Catch for Us the Foxes

Water Me

2011-05-28T12:21:00.008-05:00

What about this world would change if we could give everyone the chance
To take a 30 minute long shower
Or what if we could let every kid pee in a pool
What if we just gave every single one a deep cup of cold
To cool and wash the top to bottom-dwellers
The southern Mississippians to the southern Sudanese

Maybe this could happen
If we cared less about fertilizer
Or oiling our own skins we could wash others with what we’ve got to share
Now you’re thinking I’m naiive –
Just some lazy poet who has the time to grieve the lives of those I’ll never meet
And mourn the mothers of the children I’ll never meet

Why should we care?
We, friends, with white skin of any language
Our bodies turned inside out so we can wash away the dirt
But we can’t reach our hearts anymore
Can’t exfoliate its crevices and valves
Can’t bleed it without making an unsightly, fluid mess

Come on – let’s wash everybody
Let’s douse gardens instead of graveside flowers
Let’s get everyone to take warm showers
And although we may never see eye to eye on sprinkle or dunk
Let’s all get drunk killing this unwitting greed
Grow, sprout, pull weeds – and water me.

Veil

2011-05-01T15:30:00.009-05:00

there's a canopy covering the textile mill

it's the greed of another paying your bills

you'd rather see your babies keep breathing

than fight the good fight we all need we're needing

come on holy won't you rain down

you're a perfect father and i need a hug

i'm not saying that it's gotta be perfect or it's gotta be grand

we're ready for whatever when you’re holding our hands

eyes are burning but they just can't sleep

the cuts and canyons in my heart are getting too deep

it seems i've gone too far and no one wants me around

the echo of my self-defense is the only trusted sound

i'm hanging on to your letters but i can't find my veil

i must have sold it when i lost sight of your fine coat tail

my joints are getting stiff and my bones are rotting slowly

without a word from you, i - your bride – am waning, lonely

Practicing Being Human

2011-04-05T22:13:00.004-05:00

I think I have a speech impediment and I laugh awkward because I haven't spent enough time practicing either. Like a muscle you don't exercise.

Maybe that's why rich old people who can afford to retire comfortably get so crabby: failure to enjoy life leads to flaccid happiness.

Twitter Me This

2011-02-22T22:19:00.003-06:00

There are so many things you could possibly care about in this world, this life. I am so desperately trying to care about the right ones.

Instead of blogging, I am obviously much more comfortable applying the 'one-liner' approach to expression. This says much about the sad state of emotive maturity I can claim. Mostly because it implies my skills would best be suited to launching a Twitter account than transcribing timeless prose.

Sexist

2011-02-09T09:47:00.003-06:00

So, I know this entirely irrelevant and foolish to feel, but it often seems to me that men get all of the talent and women are simply there to populate the action. Why the hell are men attracted to women? Unless needy or a woman themselves in strength and mental capacity, I see no reason why any real man would choose to waste his time on affection or adoration. They are silly, and certainly produces no improvement in faculty or worldy recognition. Inconsequential notions of love, with no expectation of reciprocation.

Ghastly imbalance, isn't it? It feels so much like the Lord.

Worst thing I've ever said, yes. But this is what blogs are for. Mistakes. That you may digitally erase, if you choose to be less real with your audience. Not this time, suckers.

Commendation for Exposed Ugliness

2010-11-28T18:26:00.004-06:00

I wrote this for my comp class. I don't want to lose anything I've written [because if you are any sort of follower you know it is a piteously rare event], so I have chosen to consolidate certain things here. The 'audience' was my entire class. We are tight, I suppose, in that "I feel so digitally close to you" kind of way.

Once more I would like to remind the audience that I am NOT an English major. Being in this class has made me feel like one. I have slacked off, chosen to not do homework on time precisely because that is my romantic picture of what English majors do. They sit around drinking red, red wine, breathing carcinogens, and dining on words, mostly those of dead people who knew how to live and remembered to write it down so the rest of us would have some clues about what life if supposed to look like.

Obviously I have spent little time doing these things previous to my pretend semester as one of you. My bank account is full of cash I should have [at times] spent on mind-altering substances, and my life is pretty reflective of how much advice I have gleaned from furled, decaying wisdom.

This may be the only assignment I haven’t put off out of fear and nauseating insecurity. I remember having to leave the shop where I was trying to write a response to “Portrait of My Body” I felt so naked. Writing the second essay was hell [with zero self-esteem reserves left after ending a four-year relationship] I wrote whatever the rigor mortis in my heart would consent to. Talk about crap.

But I think this class has made me human again. I don’t even care if you think that I’m overstating what it has meant to me. Most days I felt I wasn’t learning anything – my writing was the same pile of puss as it begun as, and - damn it - bad things were STILL happening. My dual nature only worsened, until finally I realized. I’m not a fake, and no one really cares what I write anyway. Yes, I’m much stranger than I ever conceived of, but I love being alive and every day of this stupid 9am, and every last-minute blog/essay/reading has been a coal-walk towards reality. Life is so beautiful. Writing it down matters. Stop being lazy and do it, and – dear competitive soul of mine – it’s worth doing even if you aren’t the best. Because you never will be. Isn’t that beautiful?

Each of you have taught me so much about writing, I cannot even express. I am amazed by the vulnerability and truth I have seen. I wish everyone was brave enough to say the things you all have. I regret not saying more aloud, in this, the one space it seems appropriate to be careless and altogether human. Thanks for visiting the dark side of the soul, the Ugliness that lives in everyone. We’ve won over it really, by acknowledging it’s presence. Can’t stand the light, you know.

I would like to end with something that reminds me to keep living, and to do it better. I have always loved this line, and feel that by just being around you in these pseudo-intimate ways, I have learned to follow and understand more clearly.

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?

"God lives in coffee shops."

2010-11-17T11:01:00.004-06:00

Dearest Coffee Shop,

I had been gone too long, I know. Thanks for welcoming back into your cozy, single-booth bosom this month. You might be expensive, some might say you're just full of indie trash - but your music is the best. Moody, maybe. But perfect.

