honestly

you may not know how hard it often is for me to put my words on this page knowing that people read it. it was way easier when no one knew it was here:)

but i think it's important for this one to be here, whether it makes me feel safe or not.

i realized that i'm really good at hiding. so good in fact, that i can convince myself that i'm not. somewhere along the line, it just hurt too badly and i ran away from the things God had put inside of me. one by one he's putting them back in, but it's painful.

when i was young, there was no doubt in my mind that i deserved to be whole.
now, everyday i have to fight the part of me that believes there's nothing good in me. that i don't deserve the place to encourage people, or comfort them, or speak truth to them and see positive change. once, i never doubted.

i thrived on going into places with broken people... seeing the truth of who they are... and telling them what was there. many changed. many turned away, but it didn't hurt as badly then...

somewhere along the way i gave up on people. that's what i mean when i say "i prophesy to sticks and stones and walls because it does not hurt when they turn away". i gave up on having anything to do with bringing life to anyone. i assumed that such times were over... i had messed up too badly... and i should stick to business, cause that's what i do well.

apparently, i was wrong. i woke up on saturday, mourning the part of me that was missing. i don't know if this is coherant, but i feel it's important for me to share. i've been hiding in a cave, because i thought i wasn't safe. and i really wasn't... but i was never supposed to hide. i don't know when i started apologizing for my faith. but God told me that i was wrong the whole time... and if i hadn't have ran away, i wouldn't still feel the pain from all the yesterdays.

so here i am. not hiding. as in talking about where i am in the middle of it, and not recounting a watered down version of something i've already walked through, on my own. i don't really know where to go from here... as i don't really want to look into myself enough to find where i lost what i did. and i don't even know where to start looking.

but here's to trying...

/

i prophesy to sticks and stones and walls because it does not hurt when they turn me away.
when the dead cry out against me, i defend nothing because i have no name
but the faceless lost remember, and know i am still the same.

my apologies

god will not send a burning bush to lead you to the right
place when he has given you grace and a brain
i'm sorry that life is so fucking hard but if you drank
from a dirty well in a dump in the desert i would feel pity.

who thinks that they have no choice in life?
you turn a way and change your world.
just pick something, damn it, and go for it.
just learn something and stop being a fool.

and if you fail, don't blame the fates
the person at fault was you
but so what? you pick yourself up and dust off the mistakes
remember where you tripped and fell on your face
and then pay attention to where you're going next time.

and if you get lost, don't blame it on god.
he gave you eyes and ears and a way to remember
and the simple things, while important, are not where to stumble
just laugh it off and buy a map. then the next time, turn towards
where you want to go, and not away.

i'm sorry that life is so hard
but i really don't care.
if you're wandering alone and have no one to
tell you where to go, is it possible you drove them away?

fuck it all.
who gives a damn about life if there's no living?
and if you wake up tomorrow and find no meaning in
the world, don't blame anyone. not the fates, not god, not even
the ones you love. meaning is only in context, and
is pointless if you forget to wake up.

shake off the daisies, you're not dead yet
you've still got time
whoever you've buried will wait.

death is only chasing you, and lies are everywhere
you turn, and it's easy to forget who you are,
and everything is confusing.

and if i lose my imagination, and live only in the prose
and forget the ones who love me
and swallow death
i have only cheated me.

but that's just today.

nostalgia?

i never thought i'd live long enough to hear my husband say, "man, mosh pits just aren't the same as they were when we were younger."

if anyone brings back flannel, i'm hiding until it's over.

;)

crux

so what do you do when you unexpectedly find the center of your paranoia while watching Smallville?

4

nce upon a time there was a monster, who was chasing a princess. she grew tired of running and hid in a tall tower, with no door, and one window. everyday she looked out at the world she was missing.

it took a small boy to convince her that she could live without her tower. even longer for her to be convinced that the monster was just life. you see, even though the monster's strike is always fatal, we have many sleeps before that day. and so we wake up, and try to remember not to run away from life.

this small boy kept growing, and all too soon the princess could see a glimmer of the man that he would become. she knew he would be loved, for she loved him very much and so did his father (whom she decided to stop trying to hide from as well:) and together they made sure to suround their small family with lots of people who could love the small boy.

and she built him a house, with lots of windows, and beautiful gardens, called hope. and she told him that whenever the world was dark and gray, to remember that hope can live forever, if you let it.

