Ignorance is...?

I don't think I have ever nor will I ever again experience pain like this one--sucking at my chest, collapsing my lungs, shredding my veins. My voice disappears, and my balance wavers, so I try to hold myself up against the door frame, but I can't look away. It's awful but morbid, so I just keep staring, watching, until my eyes blur with tears.

The man I thought I loved, kissing my best friend.

My mind reels so desperately I can't quite put two and two together, but I force myself to do so because I'm sickly masochistic, and somehow I will find a way to blame myself for this.

Instead of feeling enraged, I despair because I realize neither is at fault- I am. She had no idea we were dating; I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want our relationship to be broadcast to the world and subject to the spotlight. He must've resented me for that, and she's so beautiful and outgoing and their chemistry is pretty outstanding while I'm-

at fault. This is my fault. I'm ugly and boring; how could I have possibly even imagined holding his attention? I'm stupid, even more so for believing such a lie.

For what feels like minutes but must only be seconds, she returns his kiss; neither is aware of my presence in the door way, so I back away quietly, trying to smile, to hold it together. No one has to know that I saw this. I'll casually tell him our relationship isn't going to work out, but then I'll say I bet she'd be interested. I'll pretend like I have no idea about their feelings for each other, like I'm giving chipper advice.

But I'll always remember how I fell for it, how I believed I could ever exceed her. She looks even greater when she's next to me; I'm just her foil, her means of comparison. They should be together; I shouldn't have interfered.

Ok, then. Instead of waiting to break up with him, I'll get it over with now. I stomp back down the stairs, singing, making a lot of noise so they know I'm here. Now they're just talking, but I can see now that their body language is more intimate than they realize. I call him over to speak in private, tell him exactly what I said I'd say.

I walk away, but before I leave I hear, "Well, I guess this was meant to be then, wasn't it?" followed by what I guess is another kiss.

I try to avoid letting the door hit me on the way out.

A Glimpse Into A World Unlike My Own

I keep thinking about how you told me that he was in a knife fight recently. I keep thinking about how incredibly interesting that would have been, whether I was a spectator or another fighter. Then I start wondering why it happened, how often it happens, where do you keep the knife, how many times have you gripped it only to realize you were not in danger, or how many times didn't you swing it fast enough.

And what about you, the girl who spends what seems like hours applying makeup. Don't you know you are beautiful, with or without the makeup? I wonder what your wound is, what you're trying to hide or make up for with glorious shades and blushes.

Fascinating. I hope to meet you both again; I'd like to learn more. My observations may not be keen, in which case I want to ask that you clarify, but these words stick between my teeth, and they refuse to exit my imagination and enter reality.

That Which Was Once Resilent Becomes Softened

First time seeing you again in however many years. (I kept saying four, but I think you're right, maybe it was three. Then again, if I was hittin' up summer college stuff, maybe it was only two.) You're definitely the same. Well, there are some changes, some differences, but our personalities have remained in tact. It was like we picked up right where we left off, something that both surprised me yet didn't.

Yeah, I'll probably come over tomorrow. I'm glad this is working out.

What, February already? Nope, just Summer Flings

The other day, I was watching Lemonade Mouth, one of Disney Channel's original movies, with a friend. There's this one scene with this kid Wen (whom I happened to have in a couple of my classes and thereby am famous by association) and his father; Dad plans to marry Girlfriend Sydney and tells Wen this. Wen isn't happy about this because no one could ever replace his mother, especially not his dad's girlfriend, whom he's come to demonize, but in reality she's perfectly alright (typical kid reaction to potential new parent). When Wen asks why Dad is marrying Sydney, Dad replies, "Because she makes me happy."

...For real? That's your answer? The more I thought about it, the more I realized this is a typical answer for that question.

And it's a pretty stupid answer.

So she makes you happy. I'm assuming your statement means she consistently makes you happy, all day, every day, all the time. She never pisses you off? Ever? Like, you've never gotten into a fight where you've desperately wanted to tear each other's hair out? I call b.s.

So what if she makes you happy? A LOT OF PEOPLE make you happy. Clearly your son does; you're not thinkin' about marrying him too are you? 'Cuz that might get awkward.

That answer needs to be expanded. You can't tell me you're only gonna marry a person because he makes you happy. What does that even mean? HOW does she make you happy? What does he do when you're upset or depressed? There has to be something else, some other reason.

"Well, I love him/her." Um, ok? And? Wait, that's it? Marriage is hardcore; you better be friggin' sure you can handle that mess, that weight, that COMMITMENT. Yeah, I said it- CUH-MIT-MEANT. I'm pretty sure you're in that "in love" stage in which you think this individual is perfect, amazing, and stupendous. Now, is any of that necessarily wrong to think? Of course not. But you must realize that this person is human and therefore
 fails at something at some level at some point; this person probably pisses you off at some point.

What do your arguments reveal about your characters? I'm a firm believer in members of a relationship fighting. Am I talking abuse? Of course not. But words will be said, actions will be taken, and feelings will get hurt. I think that's great for a relationship. It means real issues are surfacing and need to be dealt with accordingly. It gives each member a chance to say, "Wow, can I really handle someone like this?" Then they go at it again to work it out or eventually dissipate the relationship. Fights are a great tool for understanding perspectives and how to correct grievances made against those perspectives.

So for the "love" of all that is sane, please come up with a better excuse than "she makes me happy" unless you want me to go ballistic on your illogical reasoning.

What are your reasons?

Quality Time

"You first," I urged.

"Oh no," he sighed. "Ok, well, there were several." After deliberating for a moment, his tone brightened, "Oh, I know. Alright, remember when we were out getting groceries so you could, ah, delight us all with your cooking?"

I elbowed him in the side. "Shut up! You said yourself it was a great meal!"

Chuckling, he continued, "You and I split up, and when I finally found you again, you were in the office supplies section, just staring in wonder as though you'd never seen paper before."

My face reddened, and I was suddenly glad we were sitting back to back. "I told you then, and I'll say it again now-"

"I know, I know, let me finish," he said between laughs. I huffed and rammed myself into his back. "Let me paint this picture for you the way I saw it. You were standing there like a child, your guard was down, your awe was evident by the sparkling in your eyes, and I knew you were trying to think of uncommon ways to use all of those supplies in your crafts. It was one of the first times I'd ever seen you express unrestrained joy. For a moment, the veil parted so your beauty became clear to me. Then you noticed me, and instead of trying to pull your guard back up, you said very sheepishly, 'Have I ever told you how much I like office supplies?' At the time I really wanted to kiss you, but I settled for saying-"

"'No, you haven't. You're so strange,'" I finished while I chuckled. "Yeah, I remember that. Geez, I felt like a total geek after that."

"I thought you were rather adorable."

"I'm kinda glad you didn't kiss me right then and there. We weren't exactly dating then, so I would've been super confused and probably suffered a heart attack."

We laughed against each other until I finally said, "Ok, so I first realized you were the hottest man alive when-"

"Oh no." I felt his head fall into his hand as he nervously chuckled. Good naturedly embarrassing him is always a plus for me.

I continued, "You and your brothers were outside plucking weeds and doing yard work. Let me, uh, paint the picture for you. It's hot outside. Like, blazing hot. You guys are sweaty, shirtless, but look like you're having a jolly ole time. I step outside to take you guys a pitcher of icy water when, lo and behold, the, ah, veil parts, and I notice you are ridiculously handsome even when you're sweaty and stinky, and some not-so-pure thoughts run through my head." I feel him shaking his head as though he either doesn't believe a word I'm saying, or he is very embarrassed by the way I'm telling this story; I'm hoping it's the second one, and I'm almost wishing it were possible to see him blush.

"Anyways, I back inside the house to let my heart pound a bit and compose myself. Then I enter the backyard again with a loud shout so I know all of you notice me so I don't fall back into your spellbinding daze again. I mean, I always knew you were cute, but this was the first time I realized how frickin' sexy you are."

His face must have been in his hands because his speech was muffled. "You are ridiculous."

"Oh, don't be modest. You're fine, and you know it."

"Ridiculous. So ridiculous. I can't even- there are no words to describe how I feel right now."

I laughed and relaxed against him. "Is it that weird for me to call you sexy? Because you definitely are."

"You know when I call you bel in front of your friends, and they ask what it is I'm saying, so with beaming pride I tell them, but you put on this mask so you can hide your embarrassment?"

I was quiet for a moment before uttering a small, "Oh." Another second later I amended, "But that's different!"

With a heavy sigh, he fell into laughter, and soon after, I followed suit.

Controversy: You Think Love is Easy?

For the sake of getting my philosophical writings out of my notebook and onto the computer, I hope to transcribe and elaborate some of the debates I've been having with myself, Papa, and the general public.

Here's to the first of several entries about love.

We were having a question and answer session at youth group about homosexuality, and my thoughts were still reeling before I tried to go to sleep. So here are some rationalizations of mine, both written that night and further considered as I type, sprinkled with the debate at youth.

~*~

Homosexuality--how do we as Christians explain why it is wrong? Because "the Bible says so?" Yeah, great, but why? Why does the Bible call it wrong?

A good friend brought up the point that he can't imagine how God could judge someone based on how they were born.

Paul tries to defend this kind of answer towards the beginning of Romans while he talks about predestination and God choosing whom He loves based on what colonists called sovereign will. While I can't really understand Paul's answer, I'm hoping to look into it more once I get my hands on a Bible commentary for Romans.

Our panel of pastors and in-house-missionary replied that everyone is born into sin, because sin is permanent in this life until Christ's return revolutionizes everything, and everyone has a different weakness which can develop into a chaining habit of sin.

Then the good friend said that gays don't choose whom they are attracted to, just like he doesn't choose to be straight. To which our panel answered that virtually no one chooses to sin. They just do. I rationalize this as follows: I don't consciously say to myself, "Yeah, you know what, I am gonna break God's law by taking that candy bar, and I don't care that I'm sinning. I want it, so I'm doing it."

