there aren't many times in life when i'm consciously aware of how thankful i am for where i'm at and where god's had me in the past.
i gripe and gag over some things that've gone down in the past few years.. it's honestly a little difficult to remember life before college.. seems like college took on a life of its own.. most everything that could've changed did change and its been hard for me to keep up.
i complain a lot, relatively speaking. as good as god's been, you'd think i'd have shut my mouth a long time ago. but tonight i feel thankful.
bible college a couple years back was hell. i hated it and have since not said many positive things about it. always leaving room for the "oh, but it might be good for YOU if you want to try it out. it just wasn't good for ME" comment. but dangit, throughout that crappy year god was really close. i was a weeping, whacked out mess but jesus took care of me each and every second. i remember waking up every morning with a brain full of dread, but everyday he gave me grace to keep going. even though teachers got pissed at me for doing my homework in class. the brunt of my time spent OUTside of class was filled with constructive intentions but tired eyes that won EVERY time.
that year was such a blessing. that place became a hellish haven for me. inside it, i felt pretty miserable...but i can tell that i was so protected, too. it didn't matter who i came up against, i could cry in front of anyone and they'd quote scripture to me. it didn't matter whose door i knocked on, SOMEbody asked me how i was REALLY doing. and it didn't matter which professor i couldn't stand listening to...every one of them prayed over me and my class at the start and finish of each period. prayers that helped put meat on my bones when i felt spiritually and emotionally anorexic.
and even if i was a little outspoken and incredibly internally rebellious (and occasionally outwardly rebellious)...and even if i couldn't TAKE IT ANYMORE every second i was there...god gave grace for that. he dumped it on me...and he's still dumping it on me.
good stuff. good god.
that's all.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
I'M COMING OUT about what should really be coming out.
the other day in my sex class there was a panel of LGTBs. for those of you not caught up on the modern day of reality, LGBT refers to the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transexual.. or transgender. both.
one girl on the panel shared her story of coming out. she said that from the day she drew breath she was one of the guys. she was always the tomboy. (mind you, your stereotypes aren't working because this girl's not butch. she's cute and dressed girly and has pretty long hair.) she's outdoorsy and loves all-terrain vehicles. any time she played with barbies when she was little she was terrorizing their plastic beauty, running them through the dirt and cutting their hair... she preferred gi joes.
she said from the beginning she knew she was different. fundamentally different then the rest of the girls. now, she's open about the fact that she's living the lesbian lifestyle and she's proud of it...in a non-offensive way. she seems cool. really.
but here's the deal. how she described herself held an uncanny resemblance to who i was when i was little and who i am now. and she's claiming she's a lesbian.
so, what's that make me?
here's the deal: i believe everyone on the planet has homosexual thoughts. ...but we don't talk about it. personally, i think that a lot of people thinking these homosexual thoughts are probably freaked out by the reality that they're thinking these things. maybe a girl's weirded out when her heart beats a little harder when a vicky's commercial comes up. maybe a jock's creeped by himself and the fact that he notices the physique of his locker room buddies. his friends would think he's a fag if they knew.
here's MY story. i grew up with four-wheelers and plenty of acres of timber and trails. mhmm. clean, brisk air mixed with exhaust gets my heart beating with excitement. i wanna go fast. i grew up in a high school full of girls who were cool, no doubt, but they never struck me as the outdoorsy type. we connected on certain levels but only a few girl friends really understood me. the guys in my school were usually outdoorsy farm boys. MY TYPE (largely). but here's the deal: these dudes didn't like me. if they DID like me, they didn't love jesus (which created problems). if they invited me to hang out with them, my parents wouldn't let me go. i was not allowed to hang out with boys one on one in high school. i was not allowed to hang out with a group of guys unless other girls were there, too. problem: when the guys invited me to go four-wheeling i couldn't go because other GIRLS didn't wanna go or couldn't go because they'd break something. possibly themselves. anyway.. massive frustration because that meant that iiii couldn't go. parents wouldn't let me. you get it.
k. so, anyway, by the end of this story maybe you can gather that i didn't feel like i fit anywhere and i didn't feel like i connected with anyone. the thought crossed my mind "well, what's wrong with me?" then i won homecoming queen. i think people were okay with who i was. and, honestly, i was okay with who i was...but, let's rewind a little bit. i didn't like any boys in high school ('cept that one time with that dude who could beat me on a four-wheeler. supposedly) and guys never liked me to the point of really asking me out. there'd be rumors of "oh, he likes you!" but the jerk never told ME therefore, NO. he didn't like me in any significant amount. the end. that's my logic. but here's what i wondered folks, here was my train of thought:
i like doing boy things. i like hanging out with the guys a hundred times more (if i was allowed to). the girls and i don't connect on a FUN level and i have absolutely zero emotional connection to any of the males walking around me on a daily basis. zero. and it's been ten years--if something were gonna happen you'd think it'd have happened by now. um...am i gay?
other thoughts crept into my mind and i wondered further if my thoughts were professing some homosexual reality that i hadn't accepted yet. then, something happened. my mom mentioned randomly in a conversation that was headed no particular direction, she said, "my word, who HASN'T had homosexual thoughts every now and then?" i remember this sigh of relief washed over me. my mom's been married over thirty years and she and my dad love each other tons. she was a walking, talking STRAIGHT person admitting to having homosexual thoughts throughout her lifetime.
i felt relieved when she'd said this because it was like my deep and dark thoughts weren't so unheard of. they were normal! i read my bible and i know what the lord says about homosexuality and i really believe that homosexuality or any sexual orientation outside of heterosexuality is wrong. i do. but on the off-chance you're narrow minded and are currently accusing ME of being narrow minded, then please refrain. because here's the deal: hating on anyone for anything (their race, their sexual orientation, their lifestyle choices) is wrong. i believe that full force.
i believe that the LGBT lifestyle is a sin. i believe hating on folks living the LGBT lifestyle is a sin. therefore, i'm not narrow minded because i won't bash you for your beliefs. so, don't bash ME for my beliefs otherwise i'll call YOU narrow minded. eat it.
but here's my bit: i'm saying that homosexual/bisexual thoughts don't make you homosexual/bisexual. i wonder if there are LGBT people out there who wouldn't be so if they'd known it's possible to be heterosexual and experience thoughts that stepped over the bounds of heterosexuality. i'm sure not all LGBT people's experiences have been like that, but i still wonder if there have been some.
i believe satan's main scare tactic is to corner you and to isolate you. to make you feel like you're the only one on the planet thinking and feeling what you're currently thinking and feeling. satan tried it one me. i thought homosexual thoughts and something crept over me and suddenly i was worried that i was a lesbian. god used my mom in my life to shed light on the darkness satan was trying to throw over me when she said "my word. who HASN'T had homosexual thoughts every now and then?" i think i was fourteen when this happened. the age when many LGBTs decide whether or not they believe they are LGBT or straight. in the name of jesus, i declare that satan is a douche bag.
satan tried taking me down that road. and HONESTLY, there are still days in my life that homosexual thoughts cross my mind. bisexual thoughts CROSS. MY. MIND. and then i pray in the name of jesus that they would be taken away and that truth would fill up the space satan's lies are trying to take.
i am a heterosexual girl excited about GETTING IT ON with my husband someday. this isn't something that's been a natural thought that's gone completely undebated in my life. but by the grace of god, it's a fact set in stone because i've got the holy spirit living inside of me calling out the bluffs of satan. in this case the bluff of satan sounds like this, "micah, just admit it, you change the channel when victoria's secret commercials come on for guys' purity but also for your OWN purity. a straight girl wouldn't have to do that." holy spirit chimes in and says, "BULL. in jesus' name, satan, GET. OUT."
that's how it goes. and let me be clear: i'm a heterosexual girl excited about GETTING IT ON with my husband someday. i'm not in denial. and my stating that does not imply that i really am in denial. i'm very open about my experiences and i want y'all to know it because life's too short for taboo topics.
i like boys. i like them a lot. i want to marry one someday. i have thought before about girls. there was some temptation there. but god was faithful--he sent his holy spirit to correct the lies that i was thinking about believing and i obeyed him. and life is good.
life is real good. seriously.
one girl on the panel shared her story of coming out. she said that from the day she drew breath she was one of the guys. she was always the tomboy. (mind you, your stereotypes aren't working because this girl's not butch. she's cute and dressed girly and has pretty long hair.) she's outdoorsy and loves all-terrain vehicles. any time she played with barbies when she was little she was terrorizing their plastic beauty, running them through the dirt and cutting their hair... she preferred gi joes.
she said from the beginning she knew she was different. fundamentally different then the rest of the girls. now, she's open about the fact that she's living the lesbian lifestyle and she's proud of it...in a non-offensive way. she seems cool. really.
but here's the deal. how she described herself held an uncanny resemblance to who i was when i was little and who i am now. and she's claiming she's a lesbian.
so, what's that make me?
here's the deal: i believe everyone on the planet has homosexual thoughts. ...but we don't talk about it. personally, i think that a lot of people thinking these homosexual thoughts are probably freaked out by the reality that they're thinking these things. maybe a girl's weirded out when her heart beats a little harder when a vicky's commercial comes up. maybe a jock's creeped by himself and the fact that he notices the physique of his locker room buddies. his friends would think he's a fag if they knew.
here's MY story. i grew up with four-wheelers and plenty of acres of timber and trails. mhmm. clean, brisk air mixed with exhaust gets my heart beating with excitement. i wanna go fast. i grew up in a high school full of girls who were cool, no doubt, but they never struck me as the outdoorsy type. we connected on certain levels but only a few girl friends really understood me. the guys in my school were usually outdoorsy farm boys. MY TYPE (largely). but here's the deal: these dudes didn't like me. if they DID like me, they didn't love jesus (which created problems). if they invited me to hang out with them, my parents wouldn't let me go. i was not allowed to hang out with boys one on one in high school. i was not allowed to hang out with a group of guys unless other girls were there, too. problem: when the guys invited me to go four-wheeling i couldn't go because other GIRLS didn't wanna go or couldn't go because they'd break something. possibly themselves. anyway.. massive frustration because that meant that iiii couldn't go. parents wouldn't let me. you get it.
k. so, anyway, by the end of this story maybe you can gather that i didn't feel like i fit anywhere and i didn't feel like i connected with anyone. the thought crossed my mind "well, what's wrong with me?" then i won homecoming queen. i think people were okay with who i was. and, honestly, i was okay with who i was...but, let's rewind a little bit. i didn't like any boys in high school ('cept that one time with that dude who could beat me on a four-wheeler. supposedly) and guys never liked me to the point of really asking me out. there'd be rumors of "oh, he likes you!" but the jerk never told ME therefore, NO. he didn't like me in any significant amount. the end. that's my logic. but here's what i wondered folks, here was my train of thought:
i like doing boy things. i like hanging out with the guys a hundred times more (if i was allowed to). the girls and i don't connect on a FUN level and i have absolutely zero emotional connection to any of the males walking around me on a daily basis. zero. and it's been ten years--if something were gonna happen you'd think it'd have happened by now. um...am i gay?
other thoughts crept into my mind and i wondered further if my thoughts were professing some homosexual reality that i hadn't accepted yet. then, something happened. my mom mentioned randomly in a conversation that was headed no particular direction, she said, "my word, who HASN'T had homosexual thoughts every now and then?" i remember this sigh of relief washed over me. my mom's been married over thirty years and she and my dad love each other tons. she was a walking, talking STRAIGHT person admitting to having homosexual thoughts throughout her lifetime.
i felt relieved when she'd said this because it was like my deep and dark thoughts weren't so unheard of. they were normal! i read my bible and i know what the lord says about homosexuality and i really believe that homosexuality or any sexual orientation outside of heterosexuality is wrong. i do. but on the off-chance you're narrow minded and are currently accusing ME of being narrow minded, then please refrain. because here's the deal: hating on anyone for anything (their race, their sexual orientation, their lifestyle choices) is wrong. i believe that full force.
i believe that the LGBT lifestyle is a sin. i believe hating on folks living the LGBT lifestyle is a sin. therefore, i'm not narrow minded because i won't bash you for your beliefs. so, don't bash ME for my beliefs otherwise i'll call YOU narrow minded. eat it.
but here's my bit: i'm saying that homosexual/bisexual thoughts don't make you homosexual/bisexual. i wonder if there are LGBT people out there who wouldn't be so if they'd known it's possible to be heterosexual and experience thoughts that stepped over the bounds of heterosexuality. i'm sure not all LGBT people's experiences have been like that, but i still wonder if there have been some.
i believe satan's main scare tactic is to corner you and to isolate you. to make you feel like you're the only one on the planet thinking and feeling what you're currently thinking and feeling. satan tried it one me. i thought homosexual thoughts and something crept over me and suddenly i was worried that i was a lesbian. god used my mom in my life to shed light on the darkness satan was trying to throw over me when she said "my word. who HASN'T had homosexual thoughts every now and then?" i think i was fourteen when this happened. the age when many LGBTs decide whether or not they believe they are LGBT or straight. in the name of jesus, i declare that satan is a douche bag.
satan tried taking me down that road. and HONESTLY, there are still days in my life that homosexual thoughts cross my mind. bisexual thoughts CROSS. MY. MIND. and then i pray in the name of jesus that they would be taken away and that truth would fill up the space satan's lies are trying to take.
i am a heterosexual girl excited about GETTING IT ON with my husband someday. this isn't something that's been a natural thought that's gone completely undebated in my life. but by the grace of god, it's a fact set in stone because i've got the holy spirit living inside of me calling out the bluffs of satan. in this case the bluff of satan sounds like this, "micah, just admit it, you change the channel when victoria's secret commercials come on for guys' purity but also for your OWN purity. a straight girl wouldn't have to do that." holy spirit chimes in and says, "BULL. in jesus' name, satan, GET. OUT."
that's how it goes. and let me be clear: i'm a heterosexual girl excited about GETTING IT ON with my husband someday. i'm not in denial. and my stating that does not imply that i really am in denial. i'm very open about my experiences and i want y'all to know it because life's too short for taboo topics.
i like boys. i like them a lot. i want to marry one someday. i have thought before about girls. there was some temptation there. but god was faithful--he sent his holy spirit to correct the lies that i was thinking about believing and i obeyed him. and life is good.
life is real good. seriously.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
i am NOT that kinda girl!
NO. i do not plan my life.
NO. i do not daydream about my future man.
NO. i have no desire to EVER have a white picket fence in my possession.
NO. i don't get excited to be pregnant and have sweet bouncing babies all over the fricken place.
i'm just not that girl. girls that are that girl are cool. but i'm not them. anyway..
you know the tin man off the wizard of oz? dorothy comes along and he's in miserable shape. he's all rusty and crap's stuck inside his joints and he's frozen in an awkward position. dorothy eventually grabs the oil can and greases him up and he slowly limbers up...what i'm going for here is the sound effect of the tin man's rusty joints being brought back into commission.
visual aid: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=louBM-Mix7s
that sound effect is how i've been feeling this week. started off solid and frozen and miserable. then, it's kinda felt like some of my rusty spots have been getting oiled by jesus...one joint at a time.
so, basically, it's been a long week. but NOW on friday, i feel lots better. and here's what god's been putting in my head. and i'm way excited about it.
k. here's what i wanna do in life. here's what i feel like GOD might wanna do with my life. how cool if he did. and if he decides otherwise, then i'm expecting something that, in my opinion, would be better suited for me. anyway. here we go:
i DO wanna work in the foster care system or in/around adoption agencies/orphanages.
i DO wanna work with "the least of these" (whoever they are and whatever they look like).
i DO wanna get married.
i DO wanna adopt kids and NEVER have my own. EVER. EVER. (this will be addressed prior dating my future husband. if he's not on board 100% then we AIN'T gettin hitched). so much so that i wanna get my tubes tied so that i can't have my own kids. and i never wanna be a surrogate mother because i think everyone should just adopt, anyway.
i DO wanna fight mortal combat the enemy and what he's trying to bring about in the United States. i used to wanna go overseas but the more i learn about the US the more i gotta weight in my gut that's telling me there's lots of hurt that needs helping here.
i DO wanna get married in a court house. i don't wanna spend money on things i don't care about. aka weddings. but, please, feel free to send gifts regardless. :)
i DO wanna dump my heart and energy into raising kids that we adopt and i REFUSE to let anyone else raise our kids. praying god will provide a way for me to be a stay at home mom. i won't agree to having kids if i can't be the one to raise them.
i DO wanna do whatever god wants and i WON'T be content with a mundane life. i don't need it to be hip and happenin all the time, but god's NEVER NOT passionate about stuff that's on his heart...so, i plan on him giving me the grace to keep a fire stoked in my gut about the things he cares about. cuz i wanna care about them, too.
and i DO plan on riding really big roller coasters every chance i get.
and it WOULD be awesome if my husband had a passion for stealing children out of brothels. i will drive the escape car. that'd be sweet. i heard somewhere that 90% of prostitutes at one time were in the foster care system.
WHICH brings us full circle. i wanna adopt. THE. END.
stoked.
NO. i do not daydream about my future man.
NO. i have no desire to EVER have a white picket fence in my possession.