and she looked into the sky every night as she tucked him into his bed under the stars and was very grateful she got to keep the small boy, for as long as Time would allow.

and if there were less sleeps before the monster's strike... then the princess was grateful she chose try living... and who better to make everyday worth finding hope than her small boy, and his father?

un

this is a song that justin and i wrote.
it actually has music, not that we plan on singing it in public. but i really like the words.

undiscovered beautiful
undiscovered terrible
red wine
touch your fingers to my lips
singe my skin
i’m drunk again

undecided
stay or go
bleeding all is all i know
drying tears from drying eyes
dark and long the lonely night
here again

find me now, my closest friend
warm my hands we’ll dance again
breathe again
your laugh-lined smile will seem so new
i’ll dance for you
just sing for me.

door

here comes the next thing
as the dust settles from the wave of change
i think somewhere my heart was torn
the indecision changed my way of life
and the things of then can be no more.

i miss the yesterdays
i miss the way things used to be
but that was so long ago
there's a new life to build now.
a new life to give now.

i cannot be my father
who could not admit the truth
i cannot be my mother
who can't see depth behind the mirror

i cannot even be you.
you would have me torn and empty
you would take away the things i've seen
one by one, i'd lose my memories
and then all that's left would be young.

though innocense is tempting
i cannot deny what i have witnessed
i cannot deny the blood that i've shed
so i will build the temple.

i will be the one who remembers.
and when i'm done, you'll take me home.
it's a long road that stretches before me
so when i'm lost, pleast take me home.

fear of spiders

i realize that a fear of spiders is an irrational fear.

who would really fear the unknown, the unpredictable things, if they were all so small you could step on them? granted, there's that whole poisonous bite issue, but how many people do you know who have been fatally bitten by a poisonous spider? i mean sure, you get that acid hole in the arm going on sometimes, which isn't so cool. or the big black bruise-looking mark that hurts like hell... also not fun, i've heard.

but i think i just fear irrational things.

happy days

the sun has been out 3 days in a row
i just made lea laugh
my husband is content
my son has the giggles
and my allergy meds are making me loopy, not sleepy.

it's a good day:)

fingerpainted memory

maybe someday i will jump from the solid ground and you will find me no more. the wind has little preference for the direction it goes. maybe there will be some as yet undiscovered place that i will see, and find my way home from there, and then i'll be an adventurer. i always envied those who found america first... to cast yourself from all you know and find a new way must be a heady sensation.

and as i grow old and each memory of those unfound places crumbles with time the beautiful scraps left behind will have wonderful colors.

i will dip my finger in each pigment and caress the canvas.

and when i am gone, no one will miss me, for i will have left my dreams behind to be savored.

how it all began

the place we came from has nearly burned to the ground. all the old neighborhood haunts feel like a ghost town. you can see the memories pass through the empty halls, and it makes you wonder if you were really there, or did you dream it all?

but the beauty never fades, even when in the memory it is misplaced.

i remember that one time, when we drove in the rain and it was so quiet. the peace came down with every drop and i remember hoping that when i left the momentary sanctuary the cares of life would not return. i was so old when i was younger... my bones would ache and my mind was weak and i always had a funeral to go to. i wore the world heavily on my shoulders. the sharpness of my cynical thoughts would tear anyone to pieces who stood there long enough to bear my gaze, and i rarely left the dead horse alone.

i think the fear of feeling had worked its way to the depths of me, like a rheumatism for the young and frequently disappointed.

you know, somewhere on my porch you can still find the ashes we left behind when you once again told me that i'm not insane, and one day i would feel the wind beneath my feet. i wanted to believe.

i think i'm quite lucky. not many souls have so many to walk the path with, and i have found those who will not doubt me. and when you do, i remember the days behind us and all the path we've cleared. i'll take my chance and forge ahead to places unknown. and when we learn how to fly, i won't even miss the weeds.

soothe

the taste was still lingering in her mouth.

too many places have left their mark, and now she's getting careless. and thoughtless. she hurriedly reached for her things and tried to discount the nagging sensation that she was not who she set out to be. in her rushed attempt to find solace from yesterday's wounds, she had given away her faith, piece by piece.

as the cold wind hit her face when she stepped out on the street, she ignored the fact that when she looked her friend in the eye as she passed, there wasn't a hint of recognition.