And thanks for employing such cute boys to make eyes at me while I enjoy you hours on end for the fabulously low price of $1.09.

Love has been waiting, patient and kind.
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign,
That the one that she cares for, who's out of his mind,
Will make it back safe to her arms.

Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.
Weary head hung, eyes to the floor.
He says "Love, I'm sorry", and she says, "What for?
I'm your and that's it, Whatever.
I should not have been gone for so long.
I'm your's and that's it, forever."

You're mine and that's it, forever.

Pause. Proceed.

2010-11-14T21:34:00.001-06:00

When I consider my days and what my life truly consists of, I realize that we do indeed ‘live in the pauses.’ Most of us are not even aware of this fact, and yet it remains that the majority of our lives are lived between significance. That is, if you ascribe to the worldview that requires action to bestow significance. But enough musing about acknowledgment – what of these pauses? What do we do in them and why do we often overlook them if they frame our every experience?

I think the answers to these questions are inescapably personal. We become who we are in the quiet times, and only when all distractions are suspended in a pause can we hear our own consciousness clearly enough to recognize it as our own. So often we live in business that decries any attempt to analyze, to breathe and think deeply. I submit that those who have learned to indulge in these pauses – available to all human kind, educated or idiotic – are the wisest among us.

In my own life, pauses reveal truths about humanity that my typically task-oriented psyche deems inefficient. God, how I wish I could slow down and take a big whiff of every pause, prick my finger on it, watch the consequences slowly gush out – remember how real it is to be alive.

Portrait of My Body, A Rewriting

2010-11-14T21:33:00.000-06:00

I’m old enough now to be ashamed that I’m still not alright with my flaws – I’ve got issues, and I’m working on them, but the consistency of my self-love still fluctuates like my plans for the future. I know where I want to go, how I want to feel, but I’ve spilled coffee all over my map and smeared the emergency instructions with my greasy fingers.

The parts of my body that I have the most vehement love/hate for are my boobs and my hands. First, the most awkward.

I can’t stand breasts. I mean, they’re alright on anyone else, but I spend more time covering them up and stuffing them into far past fitting clothing than I do using them for the good of humanity. This may be a bit too much to share, but there has only been one non-family member to ever have seen them and I’d like to keep it that way. I guess after reading “Portrait of My Body” boobs seem less shocking to talk about (at least I hope), but the are a constant impediment to my self-esteem and I just needed to get that off my chest.

Second – and I know several people have already explained why hands are so crucial to this portrait we’re all trying to paint. My hands, though, are different than all of yours. They’re the only thing I share with my father anymore, too damn short to do anything magical with a guitar, and draw painful attention to the fact that no one has yet deemed me worth spending their whole life with.

But. My hands are everything. They’ve written beauty and despair and question upon question, petitioning a God who always writes back but rarely what I want to hear. They’ve made me a worthy helper; in the kitchen, in making dreams come true, in worship, in an unforgettable embrace. They work independent of my good sense and refuse to rest though my bloodshot eyes beg them. They refuse to hold a paintbrush correctly or craft anything worth critical praise. And the thumbs. Well, the right-handed one. Gnawed on since before I can remember. The carnage is impossible to contain with band-aids, or disguise with an accessory. Its beastly, calloused form a perpetuated icon of doubt and disappointment.

Look Up, Love

2010-11-14T21:31:00.001-06:00

No one likes to break up. Though in my short life I have had the privilege of breaking very few hearts, the one I speak of is the one I relish least. It was the weekend of Halloween, when terrifying, gruesome things become commonplace. This unfortunate application of the holiday’s good intent on the conversation between me and the man of my dreams can be simplified as such:

Girl loves Boy.

Boy loves Girl, but cannot profess to like Girl.

Girl and Boy both weep for days.

Girl continues to weep, but disguises it with isolation and noise.

It happened strangely like the way we met – unexpected by both, sudden, unstoppable. We had just driven to our home town together, for what I had planned to be a much needed rest. The two and one-half hours of travel had been the best time together in weeks, totally alone, no music to cover up a lack of conversation, just pure, intimate dialogue. Nothing about us (of course), just the important things like God, people, and – I thought – how we felt so much the same about the world and all of the goodness and garbage in it.

For so long I’ve wished I knew what it was like to be someone else. There were plenty of girls I could see him with, just never myself. I think that’s what hurt the most as I pressed my cheeks into the chilly window to brace my body as my heart dribbled out my nose onto my chest. There had been signs of his wavering affection: fractures in his smiles, the absence of appreciative gazing. How had I not seen? I felt betrayed, foolish. After seven years of falling in love over and over again with my best friend, he had left me in his heart. He told me he loved me, he just couldn’t stand to not return the passion I had for him, to hurt me by staying. He wanted to be with me, wanted to make me happy. He just couldn’t. His voice and snot mingled in a way I had never seen, and I knew he meant it. And that was all.

That moment was more than the hardest of my life. It was the realization of my greatest fear: that I truly am unlovable. It taught me in an instant what I otherwise would never have discovered about myself – that no one can be everything. Because he was everything, except mine. I go back to that moment in my mind, and still can’t understand what it was that made his heart break mine, without his consent. But it’s in me, too. My brain, like two puny arms struggling to reach around another’s soul with desperate passion, just like his heart labored to love me, but lacked. My character had grown obese; no one could wrap themselves around all of me.

For those of you fortunate enough to have never experience such terrifying reality, the period after heartbreak of this magnitude is much like utter, debilitating exhaustion – the kind that turns the world into a dream. If I had done drugs I could liken it to a bad trip. You never know what is real, and what is just a chemical imbalance inducing hypersensitive brain activity. The whole thing seems squinty-eyed – the world, too bright to bear. Instead – having gotten all of my former kicks from being a premarital housewife – I can only tell you that the several days following “the deed” were not pretty, and so I will spare you any further articulation of the ugliness of my soul.

