Fahrenheit 451

"I often wonder if God recognizes His own son the way we've dressed him up, or is it dressed him down? He's a regular peppermint stick now, all sugar-crystal and saccharine when he isn't making veiled references to certain commercial products that every worshiper absolutely needs..."

What still can't be proven.

You simply can't attempt counting the infinite number of stars penetrating the black curtain sky,

teach a little human to take its first breath of earth,

organize the thoughts and processes of the mind into a simple formula,

chase the rainbows or the wings of a hummingbird,

extract the pure meaning of loss and pain and death,

nor understand the boundaries of one's destiny or destination.

But in all certainty, you can definitely not tell me that there is no God who set this all into motion.

When Dusk Turns to Dawn

Upon the horizon, ripples of terror tear between the seams;

Cause and effect are all at once dire, horrific, dense.

This looming horizon bleeds a crimson and orange blend,

one which I begrudgingly recognize--

the inevitable side of the spectrum of which I dread.

An approaching din, accompanied by silhouettes

keeps time, keeps rhythm,

steals my sanity.

Tauntingly, they trot over the round side of the world,

Leaving behind a veil of the dusty sin, filth and regret.

Question marks and graphic punctuation float over my head,

illustrating confusion, frustration, reservation.

But, alas, from the seemingly inadequately barren gravel beneath my feet,

a single seed planted long ago bursts at its seams, exploding into existence.

It branches out, reaching all corners of fear,

pushing aside the enemy army on the ever-oozing horizon.

I sit beneath this life-bearing tree, gathering strength, courage, faith--

the treasures I've required for so long but had not attained out of ignorance.

And under the life-giving branches, divine peace embraces me,

sweeter than the wink of stars or kiss of the wind.

And I know that in my faith, I am not only complete,

but that it is my destiny; this is all a part of my plan.

Barking up the wrong tree

I'm gonna talk about something everybody is definitely sick of hearing about.

No, not health care. Not Obama’s "lack of citizenship." No politics. Or at least not really.

I'm here to dispute the case of Michael Vick.

So backtrack to the beginning. December 10, 2007: Vick is sentenced to 23 months; almost two years for dog-fighting/cruelty to animal charges, and mildly influenced by a minor violation of his pretrial agreements (that he wouldn't possess unlawful narcotics/other substances).

I give mad props to U.S. District Judge Henry Hudson for laying down the law in this case, even when prosecutors only suggested 18 months behind bars. Typically, the illustrious class is able to evade the law in one way or another, so this was a good message and example for Hudson to send out there. And don't forget organizations like PETA were jumping up and down more vigorously than they have in a long, long time because of the slap-in-the-face for animal rights violations Vick received.

At the end of the trial, after the verdict was read, Hudson told Vick that he needed to apologize to the many stakeholders in his case: the millions who looked to him as a role model, all those he hurt, etc. Vick replied with a "Yes, sir," and was thus locked up.

All that seems like so long ago, doesn't it? And it was. Two years is a long time, especially in a case with such charges that are normally (and wrongfully) overlooked by courts.

Vick was allegedly good in jail for the 19 months he was there, even playing prison football, and he called his time there a "turning point." Good for him.

Once Vick got out, the media coverage snowballed into the Philadelphia Eagles' signing him on a two-year contract. At the press conference, Vick spoke to the public for the first time since his prison release. His message was of thankfulness, luck, regret and change. "Now I want to be part of the solution and not the problem," he said, even vowing: "I won't disappoint." A big promise, but coming from a big guy. Again, kudos.

But that darned PETA (Philadelphia's society, this time) had to go and start yapping. And when that watchdog sounds the alarm, reverberations are felt nationwide. Now, I'm not saying PETA is a bad organization; I've been a bit of an animal activist myself, even adopting vegetarianism more than once in my lifetime. It's just that this lobby wields too much power. Or rather, their followers are just extremist in many cases.

Susan Cosby, Philadelphia's PETA Chief Executive Officer said: "Philadelphia is a city of dog lovers and, most particularly, pit bull lovers. To root for someone who participated in the hanging, drowning, electrocution and shooting of dogs will be impossible for many, no matter how much we would all like to see the Eagles go all the way."