explain

so we had a perfectly natural miracle today. jesus came without fanfare, and dropped the line about hiding in the caves and running to the hills and woe to those who are with child. he came in a bush that burned but did not ash. i touched the scars on his hand and knew i saw a mirage, for only my imaginiation could dream up such a powerful charasmatic experience as one would have when dipping your fingers in the crevices left by his wounds. how odd, that i smelled a mirage. the scent of jasmine mixed with dead leaves hinted at my subconsious, and i wondered at the possible prophetic meaning.

do you call me heretical for believing in what i could not have seen? i would have to remind you that i have touched the face of God, and he found me impure and wanting, and so he gave me a new shirt and ushered me into his home. a feast was waiting for me, and as i gorged myself on the bountiful plenty i found before me i was grateful i was no longer a sinner.

sin' auld lang syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.
We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.


good night, and good luck.


http://tinyurl.com/2r9fb

the darkest night of the year

chaos
broken
starlight
pouring
shadows
through
the
lesser
light
towards
imagined
desire
to
find
yesterday.

should
help
descend?
i
think
the
morning
should
awaken
soon.

vodka
laughter
smokes
cookies
truth.

my christmases have improved.

sensory

insane drain... the drip has just dropped and the plink on the sink is enough to drive me mad. but to walk across the room to fix it seems like wasted exertion. my drink was drank and now i'm bled dry. you'd think the quick beat that moves the life from heart to toes and up my spine would take less time, but i'm hemorrhaging thought out my ear everytime you cause me to question.

but i beg of you to fulfill the need of me.

i'm crumbling. the parchment upon which i wrote my last lines has been burned, for lack of water to quench the flames. but i will still lay with my words and coax them to open their eyes. there's a leaky pen between me and my next turned phrase, and when all the drops seep out we'll see what remains.

blink and you'll find it.

eggshells

i had an interesting experience recently.

i developed a deal with God at one point, sometime in my early teenage years, that if he thinks he gets to run the universe, he has to deal with my opinions and questions. the first interesting thing is that he took the deal.

the second interesting thing is that he just told me that i don't get to do that anymore. it was somewhat jolting... i don't think i realized how comfortable i was with that, and how odd it is to not have it. now when i question, he tells me i know the answer, i just don't like it. now when i tell him my opinions, he tells me that i'm an adult and i need to just stop talking about it and deal with it. it's rather interesting. on one hand, it made me feel kind of stupid, as i realized how obnoxious i had been to him. on the other, i think he just told me that i've grown up.

i honestly thought i would spend my whole life as a broken person. i really didn't realize that he wanted me to stand with him, and walk with him, not just spend my entire life in broken humilation.

i used to hate everything about myself. i still have scars in places i cut myself. i can still remember what it was like at night when there would be so many voices around me i couldn't sleep. i know that i used to starve myself to make me a better person, and i even punished myself when my mom wouldn't because i was yearning so much to matter enough to be disciplined. i used to cry when someone didn't like me. i used to hate myself if i made a mistake. i often ran from people who loved me, and i would push people away if they could see in. i was always angry and always afraid. the times when people thought i was righteous, even when i was young, they didn't realize that i was two people. not because i wanted to be, but because i was so fractured i could be nothing else. i wanted power to protect myself. i wanted money to make me safe.

i'm writing this because i also hid away, and was so ashamed for not being able to control my weaknesses. it wasn't until this year that i realized the depth of my misunderstanding of grace. all i needed was to give in, and let go, and know that i'm loved. i never needed to prove anything in the first place. yeshua took the weight off my back and the craziness from my mind and while i still, every day, have to choose to eat and not be afraid and to accept love and forgive i know that i can.

i have come a long way from the girl who hid in the closet to cry.

i am so lucky to be alive. a big thank you on that end goes to my parents, shawn and missy. my mom was so broken at the time that she could barely function herself. they took a really obnoxious teenager in when no one else really knew what to do with me. i don't think they did either, but they loved me enough to be honest and tell me that i was running from life. their oldest son is now their second teenager. and i am two years older than they were when they "adopted" me.

thanks:)

selah's super gatorade

"all you need is 1/4 cup of water, 1/4 cup of sugar, 10/4 cups of gator, and 1/4 cup of gatorade. and that's how you make super gatorade."






can i be 3 again, please?

so i totally forgot

how much i like creating. even though i'm so overloaded i can't really sleep (something that i will have to get better about), i wake up happy every day.

pretty damn cool.