
I know that I still love my life.

What is it that I love in knowing secrets?

Beauty in my Whirlwind

I have so many dreams. I have so many, that sometimes I get lost in them.

I won't resurface for hours or even days. They consume my every cell as I enjoy the vivid pictures that swirl around in my head.

I dream of where I will end up for college. I dream of my own house to decorate and design the way I want. I dream of the friends and relationships I'll develop. I dream of the places I'll go, like India or Israel. I dream of my future career, whether it be a makeup artist or an interior designer. I dream of my own family to raise and love. I dream of what God has set before me to do for him and his kingdom. I dream.

As much as I love these dreams, I want reality to become of them. There is so much out there. I'm not going to let it pass me.

"I Promise.."

It's getting better. It's getting better. Day by day, it is getting better.
Somedays, it dips real low, but other days, it rockets to the sky.
Once again, it isn't really effecting me. It's just me living.
I'm right with the one who gave me that life to live.

Each time when I wonder and I stray,
life isn't never as it should be.
It just sucks.

Where I am now, I think, why did I even want to go the other way.
It's so much better here. It's getting so much better here.
Sadness still irritates the wound, but His love is becoming a balm.
The balm--it was always there to be used.

That's a promise.
It's one I can count on,
Whether or not I can eloquently write it out,
It's understood.

I don't want to be here anymore.

	Jon Foreman - The Cure For Pain
	Found at skreemr.com

Silence lingers along every wall, through every door and crack. In a corner, the couch rests under a lifeless life in a puddle of thriving, cold-hard reality.
Sad eyes watch in the shadows as a tear slides down the wrinkles and in the hollows of the skin.
It lands with a deafening plop.
Breathing is imperceptible. Focusing in on the melancholy sight, the eyes watch carefully for the rise and fall of the chest. It's there and a sigh of relief breaks the silence.
It's only a moment, though. And now the eyes are downcast, searching the floor as if the antidote for pain will appear.

the warm water took me by surprise

I've got what truly matters.
I'm so lucky.
It's not even fair.

One Way Ticket Please

It's a place where owls traipse around getting ice cream. It's a place where the Great Lakes taste like cold lemonade. It's a place where you can bleed the evening sky and exhale all the stress. It's beautiful.
I love Owl City.
Adam Young knows my mind, my whimsical dreams.
He writes something close to sugar and strawberries. And sings sunshine.

	Owl City - On The Wing
	Found at skreemr.com

interruption

I have lights shining in my face, and I dislike it.
And in front of me, there are papers strewn about--
ones that should be sitting in a recycle bin waiting for a new life.
A better, more appreciated life.
Instead a myriad of "useful" words wait for my eyes to rest upon them,
eat them up.
No thank you.

My eyes would rather be closed,
leaving room for magnificent dreams.
Butting out people's perfect outside facade, letting problems dissolve--
if only for a little while.
A place where I could climb giraffe necks instead of ladders,
make a friendship bracelet out of a rainbow,
the daisies and poppies and violets weave into beautiful blankets on their own,
swim through the stars and string them together, one by one--this is where I really am.


and its right now that i have the urge to give reality the finger.

Spit In My Face

"When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead he entrusted himself to him who judges justly."
1st Peter 2:23


I don't know how he did it.

Just A Ghost Of What I Was

We sit there smiling at each other.
Yours is true, mine is forced.
I'm hiding so much from you.
We live on two sides of the tracks now.
I have one thing to say: I'm sorry.

We sit there smiling at each other.
Your eyes shine, mine are clouded.
There was that time--we always laughed,
And the sun shined brightly on our faces.
We don't see face to face anymore.

We sit there smiling at each other.
You're relaxed; I'm tense.
I can't be me around you anymore.
Walls build up around me. I feel the judgment, again.
I'm not what I was before.

We sit there smiling at each other.
You give me all; I'm not really there.
So excitedly relaying the day,
I'm not listening like I should.
Insignificant. That's what it is to me now.

I wish we could still tell each other everything.
I wish we could still laugh honestly, together.
I wish we weren't so different anymore.
I wish things didn't happen like this.
I wish sorry could make it better.
It can't.

