why can't we just live

sometimes there is a little voice
but not inside my head
i'm listening inside for it
it never comes. it's dead.
but then i get a sense of this
and chill for this and even that
i'm running and it's alive
then i stop to catch my breath
it's nowhere. it's dead.

find it please
the things we need
the things we ever thought to be
and we are living and it's now

steep

Tread round your aching sides
Great mountain fall on me
again
I came across this way
When I was once young and free
I came across this way
again
And asked who I would be
…
Heat rose and embers fell
I died so I could see

so i am crazy

When this semester ends at dear dear Patrick Henry College place, I will find myself once again employed by the greatest production company in Silver Spring, Brainbox! So I thought to myself, working full-time is very long and takes up a lot of one's time. This winter I know I will be working. But I must make the most of it. there is much to look forward to. Reading the Bible, free time to breathe, working with Jen T!!! Andrew!!! and for Bill!!! Also, there might be snow, watching people on the Metro, Christmas shopping, gettting into some good indie, going to indie concerts in DC, and watching movies/hanging out on Friday nights, etc. i know that it will be fun :)


Here’s how I hope it will look, now that I carry a SmarTrip card and a loooong winter coat:

A typical day, and with wistful eyes I write this:

5.00 Wake
5.30 hit the YMCA (la) and run designated amount - either 3 or 5 miles.
6.30 shower and eat breakfast
7.10 leave for metro, during metro have morning devotion
7.20 ish leave on metro bound for Silver Spring - purple line, where are you????
9.00 arrive at beloved worksite - Brainbox, and WORK!
5.00 leave beloved worksite and take metro home, during read independent study book, and listen to something contemplative, like bright eyes
6.45 arrive at home, cook/eat dinner
7.15 free - emails, etc
8.45 LOG
9.00 bedtime

jk 

read elsewhere:
only one life
't'will soon be past
only what's done
for Christ will last

A thing i wish: to spend two years of life reading an entire library.
A paradigm: my love for knowledge and hate of school

lip syncing they approached wayside
rubbing hands and feathered hats
their sooty grime and pressured eyes
melted away at my demise
their eyes grew bright and large and warm
and closer closer near they came
fingers out from tattered gloves
first came soft
then rough and harsh
the weathered dying landscape
was laid threadbare again
and back into the open fell
the body of a dying girl

who hears the panther leap
quiet pads the softest feet
bare into the jungle night
and take me down, a triple feat:
blood, guts, and gore to eat

if such a large percentage of my brain is inactive, just with millions of other Americans, then what can i do?

"Anything that is too stupid to be spoken is sung."
- Voltaire

*offended*

"People demand freedom of speech to make up for the freedom of thought which they avoid."
- Soren Aabye Kierkegaard

"Give me chastity and continence, but not yet."
- Saint Augustine

"A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on."
- Sir Winston Churchill

"The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work."
- Emile Zola

* i disagree- the gift exists and it is something- a gift is a gift- something given to a person. they possess it, and may or may not utilize it if they will to do so. the method by which it is used does not validate or "prove" its value. it's just a great great shame along with all our other shame. shame is what humans should possess the most, with all that they do. yet we have no shame*

this seemed so much like yesturday 

who lives there? an old man? a working librarian with 1.2 toy dogs? 

bros 

feet 

so here i am blogging at midnight. why? because i am a wisp quickly fading... because i want to remember me... because i am fueled by my selfish motives of preservation and remembrance... because i want remembrance... because it is sweet

(this picture is from april of this spring oh six. a dear friend mocked my gypsy looks and therefore i posed. gypsies rule!... money, please.)