In fact, I think very few people consider their actions as sin; instead, they justify them or label them less offensively. If we really thought about our wrong actions as sin, I think we'd be less likely to do them. Think about it. Just that word sin. Kinda makes me shiver. Instead I'll think about stealing as a "bad action God will forgive anyways." Yeah, gives me less of a sickening, convicted feeling in my gut.

The panel replied that while few, if any, homosexuals say to themselves "You know what, Imma try hitting on my own gender and have sex with that person and see how that goes," they do choose to entertain those thoughts, then act on them, just like straights choose to survey that hot person then jack off or have sex with him/her. In which case, the brief thoughts are not entirely the problem nor are they necessarily the sin; running with those thoughts instead of making each thought and action captive to Christ is the real issue.

Thinking about this homosexuality issue brought me back to my next big thought--unconditional love. The way I see it, homosexuality is sexual immorality just like cheating affairs, masturbation, lust, and so on. The reason I think it's such a battle between opinions boils down to love versus lust, both of which are tied into our inherent sin natures and our spiritual rebirths.

Love is meant to be unconditional no matter what relationship setting you put it in. Romantic, parental, friendly, family, whatever. Love is corrupted, however, as soon as we're birthed from the womb. Even after we are reborn, love struggles against lust--the flesh, the sinful man we leave behind yet hounds us. Because we're human, we confuse the two, serve two masters, "love" impurely, whether we "love" ourselves and masturbate, "love" others and have sex with them, or "love" our fantasies and create idols, all of which are mentally fed further through different media: porn, erotic literature, movies, or even our own strange thoughts. Pick your poison.

I think the real issue across the board, homosexual or heterosexual, is this wire cross. We rarely, if ever, love each other, no matter the relationship. We almost always hold grudges, become impatient, selfish, controlling, jealous, and fall prey to our deceitful hearts. (Which, as another youth group member brought up, even if we love the Lord our God with our whole hearts, Jeremiah tells us our hearts are incredibly deceitful; thus, we may even "love" God without realizing.)

If we can't even fathom the love Christ had--has--for us by dying on our crosses for our sins when we nailed Him there, spit on Him, and mocked Him, how do we expect to love each other? I think most of our relationships, romantic or not, are founded on lust, the "natural," sin-natured, twisted version of love.

But as Christians, I feel every once in awhile our true God given heart shines through, and we love inexplicably, unconditionally. But most times, the sin nature bites back, and now our "love" again becomes self-centered.

So how do we correct this? What do we do? Well, here's to finding those answers, practicing what we preach, and living in love instead of lies.

I feel like our society needs a serious makeover regarding love. Love is not always sex, nor is it always happiness, sunshine, and ponies. Love is frickin' hardcore. Take it or leave it, fight for it, step up to the plate; it'll change you, grow you, and REVOLUTIONIZE you. I mean, come on, Love is even in the word revolution. It's backwards, but how fitting since that's our perception of it.

What do you think?

Let's Get Started

I've been thinking about love a lot recently. Been journaling it, trying to study it in the Word, but I keep coming back to 1 Corinthians 13. I think I've come to several conclusions. Unfortunately, one of them is the futility, fruitlessness, and pointlessness in loving at all. I think that's the one that bothers me so much. We are human; therefore, we are fallible. While we have access to unconditional love, we will screw it up. Often.

I think that's why I've become terrified of marriage. At the same time, I've come to terms with it if it is in The Plan (which it's totally likely it isn't, which I think I'm okay with as long as I have Something in The Plan to commit time to). There is love, no doubt about that; I have seen it overcome, seen its power, so much so that I felt ashamed to look upon such intimacy. I have seen her embrace upon his return early in the morning; in his eyes, I have seen the hardened resolve at her fate, yet relieved joy in the thought of seeing her again after death.

I have known much of what people call love, but they are often sadly mistaken. "Maybe this time," "maybe this guy," "oh, this is different." Yeah, but are you certain? Are you loving for yourself? If so, you're not loving at all.

I have learned love shows itself in many different forms. Just because I do not frequently speak with a person does not mean our relationship is nonexistent. Just because I often speak to someone does not mean our relationship exists.

Ahhh, I haven't stretched my philosophical fingers to type in a long time. Here's to more updates, some more of what I've learned, and maybe some more of what I've created.

Entertaining Strange Possibilities

Geez, it's weird thinking back. I don't have any references to our stories anymore--"The Thing" as we dubbed it, since we could never figure out a name for it. I can't really remember the last time we had contact before this last incident. I remember we decided to be civil but that didn't hold apparently. Haha, my fault really; most of our problems were my fault.

But I don't feel such overwhelming guilt anymore. I've grown, changed, found new problems to tackle, and I get the feeling you'd say the same. MAN, what I wouldn't give to talk to you. I know we'd talk for hours and hours; if only I had an entire day of free time, remembered your number, and had the courage to follow through, we have so much to catch up on.

What are you doing now? I know you didn't walk at graduation. You probably have no idea that I know that. I'm fairly certain you're working and not in college. If you don't perfect your craft, your talent, I will call you on it (maybe; again that courage thing). Maybe school's not your thing; fine, just don't regret it several decades from now.

I don't really remember the whole process, the exact details to how we unraveled. I remember bitterness and hatred; I've gotten over it. Why not you? Why am I the center of your universe? What an ugly world I must create for you. Losing your sanity, mental instability- I will not be able to befriend you until you let me go. What are you expecting? Me to center you, to balance you? I can't do that; that's not in my power. I have no authority to validate you. Only He does.

Oh, Lord, show her Your Light, Your Love. Become her Center, Purpose, Meaning. Only then will You be able to repair her, repair us. I would like to be friends again; I miss her dearly, miss hearing from her. I miss who she truly is, not this version, twisted by anger, wearing a mask to hide the gaping wound.

Lord, do what You do best- Your work.

Have Faith, Young One

I'm exhausted out of my mind, but I can't sleep because the pain is so incredible. I try not to show it since I know he's hurting much worse than I am, but he refuses to show it. He's fascinatingly strong, mentally, emotionally, physically; his endurance is remarkable. Guess that's how he put up with me for so long before we embarked on this crazy mission.

"Hey," he whispers. I don't want to give away the fact that I haven't been sleeping, but I've been fidgeting too much to have played it off.

"How's the pain?" I ask.

He laughs, and I'm surprised at how natural it sounds; it almost makes me forget we're locked in this cell, chains around our ankles and wrists. "Nothing He didn't take. If they decide to crucify me, then I'll be afraid."

I chuckle. "Idiot." I reach for his hand in the dark, and his closes around mine. "How are you not in pain? Not terrified?"

"We knew we were getting into this; we knew when we were married when come here, rebuild my home, strengthen it, all to glorify the Kingdom. We prepared for rejection, hatred, betrayal, and torture. Besides, aren't you the girl who told me when we were dating that you have a strange fixation for battle scars?" I laugh while pressing my lips to one of his newest scars on his hand. "That's my girl." After coming together in an embrace, he asks, "Are you afraid?"

"I'm okay with dying," I say, "but I'm horrified that they'll kill you and let me go."

"Don't be concerned with that. We'll always be together, whether we're alive or in heaven. Death can't part us, not forever. Focus on our Savior, do His work, love our persecutors. Stop focusing on me, on our escape. If we live, we live. If I die, I die. If you die, I will mourn, but I will move on for the greatest good. I know you'll do the same."

"You're awfully confident in me."

"Not you, particularly. Spirit will support you, will hold you up, hold you together, explode your growth. You are the branch, forever connected to the Livegiver, the vessel filled with His power, bought by His blood, meant to serve."

A stitch in my side causes me to intake breath, and I feel his chest heave as he coughs up dried blood stuck in his throat. Although I'm in so much pain right now, and I hate this weird position the chains force me into, I don't let go. "Vessels," I murmur. "Okay then. Let's take the pain with everything we've got. They brought it down on Brother; guess we should be honored to receive half as much."

"That's the spirit."

A pause then I smirk. "I think you're secretly a masochist."

"Just ever dependent on Papa to bring me through, whether to complete a purpose here or live at His side. I'm ok wherever He wants me."

His voice drifts into a gentle whisper, and I'm relieved that he will sleep. I hold him close to me, waiting to protect, to hold, to support. "Mwen renmen ou." I feel him smile against my neck.

"I love you, too."

This I Solemnly Swear

The taste of copper shocks my body as I feel blood drip over my lips. Coughing, I force it out of my throat, red spraying the ground.

"Kote yo ye?"

I don't answer, not because it hurts to exhale the words or my throat is raw despite its recent coating of blood; I hold silence because I am defiant.

"Si ou pa di nou kote yo ye, nou pral touye ou."

I know you will, I almost say, but I remember my silence, my vow.

"Nou pral touye mari ou tou."

I know. My eyes mist over, and I try not to imagine the soldiers murdering him. Separating us was wise; they know of our love for each other; they know I am weaker without him. But I've promised. I have sworn I will never forsake my King and His kingdom, even if this defiance kills my husband--my heart, my flesh, my soul along with him.

I will survive though I wish upon wish, pray and pray, that I will die, and he will live. I fear my uselessness, my apathy, my bitterness will rise up again in me when my link to this world is shattered.

Suddenly my shackles rattle as the soldiers yank me to my feet. Knees shaking, I try to find support again the stone wall of my prison, but the soldiers swing a staff at my head, and my vision blurs. I pray that I black out, so I will not have to endure further torture for the night.

If only I were so blessed.


[English Translations]
"Where are they?"
"If you do not tell us where they are, we will kill you."
"We will kill your husband too."

Iron Sharpens Iron

After discussing religion versus relationship in devos tonight, I think I had an epiphany. Religion is trying to reach God on one's own; relationship is letting the Lord reach the person. We release control, stop trying to do everything ourselves, stop trying to rectify our brokenness. Because we broke the relationship back in Eden, we're trying to reconcile it ourselves. We broke it, so we want to correct it.

But we can't. When we broke it, we were conscious of our decision, perfect up until that instant. Now we're imperfect, unable to reach Papa ourselves because we constantly screw up, despite our actions and good intentions.

We can't do good just because we think it'll score us brownie points with the Creator. We do good because, well, because that's who we're meant to be, meant to glorify Christ because we have been saved, made perfect once again.