I found myself behaving in ways much stranger than I ever imagined I could. I mapped each fiber, stain, and crumb of my carpet while crawling on my hands and knees, petitioning God to reward my abandonment of self-respect. I hadn’t been using it for quite some time, so why not offer it in exchange even for some shred of comfort? I was also battling a depressive tendency that I rarely needed to acknowledge as dangerous. I was less careful around moving or sharp objects, and nausea kept me safe from nourishment, save caffeine. Gradually I matured to walking (the thanks most likely due to the accumulated stimulants); even leaving my apartment occasionally to remind myself the world had not ended, though mine had. In one such visit to the outside world I happened upon a sunset. I wistfully dismissed it as further justification of my self-loathing – such beauty existing that I can claim no part in creating. Fortunately, this was the moment the tire of my scooter tire tripped in a pothole and I instinctively pleaded that God preserve my life. Damn it. My stupid brain-mouth had shot-off again and confessed. I wanted to live. I just need one more chance.

There are no statics in space, only balls of gas and fire and ice, all poised for some magical phase change – to be extinguished or ignited. People are this way. We’re all chaos, crammed into flesh that will betray us in the end, atrophy and shatter. In the meantime we contend with ourselves for love – will I allow myself to be loved, and inevitable hurt; to love others beyond reservation, beyond reason? Maybe this seems cliché, maybe it’s been said before. I don’t care – we still don’t live like we mean it. We’re all waiting for that match to make us burn, and hoping that as our bodies turn into embers, our love will leave a fragrance. So the story ends, against all odds:

Girl learns to hope.

“Soundtrack to My Life”, or “I Wish Music Played During Epic Moments of My Life"

2010-11-14T21:27:00.001-06:00

1991 – I creep into the living room at the sound of his patent leather Brooks Brothers business lace-ups. It’s passed my bedtime – but no one who cares will stir. He is already in the pantry, filling his fading plastic cup with Raisin Bran and gathering an extra spoon for his Puddin’ Cakes. We sit together, side by side, me leaning my tiny 4-year-old elbow on his masculine thighceps. When it plays I know he will stay with me at least 30 minutes. “Suicide is Painless.” I pray for a midnight marathon.

1993 – Because my mom doesn’t like to dance, he dances alone in the garage. He lets me come, too, whenever I am lucky enough to detect the smooth hum of his approaching Lexus. He teaches me to dance – with my feet on top of his – to the best. Celine Dion reminds him of being a lover, and the Motown gives his talented feet and jaunty hips something to sing along to.

1998 – Every morning! She plays that same soundtrack – one that someday much later I will cry along to, just as she is doing so now. I fall in love with love here, humming and imprinting every lyric of My Best Friend’s Wedding. Thank you Tony Bennett – I do look rather…the way. Like it or not, I’ll keep this breathless, 11-year-old charm as long as I live.

2001 – It is the eve of my first kiss. All the ballads in the world couldn’t compare to the song christening this magical moment – Creed’s “With Arms Wide Open”? Subject matter: reluctant acceptance of manhood and pregnancy announcement. Perhaps jumping the gun just a bit.

2003 – I know every word to Maroon 5’s Songs About Jane, the sexuality of each song of which is chipping at my resolve to not crush on the greatest man-hoar of the entire high school band WITH WHICH I am on this brilliant cruise to the Bahamas. Friends, manipulation, misguided affection, and jealousy. It’s wrong, and stupid – but – this love has taken it’s hold on me. . .

2004 – Where did you come from? You’re a world of sounds, some soft, some abrasive – none of which I can get enough of. I pop the first album you ever gave me into my car stereo – Underoath “The Sun Still Sleeps.” I scream the only words I can make out until my lungs dispel every life-giving breath, and replace them with your scent. Your smile tells me there is more.

2005 (summer) – You’re gone too fast but you left your noise. I’m forever changed. My heart henceforth rejects that my ears don’t approve. You gave me mewithoutYou, the first band I ever claim as my favorite. They still are. You still are. But you’re gone, and all I have are these lyrics to puncture what is left of my heart, oozing the truth you taught me. Blaring it out my window, hoping you’ll hear it across town and run to my rescue.

2005 (fall) – Enter Punk Me. The Descendents, Against Me!, The Aquabats, The Ramones, and (shudder) Alkaline Trio. I fell into someone new for what mattered and continues to – his auditory individuality. He made me a princess when he rewrote the lyrics to “Every Thug Needs a Lady” – and stuck to me everyday, despite my affections clinging to the summer love I had lost. Ahh, security with a price.

2006 – Leaving for college and never looking back. As I drive down Highway 280 I scream the words of Sixpence None the Richer and mewithoutYou – “I guess you could say I’m a little afraid, “ and “He made the world a grassy road before our bare, wandering feet...” Everything was new; all sadness shackled to the north part of the state.

2007 – To compensate for a lack of companionship, I am swimming in comfort tunes. Nothing new, just oldies and goodies. They sing me to sleep when no one is around, and spend lonely Friday nights with me, blasting away the silence of my dorm room and the terrifying absence of distraction.

2008 – Live music is the only music. You loser, don’t you go to real shows? The question is not “do you like music” it is only “what kind do you like?” Impress me.

2009 – I’m in a rut, and it shows. No music, no life. I sit in my room, gaining weight and pretending to enjoy ambient, indie rock. I want to break something.

2010 – Here we are. I’m pulled myself out of the rut, but I’m still searching, still scouring the airwaves for something I can live and die to every day. I need you to fill me, to say these hard things for me. I’m guzzling Death Cab for Cutie and John Mark McMillan like antidepressants on a suicide binge. I’m going to make it or die singing along, one fist in the air.

Some thoughts to come back to..