Come on, Cosby. This kind of talk is ridiculous, to say the least. The language used in this is true propaganda; Michael Vick wasn't convicted for electrocuting or gunning down canines. He was sent to jail for organizing and funding dogfights (which is still terrible, but not as terrible).

Most importantly, I've gotta say Philadelphia Eagles fans are by the most intense--and vicious--fans I have yet to encounter. I still remember the year the Tampa Bucs played in Philly for the Playoffs and my favorite player Joe Jurevicius' baby boy had just died. And these nasty, inhumane (got that, PETA?) fans mockingly asked him, "So where's your son?" with drunken laughs. I rest my case, you Philly wankers.

Like I said, two years is quite a long time. And maybe Vick has repented, maybe he has not. But who's to judge? And who's to decide? The NFL's already let him back in the league and he's bound to a two-year contract now, against much protesting, so it's not like there's anything anybody can do about it now.

Besides, losing almost two years of his young life is punishment enough, says I. Don't forget that this so-called protege has a family, and even a fiance that had to wait for his release before they could marry.

And obviously Vick will have to undergo intense physical training to get back to his tip-top shape that he undoubtedly left behind before he left the prison cell. And even when he does get back into shape, it will never be the same.

This lapse of time has cost Vick more than time; it's cost him contentedness and the promising future he once had.

So to PETA/animal rights groups/protestors, I suggest: Get over it while you can.

Because most fans aren't going to care about his past, or his future because it's not looking that great.

Yeah, what he did and sponsored was absolutely horrific. I'll definitely testify to that. But Vick's served his sentence, he's done his time and he's paid the price for his crimes. And he goes out into this new world knowing that a second conviction is going to be worlds worse than this first.

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time...

When I originally heard about the $1 billion CAR Allowance Rebate System (CARS)--or more commonly known as the “Cash for Clunkers” program--I was pretty interested to see how it works. So before I begin my rant, here’s a quick education for those of you who just don’t know about it or have been deprived of outside contact, over the hill and through the woods at grandmother’s house:

Increments of $3,500 or $4,500 rebate incentives are given to Americans to trade in their ancient eyesores of cars that pollute our roads and general environment. The official cut-off for qualifying lies with any automobile that’s still running, newer than 1984 models, and averages 18 MPG or less. The cars the campaign aimed for are typically worth around $4,500, so don’t feel too lucky. What happens is the old car is traded in (and eventually destroyed by the dealership) for its decrepit value, provided by the government-funded cash back rather than from the dealer--and this rebate can only be spent towards the purchase of any brand-new, more fuel-efficient car. To qualify, new automobiles must average 22 MPG or better, and be less than $45,000. The higher amount ($4,500) is dealt out if the new purchase is 10 MPG better than the previous car.

Sounds convincing enough at first glance, right?

At first glance, it could be considered a success. Many Americans drove their wheezing, gas-guzzling “clunkers” up to the car lot they had been eyeing for awhile, now even more motivated by that quadruple-digit cash back guarantee. The American populace was tapping into this in an undeniable way; it was an overwhelming hit. It was reported that the economy has, in fact, been stimulated by the massively-successful program, as Washington had hoped. Some even go as far as deeming this Obama’s greatest policy ever.

Okay...perhaps initially. But here are the facts in numerical form. CARS sparked a 2.2% increase at American-born Ford, the first year-to-year increase for the company in almost two years. However, American-based General Motors dropped 19% in sales compared to July 2008, even though sales have spiked 8% since this June. American Chrysler also reported loss at 9.4% this month, as drops were expected of all the American automakers. Foreign companies Toyota, Honda, and Nissan additionally fell in year-to-year sales. Besides Ford, only Korean automaker Hyundai actually went up in sales since last July, with its 12% increase.

Even with these solid statistics, there’s an issue: American automakers obviously have no gaping advantage, even with the huge helping hand of the oh-so-infallible American initiative, exhibited through CARS. When trading in their “clunkers,” Americans are mostly buying foreign-made vehicles with the "clunkers" incentive money: the most-sold in the U.S. this week were foreign-made Honda Civic’s and Toyota Corolla’s, Prius’s, and Camry’s (with the exception of the also popular and homegrown Ford Focus).