But our good deeds weren't what made Jesus say, "You know, they deserve to be saved. Ok, you're a good kid, so I will die for you." If we were so good, we wouldn't need retribution. We do good deeds because He did the ultimate good deed, the most pure, altruistic deed. After we betrayed Him, He shed His blood when we whipped him, took our insults, took our cackling and mockery as He died in sheer agony. He took the spear through the side, took the nails we drove into His hands and feet, sneering because we thought we were doing a good deed. We thought we were preserving peace, using social justice.

But we were wrong--again. Surprise, surprise. Luckily, we were wrong to think He'd just stay dead. Instead He forgave us, welcomed us home, and gave us His Spirit to do good deeds. But these deeds are immeasurable; they don't give us more grace, more mercy, more forgiveness, more "good karma" to store up so we can do something heinous and evil.

His Spirit inspires us to do good for good's sake--intrinsic motivation. Because He did good first, He loved first, He died first. We want to follow that example because He did those things to and for us first. Now we want to make everyone else feel this inexplicable joy, overwhelming love, and passion for the adventure.

Do it to it.

Division

I stand pressed against the glass wall dividing us. Our hands reach for each other's against the glass. My forehead is creased, pressed to the window, and my teeth grind. I hate that he's taking the blame for this, for me, the punishment is mine.

"Idiot," I bite at him. In Creole I ask, or rather mouth, "How am I supposed to save you?"

He smiles at me, his forehead matched against mine. His right eye is swollen, blood dried to his face. "You can't," he mouths. My face goes livid with rage, and I'm about to shout at him when he looks up then flicks his gaze back to me. "He will."

My countenance calms, and I pull back. He raises his fingers to his lips, presses his fingers against the glass, and I'd give anything to feel that warmth growing from his vitality, not the blood running cold on his flesh. I settle for kissing the glass before the guards yank him away to be tortured anew.


I'm in our study, head in my hands, frustrated out of my mind trying to figure out how to release him, when I hear Him. "You're trying to save him," He whispers.

"Obviously," I snarl. "And what are You doing? Nothing! Letting him fall apart in there!"

"He's not falling apart; you know that. He's relying completely on me. You're just trying to make me feel guilty, which is rather silly, don't you think?" I don't reply because I know He's right; He always is. He continues, "You should be relying on me too."

"I am!"

"Then why are you trying to save him?"

"What are you talking about? What else am I supposed to do?"

"Why are you trying to save him?"

"I just said-" the reality of the statement hits me, "Oh." He lets me stew on that one for a bit. Finally I say, "I'm sorry; You're right -obviously. I- I give this up to you. I want to help him, help You help him. Lord, if you take him away from me," I start to become hysterical.

"That's not up to you. I don't need your help, though I appreciate the sentiment; let Spirit move in you, and this process will go smoother. But my ways are not your ways; I will do as fit."

I try to hold back the attitude in my statement, "That's not fair. He's done everything for You. I should be in there; I haven't stayed nearly as true to You, done nearly as much as him in Your name." I've tried this argument before, and I've felt the same response. My time isn't up yet. I can only hope that means my husband's time isn't up either.

Happy Valentine's Day?

The following short story was based on the following "like" from Facebook:

14th February:
Girl: Happy Valentines Day!
Boy: Um... yeah :)
-Girl passes him a big box of chocolates-
-Boy passes her a tiny box, to which she looks disappointed-
Boy: Now, before you open this, I want you to know something... I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore...
Girl: (Shocked) -Opens box- *Gasp*
Boy: Because I want to be your husband.


~*~

"I hate Valentine's Day," I said, exhaling against the too-long-but-not-quite-long-enough hair that was ever present in my face despite the ponytail I was prone to wearing.

He smiled. "You're only in it for the chocolate I suppose?"

My face brightened. "Of course; as though there are any other reasons." We both knew I was being difficult on purpose; he'd grown used to it and usually played along until he caught me and exposed my tough-girl front.

"Because you and I both know you are desperately in love with me, as I with you, you got me something which was probably homemade, I got you something, and we will have some form of a sentimental moment where we shall admit these things to one another without pretense."

Yeah, exactly like that. I faked an irritated sigh, opened my bag, and handed him a bag of cake balls. "Here," I bit, though I know he saw the smile I was trying to hold back. After retrieving his gift, he pushed a box across the table to me without a word. My face fell flat. "Really? After all that chocolate talk, you bought me, what, four pieces? As long as they aren't weird flavors." I opened it.

I examined the contents carefully; I couldn't figure out what I was looking at. "Pretty sure this isn't chocolate," I muttered.

"Alexandrite."

The word snapped me out of my confusion, and my gaze shot up to his. "Wha-"

"Amethyst."

"Wait a sec-"

"Pearl. I almost wish they'd figure out which is your actual birthstone, but I admit I like the colors together. Good choice, bel."

My face was twisted into something mixed between confusion, dreamlike, and terror. Confused because I wasn't sure what was happening, barely dreamy because of what I thought it meant, and terror because I didn't want to be utterly wrong and humiliated. He smiled, somewhat knowingly but mostly gently.

"Marry me."

Not a question, not a demand - a statement of the obvious, now being when the time was right, when our proverbial ducks were in a supposedly straight row. Even though I was panicking, sweating, and shaking, I knew he knew my answer.

This Was RADICALLY Unexpected

To start, I totally failed today's task because I totally forgot to talk it over. Maybe it's because I was totally blindsided today, and I have to get this public.

I have finally welcomed my brother home.

Explanation? Let's backtrack first. This week's theme was peace. The first day? Forgive someone you've been bitter towards. The first person to pop into my head? The subject of an earlier post, the one where I mention I need to apologize. I never did apologize to him until yesterday. I got his email, wrote him a quick note, mentioning that I was a jerk for hating him even though he was a jerk to me.

A reply? Didn't want to open it. I was scared out of my mind. But I had to; the suspense was killing me. I was stunned. I'm still breathless. The reply specifically encouraged me and followed up with an apology for his actions as well.

I have a new brother in my Papa's family! I'm so excited it's ridiculous. I didn't believe anyone when they told me he changed, but this email reply is evidence. If there's a God, I know Him for certain now because He's changed his heart.

Wow. I'm...I'm just stunned. I almost cried because the response was nothing I expected, and I want to greet my brother in person. Hopefully I'll see him over the summer.

THANK YOU, LORD! Wow. Wow wow wow. Totally new perspective on this kid. Take him places, Lord. I want to see this kid explode. Wow. The bitterness is gone, and I can't stop blabbering about how COOL this experience was. UGH and I know my words are EPICALLY FAILING! shdiohfdkcnak;dgfahc. Ok, I need to sleep. (But I'm so ecstatic, I don't know if I'll be able too, hahaha.)

My Plans are Falling to Pieces

This semester has honestly swamped me. I feel like I'm drowning, only able to come up for air every couple of topics. Sometimes I get epiphanies that lead me confidently into the next topic. Then I struggle again as the waves crash over my head, and I'm left spinning beneath the surface.

Everytime I teach something, I feel utterly useless. I feel like this is a huge mistake. Then again, maybe I am overreacting. But everyone else seems so good at this, like they've just jumped in, yet it appears they've been teaching all their lives. I feel like I have no structure, like I have no idea who I am as a teacher, my style, my abilities. I feel like I'm talking to walls. If the walls happen to speak back, I can't answer them because of my extreme inexperience.

But it's too late. I'm locked into this major, and there's no way I'm starting over. I guess I'll keep fighting, keep trying. Maybe someone, somewhere, can use a small group tutor instead of a large classroom teacher. Maybe Haiti doesn't give a rip if I'm an English teacher; I'll still be stuck on the outside looking in.

I think I'm going to stop caring about the future so much. I feel like that's all college is - future career, future jobs, future graduation, future wife/husband and kids - futurefuturefutureFUTURE. I can't take it anymore. I swear if I hear Jeremiah 29:11 one more time...

Live for today. Breathe. Take everything one step at a time.

Self Disgust Runs Deep Then Pours Out

I owe you an apology. I have been bitter and arrogant and have refused to believe your change. I should not need proof of your change just because I am bruised by the old you. I know I need to tell you this either in person or by some other means, and I'm supposing I should go by the most embarrassing method.

Chances are you have no idea that I have despised you. It is even less likely you know the reasons why. I did not hate you solely because of your words. I hated you because you were my obsession. I hated you because I hated myself for obsessing over your attention, for idolizing you, and for objectifying you. I hate you because I so dearly hate myself. I think another reason I may hate you is because, yet again, I've connected you with her. I feel as though the underlying theme to all of my problems is her.

I'm sorry. I'd like to start over, if that's possible. But it probably isn't. We've never had anything in common to begin with. But regardless, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being unfair, for holding things against you, for not accepting you into the Family like I should have.

Please, Lord, break this obsession and take away my hatred, my bitterness which rots me. This is not who You've created me to be.

Starting to Lose Confidence Already

"Mediocrity is never going to work for you. It's funny you try, really; it really is. When you go a way different from everyone else, He will bring people to meet you there. I know you're lonely. Being a leader is lonely, and you're not even in a position of leadership; you're just trying to live your college life. People are always going to criticize you, to question you."

You probably don't remember, but you've said something like this to me before. I don't remember when or where or why, but I remember trying to draw something based on it. "You will never be the one to fit in," you said. "You'll be the one to create the molds."

Which is funny because as much as I've loved being unique and different, and as much as I've come to terms with being a loner, I've hated the fact that my life's purpose was merely being a teacher. Don't get me wrong, teachers are vastly important; without them I'd have no thirst for knowledge.

But I don't want to be just another teacher leading another boring, orthodox, predictable life.

So you're saying I am going to do something beyond belief, something crazy, and exciting, and probably life threatening? I'm ok with that, been ok with it ever since realizing my name - my name is my future - the lamb, the sacrifice on the altar. I'm ok with that (I think; I suppose I won't know until it happens) since it means I'll never be restless and I'll always spread life from my own core.