2010-09-10T08:10:00.003-05:00

"Why I Believe in Spontaneous Combustion"

kw: inflammation, senioritis, smoking

World-- you're so beautiful I think I may die today--

kw: bunny, 3-in dragonfly, leaf dangling in thin air

My self-actualizing, self-defeating writing-style

kw: jogging, slow gait, (see above two snippets), Maslow, cornucopia, painful, forced, last minute, breathless, direly intentional, solitude, quiet, jammies or sweats, sporadic, pace, inconsistent, anxious heart rate, sweat=atrocious handwriting, stubborn habits (alone, mornings only; initial paper drafting, initial midnight drafting . . .

On Choices

2010-08-10T21:18:00.002-05:00

It is simple to choose the right thing or to not choose the wrong thing when there is no choice.

Only when there is choice, however, does choosing well come attached with a blessing.

My Etsy

2010-08-02T13:14:00.004-05:00

Etsy: Your place to buy & sell all things handmade
christiwhispers.etsy.com

a time to

2010-07-10T08:06:00.014-05:00

i was laying in bed last night thinking over things that i feel are constantly thwarting my good plans, what i thought were God's plans for my life. i was just about to finish up hanging the decorations for my little self-thrown, no-one-invited-but-me pity party when i heard God in my mind. it is sometimes hard to decipher which thoughts are mine and which are his, but generally it is pretty obvious which are holy (difficult to swallow) and which are carnal.

i guess this is the point in this story that requires a degree of background -- yesterday i received my housing/job assignment for next year. i am in the worst possible building on campus per the mold growth, humidity, and location, not to mention the absence of promotion. when the news came i was sitting with Hope and on the phone with a friend i worked with in housing last year. her news was ecstatic, thankfully. when i got off the phone i realized what this really meant. that i was being punished by my slew of bosses, and that everything 'unfair' about my life was now significantly less bearable. tears.

however, the story doesn't end there. Hope and two friends from ACF were leaving moments after my meltdown to attend a fireworks show at Callaway gardens. joy! there was a circus, plastic ping-pong paddles, rain, cha cha sliding, and lightening! the show was glorious, and the trip as a whole a wonderful time. but when the sky cleared, my own clouds resumed their pursuit. i told Hope off for the millionth time about how nothing was fair, nothing is planned for, and nothing is beautiful about us anymore. sulked off to bed and continued to remind God what he has not done for me lately. and, bless Him, that is when he really broke my heart. he said,

"it isn't the bridegroom's fault that the bride is still waiting.
it is the brides job to be prepared and mature and wholly devoted."

and then,

"He won't come until her love is real.
when He does, he'll make her love perfect."

isn't he magical?

although i don't feel justified in my dissatisfaction with these seemingly insurrmountable circumstances, i know that God feels my longing. he doesn't condemn me when i say it isn't fair, he just lets me cry, but he isn't just a shoulder. he tells me what i could never know i wanted to hear -- that he is really the only thing worth waiting for.

something for the disappointed and the loveless...

take care of yourself, have a good time, and make the most of whatever job you have for as long as God gives you life. and that's about it. that's the human lot. yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what's given and delighting in the work. it's God's gift! God deals out joy in the present, the NOW. it's useless to brood over how long we might live.

and

imagine! his left hand cradling my head,
his right arm around my waist!
oh, let me warn you, sisters of Jerusalem:
don't excite love, don't stir it up,
until the time is ripe -- and you're ready.

summer goals (Updated July 14.10)

2010-06-30T10:40:00.006-05:00

i don't have much time left, but i figure that most are manageable demands on my time. i will edit this as the summer goes on, and change fulfilled goals to green. better get going >_<

learn to sew
make an A in 1)costume construction and 2)experimental food science
lose 10 lbs
save 2,000$
go home twice

go to 5 shows

{1. SummerSideShow 2. mewithoutYou @ Bottletree 3. Chariot @ The 7 4. Scream the Prayer @ The 7 5. A Rose By Any Other Name @ The 7}

dye my hair 2 colors
sell 1-2 of my computers
learn 5 new guitar chords

{Dm, C#m, B#m, ...}

not lose my job
give away more than i buy
blog more often
help mom with her manuscript
visit david
visit katie j.
read 5 books

{1. Enough, Will Samson 2. The Great Divorce, Lewis 3. Miracles, Lewis 4. The Spirit of Lovliness 5. New Monasticism, Jon WilsonHartgrove}

complete 20 hours of RD shadowing
juice fast {8 days}
make dave a bday present {well, i made the card}
visit the meat lab
start a prophecy journal

I'm Glad I Didn't Die Before I Met You

2010-01-19T17:24:00.001-06:00

they stole my song, but whatever. precious.

Save the date! 31 july 2010 from Kishi-Grover on Vimeo.

"Farmboy"

2010-01-19T00:02:00.003-06:00

i desperately need someone to care for me and about what i am going through, what i am interested in, what i like and don't like. it truly is the one thing in life that i long for. that and soft, warm things like small mammals and heating blankets. i digress.

a friend said to me recently, "if it weren't blatant sin, i would be a lesbian." i concur. men have no idea what is going on, and most of them don't really care to. but God's heart is all about knowing me...and inviting me to know him.

i am so in love.

the title is a reference to another conversation i had with a friend tonight. it's what she calls the man she will one day call husband. it's a reference from The Princess Bride. i think both she and the film are brilliant and i love them both.

love love love...

On Wounding Family

2010-01-18T11:00:00.000-06:00

ever wonder how things can go so badly, so quickly? like all of a sudden, you are ruining the life of the person you love the most?

i heard an intriguing explanation for why this is so, this mystery of why we treat those we love the most with the greatest degree of contempt, or even why we hold ourselves to a higher standard than even the Most High does.

now, i cannot explain why we treat ourselves worse than anyone we know externally except for possibly it is that we listen to lies about ourselves and therefore must enforce them and therefore limit our rightful level of freedom. but i do now see that when we love someone --and this is true love that believes all things and hopes all things but is still filtered through humanity -- we in essence make them part of ourselves. so, those impossible standards we hold ourselves to are forced onto them.

this revelation really helped me understand why it is possible for me to be so cruel to the one i would lay down all that i have for, but would hardly say a cross word to someone i barely know. we make love so complicated.