NO. i don't get excited to be pregnant and have sweet bouncing babies all over the fricken place.
i'm just not that girl. girls that are that girl are cool. but i'm not them. anyway..
you know the tin man off the wizard of oz? dorothy comes along and he's in miserable shape. he's all rusty and crap's stuck inside his joints and he's frozen in an awkward position. dorothy eventually grabs the oil can and greases him up and he slowly limbers up...what i'm going for here is the sound effect of the tin man's rusty joints being brought back into commission.
visual aid: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=louBM-Mix7s
that sound effect is how i've been feeling this week. started off solid and frozen and miserable. then, it's kinda felt like some of my rusty spots have been getting oiled by jesus...one joint at a time.
so, basically, it's been a long week. but NOW on friday, i feel lots better. and here's what god's been putting in my head. and i'm way excited about it.
k. here's what i wanna do in life. here's what i feel like GOD might wanna do with my life. how cool if he did. and if he decides otherwise, then i'm expecting something that, in my opinion, would be better suited for me. anyway. here we go:
i DO wanna work in the foster care system or in/around adoption agencies/orphanages.
i DO wanna work with "the least of these" (whoever they are and whatever they look like).
i DO wanna get married.
i DO wanna adopt kids and NEVER have my own. EVER. EVER. (this will be addressed prior dating my future husband. if he's not on board 100% then we AIN'T gettin hitched). so much so that i wanna get my tubes tied so that i can't have my own kids. and i never wanna be a surrogate mother because i think everyone should just adopt, anyway.
i DO wanna fight mortal combat the enemy and what he's trying to bring about in the United States. i used to wanna go overseas but the more i learn about the US the more i gotta weight in my gut that's telling me there's lots of hurt that needs helping here.
i DO wanna get married in a court house. i don't wanna spend money on things i don't care about. aka weddings. but, please, feel free to send gifts regardless. :)
i DO wanna dump my heart and energy into raising kids that we adopt and i REFUSE to let anyone else raise our kids. praying god will provide a way for me to be a stay at home mom. i won't agree to having kids if i can't be the one to raise them.
i DO wanna do whatever god wants and i WON'T be content with a mundane life. i don't need it to be hip and happenin all the time, but god's NEVER NOT passionate about stuff that's on his heart...so, i plan on him giving me the grace to keep a fire stoked in my gut about the things he cares about. cuz i wanna care about them, too.
and i DO plan on riding really big roller coasters every chance i get.
and it WOULD be awesome if my husband had a passion for stealing children out of brothels. i will drive the escape car. that'd be sweet. i heard somewhere that 90% of prostitutes at one time were in the foster care system.
WHICH brings us full circle. i wanna adopt. THE. END.
stoked.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
procrastination with purpose.
is it stupid to write a blog about things that DO matter as a means of procrastinating studying for a test which ALSO really matters? um. yes. so, i'll keep this short. click the link below to find out what i'm talking about.. goodness, it's stuff like this that makes me REALLY EXCITED to get out of college and maybe work for organizations like this. who knows. i mean, really. but this link strikes a chord in me and even if it doesn't strike anything in you, feel obligated to care anyway. pretty sure jesus cares. prrretty sure that was a guilt trip. sorry. k. but yeah. check it out. spread the word. do it. :)
Action Plan for Stopping Sex Exploitation (legit)
Thursday, October 13, 2011
i keep a list inside a bucket.
learn how to ride a unicycle
run a marathon
learn how to play piano
own a pot belly pig
adopt kids (one of every color)
eat prepared fish (fish that are prepared for what? my consumption. my ATTEMPTED consumption)
cut my hair perrrty short
own and master a longboard
become accomplished at funny video-making
record music
write the music that i'll record (for what purpose? i'm not sure yet)
legit hike in the mountains
play the guitar well
scuba dive
hang glide
parasail
get launched off a giant blow up thing floating in a pond
swim in an ocean
ride crazy good roller coasters
become a wake boarder with real skill. mhmm.
own a wake board
go on a tandem bike ride in a foreign country
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
peeing makes sense.
so, here's the deal. this is why i'm hopeless.
firstly, i feel like my brain is something that needs somewhat of an introduction. my brain has been genetically formed, half, by mom and the other half by dad. dad=smart, logical, handy, fun. mom=smart, handy, crazy fun, spontaneous.
this means, mathematically speaking, that my brain is logical depending on whether or not logical is fun. i'll be responsible when need be but i am by no means a kill joy. i'll jump on bandwagons (as long as they're not headed morally south) and i'll enjoy myself. for instance, i'll accept an invitation from a sleepy roommate to go get chocolate shakes at two in the morning. she suggests we wear side pony-tails. why? who cares. we just do it. and then my friend wants to get something pierced. have i always wanted extra holes in my face? i don't know, i guess i'm not opposed to it. so, where should the piercest put his needle for twenty bucks? ah, who cares, how bout my nose. boom. and why not, right?
then, my parents are both handy so, yes, i'll demand i don't need help changing my car's oil and i'll try my hand as make-up artist on a roommate that couldn't care less but HAS to care less because she's invited to a dance. fun stuff.
and my mom's spontaneous. and i'm a people person. so, i spontaneously book times to hang out with people. so much so sometimes, that i end up at the end of my day and i think to myself..."uh. self? you haven't read your bible yet." and then i decide that, WOW, my priorities suck and i'm incredibly unaccomplished in this life business. also a question to ponder is, HEY, am i busy for god or am i busy for ME? my answer=maybe both.
but i'm sinking, folks. i've got so much on my plate (relatively speaking) that i don't know where to start out every day. i know i've gotta list a mile long but, in that, i get so overwhelmed that i'd rather just sit on my couch and stare at a wall...trying to forget that i've everything to do... and trying to forget that i wouldn't have all this to do if i weren't so spontaneously irresponsible.
next step: call mom and ask her why i'm having so much difficulty growing up. she explains that i'm half her. she's a people person. she likes to be involved in people's lives. and she's constantly gotta reorder and rearrange and reTHINK how she plans her days because she--like me--can easily book herself into a scheduling corner in which she/we/ME barely have time to pee.
and, people, i NEED to pee in a day's time. just sayin.
so, i decide to buy a jumbo calendar and map out my time, down to the minute. and then i tell mom, "who am i kidding. i'll just use it for a week and then i'll drop it." i decide to focus in on fewer people but then i think, "who am i kidding. i'll get bored doing whatever it is i'll be doing by NOT hanging out with people and i'll schedule some hang out of sorts. and BAM. i'm extrovert-gone-crazy-for-the-sake-of-what?-again?"
mom laughs at me.
i say, "i'm hopeless. why even try."
crap. i can't handle this. but i cancel plans and work says "hey, we don't need ya today!" and i'll have all this free time to do ________ with. and then, i stare at that blank because, nope...um...can't figure out what to do. i told mom that if i have a couple hours to myself then i wouldn't know what to do with myself.
"MICAH. RELAX," you might say. i'll have you know that i am the QUEEN of relaxing. when i relax. when i can relax. when i can let go and not care and take a break. but...honestly...i'm incapable at this point and time.
i'm hopeless. sugar, we're goin down. SUCK! i don't wanna go down! intervention...hellooo....jesus, i need HELP.
firstly, i feel like my brain is something that needs somewhat of an introduction. my brain has been genetically formed, half, by mom and the other half by dad. dad=smart, logical, handy, fun. mom=smart, handy, crazy fun, spontaneous.
this means, mathematically speaking, that my brain is logical depending on whether or not logical is fun. i'll be responsible when need be but i am by no means a kill joy. i'll jump on bandwagons (as long as they're not headed morally south) and i'll enjoy myself. for instance, i'll accept an invitation from a sleepy roommate to go get chocolate shakes at two in the morning. she suggests we wear side pony-tails. why? who cares. we just do it. and then my friend wants to get something pierced. have i always wanted extra holes in my face? i don't know, i guess i'm not opposed to it. so, where should the piercest put his needle for twenty bucks? ah, who cares, how bout my nose. boom. and why not, right?
then, my parents are both handy so, yes, i'll demand i don't need help changing my car's oil and i'll try my hand as make-up artist on a roommate that couldn't care less but HAS to care less because she's invited to a dance. fun stuff.
and my mom's spontaneous. and i'm a people person. so, i spontaneously book times to hang out with people. so much so sometimes, that i end up at the end of my day and i think to myself..."uh. self? you haven't read your bible yet." and then i decide that, WOW, my priorities suck and i'm incredibly unaccomplished in this life business. also a question to ponder is, HEY, am i busy for god or am i busy for ME? my answer=maybe both.
but i'm sinking, folks. i've got so much on my plate (relatively speaking) that i don't know where to start out every day. i know i've gotta list a mile long but, in that, i get so overwhelmed that i'd rather just sit on my couch and stare at a wall...trying to forget that i've everything to do... and trying to forget that i wouldn't have all this to do if i weren't so spontaneously irresponsible.
next step: call mom and ask her why i'm having so much difficulty growing up. she explains that i'm half her. she's a people person. she likes to be involved in people's lives. and she's constantly gotta reorder and rearrange and reTHINK how she plans her days because she--like me--can easily book herself into a scheduling corner in which she/we/ME barely have time to pee.
and, people, i NEED to pee in a day's time. just sayin.
so, i decide to buy a jumbo calendar and map out my time, down to the minute. and then i tell mom, "who am i kidding. i'll just use it for a week and then i'll drop it." i decide to focus in on fewer people but then i think, "who am i kidding. i'll get bored doing whatever it is i'll be doing by NOT hanging out with people and i'll schedule some hang out of sorts. and BAM. i'm extrovert-gone-crazy-for-the-sake-of-what?-again?"
mom laughs at me.
i say, "i'm hopeless. why even try."
crap. i can't handle this. but i cancel plans and work says "hey, we don't need ya today!" and i'll have all this free time to do ________ with. and then, i stare at that blank because, nope...um...can't figure out what to do. i told mom that if i have a couple hours to myself then i wouldn't know what to do with myself.
"MICAH. RELAX," you might say. i'll have you know that i am the QUEEN of relaxing. when i relax. when i can relax. when i can let go and not care and take a break. but...honestly...i'm incapable at this point and time.
i'm hopeless. sugar, we're goin down. SUCK! i don't wanna go down! intervention...hellooo....jesus, i need HELP.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
x-men kitty.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
current status.
heyguesswhat!!
lately, i don't like people.
i like getting AWAY.
rants with jesus are frequent.
nothing feels good because nothing's settled.
a rant or emotional RELEASE doesn't feel good
because nothing's settled.
nothing's gonna get better tomorrow.
nothing in life fills up
cute old people, kittens, naps in the grass
they're good temporarily but i just go back and i'm still pissed.
even being profitable doesn't feel good...
it's like worship music is a drug, though..
worship feels REAL good.
proof i wasn't made for this world, eh?
i think it makes it obvious who made me...that the only real relief i get on earth is when i'm gawking at the Father on his throne. the only place i feel good is when i'm on my face before him...or dancing for him...or raising my arms window-washing-fashion......the only experiences that feel good are the ones that put God back on the forefront of my life. believe what you want, but i guarantee this is better.
lately, i don't like people.
i like getting AWAY.
rants with jesus are frequent.
nothing feels good because nothing's settled.
a rant or emotional RELEASE doesn't feel good
because nothing's settled.
nothing's gonna get better tomorrow.
nothing in life fills up
cute old people, kittens, naps in the grass
they're good temporarily but i just go back and i'm still pissed.
even being profitable doesn't feel good...
it's like worship music is a drug, though..
worship feels REAL good.
proof i wasn't made for this world, eh?
i think it makes it obvious who made me...that the only real relief i get on earth is when i'm gawking at the Father on his throne. the only place i feel good is when i'm on my face before him...or dancing for him...or raising my arms window-washing-fashion......the only experiences that feel good are the ones that put God back on the forefront of my life. believe what you want, but i guarantee this is better.
Monday, August 22, 2011
braggin on the big guy.
this guy i know sits down next to me and says this (among other things), "y'know, i really don't know you that well but i'll just say it: i've struggled with depression."
i say, "join the club!"
he says, "it's genetic."
i say, "join the club!"
he says, "but you seem really happy and stuff..."
i say, "jesus."
he says, "yea, jesus points!"
i say, "jesus gets MAJOR points."
:)
jesus heals. if you're not healed yet, don't give up. jesus CAN and WANTS to heal.
i guarantee.
so, yep. just braggin on the big guy. less than three ALL over the place.
i say, "join the club!"
he says, "it's genetic."
i say, "join the club!"
he says, "but you seem really happy and stuff..."
i say, "jesus."
he says, "yea, jesus points!"
i say, "jesus gets MAJOR points."
:)
jesus heals. if you're not healed yet, don't give up. jesus CAN and WANTS to heal.
i guarantee.
so, yep. just braggin on the big guy. less than three ALL over the place.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
liza told me to keep 'em short. i was nauseated, myself.
how to sink into a life that hasn't happened yet. what the crap? to process everything that encompasses what i like and what i wanna do tomorrow and the days after... one thing: i like taking things a day at a time. so, picking a career path today that i'll like tomorrow? that's been kinda difficult, ya see.
i've tested the waters in lots of different areas. i like music but heaven help me (literally..i mean that..) if i'm not given outlets outside of teaching music everyday that allow me to be whoever the heck i wanna be on that given day. that sentence was confusing. moving on.
i'm not the teacher type. maybe because i value anything but routine on a daily basis. basically, i hate being teacher-y. and by teacher-y i mean: responsible, organized, and down to business. i like being those things when i need to be...i like being whatever i need to be to get a current job at hand done. however, lots of people probably think i'm irresponsible for my college messyness...(ask me if i care. youdonnknowme)...and, as a lifestyle, i'm really not organized and i'm also a goof. thus, destroying the 'down to business' category. most times, anyway. take for instance, today with my family at culvers i shot a baby tomato (from my mom's salad) out of my mouth at my sister who was sitting quite far from me. part of my grilled cheese flew out of my mouth at the same time as the tomato. mom picked up the soggy bread with her fork and put it back in my mouth.
i'm not a teacher. i'm the kid sitting in detention. let's be honest.
SO. i switched my major in college. aaand didn't save a dime doing it.. but. y'know. god provides. :)
i've tested the waters in lots of different areas. i like music but heaven help me (literally..i mean that..) if i'm not given outlets outside of teaching music everyday that allow me to be whoever the heck i wanna be on that given day. that sentence was confusing. moving on.
i'm not the teacher type. maybe because i value anything but routine on a daily basis. basically, i hate being teacher-y. and by teacher-y i mean: responsible, organized, and down to business. i like being those things when i need to be...i like being whatever i need to be to get a current job at hand done. however, lots of people probably think i'm irresponsible for my college messyness...(ask me if i care. youdonnknowme)...and, as a lifestyle, i'm really not organized and i'm also a goof. thus, destroying the 'down to business' category. most times, anyway. take for instance, today with my family at culvers i shot a baby tomato (from my mom's salad) out of my mouth at my sister who was sitting quite far from me. part of my grilled cheese flew out of my mouth at the same time as the tomato. mom picked up the soggy bread with her fork and put it back in my mouth.
i'm not a teacher. i'm the kid sitting in detention. let's be honest.
SO. i switched my major in college. aaand didn't save a dime doing it.. but. y'know. god provides. :)
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
fully aware of what assuming makes you and me.
(this is all being written by micah to jesus in a journal. in a restaurant. recently.)
so, i'm at this restaurant and i know this kid sitting a couple booths down. i assume the woman he's sitting with is his mom. he's probably 17 or something. from what i've heard this kid doesn't have a good family life. quite the polar opposite, actually.
i'm getting the idea that his mom wanted to try and spend time with him (maybe..) but he's just sitting there on his phone...talking to someone..about nothing. his supposed mom is sitting right across from him and he's texting when he's not talking to other people. he's not paying any attention to her.
maybe she deserves it. but we all can use some forgiveness every now and then...maybe he's so burned out that, really, the only reason he came to this restaurant with his "mom" was for the food she was most likely going to buy him. the only person SHE'S talking to is the waitress when asked if she wants a refill on her sierra mist. she does.
this kid has no clue. maybe he knows a LOT. more than anybody will give him credit for. he's craving love and his mom's craving a redo. maybe not. maybe she doesn't house any regret. maybe she's a great mom. but she might be terrible. she might be flaky and acting out a bad version of how she was raised except, now, with her own son.
his dad doesn't know what he's missing. i bet his son does. but maybe not, too. maybe his son thinks kids are better off without their parents. but he's got a cavern inside him. both father and son. maybe they're so busy occupying themselves with other things that no one notices the makeshift tarp covering that said cavern. maybe all people see is that they're the hardcore partying type. maybe his dad's a jack. maybe he's stoned. maybe leaving his son's mom was the only thing he thought he could do at the time. i wonder if he regrets that? does he love you, jesus?
does this kid know anything good? does he possess any life skills that will help him discontinue old habits (die hard)? does he know that life BETTER exists? he HAS hope. his life CAN have legit meaning. he CAN know his creator. just seems like everything will be uphill for him, though.
and now mom picks up the phone. she's pissed about work.
maybe they're a happy family. but praying they'll be a saved family. in jesus' name.