Not As Unconditional as You Hoped It To Be

"The problem with Christian community was that we had ethics, we had rules and laws and principles to judge each other against. There was love in Christian community, but it was conditional love. Sure, we called it unconditional, but it wasn't. There were bad people in the world and good people in the world. We were raised to believe this. If people were bad, we treated them as though they were either evil or charity: If they were bad and rich, they were evil. If they were band and poor, they were charity. Christianity was always right; we were always looking down on everybody else. And I hated this. I hated it with a passion. Everything in my soul told me it was wrong. It felt, to me, as wrong as sin. I wanted to love everybody. I wanted everything to be cool. I realize this sounds like tolerance, and to many in the church the world tolerance is profanity, but that is precisely what I wanted. I wanted tolerance. I wanted everybody to leave everybody else alone, regardless of their religious beliefs, regardless of their political affiliation. I wanted people to like each other. Hatred seemed, to me, the product of ignorance. I was tired of biblical ethic being used as a tool with which to judge people rather than heal them. I was tired of Christian leaders using biblical principles to protect their power, to draw a line in the sand separating the good army from the bad one...
"The problem with Christian culture is we think of love as a commodity. We use it like money...The church used love like money. With love, we withheld affirmation from the people who did not agree with us, but we lavishly financed the ones who did."

--Blue Like Jazz, Donald Miller

sixty eight

And one day the world’s gonna be alright,
And there will be no pain
Shut the ICU down tonight'
Cause everyone is safe
And I will overlook this operation by your side'
Cause we’re too young, we’re still kids
We’re too young, we’re still kids
I see your hearts get bigger when you lose your friends
And everyone’s around you saying that it’s not the end,
It's not the end
But you cried so hard,
And I watched you grow so strong
And I made you laugh in my arms
And your tear-stained shirt, you felt the snowflakes on your back
And you stood so proud
You had me wishing, wanting, begging for some words from you
And you smiled to the crowd,
It’s enough for now
’Cause we’re too young, we’re still kids
We’re too young, we’re still kids
Take a break from the mask,
You’ve done enough today I saw you smiling like it’s all ok,
And it will be soon
This is a song for the boys and the girls I never met
And all my friends that I have had and I have kept
So get me down, down for the count
’Cause we are all the same, we’re all the same...

-The Ready Set

I'm in a good mood. I just thought the whole world should know.
Great googali-moogali! It feels wonderful.
I feel like dancing and jumping.
I think I just might.

Dirty Cleansing

Stepped on a rose plant today. It hurt, pierced my skin. I bled for all the children I truly care about. It felt good...almost good. I talked to him for the first time today. It hurt, more than I thought it would. I bled all of hurt and pain I'd been feeling since he left. It felt good...wholly good.

Passing Over Me

I love having Jewish roots in me. It adds something to me. I'm more than just a "christian white girl" from America. I've experienced a few things that other averages haven't experienced. But now that I understand with much more clarity, the symbolism of it all, we just kind of stop.

Ok, we didn't just stop abruptly. It was more of an off and on-barely there-thing, but I don't care about that. I want to start it again. I want to celebrate Passover and have a seder meal; I want to let Hanukkah mean something to me. History is infused within these two holidays. It's amazing!

Yeah, Christmas has a meaning to me, and so does Easter, but the commercialization of it all ruins it. I don't know, I guess I just want more meaning. And to not leave the Jewish part of me untouched. Seems kind of silly to me.

Pretenseless

I am fallible. I am fallible. I am fallible.
Sometimes, you just can't be so magnanimous. Thank God, for that. Then I'd rely solely on myself. So many other people would rely solely because I could do it and they couldn't do it. What a nightmare. I don't want people to depend on me all the time.
Today, I screamed. I yelled. I cried and let my makeup run. Sure, it was in solitude, but it feels so good to get it out sometimes. And now, I sit in the comfort of being human.

When the Brittle Brown Disappears

When I see a majestic flower smile in the sun again, that's when I turn my cheek towards the same source to be dressed in the glittering splendor of his rays.

Did You Forget the Foundation?

This is how I define Christianity: Live the life Jesus lived. Love the unloved, care for the forgotten.

Christianity, religion, everything: It's all so screwed up. Going back to the Jesus's life, he didn't focus on organized religion. He stood up for the truth, loved, and not much else.Yet, with those few actions, his life was so beautiful and magnificent. The rituals, rules, judgement, all ruin what being a Christian is all about.

The rules are there because we're human and need them, but the actual concept has nothing to do with the rules. It's becoming a follower of Christ. And truly, if we're not following Christ, then why claim to be a Christian? Personally, I don't see any point.