I'm like, 'Get off the line - what if he calls?'

2010-01-16T21:21:00.001-06:00

Wait It Out

2010-01-14T20:36:00.004-06:00

Decided to learn how to post videos today.
Don't worry, it only took me several minutes.
Just in time, too.
I found this of Imogen Heap while on a TED binge.

Can you hear my heart?

the thing that babies laugh for, the thing that jesus died for

2010-01-13T20:12:00.009-06:00

My dear children, let's not just talk about love;
let's practice real love.
This is the only way we'll know we're living truly,
living in God's reality.
It's also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism,
even when there is something to it.
For God is greater than our worried hearts
and knows more about us
than we do ourselves.

there are several things i have been thinking about lately, things i desperately want to get down on paper.

primarily i want to record this recurrent feeling of possessing so much love i want to give, but find no willing recipients. there are certainly those who seek my attention and companionship on occasion, but what of it? this is not love - this is boredom or loneliness. it isn't even that i need someone to love me back at the present, although that indeed would be ideal. it is much more that i want to make a difference to someone. have someone need me, and grow alongside me. i want to enable people and bear their burdens, infuse their thoughts with hope and peace. i have the energy for it. for a long time it seems i have burdened myself with getting exactly what i want only to find that i had left MY first love. i have him back.....now to whom may i pour?

another vastly consuming query is, what is so wrong with romance? yes, there is a season for all things, but to exclude the necessity of romance amidst our human life is like killing art. there is no purpose for it, no reason a'tall. but Gracious God, in his beauty and sensitive heart gave us rainbows and sunsets and fingers and collar bones.....they are all his. and this tingling feeling in my cheeks and nose is an act of worship. i wish i could be more humble or reserved or mysterious or whatever you would like to say i am not. but i know what exists. the people who have it and give it are not perfect, but perfect love casts out the fear of having to be perfect, the fear of rejection, the fear of being alone, the fear of death, the fear of unfulfilled life, the fear of hardship, the fear of poverty, the fear of the world. perfect love is what we all are seeking, but are so satisfied with these things. i know this is nothing inventive or new.....nothing we can do or say can even begin to improve on God's love.

because i knew you, now i know love
now i know what i want more of....

Joy comes in the morning

2010-01-13T08:09:00.003-06:00

last night i really had a break down. i'm talking ice cream (twice) and an entire bag of salt and vinegar rice cakes. i hate when this happens. fortunately i have wonderful friends that will pick me up twice in one night, share ice cream with me (twice) and buy me chips and hummus when the first and second courses of solace were just not enough.

i have a true problem with patience. i have found a balance between hoping with every cell of my body while busying myself with the tasks at hand -- even beginning new ones -- but i always seem to fall. funny how that coincides with the days i feel confidant enough in myself that i don't need God to tell me anything new, or when i am content to put off worshiping him with every breath.

and then i wake, and what do i find? another blessed friend reiterating the truth of my condition.

in the silence, he is speaking.

Harvey

2010-01-09T09:52:00.005-06:00

"Good heavens, haven't you any righteous indignation?"

"You know, years ago my mother used to say to me [...],
'In this world, you must be ohh so smart, or ohh so pleasant.'
Well for years I was smart.
I recommend pleasant. "

- Ellwood P. Dowd

a meal to loose the chains of injustice

2010-01-07T20:15:00.008-06:00

dinner.

glory.

Year of Winterpast

2010-01-05T14:27:00.008-06:00

Look, the winter is past, and the rains are over and gone.

i am sort of bumming the title gracing my new year from someone very wise. no, not Solomon himself, more like his 21st century younger sister. as for resolutions accompanying this byword, here is my working list.

revision is inevitable.

1. make marked progress in the practice of my new guitar

2. banish 15 pounds from my, um, problems areas

3. keep the weight off by doing more of what i love: running, dancing, and playing games

4. discover which games it is i like

5. get asked to dance

6. go to things and places i plan to (i.e. not wussing out at the last minute) even if it means going it alone

7. watch more good films.....in my p.j.'s (i.e. learn to relax)

8. read 24 books independent of school

9. finally study abroad (or mission abroad, whichever opportunity presents itself first)

10. read the word every day

11. fast more regularly

12. visit friends in faraway places

13. record a song

14. color my hair 4 shades

15. learn to sew with more success

16. stop pursuing relationships with emotionally unavailable people

17. stop pursuing any relationship with a boy entirely

18. help Muffin lose 3 pounds (she glares)

19. raise my GPA above a 3.3

20. binge less

21. cook more

22. cry less
23. pray more

24. and finally, become more gracious and forgiving, humble and soft-hearted

"because you need music"

2010-01-01T14:40:00.006-06:00

i just bought a cd for the first time in three years. this of course means that i am officially single. $20 and several tears later, i am feeling marginally better. i shelled out the cash and accepted the ajoining implications with the hope and determination to remain faithful, productive, and war against bitterness. small price to pay, don't you agree?

the said inspiration came from sir bradley's newest The Thing That Poets Write About, The Thing That Singers Sing About (2007). i was listening to the record in its entirety on the iPod that Hope gave me on my birthday last year and recently returned to me. by the time it reached this track, i was feeling devastatingly emo. the words rang more true than anything i have said in the past four months, perhaps longer. it's difficult to explain just how far gone i am sometimes....how deeply i want to cling to an impossible situation. i hope to share the song with you soon, but i want to do it in a special way, more than just the title so you can look it up yourself or read some 2-dimensional lyrics. i ordered the cd for the guitar chords so that i can teach myself to play the song. hopefully i will soon enough to be able to record (!!) and upload it for you all to see before i lose my nerve.

i have been so blessed lately with new endevors to occupy my time that i have failed to mention here. AHOP has become the sweetest time of my week...like the sweetest, most natural dessert at the end of a wretched fast-food week. i can't wait to see everyone there again, and to worship and cry my heart out among the thick presence of jesus. i am still working on resting in this same presence when i am alone....it is slow but surely coming :) finally, you know? after years of worshipping, i am in love once again.....i still cry my eyes out everyday it seems, but, thank God, there truly is hope in mourning.

as you may have gathered by now, i recently took up guitar. Hope's former charge, shaun, helped me buy a beautiful Fender on Halloween, which i lusted after all through the month preceeding finals. i had my first lesson with the lovely miss jordan madeline over this christmas break and could not have been more blessed. what an amazing gift she has...and what a beauty to be able to share it with such freedom! things i will never forget...

if anyone would like to donate a lesson or two, i would surely take it!