But what the crap am I supposed to be doing? I wish I had some idea how to prepare for it. I feel like I'll be knocked off balance because I'm inadequate. But I guess I'll always be inadequate next to You, eh? Whatever, but You know the deal. I don't want to have a family. Too much work, especially if You're planning on throwing me into the furnace. Why bring kids and a husband into it too? I can handle it with You; I'm a loner remember?

Well, if You'd give me a means to fight, a smaller scale battle to start with, I'd do it. I think. I'm awfully confident in my abilities to fight, but I'm just as worried about my ability to flake out.

Hope I don't suck at this.

Drowning Yet More Alive Than Ever

This is why no man should ever call me beautiful, why no one should even joke about it through the grapevine. Maybe once I stop fantasizing about it, overthinking it, You'll actually bring me to someone meaningful. I wonder if I had dated, had been called beautiful by my dates, my boyfriends, I'd stop overthinking the compliment. But then again, I've never been attractive enough to date. Many of the girls around me have, but I've usually been the comforter.

Which is fine, honestly. I realize that I do not have to be attractive outwardly because my life is not about that. The world might be about that, but I am not. I am allowed, however, to remind men and women alike of their beauty. And even if beauty has been called a feminine term, I feel it applies so deeply to men as well.

When I call a man beautiful, it is because I know his soul is pure and full of love and love is beautiful. I can't even describe it otherwise or explain what I mean by calling it beautiful. Beauty is pure, beyond skin, deep, permeating, soul enriching. You sink into its depths and come out alive, gulping air because you are joy, and thirst for life. You've tasted and you've seen and you can't come back because you'd rather choke on that richness than live meaninglessly - dead, for all intents and purposes.

I wish I had the words to describe myself tonight. I simply am not eloquent, even through my typing. Disappointing really.

Break Down

"I asked, 'When am I the most myself? No defenses, no anything, just my actual self.' Do you know what God said?"

"What?"

" 'When you are broken down and crying.' "

A wall goes up
automatic defense,
despite just asking what I'd be
without that.

I think of all the selves I have,
same adrenaline
rushing through my veins everytime I get a new
reaction, blasting, confusion on your face

You don't know me
who's just running this race
without a label without a plan
wondering 'is this just how it ends?'

No love, no respect
I can't give it on my own
Don't receive it, can't believe it
too much and I disown it

I see all these people with a love that is their own
and I break it, take it,
see this smile on my face?
believe it, hate it, hate me, hate this
I can't handle undeniable true bliss

Jealous. I want it for my own
but the burden is too heavy
and I can't bear to stand alone

I hate me for who I am
but I do not want to change
Because change equals effort
and I'm too much to blame
for everything I have to hold up
Standards too high and I'm just about to blow up

I can't handle being different,
being anything but me
but I know You're whispering
Trust You not me

Trust? Trust?
I can't handle it,
too much and I lose it
after raging on my own
inequities

pretty please
I won't get on my hands and knees
Too proud, too arrogant
You might as well get used to it

"Don't tell Me that you're tough,
don't tell Me that you're brave.
Don't tell Me that you're junk,
because that's not what I create.

I made you to glorify Me,
made you to honor Me completely.
I chisel and I take and you just like to talk,
Throw up walls, thinking that'll make Me stop.

I love you too much
to leave you just the way you are.
You don't deserve Me and you know it
but I love you with everything.

See these scars? Touch my hands
How do these make you feel?
Broken, shameful?

Good, now let Me finish you."

"It looks like we both gotta let our guard down."

A Christmas Story

I think I would give my right arm to have a warm blanket and a pillow. Just one pillow. I live in a sketchy part of town, someplace where the windows don't quite shut and the door hangs just a bit ajar. That wouldn't be so bad if it didn't get so cold at night during the winter. I sleep on the floor. My younger siblings need the mattress. Which is fine because I could sleep anywhere - if I had a pillow and a blanket.

Mom asks me what I want for Christmas this year. I would feel stupid asking her for a pillow and a blanket so instead I say, "Nothing". She presses me and instead I tell her I'll think about it. Then she asks Raymond and Celine and they go on and on and on about the toys they want for Christmas. "Mom and Dad can't get you everything you want," I scold. But Mom just waves me away and lets them have their fun making their lists.


Dad tells me we've been invited to a Christmas party. There will be games for the kids and a free lunch, even a visit from 'Mrs. Claus'. I'm surprised he evens wants to socialize with a bunch of other parents while the kids are doing whatever. (I don't plan on playing the stupid games; I am 12 after all, way too old for musical chairs and whatever else.) Mom must've talked him into it.


We're at the Christmas party, hosted by a bunch of kids who want to support the community. Cool cause, but I'm just not into it. Mrs. Claus has brought a bunch of presents, gifts I guess they are going to hand out to all the kids here. I'm expecting something stupid, like a game or a toy. Raymond and Celine are all psyched up for the gift giving. But before that they try to get me to play some of their games. I'm too old for kid stuff, I say, and they smile and leave me alone as they invite my siblings over instead.

After lunch they finally start giving out the gifts. I just want Ray and Cel to get their presents so we can leave. I hear Mrs. Claus call the names (Ray and Cel get exactly what they asked for - games and toys; so that's why Mom wanted to know what I wanted for Christmas.) and all of the sudden she calls mine. I'm confused, so confused I don't get up to claim my prize, so one of the volunteers brings it over. It's big, almost too hard to hold. I don't open it because she's called my name again. Suddenly I have three big packages and I keep looking around waiting for someone to say there's been a mistake.

My parents urge me to open them. I don't really want to because I know they are stupid presents and I don't really want anyone to scold me for being ungrateful and disappointed. Instead my siblings come over and yank the wrapping off for me. What I see stuns me.

A blanket. And two pillows. Not one but two. I'm so confused at my gifts. These are stupid, I try saying. But instead my voice cracks and I can't see. Why am I crying? So what if I would have had to sleep on the cold, hard floor? So what if absolutely adore the color purple - the exact shade of the pillows and the blanket? So what if someone somewhere knew exactly what I wanted?

Stop trying to put on a front, I hear inside my head. So instead I cuddle one pillow to my chest and I smile into it as my tears melt away.

Wounded For Our Transgressions

I often forget that battle weary soldiers are often drawn to veterans with the deepest battle scars. Hearing his testimony (however short it may have been) reminded me that I am not alone. He reminded me that we all fight. Some of us still wage war; some of us have conquered in victory.

Thank you. I admire your battle scars. And maybe one day, I too will be bold enough to showcase my own.

May His love heal your wounds, but may He leave the scars so you are always reminded of His rescue.

Remember Me?

The presentation began the way I remembered putting it together; but I never got the chance to finish it the way I intended. November 22. He would have been 23 that day.

I was in my favorite class, giving a presentation, on the birthday of my late cousin. The first slides went well. Then the third to last slide appeared. I had made an acrostic to summarize the five points of my presentation. I didn't remember spelling the acrostic the way it appeared on the slide.

T. O. M. M. Y. Tommy. The name of my late cousin.

I froze. I couldn't speak, my mouth dry like cotton, the wad caught in my throat. All I could remember was his death, his bloody head seeping brain fluid after the doctor pronounced he could no more to stop the concussion's swelling. It cut off his oxygen. Tommy died, shortly after such a painful birth into the world.

Suddenly these words echoed in my mind - "It should have been you. Tommy was full of promise. What promise do you have? None. You should be dead."

The last thing I remember was screaming, seeing red, then fading into black.


I woke up in a white room with padded walls. I couldn't move. My arms were bound to my body by something, but I couldn't even sit up or turn my head far enough to tell. A figure loomed into my vision.

"Wha- What?" I tried rasping. My voice was slurred and still dry. I must have been screaming for hours.

"You were proclaimed insane, D. Remember? No, probably not. You'll probably even forget this conversation." That voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't place who. The face was blocked by light and my eyes started to close again. "After the trial? You couldn't even appear in court. You were practically a vegetable." What? What was he saying?

"You went berserk and killed someone, D. You wouldn't stop screaming, crying, shaking. You were tried insane and you were declared insane. Where else did you expect to end up?"

What?! No, I would never- but even as he was telling it, I remembered. I remembered seeing my dead cousin, remembered trying to claw away from him. I grabbed something, something sharp. I remember plunging it into his chest, hoping somehow that would finally destroy the terrible hold his memory had on me.

Then I had faded back into reality. One of my own classmates. I'd killed him. He'd been married, a hopeful graduate with a job lined up after getting his degree. His wife, another classmate, screamed and cried, falling to her knees. Then I screamed and cried too.

What happened to me?

Perspective

I choked over it today. She asked me if I was going on a mission's trip. Lindz mentioned she wasn't and my face darkened. I almost cried over it. My voice wavered and I was off guard to You (just like I was when You used my testimony at youth). Which means it's back...

This stupid passion is growing again. But You're perfecting it. I know that now.

She almost cried when I asked her what disappointed her most. She was selfless. She's been given so much, she said, that it hurts when she sees that her friends have so little. She wasn't disappointed that she wasn't fulfilling her potential. Because she knows already that it's not about her.

Wow. I want that. Maybe. I ask You for things than ask You to take them away. I asked for transparency today, and it was well. I almost told Lindz. But not yet. She will know about me, my past, my sin, my chains -now broken- that will always be a part of my story. She may run.
But I think she'll be supportive.

I am finding friendship again.

I think she is tortured. I remember sobbing over her when our floor met for Spiritual Emphasis Week. I remember screaming into my fist, trying to draw blood just to prove that she did not have to endure pain alone. From that moment, I knew I'd be there.

But of this she is unaware. Because I cannot share this depth unless I share my own.

I must stop recoiling at his face and his name. I must stop shoving him away because I think of her. He is not her. She is not him. He probably doesn't even remember. In fact, this hatred is selfish. I am bruised because I did not protect her, because I stabbed her in the back. Because I am not strong. I am selfish.

What can I do to release her? Perhaps she is released, but she too will forever be a part of my story.

As I sit here in this chair, wishing for anything

Why am I always angry with You at night? What gives? I'm freaking out over here because I can't control my spending. Ever. This is why no one should give me access to anything ever. I will use it and abuse and go buck wild crazy. I'm PISSED that I can't get a grip on my spending because it means that I'll never get a grip on anything else. GOD, I'm so useless!