So there goes the whole “‘Clunkers’ is great for the economy!” myth. Ooh, sorry. Better luck next time!

While reading up on the subject, I came across something that Democrat Debbie Stabenow, U.S. Senator, said: “with over 200,000 cars sold, thousands of employees on the job serving customers...and sales tax income flowing into struggling states, CARS has injected money into communities across America.”

If you’re still reading this, allow me to dissect this statement, ladies and gents.

First of all, the “thousands of employees on the job serving customers” creates an annoying little blip on my radar. The last time I checked, the national average for unemployment was nearing double digits at 9.5% (June 2009); it’s probably safe to say that the American work force isn’t exactly flourishing right now. It’s also a little eluding to say that these car salesmen have such solid careers. In the week before CARS’ launch, these same now-bustling employees were undoubtedly dreading inevitable lay-offs their companies were making in massive amounts because they had--and still have--a diminishing income to pay their employees with.

Second of all, exactly where is this money flowing from? Obviously if national unemployment rates are nearing--and many states already are above--double digits, We The People just simply have no money to spend on new cars. That's really not so hard to compute. Also, with the economic state so terrible and banks so wary to give out loans for The People to buy said cars, there is definitely no way that citizens' finances can hold their heads above the current. Insurance rates are flying through the roof in a time of economic instability such as this, so making car payments and purchasing insurance is out of the question for The People, too.

“Cash for Clunkers” has pushed many to trade in their shabby old cars, get some cash for a better car and ultimately help out the economy and feel good about the environment while driving home, intoxicated by that new car smell. Kudos for that, America (if you can actually afford a brand-spankin'-new hybrid with the cost driven down ever-so-slightly).

However, many of the citizens who took advantage of this program are people who may not have been planning on trading in their cars and/or buying a better one this year. What this leads me to is the golden question: What’s next? What happens when the current $1 billion fund runs dry?

Well, Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood said Saturday on CBS, “Don’t worry. Go out and buy a car.”

Uh... Is that a direct order, sir?

The vital inquiry that these politicians can’t ignore now is that if the vast majority of Americans trade in their “clunkers” now to supposedly boost our economy, then who’s going to do it after they’re done? Without a promise of such a valuable rebate to keep the momentum, I’m going to go out on a limb here and guesstimate that these automakers will see the same turnout number the struggling auto industry had been receiving shortly before this program launched. This would translate into the aforementioned “stimulated” auto industry shrinking back into its previous ditch, bruising consumer confidence and--who saw this one coming?--our economy on its way back down.

Via Twitter, Democratic Senator Claire McCaskill said, “We simply cannot afford any more taxpayr $ to extend cash for clunkers. Idea was to prime the pump, not subsidize auto purchases forever.” (Yes, she spelled it "taxpayr," not taxpayer. Don't get too anxious; she's only from Missouri)

Agreed. Even if the Senate does give the House legislation the go-ahead for an additional $2 billion for CARS (which they probably will), I similarly ask: What’s next? Another $10 billion? When and where will Congress draw the line? What we face is the first half of our legislative branch giving the thumbs-up to spending excessive amounts of America’s tax revenue on endeavors that have no guaranteed result, nor are yielding anything significant once implemented. And remember that a stimulus is only the spark of an ensuing economic fire; as McCaskill tweets so eloquently, this was to give the business a boost, not hold them up until the government’s arms--or funding--ultimately became exhausted.

Apparently, our government doesn’t know how to fix this darned economy problem without draining the lint-filled pockets of its weary taxpaying citizens. It’s like that terribly apparent bug on your windshield that you’ve tried to windshield-wipe-off for weeks, but it just won’t go away.

But maybe, just maybe everything is actually going to work out dandily; American society doesn’t seem to get it yet either, so at least lord and vassal are on the same page. “To me, it’s a big waste of taxpayer money,” Alvin Lee, a California car shopper told CBS Radio. “But if it’s there, I’ll take it.”

Stimulating, indeed.

Relatedly, this video casts it in a bit of a funnier light. Freakin' baller:

Sheer Brilliance

Just putting that out there for y'all.

RIP MJ

I turn the key in the ignition, just to be blasted with the first...er, chords, of that infamous song with zombie werewolves and moon-walking all in the same video.

