Sleeping at Last.

When the world welcomes us in,
We’re closer to Heaven than we’ll ever know.
They say this place has changed,
But strip away all of the technology
And you will see
That we all are hunters,
Hunting for something that will make us okay.

Here we lay alone in hospital beds,
Tracing life in our heads;
But all that is left
Is that this was our entrance and now it’s our exit,
As we find our way home.

All the blood and all the sweat
That we invested to be loved
Follows us into our end,
Where we begin to understand

That we are made of love,
And all the beauty stemming from it.
We are made of love,
And every fracture caused by the lack of it.

“You were a million years of work,”
Said God and His angels, with needle and thread.
They kissed your head and said,
“You’re a good kid and you make us proud.
So just give your best and the rest will come,
And we’ll see you soon.”

All the blood and all the sweat
That we invested to be loved
Follows us into our end,
Where we begin to understand

That maybe Hollywood was right:
When the credits have rolled and the tears have dried,
The answers that we have been dying to find
Are all pieced together and, somehow,
Made perfectly mine.

We are made of love,
And all the beauty stemming from it.
We are made of love,
And every fracture caused by the lack of love.

-----------

yes, yes.
yes.
undeniably yes.

Just do your best, and the rest will come.

I am disappointed with Copeland's new CD. I will continue to listen to it to give it a full chance to grow on me, but in all it seems to be lacking in innovation.

I love working at Claymore. Steaming milk is so satisfying, especially when I get the real silk microfoam. yeehaw

Today was a beautiful day, as tired as I am. It is not over- I must get some homework completed before sleep tonight.

I had a wonderful conversation with a man today in Boston. He is a wonderful person- growing in faith and fighting his own demons and battles, inside and out. We prayed together and I know God is at work in his life. He is searching for work, but followed to every encounter in his job-search with his record; which is not the best. He regrets so much, and feels alone. But in all things he acknowledged that he is not starving and not freezing. He still is homeless and carries everything he really owns on a 4GB flash drive. He's brilliant; very naturally inclined for learning; languages especially- Hebrew, for one. Computer language, another. But he has been teaching himself pretty much the whole way. There is so much more, much more than I know- but I feel so blessed to have had this conversation today.

I also find it interesting that the majority of homeless people that I have talked to in Boston are not favoring Obama. Interesting? Yes. Perhaps we should consult those who we hope the government will be helping and benefiting before jumping on the bandwagon of whoever seems to be the most liberal and poor-loving. Whatever the hell that means.
I'm babbling, sorry. But I can't help but think about how much the government was never meant to be in control of as much money as it is, or as much as it may be in the very near future. Taking money out of the pockets of people trying to work in this economy will not solve anything. The government is not efficient in handing out money to anyone. There should be more state-control and state-made decisions. Small government to keep the country more democratic. That is the point, people. the founding fathers were using their brains all the way back then. Let's not forget what that means.

Now, I am not trying to sway anyone one way or another, but trying to flush out my own confusion. I am an independent, and I feel it is the only safe way to go. I will NOT be swayed by your labels. But dang, it's hard being in the middle of it all.

there is more on this, but Hebrew is waiting. amongst my other piles of work.


You're a million years of work.

and everybody here will evaporate

Today is a good day.

I feel the week being stuffed to every minute, but right now I can sit here and look at my roommate sitting in the sun and appreciate the beauty that is outside and all around.

I still cannot smell, but I believe my room smells somewhat like a pumpkin field.

I cannot wait for warm spices and cider, and cranberry-everythings.

Oh I love cooking with cranberries. so versatile. I learned yesterday from Meredith that there is a killer recipe for lentil cookies. Yes. Lentil. And so I imagine for Thanksgiving I will be making some killer vegetarian dishes- and I imagine spice-and dried-fruit-laden lentil cookies may be in order. I will be looking up that recipe very soon.