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE DOING?! You've taken writing from me, You haven't called me to anything even though everyone else and their mother here has heard You. What about me?! Aren't I good for something?! ...Please? I'll serve soup in a kitchen all my life if You want me to.

Just call me. Call me and don't take it back. Stop doing that, please. Stop letting my imagination run frantic if none of it matters.

I don't want Your heart either. I hate sobbing over anything. And when You sob... I can't breathe. My throat closes up and I want to vomit. I want to do something but You only show me the problem, never the solution.

I will never forget that Senior Trip. Ever. I will never forget crying against the wall when she was sobbing on the floor, broken by her abortion and her confusing relationship. I will never forget when he was drunk out of his mind, but he was sobbing too because he was never the friend he wanted to be. I will never forget how no one else felt it. Instead they all gossiped. "I guess it's true", "Sounds like it is. I mean why else would he..."

I will never forget how angry I was in that moment. How much I wanted to scream at all of them. "You know nothing! Shut up shut up shut up!"

I'll never forget how I knew nothing too. How I let her beat the crap out of her best friend and I just stood there and watched, assuming she deserved it. How immature and stupid and utterly sickening I am.

I have forgotten his callousness. I hope I will not speak to him again and it will all flood back into me. Maybe I should forget him too. Go our own ways. We were never best friends. Just friends. Hardly acquaintances. Sharing interests but never any depth.

I stiffen at his presence. I purposely avoid eye contact. I cannot re-filter him.

I pretend that I am fine because I have no possible way to say all of this to anyone. But I am honest. Or trying to be. Such a conditional word. To be truly honest, would I not have to explain everything to them? From the earliest days I can remember, to my broken relationships, to my gluttony, to my lust, to my thoughts of suicide, to my regrets, to my hatred, to my apathy, to my selfishness, and all that is in between.

And who has time for that much stuff? Not even I do.

All at Once it Comes

I think we most often forget who we belong to. I think I forget that I am not my own and I am not my parents'. I have no dreams or aspirations because I am an empty vessel. I am blank, not even a mirror for others to see themselves.

Those are the Empaths, and I realized why I was not one. I am blank. I will either tell you what you want to hear or I will tell you the opposite. I am not an Empath because I do not dwell on the depressions and brokenness of others. I will remember them in prayer and I will feel compassion and a brief moment of being in their position, but I will not feel sick for days.

I am empty, blank, and I reflect only what I can muster up. Generally I am without emotion. Usually I am a failure at being a friend because I know so little of social etiquette and true depth because of my broken relationships. I leave my friends in the dust. I fail them, I know. I will yell, scream, roll my eyes, passive aggressively ignore them, and all other things.

I know one such Empath who read me like a book, which I hated. I hate when other people know what I'm thinking. But I suppose that is a form of pride. I hate being an open book and I hate trying to purposely impart my feelings. My communication is so horrific that I do not communicate myself to anyone and I come off as proud or uncaring when I am genuinely not.

I've lost relationships. And because I've lost them, I feel You will ask me to cut off more. So why get attached? Why bother? Why have dreams and aspirations when You will demand my whole heart, then rip them from me?

This is why I love nothing other than the obvious. This is why I am a Learner; I will thirst for everything so You can't possibly hold it all back. I challenge You because I hate what you put me through.

This is why I am Paul. This is why I will not be called to marriage nor to children. And suddenly Aya's point of view makes a world of sense. Not that that would've mattered considering her history with reciprocated crushes. (Not that that is a bad thing, though I have come to the conclusion that I am green with envy whenever someone mentions a crush. I am harsh to break their dreams because mine have been so broken and I can't stand to see someone else with as much happiness as I want and deserve.)

As though I deserve anything. Ever. Not even life. I deserve death. Which is why I think I am finally ok with dying without accomplishing anything. Everyone wants to go out with a bang, make this huge impact. But no one realizes that it is in fact their arrogance that makes them want to impact so many. Who says You've called us to it? Who says You've called me to something bigger than me? That's not accurate. Your Kingdom is much bigger than me, whether I save one person or one hundred thousand. (There it goes again - "I", "me", like I'm the one who changes another's heart.)

I've also realize that I am a social invalid because of my pride. I do not risk anything to be friendly and I do not risk myself to join in something outside of my clique. I do not risk being awkward or honest or transparent because I am afraid of someone seeing me as less than what I show myself to be.

Even as I type this post, it has become all about me me me. And there are so many others who need prayer or support or encouragement. So I apologize for not being there as a support. I am sorry I stood by when you needed me or wanted me to say something. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I gloss over your heart's greatest aches. I am sorry.

WhatisthisIdon'teven-

I've been noticing something over the past couple of weeks. Ever since I made the decision to stop being passionate about anything, I have, in fact, stopped being passionate about anything.

Crazy, right?

I feel like Clara Barton. I did a report on her back in the 5th grade and I still remember one specific point I made about her character and personality. She lived to please people. Her parents wanted her to be a school teacher; being too shy to speak up, she did. She was good at it too. Then she got into nursing and that was her career passion.

I feel like I'm not really supposed to be an English teacher. Some days I can picture it and other days I realize just how much I abuse the language, trip over my words, misinterpret books, never read between the lines, mess up every sentence I want to communicate, and how incredibly and annoyingly introverted I am. I'm too afraid to do anything ever.

UGH.

Sometimes I feel like I'm in my element when I'm up in that booth, typing out lyrics, and switching system checks. But then I realize just how incredibly little I know and how utterly futile it is to attempt to advance up the ranks. I don't belong in a higher rank. I have no ear for music, thus cannot sound check. Ever. Unless that's something you can learn, which I doubt. I'm disparagingly shakey and thus cannot hold a camera. My lack of intelligence and knack frustrates me.

I hate that I know nothing. It's so weird coming from a school where I had a reputation as the smart kid, the jerk, kind of the top dog (thanks to ASB). Here I'm in a whole other gene pool of talent and leadership and I realize that I wasn't even a leader or talented to begin with! I was with a bunch of other people who depicted me that way.

Everyone here can sing, play an instrument, draw or paint, is a leader of something, or is otherwise known. I've got nothing tangible or obvious. Maybe there's something buried way down in there, I don't know. I'm a frickin' junior and I have no time to impact anybody; I can't even impact myself! Maybe if I were a freshman I could work up the ranks, but now I'm barely legal, two years ahead of myself, and about to start a career.

This is crazy.

And another thing (see how much I ramble!? I had a whole different point for starting this blog entry) I am starting to remember how stupidly pointless stuff is. Like dating. Sorry, but it's stupid. You don't have time for that! You're in frickin' college! STOP THE FRICKIN FLIRTING YOU IMBECILES! You have papers to write and tests to study for. You have a career you're training in. Thank GOD I've chosen Paul's lifetime committment. Way simplier that way and a lot less drama.

Not that THAT matters because I can't do ANYTHING for Your frickin' kingdom! Come ON! You shot down Haiti! What else am I supposed to do?! Donate some stuff to a homeless shelter. Yeah, how fulfilling that is. Maybe for a day or two until it's over. Then I'm just as hopelessly vacant as ever. UGH I'm really frustrated with You. Again. (We fight a lot don't we? Ugh, whatever, I need it as motivation for supporting my faith.)

Thank You it's Friday. Almost.

I can't think about anything else to rant about so...here.

OH no wait. WHY DO I KEEP THINKING ABOUT DAN AND SICI?! I'm done with Sici; I know You're not throwing me back in there no matter how much I think about how unsaved she is. I did what I could and I screwed up royally. Everytime I see Dan I think of Sici and THAT'S starting to really piss me off. My perspective of him is colored, I know. Because I keep thinking of every promise I broke to Sici. And I can't get him through a new filter.

I'm going to sleep. Wake me when I stop feeling angry.

Denial

I've known for a week or so now that I can't go to Haiti. Because I'm not a Sci-Tech major. And that wasn't such a big deal. I figured, I'll see if CrossWalk is going to host a non-major trip to Haiti. If not, I'd go straight to Convoy. Things look increasingly complicated on all fronts.

And now I'm wondering if I am called at all.

It's not the struggle, I'm worried about. I'd be fine with that if I hadn't been in Essential Christianity today.

Apparently being called depends on other people advocating ways to achieve your call.

No big deal, right? Until my professor mentioned a student he'd had who felt called to be a doctor. But after six years of trying to apply to medical school, he gave up. It wasn't working. Because although he'd done everything right, everyone else slammed the door.

At first I was thinking he didn't try hard enough. Then I got worried. What if God purposely kept the doors shut? What if He had in fact called him to something, but the student had confused it or muddled it by his own desires? I'm noticing that a lot here; dreams of nursing only to be called to make the tough decision to switch majors to missions. "But God, I can nurse in foreign countries. This is what I want."

"No."

I've watched girls here sob over crushed passions. I'm wondering if that'll be me too.

This is why I try not to love anything. If I do, I fear it'll be taken away. That's part of why I don't want him. I have a deep, unnerving fear that you will destroy me if you take him. That's why I'm so bothered by this dream I had last night. A dream of massacre in Haiti. A dream where we weren't there to stop it, but sobbing in each other's arms as we watched the live footage played on the news. I fear you will take away everything dear to me.

I'd call You cruel if I didn't think there was a much bigger picture I was missing. Blind faith, they call it.

Then I suppose it's the blind leading the blind.

Blurb

"What a useless thing," he said. "People are so predictable. Life is one circle. Birth, love, death. Throw in some abuse and somehow these people get compassion. What's wrong with this picture?"

"The compassion, sir," he replied. "Abuse should equal turning away from God, not to him."

"Exactly. So why isn't it working with her?"

Because I've got her safely in hand.

Does GO = Stay...?

Friday Chapel Service held a special surprise for me.

Crosswalk was announcing where they were headed for missions trips this year.

I had no idea they were doing this today; I thought I was waiting for Tuesday for the make or break moment of my current existence. As I walked into the chapel, Crosswalk member were handing each student a blue card, listing each of their services - children's ministry, community service, and, of course, missions.

