1. Genuine and caring support.
2. My own room to grow and figure out who I am through it all.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
I Can't Help But Blog
That's it. My thoughts run wild all the time. From class to walking down the street to solitude to the caffeteria to everywhere. My mind has become a flow of thoughts that are begging to be let out into words.
"I want apple pie," is the first. I have a bottle of ground cinnamon opened next to me. I sniff it sometimes in order to satiate my desire for sweets, like chocolate. It works. But I still imagine apple pie, the tasty crust and the scrumptuous innards.
Second, "eggs." Mixed eggs cooked scrambled. My grandparent's food is the best. They make lemon chicken and noodles and have crab and rice cake prepared for us, I remember on church weekends or SDC nights. They make immpeccable dishes - like none other and there will be no other like them and their dishes.
Third, "Is college really all this?" They say that you have the most and your last free time in college. Why is art college so difficult sometimes, long studio hours, relentless creativity... And I see breaks like fall, thanksgiving, winter, spring as the highlights or look-to parts of my semester, the light at the end of the tunnel, the hope for a satiating rest and time of tranquility and pleasant and earnest time spent with my family. My thinking is nothing special concerning this, but words and memories can puff up sometimes. For example when we move on, we either leave in our memories things we desire to see in them or simply we see the essence of the memory where details and likely the argumentative flaws and pricks really fade into the abyss.
In the class, I've mentioned before, Creativity and Genius, taught by Michael Sizer, I've picked up the book "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man," by James Joyce, and "The Creating Brain, the Neuroscience of Genius," by Nancy C. Andreasen M.D.,Ph.D. What I've read in these books is life-changing. I finally am released from the notion that I am really alone in my problems when really, I am what Andreasen describes a creative person, and not necessarily in terms of the adjective, but in terms of the noun. I am a creative person wired differently from the rest of society, but I am not the only creative person, which is the more liberating idea.
Andrean describes the creative person as one who is open, adventurous, possessing an intense curiosity, sensitive, and therefore likely to percieve the world and its situations with greater intensity. That explains why when I was young and I observed my family and got into arguments with them, I was speaking about a point of view ungraspable to them and rebutting became a useless endeavor because I was always criticized and shut down. I also saw a reality that could not be articulated at the time, which prompted me to always turn to God for help and perseverence because He was the only one who understood me thoroughly and truthfully. Consequently, the incessant flow of thoughts in my mind barricaded by a fear of being shot down again if spoken of swelled into a spot of bitterness and resentment. I could only vent to God, but He, too, seemed to provoke some psychological disorder in me, because He is literally invisible and the human was made to seek out a community, except I became an alien to that.
Now, I sit here looking back and seeing the struggle of a creative person through the chains and restrictive manners of societal conventions. I was a person with insight trying to break free, find a place of nurture. And here I am in art school, the best art school in the nation, MICA, and I could not have asked for a better community of creative people who are with me in this respect. I am where I am supposed to be and I am thankful that God has led me this far. I fit, and that's all despite my mere struggle to define my career path by facing the indimidating vastness of college choices like majors and everything else considered. But here I am, a declared Graphic Design major with a possible concentration in Video or Photography. I feel like I'm here for a reason, I'm not supposed to be anywhere else. I was wired and molded to become who I am today, someone I am sympathetic towards and proud of for making it this far.
I can't fully imagine what other creative people had to go through, the kind of trouble, rebellion, and especially the stakes they took to get here to MICA, whether it was leaving home with or without their parents or family's consent or approval.
I know my college years won't last forever. It's an experience that passes us by just like the quickening of everything physical transformed into a vaporized image in our brain somewhere, we call memory. Everything is fleeting, Time is never still. And that's why perhaps I grab on tighter to God who is everlasting, true, sovereign, an undefiable force that maneuvers at the deepest level of every living thing, like a current.