Measureless

2009-12-09T21:33:00.003-06:00

i wrote this a year or so ago, but reread it and was hoping to get some feedback. if you're reading this, i need your criticisms, and your love.

if there ever was or ever will be, i want you to have
what i'll call
the best of me
my creator my emancipator
i hang on to these chains
look for ways to cast away my gains
never knew what it was like to see
this suffering i'll endure as long as you're there underneath
that amazing forgiving ceaseless beginningless
love for me
in the flesh, in your loving hands that reach out for me
the spirit inside me wells up with grief
honestly give me this pain then
your truth says compared to what i'll inherit
i can take it, and it count it pretty brief

hearts string from end to end
of creators' measureless sea
down roads paved with stone hands and brick-fired tears
there's me
i hear you call
but what's that to me?
i've got my pride and my pain
my addiction my revelry
spilling out of me like so much sand only you can count
i'll implode, though, you'll see
wander about and the question once again
is where, when i'm ready to give in
will this black thing beating land?

River

2009-12-09T21:25:00.003-06:00

of all the Christmas songs skirting the thin air tonight, this one stands the best to describe my heart tonight.
it isn't to bring to revel in self-pity so much as a way to relieve some of those feelings.
the river is what i'll be searching for while i'm at home,
with entirely too much free time placed within my empty hands.
god will see to filling them with good things.

It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money
Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby cry

He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I'm so hard to handle
I'm selfish and I'm sad
Now I've gone and lost the best baby
That I ever had
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby say goodbye

It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

- Joni Mitchell

empirical ethics

2009-09-24T21:33:00.012-05:00

i have far too much homework to be doing anything productive, so here it is, my alternative to reality.

and yet, the reality is that i learned something about myself this evening. having just gotten in from a four-day trip to Indianapolis i am in a sea of katsup - i mean 'catch-up'. preparing for three long hours at Lupton's hottest despot - i mean desk-spot - i made a pilgrimage up to my room to retrieve a certain laptop i now address you from. just as i stepped out of the elevator i caught a glimpse of a traveling object hugging the baseboard next to my door. instinctively i went to crush the creature despite the copromised sole of my slipper, until i realized what species of life i was about to end. yellow-etched and red-headed, the thumb-sized lizard continued down the hall towards the crack beneath my door. unresolved, i allowed the reptile to live until i could locate a suitable trap. safely in my room, a sleep-deprived consciousness of this minute event exploded with meaning. i have spoken on animal rights in the classroom, of course, and even embedded social commentary into my dietary exclusions, but never had i thought to deeply nor so spontaneously of species discrimination. The rights of natural creatures to exist in a human-centric world seemed intuitive to my rational mind, but faced with the physicality of it, i had to will myself to not destroy the animal out of an irrational fear i would wake at 5:00 am to find it perched on my nose defecating in my drooling mouth. what a tangled web we weave...

i digress. having allowed the animal to proceed i realized that despite my good intentions and high opinion of myself, holiness is yet a choice. i recently encountered a doctrine in which Christians born of the Lamb are no longer subject to sin and flesh. as it came from a believer i had invested time listening to, i set out to adopt this as truth during the span of his teaching. an uncomfortableness like listening to bad music you want to like but just can't came over me.....so i left.

i still struggle with my flesh, bleaching my motives, summoning the humility to be corrected by wiser brothers and sisters, among a host of other sins, and hearing such straight-up assertions about where we are all supposed to be on the Way is a little disconcerting. the reptile brought to my attention two major things: one, that i do not love my enemies as my Lover does, and two, that i am not intune with his nature or Nature like i wish i was. i don't eat granola for every meal, i don't always recycle, i don't live in a mud hut or on a farm, i shower, i drink from cans, i own a car, i abuse the right to free toilet paper in public restrooms........etc.

but i do examine. i suppose sometimes that's the most holy thing i can do.

10 years i've been rusting, needing so much more than dusting

2009-09-15T23:07:00.008-05:00

i am often overcome with the feeling that everyone on earth has said "it" better than i could hope to. it....everything, anything, poetry, song, joke, pun, insight......whathaveyou. it's a rather hopeless thought, isn't it, to be inundated with talent and beauty and freedom and unable to share in the joy of another's deepest achievement. what envy is there among a person who would more quickly lament over beauty than bathe in it? i'm not sure, but you can find it here.

with all of my communication and work centrally bound to my computer, i am growing weary of being with myself. for those who know me, this is nothing new, just a weekly bout of depression. but this is a new stormcloud, i feel - we'll call it cumulus depression. this seeping, solitude-induced dejection is wooing me into change, like the humility that the Beast in the Disney classic inherits only from being cursed by bitterness for a decade.

with the help of sir bradley hathaway and countless others, i am learning to embrace the fact that i can usually not have said it better myself.

life and death are in His hands

2009-06-29T08:36:00.002-05:00

i am just copying an email i sent to my mom today to tell a horrific true story. i don't want to repeat these words again because i am ready to move on and bless my enemy.

dear momma,

i didn't want to call you cause i don't know what to say really. jon thought we could tell you in person but i figure it's the same then or now.