Normally, I’d be pissed to listen to the radio station my mom never remembers to turn down and turn off. But today, I actually find a big pit of what can be referred to as sadness inside of my 16-year-old heart. I find myself not only continuing to listen to the generic radio morning show, but also keeping the volume at an obnoxious decibel as they have an entire Michael Jackson marathon.

The previous evening--a day that shall be lived in infamy!--at the crisp age of 50, MJ, the King of Pop, succumbed to cardiac arrest.

At first, I received a Tweet saying that he was dead. I hopped up and flipped on CNN to witness Wolf Blitzer interviewing seemingly random and insignificant Joe Shmo’s of the MJ fan base. And at that time, the death had not been confirmed but by golly, they had pictures of his hospital transportation.

Well, within the hour TMZ (or the L.A. Times) confirmed that he was. Who trusts CNN anymore anyways?

I was moving furniture around and pasting glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling after my walls had been freshly painted a mint green. Maybe it’s just one of those moments that, in 20, 30 years, I’ll recall, “Oh, grandkiddies, when Michael Jackson died, I remember exactly what I was doing....” You know, a catastrophe on the same scale as 9/11.

But in all honesty, it was a pretty tragic day. Child molestation and abuse scandals and everything else aside, MJ was undoubtedly the King of Pop. And everybody loved him, from his debut as a little black boy with an enormous and powerful voice, to the era of his gloves and trademark glasses, all the way up until he died with white skin and relaxed hair in the beginning of the equally-evolving 21st century.

He’s filled a generation gap, or at least between my mom and I. Upon hearing about his death, she got nostalgic and opened up to me a bit. She told me she owned his vinyl record and his cassette tapes for her very first Walkman during college. We determined that “Billy Jean” was his greatest hit. These are things I never think about or even think to discuss with her; these things draw generations closer in many cases.

Most people, as they say, are more popular after their deaths. Well, maybe that’s just because death is like a filter, and we need to stand back to see the bigger picture. While the passing of such a phenomenon is undeniably a sad thing to see, it’s obviously inevitable that we’ll move on in our direct lives. Sometimes it just takes an incident like this to happen in order to connect the dots in a meaningful or relevant way, or to put valuable things in perspective.

#IranElection

With journalists and reporters being shot down and shut up, Iran’s common people have become the sole individuals documenting these historical events with a simple Tweet or snap of a cell phone camera. The Iranians are rising up in a pro-democratic and fair way; they’re utilizing a freedom of speech that only social networking can adequately supply. These people are so passionate about what they’re doing and why they’re doing it. There are plenty of reliable quotes in the newspaper and online from Iranians who just want a peaceful and righteous outcome--a happy ending that everybody wants to see happen in Iran.

And without these election protests being so publicized, the light may have never been shed on the situation for Iran’s global audience. To see a social networking site (see: Twitter) literally explode into a massive arena for international public posts, discussions and insight is more than amazing--it’s inspiring. This kind of situation gives hope to a future that will see even further technological innovations. This kind of situation proves the legitimacy of and necessity for social networking sites like Twitter. Because without this means of communication, Iranians wouldn’t even be able to present their struggle to the world in an accurate or meaningful way.

To watch a video of thousands of protesters donning green ensemble and shouting what they believe in their native tongue is compelling, for a lack of better word. The Iranian protesters are obviously extremely passionate in what they stand for. For a population so suppressed by their so-called “democratic process,” living their lives in such a vacuum, their courage to fight for their undeniable rights and suffrage is unbelievable. So often it seems as if these things are a given privilege; however, the Iranians must fight for these rights which they know they deserve, thus creating a unified adrenaline that makes the ultimate solution more significant for all involved.

Just look at what happened after a single day of protesting after the suspicious election--Supreme Leader (“Excellency”) Ayatollah Khamene called for a recount although he had already justified the impossible landslide in favor of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad as a divine appointment. And the protests haven’t stopped since then.

Endurance is a key for these people. And it’s evident that they possess this characteristic; protesters in the streets don’t go home and shut their doors in fear because the Basij militia and other police forces try to break them up and tear them down. No, these people have something so valuable inside them that they’ve tapped into and they simply can’t let it go. They know that authentic democracies exist, and they know that through oppositional candidates like leader Mir Hossein Mousavi this process might actually be possible.