I am petrified, awed, humbled, completely relieved every time God testifies to his faithfulness. When I arrive to this conclusion, I understand that I've been here before, but I ask myself how possibly easy it was for me to slip into the curve of a loop only to arrive at the same destination. Blindness. Complete and utter blindness - towards God's love, because we lose trust in God, we lack faith. Faith that defeats fear and nourishes courage. Faith that is covicting and forward marching. Faith that is gracious and self-sacrificing.
I admit. Fears have been getting the better of me these past few weeks. Do I still fear sin? Do I fear provoking lust in men? Do I fear my own sin? Do I fear the revealing of my sins? Sin makes me like a blown up glass, I am empty inside but my shell is as fragile as cracking at the mere notion of criticism. Instead, I shell up, barricade my heart and everything about my face shows that I am closed and bullet-proof.
This must be my hearts natural response when it knows it's been hurt many times before this way. But my heart must have suffocated in order for this reaction to stem from the subconcious. I lay inert in bed, lying on my side, eyes wide open staring sideways at a blank wall. My arms bent, tugged closely to my chest, and knees are bent, brought up to my arms for warmth and comfort. I stare blankly and wonder why I think the way I do, I am so alone because I think this way. If only they could see what I see... I told myself these things.
I look at the bags under people's eyes, the young adults. And I wonder if the bigger the bag, the more sadness had touched their hearts. The deeper the grooves meant these young adults weren't smiling enough for their cheek muscle to be pushed up, so instead there's a gap. A gap reads pain and the piercing of reality in that person's life, the loss of innocence. I try to smile more often. I realize that when I smile, it'll not only perk up my cheeks and give me smiley eyes, but it'll make others feel safe to smile too.
The thought of insanity has grappled my mind once. Reading Andreasen's "The Creating Brain - the Neuroscience of Genius" relieved me at the same time it fortified my anger towards my family who, I believe, brushed away the many signs that pointed to a mental problem, a surpressing problem instigated by them, grudgingly caused by self. I admit to going through many episodes of depression, and saying out loud the desire to kill myself. I remember standing in the kitchen on a Sunday morning in front of the microwave and rebutting my parents who said that it was time for church and there was no time to 'go through this.' I told them I was depressed and that sometimes I wanted to kill myself because they weren't listening. But I didn't receive the care or the attention I truthfully deserved. Otherwise, I wouldn't be writing this right now.
Our past comes up in the present and will come up in the future inevitably. Unless we confront our past, because no parents or family or any person who has affected us during our childhood is perfect, we will constantly relive a destructive and ultimately useless cycle of impulsive or instinctive reactions to things that don't deserve to be affected by our past. I realized that I wanted to hurt people so badly, the way I was hurt. I didn't care anymore, I thought. I'll be who I'll be and be upfront about it. No more sugar coating or hiding. But I discovered that if I don't care about hurting someone, I might as well not exist, because hurting someone is a profound virus that has the potential to effectively spread through society and decapitate people's ability to shine and hope, as a result, begins to dwindle in their mind. I can see a light fading into a spec in their heads. When people get hurt for being vulnerable, honest, good-willed, or just being, it is a contagious laziness to drop their efforts to respect others as well, and you get this network of heart-stabbing people who demean the human potential and usher forth the negative and evil thoughts in people which coasters down to a digressive society. We want a society that is bright and a society where good dominates evil and that there are enough good people in the community to help the people in need of love, care, attention, hope, and someone to believe in them. Everyone needs a good supporter.
However I see it, life is also a blessing. I'm thinking about eating crunchy spring rolls from a chinese buffet and I am instantly happy and craving and wanting to go back to new york to have it with my family. Things like these make life even better on top of the kind of deep relations we make with people. You've gotta love chinese food.