yesterday i opened the sliding door to my room and forgot to put the piece of wood back to secure it. this morning at 4:00am a guy came into my room through that door. i woke up and heard him talking to me and he was slurring pretty bad. i told him to get out of my room and he asked me something. i got up and told him again to leave. he asked if i would call the cops. i said i will if you do not leave. then he pushed me really hard and i started screaming at the top of my lungs for siobhan. then he pushed my face into my futon. then he tried to strangle me with his arms. it was really scary and i was just thinking, "there is no way i can get away." i started telling God that i trusted him and i needed him and then for no reason at all, the guy let go. he knocked something over and ran back out the open sliding door. i put the wood back in place and went to the front door to make sure it was locked and called jon. while he was on his way emily sent me a text message and i went in to check on her. she called 911 and the police got there when jon did, about 5 minutes later. then an investigator, and another cop got a formal statement. they took a bunch of information and got fingerprints and went looking for the guy. they left about 5:45am.

i am totally ok, just was very scared. my throat hurts a little, my voice is scratchy, my chest and back are very sore, and my elbow has a mysterious bruise and soreness. one other scratch, but other than that i am perfectly ok. jon prayed for me this morning a lot, and i know i will be ok. i am calling logan square this morning to get them to fix my lock, and check the whole complex. when we moved in both mine and siobhan's door locks were broken.

i hope you will not worry, and remember i am moving into the ultra-safe dorms in only one month. jon said he may stay over here on the floor for awhile if i want, or i could stay over there on his air mattress.

i love you, hope you will not worry. god is protecting us still.

today i am praying that God alone will find this person. i am praying that he will be reborn in Christ today! i have my physical pain to remind me to pray for this lost brother, and a strong man by my side to drive away fear. i am so thankful for what God has done today, and how he has protected me my whole life.

i cherish the chains that bind me to his love ♥

cutie pie

2009-05-25T19:03:00.000-05:00

Airplane

2009-05-21T08:04:00.001-05:00

long skinny arms, strong static tail,
your face is a bullet;

you're a flying, magical whale.

Excerpts

2009-05-20T09:43:00.013-05:00

It's early yet, and I am feeling this may be a double-post day. Lots of thinking thanks to lack of productivity. I assure myself that reading and writing are the two most productive of all sedentary diversions.

Jesus has called us to littleness and compares our revolution to the little mustard seed, to yeast making its way through dough, slowly infecting this dark world with love. - SC

I have been back into Shance Claiborne lately, after reading his book The Irresistable Revolution last summer. My heart is longing for community, people who are not afraid of dreaming, who care about my dreams.

On the subject of dreams, I succumbed to another lie last night. The dream was simple, but devastating. Bad dreams seem only to come when I lie down to sleep when my heart is not at rest. I will spare the details, but the gist was I had been left at the alter. Somehow, I was wed, but the groom was nowhere in sight. It was most disturbing that after the ceremony I was expected to be happy, even by the groom that eventually made it onto the scene.
Alone!

What every girl dreads.

Many of us living differently from the dominant culture end up needing to "despectacularize" things a little so that the simple way is made as accessible as possible to other ordinary radicals. - SC

Definitely feeling this one. After listening to several messages online this week per suggestion by various loved ones, I have drawn a yet vague conclusion that extremes are a huge battle for me. At a buffet, for instance, I take two bites of everything they have, but can rarely commit to any one item. In relationships, I am dissatisfied if there is no dramatic emotion, and yet my heart craves steady friendships -- the kind where I don't have to smile at all, where I learn and teach simultaneously, where interests don't matter so much as a willingness to stay, and love.

I want to be loved and have love and give love, and not just that romantic kind either.
Although I am looking for that beauty -not helpless - but wants to be rescued.
The Damsel in distress,
Man, Woman, Myth, True. - BH

Soon I will write all about my messed up notions of love, when I figure out what is right.
peace, friends.
daYou 5

untitled

2009-05-18T13:37:00.010-05:00

serenaded by a bougeoisie banquet of intelligible sounds,
i am drifting through, i am skimming around
the palace of your chest, the mine of your eye.
i hack and cough, spit and spew
nothing becomes of it
but others notice: more me, less you.
my jelly bean smile is fat like a clown
and the charm 'round my neck --
of cathedral scale -- hangs selfishly.
Upside Down.

daYou 3

They Swear Their Love Is Real

2009-04-30T09:49:00.003-05:00

Every thought a thought of You
No more thought I ought to do
When there is thing we see or touch we trust it's true
Every thought a thought of You

Every look in search of You
No need for books when we're with you
Wear a thin disguise oh like within my brother's eyes
Every look in search of You

Every song in praise of You
Our darkest nights are days to You
The trees raise branches high like arms in church to grateful sky
Every song in praise of You

No one here to believe but You
Everyone else is bound to leave but You
When they swear their love is real
They mean "I like the way you make me feel"
No one here to believe but You
There's no one here to believe but You

-mewithoutYou

Colloquial

2009-04-29T22:16:00.005-05:00

I have sufficiently wasted enough time on facebook and checking my email today that now I may begin to exude my 'leftovers' to you, my beloved blog.

This photo represents my desire, by the way. Author and audience are both open to interpretation of what that might mean.

Today was unspeakably wonderful. Nothing major happened, except for being accepted to an internship for the Fall. It was just lovely to see God at work in my life again...to realize where he is and what he is thinking. I was tutoring this afternoon and realized I have learned so much over the past year with this girl. She is so precious and patient with my humorless edits. I have felt like such a pencil pusher at times, but she encourages me. AND, she made the highest grade on her last Lit paper. We are quite the team.

I also ended another fast today. It was miserable thinking about all the mandatory eating engagements lined up on my calender over the next few days, compounded by the stress and demand imposed by finals week. Have I mentioned that I need a miracle to pass Organic Chemistry? Yes, a parting-of-the-red-ink type miracle. A 73 on my final type miracle.

Jon and I also watched to classics today. Well, one and a half -- I needed a break by 9:30. He wanted to educate me on The Old Man and the Sea and then (because we ran out of Twilight Zone on the disk he brought over), The Cat's Eye by Stephen King. I don't even remember the last time we watched two in one day.