The Iranians’ peaceful protests put them on a solid common ground with contemporary activists and common citizens in Western societies, as well as throwing everything into an entirely new perspective. And in order to preserve that common ground, Westerners are striving to help Iranians in any way possible, with sites like “Simple Ways to Help Iranian Free Speech (http://reunifygally.wordpress.com/2009/06/17/help-iran),” and blogs with “How-To’s” discussing anything relevant to Iranian life, ranging from useful proxy Web sites to get around government-enforced blocks to medical procedures for gunshot wounds and infections.

It’s also astonishing to see the aforementioned process of proxy usage to help Iranians maneuver around government-blocked Web pages. Outsiders are willfully using their computers in an innovative and, for once, useful way; rather than hosting games and/or otherwise useless things on their desktops, they are providing an unmarked and untraced destination for Iranians with a voice to send their words to be sent back into the global society’s uncensored Internet.

Clearly, Western society and Middle Eastern traditions lie on respective sides of the cultural spectrum, but that is hardly the issue at stake here. Americans, Europeans as well as others around the globe are all rallying for Iranian justice to be served--this is obvious through the rising-by-the-second amount of Tweets and Hash Tags referring to the Iranian election protests with a slight fondness. The small glimpse of Iran’s current state evoked a yearning to serve from Westerners that most had never felt before.

What must be known in these times is that right now, it isn’t about Muslims or Christians or Jews or any racial divisions to be made; it’s about giving the Iranians that needed aid in whatever their urgent plight may require. And if it isn’t possible to take action, then the least Westerners can do is lose the ignorance toward Iran and its people and listen to what these pro-democratic Iranians have to say (or tweet).

"What can we say about such wonderful things as these?

If God is with us, who can ever be against us?" -Romans 8:31

I've been reading the book of Romans so much lately. It's just so relevant to where I am right now. So many verses are popping out at me and I feel like I just can't get enough of His word. It's the guidance I need right now, and it's honestly the sole thing that's keeping my head above water.

Reading more in-depth about life in the Spirit and the glory we are to share with Him is revitalizing, to say the least. There was a lot thrown at me these past two days, but I've been able to cope more beautifully than I've ever thought possible. I've put my burdens at the foot of His cross, where the belong and where they are cast down.

"Our old sinful selves were crucified with Christ so that sin might lose its power in our lives." (6:6)

I think today was really significant. I let His love and His clarity pour through my heart, mind, and soul like a river. Normally, I'm a pretty negative person; but today I woke to a new sun that burnt bright, through my skin and into the open windows of my core. I don't find it a coincidence I've been reading the same encouragements in Romans 8:6--"If your sinful nature controls your mind, there is death. But if the Holy Spirit controls your mind, there is life and peace."

I'm trying really hard to let the weights of this world fall to the ground. I've always been a pretty nonchalant personality, but I'm striving to literally be like that old comeback: "I am rubber, you are glue. What bounces off me sticks to you." 

Because I'm realizing more clearly that Jesus Christ is truly and really the only one who can ever judge me, therefore His will should be what I follow blindly. When I trust in Him, my problems will fall away and He will occupy the parts of my heart that bleed. I've been prophesying to a couple of close friends that He is the band-aid, and things to that effect. And it's almost ironic how well I can ignore what comes out of my own mouth. But now, I see it all, in the grand scheme of things. It all makes so much sense now.

So now that I'm secure in the place that I stand at this moment in time, my prayer is for endurance, endurance, endurance. I pray to my Lord that I can fly over any hurdle and grow in faith with Him as I do so. I pray for mental and spiritual agility to dodge whatever the enemy throws at me, and for His will to be revealed to me in order that I chase actively after a long-term goal.

"We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they are good for us--they help us learn to endure." --Romans 5:3

When was this concept put in my heart

that friends were something constant and secure?

If anything, I've already gone through enough "BFF's" to last a whole lifetime. So why does it pain me so much when those of this world turn the other cheek? Why do I feel so alone in a world where it's always ultimately been my own two hands holding myself together?