As I am nearing the end of this post, I also look at the work I have to get done right before I go to sleep and I think about the worth in my work and time and energy I spend in gaining knowledge and aquiring skills. I think about the joy and excitement in the life that awaits tomorrow, not even Christmas (even though I am psyched for it). I think about the beautiful leaves I will walk through tomorrow morning, and their sweet and lovely voices that sing a harmony in the air. Fall is always breathtaking. There's also nothing like walking towards my 19th birthday. Next Monday, I wil commence on my last year as a teenager, whatever a teenager is, or what constitutes a teenager - freedom, flexibility, sponteneity, youth, fearlessness, energy, spark, limitless, influential, growing potential, fun, lively, and so much more. It's my last year. It doesn't scare me more than it disappoints me. I wish I had known that my creativity was normal and I wish I embraced my knowledge earlier on so that I could enjoy life and sustain more meaningful relationships that would enrich my youth and invigor me to love more and more passionately.
I hope my passions stay with me. I hope that they don't go with my innocence, which left descretely, without a moment's notice, disappearing like a silent wind carrying the fumes of an extinguished candle flame. I hope I am passionate all throughout life.
"I want apple pie," is the first. I have a bottle of ground cinnamon opened next to me. I sniff it sometimes in order to satiate my desire for sweets, like chocolate. It works. But I still imagine apple pie, the tasty crust and the scrumptuous innards.
Second, "eggs." Mixed eggs cooked scrambled. My grandparent's food is the best. They make lemon chicken and noodles and have crab and rice cake prepared for us, I remember on church weekends or SDC nights. They make immpeccable dishes - like none other and there will be no other like them and their dishes.
Third, "Is college really all this?" They say that you have the most and your last free time in college. Why is art college so difficult sometimes, long studio hours, relentless creativity... And I see breaks like fall, thanksgiving, winter, spring as the highlights or look-to parts of my semester, the light at the end of the tunnel, the hope for a satiating rest and time of tranquility and pleasant and earnest time spent with my family. My thinking is nothing special concerning this, but words and memories can puff up sometimes. For example when we move on, we either leave in our memories things we desire to see in them or simply we see the essence of the memory where details and likely the argumentative flaws and pricks really fade into the abyss.
In the class, I've mentioned before, Creativity and Genius, taught by Michael Sizer, I've picked up the book "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man," by James Joyce, and "The Creating Brain, the Neuroscience of Genius," by Nancy C. Andreasen M.D.,Ph.D. What I've read in these books is life-changing. I finally am released from the notion that I am really alone in my problems when really, I am what Andreasen describes a creative person, and not necessarily in terms of the adjective, but in terms of the noun. I am a creative person wired differently from the rest of society, but I am not the only creative person, which is the more liberating idea.
Andrean describes the creative person as one who is open, adventurous, possessing an intense curiosity, sensitive, and therefore likely to percieve the world and its situations with greater intensity. That explains why when I was young and I observed my family and got into arguments with them, I was speaking about a point of view ungraspable to them and rebutting became a useless endeavor because I was always criticized and shut down. I also saw a reality that could not be articulated at the time, which prompted me to always turn to God for help and perseverence because He was the only one who understood me thoroughly and truthfully. Consequently, the incessant flow of thoughts in my mind barricaded by a fear of being shot down again if spoken of swelled into a spot of bitterness and resentment. I could only vent to God, but He, too, seemed to provoke some psychological disorder in me, because He is literally invisible and the human was made to seek out a community, except I became an alien to that.
Now, I sit here looking back and seeing the struggle of a creative person through the chains and restrictive manners of societal conventions. I was a person with insight trying to break free, find a place of nurture. And here I am in art school, the best art school in the nation, MICA, and I could not have asked for a better community of creative people who are with me in this respect. I am where I am supposed to be and I am thankful that God has led me this far. I fit, and that's all despite my mere struggle to define my career path by facing the indimidating vastness of college choices like majors and everything else considered. But here I am, a declared Graphic Design major with a possible concentration in Video or Photography. I feel like I'm here for a reason, I'm not supposed to be anywhere else. I was wired and molded to become who I am today, someone I am sympathetic towards and proud of for making it this far.
I can't fully imagine what other creative people had to go through, the kind of trouble, rebellion, and especially the stakes they took to get here to MICA, whether it was leaving home with or without their parents or family's consent or approval.
