Do you know why it will be impossible for me to ever date someone in art school? Cus we'll never survive financially, technologically, and mentally. Who will fix the house? Obviously not my husband cus all he'll know to do is pick up a paintbrush.

I've never felt this anger and fierceness in me in a long time, and I can honestly say that I miss this feeling so much. I've missed it for a stretch of time because I'm sick of trying to be nice to people and having to suck up to them. Although it was never my intention, it appears that way to people and I hate how I'm looked down upon because of it, how it feels to be stepped all over. So I inclined to being the fierce me again, it made my guts boil and so now I'm in this state and I kinda wanna whiplash everyone at this point. But whatever, I still have my purpose so I won't compromise it by being vain. I'm just saying that this feeling inside of me is what got me doing sit-ups and squats in my old house at night, the same feeling that had me running all over my yard, and I miss it, because I can feed off of that energy, that drive. Thank you.

We only go as far as being friends here at MICA. That's it.

I am a seed that has withered even before it has bloomed

I am a thought, poisoned or merely struck with reality

Out of the ordinary, out there and bitter and lonely in my thoughts

I deceive myself; I use my own pain and sadness to bring myself some glory

I use God to bring myself all the glory

I use His name, and I am pitiful for the lost

I am a conflict, a batter of useless hope, a premature or over-mature mind

Almost insane in thoughts, sick with words of butter and conceal

An intense, burning anger in the pit that yearns for light-hearted laughter and salvation for all

A serious, yet whacky girl, unprecedented and in control and controlled

On the fringe of death, yet in the bathtub of life,

Murky waters and a fleeting soul, only an instigator of change in every moment,

Discovered or purposefully hidden forever, taken by time, lost in history,

A withering rose-bud, tortured by the air it breathes and the vein that supplies her blood,

Forgotten, only transferred, only an essence carried with ideas that carve the paths for change,

For better or for worse, I am selfish and holistically unselfish, I claim to be, I am.

And I have a mere wish that you were too,

But I hate you, and I despise your train of thought,

But I know I love you deep down,

I hate you inside, I am against YOU.

So I will live on the edge, learn from what I can, and take what I will, give when I will,

Because I am me and no one can possibly destroy my conscience.

I choose, I see, I will develop my own, my self, and thrive on the love of family,

Defer any ill-will of liars who call themselves friends,

And I will know me, find out what Christianity has to do with a life without blindness.

FAILURE? IS OK.... FEAR? IS NOT.

Keep Going

It seems like as long as life goes on, there will always be a next, something after to look forward to that keeps life invigorating and exciting. College has taught me exactly that, that as good as those free days in childhood were when being carefree was everything, I've learned that life reveals new things to take joy in. I also remember from PR's sermon last Sunday that if we were to live carefree lives right now, we would always ask the question, "Why?" and we would never know. PR gave the example of how the Olympians know "Why" they're competing, putting their heart and flesh out in practice and giving it their all no matter how painful trials and sacrifices might be; they know "Why" because all their work is to win the gold medal. To ask God "Why" is like forgetting why we're running this race altogether, to forget the goal, the prize. So as an encouragement for my brothers and sisters, keep going, keep moving forward despite the unknown and the uncertainties, as well as the known and the inevitable.

Fan and Disk

Number 1 Rule: Stay True to Yourself

Number 2 Rule: Never Lose Sight of God

oh suhnap.

i can just sit in the bleachers and watch other people's lives go by and it'd be a beautiful sight. but i wonder how long until someone taps me on my shoulder...

i feel like a rocket-ship.

[the end]

respect

consideration

being open

being you

MESH!

Hello World,

I want to be left alone for a while. I'm going through a time of deterioration and you don't want to see me like this.

Memory

In general, to live without memory is to live without meaning. Semantic memory, for example, grapples with simply recalling the name of an object. To forget in every fleeting moment is not to live at all.

Memory also seems to have varying degrees of penetration. In reference to the Lacanian theory, every child’s segway from the Imaginary Order to the Symbolic Order necessitates language as a pivotal development into society. Language facilitates communication, which actually yields individual characterization. In perspective, linguistic memory, specifically, is nearly second nature to us. Whereas children we were occupied with addressing objects with meaning, the next fold of memories gradually increased over time when meaning gave birth to life, and life as it were was remembered.

What delegated power to our memories? To begin, I believe that a memory is most deeply impressed when all senses are engaged in providing the most informative account of how the self has interacted with the world. The mind, body, and soul are static with time. Power is delegated to memory when the memory is realized. As time initiates the transformation of life, so too does it evolve the transformative power of memories. Meanwhile, nostalgia is powerless. Nostalgia occurs when the present state of loss urges the retrieval of memory to fulfill it; the body is in a state of conflict between the past and present. The function of memory moves with time, as the more time that has elapsed since the event of the memory, the better the memory is put into perspective.