Monday, June 27, 2011
i'm me. i promise.
i like 4-wheeling
i like animals
i like being outside.
i like craft hour.
i love paper.
i like figuring out how mechanics work.
i like building things.
i like power tools.
i like knowing how to do all things useful.
i like music.
i like cruising.
i like mudding.
i love mashed potatoes, sweet corn, and chicken.
i like it when my dog sleeps with me.
i love jesus.
i like being fired up about things that matter.
i like being stubborn for the cause of christ.
i like being wet with river water all the time.
i like testing my balance by standing in canoes. and kayaks.
i like taking pictures of cool, pointless, fun stuff.
i like sitting down to read a book, getting impatient and, then, playing outside instead.
i like playing guitar.
i like unannoying conversation. but i'll have annoying conversations if need be. whatever, y'know..
i like peanut butter.
i like big glasses of milk. i think it tastes sweeter when it's warmer.
i like hair dying parties.
i like hanging out with girls.
i like hanging out with guys.
i like hanging out with people.
i love dogs.
i like cheetos, but not too many at once.
i really want a slack line. i'm gon make one.
i love the country.
i mostly really DON'T like GPS'. i love maps.
i love my gramma.
i wanna go fishing.
i love my job. so glad to have it. it's perfect for me.
i love my family. they're the best.
i like my bible, too.
and i really like journals.
summer is awesome.
i like animals
i like being outside.
i like craft hour.
i love paper.
i like figuring out how mechanics work.
i like building things.
i like power tools.
i like knowing how to do all things useful.
i like music.
i like cruising.
i like mudding.
i love mashed potatoes, sweet corn, and chicken.
i like it when my dog sleeps with me.
i love jesus.
i like being fired up about things that matter.
i like being stubborn for the cause of christ.
i like being wet with river water all the time.
i like testing my balance by standing in canoes. and kayaks.
i like taking pictures of cool, pointless, fun stuff.
i like sitting down to read a book, getting impatient and, then, playing outside instead.
i like playing guitar.
i like unannoying conversation. but i'll have annoying conversations if need be. whatever, y'know..
i like peanut butter.
i like big glasses of milk. i think it tastes sweeter when it's warmer.
i like hair dying parties.
i like hanging out with girls.
i like hanging out with guys.
i like hanging out with people.
i love dogs.
i like cheetos, but not too many at once.
i really want a slack line. i'm gon make one.
i love the country.
i mostly really DON'T like GPS'. i love maps.
i love my gramma.
i wanna go fishing.
i love my job. so glad to have it. it's perfect for me.
i love my family. they're the best.
i like my bible, too.
and i really like journals.
summer is awesome.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
a story that's been heard before.
i look at life and try to type out an explanation, but i'll tell all honestly, i have no idea what's going on. my college days might not be the predictable kind that'll be moved on from in four or five years with gobs and gobs of warm fuzzies. who knows. i'm not done yet..
i started at northwestern in orange city. i was grumpy at first. moving in, everyone thought i was an antisocial brat. this is true. BUT ONLY BECAUSE: i don't like change, i hate school, and i don't like groups of people who don't know me but are happy to see me--it reminds me of camp. i hate camp. i've always hated camp. camp doesn't allow for adjusting time or nesting time. after arriving five minutes ago, your presence is wanted at orientation/get-to-know-you games. sick. everyone just leave me alone. i'll talk to you next week. sheesh.
BUT. all turned out well and i found myself on a wing full of females that i enjoyed (and still enjoy) oh-so-much. every dern one of 'em. i swing between thinking god's really nice to have given them to me and, then, feeling bitter that i don't get to BE around them as much anymore. though, i am super dooper thankful to get to visit them frequently as of late.
sometimes i feel insecure. they all continued down the awesome path of friendship that we started off on... but then i left.. and they were awesome to keep me in the loop as the distant friend... but i'll be honest again: i miss that i'm not around for the late nights and the "i don't want to talk to you cuz it's too early but can i still sit by you at breakfast in the caf?" i miss that. i miss the choral of friends that wait a half hour every day in the fern "24 hr space" for various scragglers who don't get out of class til 12:30. we'd eat together. as much as possible. even with all my options, i still ended up eating cereal and french fries just about every day.
i love that they're still around. i love that we're still friends. but i wonder what god's up to. i wonder what was his plan and what was mine. i wonder what he means for me to get out of these next couple years at UNI except more distance within the relationships i cherish most. i just said 'cherish'. i went to a wedding this weekend. gimme a break. i also said 'within'...next it's gonna be 'whom'.. hurl.
but then i'm clamoring in my head and i'm losing faith and i'm trying to reinforce ropes that i fear are fraying. i'll work to strengthen bonds by whatever means and i'll come across AT LEAST to myself as annoying. it's overkill and you're not acting normal anymore. but you're too insecure and afraid to act the REAL normal. but that's all stuff that jesus can help, given the chance.
i don't know why life switched to emmaus. but i'm glad for some folks that befriended me there. so glad.
i don't know why i ended up at UNI. i hated emmaus, that's why. but i don't know what being faithful there looks like. i thought i knew the first time around at northwestern and i had a good idea of what being faithful looked like at emmaus (i mean, faith was all that was ever talked about) but, now, i'm just confused. and i'm overcomplicating. let's just declare that right now. satan's a douche and i know that if i just rest, god'll take over and the holy spirit will hook me up with everything i need to know.
but this path is so jigjagged and scrambled thus far that i wonder if i made a mistake somewhere. i trace back to where i was absolute happiest (but also the most lost, to be fair...) and i land back at northwestern. coveting everyone who got to stay there. and i say to myself that god's got a different plan for me. but sometimes this road seems unnecessarily hard. seems like a lot of other people bent on doing big things for god got to stay at northwestern all their years. so why does the niche i fell into stay behind five hours west? i don't know. and maybe i'm overrating everything about college and atmospheres and maybe i shouldn't care. that'd be best, i think.
but thanks, god, for not just going with it but for leading it. thanks for fast pitches and dull aches sometimes. cuz, seriously, i don't wanna be a wuss and i want to be a tree planted and rooted by streams of living water. psalm one. check that out. for serious, THANK YOU for making life difficult. THANK YOU for not giving me cookie cutter situations with cookie cutter solutions. THANK YOU for the lack of smooth sailing. THANKS for letting me claw you half to death as i freak out in this boat, perfectly floating, that i feel i'm sinking in. thanks for being patient as you loan me perspective. :) you're a good one, you are, and i'm thankful--though still REAL rough around the edges--for whatever experience you're hooking me up with. thanks for situations where i find it difficult to trust...i mean, thanks for them as long as i get BETTER at trusting you in them. i'm still pathetically soft. and rooted pathetically shallow. but i'll take that home improvement project you're offering... go all out. i'm game for reconstruction.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
a lot of nothing. which i like.
i REALLY have nothing to write about which kinda makes me want to mindlessly type out a blog.... and see for myself what's really on this mind...
i had a dream the other night that i guy i knew in high school had a baby boy that died. and then i told another guy in high school about it.... "hey, did you hear? his kid died.." weird. and to that i wake up thinking, i should tell that dreamed father/friend of mine that he should refrain til he's hitched. he might have a son. and then that son might die. amongst other complications.
it's my birthday on saturday. it's also my stinkin awesome friend, Brittany's wedding day. i told her she could sing me happy birthday from the altar. it's really no big deal and it'd be perfectly acceptable and, i think, fitting. i'll probably send them a 'HAPPY ANNIVERSARY' card for the rest of my life...being as how i'll remember it every time it rolls around and all.
i've realized that fuss stresses me out. and sometimes i'm crazy and out of my head so it makes me wonder why iiiiii get stressed out when others appear to be a little less calm than i feel. i don't really know. i think that in my head i use myself as a standard to gauge who's calm and who's flighty. if I'M feeling really chill then someone who tells me to hurry or "QUICK! VACUUM!" or explains to me that they just can't handle something that seems relatively simple to handle in MY current zen-y state.... then, i dub them Flighty. but, you see, if I'M the one who's freaking out over something and i look around and see CHILL people all around me then i'll most likely be irritated with them and everything else in life because THEY aren't feeling the same way i am. as if everyone should feel the exact way that i do all the time.. i don't actually think that... but... i think i think that anyway... i mean, really.
i have driving habits:
1) i can't stand driving behind other vehicles. i'd rather speed for a long time in order to pass them and get ahead of them a ways and THEN slow to normal speed.
2) seven miles over the set speed limit is my usual.
3) i don't usually listen to music or anything while driving. sometimes i do... having constant noise for over twenty minutes tends to stress me out. i also think silence is FAR underrated. i like hearing myself think. sometimes i don't like what i think about. then, i turn music back on... and then i get stressed by the noise and most likely overplayed tune. and then i'll crave silence. and think. and cycle continues..
4) i always speed up to try and run a yellow light. unless it's just impossible.. then, i'm reasonable. i'll stop for cross-traffic.
5) i like my windows down almost all the time. my car doesn't have air conditioning. and then the words 'air conditioning' make me think there's an 'air shampoo' somewhere out there. conditioner...shampoo..body wash... why don't they just call it an air cooler...or something. nevermind. i don't actually think i'm making a valid point.
i have a stack of 'summer reading' books that i have subconsciously admitted to myself that i will never read. probably ever.
i appreciate when people look bad. physically. cuz ya know there are those people who say, "ohmygosh, i look like such a slob today." and then you look them up and down and think how awesome they look and how you wish you could look that good on your bad days but not really because you KNOW she spent a good amount of time matching her sweats before she put them on and is REALLY probably just fishing for compliments... which you, then, tactfully decide NOT to give her. evil laugh. stickin it to the man. WOman. whatever. but, anyway, i like it when people can really just look BAD. like, not even look like THEMSELVES kinda bad. like, hit by a truck messy hair that just looks gross and zits in awkward places that seem to make a constellation you saw once in the night sky... THAT KIND OF BAD. where their outfits look terrible and not even the slightest bit cool or "funky style" looking... just bad. i like the community of people that look that way in front of each other every now and then. but, still. i AM an advocate for looking good. decent. kind of. yes. decent. i suppose.
i had another dream that the wolf escaped from her pen. i work at a nature center. our goal is to keep the wolf INside her pen. even if she is strangely domesticated and friendly to all those holding bacon...
mom made turkey burgers and macaroni tonight. i liked it. a lot.
i'm still a leach when it comes to hovering over what dad's doing. and i don't care if i'm annoying. i am GOING to help him change the oil in the tegeler vehicles whether he likes it or not. and i will make jokes when he's at his pinnacle of irritation so as to send him over the edge. then he'll hit me over the head, side-swipe-wise, and i'll laugh a whole lot. he'll laugh, too. in an 'oh my word, micah, you're so annoying' kind of way. which is my role in life. i love it.
peanut, the dog, thinks she can pee on surfaces other than the grass. she's got another thing comin, i tell ya.
to celebrity magazine authors that gab about people with "OH MY GOSH! CELLULITE!" ...to you i say: get a life. YOU have cellulite and you know it. it means you're normal. people with meat on their bones look GOOD. BEAUTIFUL, might i add. so when she drops a couple dress sizes don't applaud. if she looks good, then fine. but who cares. two minutes later you're gonna be asking her fans to beg her to get to a doctor. she's too thin. for crying out loud, when she was healthy you said she had cellulite. do everyone a favor--slightly or majorly insecure readers who dare to compare THEMSELVES to your ridiculous standards INCLUDED-- and back. off. i feel mother bear awakening inside of me.
that's all. all ramblings are over.
i've eaten way to much gorp while writing this. gorp=m&ms, peanuts, raisins mixed together. period. s'all ya need.
i had a dream the other night that i guy i knew in high school had a baby boy that died. and then i told another guy in high school about it.... "hey, did you hear? his kid died.." weird. and to that i wake up thinking, i should tell that dreamed father/friend of mine that he should refrain til he's hitched. he might have a son. and then that son might die. amongst other complications.
it's my birthday on saturday. it's also my stinkin awesome friend, Brittany's wedding day. i told her she could sing me happy birthday from the altar. it's really no big deal and it'd be perfectly acceptable and, i think, fitting. i'll probably send them a 'HAPPY ANNIVERSARY' card for the rest of my life...being as how i'll remember it every time it rolls around and all.
i've realized that fuss stresses me out. and sometimes i'm crazy and out of my head so it makes me wonder why iiiiii get stressed out when others appear to be a little less calm than i feel. i don't really know. i think that in my head i use myself as a standard to gauge who's calm and who's flighty. if I'M feeling really chill then someone who tells me to hurry or "QUICK! VACUUM!" or explains to me that they just can't handle something that seems relatively simple to handle in MY current zen-y state.... then, i dub them Flighty. but, you see, if I'M the one who's freaking out over something and i look around and see CHILL people all around me then i'll most likely be irritated with them and everything else in life because THEY aren't feeling the same way i am. as if everyone should feel the exact way that i do all the time.. i don't actually think that... but... i think i think that anyway... i mean, really.
i have driving habits:
1) i can't stand driving behind other vehicles. i'd rather speed for a long time in order to pass them and get ahead of them a ways and THEN slow to normal speed.
2) seven miles over the set speed limit is my usual.
3) i don't usually listen to music or anything while driving. sometimes i do... having constant noise for over twenty minutes tends to stress me out. i also think silence is FAR underrated. i like hearing myself think. sometimes i don't like what i think about. then, i turn music back on... and then i get stressed by the noise and most likely overplayed tune. and then i'll crave silence. and think. and cycle continues..
4) i always speed up to try and run a yellow light. unless it's just impossible.. then, i'm reasonable. i'll stop for cross-traffic.
5) i like my windows down almost all the time. my car doesn't have air conditioning. and then the words 'air conditioning' make me think there's an 'air shampoo' somewhere out there. conditioner...shampoo..body wash... why don't they just call it an air cooler...or something. nevermind. i don't actually think i'm making a valid point.
i have a stack of 'summer reading' books that i have subconsciously admitted to myself that i will never read. probably ever.
i appreciate when people look bad. physically. cuz ya know there are those people who say, "ohmygosh, i look like such a slob today." and then you look them up and down and think how awesome they look and how you wish you could look that good on your bad days but not really because you KNOW she spent a good amount of time matching her sweats before she put them on and is REALLY probably just fishing for compliments... which you, then, tactfully decide NOT to give her. evil laugh. stickin it to the man. WOman. whatever. but, anyway, i like it when people can really just look BAD. like, not even look like THEMSELVES kinda bad. like, hit by a truck messy hair that just looks gross and zits in awkward places that seem to make a constellation you saw once in the night sky... THAT KIND OF BAD. where their outfits look terrible and not even the slightest bit cool or "funky style" looking... just bad. i like the community of people that look that way in front of each other every now and then. but, still. i AM an advocate for looking good. decent. kind of. yes. decent. i suppose.
i had another dream that the wolf escaped from her pen. i work at a nature center. our goal is to keep the wolf INside her pen. even if she is strangely domesticated and friendly to all those holding bacon...
mom made turkey burgers and macaroni tonight. i liked it. a lot.
i'm still a leach when it comes to hovering over what dad's doing. and i don't care if i'm annoying. i am GOING to help him change the oil in the tegeler vehicles whether he likes it or not. and i will make jokes when he's at his pinnacle of irritation so as to send him over the edge. then he'll hit me over the head, side-swipe-wise, and i'll laugh a whole lot. he'll laugh, too. in an 'oh my word, micah, you're so annoying' kind of way. which is my role in life. i love it.
peanut, the dog, thinks she can pee on surfaces other than the grass. she's got another thing comin, i tell ya.
to celebrity magazine authors that gab about people with "OH MY GOSH! CELLULITE!" ...to you i say: get a life. YOU have cellulite and you know it. it means you're normal. people with meat on their bones look GOOD. BEAUTIFUL, might i add. so when she drops a couple dress sizes don't applaud. if she looks good, then fine. but who cares. two minutes later you're gonna be asking her fans to beg her to get to a doctor. she's too thin. for crying out loud, when she was healthy you said she had cellulite. do everyone a favor--slightly or majorly insecure readers who dare to compare THEMSELVES to your ridiculous standards INCLUDED-- and back. off. i feel mother bear awakening inside of me.
that's all. all ramblings are over.
i've eaten way to much gorp while writing this. gorp=m&ms, peanuts, raisins mixed together. period. s'all ya need.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
merlin.
i wonder if merlin wanted to be young again. if he had the option if he'd go back and farm his fields again. if he'd take another shot at taming his never-fail demonic kittens. if he'd give me another blanket or tell me not to drive after dark. he was on the verge of unresponsive when i told him i was driving out to orange city tonight... his face scrunched up (he must've known what time it was) and he whispered "noooo"... and from there i will replay--from memory--what merlin woulda said after that.. had he felt better...and it's from memory because i heard the shpeal every time i left for orange city. usually at an odd time of day.