I know my college years won't last forever. It's an experience that passes us by just like the quickening of everything physical transformed into a vaporized image in our brain somewhere, we call memory. Everything is fleeting, Time is never still. And that's why perhaps I grab on tighter to God who is everlasting, true, sovereign, an undefiable force that maneuvers at the deepest level of every living thing, like a current.
I am petrified, awed, humbled, completely relieved every time God testifies to his faithfulness. When I arrive to this conclusion, I understand that I've been here before, but I ask myself how possibly easy it was for me to slip into the curve of a loop only to arrive at the same destination. Blindness. Complete and utter blindness - towards God's love, because we lose trust in God, we lack faith. Faith that defeats fear and nourishes courage. Faith that is covicting and forward marching. Faith that is gracious and self-sacrificing.
I admit. Fears have been getting the better of me these past few weeks. Do I still fear sin? Do I fear provoking lust in men? Do I fear my own sin? Do I fear the revealing of my sins? Sin makes me like a blown up glass, I am empty inside but my shell is as fragile as cracking at the mere notion of criticism. Instead, I shell up, barricade my heart and everything about my face shows that I am closed and bullet-proof.
This must be my hearts natural response when it knows it's been hurt many times before this way. But my heart must have suffocated in order for this reaction to stem from the subconcious. I lay inert in bed, lying on my side, eyes wide open staring sideways at a blank wall. My arms bent, tugged closely to my chest, and knees are bent, brought up to my arms for warmth and comfort. I stare blankly and wonder why I think the way I do, I am so alone because I think this way. If only they could see what I see... I told myself these things.
I look at the bags under people's eyes, the young adults. And I wonder if the bigger the bag, the more sadness had touched their hearts. The deeper the grooves meant these young adults weren't smiling enough for their cheek muscle to be pushed up, so instead there's a gap. A gap reads pain and the piercing of reality in that person's life, the loss of innocence. I try to smile more often. I realize that when I smile, it'll not only perk up my cheeks and give me smiley eyes, but it'll make others feel safe to smile too.
The thought of insanity has grappled my mind once. Reading Andreasen's "The Creating Brain - the Neuroscience of Genius" relieved me at the same time it fortified my anger towards my family who, I believe, brushed away the many signs that pointed to a mental problem, a surpressing problem instigated by them, grudgingly caused by self. I admit to going through many episodes of depression, and saying out loud the desire to kill myself. I remember standing in the kitchen on a Sunday morning in front of the microwave and rebutting my parents who said that it was time for church and there was no time to 'go through this.' I told them I was depressed and that sometimes I wanted to kill myself because they weren't listening. But I didn't receive the care or the attention I truthfully deserved. Otherwise, I wouldn't be writing this right now.
Our past comes up in the present and will come up in the future inevitably. Unless we confront our past, because no parents or family or any person who has affected us during our childhood is perfect, we will constantly relive a destructive and ultimately useless cycle of impulsive or instinctive reactions to things that don't deserve to be affected by our past. I realized that I wanted to hurt people so badly, the way I was hurt. I didn't care anymore, I thought. I'll be who I'll be and be upfront about it. No more sugar coating or hiding. But I discovered that if I don't care about hurting someone, I might as well not exist, because hurting someone is a profound virus that has the potential to effectively spread through society and decapitate people's ability to shine and hope, as a result, begins to dwindle in their mind. I can see a light fading into a spec in their heads. When people get hurt for being vulnerable, honest, good-willed, or just being, it is a contagious laziness to drop their efforts to respect others as well, and you get this network of heart-stabbing people who demean the human potential and usher forth the negative and evil thoughts in people which coasters down to a digressive society. We want a society that is bright and a society where good dominates evil and that there are enough good people in the community to help the people in need of love, care, attention, hope, and someone to believe in them. Everyone needs a good supporter.
However I see it, life is also a blessing. I'm thinking about eating crunchy spring rolls from a chinese buffet and I am instantly happy and craving and wanting to go back to new york to have it with my family. Things like these make life even better on top of the kind of deep relations we make with people. You've gotta love chinese food.