As natural as memories resurface in our mind, a second look at memories will often enlighten us. That is where humans draw their transformative power – from the wells of their deepest engagement with life that ring truth. Memory can be seen as the nutrients of the soil that are absorbed over time in order that life may achieve its full blossom. The realization of memories holds great potential. Much like the life of art that is created in the moment but later realized gains great value. But just as art comes alive when it is visible to the public eye, must memories be spoken or shared in order to come to life in other people. Memories that are fragments of the past and in the making are interwoven in the fabric of community when shared. Of course, memories that are realized are strung together in understanding of a bigger picture that is told as a story. And those that listen closely will almost always find wisdom.

Memories have great germinative power. If cherished, positive memories may instill in someone profound gratitude and appreciation for what was and possibly still is. And at times, painful or bitter memories make evident the room there always is for improvement or reconciliation. They can be signs, blueprints of character traces, watermarks in other people’s lives, or simply living and breathing events unraveling with time. Whatever memories function in the lives of diverse people, they lie uneasily as a form of credibility but serve as discrete catalysts for staggering change.

I just realized my parents never came to any of my meets.

What is this skepticism we possess every time we meet a "Christian." Is there a need to feel elevated or ahead of the race. Why do we become so possessive, even possessive of God Himself. We are so insecure, wavering this way and that way the next, trying to figure out which way is the right way to carry ourselves. I feel like I'm standing on a ball every time, the ball rolling around as I try to find balance and stillness and comfort and a sense of security.

I've been saying it aloud more frequently... of how tired I am sometimes about my Christian faith, and weary of having to try and live my life to a standard that seems like it opposes everything about being a human. Recently, of course, I haven't. I once thought that Christian-living was about a standard, but it's more accurately resolved in an inner drive that projects the human body, along with its heart, mind, and soul, outward. And still, in the knowledge of that, in the belief of that, I am still tired and weary. I've been letting my body sleep as it wills, speak at it wills, and do as it wills, going with the flow as you'd say. Too tired to pick up, too kneaded by an over-processed brain, dulled to the lyrics of a song, fancied by nothing except what might be sublime, out of tune with my words, and disappointed by my loneliness still.

How is it that I've been calling, and I've been talking, and I've been typing, yet no one cares to initiate a 'how are you doing?' in return. The worst thing one can do is take advantage of someone and take for granted everything he has. What happens when I leave, when I decide to pull away, because my body has used itself to its capacity... for you, for so long. And not a sliver in return, not out of selfishness, but out of pure sadness and disappointment in not doing your part in return, as a brother or sister in Christ, only assessing your own walk with God, neglecting a pivotal part of who you are as a Christian to keep your brothers and sisters accountable and in-check. We've all heard it before, a small act of kindness goes a long way. Where have our hearts been these past couple of days. How come we've only been censoring ourselves. Where did the community go? Where did our selflessness go? How dare we replace the only God who could satisfy us.

With ourselves? With our girlfriend? With our boyfriend? With our fantasies? With our dreams? With our hopes?

I know we keep to ourselves sometimes. Oftentimes, because privacy is necessary. Alone-time is necessary. Time is necessary to play itself out. But love at least. Even if it's just a little part of you. I can't help but understand that we're all part of a progression. We're all owners of ourselves but we make choices that, whether you know it or not, affects an unapproachable and never-knowing number of people. We're all like raindrops, because we always have a ripple effect when we hit the puddle. I can't help but to also identify that I'm only half-capable, that I'm not strong enough alone to do who knows what. I'm weak and certainly I have my limitations. So when I get to the bare bones of things, I must believe that God will sustain me and give me the support that I need from my physical surroundings.

I once wrote in my notebook that because God is the formula to my equation, no one will ever understand me until they come to terms with God. I know that the world will never figure me out, that they will judge me however they want to, only because they don't have God in their lives, and they don't know His power over me. But what began me in this post was the idea that for those of us who do know God, I care to confess my utter skepticism in... because until we choose to initiate with each other, we will never become a family.

I really miss my old home, and I wish I had more time to absorb everything. I wish I had the time to soak up the joy and the laughter and to bask myself in the warm sunlight on the balcony of that cruise ship. I wish I could close my eyes more often and embrace the moment, the scent, the sound, the atmosphere. I wish I could stop thinking for just awhile, to stop my brain from rambling, instead to let the heart feel what it wants to feel, to let my body free to express what it feels like expressing. To capture the wind with my palms, to hear the sidewalk under my feet, to let the chills run down my back instead of shaking it off, i'll let it carry to the tips of my nerves. I wish I had. And maybe I did. All to miss it the more.