Tomorrow my only plans are to study and consume liquids. Although my fast may be a distant hope once again, I am pleading with myself to not go absolutely overboard. We are going home the weekend of Mother's Day, and I intend to start up again then, because, hallelujah, we have nothing planned for a whole two weeks after that! Then of course it's off to Mobile two consecutive weekends. Weddings, you know. Always the photog, never the bride....

Once shocking thing my 'student' said today was that, since she came to university, she has "no time for music." I found this appalling. No TIME?! What do we as college students have more of? And who does not have time for the most emotionally abundant abstract noun on the planet? To that I simply remind, "Every song a thought of You......"

In other news:
I have a semi-job for the summer! You will never guess doing what! Picking blueberries! I am so excited! I get to be a farm hand!!!! I am so cool.

Anyway, this has been fittingly colloquial. Tomorrow perhaps I will practice diction once again.

so nervous i could eat

2009-04-25T08:29:00.003-05:00

We are going to talk to Matt Dean in 20 minutes!!! AGGHHHH!!!

This morning I also decided to turn Jon's front yard into a green space. the area right outside of his front door is a mess, but there are kids playing there everyday. i want to just pick up all the trash...and i don't know what else yet.

more later.

Jitter Juice

2009-04-23T15:13:00.000-05:00

dear empty blog,

i have missed you darling, truly i have. i write to you now merely as a promise of future cognitions, future secrets i will share. i have missed you, yes, but oh how i am frightened of you all the same. timidity is beginning to end, but sheer will exceeds the reality of desire.

i'm emo today. assuming it's the juice, i ask a pardon extension for my emo writing until further notice.

menu:
carrots
ginger
heavy celery
apple

two final words to serve as an actual update:
a) internship interview went inconceivably well. likely will know the results by next wednesday. praying that God will work that situation out....

b) after two promising phone calls to buildings around town, we have decided to pursue the gay street locale. my heart is jittery just thinking of it....we are attending a yard sale at the building saturday (what fortune!) and hope to speak with the former renters....prayers of all shapes and sizes welcomed...

Kiss me 'neath the big oak tree..

2009-04-03T19:06:00.001-05:00

No update = no fast

Starting again tomorrow. This time I'm going to keep things to myself as much as possible. On another nutrition note, Mia was fed again today. It took me almost an hour to get her food from the Mart down the road, but I finally provided a nice balanced lunch for my baby kitty.

I will update more on yesterday when I have some time..maybe tomorrow. It was fun but ended rough. Today I walked two and a half hours. Things began looking brighter, and I felt Jesus kiss my head for the first time in weeks.

For lack of words, I want to illustrate the some 'hopefulls' of mine in pictures.

kisses <3

Money and the Ministry of the Chocolate Chip Cookie

2009-04-01T16:06:00.001-05:00

Shorter, happier post today :)

Little compromise (just finishing part of a cookie delivered by the fine people at ACF) today and I would say around 11 juice popsicles.

Juice menu for the day:

small bunch of parsely
1 apple
1/4 beet
1/2 inch ginger
2 large handfuls of spinach
2 sticks celery
2 carrots

THEN...

2 sticks celery
2 carrots
1 apple
2 large handfuls spinach

I must say the latter was more refreshing and looked more appealing (to the trained eye) in my crystal glass. Beets, no matter the percentage of a juice, totally take over the color, fragrance, and taste. Because they are not my fave, I would rather them not be there at all! However, I am trying to vary my palate so I will not give in for a different taste.

I called about a building in town today! The former Grace Campus Ministries "cigarrette box" as Katie calls it, is up for rent at a miniscule $500! I called Jon to tell him the wonderful news....he couldn't believe how cheap it was. Then, three hours later I got a check for $3,850.00, overnighted last November. Unfortunately, the check is void after 90 days. Thanks, Logan Square.

I am planning to apply for a summer RA position to supplement my upcoming full-tim fall RA status. Chick-fil-A is also an option. The application is sitting in my car. All that remains before I fill it out is to dispell this nasty rumor they require their employees to "like and eat chicken"......

Sno-Biz reopened today. This, I will allow myself.

Hard to believe so much can happen when I slept through most of the day. Proof renewed that God does not really need me around to accomplish much. I am happy to wait and see.

Spoons!

There's No Fight We Cannot Win

2009-03-31T23:00:00.000-05:00

Dear friends,

I am so happy to begin this blog. Writing has always been a passion of mine, yet unfortunately it is my passions that I seem to run the fastest from. For the past two semesters of university, my life has become a serious of run-on phrases, eclipsed and distracted by mysterious, insidious forces. Since I am in no position to leave my learning at this poing, my only rememdy is to begin something in tandem with my current shedule. And so here I am.

As for old things continuing, my quest to fast is somewhat renewed this night as well. Five months of failure have left me more broken and unclean than before. The agony is my own doing. The words come slowly know, for Inhibitian reads over my shoulder. Morning will prove otherwise. While Wisdom yawns and stretches, Self-Interest lurks quietly to the kitchen.

For the past five days of attempting fasting, compromise has hindered ninety percent of the would-be progress I share with you know. Tomorrow cannot be a day of compromise. Not after last night. Not after I heard how God saved me again from a life of lonliness and fear (I said Devil, disappear!). Not after He saved my beloved's life.

This fast must have definitive purpose other than my insanity and excess twenty pounds. No, this must be about His love. Slashed and shamed though I may feel, nothing compares to a Man who would lay down his life for his friends...to make the chronically antisocial his friend.

Now for the concrete: I intend to fast with zero compromise for ten full-length days. After that, we shall see. The twelfth day would be Easter, and we mustn't miss out on Peep Wars, now must we? Perhaps God will grant me the strength to make it through Easter with minimal indulgance.

Bloody Jesus, may I borrow some of that? To bath my hands and feet with, to roll the dice and cheat with, oh God what have we done...