My heart sank when I couldn't find it on the list. And then...there it was. Towards the bottom. A Spring Break missions trip held by the Science-Tech Department. I started shouting and jumping up and down, trying not to freak out but probably failing miserably.

I marked the box and circled it over and over and decked it out with stars - Haiti.

Now, they mentioned it was a medical based trip, which shouldn't be a problem. I'm not in the Sci-Tech Dep. but I don't think you're bound by restrictions of major, nor whether you are aspiring to be a neurosurgeon or not (though I did instantly consider Fiji and Bo, so shoutout to you Mr. I'mma-get-married-in-the-next-eight-months).

Regardless, I'll be at the meeting on Tuesday to ask said -potentially stupid- questions.

I was talking to the folks about this today when I phoned home. I told them that instead of taking the academic trip to Greece, I would go to Haiti because "As corny as this sounds," I said, "I feel my life's purpose is to go to Haiti."

Pause. Quickly I amended to, "At least once."

But the reality of the statement hit me. What if I am supposed to go?

And stay?

Tell me, Send me, GO

I've got to get there. I've got to go. Please please PLEASE be on the list for CrossWalk's missions trips. Waiting until, what, the 14th? Come ON, I can't wait that long.

If you're not on the list, I'm going to Convoy directly. I'm going this year. If I don't go this year... Ugh, man, no, Lord, please. I finally have some semblance of passion in my life and if I let it die...

I have some inkling of my purpose, something greater outside of these four walls, this however-small-big-whatever square footage, outside of this life. Please.

No, I don't care about him. He'll come whenever You want him there. He's lost much meaning to me now that I've exhausted the idea. Don't let him come back. Keep him out of mind until then. I don't want him to be referenced, I don't want to think of him, I don't want to hear talk of him. I want to stop thinking every one I meet could be him or lead me to him.

I want to stop obsessing.

I want to go. That's the most important thing to me now. Well, other than You, obviously. I need a physical reminder. I was going to draw their flag, but go figure it's the most complicated thing ever. Maybe just their motto...? Some memorabilia somewhere? (Like people here would carry- ...Hm. Maybe I could hit up Amazon. Or more locally, get deeper into the recesses of the Thrift Store. Speaking of, kickin' dress, Lord.)

Off to find a physical source of inspiration.

Much love, God Bless,
EPD

(P.S. Got any prayer requests? Even leaving an "unspoken" in the comments is perfectly fine.)

Darkness Overtakes

Perhaps you'd think much of me, or perhaps you'd think very little.

I am the wallflower.

Perhaps you'd call me strange, or perhaps you'd never care.

I am the one who hides.

Perhaps you'd find me beautiful...But what point is there in beauty?

I am the monster.

Perhaps my obsession takes a new form.

Then I'd be alone.

Perhaps you'd pity me or hate me.

Perhaps you'd love me or leave me.

Perhaps I'll never find you. Perhaps it doesn't matter.

Perhaps I have never in fact changed. Perhaps "I am who I am".

Perhaps I am alone here. Perhaps everything is superficial or what is real isn't or what isn't real is. Perhaps I know nothing and perhaps I find knowledge, to do what with?, nothing. What good is anything or nothing?

Perhaps I am no longer as unique as I thought. Perhaps I have no dreams or aspirations because I am stupid, weak, and useless. Perhaps everything is a lie and I can't tell up from down.

I don't think I'll be transformed. Because everytime I am, I never stick. I lose myself and that shouldn't terrify me but it does. Because all I have is me (whatever that means). I lost You and that sucks. I don't listen anymore because I'm too terrified of my own shadow. Why am I so ridiculously weak? Why am I so stupid? Why am I so...disappointed?

Ortberg, I seek answers in your book. Spirit...Spirit, I know you're upset with me. But I-

Stop. Stop the excuses. Stop the walls and the lies. What happened to transparency?

I lost it when my bleeding brokenness scabbed over. I lost feeling in my life and it's strange because I know why I want to do everything the world has to offer and why I want to devour color and beauty.

Because I'm empty. I'm so lost. I think that all the knowledge I can master will fulfill me. I think that if I could just live in a world of color, of beauty, if I experience everything there is to experience, I'll be happy. I'll have lived life to the fullest.

But it won't matter. I won't be remotely satisfied. That's why I've lost aspiration and dreaming. Because what's the use? What's the use in dressing up or playing with creativity? Nothing. I'm surrounded by people I'm already starting to love but I can't break free. I can't get out of this uncomfortably socially awkward box I've put myself in.

I'm so lost. I keep trying to hide from my emotions, from these feelings, because why should they matter? I think I'm trying to recover my self-importance. Back home I had positions and power and authority. Here I'm no one. The slate's wiped clean, but I have nothing to show for it. I'll just fade into the background. Because, really, how important am I? I'm not. I'm not worth recognizing or knowing. I'll be one of the one hundred girls here with the same name and no one will be able to distinguish me from any other.

I've lost myself. And I'm not sure I want to find me. I'm actually rather terrified of responsibility and obligation. I fear commitment. Actually, I think that's why I'll never find you. Because if I did, I wouldn't commit to you. I can hardly commit to my own family or my own Creator. How could I commit to a stranger? I've built you up in my mind. You aren't real. You don't exist. You'll hurt me. And I'll want to manipulate you.

I've forgotten how dark I can be. How I can twist and pull and scheme. I'll do that. Just like I've done to everyone else... I'm underhanded and selfish. I know why I'll never find you.

Because I'm ugly, inside and out. I'm grotesque and hideous. I'm a beast. I sneer with wicked eyes and gnash my fangs in thirst for blood. I will want to hurt you.

It's best we never meet.

The College Update

OK. It only took me a week to get to this so I'll be brief/detailed/organized/everywhere. Thursday we flew out at 6:30AM on Allegiant. Lo and behold, three hours later, I'm introduced to Jessica, a returning student to Evangel, who was sitting just behind me. She's rooming with Randall, a fantastic basketball player from a rival high school. We exchange numbers and part ways.

We get to the hotel my dad booked and are disappointed to learn that the owner is not so friendly. And there's bugs EVERYWHERE (ok, not really, but there were six flies and one creeper mantis thing just chillin' above my head). We move rooms and the bugs are less but still around.

Bright side, that owner is the exception to the general congeniality here. EVERYONE is nice. It's insane. Such a dramatic change of pace. For example, we went to WalMart to buy crap for my room (like a mini-fridge) and my dad asks the cashier how she's doing. She replies that she's doing great, where my dad says, "You can't be; you're working."

"But I've got Jesus in my heart," she says, "so why wouldn't I be great?"

DUDE! I'm living here permanently.

Ok that was a lie. Maybe. I dunno. I can't imagine living back home after I've been there all my life. Whatever, not the point of this post.

So Friday we move in. I have no roommate, which sucks since she's the third one I've chased out, but it's equally awesome because I have an entire room to myself. So lots of set up and "launch" (basically orientation) activities later, I spend my first night in my new home. Lovely, especially since I didn't get any sleep the night before with my parents the chainsaw snorers.

Saturday I was on my own because I had Launch activities all day, then Sunday I ate my last meal with my parents before they dipped out. I miss them like crazy, but less in a homesick way and more in a "Man they do everything for me; they deserve a break from me" kind of way. And they are always a phone call away.

OH! Friday I met my best friend here so far. (Actually, she's tied with everyone else, hahaha). I wore my DeathNote bag to my Launch group meeting, she approached me to compliment it, we talked over anime and spool knitting (a spool knitter?! YES!) and hit it off right away. She's from an insanely small school like me, k-12, with the same weird teacher stereotypes I got back home. Lindsay is a graphic arts major (legit).

I also met several girls in my part of the hall (I'm on the third floor by the way, meaning my parents and I had to lug everything up here. No, there isn't an elevator, stop asking.) One is Gennee, a nursing major, with a vibrant personality. She's so sweet and her older sis is the RA on the second floor. (Her sis Kattee is also a knitter. Dude, everyone knits/crochets here! So stoked) Their mom was a riot; she really knows how to schmooze and extract the right info. (She's the reason I knew who to talk to at the Meet with Your Faculty event.)

Speaking of, I meet everyone and their mother in the Education and Humanities Departments. Ok, not everyone, but enough people. I had to switch advisers because apparently being an English Education major means you're a Humanities kid, not an Education one.

Ooookaaaay? Whatever, not important. Except I did have to drop a class. When I'd already rented the book from chegg.com. But that's ok since I have Young Adult Literature now. And I'm psyched. Met the teacher already (who's also an advisor) and he is so cool. WE'RE READING THE GIVER! Ahem. Sorry, had to- AND HOLES! ...I'm a sucker for youth literature I guess.

But yes. I don't think I'll declare a second major or minor or anything yet. The way I see it, I'm probably going to do my Master's program here as well, so I think I'll be able to crank out any other majors/minors I want. I don't know if they have a doctorate program though. I'll have to ask.

Met my suitemate who's nice if not awkward (because I suck at social interaction, especially after we've already talked basics over Facebook, what else do I mention?). Met another floor mate (who's in the opposite side of the hall) named Elly. She's a transfer too. A Journalism major. Epiiic. OH did I mention this place has it's own TV and radio stations? No? Well they do. And I hope Elly gets involved there.

And there's Nikki, who is sooooooo adorable. I love her! She's always saying hi to me and being enthusiastic. Man, I love this place! Oh, and I didn't have shampoo the other night, so I visited a neighbor, kindly asked if I could borrow some, and Olivia gave me a travel size conditioner and shampoo. How nice! I'd've been like, "Um...what?" Again, socially retarded.

What else, what else? There was this dude Caleb who was cool. And this girl Allegra. Javi, Tobi, Chris, and Abbey. All those guys were with me at our AC dinner. They were hilarious and awesome and really on fire.

Speaking of, they were all talking about their passions and I just sat there. I had no idea what I was passion about. I've lost my fire somewhere and I'm going to get it back. Though that's going to be a trying process. Lots of genuine worship, reading, prayer, outreaching, etc. I'm falling back into that apathetic place.