As I grow more, I'm realizing that absolutely nothing in this world is permanent, no matter how much we believe it to be. Forever is nothing other than a void of time that I plan on spending with my Savior Jesus Christ. But it's hard to realize this in my heart, day-to-day.

Self-isolation has been my comfort zone for sixteen years. I can honestly say I've been my best friend for the past sixteen years. And you know, maybe that's perfectly fine. God has made this His will for a reason, and I trust it. I'm even starting to contemplate that He did this so that I may accept His love more fully and quickly.

Because He's been there, and always will be. Until recent times, I haven't been able to open these veiled eyes or clean out these ignorant ears to see/hear Him in my life. And now, I fall on my knees in worship of Him and in desperate need of His love. My weak, broken body and spirit trembles as I push towards Him, like I never could have imagined possible.

I've never thought much about an infallible love. I never really considered the fact that real love is forever, and never wavers. But now that I've seen Him, now that I feel Him inside of my heart, ripping out the weeds and planting His seeds of benefit, and now that I positively know Him, I couldn't seek any other worldly relationship before His. Like the As Cities Burn song says, "I've got a will but I want Yours." More than ever before, and quite possibly more than I'll need ever again.

You see, I'm at this vital fork in the road. I'm very far off from adulthood, but past childhood. So now, I have a choice to either grow up in the light of Christ, or mature in the darkness of sin. And just like a flower, I'm growing and yearning towards the light that I feed off of, the very light that restores me and gives me unlimited energy and nurturing. I just don't want the clouds to come and cover up my sun.

So my prayer is that I can walk a path separate from that of this realm in order that I can be a part of His. Because I have been good friends with loneliness; sometimes it can be a healthy escape. But there is absolutely nothing worse than being alone, and looking through the glass at Him and His love so plentiful that it will never run out.

Time

I'm realizing right now more than ever that time is one of the most valuable concepts.

It takes time to be happy. It takes time to be sad. And time is the envelope that everything is sealed in.

I'm realizing that I need to embrace the fact that patience IS a virtue, regardless of how long it has taken me to agree with this.

I'm growing, and this absorbs time as well. everything I am experiencing right now is purely for me to extract lessons from. And that's how the rest of my life will play out, I'm sure.

I'm growing up, but I'm not naive enough to call myself mature. I doubt I could ever come to claim this.

Last night, I talked for what seemed like hours with Taylor about this. And how we're on the right path by actually thinking, rather than thinking about the concept of though.

Perhaps this doesn't make sense to anyone else, but I know where I am and I'm content with it. I feel as if I'm standing on a hill, and I can't see over the next big hill into the future, but I am reflecting on what I just experienced, as well as the distant past.

I'm happy with what God has revealed to me, and I've realized that this too takes time to unfold itself completely into my life. 

For now, I'm going to hold Jesus' hand into wherever He may lead me. I'm learning to trust again, and even grasping the concept of love in a new sense.

I thank God for getting me here, and I praise Him for the promise of a new day, a new chance to be His servant. I'm glad to finally be the personification of His hands doing His work, His tongue mouthing His words.

All in all, I'm honestly doing great at the end of the day.

Whirling...(mine)

I breathe in the aroma of nonchalant sweat and fried chicken,

wafting through the white doors,

as I sit further away on cold concrete.

It's a happy party with a celebration of hearts;

they encourage that it's a time to be merry,

but I just can't bring myself to partake.

As I look to the cold stars millions of years away,

awe is the last sentiment welling up inside of me.

Initially it's hard to realize but it comes: "I am alone,"

Somehow, I grasp that this is something I have always known,

even for awhile now, to be exact.

I exhale a weak, worthless laugh

Is it not ironic how just one memory can overtake your thought process,

in just enough time to draw a few short breaths?

Tears drag my efforts from my face.

I tried, alright?

What more could anyone ask for?

I just can't stay inside there, not any more.

Friendly words next to me barely penetrate.

Pain can never be compared, or ever viewed the same

because nobody really understands what I feel like,

as in the background, another slow song changes unnoticeably.

It's just seeing two generations dancing as one.

I never had that opportunity,

and this is where my "pushed-behind-me" memories

come into a very active play.