Zen You Smiled

This Zen master goes up to a hot dog stand and says, "Make me one with everything." (HA!) So the hot dog vendor gives him his hot dog, takes his money and puts it into a box. After a moment, the Zen master says, "Where's my change?" but the hot dog vendor just stares at him and says, "Change must come from within." (Once again, Ha!!)

Hope you've been enlightened for the day.

Like A Corrective Lense

Why didn't anyone ever tell me that accepting the pain makes life so much better? As much as it hurts that my daddy left, as much as it hurts to see my momma in so much pain, I feel that much hope.

I'm not sure if it's spring coming out to show her beautiful face again, or if it's for the mere reason that my legs met up the with shining sun after so long.

Either way, it happened, and I feel as light as air. It's like the pain and bad is one type of sticker to stick on me and the excitement and happiness is the other type. Before, I had one saying: "Divorce: bad" stuck on me. Or another saying "Day with Friends: good" right there on my arm. Whatever seemed to have happened to me, it all defined me and who people saw me as.

But now, even though the bad may come at me, or the good may come at me, they just don't stick. There is no way to define my life now, except calling it mine. It's just one beautiful progression of living.

TOMS

I bought these shoes the other day. I'd seen them before, but I didn't really check them out until my friend had recommended them to me.

I got a pair because I couldn't help myself. They are the most comfortable shoes I've ever had and, what's more, for every pair you buy, TOMS will donate a pair to a child in need. That is so awesome!

These shoes are so cute and there is a crazy variety of colors and patterns too. The ones in the picture are the pair I ordered and I just love them. Get some. It's so worth it.

Your negativity, it hurts me, kills me. It's hard to keep living with it breathing down my neck. Momma, it's ok. It's all behind us.

Left in the Dust

The physicality of D.C. is left behind. No longer do I find myself surrounded by
tall brick buildings or rambunctious college kids. No longer do I feel the metro
engendered wind in my face or my sissy's presence near me. It is no more.

A mere 48 hours can change me. It did change me. Not in the sense that you wouldn't recognize me, but my mind. My way of thinking has evolved. My opinion has developed into something different or something more than what it was before. But that is how it is supposed to be, don't you think? Listening and watching as opposed to closing off and judging? I find my opinion being molded by every new person that I meet. I hear stories of their past (or near present), learn about their family, watch the way they act. We are all so different, yet exactly the same. Meeting a new person is vital. It is the new experience with that person, however personally involved, that shapes the very way you think and see.

For me, there was something about seeing these college kids live the life they have right now, stepping into the life they have right now. Not just regular college, but they work 9 to 5 jobs in government buildings across the expanse of D.C. and take night classes until ten at night only to come back to a desk with homework to be done. Continually for five days, if not more, they work their butts off. Yes, there is some complaining and whining. How could there not be? But it doesn't end there. They find it in them to keep going, keep living. Whether it be stupid, crazy, or adventurous, they live until there is nothing left to live. It doesn't matter what way they're living, just that they are.

I learned something more. Sissy, everything about you means so much to me.

Will I Ever Know How Much?

You say you love me.

I know you love me.

But can you show me how much?

Will I ever know how much?

Would you actually swim the ocean for me?

Cross the driest and hottest desert for me?

Climb the hardest, highest, most dangerous mountain for me?

Go through not just the highs, but the lows in your life for me?

Why is it when I cry to you,

I get nothing from you.

Why do I receive more love

From that which is invisible?

You, who is there, real, visible before my eyes,

Where is the hug I long for?
Where is the time I long for?

I just want you. Nothing else.

How come when I cry, "Abba Father," I get a response,

Whether it be the wind, a flower, or a melodious birdsong?

Yet when I cry "Daddy, Daddy!" in simple English,

I get nothing more than a sad, dead silence?

You say you love me.

I know you love me.

But is it measurable, or immeasurable?

Will I never know how much?

Socially Awkward?

Yes, that's me. I need some help.

This Is It

It's terrifying to me that one day I could be asked why I believe what I believe and not have an answer. So today I sat in Math class and truly thought about it. I sorted through tons of questions searching for an answer to each. Why do I think there is a Creator? Why do I follow him? Why do I believe what I believe? How do I know he has a plan for me?

If I am completely honest, I pursue this relationship with God because it gives me purpose. If I didn't feel like I had purpose I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be alive anymore. If this life was all that existed, why should I still be here? What purpose would I have? A girl whose family deteriorated. A girl without a father. A girl who basically believes she wasn't enough to keep her father to stay.  A girl who can't get herself to talk to her father now because she's afraid she'll just be talking to the alcohol he drank not long before. What purpose can she have? She's no help so why keep trying, keep living?