Thank God for the internet. Seriously. I mean, I can find pretty much whatever information I need on here- so I can let the precedent of factual knowledge take more of a backseat and I can focus on intellectual and philosophical thinking and communication. So much for the information age! It is the thinking age, friends. We need to be moving towards that with great speed. Education is lacking a lagging behind and our children are suffering from not being taught how to think for themselves. Let's engage the internet, the text messaging, IM. Let's communicate with each other in every way possible- to speak to people where they are. Not forgetting the beauty of face:face communication- but striving to include the world that our children are living in. So that they can feel like they are moving forward in their education; striving for a higher understanding of the use of technology in real communication. Let us learn to communicate. Let's learn to write our thought effectively- not just regurgitate information that is written in badly-communicative text books from the eighties.

These are not random thoughts of mine, but rather something I have been thining for a long time. None of it is close ot being perfected.

------------
and everybody here is cloud
and everybody here will evaporate
cause you came up from the ground
from a million little pieces
have you found where your place is?
have you found where your place is?
have you found where your place is?

you've been spending your time
thinking about why you think so much
if there was ever a time
now would be the time to see
your time here is limited

and everybody here is a crowd
we all walk around with a million faces
somebody turn the lights out
there's so much more to see
in the darkest places
in the darkest places
in the darkest places

everybody here is waiting for the next creation
they say come come come

Yikes

What the hell? I just walk in here and everyone's frozen- like, they're just stopped in their tracks in the middle of doing something. Huh, woah, I mean, no one is moving. Except me- is this a joke- is this the craziest thing? Am I insane here? God. What the hell is going on. Like, this girl- she's in the middle of blowing her nose. You know? Seriously, how embarrassing. I bet some dude's on the john right now, pissing his brains out. What the hell. This is the craziest. Woah-maybe, this is death. Maybe I'm dead! What the hell maybe I'm dead! ...Death is weird. This is insane. I wonder maybe if I'm frozen in someone else's death or whatever? I wonder if I'm smiling-- or maybe I have spaghetti sauce all over my face! Jeez that would be really terrible. No, wait, what the hell am I saying? This is crazy, this is just insane. Where am I, jeez, I just walk in here and everyone's-"


---------
my contemporary monologue for Voice class.

woah, that is bizarre.

and I, being a leech, look for comfort like it is my job.

I don't care what anyone thinks, I like Something Corporate's I Woke Up in a Car.
Pandora just put it on, and I forgot how much I like it. So high school!!

today is a wonderful thing.
I am halfway done with my box of kleenex with the orange gerber daisy on the front.
in contemplation, as much as my homework is gathering weight, I just want to sit here and listen to music.

I'm realizing this blog has no purpose.

I almost don't care. I'm doing this for me.





watching your body lean
against the wall in that picture.
it was a mirror. you are in two places inside of it-
half invisible in both.
There you are, trapped without my irritating literature to
help you comprehend what is it.
I don't think you can hear
me now. or,
now.
or now.

what is it, that makes us die?
Did I ask to be birthed screaming
obscenities in my eyes before I know how to speak?

I miss you these days.
I see you've shifted two half-ghosts;
one part watching the lens, testing the wall for it's strength.
the other, looking down.
at a sole mark on the stair?
Chafe it out with a stubborn foot
tuh, tuh, tuh, tuh,
dispute the way of things;
toes tight and curled under from the cold.
chuck it, you death. chuck it.

tuh tuh.

hastily staunched foot from friction over and over,
perpendicular chest to the left-
swaying mockingly with the movement;
slight shock in the hands, thumping head in rhythm.
it is all obnoxious: all this half intangible.
wanting so badly a name
but never, ever, asking for one.

October 11, 2008

Trevi. on a glorious day. pink walls.
across from wonderful friends,
crunching pretzels in the shape of bats.
sniffling with my nose
bouncing my knee
crouching my shoulders (bad)
straightening up
tilting my head, observing art
smelling chilled coffee drinks
through my right nostril.


-----
thanks, Jeff

When they come for you.

"There's no time for on-the-job training, my friend."
If that is true, it sucks for all of us.



It's fall out there. I'm wearing sweats. I want to drink cider from a thermos, and I want to sit in crunchy grass.

instead, I am almost void of sleep, out of food, and slightly anxious about two exams tomorrow.