"i don't want you drivin after dark. ya get tired and ya can't see straight. then ya start drivin like the devil was chasin ya and..."
this isn't actually from memory.. but it's similar to what he woulda told me. i'd call him on my way home to talk for a while.. kill some time on that five hour trek. he'd say "are you drivin?" and i'd confirm.. and then he'd say, "girl, i don't like you drivin after dark.." and then i'd ASSUUUURRREE him that i'd pay close attention and i wouldn't drive like the devil was chasin me and i'd keep my eyes peeled for deer and i'd get home safe.. and then i'd pray, "lord, get me home safe.." and then we'd talk for a five minute maximum that i never could get him to talk past. and we'd hang up. he'd see me when i got home.
he gave me a wool blanket with cool fringes one time. i've slept with it just about every night since i left for northwestern three years ago. that's pretty much when me and merlin started being friends. i graduated early from high school and worked full-time at the care center in elkader. he always had bingo on mondays...or wednesdays.. i never can remember.. i never COULD remember (which caused problems..).. bingo was right after lunch.. i'd clean off tables as fast as i could and merlin, instead of waiting around and watching the process, would help me stack plates as high as possible ('possible' entailed how high they could be stacked before gravity won out or how high they could be stacked and still allow for the cart they were sitting on to be moved and navigated around the dining room without toppling over.....which happened to me once. it caused problems..)... merlin and i would talk small talk.. actually, merlin would do most the talking. which, later i gathered, was most often the case in all dimensions of life with merlin. one day i was ranting to merlin about how i was going through WITHDRAWAL! we didn't have any kitties that year. NO BABY KITTIES. he told me he had some. AND that he'd like to get rid of some.
i throw my hands up in the air sometimes. and it's usually when i wave frantically in a 'PICK ME' fashion when i'm volunteering to make my house a home for baby kitties. merlin's baby kitties, in this case.
so, i followed merlin's white ford truck out to his farm one day. i felt kinda shady. i didn't really know this old man and i was following him to his farm out in the country and SOMETHING in my upbringing was red flagging and telling me that this could POSSIBLY not be a good idea. but... i risked it. i prayed jesus would keep me safe. and i drove.
kind of ironic in relation to the prayer i prayed to jesus in that last paragraph is this next part: we ended naming the two kitties Spit and Spat the demon cats. why? BECAUSE WE KEPT THEM IN QUARANTINE FOR ALMOST A WEEEEK IN THE SHOWER WAITING FOR THEM TO CAALLLMMMM DOWN.. (it's a nice technique. most wild cats love it. and then they waltz outta the shower a couple days later changed cats smelling slightly of herbal essences.) anyway. these kittens were different. they were possessed. not really. but, i mean, REALLY--we don't know what got into these kitties the day they were born.. but now i realize how merlin got that scratch on his pinky finger when he wrangled them into their wire pet carrier.
anyway.. that was how merlin and i became friends. then he started coming to all my birthday parties. and he'd come boating with us at the ambro. and we'd eat ice cream. actually, i'd mow half his lawn and then we'd have ice cream and talk for an hour... and THEN i'd finish mowing his lawn because otherwise, i told him, my mom and dad were gonna wonder what happened to me. he'd agree and then offer me a cookie.
i broke into his house once. i told him i did and then told him to check his freezer for evidence. i left him a note in his freezer accompanied by a selection of blue bunny ice cream (payback for the oodles of frozen stuff i'd eaten of his)... merlin felt a lot of things. he missed his wife and knew to the day what day she passed, what day she wasn't herself anymore, what day he took her to the care center, what day they were married, what day they met, the day he left her to serve in the army....and every day in between it was (so richly and thoroughly) implied that he loved her.
and everybody loved him. well, who knows, i guess. but iiii love him. and i love that blanket he gave me. and the teddy bear. bearS.
s'all i got for now.
"i don't want you drivin after dark. ya get tired and ya can't see straight. then ya start drivin like the devil was chasin ya and..."
this isn't actually from memory.. but it's similar to what he woulda told me. i'd call him on my way home to talk for a while.. kill some time on that five hour trek. he'd say "are you drivin?" and i'd confirm.. and then he'd say, "girl, i don't like you drivin after dark.." and then i'd ASSUUUURRREE him that i'd pay close attention and i wouldn't drive like the devil was chasin me and i'd keep my eyes peeled for deer and i'd get home safe.. and then i'd pray, "lord, get me home safe.." and then we'd talk for a five minute maximum that i never could get him to talk past. and we'd hang up. he'd see me when i got home.
he gave me a wool blanket with cool fringes one time. i've slept with it just about every night since i left for northwestern three years ago. that's pretty much when me and merlin started being friends. i graduated early from high school and worked full-time at the care center in elkader. he always had bingo on mondays...or wednesdays.. i never can remember.. i never COULD remember (which caused problems..).. bingo was right after lunch.. i'd clean off tables as fast as i could and merlin, instead of waiting around and watching the process, would help me stack plates as high as possible ('possible' entailed how high they could be stacked before gravity won out or how high they could be stacked and still allow for the cart they were sitting on to be moved and navigated around the dining room without toppling over.....which happened to me once. it caused problems..)... merlin and i would talk small talk.. actually, merlin would do most the talking. which, later i gathered, was most often the case in all dimensions of life with merlin. one day i was ranting to merlin about how i was going through WITHDRAWAL! we didn't have any kitties that year. NO BABY KITTIES. he told me he had some. AND that he'd like to get rid of some.
i throw my hands up in the air sometimes. and it's usually when i wave frantically in a 'PICK ME' fashion when i'm volunteering to make my house a home for baby kitties. merlin's baby kitties, in this case.
so, i followed merlin's white ford truck out to his farm one day. i felt kinda shady. i didn't really know this old man and i was following him to his farm out in the country and SOMETHING in my upbringing was red flagging and telling me that this could POSSIBLY not be a good idea. but... i risked it. i prayed jesus would keep me safe. and i drove.
kind of ironic in relation to the prayer i prayed to jesus in that last paragraph is this next part: we ended naming the two kitties Spit and Spat the demon cats. why? BECAUSE WE KEPT THEM IN QUARANTINE FOR ALMOST A WEEEEK IN THE SHOWER WAITING FOR THEM TO CAALLLMMMM DOWN.. (it's a nice technique. most wild cats love it. and then they waltz outta the shower a couple days later changed cats smelling slightly of herbal essences.) anyway. these kittens were different. they were possessed. not really. but, i mean, REALLY--we don't know what got into these kitties the day they were born.. but now i realize how merlin got that scratch on his pinky finger when he wrangled them into their wire pet carrier.
anyway.. that was how merlin and i became friends. then he started coming to all my birthday parties. and he'd come boating with us at the ambro. and we'd eat ice cream. actually, i'd mow half his lawn and then we'd have ice cream and talk for an hour... and THEN i'd finish mowing his lawn because otherwise, i told him, my mom and dad were gonna wonder what happened to me. he'd agree and then offer me a cookie.
i broke into his house once. i told him i did and then told him to check his freezer for evidence. i left him a note in his freezer accompanied by a selection of blue bunny ice cream (payback for the oodles of frozen stuff i'd eaten of his)... merlin felt a lot of things. he missed his wife and knew to the day what day she passed, what day she wasn't herself anymore, what day he took her to the care center, what day they were married, what day they met, the day he left her to serve in the army....and every day in between it was (so richly and thoroughly) implied that he loved her.
and everybody loved him. well, who knows, i guess. but iiii love him. and i love that blanket he gave me. and the teddy bear. bearS.
s'all i got for now.
Monday, May 9, 2011
i don't know why i keep posting these.
reasons why i doubt god's goodness:
bad diagnosis after bad diagnosis
medication after medication
fail after fail
good choices yeilding no seen results
hard choices yeilding no seen results
sickness after sickness
i don't trust him.
i don't know if i love him.
i'm having a hard time seeing the point in obeying him.
i feel betrayed by him.
i feel left by him.
i'm sick of the 'mystery' of faith. i'm not interested! cut the crap. be real or don't be.
there's a war for my worship going on. it's no mystery to me. it's not something shadowy or foggy that is made perfectly clear once someone sheds light on it. i KNOW it's there. i've KNOWN it's there. i know satan wants me and i know god wants me..but it all feels so anticlimactic. i feel like i see satan sitting at my mental kitchen table or something. just a businessman making an offer. and nothing. i kinda feel like jesus wants me but couldn't make the meeting. he sends a note with a secretary who runs into my kitchen panting and hoping that the note hand-signed by the lord will hold me over. keep me from making a brash decision. and i don't feel an urgency to join a side. but i do feel tired. i do know lies when they enter my head but i've no urgency to crush them. i know i need to read my bible but i've no care to uncover it in the crap of my just-moved-in-ness. and i feel like this: (in the most positive way possible) i feel like i could be like an orc off of lord of the rings... down in the hot, sweaty pit where the orcs pop out of the ground. fierce and ready to kill the instant they get that imprisoning slime off their bodies. i feel like i COULD make the choice to pop out and kill the enemy and say "hey SATAN. THINK FAST! i'm fighting this one. now WATCH ME read my bible." and i'm good with that. like, i'll read my bible before i go to bed. but with the attitude of 'for some reason i'm doing this... but there's nothing in here that'll help me.'
there's a war for my worship.
i am head deep in the snares of the devil. his ploys, his speeches, his business cards, his customer service. i got it. i've heard it. and it's because i've agreed with him. when a bad diagnosis hits my family, sure, i might hear god's tears falling but what help does that DO me? why doesn't god HEAL my family? why don't those people SO JACKED UP ON THE LORD'S ABILITY TO HEAL come and meet MY family? the one god HASN'T HEALED. and i'm not ignorant. i know god's been so good to me and i know god's been so good to my family. and i'll talk myself out of self-pity after ten minutes.. and then it'll still bother me so i'll pendulum right back again and... i want somebody to be mad at god like I'M mad at god. mostly cuz i hate seeing other people so happy at how the lord supernaturally healed their paper cut. or their knee screws evaporated or something when somebody prayed. my response: well, isn't that great and don't i want to KICK YOU IN THE SHINS! both shins! and then don't i want to be bitter and pissed until my knees give out....... and as much as i hate to say...it's true, it's jesus that i feel all around me. i recognize him. i know it's him. and he's got me. and my legs are broke so i can't stand but i'm swinging and i'm hitting my head so hard against his chest again and again because can't he SEE... can't he see? and i get tired and i cry myself to sleep in his arms.. holding me soft.. my last glimpse between my swollen eye lids are bruises on his arms and on his chest. guilt flashes through me but jesus says "sssshhhhhhhhh". and he runs his fingers down from my forehead, manually closing my eyes and my thoughts forced to turn in for the night. i sleep so deep and wake up in optional peace. take it or fight it.
there's a war for my worship.
bad diagnosis after bad diagnosis
medication after medication
fail after fail
good choices yeilding no seen results
hard choices yeilding no seen results
sickness after sickness
i don't trust him.
i don't know if i love him.
i'm having a hard time seeing the point in obeying him.
i feel betrayed by him.
i feel left by him.
i'm sick of the 'mystery' of faith. i'm not interested! cut the crap. be real or don't be.
there's a war for my worship going on. it's no mystery to me. it's not something shadowy or foggy that is made perfectly clear once someone sheds light on it. i KNOW it's there. i've KNOWN it's there. i know satan wants me and i know god wants me..but it all feels so anticlimactic. i feel like i see satan sitting at my mental kitchen table or something. just a businessman making an offer. and nothing. i kinda feel like jesus wants me but couldn't make the meeting. he sends a note with a secretary who runs into my kitchen panting and hoping that the note hand-signed by the lord will hold me over. keep me from making a brash decision. and i don't feel an urgency to join a side. but i do feel tired. i do know lies when they enter my head but i've no urgency to crush them. i know i need to read my bible but i've no care to uncover it in the crap of my just-moved-in-ness. and i feel like this: (in the most positive way possible) i feel like i could be like an orc off of lord of the rings... down in the hot, sweaty pit where the orcs pop out of the ground. fierce and ready to kill the instant they get that imprisoning slime off their bodies. i feel like i COULD make the choice to pop out and kill the enemy and say "hey SATAN. THINK FAST! i'm fighting this one. now WATCH ME read my bible." and i'm good with that. like, i'll read my bible before i go to bed. but with the attitude of 'for some reason i'm doing this... but there's nothing in here that'll help me.'
there's a war for my worship.
i am head deep in the snares of the devil. his ploys, his speeches, his business cards, his customer service. i got it. i've heard it. and it's because i've agreed with him. when a bad diagnosis hits my family, sure, i might hear god's tears falling but what help does that DO me? why doesn't god HEAL my family? why don't those people SO JACKED UP ON THE LORD'S ABILITY TO HEAL come and meet MY family? the one god HASN'T HEALED. and i'm not ignorant. i know god's been so good to me and i know god's been so good to my family. and i'll talk myself out of self-pity after ten minutes.. and then it'll still bother me so i'll pendulum right back again and... i want somebody to be mad at god like I'M mad at god. mostly cuz i hate seeing other people so happy at how the lord supernaturally healed their paper cut. or their knee screws evaporated or something when somebody prayed. my response: well, isn't that great and don't i want to KICK YOU IN THE SHINS! both shins! and then don't i want to be bitter and pissed until my knees give out....... and as much as i hate to say...it's true, it's jesus that i feel all around me. i recognize him. i know it's him. and he's got me. and my legs are broke so i can't stand but i'm swinging and i'm hitting my head so hard against his chest again and again because can't he SEE... can't he see? and i get tired and i cry myself to sleep in his arms.. holding me soft.. my last glimpse between my swollen eye lids are bruises on his arms and on his chest. guilt flashes through me but jesus says "sssshhhhhhhhh". and he runs his fingers down from my forehead, manually closing my eyes and my thoughts forced to turn in for the night. i sleep so deep and wake up in optional peace. take it or fight it.
there's a war for my worship.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
best not to mention cory asbury.
do you know the way you move me?
that's jesus saying that.
he's talking about howwwwwwww MUCH he loves us.
each individual because he treasures us and we're his own
if we let him make us that.
no matter if we accept it we ARE his children
his workmanship is our everyday vehicle of a body that
lives and breathes and carries us everywhere we need to go
but whether or not that's straight into the father's arms is another story.
and i don't complain because i know my savior loves me
but whether or not i feel that love in ushy gushy ways on a daily basis is another issue.
maybe it's not an issue
maybe it's just the way i work.
and i won't assume that i'm poorly wired and inept when it comes to the father's love just because i don't feel it all around me alllll the time.
some christians would tell me that i'm meant to live in the FULLNESS OF CHRIST ALLLLL THE TIME.
and i get it.
i DO.
i get it.
but i also want YOU to understand that my sin and the sin of this world BOGS ME DOWN sometimes.
like my suzuki that had dirt in its carburator. it wouldn't run cuz all my times around the woods made it a little dusty in the insides and spat and sputter because machines don't work like that!
and i don't either.
you saw that coming.
maybe my skepticism takes the best from me
maybe my skepticism keeps my heart from deceiving me because the heart is deceitful above all else
but god's heart's not.
but maybe i'm supposed to feel this distance
maybe i'm proving my faithfulness with the grace god gives and the stubbornness i muster.
maybe the desert is some place everyone else is too wussy to walk through.
maybe i've put up an umbrella and ordered a lemonade from a passing camel who didn't understand what i meant because no one is supposed to MAKE CAMP in the desert, content on STAYING there.
but maybe i don't call the shots on the calendar god goes by.
and maybe i'm right where he wants me.
BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE YOUUUUUUU.
AND I DON'T WANNA TALK LIKE YOU.
AND I DON'T WANNA WORSHIP LIKE YOU.
AND I DON'T WANNA TEAR UP OVER THE SAME THINGS BECAUSE MY HEART'S NOT YOUR HEART (and not that i think we're so inexplicably different... but ME=ME and YOU=YOU)
but there's questions left to be asked. and the questions tire me out and god waits and waits and waits for me to stop talking and stop ignoring and stop pretending like there are no answers to be had.
there are answers to be had.
i'll just have to cancel my lemonade order with that camel and get ready to move. because god DOES have bigger and better in store for the likes of myself. and i'm not fatalistic or pessimistic contrary to popular belief. but sometimes....
sometimes i just get tired.
and sometimes i just need a new paint job.
and sometimes i need a nap.
and sometimes i need out of school.
and sometimes i need to just be.
and play outside for hours and hours and some minutes.
and sometimes i just need a dog. and a kitty. a baby one.
and sometimes i just need to do music without stipulations.
and say "i don't care" to everything that doesn't involve crayons and gramma.
so.
i need a breath.
i need nothing.
god knows what i need.
that's jesus saying that.
he's talking about howwwwwwww MUCH he loves us.
each individual because he treasures us and we're his own
if we let him make us that.
no matter if we accept it we ARE his children
his workmanship is our everyday vehicle of a body that
lives and breathes and carries us everywhere we need to go
but whether or not that's straight into the father's arms is another story.
and i don't complain because i know my savior loves me
but whether or not i feel that love in ushy gushy ways on a daily basis is another issue.
maybe it's not an issue
maybe it's just the way i work.
and i won't assume that i'm poorly wired and inept when it comes to the father's love just because i don't feel it all around me alllll the time.
some christians would tell me that i'm meant to live in the FULLNESS OF CHRIST ALLLLL THE TIME.
and i get it.
i DO.
i get it.
but i also want YOU to understand that my sin and the sin of this world BOGS ME DOWN sometimes.
like my suzuki that had dirt in its carburator. it wouldn't run cuz all my times around the woods made it a little dusty in the insides and spat and sputter because machines don't work like that!
and i don't either.
you saw that coming.
maybe my skepticism takes the best from me
maybe my skepticism keeps my heart from deceiving me because the heart is deceitful above all else
but god's heart's not.
but maybe i'm supposed to feel this distance
maybe i'm proving my faithfulness with the grace god gives and the stubbornness i muster.
maybe the desert is some place everyone else is too wussy to walk through.
maybe i've put up an umbrella and ordered a lemonade from a passing camel who didn't understand what i meant because no one is supposed to MAKE CAMP in the desert, content on STAYING there.
but maybe i don't call the shots on the calendar god goes by.
and maybe i'm right where he wants me.
BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE YOUUUUUUU.
AND I DON'T WANNA TALK LIKE YOU.
AND I DON'T WANNA WORSHIP LIKE YOU.
AND I DON'T WANNA TEAR UP OVER THE SAME THINGS BECAUSE MY HEART'S NOT YOUR HEART (and not that i think we're so inexplicably different... but ME=ME and YOU=YOU)
but there's questions left to be asked. and the questions tire me out and god waits and waits and waits for me to stop talking and stop ignoring and stop pretending like there are no answers to be had.
there are answers to be had.
i'll just have to cancel my lemonade order with that camel and get ready to move. because god DOES have bigger and better in store for the likes of myself. and i'm not fatalistic or pessimistic contrary to popular belief. but sometimes....
sometimes i just get tired.
and sometimes i just need a new paint job.
and sometimes i need a nap.
and sometimes i need out of school.
and sometimes i need to just be.
and play outside for hours and hours and some minutes.
and sometimes i just need a dog. and a kitty. a baby one.
and sometimes i just need to do music without stipulations.
and say "i don't care" to everything that doesn't involve crayons and gramma.
so.
i need a breath.
i need nothing.
god knows what i need.
Friday, April 15, 2011
screw it. screw it ALL.
of all times. seriously. not the kind of "seriously" that's said with a lisp and a rolled eye, hand on hip, with the 'wow' statement that somehow turns into a four-syllable word. ah-woww-uhh. put your best valley girl impression on and then take it right back off because we won't need it from here on out. just wanted you to get the idea of what i'm NOT saying.
i'm talking the "seriously.." that has really lost all humor in the situation. that means it's gone FAR, folks. i found dead cat parts in the woods the other day. perfect face of a cat with nothing else attached to it. i ran after naomi with it hanging from a stick i scavenged. i can LAUGH at lots and lots. LOTS.
and it's not the pissed off, raving, piss-raving mad kind of "seriously.." either. or an impatient kind. it's kinda like those times when i griped at mom for taking forever in a clothing store or something. and when she'd make me stick my foot under the dressing room door so she'd know bad guys hadn't gotten me yet. she'd try on stuff for way longer than my attention/behaving span could tolerate. 4 minutes. and i'd get anxious. and cue same story only in a grocery store. she'd make me keep my hand on the cart. and then i ran away and got lost in the produce and cracker section and she'd be SO PISSED at me. and then one time, back in the clothing store, i ran away from mom again and hid in one of those round clothing racks. i was hiding in there and i could hear her calling my name. and i wanted to stick it out and REALLY hide but i kept getting scerrder and scerrder and eventually i couldn't take it---my butt was on the line. literally. i believe in spanking. shoot me.---so i ran out from the clothing rack. caught half the thing as i tripped out from the rack and the ENTIRE. ENTIRE. rack of clothes collapsed. and THEN.
ya. i was real scerrd. ain't no goin back and ma totally saw that.
so, then, after years of those types of incidents, i learned that i had to wait and stay by mom. and even when i reached my breaking point (8 minutes) i'd STICK IT OUT because otherwise. um. badthingswouldhappen. haha mom's a good mom. taught me everything i know. except for the things gramma taught me. and dad. and bob the dog. whatever. so, it's like you're content with waiting because you know if you hurry yo-self up and out, the consequences are gonna suck. take out the mom-metaphor or analogy, idk...mom-metaphor made an alliteration so i chose that. TAKE it outta that context and put it in the opposite of fake life.
real life.
k. and it's just like.. psh. yeahh... my way sucks. always does. even if i get myself happy as a lark there are bee bee guns with pellets a-flyin and i'm and WORLD'S EAAASSSSSSSSIEEEEESTTTTTT target. every time. least it feels like every time. i'm a poof of feathers (lark feathers...a lark's a bird, right?) whose body has suddenly been obliterated and wasted by a punk-what? kid who just impressed his buddy with his wicked shot and aim. jerk's gotta sight on the thing. cheapshot. but whatever! the shot's good and i was in the way..in the way that i chose to stand in and sing happy ignorant tunes in until i got choked by a fricking metal ball the size of a pea i got stuck up my nose once. little smaller. but no matter.
so. yeah, i'm irritated. and YES, i eat lots of mint chocolate chip ice cream cuz heeyyy heyyyy!!! i bought it one time and still have some left over. SCORE. and i'll be pissed at memories i thought long gone. crazy how that works. not sure it's healthy. anyway. (not really. attention being paid to that..) but for serious. seriously, i don't like this and seriously? it feels old. and seriously? i want jesus to step out of the grocery store and give me a hug and sticker for being such a good girl inside. as if i was.. but still. no condemnation for those who love him. ILOVEHIM!! (waving hand in the air, going "OHH oHH!!! PICK ME!" yes. your mental picture was correct) but anyway. i'm discovering how much i crave affirmation. and when i'm done and hanging for that high five that eternity's keeping for me (what a terrible idea. i want my high five NOW. assuming i'll get one. i haven't been doing anything awesome lately that makes me feel like a good person wracking up those blessings in heaven....but still. can i just have a high five?)...
i want affirmation and i'll run to the world to get it but screech and halt cuz that idea sucks and then i'll go back and sing misty edwards' "my soul longs for you and nothin else will do"...nothin and no one. so stop lookin for luvvv in all the wrong placesssss. not even the love stuff. just in general stuff. maybe i should buy a pack of stickers and start awarding people "good job!" and "you're neat!" instead of getting irritated and frustrated and kinda really mellow when i don't have a welcoming committee applauding me every time i force myself to walk away from the cupboard that holds the peanut butter that has a narrow alley yet to fill in my arteries. self. control. and this isn't about eating right, either. haaaa. it's not about anything. it's just about everything.
and by the way: parents shouldn't give their kids allowances because then when the kid's not affirmed with cash or applause or something cheery and cute, then they won't be gungho for doing what they should when they should JUST because they should.
i found this in conducting a test group of people i never met nor hired to conduct a test study on. basically, i don't know what i'm talking about... but. i think the big man, daddy-guy, God is teaching me that it's okay to do what's right and do what i'm supposed to do just because i need to. and when i pout and stomp my feet and hide in the produce section---he doesn't cave. this guy's got a spine and he's not shaken by my tantrums. "good for him," i'd say if the case in point weren't myself. but whatevs. i am the case in point. and seriously. god means business. even when all i've got to say is screw it.
screw it all.
i'll be honest the only reason i put that last part is because it ties back to my title. i really don't see how that made sense in context. i guess it could make sense. nevermind. i'm done caring about whatever it is i get worked up over when words and stuff don't fit right. i don't even care. kbye.
i'm talking the "seriously.." that has really lost all humor in the situation. that means it's gone FAR, folks. i found dead cat parts in the woods the other day. perfect face of a cat with nothing else attached to it. i ran after naomi with it hanging from a stick i scavenged. i can LAUGH at lots and lots. LOTS.
and it's not the pissed off, raving, piss-raving mad kind of "seriously.." either. or an impatient kind. it's kinda like those times when i griped at mom for taking forever in a clothing store or something. and when she'd make me stick my foot under the dressing room door so she'd know bad guys hadn't gotten me yet. she'd try on stuff for way longer than my attention/behaving span could tolerate. 4 minutes. and i'd get anxious. and cue same story only in a grocery store. she'd make me keep my hand on the cart. and then i ran away and got lost in the produce and cracker section and she'd be SO PISSED at me. and then one time, back in the clothing store, i ran away from mom again and hid in one of those round clothing racks. i was hiding in there and i could hear her calling my name. and i wanted to stick it out and REALLY hide but i kept getting scerrder and scerrder and eventually i couldn't take it---my butt was on the line. literally. i believe in spanking. shoot me.---so i ran out from the clothing rack. caught half the thing as i tripped out from the rack and the ENTIRE. ENTIRE. rack of clothes collapsed. and THEN.
ya. i was real scerrd. ain't no goin back and ma totally saw that.
so, then, after years of those types of incidents, i learned that i had to wait and stay by mom. and even when i reached my breaking point (8 minutes) i'd STICK IT OUT because otherwise. um. badthingswouldhappen. haha mom's a good mom. taught me everything i know. except for the things gramma taught me. and dad. and bob the dog. whatever. so, it's like you're content with waiting because you know if you hurry yo-self up and out, the consequences are gonna suck. take out the mom-metaphor or analogy, idk...mom-metaphor made an alliteration so i chose that. TAKE it outta that context and put it in the opposite of fake life.
real life.
k. and it's just like.. psh. yeahh... my way sucks. always does. even if i get myself happy as a lark there are bee bee guns with pellets a-flyin and i'm and WORLD'S EAAASSSSSSSSIEEEEESTTTTTT target. every time. least it feels like every time. i'm a poof of feathers (lark feathers...a lark's a bird, right?) whose body has suddenly been obliterated and wasted by a punk-what? kid who just impressed his buddy with his wicked shot and aim. jerk's gotta sight on the thing. cheapshot. but whatever! the shot's good and i was in the way..in the way that i chose to stand in and sing happy ignorant tunes in until i got choked by a fricking metal ball the size of a pea i got stuck up my nose once. little smaller. but no matter.
so. yeah, i'm irritated. and YES, i eat lots of mint chocolate chip ice cream cuz heeyyy heyyyy!!! i bought it one time and still have some left over. SCORE. and i'll be pissed at memories i thought long gone. crazy how that works. not sure it's healthy. anyway. (not really. attention being paid to that..) but for serious. seriously, i don't like this and seriously? it feels old. and seriously? i want jesus to step out of the grocery store and give me a hug and sticker for being such a good girl inside. as if i was.. but still. no condemnation for those who love him. ILOVEHIM!! (waving hand in the air, going "OHH oHH!!! PICK ME!" yes. your mental picture was correct) but anyway. i'm discovering how much i crave affirmation. and when i'm done and hanging for that high five that eternity's keeping for me (what a terrible idea. i want my high five NOW. assuming i'll get one. i haven't been doing anything awesome lately that makes me feel like a good person wracking up those blessings in heaven....but still. can i just have a high five?)...
i want affirmation and i'll run to the world to get it but screech and halt cuz that idea sucks and then i'll go back and sing misty edwards' "my soul longs for you and nothin else will do"...nothin and no one. so stop lookin for luvvv in all the wrong placesssss. not even the love stuff. just in general stuff. maybe i should buy a pack of stickers and start awarding people "good job!" and "you're neat!" instead of getting irritated and frustrated and kinda really mellow when i don't have a welcoming committee applauding me every time i force myself to walk away from the cupboard that holds the peanut butter that has a narrow alley yet to fill in my arteries. self. control. and this isn't about eating right, either. haaaa. it's not about anything. it's just about everything.
and by the way: parents shouldn't give their kids allowances because then when the kid's not affirmed with cash or applause or something cheery and cute, then they won't be gungho for doing what they should when they should JUST because they should.
i found this in conducting a test group of people i never met nor hired to conduct a test study on. basically, i don't know what i'm talking about... but. i think the big man, daddy-guy, God is teaching me that it's okay to do what's right and do what i'm supposed to do just because i need to. and when i pout and stomp my feet and hide in the produce section---he doesn't cave. this guy's got a spine and he's not shaken by my tantrums. "good for him," i'd say if the case in point weren't myself. but whatevs. i am the case in point. and seriously. god means business. even when all i've got to say is screw it.
screw it all.
i'll be honest the only reason i put that last part is because it ties back to my title. i really don't see how that made sense in context. i guess it could make sense. nevermind. i'm done caring about whatever it is i get worked up over when words and stuff don't fit right. i don't even care. kbye.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
is it a walk to remember if i'm sitting down?
okay, yes, never be my friend again, yes. i'm okay with that. completely understandable.
i might totally be watching 'a walk to remember' right now.
which means i intentionally TOOK TIME to look it up on the internet for a place i could watch it free. and now, after having watched 72 minutes of movie a blurb popped up saying i had to wait 30 minutes before proceeding to watch the rest of my overly, holy crap, SO overly sappy. and fast-moving, i might add. MOVIE.
first off, i saw bits and pieces of this movie when one of my older sisters was in high school and had friends over to watch it when it first came out.
let me tell you. this movie is painful. one of those where you analyze the situation playing out in the movie, then think of the most embarrassing and/or predictable line the next actor could say and then find yourself with your hand slapped up against your forehead because you can't stand the sentimentality that just happened and the predictability in which it happened. then i look over my shoulder to make sure no one knows i'm watching this movie because oh-my-wow it's so cheesy. and then i proceed to watch intently.
my thoughts thus far: of COURSE she has leukemia. as if mandy moore wasn't playing a damsel in distress already. next: i can't believe he just told her he loved her. oh my word. my hand. it's on my forehead and i LITERALLY feel embarrassed for the guy because it's so awkward! and that's after he danced with her at the fancy shmancy restaurant after she asked him...give him credit, he rejected her offer at first. but then upon being asked, "do you wanna dance?---brace yourself...this is painful..he shakes his head 'no' then she says--.... for ME?" and HE. CAAAAAVES. SICK--i can't believe she just said that. dancing? awesome. but the line? terrible. TERRIBLE. and then he strokes her hair and kisses her and like all logic tells, he says he loves her. PERSONALLY, i would prefer the guy tell me loved me before kissing me. talk about set the situation up for me to feel OBLIGATED to enhance the "moment" by telling what's-his-face that i love him, TOO--oh what a coincidence... but i'm a kill joy. but i mean, for real, what happens if she kisses him because he smells good and is nice to her and then he tells her he LOVES her and then she plays 'hard to get' but confirms that she feels the same way by kissing him back and THEN she wakes up the next day and thinks to herself: "hmm. yeah, i really don't think i like him. shoot. kissed him. liked THAT. but. um. i ain't so sure bout this boy." and then there's hard feelings and blaaaa bla blaaaaa bla blaaaaaa. realities that aren't covered in this movie..
and p.s. i saw the previews for this movie before the actual tape started rolling and...i'm really thinking these last 40 minutes are going to be just as bad as the first 72. oh. but WHY. whyyyyyyyy can't i stop watching this movie?! it's like when me and naomi would watch mary-kate and ashley and those girls fell in love EVERY SINGLE MOVIE. because their lives and relevance on the screen would be nothing without a hot boy from the beach or spain. basically meaning, the guy had to have a tan or an accent. then they were good to go for a summer courtship with the olson twins.
but. i AM going to finish this movie. and laugh about how pathetic it is with whoever will laugh with me later. all the while knowing that deep down inside i love it. because i think it's hilarious. and i just really SHAMEdly LIKE super cheesy movies sometimes.
my gag reflex and peeked interest can interact simultaneously.
my 30 minute wait time is up. SCORE.
i might totally be watching 'a walk to remember' right now.
which means i intentionally TOOK TIME to look it up on the internet for a place i could watch it free. and now, after having watched 72 minutes of movie a blurb popped up saying i had to wait 30 minutes before proceeding to watch the rest of my overly, holy crap, SO overly sappy. and fast-moving, i might add. MOVIE.
first off, i saw bits and pieces of this movie when one of my older sisters was in high school and had friends over to watch it when it first came out.
let me tell you. this movie is painful. one of those where you analyze the situation playing out in the movie, then think of the most embarrassing and/or predictable line the next actor could say and then find yourself with your hand slapped up against your forehead because you can't stand the sentimentality that just happened and the predictability in which it happened. then i look over my shoulder to make sure no one knows i'm watching this movie because oh-my-wow it's so cheesy. and then i proceed to watch intently.
my thoughts thus far: of COURSE she has leukemia. as if mandy moore wasn't playing a damsel in distress already. next: i can't believe he just told her he loved her. oh my word. my hand. it's on my forehead and i LITERALLY feel embarrassed for the guy because it's so awkward! and that's after he danced with her at the fancy shmancy restaurant after she asked him...give him credit, he rejected her offer at first. but then upon being asked, "do you wanna dance?---brace yourself...this is painful..he shakes his head 'no' then she says--.... for ME?" and HE. CAAAAAVES. SICK--i can't believe she just said that. dancing? awesome. but the line? terrible. TERRIBLE. and then he strokes her hair and kisses her and like all logic tells, he says he loves her. PERSONALLY, i would prefer the guy tell me loved me before kissing me. talk about set the situation up for me to feel OBLIGATED to enhance the "moment" by telling what's-his-face that i love him, TOO--oh what a coincidence... but i'm a kill joy. but i mean, for real, what happens if she kisses him because he smells good and is nice to her and then he tells her he LOVES her and then she plays 'hard to get' but confirms that she feels the same way by kissing him back and THEN she wakes up the next day and thinks to herself: "hmm. yeah, i really don't think i like him. shoot. kissed him. liked THAT. but. um. i ain't so sure bout this boy." and then there's hard feelings and blaaaa bla blaaaaa bla blaaaaaa. realities that aren't covered in this movie..
and p.s. i saw the previews for this movie before the actual tape started rolling and...i'm really thinking these last 40 minutes are going to be just as bad as the first 72. oh. but WHY. whyyyyyyyy can't i stop watching this movie?! it's like when me and naomi would watch mary-kate and ashley and those girls fell in love EVERY SINGLE MOVIE. because their lives and relevance on the screen would be nothing without a hot boy from the beach or spain. basically meaning, the guy had to have a tan or an accent. then they were good to go for a summer courtship with the olson twins.
but. i AM going to finish this movie. and laugh about how pathetic it is with whoever will laugh with me later. all the while knowing that deep down inside i love it. because i think it's hilarious. and i just really SHAMEdly LIKE super cheesy movies sometimes.
my gag reflex and peeked interest can interact simultaneously.
my 30 minute wait time is up. SCORE.