Speaking of (I say that a lot, haha), The Lord's Table is doing alright. I haven't lost weight but I feel lighter in certain places. I couldn't wear a pair of glasses often because my face was too fat and the frames bothered the sides of my head. I'm wearing them right now and I feel fine. And the three rolls on my stomach are starting to morph into two. HOOSHAH! Praise You, Lord!

This part is a tad graphic/uncomfortable, so skip if you'd like. Ugh, I want to get into a workout regiment, but I'm not going to until I heal up my crazy chaffing rash. Went to the nurse today and she thinks it's a yeast infection going down my thighs. That's gross. A yeast infection is already disgusting (especially right now; it's staining all of my underwear like crazy! I'm like a leaky faucet! She said that's probably because I'm ovulating and the antibiotics I was taking for my ear infection killed off good bacteria, which is making the yeast RAMPANT). She gave me a prescription for one pill that should clear it up in a couple days. And she wants me to use my last Monistat dose on my legs (Monistat is this cream you have to use for three days as an OTC treatment for yeast infections. Two guesses on where you inject the cream.)

Ok, graphic part over. I got a ride from my Launch Leader Dodi(who is so funny and terrified to drive) to Walgreen's and got some stuff. I've been using my debit card like crazy! Mostly for books though. Ugh, books. I'm such an idiot. On my Student Portal, there's a button you can click to view your books for your classes. Me being an idiot, I didn't cross reference those with my schedule. Turns out my Essential Christianity class didn't even show on that list. So all the sudden I get the online syllabus for the class and WOOSH! I need five more books.

What?! And the bill ran me $91. Lame. Oh, and I needed 11 individual books for Young Adult Lit. Which wasn't terrible since they were all under five bucks.

Um, ok, what else? I saw my second potential roommate in the Humanities Department, but I forgot to introduce myself. Oh, and everyone from home has a doppelganger here. No lie.

Ok, well that's about it for now. Maybe I'll edit this to include more detail or more organization. But don't hold your breath. Classes start tomorrow so we'll see what happens.

Much love and God Bless,
EPD

Last Youth 8-18-10

Tonight was crazy. The Lord was in it and it was incredible. Everything came together. Jimmy told me last week that I'm giving my testimony -apparently an instant obedience to the Holy Spirit- and the second he says that, I hear, "You're talking about your slavery to masturbation and your relationship with you-know-who."

Oh. Eff.

It was one thing to tell a couple of people about my testimony. It's another to tell everyone in my youth group.

So I'm praying pretty much all week for words from the Spirit. We get into worship tonight and Jimmy starts talking about freedom - interesting since I'm taking about my past slavery. Then Andy -an alumnus who's going to my same college- talks about the freedom you have in going to a Christian college. Then I start talking (well, not me, but Spirit) about my freedom, how I wouldn't be free if my good friend hadn't led me to the settingcaptivesfree.com website and how I wouldn't be free if my King didn't die in my place. Now I start tearing up -out of NOWHERE mind you- because I talk about how I was the one that hurt him but He loved me enough to die for me anyways.

Love. Love is a powerful motivation. "We love because He first loved us." (1 John 4:19) And I love so many people. They have all made such a huge impact in my life and love them for all they do for me.

I just want to take the time to shout out everyone who has made my LIFE tonight. To all of my small group girls - Alexa, Brittany, Kahlia, Sara, Alexis, and Anna. I love each and every one of you and I hate that I'm leaving you. But you guys are in good hands with Brittany. I already wrote everything fantastic about each of you and I gave them to all of you. I could go on and on and on about you guys. Gosh, I love you guys so much. Alexis, your cake is fantastic. I could eat it all the time if cake had no bad nutritional value. ;P

Grace, Sarah, and Heather, ya'll are getting your own dedications later (not sure when since everything is getting crazy at my house).

Andrea, you and I have gotten in fights, but we always seem to have each other's backs. Thank you for all of your fabulous-ness. I still remember volleyball Senior Night, the best Senior Night ever ;).

Bo, why the heck don't we talk more?! This changes now. Imma hit you up on Facebook more so when I get back we'll already be in the habit of talking to each other all the time. You don't know this, but I crazy admire you. Also, that was so nice of you to say that youth would be missing something without me. Thank you.

Daniel, dude you are my brother. I know you hate me and I'm obnoxious and blah, but I really really want to know you more. I want to be there for you. I know there are some issues with us, but I hope we can work past that. You have potential. Don't waste it.

Matt, oh man, you're fourteen! You always make me laugh and I just love your carefree, playful, easygoing attitude. I just love you, man, plain and simple. I will always be able to lift you ;) Do everything to glorify the Lord and you will be running strong.

Doreen, you are the voice amongst the noise. You say want you mean and I can go to you for some seriously tough love. I still remember your words about my lack of control in anything because it's all in God's hands. (You wrote that on my Facebook Birthday note.)

Danielle aka Danny, the most adorable girl I know! We don't know each other well, but I'd like to know you more. You have spunk, charm, and you are surprisingly outgoing. I love that you give your opinion no matter what. Honesty is refreshing; don't lose who you are.

Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. Oh for crying in the night the frito bandito is on the run. I have so enjoyed having you as a youth pastor. You are real and alive and open. Thank you so so so much for giving me the opportunity to speak tonight. You keep everyone going with your sense of humor. I love how everything can roll off your back.

Marcus, a year. A whole year with you and Russ. Oh man. Apple fritters all the way. I'm going to miss you guys up there. I loved our random conversations and how we always picked on each other. You are amazingly gifted and I love your Tri House group. More gospel rap PLEASE! (Though I never got to your house for tri tip...) If you ever need something media related, please don't hesitate to call/text/Facebook. And thanks for saying that new guy has such big shoes to fill. That was very kind (though untrue).

Michelle, you have always welcomed me with open arms and I thank you so much for that. You are so easy to talk to. You have fed me and consoled me and I thank you again for your refreshing, calming nature. I can't wait to talk to you more!

Carolyn, you know why you're on here :). You will get your own dedication later as well.

Danny, you better kick some serious tail on Student Council. I'm totally serious on my offer - call me whenever. I'll probably give you some obvious advice or I might not have much to give, but I would not mind being involved in the school community process. Let me know when St. Baldrick's is happening again. Maybe I really will shave my head this time...

To everyone - I LOVE ALL OF YOU! I'm going to miss small group and youth group so much. Today I really felt sad to be leaving. A part of me cried out to stay. But have no fear, you will have all forgotten me by Thanksgiving break ;)

Oh and to the prayer group that was in the Spirit to intercede for my man and I to meet... Can't wait to see what happens, ahahaha.

I love you guys. See you soon!

A Revelation from Malcolm in the Middle

I was watching Malcolm in the Middle today. It was the episode where Lois and Hal (the parents) have a pregnancy scare; it's mostly a flashback episode based on Lois's pregnancies with Francis, Reese, Malcolm, and Dewey.

What struck me the most was the ending scene. Lois is about to give birth to Dewey in her backyard (there was a chemistry set incident, thanks to Malcolm, which kept the family from getting back into the house to find the car keys) when she and Hal are fighting. Lois finally says that she can't have another kid if their relationship would continue to suffer like it had been since Francis's birth a couple years earlier. So she says, "Here's what we'll do. I want you to tell me three, no, five, no, SEVEN things about me that you love and I have to believe every one of them."

Hal struggles to figure out seven things he loves about his wife (the first few of them being ridiculous, such as "I love how your toes all look like they came from other people") before he really gets the ball rolling. Then the two start confessing how much they love each other and want to share their lives with each other and would never trade that for anything.

And as I watched this scene, I cried, because it was one of the realist, rawest things I could think of that would make a relationship shine. The fact that the two of them realized they needed to fix their relationship, then sat down and brought back the reasons they loved each other was so honest. Then I thought, I want that - to be able to fight, sit down, and bring up exactly what's wrong, how we fix it, then remember that no matter what, we can find and remember things to love about each other.

Honesty. Truth. Real. Genuine.

Much love and God Bless,
EPD

The Lord's Table

I completed Way of Purity on the settingcaptivesfree.com website and moved onto The Lord's Table. This course is to break bad eating habits. I overeat and eat when I'm bored. Today was Day 3.

The first day was about getting your motivations for taking the course right - glorifying the Lord. Day 2 was about why we eat when we aren't hungry, usually because we want to satisfy ourselves because of a spiritual reason or we feel empty.

Day 3 was feasting on the Lord (i.e. getting into the Word and praying and listening to His voice) to satisfy those desires we got into on Day 2; basically it was to replace the bad eating habits with the good habit of getting into God's presence.

This program has me on an eating plan. Two actually. Eat only when your tummy growls. Then there's the meal plan consisting of liquid, half, normal, and fast days. Liquid days you drink liquids all day except for your last meal. Half days you eat half portions of what you'd normally eat (like if I usually eat three cookies, I only eat one and a half on a half day). Normal days are normal and fast days are no food. Instead of eating at meal times we pray.

Today's a normal day (day one was a half day, day two was liquids day -which I really enjoyed). Tomorrow is my fast day. The program recommends starting the fast day the evening before until the evening of (so tonight after dinner I don't eat, sleep, and I fast until tomorrow evening).

Each week there's two normal days, two half days, two liquid days, and one fast day. No days are back to back (i.e. today and tomorrow can't be normal days, but today and Thursday can be).

I have a mentor in this program, which is awesome, since I didn't get one for Way of Purity. My mentor is fantastic and I'm excited to get advice from my mentor.

Hopefully more to update.

With love and God Bless,
EPD

Identity: Part 1...?

Today was the first time I wasn't afraid to see you. Today I actually loved you - not romantically nor was it perverted, but it was God's love. Spirit was active in my heart, connecting me to Daddy so I was connected by the heart.

Love.

I can't fix our relationship. I'm human and I'll fall; as much as I want to love you and show you what the Lord has done in my life, a bad influence takes hold much more than a good influence would. The demons would come at me again. I'd lose Spirit and I won't do that. Not when He's the love of my life. Not when He's my best friend.