so i would blog... but i don't feel particularly into sharing all my lifes secrets, nor retorting down through finger flying my daily rituals partaken. i'd rather laugh run and play away so quick and gone

ear can tide the bit that be
till the powers fade and find me seethe
in corridors and corners quickly fading
i loved to laugh and lived to learn
the edges started fraying
my hands were ripped
sky high disaster struck
and i fell back
to shells of harder clay

of course there is no ending
of course there is no prey
just endless hunters seeking
maple wood and... prey

the cold wind draft comes by it's own bidding
awaken when it knows the most
can't find it worn leather spots
so it comes and goes and comes again
and stays here the way it wants
riverbeds of mountain air
founding freezing fading

the everlast of eye slit glows
the rivers flow in peace
then day then night
then sun lit morn
and clash the waters rage

i can't believe my hands swore yes
when the mind was yelling what
i am a clashing contradict of colors moss and leaves

breathe brother banty
breaths like water smoke
over every piece of solid
hearts token love on stilts

they shut they open and open wide
say ahhh... tell- scream
cheecks burn
pink
oh subtle
red
the jeers
purple
please stop it now.
red
fresh
red.

ah i must

life is life
i like this wood
i like the grain
i run up my fingers
and feel the pain
it bleeds

sweet bitter life
come cut me deep
come make me cry
pain and joy
i must survive

one dead island's summer's moon
gave up the crystal
sit and soot
and dust from sky bright tears and cages
the toodle players of ancient sages
i came running waste high in massage cast
of life divided, masked face past
cried ten times and dove again
into the salty stinging spray
life love color please give way

Then it comes. Heavy and wet all over. It’s 80 and the smell of thick summer is in the nose. But it cracks, heaves, and sighs, flashing lights cracking wet all over. Stop and stand there. In my frail emotional spirit I feel connected with nature. I am indeed out of my league. But it goes on and on and excites me. I stand up, laughing so quickly that another comes before the one has finished coming. Then it happens, and I sit quickly in surprise. A thunder crack everywhere and all at once, that I was not ready for, that rattled mind body soul. It is the great everything who had to remind me. I sit very still, becoming soaked to my underclothes with every passing moment. And I realize that I dare not breathe, and that every cell in my frail frame is alive because the great almighty is breathing life into them every single moment. And then I know, in a fleeted moment, that I am not my own, just like the trees and the grass and the rain and the sky are not their own.

Then I am speechless. And then I laugh. I am filled with the knowing of the great almighty. I tremble, yet take much joy in my trembling and realize that “I am at peace with God,” for the great almighty told me so. I want to get closer but can’t. But I do know that where I stand and anywhere I’d ever stand is his. So my cheeks start hurting and I can’t stop as I lift my hands as high as I can.

Then a door behinds me sqeaks open. In a familiar harsh Japanese voice, I hear my mother say, “What are you doing? It’s one AM in the morning!”

Then I stumble towards the door and fling my wet body into the shower, all smiles.

up there

flying high

is where i wanna stay

come down the devils scream

flying high

let me stay

let me dream

dear good sunday gone the one i never had

empty

She was once so weak that she couldn't walk. But she came. It made all the difference. One game, she could barely make it across the field. We carried a chair foward every few feet so she could walk and then rest. Everything she had was for Him. She told us to give it all for God's glory, and that in the end, nothing else would matter. I remember talking to her after a dinner. She leaned against a wall and looked up at me. "The apostle Paul is my personal hero." She held her hand out, motioning, and smiled. At times she was physically wiped, wrapped in blankets and still shivering. not a word of complaint, not a cry of pain. Her frail body was in suffering for a long time, yet she had so much strength and joy. I never knew a woman so close to her maker, so strong in the faith, and so tested. She was always straightforward and honest. She looked life right in the eye. She was ready.

I don't have any good words in my dry mouth. Nothing comes but tears and grief. Is grief good?

Oh but she is with Him, Him in all His glory, and now they wait for us.