As I am nearing the end of this post, I also look at the work I have to get done right before I go to sleep and I think about the worth in my work and time and energy I spend in gaining knowledge and aquiring skills. I think about the joy and excitement in the life that awaits tomorrow, not even Christmas (even though I am psyched for it). I think about the beautiful leaves I will walk through tomorrow morning, and their sweet and lovely voices that sing a harmony in the air. Fall is always breathtaking. There's also nothing like walking towards my 19th birthday. Next Monday, I wil commence on my last year as a teenager, whatever a teenager is, or what constitutes a teenager - freedom, flexibility, sponteneity, youth, fearlessness, energy, spark, limitless, influential, growing potential, fun, lively, and so much more. It's my last year. It doesn't scare me more than it disappoints me. I wish I had known that my creativity was normal and I wish I embraced my knowledge earlier on so that I could enjoy life and sustain more meaningful relationships that would enrich my youth and invigor me to love more and more passionately.
I hope my passions stay with me. I hope that they don't go with my innocence, which left descretely, without a moment's notice, disappearing like a silent wind carrying the fumes of an extinguished candle flame. I hope I am passionate all throughout life.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
I'm sorry OCM, but you have hurt me the most. I'm starting on a clean slate without you. :D I'm free now. I've decided to let go of the past. I've let it go through writing, which has set me completely free. Thank you Lord for bringing me through today's worship. You ARE AWESOME and ALWAYS FAITHFUL. I love you Lord<3
Oh November, you are ALWAYS so interesting. :) haha thanks you. :O I'm turning 19 this month!!!! Hahaaaa
---------------------------
Later on:
LOVE =
for a long time... been a long time...
Oh November, you are ALWAYS so interesting. :) haha thanks you. :O I'm turning 19 this month!!!! Hahaaaa
---------------------------
Later on:
LOVE =
for a long time... been a long time...
Saturday, November 6, 2010
What scares me is the fact that I don't know who we are anymore. I'm so unsure right now if what we're getting ourselves into is something right. What if I'm not trying hard enough and I'm getting complacent. The idea of an Anti-Christ is kind of a concept I've never really explored before, and until tonight, based on what I read somewhere, it's kinda disappointing how 'Christians' celebrate man, focusing on making oneself happy and glorifying man instead of God. I'm guilty of it, but I don't know where to stop feeling guilty. I don't know if I'm denying knowledge because I know it'll bring suffering, or whether this is all just 'part of the plan' and I'm taking my time to enjoy myself for once. I don't know. Nothing is certain, and that's scary. No one knows what's going on, many people are too blind to see it, and for me, even if I see it, the pain's too hard to go back to, something I don't even know was necessary for so long. I'm worried, I'm afraid that I'm losing grip on what I used to value so much more than anything else. My priorities were so straight back then. Now, I'm juggling three big priorities I can think of right away, God, my schoolwork, and my parents/family/health/friends. And I've actually got my priorities mixed up before. It's so bad, it's kind of shameful. I don't feel good inside, I don't feel proud of being a Christian for that matter. I feel that when I say I'm a Christian, I get burdened by all that is expected of me, and I don't think I can ever take what I did before in the past, when I really gave my all and lost my mind. It gets me angry too when I think back at it. I never had a healthy 'balance' because I was so consumed with God, so bred on the fact that I am living for God, and not myself, to deny my nature and desire and to also prevent myself from doing stupid things by avoiding it. It was all planned out, thought out, and that's what made life seem so tiring. Five years since I've been baptized and it seems like it was timeless, as if my clearest memories go straight back to middle school, when I broke up with the only best friend I ever had, for a reason I still do not know. I made up excuses to my parents saying that she did drugs and dated guys and broke up with them and I actually made her look like junk, when I was really trying to come up with a reason why I silently drifted from her and at that I cost her reputation, someone who loved me and stood up for me and played with me. I'll never forget the memories, but I'll never forgive myself for judging her for the sake of me. I love her though, she's still Kelly