Monday, April 4, 2011
mary lied.
interesting train of thought. who can deny? everyone. anyone can deny it. but it's written on the sidewalks of the UNI campus which begs me to believe that people are wondering. i'm sick of questions not getting answered. i'm sick of phrases like "jesus loves you" being written underneath the colored chalk that used to draw hopscotch and four square but now is put to use for attack and question, philosophy and religion, reason and rights: why none and all should have them. chalk is the conduit for freedom on this campus and it SCREAMS, i tell you. literal volume that screeches in the ears of its opposition whose only defense is to muffle the noise with an overlap and a flower. and maybe a smiley face. depending on how bubbly they feel today. jesus loves you!
which is true. but.
the love of jesus isn't really the case in point. whether or not the virgin mary fricken whored around and got knocked up by someone other than the holy spirit IS. it's a question of whether or not people of varying genders are DOING OKAY. it's a question of whether or not the bible is true because I KNOW we all wanna know. and you can prove that the bible is consistent with itself--people do it all the time--but that's not helping necessarily the question of its divinity because THAT'S the seed that's gonna sprout a life changed. prove to me that this life is worth living and don't INSULT me with your weekly prayer meetings, time and place, smiley FACE drawn oh so fourth grade-like when i'm LOOKING for someone to take me on and take the time it'd take to get. to. know. me. and then to see that i want my questions answered. same as everyone else on this campus, city blocks wide that are all-consumed with academia and bills but are left still oozing with questions that mess up their minds like their laundry after they run out of quarters. i tried hard for that analogy.
what i'm saying is that it bothers me that we've got nothing better to say then that. then 'jesus loves me and you do, too". and cue mental picture of satan drawing a needle, shoving it in our brain and injecting novacane so that no thought comes to conclusion and no question is raised higher than the ground its written on. so, i'm sorry all y'all that have legitimate questions. hard questions that might sink a little deeper and effect you a little more than a chalky pink or blue can justify. questions that some christians have stepped over; pissed that people "can even WRITE that and where's my scrub brush and warm water, i'll have this gone in no time."
so. did mary lie? i say no. is that a good question? yes. do i have a paper trail proving i'm right? not off-hand. do i reject the idea that jesus loves gays and bi and trans? no. he totally does. do i question if the church can handle a debate in which the opposing side is INTELLIGENT?
yeah.
which is true. but.
the love of jesus isn't really the case in point. whether or not the virgin mary fricken whored around and got knocked up by someone other than the holy spirit IS. it's a question of whether or not people of varying genders are DOING OKAY. it's a question of whether or not the bible is true because I KNOW we all wanna know. and you can prove that the bible is consistent with itself--people do it all the time--but that's not helping necessarily the question of its divinity because THAT'S the seed that's gonna sprout a life changed. prove to me that this life is worth living and don't INSULT me with your weekly prayer meetings, time and place, smiley FACE drawn oh so fourth grade-like when i'm LOOKING for someone to take me on and take the time it'd take to get. to. know. me. and then to see that i want my questions answered. same as everyone else on this campus, city blocks wide that are all-consumed with academia and bills but are left still oozing with questions that mess up their minds like their laundry after they run out of quarters. i tried hard for that analogy.
what i'm saying is that it bothers me that we've got nothing better to say then that. then 'jesus loves me and you do, too". and cue mental picture of satan drawing a needle, shoving it in our brain and injecting novacane so that no thought comes to conclusion and no question is raised higher than the ground its written on. so, i'm sorry all y'all that have legitimate questions. hard questions that might sink a little deeper and effect you a little more than a chalky pink or blue can justify. questions that some christians have stepped over; pissed that people "can even WRITE that and where's my scrub brush and warm water, i'll have this gone in no time."
so. did mary lie? i say no. is that a good question? yes. do i have a paper trail proving i'm right? not off-hand. do i reject the idea that jesus loves gays and bi and trans? no. he totally does. do i question if the church can handle a debate in which the opposing side is INTELLIGENT?
yeah.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
this one's different, i promise.
there's something like freedom calling my name
and get your grocery bag in the back of the car
this ride's bumpy, not entertainingly
sometimes, more like, drainingly
p.s. the bag is for puking if you get nauseous
but i feel like i'm pretty okay under pressure
depending on the pounds per square inch
i'm referring to actual pressure here
no pun about losing weight because i think girls are way too focused on
losing more and more and more
when really
if we'd all just stop and decide it's okay that we're all not
perfect
and the fact that my ears are more lopsided then something that's really lopsided
doesn't matter
maddening if you think about it.
top models are airbrushed and what are we trying to prove?
again?
remind me cuz sometimes this gets hazy in my mind
but the haze drifts over the road and we're back to the top
that bumpy road that i'll slap the narrator if they call it 'life'
but it's so beautiful
some, iiiiiii, call it lots of other things depending on lots of things
but you know why my life's not working?
cuz i'm under this junk, white t-shirt, grease stains all over because
i can't figure out where each part goes and i'm
OBSESSED
sometimes with the details because sometimes i wanna make a show out of
'woe is me. i haven't figured it out yet. despair. agony!'
bull!
this holy spirit, i feel, is way underworked in my department
cuz i claim OCD before i submit to something i can't see but i HEAR
is great with people.
ask so many questions and stress myself out
KNOWING that i'm good with whatever
but for some REASON i don't care but DO to know
stupid.
satan's totally trying to convince me i'm someone i'm not
totally not
not in my job description
jesus
jesus
he gave me a new one
and um. i quit a long time ago, sooo.
jesus? yeah? ok let's go.
and get your grocery bag in the back of the car
this ride's bumpy, not entertainingly
sometimes, more like, drainingly
p.s. the bag is for puking if you get nauseous
but i feel like i'm pretty okay under pressure
depending on the pounds per square inch
i'm referring to actual pressure here
no pun about losing weight because i think girls are way too focused on
losing more and more and more
when really
if we'd all just stop and decide it's okay that we're all not
perfect
and the fact that my ears are more lopsided then something that's really lopsided
doesn't matter
maddening if you think about it.
top models are airbrushed and what are we trying to prove?
again?
remind me cuz sometimes this gets hazy in my mind
but the haze drifts over the road and we're back to the top
that bumpy road that i'll slap the narrator if they call it 'life'
but it's so beautiful
some, iiiiiii, call it lots of other things depending on lots of things
but you know why my life's not working?
cuz i'm under this junk, white t-shirt, grease stains all over because
i can't figure out where each part goes and i'm
OBSESSED
sometimes with the details because sometimes i wanna make a show out of
'woe is me. i haven't figured it out yet. despair. agony!'
bull!
this holy spirit, i feel, is way underworked in my department
cuz i claim OCD before i submit to something i can't see but i HEAR
is great with people.
ask so many questions and stress myself out
KNOWING that i'm good with whatever
but for some REASON i don't care but DO to know
stupid.
satan's totally trying to convince me i'm someone i'm not
totally not
not in my job description
jesus
jesus
he gave me a new one
and um. i quit a long time ago, sooo.
jesus? yeah? ok let's go.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
burlap itches. please, it's not necessary.
every time satan wants to screw you over and make you want stuff you don't have/aren't supposed to have or whatnot.. read your bible. or do something obviously constructive. i've found letting a thought of discontent stew for more than a second causes it to turn into a stinkin pot of BOILING crap that makes you hate your life.
totally unnecessary.
because down in, you really might be a happy person. you totally might have joy potential just under the surface. and cue this: that'll piss satan off. he'll be taking that away just as soon as possible. so. god knows the desires of your heart. take comfort. uh. satan does, too. isn't that nice. he'll throw a noose around your neck but you'll be the one that hangs yourself. if you love jesus then the only thing satan can do is tempt you. not force you to think or sulk in anything.
so, yep. needin some grace to be taking responsibility for the bunny trails leading nowhere somewhere behind my face. and who knew? i'll be immediately dingy and depressed-feeling after about five minutes of not going all out in jesus' name slamming those thoughts satan plants--or i plant..s-- in my brain. colors really aren't pretty anymore and squirrels and their twitchy-ness isn't cute, and the slightest obligations weigh heavy. and then i feel worth less then WORTHLESS and eventually...impendingly (i don't care if that's not a word)... i'll hang my head low and mope before the throne of the Lord. "o. OH. OHHHHH woe is me. my poor, poor unfortunate soul. so locked up in the demands of this life i call LIFE. so so OH SO much bondage. my face, Lord. Lord, do you see my face? it's scrunching. oh. oh my.. i'm crying. oh. OH. SOMEONE. HOLD ME!"
*crickets*
GAG A FREAKING MAGGOT! not that there aren't some times in life when you just need to be pathetic in front of jesus, but...my WORD, woman. do you not SEE what's happening here! satan gives you a knife and you slit your wrists. and cue: "man, OUCH, god! did you see what that devil just did? where you be!!? did you not SEE that?! man, where ARE you, man?"
i don't know why the back street accent. bear with me.
then i think, "okay. okay, fine. god's not talking to me. take out my ash and sackcloth...knew that burlap was good for somethin...DESPAIR! AGONY!"
*tree frogs*
well... folks.... it's gotten old. and, personally... welp, yeah... it's just gotten real old. satan's got bad plans for me, i've noticed. and when he laid out the blue prints of his plan for my life, i threw up my hands and weaped. like a jerk who is so dense IN the head and so stinkin' like a sheep OR turkey that looks up, mouth open, in a rain storm and DROWNS ITSELF. somethin's ringing a bell over here...almighty god? deliverer? defender... helper...fighter...healer....beat satan DOWNer... yep. i'm missin out on the bigness of my god.
thus. bible reading shall be quite helpful and all the more necessary. 1) for truth-filling and 2) for getting more informed on this 'big god' thing. looking forward to this.
so STOP FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF. it's lame. what a waste.
p.s. read philippians 4.
totally unnecessary.
because down in, you really might be a happy person. you totally might have joy potential just under the surface. and cue this: that'll piss satan off. he'll be taking that away just as soon as possible. so. god knows the desires of your heart. take comfort. uh. satan does, too. isn't that nice. he'll throw a noose around your neck but you'll be the one that hangs yourself. if you love jesus then the only thing satan can do is tempt you. not force you to think or sulk in anything.
so, yep. needin some grace to be taking responsibility for the bunny trails leading nowhere somewhere behind my face. and who knew? i'll be immediately dingy and depressed-feeling after about five minutes of not going all out in jesus' name slamming those thoughts satan plants--or i plant..s-- in my brain. colors really aren't pretty anymore and squirrels and their twitchy-ness isn't cute, and the slightest obligations weigh heavy. and then i feel worth less then WORTHLESS and eventually...impendingly (i don't care if that's not a word)... i'll hang my head low and mope before the throne of the Lord. "o. OH. OHHHHH woe is me. my poor, poor unfortunate soul. so locked up in the demands of this life i call LIFE. so so OH SO much bondage. my face, Lord. Lord, do you see my face? it's scrunching. oh. oh my.. i'm crying. oh. OH. SOMEONE. HOLD ME!"
*crickets*
GAG A FREAKING MAGGOT! not that there aren't some times in life when you just need to be pathetic in front of jesus, but...my WORD, woman. do you not SEE what's happening here! satan gives you a knife and you slit your wrists. and cue: "man, OUCH, god! did you see what that devil just did? where you be!!? did you not SEE that?! man, where ARE you, man?"
i don't know why the back street accent. bear with me.
then i think, "okay. okay, fine. god's not talking to me. take out my ash and sackcloth...knew that burlap was good for somethin...DESPAIR! AGONY!"
*tree frogs*
well... folks.... it's gotten old. and, personally... welp, yeah... it's just gotten real old. satan's got bad plans for me, i've noticed. and when he laid out the blue prints of his plan for my life, i threw up my hands and weaped. like a jerk who is so dense IN the head and so stinkin' like a sheep OR turkey that looks up, mouth open, in a rain storm and DROWNS ITSELF. somethin's ringing a bell over here...almighty god? deliverer? defender... helper...fighter...healer....beat satan DOWNer... yep. i'm missin out on the bigness of my god.
thus. bible reading shall be quite helpful and all the more necessary. 1) for truth-filling and 2) for getting more informed on this 'big god' thing. looking forward to this.
so STOP FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF. it's lame. what a waste.
p.s. read philippians 4.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
a fine time to be paranoid.
so, i hear this talk about not being ashamed of the gospel. and immediately i started thinking "but what about people you cringe for because they make life really unnecessarily awkward..." when you see folks or even catch yourself in a situation where you just think "this is weird. i'm talking about jesus. and it's totally not natural. and it's like rather then meeting the needs of the person in front of me, i'm using the name Jesus just so they KNOW that i'm a christian...because, in the end, this is really about ME. not about them. then they'll think i'm radical. psh. or something."
i don't know. i'd rather be weird and awkward then never say a word about the guy that runs my life (when i'm letting things flow they way they're supposed to go, anyway..).... but then also, self-proclaimed, i'm ASHAMED of the gospel. but i don't know if that's because that's truly my deep down issue-filled heart condition or if it's because i really hate the 'preachy-oblivous-to-context-and-culture' approach. you know? maybe not. not everyone follows my vehicles of thought. alternate route: i don't like typical evangelism. shoving a tract in your neighbor's hand when, really you should be inviting them over for dinner. and, oh how righteous i am--bull CRAP. i miss opportunities RIGHT and LEFT. INTENTIONALLY. i've got a big part of me that's deliberately, deceitfully disobedient to the holy spirit. he tells me to do things--in fact, just last night--and i think, "but god, let's not make things weird, shall we?" as if iiiiiiiiiiiii know something about my culture's way of social interaction that heeeee...doesn't. great, micah...way to make that call.
idiot.
and don't comment on this post saying "deary, don't be so hard on yourself" cuz i'll comment right back and say that i'm fully aware of god's grace and mercy on my weary soul, but i'm also completely tuned in to the fact that I'M AN IDIOT to think that i "just have a certain underSTANDING" that god "JUST doesn't know" cuz, uh, he's just living at such a "higher altitude" than we are on earth and, uh, maaaaaybe he just needs my help to understand that "you know, it's really not NORMAL to stop at that house on my road and tell them i pray for their salvation every time i drive past and tell them god loves them" because maybe they're really not hurting as bad as i KNOW they are and maybe what they need is love through hospitality. so. i'll wait til i've got time to make them cookies. then i'll go may day on them and attach a "spiritual note" to their plate of piled cookies and....BOLT. "cuz, you know, god... that's a better approach."