Still-

the need for speed

i've been sitting here rolling em and...

ok kids, it comes to the point of critical defense- do we do it or not?














yes, recently i've been tempted to try crystal meth after working on it as ae for a special for tv
i mean, look, you don't need plastic surgery- just take some beautiful meth

we are generation X (repeat that 3x)

seriously- maybe all we do so thoughtlessly- it's like a drug addiction

so i smile and realize how much i hate myself and love myself

oh the agony and the ecstacy!

my life this week: procrastination drives desparation- as is LAST MINUTE PHC APP!!

peace

ps: oh i forgot- the diary part:

dear online super personal blog diary,

- today i baked chocolate chip cookies, took pictures of my dog, and tried to speculate where my life would be in 5 years. Then, i talked to my friend Suzie on the phone for like half and hour, and than chilled at the pool.*

come on- nobody can take this crap!

*pending personal blog removal
*completely fictional story that i would never do

in opt for

Super cool video blog that is impersonal!!!

there, i did it, i officially suck- i made a blog entry.

Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and you perish in the way, for his wrath is quickly kindled. Blessed are all who take refuge in him.

-Psalm 2:12

germantown starbucks + ice cold H2o + Calc HW + and iPod headphones in my fist 

micah, kyle, and many guns 

joel 

joel and the guy who yelled at him for 3 months 

the tree i see each day as i rise 

kyle (a young civil air officer), joel (a marine), micah (a bum) 

pc addict 

mah arm - artistic 

bah y mi 

caution: winning kills

There is nothing like writing and writing... day in and day out… the endless cycle of words is the only living thing I spew. It is actually quite sad. I once wanted to live life. I wanted to hike- to climb the mountain, smear the dirt, taste the sweat and scrape the skin. It is all a faded memory now. There once was a wet damp leaf, frosted over with dirt and live insects. Now it is a dirty room- the recognition and the testimony to frustration, irritation, death, ignorance. It is no wonder that I am in a very bad mood then, since I no longer try to obligate the masses. I have been the rope, in my past life. My cords were frayed, my mind was taut, tense, and sacrificed- all for the temperamental vices. I was pulled this way 30 degrees, this way 5 inches, dunked in mud on victory’s round and then I was crucified by the very ones who cried my name. It was brutal and I was a death defier. I can look at it two ways- I am a triumphant successor who carries battle wounds with pride- or- I am saying, at every moment, “It is finished,” as I drag my dead body around, trying to altogether fall over and disappear. The last one is mine. It is one of reluctant recognition and agonized defeat. I stood for about ten minutes and looked around the room- I saw the remains of intense fruitful activity, I saw the open tools and utensils, I saw the discarded copies and versions, I saw numbers and names. Then I looked down, at myself. I saw flesh and might- at least the remains of such- when I was gradually pulled through the paper shredder. Ah, procrastination, for tomorrow, what potency! You have wrought my final hour- and my quiet, unnoticed downfall- indeed, for it was because of my immense victory that no one took notice of my fall. But here I lay- in the bottom of pit that is muddy and worn- countless times have I fallen before, each time believing it to be my last, yet I have risen, and now have returned. Will I rise? Will I ever return? Oh, it would be nice, to have legs, arms, and eyes again…. but it is so peaceful here… I can finally rest. I want to stay here… until I am ground to frustration and burst out of the pit in splendid defiance. In a spit of anger I prefer to rise. I have wearied and journeyed long enough. Here I shall not wait- I shall rest. If I so happen to be filled with a surge of desire- then so let it be, so let it come, as it may. Whatever, in truth, whatever.

oh no

the dreaded day that starbucks plays black eyed peas has finally come, sniff

one day at brainbox i ate this fortune cookie

"You are going to get some new clothes"

that is one of the best "fortunes" i have encountered so far...!

True Islam does not tolerate anything offensive to their beliefs, as cautiously covered in this story. (Be warned this is a story that is written pro-Islam by liberal reporters who fail to understand intolerance)

Internship Day 1

Today was the first day of my internship at BrainBox Tv.
I don't have that mucho tiempo so i'll make this sweet.

I got there, we (matt, anna, and i) got a tour from lea (pronounced ley-ah!)
andrew showed anna and i around avid, etc.
we had noodles n company with the crew
we did grunt work till 5:45~

it was cool
tbc...

Sigh

This just makes me really sad:

Mother locks daughter in bathroom for 3 decades