Simpson, she's still loving, and honest, and persevering, and inspirational, I'm sure to many. But I worry I'm getting lazy and complacent, like I'll be one of them, go with the flow, stand right out just to blend right in. I don't know how I could live any other way. I've tried to be happy, and I have been, and I've tried doing the best of everything I could possibly do, but it feels so heavy, this feeling that I'm missing something, really really big, and I'm just missing out on a deeper life that can be so much more satisfying. I miss that I guess. Happiness doesn't come near what fulfillment God can give you. I don't hunger for God anymore. I don't want to play the keyboard for two worship sets tomorrow, that's from 10am - 2pm, half my day right there. I know back in the cana days I would find a reason for why, why my time, but now, I can't find it. My work is just as important, getting things done on time, and never giving my competition the slack. I want to feel on top, I want to be the best, I want to be in it to win it, I want to do better, be better, learn more, get better, do the best, and that's all. Do my best. Is this what I've watered my life down to? I mean, it is essential that I do my best. But I know that's not enough. Definitely not enough. To do my best is missing something, it's implying something too. I'm leading, and God's just supposed to be there to support me? Last year, when I was a freshman, I always had the mindset of God leading first, and I following. Lord, I would say, I have a project that's due, give me inspiration so that I can bring you glory through it. Can I bring glory to God by finishing my graphic design homework? Sure, I'm working my way up towards getting a college degree and diploma, so that God can use that for my future works. But what about my life now, I'm not asking God to lead the day tomorrow. I'm not asking God to lead the way, and I follow. I'm saying, 'I have no blasted idea of where I'm going but as long as I'm happy and doing well in school, we'll see where life brings me.' And quite yes, this is completely normal. See where life takes me right? See what God has in store or planned for me. Am I an activist? Really? Maybe I want to lead with God in making change happen now, on campus, sooner, now, instead of waiting until I get my diploma and get a job, and have a family, and move around. Thinking about that, this mindset will never change. Even when I have a family, I'll say, 'Ok God, I'm still waiting for what you have in store for me.' And yes, nothing's wrong with that either. But why would I still be waiting. I mean, shouldn't I be living in the moment for God? Am I missing something here? Do I dismiss people too easily? I mean, am I supposed to be concerned about every classmate I see in class, Am I supposed to say hi to them every time I see someone I recognize but don't know, or whether I'm supposed to force myself to get to know them or to try to at least appreciate them, or go out of my way to talk to them or just be really awkward and unnatural and obstrusive by saying 'hi' to them, what's your name, where are you from, what year are you, what major are you, and leave them in the bandwagon only to forget everything about them the next day. It's too much for me, I can't take it alone, I can't handle so much void in the school. Yes, I see hurt, I see a lot of lost faces and people in the cafeteria, I see a lot of hidden fear in people's eyes, but what am I supposed to do. Honestly? What. Go up to them and say, 'Hey, what's up. Can I sit here? Are you all right? I'm sorry, you don't know me, I'm here to assure you that there's hope in this world and ..' oh gosh, I'm sounding so anti-christ right now. Like I'm against such an unnatural action, or reaction, or proactive action. You see my problem. There's no line to draw. Do your best, think about yourself, is being self-centered, but thinking about others, makes you feel like crap because they don't give, and you feel sucky and frickin' angry that you ever turned back. I don't, I really don't, all I want to do is eat sushi right now, Go to a chinese buffet and seriously get some Chinese food and eat lobster mix and spring rolls and oh my gosh dumplings and oh my gooooosh nooodles and fried rice and chicken and string beans and oh my word,,,,, I want all of this right now. And I'll be happy and I'll spend time chatting with you at a table, time passing, letting thing unravel and change, and I'll just be there as another small, tiny catalyst in the world doing very very little, but focusing on her own life, her own goals, her own values and morals, inflicting them on others who will never accept them because they're doing their part of inflicting their morals into the world, and this world