WHAT?
i'm insane.
and don't say a dang thing in response to that. confirming or objecting. i don't wanna hear it.
am i ashamed? ugh. probably. on most days. other days, when i've got peace flowin like a RIVER in my soul? i'm better at loving people those days. and there's a lot of joy that's apparent by the amount of jokes i make and by the amount i laugh at those jokes and by the length in inches my smile spreads across my face and my eyes'll water, too, cuz they do when i'm excited. and sometimes i'm just excited about life. so. eyes light up. but yeah, hug an old person and pray for opportunities to serve people. score. but i can call it quits at that, sometimes. they'll know we're in it with jesus by our love, right? orrr they'll know we're just lovey people when we love...cuz THOSE exist, too. those folks you evaluate from the sidelines for months WONDERING if they love jesus cuz they sure act like it, only to find out they signed off with the creator a long time ago when their mom died and god gave no explanation. they're done. but they just LOVE.
but. i'm not that person. christ IS behind the way i walk and talk like it ain't no thaaaang. smashmouth. but really.. and i'm not about to make my life excessively difficult AGAIN and crap my pants and have a pre-mid-life-but-just-as-intense CRISIS because i can't figure out the technicalities of my relationship with the LORD. when. REALLY. all that needs to happen is for me to stop freaking out and just, for CRYING OUT LOUD, let. the. holy for a REASON. spirit take reign in my life. been there. done that. the gospel is simple enough a child can understand it. let's not make this complicated. just love jesus and love people with the love jesus gives ya. k. good.
but let's talk about world events, shall we? did you not SEE the news and the 1,000+ people DEAD in japan after a flipping TSUNAMI washed them out. GONE. they're lives done. their hope. GONE. again. GONE. and DONE. and then the one the hit hawaii. and the west coast. and how bout the one that wiped out new orleans. that was a hurricane. same difference. tragedy via ocean. how bout death and destruction that's happening EVERWER. SERIOUSLY. what about that kid today that doesn't know HOW the crap to behave because his mom and gramma act JUST as childish as he does. how's HE gonna grow up? huh? what about the fact that the MEDIA has gone to lengths to tell my generation, "hey, don't get pregnant because, uh, then you'll have a kid if you go that route (since when should there be ROUTES) and then you won't be able to finish college. it'll be hard." says. the bird. on tv. and billboards. because mom and pops. didn't. mention it.
parents that don't raise good parents don't raise good kids and WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TO.. and i promise i love you and i guarantee i'm a freak and fool and i mess up like it's nobody's business but mine. complete with business cards. number and address on the bottom. call me. we'll start a support group. pass out flyers. BUT COME ON. the world's getting worse, right?! noah looks in the mirror and it's near exact reflection. (as in the days of noah so shall it be...somethin somethin..when the end is near...) so! fine time to be paranoid, micah tegeler. i'm nice to myself, i swear i am. but this is important enough. my first AND last name's required. FINE TIME.
hippie love ain't gon save anybody. and peeps should know i'm on with jesus not marijuana. cuz, i beg you, there's a difference.
for the record, i'm not persecuted. bahaha at least to my face. who know what folks talk about. haha but i mean, really, life's good. and then, i can't say that if i were REALLY doin the whole disciple of JC thing right that i'd be a loner without a friend in the world. and that court crown wouldn't be collecting dust under my couch. cuz that's not right, either. i mean, come on. but i wonder if i'm afraid of friction. rex on toy story: i don't like confontation!!! but i LIKE fighting. i really ENJOY throwing people under the bus, honestly. evil laugh and SCORE. won that one. repent. sorry. use my words for something constructive. i'm SORRY, jesus. (that's how it often goes)... danget, i LIKE stating my opinions on a FREQUENT basis but who... CARES... if i win one for creamy verses crunchy on my pb&j. i do. but does the same effort go into my testimony...y'know that one time when jesus saved my scared to DEATH five year old soul from the flaming fires that gave me bad dreams. mom prayed for me and i slept sound that night. PRAISE THE LORD, O, MY SOULLL--I MIGHT START CRYIN RIGHT HERE AND RIGHT NOW cuz that was AMAZING! how precious he is to scoop me up. gross, disgusting and dingy from my thick voluntary inhales of world and lust on a daily basis. my god's an awesome god, y'all. and what i give him back: a willingness to serve but not a willingness to burn. i realize i just talked about fire back there so you might be thinking i'm referring to that with the word 'burn' but i'm not. a willingness to burn with passion for jesus. a willingness to do whatEVER the holy spirit prods toward because i can't STAND my own way of doing things. i'm not dead to self. quite alive, more like. and i can't shake it even though heaven SCREAMS inside of me. refer back to blog titled "everyone needs an untitled"...i think that's the one.. the one about KNOWING there's something inside of you that's meant for a SOMETHING. and it burns inside but sometimes your own tears can put it out. lack of my own movement makes me depressed. i think SOME times it's the reason for me begging and clawing for a WAY OUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT. i get SO INSANE because i WANT to get out and someone PLEASE just tell me my college has gone bankrupt and i have no options and the only thing to my name is a ticket to africa. you're screwed. you have to live there and listen to the holy spirit cuz otherwise you'll get skewered and roasted and eaten. i really don't know where i'm going with this. but i DO know that i'm okay with being passionate and on fire for jesus (again, not referring to the flames that may roast me if i don't listen to the holy spirit) but the mental picture for that is in a foreign country far away from home and comfort.
i have a DANG hard time living that out in iowa. i've got contingencies that the lord isn't interested in. i wanna be who he wants me to be but where iiii see it best playing out. away from my family. and friends. and people i've lived life with. because then i won't be embarrassed. and i'll just send home letters about "OH MY FREAKING WOW, LOOK AT WHAT GOD'S DOING HERE" and then you'll all think i'm legit because there's a picture of me holding a baby with a snotty nose and i'm not wearing any makeup which makes me look rugged and "IN it" with those people that are just needin to hear bout the love of jesus. ....i feel for some reason the innerds of my brain are coming out on paper and i'm thinking to myself "mike, you should stop. this is gettin nasty." but HELLO (together, now, say, "hi") this is the state in my HEART, folks. and i don't even wanna THINK about getting all emotional with you. sick. but this is reality.
so, a fine time to be paranoid, micah. a soul's a soul and the ones that died in japan are just as likely to die HERE. hell's as hot for lost there as it is for lost HERE. except, here you'll get persecuted by the people you KNOW. ouch. copout NOW. QUICK. cuz, ooooooooooouuuch. cut's deepest, i think, when the people that loved you once don't love you anymore. people that called you up since grade school don't call you anymore. cuz you've "changed". and the relatives that kept quiet before now elbow the person next to them when you walk in the room. exchanging glances, understanding. HOPING you don't go at it again. this jesus stuff makes reunions awkward.
but then at least seeds are planted.
at least then there's something for the spirit to water.
at least then your hands are clean.
and god have mercy for the blood that's on mine.
pass me a tissue. cuz now's a fine time to be paranoid.
i don't know. i'd rather be weird and awkward then never say a word about the guy that runs my life (when i'm letting things flow they way they're supposed to go, anyway..).... but then also, self-proclaimed, i'm ASHAMED of the gospel. but i don't know if that's because that's truly my deep down issue-filled heart condition or if it's because i really hate the 'preachy-oblivous-to-context-and-culture' approach. you know? maybe not. not everyone follows my vehicles of thought. alternate route: i don't like typical evangelism. shoving a tract in your neighbor's hand when, really you should be inviting them over for dinner. and, oh how righteous i am--bull CRAP. i miss opportunities RIGHT and LEFT. INTENTIONALLY. i've got a big part of me that's deliberately, deceitfully disobedient to the holy spirit. he tells me to do things--in fact, just last night--and i think, "but god, let's not make things weird, shall we?" as if iiiiiiiiiiiii know something about my culture's way of social interaction that heeeee...doesn't. great, micah...way to make that call.
idiot.
and don't comment on this post saying "deary, don't be so hard on yourself" cuz i'll comment right back and say that i'm fully aware of god's grace and mercy on my weary soul, but i'm also completely tuned in to the fact that I'M AN IDIOT to think that i "just have a certain underSTANDING" that god "JUST doesn't know" cuz, uh, he's just living at such a "higher altitude" than we are on earth and, uh, maaaaaybe he just needs my help to understand that "you know, it's really not NORMAL to stop at that house on my road and tell them i pray for their salvation every time i drive past and tell them god loves them" because maybe they're really not hurting as bad as i KNOW they are and maybe what they need is love through hospitality. so. i'll wait til i've got time to make them cookies. then i'll go may day on them and attach a "spiritual note" to their plate of piled cookies and....BOLT. "cuz, you know, god... that's a better approach."
WHAT?
i'm insane.
and don't say a dang thing in response to that. confirming or objecting. i don't wanna hear it.
am i ashamed? ugh. probably. on most days. other days, when i've got peace flowin like a RIVER in my soul? i'm better at loving people those days. and there's a lot of joy that's apparent by the amount of jokes i make and by the amount i laugh at those jokes and by the length in inches my smile spreads across my face and my eyes'll water, too, cuz they do when i'm excited. and sometimes i'm just excited about life. so. eyes light up. but yeah, hug an old person and pray for opportunities to serve people. score. but i can call it quits at that, sometimes. they'll know we're in it with jesus by our love, right? orrr they'll know we're just lovey people when we love...cuz THOSE exist, too. those folks you evaluate from the sidelines for months WONDERING if they love jesus cuz they sure act like it, only to find out they signed off with the creator a long time ago when their mom died and god gave no explanation. they're done. but they just LOVE.
but. i'm not that person. christ IS behind the way i walk and talk like it ain't no thaaaang. smashmouth. but really.. and i'm not about to make my life excessively difficult AGAIN and crap my pants and have a pre-mid-life-but-just-as-intense CRISIS because i can't figure out the technicalities of my relationship with the LORD. when. REALLY. all that needs to happen is for me to stop freaking out and just, for CRYING OUT LOUD, let. the. holy for a REASON. spirit take reign in my life. been there. done that. the gospel is simple enough a child can understand it. let's not make this complicated. just love jesus and love people with the love jesus gives ya. k. good.
but let's talk about world events, shall we? did you not SEE the news and the 1,000+ people DEAD in japan after a flipping TSUNAMI washed them out. GONE. they're lives done. their hope. GONE. again. GONE. and DONE. and then the one the hit hawaii. and the west coast. and how bout the one that wiped out new orleans. that was a hurricane. same difference. tragedy via ocean. how bout death and destruction that's happening EVERWER. SERIOUSLY. what about that kid today that doesn't know HOW the crap to behave because his mom and gramma act JUST as childish as he does. how's HE gonna grow up? huh? what about the fact that the MEDIA has gone to lengths to tell my generation, "hey, don't get pregnant because, uh, then you'll have a kid if you go that route (since when should there be ROUTES) and then you won't be able to finish college. it'll be hard." says. the bird. on tv. and billboards. because mom and pops. didn't. mention it.
parents that don't raise good parents don't raise good kids and WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TO.. and i promise i love you and i guarantee i'm a freak and fool and i mess up like it's nobody's business but mine. complete with business cards. number and address on the bottom. call me. we'll start a support group. pass out flyers. BUT COME ON. the world's getting worse, right?! noah looks in the mirror and it's near exact reflection. (as in the days of noah so shall it be...somethin somethin..when the end is near...) so! fine time to be paranoid, micah tegeler. i'm nice to myself, i swear i am. but this is important enough. my first AND last name's required. FINE TIME.
hippie love ain't gon save anybody. and peeps should know i'm on with jesus not marijuana. cuz, i beg you, there's a difference.
for the record, i'm not persecuted. bahaha at least to my face. who know what folks talk about. haha but i mean, really, life's good. and then, i can't say that if i were REALLY doin the whole disciple of JC thing right that i'd be a loner without a friend in the world. and that court crown wouldn't be collecting dust under my couch. cuz that's not right, either. i mean, come on. but i wonder if i'm afraid of friction. rex on toy story: i don't like confontation!!! but i LIKE fighting. i really ENJOY throwing people under the bus, honestly. evil laugh and SCORE. won that one. repent. sorry. use my words for something constructive. i'm SORRY, jesus. (that's how it often goes)... danget, i LIKE stating my opinions on a FREQUENT basis but who... CARES... if i win one for creamy verses crunchy on my pb&j. i do. but does the same effort go into my testimony...y'know that one time when jesus saved my scared to DEATH five year old soul from the flaming fires that gave me bad dreams. mom prayed for me and i slept sound that night. PRAISE THE LORD, O, MY SOULLL--I MIGHT START CRYIN RIGHT HERE AND RIGHT NOW cuz that was AMAZING! how precious he is to scoop me up. gross, disgusting and dingy from my thick voluntary inhales of world and lust on a daily basis. my god's an awesome god, y'all. and what i give him back: a willingness to serve but not a willingness to burn. i realize i just talked about fire back there so you might be thinking i'm referring to that with the word 'burn' but i'm not. a willingness to burn with passion for jesus. a willingness to do whatEVER the holy spirit prods toward because i can't STAND my own way of doing things. i'm not dead to self. quite alive, more like. and i can't shake it even though heaven SCREAMS inside of me. refer back to blog titled "everyone needs an untitled"...i think that's the one.. the one about KNOWING there's something inside of you that's meant for a SOMETHING. and it burns inside but sometimes your own tears can put it out. lack of my own movement makes me depressed. i think SOME times it's the reason for me begging and clawing for a WAY OUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT. i get SO INSANE because i WANT to get out and someone PLEASE just tell me my college has gone bankrupt and i have no options and the only thing to my name is a ticket to africa. you're screwed. you have to live there and listen to the holy spirit cuz otherwise you'll get skewered and roasted and eaten. i really don't know where i'm going with this. but i DO know that i'm okay with being passionate and on fire for jesus (again, not referring to the flames that may roast me if i don't listen to the holy spirit) but the mental picture for that is in a foreign country far away from home and comfort.
i have a DANG hard time living that out in iowa. i've got contingencies that the lord isn't interested in. i wanna be who he wants me to be but where iiii see it best playing out. away from my family. and friends. and people i've lived life with. because then i won't be embarrassed. and i'll just send home letters about "OH MY FREAKING WOW, LOOK AT WHAT GOD'S DOING HERE" and then you'll all think i'm legit because there's a picture of me holding a baby with a snotty nose and i'm not wearing any makeup which makes me look rugged and "IN it" with those people that are just needin to hear bout the love of jesus. ....i feel for some reason the innerds of my brain are coming out on paper and i'm thinking to myself "mike, you should stop. this is gettin nasty." but HELLO (together, now, say, "hi") this is the state in my HEART, folks. and i don't even wanna THINK about getting all emotional with you. sick. but this is reality.
so, a fine time to be paranoid, micah. a soul's a soul and the ones that died in japan are just as likely to die HERE. hell's as hot for lost there as it is for lost HERE. except, here you'll get persecuted by the people you KNOW. ouch. copout NOW. QUICK. cuz, ooooooooooouuuch. cut's deepest, i think, when the people that loved you once don't love you anymore. people that called you up since grade school don't call you anymore. cuz you've "changed". and the relatives that kept quiet before now elbow the person next to them when you walk in the room. exchanging glances, understanding. HOPING you don't go at it again. this jesus stuff makes reunions awkward.
but then at least seeds are planted.
at least then there's something for the spirit to water.
at least then your hands are clean.
and god have mercy for the blood that's on mine.
pass me a tissue. cuz now's a fine time to be paranoid.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
i don't want to. you can't make me.
i'm going to speak with boldness
because victory is mine through christ jesus.
writin this in red and everything
but not changing the color of font
cause then it's hard to read
i messed up today
i failed today
i was 'oh THAT girl' today
(negative connotations)
drawing arrows on myself
and the enemy likes
but i won't FILL this journal
with all my 'done wrongs'
more like i'll ask forgiveness
for everything
and i'll be windexed
chalk powder not even floating
a clean slate i am
in the lord
so maker of all things
crowder says your glorious
and so do i
so make me feel victorious
cuz i cry at the sight of blood
mental pictures drip warm
and wring of it
smell of it
cover yourself for your death draws nigh
at the hand of institutional pressure
and deep down sown
needle pricks
INSECURITY
and it's not my imagination
station
some days i wish i were back
living in the light my big sisters cast
free sailing
listening
to that tape tick back
nightloveyousorrythankyou
simplicity and first grade
and WHY is school even
a PART
of this conversation
with myself
i'm alone
yeah, right.
y'all it's my REDEMPTION
that's doin the doodlin nigh
and i've got the holy spirit
LIVIN inside
and i'm grateful
for the incineration of the rags
he uses to
wipe
i hate that word
me
clean
don't run from your ma
when she wipes your mouth clean
tragedy walking out that
apartment loaned
door
lacking perspective
for lack of a more insightful word.
not on sale.
currently
chronically
cats
FREE
(no cats. alliterations go in 3s)
how much longer til i
GET IT.
because victory is mine through christ jesus.
writin this in red and everything
but not changing the color of font
cause then it's hard to read
i messed up today
i failed today
i was 'oh THAT girl' today
(negative connotations)
drawing arrows on myself
and the enemy likes
but i won't FILL this journal
with all my 'done wrongs'
more like i'll ask forgiveness
for everything
and i'll be windexed
chalk powder not even floating
a clean slate i am
in the lord
so maker of all things
crowder says your glorious
and so do i
so make me feel victorious
cuz i cry at the sight of blood
mental pictures drip warm
and wring of it
smell of it
cover yourself for your death draws nigh
at the hand of institutional pressure
and deep down sown
needle pricks
INSECURITY
and it's not my imagination
station
some days i wish i were back
living in the light my big sisters cast
free sailing
listening
to that tape tick back
nightloveyousorrythankyou
simplicity and first grade
and WHY is school even
a PART
of this conversation
with myself
i'm alone
yeah, right.
y'all it's my REDEMPTION
that's doin the doodlin nigh
and i've got the holy spirit
LIVIN inside
and i'm grateful
for the incineration of the rags
he uses to
wipe
i hate that word
me
clean
don't run from your ma
when she wipes your mouth clean
tragedy walking out that
apartment loaned
door
lacking perspective
for lack of a more insightful word.
not on sale.
currently
chronically
cats
FREE
(no cats. alliterations go in 3s)
how much longer til i
GET IT.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
everybody needs an 'untitled'
do you ever just wanna know?
the layout in the creator's mind
when he decided your body was
worth it.
the form you are and the color of your hair
depending on the times you dye it
do you everrr JUST wanna know!?
the point is not my homework
and i know it's cool to recognize a
perfect fifth
or a four chord or
something
but i KNOW this isn't it
so, do you ever wanna KNOW?
what's locked up inside you
not meant to be behind
that bolted lock
guard dogs that don't exist
except in the form of a demonic
panic that can't let up
to the supernatural
that's
bigger.
a piercing bigger that lights up stadiums
when he opens the freezer
in the middle of the night
just jesus.
cruisin the merchandise.
i fully believe the lord eats ice cream.
when i'm sleeping he's not
weird
he talks when i'm conscious in him
but dead to this world
i only wish that was why i chronically do NOT wake up
on time
according to who?
yes
the real world tocks
and the real world ticks in the back of my neck
makes my eyes twitch if i'm exposed to
too much at once
i KNOW i'm supposed to exist in this world.
duh.
but i gotta wonder what my LORDDD wants for me
what if all i do is paint with water
making wet streaks that dry and fade
and are rarely enjoyable
except when it's 100 degrees outside.
i wanna see the
COLOR
i wanna feel the pull
to the right and the left
the swirls
the up and
the kitty corner
down to the left side
cockeyed
and beautiful.
i wanna live in that masterpiece
cuz a master he is
so let's see that work flowwww
do ya ever JUST
WANNA
KNOW
people!
can you feel that burning inside you
that you SWEAR
is NOT
a rash
is NOT
acid reflux
is NOT
a bad taco
(you might wanna get that checked)
a burrrrrn (where's shift+F7, i need a different adjective)
that makes your eyes water
with salt you
wonder
if it could flavor this earth
tears that gush from the simple KNOWING
you're right where he wants ya.
it couldn't feel better.
i don't WANT porn.
i don't WANT sex.
cuz this ring's not bling
cuz it don't exist
yet
and it's okay
not CAPS
because i don't feel that
'okay' word
as passionate as i do the others that
hit this screen more boldly then the rest.
but then my eyes water up and assist in
the removal of my makeup.
because i JUST
KNOW
that this burning inside that can
make me cry over spilled milk
or water
or nothing spilled, really
i know it means something.
something
something
something
suuuuuummmmmmmthiiiiiiiiiiiiingggggggggg
and maybe the answer's more clear then i think
but who can stand the time it takes
to get all emotional
and then sniff the snot
and go back to music theory
because this work ain't gon do itsayelf
and how
1
2
3
reasons why failing would
NOT
be cool.
but i DO just wanna cry
and i DO want to be held by the
LORD
MOST tightly
and MOST REAL. LY.
and i wanna know what he smells like, dangit.
i wanna know if he's got a five o'clock shadow
that he rubs on my face
just like dad does
to make me giggle and lighten the mood
and raise the dark that makes
my life
excessively
dramatic.
when the beauty is just beauty
and joy is just joy
and you get it cuz you do
and don't even THINK about thinking twice
cuz a child won't
and i've got a pretty simply mind
tending to overthink and overfreak
ressssssstttttttttttt
three people judging my last speech in oral comm told me to
brrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeatheeeeeeeeeee
i'm good at that when i am cuz i am
but then i get confused
and i lose it
and my heart's not light
and THAT BURDEN, jesus?!