Yet, there are things to be joyful for.
Lovedrug, for instance.

Now autumn brings the beautiful things,
where all you give comes back to you like the crown upon my king.
Your life's a song, so sing along
before the silence swallows you and leaves you like a pawn.
watch angels in the morning become a devil's afternoon,
I will panic in the evening underneath the crashing moon.
So fall in love while you can
still hold your head up high, and pretend that you're alive again.
It's friends that leave you here in the end,
so hold your head up high and pretend that you're alive.

Your friends, now ghosts, are screaming "Bury us,"
they said, while panicking, my mind was broken.

--------

and beautiful, beautiful people.

Thus Saith the Lord.

So, The Prince of Egypt is an amazing film, in it's own right. I miss the times of eating grilled cheese and tomato soup and watching this film in the middle of the day.

This being a crazy week, I have really nothing to say to fit into the 15 minutes I have to post something right now- I have to get back to Hebrew. But I have felt more calm since I started to write these things again, and I figured now is as good a time as ever for calm.

after borrowing some lip gloss earlier I now remember why I don't ever have lip gloss. My lips are sticking together like I spread them with honey. and they have a false sense of shininess that can be attributed to nothing other than an unnatural lip. It is altogether a worthless thing.

Chapstick.

I have other revelations to discuss. but alas, no time

to this weekend: you come at an alarming rate. please let us crash together rather smoothly, it would be much appreciated.

Things happen, and there is no control coming from me at all. This would not bother me if it were not for the hurt that I see in people around me, and how much I can do nothing.

today IS the thousandth day ever.

and there are no clouds today.

I miss Scrabble in my life.

Class in 30, no sleep, foggy head.

Pacing beside the fields of somewhere else.

To walk with weights tied around my hips

As a horse or some other animal of burden.

Why was I not an oxen-

birthed to be fat and happy,

dumbly discouraged from an education;

calmed by an electric wire,

buzzed into simulation.

Why was I not a bird-

fitted with air-filled bones,

heavy with feathers, puffed

with sensation;

the called out ones.

Or a candle-

stiffly holding shape under heat,

centered with a cord;

giving way slowly like a cat in water

gripping the raft, gripping the raft-

with every hope bent upon the

unkempt claws dug in.

Why must I be an

Orangutan,

a frumpish pear-shape with dwarfish arms

to drape stupidly over an uneven body,

inept for any use in propulsion?

stagnant in brains,

collared voice on a chain,

a sweet nexus altered.

Yet I find myself in the land of the living.

amongst models of seasons

amongst an overwhelmed shelf,

amongst will-call;

an ink-stain of improperly removed

security devices blotting out

so much of my memory.

But an orangutan. The Orangutan.

the awkward body shuffle of a crowd

pre-destined to see a Holy Light-

looking forward; always forward;

always forward.

always forward.

isn’t it something:

never upward.

Unintelligible Musings and Complaints.

I don't dress well. It occurred to me today in my rampant state of trying to make it to chapel on time, in the five minutes I had left to put on clothing.
Sometimes, this bothers me. I can't explain why other than I do enjoy clothing. I enjoy fabrics and unique pieces, and I like being eclectic. But the fact is, my desire for simplicity overrules the desire to dress well. I don't really shop. Most of the clothing I own was free, and a lot of it is gone now back into the thrift life-cycle.

Ah, why is this in my brain today? I see lots of girls with tons of clothes (some of them definitely being my friends, no worries), with awesome fashions and cool things. And I think, hm I could come up with that; if I had the clothes. But I don't. And I think I feel more at ease with myself about that. But I wonder if my feeling of being looked down on for not dressing very well with tons of outfits is just my imagination. I mean, I won't change who I am and what I wear to be a groupie, but it seems so hypocritical to own a lot of clothes. I can't wrap my head around it.
I want to make people feel good about themselves, but I'm not going to sacrifice myself for it.

Perhaps this seems harsh. I'm sure it is. There is a lot going through my head these days. Right now, clothes just sprang to my mind.


Along with Palin. oi. life is but on the edge of a knife.