The strong, storybook father was never a part of my past or present

and I'm done deceiving myself that it will somehow squeeze its way into my future.

I'm only sitting here, outside in the cold,

in a dress and in heels, with make-up staining my jowl,

because I just want that impossible chance

for my Daddy and I to have our first dance...

The Poet's Husband

"He sits in the front row, large, a large man with large hands and large ears, dry lips, fresh-cut hair, pink skin, clear eyes that don't blink, a nice man, calm, that's the impression he gives, a quiet man who knows how to listen; he is listening now as she sways on the stage in a short black dress and reads one poem about the time she slit her wrists and another poem about a man she still sees and a third poem about a cruel thing he himself said to her six years ago that she never forgot and never understood, and he knows that when she is finished everyone will clap and a few, mostly women, will come up and kiss her, and she will drink far too much wine, far too quickly, and all the way home she will ask, "What did you think, what did you really thing?" and he will say, "I think it went very well"--which is, in fact, what he does think--but later that night, when she is asleep he will lie in their bed and stare at the moon through a spot on the glass that she missed"

-Molly Giles

"It's a miracle what a male can do to a female. its as if they let out a tune that just makes a girl turn into someone they never thought they could be. Jealous, insanity, unpensive; it's quite irritating really.
It's as if they're Sirens from The Odyssey. They draw you out of the boat only to lead you to your death." - Shannon Blendowski.

the hardest part to accept

is probably that after all this time, you still don't recognize my voice on the phone

and that you feel I treated you like shit when you were the one who had to go the extra mile

it's just unbelievable.

not sure

whether it's better to know

or just never go there

Copeland speaks my mind right about now

"You don't have to be ashamed
'Cause you're a miracle through and through
Oh, and you don't have to be ashamed
Of the miracle inside of you

What has love become?
It's not like we used to hear in those old songs
And it's not like yours
What has love become?

Whoa, your love is in motion
And it's spinning me around, yeah
Whoa, my heart is in motion
For the movement that's in you

You should not be angry
If all she wants is your money
Oh, you should not be angry
'Cause all you want is her body

What has love become?
It's not like we used to hear in those old songs
And it's not like yours
What has love become?

Whoa, your love is a fast song
And I'm dancing 'cause I'm loved again
Whoa, my heart is in motion
For the rhythm inside you
Whoa, your love is a slow song
It's resounding through my world again
Whoa, my heart is in motion
For the song inside of you

Whoa, your love is in motion
And it's spinning me around, yeah
Whoa, your love is a fast song
And I'm dancing 'cause I'm loved again
Whoa, your love is a slow song
It's resounding through my world again
Whoa, my heart is in motion
For the song inside of you"

Apparently

it's old-fashioned to meet people halfway, it's not right to make an effort despite what you say. Apparently, glasses are never just half-empty or half-full, they're either overflowing or deserted completely. Because nobody anymore gives a care about the human race.

Apparently, all we are capable of anymore is gazing in a broken mirror at our redesigned face, in the light of a fate that simultaneously decides itself, because karma is a bitch and when we can't discern tolerance from hate, our future that was so bright so short a time ago, will be justifiably erased.

Apparently, we're at a place in world history where we shield solely what we believe in. Which these days, proves how our society is a place of virtue that has become far too thin. Or maybe it isn't personal principles we protect, but just our individual selves. This is why secrets emerge and tear us apart. And when division is applied to the equation of mankind, we are shown blatantly that people are selfishly single-minded and don't mind to lie

. .. i wish that made more sense.

Oh, you

whenever I sing songs speaking of "love" or break-ups and that sort, I always feel extremely attached to the relatable, impersonal "you" figure at whom the song is directed towards

I've never loved. And therefore, I can hardly say that I've lost.

but somehow I feel the need to blast angry break-up songs when I think of him. and certain lyrics remind me of certain, past guys I've had things with.

Maybe this is normal, maybe it isn't

but I hate how pathetic I appear and feel because of this tendency

regardless of personal preference

today is one of the greatest days in our history, just accept it

Francoise Sagan = genius

"A strange melancholy pervades me to which I hesitate to give the grace and beautiful name of sorrow. The idea of sorrow has always appealed to me but now I am almost ashamed of its complete egoism. I have known boredom, regret, and occasionally remorse, but never sorrow. Today it envelops me like a silken web, enervating and soft, and sets me apart from everybody else."