So this is why I am who I am. He gives me purpose. Because of what I believe, I know that the bad that has happened will be for the good later on. I do have a purpose. And another smaller reason would be love. I do feel it. And what's more, it won't fail me like my father.

Insignificant Pens and Pencils?

The other day I was asked if I draw because I am somewhat talented? I don't believe that inquiry could be farther from the truth.

I draw because of the feeling that fills me when
a pure, white sheet of paper is before me. That mere sheet can represent
everything. It can become anything. I could create a mess or beauty. It
could be
fantasy or reality.

I draw because the waterfall of colors splashing
across a seemingly dull page of nothing can magically bring life. It
becomes an explosion of shades mingling together creating something truly
magnificent before my eyes.

I draw because the ugly and the beautiful become
one of the same. Both are on different ends, yet are made equal, made worthy
by
the same action.

Perfect, pristine pictures or detestable
drawings gone wrong, this is why.

A Step Into Reality

I want the friend who has always been there. The one you have known for as long as you can remember. The one who knows you inside and out. The one you can call the best friend and not have a single doubt that you're their best friend.
I want the time. The time to lay sprawled out in a sea of wildflowers with your hair wildly scattered behind your head. The time to lie there holding hands with your best friend watching the amorphous clouds drift along the great expanse of blue.

I have the best friend. My God is my best friend, but that best friend, can't be the latter.

It's Not Just A School

I can't help but sometimes wonder if I made the right choice. I pass the same people everyday and they're all just the same. It's a crazy whirlwind of selfishness that I live in.

Let Me Be

No.

I'm done.

Stop.

She's Growing Up

Whenever I think about March 20th, I get a little nervous. I've never really been on my own, save walking around my neighborhood, and now I'm going to be boarding a plane all by myself. It is slightly nonsensical that I'm thinking so much into this, but to me, this is my first adventure. It's the first time I'll be exploring without parental guidance. It's thrilling to me. I am floored to get out and see something different, to see a different group of people. I have a major desire to experience something more than my own backyard. My mom asked me how I felt about going off without someone except my sister, and I told her. I told her exactly what I wrote and all she had to say was, "You're growing up." Yet, she didn't say it in a "oh no! my daughter will leave me someday" way. It was an appreciative tone. As if she sees that I don't want to live a life of banality, but instead, make something of my life. I'm not sure completely, but I think she understands.

You're My Beautiful Mess

The other morning I stood before my stove making Swedish pancakes. There I would pick up the bowl of batter and let it slosh and glop about the sizzling pan. I was extremely excited to taste my perfectly made pancakes until I had to flip it. Lying on the hot pan was an ugly, wrinkled mess and I, for some reason, thought it would taste absolutely horrible. Yet when I had finally decided to take a bite, I was chewing the most decadent pancake I had ever beheld in my life. I never had thought a pancake could be decadent, but dear me, it was. Though, what I realized was truly the best. Just two little thoughts.

1) I have an even deeper appreciation for the workmanship of
humans (if that is possible).

and

2) There is a such thing as a beautiful mess.

How absolutely perfect are we made? How positively beautiful and intricate are we? I can hardly make a lousy pancake, but there is someone who can create a wonderfully magnificent human. But sometimes we look at eachother and just pick out the flaws. The only aspect of someone that is visible to us is the mess. Except, aren't we all beautiful messes? So, take the chance, take a step closer, get a taste of a person; you start to enjoy the person. You see the beauty that lies there seeping within the mess.

You Are Goodbye

I remember here.
I remember you and me.
I remember wild and wild and free.

Playing together, having fun, laughing.

I remember stay.
I remember please don't ever leave.
I remember you made me believe.

You are good, good, goodbye. You are goodbye.

That tomorrow and today the sun would hold our hands,
But the night came into stay while you made other plans.
I remember time.
I remember days slid into you.

You were everything to me.

Building lifetimes thinking you'd be here,
But tomorrow and today, well they misunderstood
And you went along your way.
I think you're gone for good.

You are good, good, goodbye. You are goodbye.

If

"If you can keep your head when all about you

are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

but make an allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream--and not make dreams you master;

If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which saids to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virture,

Or walk with kings--nor those the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run-

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it

And--which is more--you'll be a man, my son!"

-Rudyard Kipling