will become just a huge place of clashing and banging and bonging and sounding and clammering and bumping and bruising and bashing and sword-drawing fights. If this is what I see or at least CAN see, then something's wrong. Love? Can that be it? But so many people just focus on romantic love, like it's the only thing in life worth experiencing. Seriously? I wouldn't mind, but do I think it's the most important thing? No. I think it's nice to love, and be romantic, and I hate to crush, but it happens, because it's distracting and my mind is only thinking about you, BUT, love is nice because it gives me ... dare I say joy? But definitely happiness because YOU, I, WE all of a sudden become the WORLD in each other's eyes and that's enough to continue to live and be blind to the rest of the world's troubles isn't it? It's easy that way. Definitely easy to work with someone by your side, but definitely a romantic partner is not the goal, is never the end, but always a means, a way of living. And I see it as optional, to say the least. But what is love? Everyone asks that. It's even a song. It hurts people too, love. Yet there's something so satisfying about love. What about God's love, shouldn't that be our first love? I remember that often actually, but I think it's easy to forget that God's love can be romantic too. I know it it first hand, forshur, and I'll NEVER forget it, those moments where I'm in complete awe and I get the blush because I know God's whispering to me that I'm beautiful and I'm everything He's asking of me and I'm overjoyed. But God is also just and faithful and He can get jealous too. Why have we forgotten that God is our first love? HE IS LOVE. How could I forget that.. I don't know why I'm so angry inside. I don't appear it, but when I start talking about God and love, I get so angry. Is it because my love for God has given me so much pain? It definitely is a possibility. I just wish I knew something for sure. I know that God is there, he exists. But I'm still struggling with the part of love, His love for me, Hell, why can't I look to the cross and see that Jesus died for me. Have I seriously grown numb to that story? Have we all? Because we've heard it so many times? Maybe because we're, like I was addressing in the beginning, NOT GOING OUT AND DOING ANYTHING that we're stuck with the same story that has NO NEW FRESH PERSPECTIVE. There's no breath of fresh air in the Gospel when you don't live it out, am I right? It becomes a dead story in your head that your heart only knows and you grow dry because of it, because you really don't KNOW God at least you don't converse with Him enough to stay in a relationship with Him, one you're willing to keep and go back to. Am I right? I'm right. I'm sure I am. It must be the same for me too. This whole anti-christ is something I can now put a name to the FACT that people are DRIFTING. Sorry for the caps. But we are, and too often wavering in fear, when LOVE should CAST OUT FEAR. So I guess what I should do is get to know God more, and in the sense that God is my true lover, and He is the only person who can fulfill my needs and desires, but SEEK THE KINGDOM FIRST, remember? Meaning, my desires come AFTER my OBEDIENCE TO GOD'S WILL, which essentially is to love others and I say even more than myself. And I'll be moved by the Holy Spirit. That should be enough. But really, as much as duty counts, it's also not what saves us. It's loving God too. But FAITH WITHOUT WORKS IS DEAD. so you kinda hafta have both. Love God, have faith in Him, Trust that He's taking care of me, But don't forget to listen closely to His commands so that you can obey them, and I'm taking to me too. Obey. Overcome. And that's the line.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Just a couple of things before I head off to class:
Foods I was craving last night:
1) spring rolls
2) fish sticks/ fishballs
What I'm feeling right now:
1) anxiety because I have a critique coming
2) i have a headache from last night
What I'm looking forward to:
1) Thanksgiving break
2) Taking lots and lots of photos in the next months to come
3) Winter break
What I'm not excited for:
1) class registration (not yet at least)
2) the end of the semester (bc it scares me how time flies and things change)
3) my birthday (what is there to doo??!)
What I want for my birthday:
1) A plastic, orange watch (not the flimsy, cheap type)
2) A new camera lens! (telephoto, micro, prime, wide-angle - all the ones i hope to get sooner or later)
3) new shoes/sneaker type
4) the (purple/pink) corduroy pants the girl is wearing in the ipad ad billboard along the fdr - along with the pair of flats that go along with it.
Class time!... ugheeeehhhh
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