I'm glad I read Bonjour Tristesse today. and I'm glad I read No one belongs here more than you yesterday. Those two books are currently sinking into my thoughts like quicksand, and it's helping me although it doesn't first appear that way.

I'm feeling extreme loneliness these past few days. I think I ended things with him and I wasn't really fully ready to, and I was immature about it. I know that this isn't going to raise from the dead. But there's that part of my subconscious that's really, really hoping and planning on the idea that it will.

I just want to feel carefree again. It always seems as if I'm grasping for this figure in my life that I've always envisioned at my side although I've never had him, and I have no idea what mutual caring really even is. I've been eluding myself this entire time, and how i feel now is the product of all that's been piled upon my small, insignificant shoulders.

I just need a healthy way out. And a will to keep on keepin' on...which seems impossible from this vantage but I know I can.

I am

the tea light in the black hole.

I took this title for my blog from a short, forgotten piece I wrote awhile back and I understand now why it means so much to me.

i have so much potential to push out the darkness in my house, my school, my city, my country. I can change the world.

I haven't felt like this in so long and I'm just welcoming it with open arms.

I have my life in place. I know what matters, and this will serve as a future reminder to myself of what I am and what I need to continue to be:

I am a follower of my Lord Jesus Christ and I forever will be. He is the only one who can fulfill me this way. No one else comes even close to where He and I stand, nobody can touch us.

I will cry out as long as I live that I am fully His. I will forever recognize that Jesus died for my sins, for my redemption. He gave His life so that I, and insignificant, unworthy sinner, could be saved. He loves me. And that's what matters most to me now, and hopefully forever.

So when our wandering brothers and sisters sin, when I am being tugged to the end of my rope, if I ever again fail in the forgiving eyes of my Savior, when the darkness of our society descends upon my vision, engulfing my life, I'm going to pull Him out from inside of me and use it as my tea light in this black hole.

boats n hoes!

Good Time Max

Max: Even the most seemingly random events have logic behind them. As far as my life goes, I know exactly what I'm doing. Geniuses don't make mistakes, they just instigate their own problems so that they could be worked out with deeper insight. 

Old Addict: Chaos is harder to embrace.. it's scarier thinking there's no one out there lookin' out for us. 

Max: Just smoke, man

I made my new years resolution

gonna stop making an effort that'll just be lost on its receiver

gonna stop with this whole letting myself get my hopes wayy high up

don't press my face to the floor and call it a ceiling

first day back at school today and i guess it couldn't have been any better. not that i was anticipating some great day, i mean come on, it's school for Christ's sake.

I guess I've realized how near impossible it is for me to move, to think, and to just breathe in the environment I'm in at my school.

I'm surrounded by a void of creativity and a lack of wanting to learn. Everybody is just moaning and groaning about their lackluster grades when they don't even try and when they sign up for bullshit classes, and I'm really sick of listening to that crap.

People call me lucky for my straight A's, but that's because I work my butt off to put myself in the academic place that I'm in.

See, I have goals and aspirations and unlike most that I'm surrounded by, I'm actively chasing these things. I want to go somewhere in life and I'm not gonna whine when I know I'm not giving a single effort.

I'm just sick of people surrounding me with their negativity. My school has this "ughhh" atmosphere and I mean honestly, or at least for me, school isn't all that bad except for having to wake up early.. I actually enjoy most of my classes and even if I don't, I still try my very hardest to do well in them. 

I just really wanna get outta this small, twat town so I can start living a better life. This is as good as it gets around here, but I want more than what I'm enclosed in

M83 clip that's staying with me:

"I'm going to jump the walls and run
I wonder if they'll miss me?
I won't miss them
The cemetery is my home
I want to be a part of it
Invisible even to the night
Then I'll read poetry to the stones
Maybe one day I could be one of them
Wise and silent
Waiting for someone to love me
Waiting for someone to kiss me
I'm fifteen years old
And I feel it's already too late to live
..Don't you?"

shit hits the fan

and I can't ever seem to escape it