IS NOT light. cuz yours is unattainable
in a mind that can't fathom faith
sometimes
sometimes
sometime.
if you fall and you call and you will find me
time after time
(those are the lyrics, right?)
jesus just sang me a sssooooooooonggggg.
not really one that hit me where
i need it... more like, just to fit with the pattern.
ha.
or something.
only said once this time.
after time.
who even needs a legitimate ending.
the layout in the creator's mind
when he decided your body was
worth it.
the form you are and the color of your hair
depending on the times you dye it
do you everrr JUST wanna know!?
the point is not my homework
and i know it's cool to recognize a
perfect fifth
or a four chord or
something
but i KNOW this isn't it
so, do you ever wanna KNOW?
what's locked up inside you
not meant to be behind
that bolted lock
guard dogs that don't exist
except in the form of a demonic
panic that can't let up
to the supernatural
that's
bigger.
a piercing bigger that lights up stadiums
when he opens the freezer
in the middle of the night
just jesus.
cruisin the merchandise.
i fully believe the lord eats ice cream.
when i'm sleeping he's not
weird
he talks when i'm conscious in him
but dead to this world
i only wish that was why i chronically do NOT wake up
on time
according to who?
yes
the real world tocks
and the real world ticks in the back of my neck
makes my eyes twitch if i'm exposed to
too much at once
i KNOW i'm supposed to exist in this world.
duh.
but i gotta wonder what my LORDDD wants for me
what if all i do is paint with water
making wet streaks that dry and fade
and are rarely enjoyable
except when it's 100 degrees outside.
i wanna see the
COLOR
i wanna feel the pull
to the right and the left
the swirls
the up and
the kitty corner
down to the left side
cockeyed
and beautiful.
i wanna live in that masterpiece
cuz a master he is
so let's see that work flowwww
do ya ever JUST
WANNA
KNOW
people!
can you feel that burning inside you
that you SWEAR
is NOT
a rash
is NOT
acid reflux
is NOT
a bad taco
(you might wanna get that checked)
a burrrrrn (where's shift+F7, i need a different adjective)
that makes your eyes water
with salt you
wonder
if it could flavor this earth
tears that gush from the simple KNOWING
you're right where he wants ya.
it couldn't feel better.
i don't WANT porn.
i don't WANT sex.
cuz this ring's not bling
cuz it don't exist
yet
and it's okay
not CAPS
because i don't feel that
'okay' word
as passionate as i do the others that
hit this screen more boldly then the rest.
but then my eyes water up and assist in
the removal of my makeup.
because i JUST
KNOW
that this burning inside that can
make me cry over spilled milk
or water
or nothing spilled, really
i know it means something.
something
something
something
suuuuuummmmmmmthiiiiiiiiiiiiingggggggggg
and maybe the answer's more clear then i think
but who can stand the time it takes
to get all emotional
and then sniff the snot
and go back to music theory
because this work ain't gon do itsayelf
and how
1
2
3
reasons why failing would
NOT
be cool.
but i DO just wanna cry
and i DO want to be held by the
LORD
MOST tightly
and MOST REAL. LY.
and i wanna know what he smells like, dangit.
i wanna know if he's got a five o'clock shadow
that he rubs on my face
just like dad does
to make me giggle and lighten the mood
and raise the dark that makes
my life
excessively
dramatic.
when the beauty is just beauty
and joy is just joy
and you get it cuz you do
and don't even THINK about thinking twice
cuz a child won't
and i've got a pretty simply mind
tending to overthink and overfreak
ressssssstttttttttttt
three people judging my last speech in oral comm told me to
brrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeatheeeeeeeeeee
i'm good at that when i am cuz i am
but then i get confused
and i lose it
and my heart's not light
and THAT BURDEN, jesus?!
IS NOT light. cuz yours is unattainable
in a mind that can't fathom faith
sometimes
sometimes
sometime.
if you fall and you call and you will find me
time after time
(those are the lyrics, right?)
jesus just sang me a sssooooooooonggggg.
not really one that hit me where
i need it... more like, just to fit with the pattern.
ha.
or something.
only said once this time.
after time.
who even needs a legitimate ending.
Monday, February 28, 2011
WHY do i feel like i'm writing a superchic[k] song...
ya get alllllllllllll insecure
and feel like everything
you're about
could be bad.
and THEN you really could use some reminders
quick.
someone tell me what my favorite color is
and then
quicker.
someone tell me i like dogs
and it's
OKAY
that i can't sit still for more than 30 minutes.
unless i'm sleeping.
but that doesn't count cuz i haven't been sleeping much lately either.
ya just want CLUES to get yo-self back on track.
and runnin smooooth.
family's good for that.
the friends that you actually like, too.
(y'know..the friends that know you and don't think you're funny all the time because they're used to your nonsense. i love it when they don't laugh. really makes me feel like we got somethin.)
OR i'll even settle for a walk down main street.
elk
a
darrrrrr
...
actually it's pronounced
el-kayy-derrr.
but, yo, none uh those are present on this campus.
so.
god.
this one's all yers.
and feel like everything
you're about
could be bad.
and THEN you really could use some reminders
quick.
someone tell me what my favorite color is
and then
quicker.
someone tell me i like dogs
and it's
OKAY
that i can't sit still for more than 30 minutes.
unless i'm sleeping.
but that doesn't count cuz i haven't been sleeping much lately either.
ya just want CLUES to get yo-self back on track.
and runnin smooooth.
family's good for that.
the friends that you actually like, too.
(y'know..the friends that know you and don't think you're funny all the time because they're used to your nonsense. i love it when they don't laugh. really makes me feel like we got somethin.)
OR i'll even settle for a walk down main street.
elk
a
darrrrrr
...
actually it's pronounced
el-kayy-derrr.
but, yo, none uh those are present on this campus.
so.
god.
this one's all yers.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
anticipation. and praise the lord, no antihistamine.
summer list.
1. learn how to kayak. dear, jade. you're on duty.
2. get my fishing license.
3. stock my new tacklebox. dear, gramma. hook me up.
4. pun SO HAPPILY intended.
5. find out why the suzuki doesn't work. yo. dad.
6. then ride it.
7. go water skiing. MOM. i need help.
8. work 8 to 4:30, monday through friday. the literal joy of lawn mowing and animal care.
9. so excited, that gets two spots.
10. baby kitties.
11. new puppy. bob is being replaced. (toy story reference?)
12. summer dresses!
13. t-shirts and shorts and a full layer of animal hair and dirt from digging for baby kitties under stuff in the shop.
14. take naps in real grass. smelling it all the time.
15. remove ticks acquired from laying on the ground.
16. haha 90% of those reading this just stopped.
17. praying for immunity from limes disease.
18. learn how to cook a fish. even though i don't think i like fish.at all. sick.
19. learn how to fillet a fish. although, i think it's 'bout like peelin a tomata. like they do on those infomercials to demonstrate how sharp their knives are.
20. peanut.
21. haha peanut. i miss peanut.
1. learn how to kayak. dear, jade. you're on duty.
2. get my fishing license.
3. stock my new tacklebox. dear, gramma. hook me up.
4. pun SO HAPPILY intended.
5. find out why the suzuki doesn't work. yo. dad.
6. then ride it.
7. go water skiing. MOM. i need help.
8. work 8 to 4:30, monday through friday. the literal joy of lawn mowing and animal care.
9. so excited, that gets two spots.
10. baby kitties.
11. new puppy. bob is being replaced. (toy story reference?)
12. summer dresses!
13. t-shirts and shorts and a full layer of animal hair and dirt from digging for baby kitties under stuff in the shop.
14. take naps in real grass. smelling it all the time.
15. remove ticks acquired from laying on the ground.
16. haha 90% of those reading this just stopped.
17. praying for immunity from limes disease.
18. learn how to cook a fish. even though i don't think i like fish.at all. sick.
19. learn how to fillet a fish. although, i think it's 'bout like peelin a tomata. like they do on those infomercials to demonstrate how sharp their knives are.
20. peanut.
21. haha peanut. i miss peanut.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
it's been six years.
my papa died six years ago. whenever we'd go hang out with gramma and papa we mostly hung out with gramma. we went down to the creek (criik) with her and she'd bait our hooks and take our fish off. then nome and lize would drive the three wheeler though cow pies, stop with the front wheel directly IN the cow pie...and then with their little arms yank the handlebars right and then left and back a hundred times to make sure the crap was good and dug in. wheels covered. i was usually riding in the back on a blanket holding the 'teeda'... i don't know if the rest of the world calls them that... teedas are the orange flags on a metal rod that you stick in the back of your moving vehicle that isn't a car or tractor... i'd wave it in the air like gramma told me my cousin jesse did and yell "teedaaa teeedaaa teedaaaa" just like she told me my cousin jesse did.
satisfied and laughing and smiling way too much to NOT look like we'd been up to something, we all (me, lize, nome, and gramma) would get off the three wheeler, dump out our five gallon bucket of fish on the grass (for the cats to eat at their convenience) and walk away. into the house. papa'd go outside. he'd HOOP and HOLLAR semi-jokingly at the, well, shitty state of the three wheeler. we'd all laugh. then, he'd get the hose and start to work, spraying the three wheeler's tires and the tire wells where crap was caked. but that was only sometimes. other times, after we covered the three wheeler in crap and before we got offfff the three wheeler, we'd floor it? how do floor a three wheeler? the gas is on the handle bar... ahem. we'd drop the right wrist while firmly gripping the..right handle bar (and left one for that matter)...whatever. anyone know what i'm trying to describe? we'd give the thing GAS and do donuts around gramma and papa's big drive way so that the crap would fly off the wheels and make the driveway look like a pig lot. or something. anyway, it made papa mad. it wasn't just a lane...it was a big enough gravel lot that you could navigate big machinery easily and not whack the back side of the house. perfect for a wild craze on the three wheeler. one time mom ran papa's tractor through the machine shed door. good story. she was little. WHY was she driving a tractor? joe. (he's mentioned later)..
we'd all settle down. we'd make a party plate. liza's job. eventually all of us got in a bath. and then we'd watch tv. gramma'd peel and slice apples in her lap on the family room comfy chair and pass out the pieces of apple. papa'd go out to the kitchen and get himself a cookie and milk. throughout the course of the night at sporadic times, papa'd also make the most IRRITATING noises--literally like a fog horn (only fluctuating pitch lots more)--"waaaaaaaaaaaaaaawaaaaaaaaaaawuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh" we'd all yell, genuinely ANGRY, "PAPA! SHUT! UP!" haha he never did the first few times we'd ask. actually..i'm pretty sure our asking him to stop had nothing to do with his stopping. he'd just quit whenever he was good and ready to.
papa'd always tell us he was proud of us. even though me, a nine year old, hadn't really done anything with my life to have received his praise. but. he gave it anyway. to all of us. he also told us that if we didn't pick on him he wouldn't know if we loved him.
he knew we loved him.
i can't really brag on my papa enough. yeah, he had his happy hour and smoked like a chimney but he was the best papa ever. really was a worthless mechanic but was good in wood working. he was a really decent pool player and he'd MAKE SURE we were all fair warned not to rip the green fuzzy fabric that coated the slate pool top. although, he never really came down to make sure we behaved ourselves in the basement (where the pool table was).. gramma wouldn't let him. she told us he was too good and that was why he couldn't play with us. he'd beat us in a second--ONE second--flat and we wouldn't be able to have any fun. so, we didn't let him play. i feel bad about that now. i wish he would've played us and i wish we would've gotten schooled. i would've put that in my 'best of memories' bank. ah well.
anyway. i miss my papa. p.s. hugging my uncle is scary similar to what hugging my papa felt like. they smell the same, they feel the same, they've got the same pack of camels in their breast pocket...like father, like son. glad for that. not the smoking part. i vote he should quit.
i miss my papa. what a guy. he loved my dad and he loved my mom. he loved my gramma lots too. ornery as she is. but he was stubborn to match. power couple.
i think that's it.
satisfied and laughing and smiling way too much to NOT look like we'd been up to something, we all (me, lize, nome, and gramma) would get off the three wheeler, dump out our five gallon bucket of fish on the grass (for the cats to eat at their convenience) and walk away. into the house. papa'd go outside. he'd HOOP and HOLLAR semi-jokingly at the, well, shitty state of the three wheeler. we'd all laugh. then, he'd get the hose and start to work, spraying the three wheeler's tires and the tire wells where crap was caked. but that was only sometimes. other times, after we covered the three wheeler in crap and before we got offfff the three wheeler, we'd floor it? how do floor a three wheeler? the gas is on the handle bar... ahem. we'd drop the right wrist while firmly gripping the..right handle bar (and left one for that matter)...whatever. anyone know what i'm trying to describe? we'd give the thing GAS and do donuts around gramma and papa's big drive way so that the crap would fly off the wheels and make the driveway look like a pig lot. or something. anyway, it made papa mad. it wasn't just a lane...it was a big enough gravel lot that you could navigate big machinery easily and not whack the back side of the house. perfect for a wild craze on the three wheeler. one time mom ran papa's tractor through the machine shed door. good story. she was little. WHY was she driving a tractor? joe. (he's mentioned later)..
we'd all settle down. we'd make a party plate. liza's job. eventually all of us got in a bath. and then we'd watch tv. gramma'd peel and slice apples in her lap on the family room comfy chair and pass out the pieces of apple. papa'd go out to the kitchen and get himself a cookie and milk. throughout the course of the night at sporadic times, papa'd also make the most IRRITATING noises--literally like a fog horn (only fluctuating pitch lots more)--"waaaaaaaaaaaaaaawaaaaaaaaaaawuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh" we'd all yell, genuinely ANGRY, "PAPA! SHUT! UP!" haha he never did the first few times we'd ask. actually..i'm pretty sure our asking him to stop had nothing to do with his stopping. he'd just quit whenever he was good and ready to.
papa'd always tell us he was proud of us. even though me, a nine year old, hadn't really done anything with my life to have received his praise. but. he gave it anyway. to all of us. he also told us that if we didn't pick on him he wouldn't know if we loved him.
he knew we loved him.
i can't really brag on my papa enough. yeah, he had his happy hour and smoked like a chimney but he was the best papa ever. really was a worthless mechanic but was good in wood working. he was a really decent pool player and he'd MAKE SURE we were all fair warned not to rip the green fuzzy fabric that coated the slate pool top. although, he never really came down to make sure we behaved ourselves in the basement (where the pool table was).. gramma wouldn't let him. she told us he was too good and that was why he couldn't play with us. he'd beat us in a second--ONE second--flat and we wouldn't be able to have any fun. so, we didn't let him play. i feel bad about that now. i wish he would've played us and i wish we would've gotten schooled. i would've put that in my 'best of memories' bank. ah well.
anyway. i miss my papa. p.s. hugging my uncle is scary similar to what hugging my papa felt like. they smell the same, they feel the same, they've got the same pack of camels in their breast pocket...like father, like son. glad for that. not the smoking part. i vote he should quit.
i miss my papa. what a guy. he loved my dad and he loved my mom. he loved my gramma lots too. ornery as she is. but he was stubborn to match. power couple.
i think that's it.
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