Spirit. The Holy Spirit. I've heard His voice so clearly recently. I can't see Him, but I often imagine the typical angelic appearance - pale skin, blond hair, and blue eyes. He's bright and vibrant. He connects me to Daddy, gives me words, intercedes when my words and prayers fail (as they so often do). Spirit produces virtues in me, the same characteristics Jesus exemplified.

Papa. My relationship with my earthly father is off and on. Recently we've been getting along very well. When we don't, the Lord's been expanding my wisdom, telling me what went wrong and why. When I feel spurned or lost or unable to speak, I cry to my Daddy. He comforts me and stays beside me. He created the world, yet He loves little ol' me. Astounding.

Jesus. My Savior, my brother, my friend. He risked everything for me, depended wholly on Papa, and died in my place. I nailed Him to that cross, I spit in His face, I beat Him and whipped Him and pounded those thorns onto His head. But He took it. He didn't strike me down, didn't even fight to save Himself. He gave Himself up for the very person who tortured Him - me.

The demons. Many demons tempt me off and on. I've just completed a course on settingcaptivesfree.com to fend off Masturbation and Sexual Immorality - remnants of our time together. Now I'm committed to fighting Gluttony at the same site.

Even though we can't be friends, I think He can use me to love you from afar. Maybe. Or perhaps our time together is truly over and I did all I could to show you Truth.

But I'll never forget when I confessed I wanted to kill myself, when the IM died, and you kept calling and calling until I answered so we could talk it through. That's one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.

Hour of Need

Hour of Need

Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me and I shall be saved: for thou art my praise.
Jeremiah 17:14

I am your healer, your joy, your Lord. You bid Me, your Lord, come. Did you not know that I am here? With noiseless footfall I draw near to you.
Your hour of need is the moment of My coming.
Could you know My love, could you measure My longing to help, you would know that I need no agonized pleading.
Your need is My call.
(Taken from 365 One-Minute Devotions: God Calling)

Firm Part 2

I knew this would happen. I saw a message in my inbox, knew it was you (I hate that we're still mentally connected like that), and sighed. I knew you'd ask to open up communication lines.

But I can't. I won't. I won't go back to that. You say we've both grown up and grown past that. I've grown past it, but I don't want to put myself in that position again. I was obsessed with you. I remember sobbing my heart out because I missed one phone call from you after not hearing from you in a week. That's not healthy. That isn't ok.

Even seeing that message in my inbox set my adrenaline rushing. My heart pounds, and everything freezes. It was the same way when we were friends. I'd hear the phone ring and rush to answer. I'd see an email from you and curse my Internet for not loading quickly enough.

We know each other as well as ever. You suggested that you were curious now that our lives have gone their separate ways. I've been wondering what you've been up to for ages and I keep praying for you wherever you are. Your talent is impeccable and I hope you're doing things with it. I'm as boring as ever so ... (Of course, my King is not yours, so that's a huge rift already; you can't feel my joy, and that sucks. I wish you could.)

Ugh. And now I'm considering Adam again. I hate the loyalty card he played; what use is loyalty if you're loyal to the wrong thing? The bright side is I think I've finally forgiven him for blowing me off when I confessed to considering suicide.

And I wish I had the nerve to casually bring you up while talking to Lana or Thomas. How useless, not to mention pathetic. She's well aware of my rawness with you; we try not to bring you up. I'm terrified Thomas will stab me because of the whole thing, but he hasn't yet. He was so loyal to you... He loved you. He barely opens up to me.

And you didn't even do what I asked you to! Geez, my last request to you and you - But then again, I wasn't very clear. We said a lot that day, we've written a lot to each other (and our fight is so extensive I can't even remember the sequential order; all I know is I started it), written about each other, deleted/hidden comments (something else that extraordinarily pissed me off about you; I explicitly told you NOT to bring Lana into this), and whatever else.

Though there is one thing that I really want to know. Awhile ago you mentioned you were trying to find help for me. I'd like to know what you were talking about. I would've loved therapy; a bit late now -praise the Lord for getting me over it- but I appreciate the gesture. Though it was my fault. Lana knows about this too, but again, awkward much?

Maybe you'll say I dwell too much on the past. But it's hard to remember my rollercoaster with you, my two depressing years of high school, my isolation, my self-loathing, and willingly say, sure I'll go back to that.

I don't think I'll reply back.

*Names changed to protect the innocent.
**Subject to deletion.

Happy Frickin Birthday

I am an emotional wreck right now.

My friend, Erin, celebrated her birthday yesterday with a sleepover (her real birthday is today). She invited several friends over to her house to eat cake and have fun and swim, then left the invite open ended for a sleepover. I wasn't able to make the festivities, so I opted to spend the night. Surprisingly I remembered all of the girls in the group and they welcomed me rather warmly, despite the fact we haven't see each other in over a year (and we're only acquaintances). They are a beautiful group and I wish I could've hung out with them more often.

At about 4PM today, Liz steals Cathy's seat on the couch. Cathy and Erin start torturing her to get her to give up the seat (stuff like singing really high pitched, hitting buzzers, turning up the volume on the TV, spraying Liz with water, etc.). Melissa, Mary, and I decide to leave the room and not get involved (i.e. neutral Switzerland style) while the torture continues.

Then all of the sudden Liz, Cathy, and Erin start screaming at each other and make their way towards our side of the house. The three of us realize that this has become way more than a seat on the couch - there's some deeper issues coming out here. Doors get slammed, Liz runs off, Erin chases her down. Melissa finally gets Mary and me out of the house to the backyard to escape the screaming fight. I call my mom so she can get me the heck away from this madness.

Liz has left and Erin and Cathy meet us outside. Then Liz's older sister Patty shows up. The first words out her mouth to Cathy? "How can you call yourself a Christian?"

Oh. God. Help.

The ish has just hit the fan and Mary, Melissa, and I are stuck between the inaccessible gate from the back to the front yard and the door back inside since the fight between Erin -stepping in to defend Cathy- and Patty is happening in front of it. Erin kicks Patty out and that's the end of that. Supposedly Liz is breaking off her friendship with Erin and Cathy, and Patty seems to be in favor of that idea.

I'm pretty much at a loss for words. I've been trying to pray but all I'm getting out is "Lord, please." Maybe more to come/update.

*Names have been changed.

America's Got Talent 8-3-10

Alright, people. Tonight was the last quarter-finals round for America's Got Talent. Out of the 48 contestants the judges sent on from Vegas to Hollywood, only sixteen are moving on into the semi-finals. For the past four weeks, the forty-eight contestants were split into four groups of twelve. I didn't see last week's contestants, not that it mattered because none of them mattered to me and I don't even know who went on, but this week's was jam friggin packed.

The first two acts (Da Maniacs and NU Covenant respectively) didn't appeal to me much. Just another dance group and another singing group. Both didn't do that well. Act number three was Anna and Patryk (sick way to spell that, dude). The young dance duo kicked serious butt with a hip hop tap rendition of "Candy Man". Verrrry good.

Act four was also fantastic - Lindsey Stirling. She plays the violin. And hip hop dances. At the same time. Epic? I think so. However, when she dances she tends to lose her beat count on the violin, resulting in a lot of missed notes. But she rocks crazy hard. As much as I'd like to see her again, I'd love to see her improve her act and make a huge comeback.

The fifth act was Doogie Horner. Now I love comedy, but I feel that since comics have their own show Last Comic Standing, I'm not keen about sending him on.

Now, act six. Rudi Macaggi is one of those danger acts, kind of in the realm of sword swallower and fire thrower. Except he does crazy circus/acrobatic stunts like, oh, standing on his head on a tower of wine/glasses like in the pic. Today, he decided to FREAK ME AND EVERYONE ELSE OUT ON PURPOSE by doing a handstand on two vertical concrete blocks over a buzzing saw blade, then pushing over the blocks and driving his head inches above the saw. Everyone thought he fell, everyone tripped out, I cried a little, but it was a brilliant strategic move.

Acts six and seven were singers (Taylor Mathews, who I didn't watch and Mary Ellen, who's kind of a joke of the show). Mathews is probably a hit with the ladies, so I am a bit concerned that he'll go on. Mary Ellen...aye. She's hilarious, but definitely not the winner of this show.

Ah yes; ArcAttack, act number nine. The entire audience had to move outside to a stage built just for their performance since it would've blown every fuse in the studio in Hollywood. With a fascinating rendition of "Iron Man", and a hint of Infamous the video game, ArcAttack utilizes electricity in their performance. They make all of their props, instruments included, to conduct electricity, much like those weird shock globes that change colors.

Ohhhhhhh my favorite performance of the night - act ten. I am erratically in love with Prince Poppycock for two reasons. One, I loooooove his fashion sense. I want his clothes. And wigs. And makeup. Two, his voice is beautiful. I have never loved opera so much. Weirdly enough, I've not exposed myself to much opera outside of the hint of it we get from Phantom of the Opera. If I had this guy's CD, opera would be a new, mostly listened to genre on my iPod.


Act eleven (geez back to back to back here on favorites) was Murray the magician. I couldn't find a good pic of him performing any of his illusions, but tonight's was astounding. In his earlier qualifying round, Murray managed to make a Ferrari appear. Tonight, he made the classic girl in a cage turn into a tiger. Then made the girl reappear twenty or so feet away at the judges' table.

Act twelve was yet another dance act, Strikers All Stars. As you might notice, I don't like dance acts for the same reason I'm not big on comedians or singers in America's Got Talent - dancers have their own show, So You Think You Can Dance(though group acts don't apply there). Singers have the same issue though, since American Idol is also soloists only.

Seven of my ten votes went to Prince Poppycock; the other three went to Rudi Macaggi, since I fear he may have been lost in the insanity of the second half of the talents. This episode is by far the hardest I've had to predict. Out of the four contestants that go on, America's votes pick three, and the judges pick the last. I feel Murray and ArcAttack will certainly go on from votes. I think Rudi will too. Prince Poppycock had better, or I will cry. I'm hoping if America didn't vote for him, then the judges will see he's got the best talent out of the remaining talents.

We'll see tomorroooooow!

What're your talents?

Much Love, God Bless!
EPD