I wrote this at like, 2 this morning. So I know it's not the best. but I really liked the way it turned out.
A face in the mirror that is not your own. White cinder block walls. Empty water bottles and pieces of paper strewn across the floor. A bottle of pain medication sitting on the shelf above the sink.
The only reminder that you’re still human. Or is it?
A voice pounds on the door of your sanctuary. “Five minutes! We are a go in less than five, you hear?”
Headphones slide over skin and hair until they find a place to sit. Music blasts into your ears- louder than last night. Eyes stare into vacant eyes on the other side of the glass. Alien meets alien, here, alone, in the cinderblock room.
Words flash before your closed eyes. Rifling through the pages littering the floor, the correct one is plucked from the wreckage and read aloud.
‘Am I ever going to enough?’
Your own alien eyes watch you; tempt you. When it becomes too much, your fist connects with the mirror. Shatters the figure inside it.
Blood drips from your knuckles. Again a voice pulls you back, back to the cinder block room. “It’s time.”
The door of the cell opens, leading out to the gallows. No one speaks. Not to you, the alien. The alien who has it all.
Chaos gets louder. Tension slice through the air; your air. It’s like this every night. You let your eyes drift shut and operate by instinct. The breeze against your skin gets warmer as the rush of people comes closer. Hands reach out into the darkness and strap you into your chariot.
Rigging and hydraulics creak as the box rises upward. Lights flash. Music screams in your ear. The chaos is defining itself. Defining you.
People are chanting. Chanting the names of the alien who lives in a white, cinder block room. Chanting your name.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Is this really the best we can be?
Alright- prepare yourself. This could get ugly. Maybe I can preface this with saying I do not mean to offend or disgust anyone. I am way more offended and disgusted by myself then I think I could ever convince you to be. You know what? it might just be time to be offended with ourselves- as long as we offend ourselves and not each other. deal? good.
I went to HeavenFest for the first time this past weekend. And don't get me wrong, it was amazing in its own way- God was there and waiting for people to turn to Him. I'm just not sure we were ready to be there. I know this is an 'outreach' concert, so there had to have been lots of unsaved people there. It might have been half 'non- Christian,' it might have been 2/3rds, it might have been 1/8th. I don't know. And that was what was so sick. I was there, walking around, having a good time, when it hit me. If you were just some kid off the street, and you didn't hear the lyrics to the songs, you would have NO. IDEA. that was a 'Christian' concert. I saw girls dressed in nothing but bikini tops and mini skirts worshiping, raising their hands. I saw guys in 'Jesus Saves' T-shirts, cussing a blue streak.
What is wrong with us? are we seriously NO DIFFERENT from the rest of the world? I'm talking to myself more than anyone else here, but still! I wear clothes I see other girls wearing and think to myself 'wow do i look that in that shirt?' I look for the most attractive clothes I can find while still not breaking any rules. I gush over guys I have no right to be gushing over. (Hello? these people are movie stars with wives that would be totally creeped out I'm sure.) I'm just as bad as 'they' are. We're called to something so much better. We have a hope they can't imagine. We have a reason to be different, a reason to be somebody they can't become without grace. what are we doing, taking that for granted and letting ourselves slide into their world. We've become antinomians!
(an·ti·no·mi·an[an-ti-noh-mee-uh
n]
I went to HeavenFest for the first time this past weekend. And don't get me wrong, it was amazing in its own way- God was there and waiting for people to turn to Him. I'm just not sure we were ready to be there. I know this is an 'outreach' concert, so there had to have been lots of unsaved people there. It might have been half 'non- Christian,' it might have been 2/3rds, it might have been 1/8th. I don't know. And that was what was so sick. I was there, walking around, having a good time, when it hit me. If you were just some kid off the street, and you didn't hear the lyrics to the songs, you would have NO. IDEA. that was a 'Christian' concert. I saw girls dressed in nothing but bikini tops and mini skirts worshiping, raising their hands. I saw guys in 'Jesus Saves' T-shirts, cussing a blue streak.
What is wrong with us? are we seriously NO DIFFERENT from the rest of the world? I'm talking to myself more than anyone else here, but still! I wear clothes I see other girls wearing and think to myself 'wow do i look that in that shirt?' I look for the most attractive clothes I can find while still not breaking any rules. I gush over guys I have no right to be gushing over. (Hello? these people are movie stars with wives that would be totally creeped out I'm sure.) I'm just as bad as 'they' are. We're called to something so much better. We have a hope they can't imagine. We have a reason to be different, a reason to be somebody they can't become without grace. what are we doing, taking that for granted and letting ourselves slide into their world. We've become antinomians!
(an·ti·no·mi·an[an-ti-noh-mee-uh
n] –noun
a person who maintains that Christians are freed from the moral law by virtue of grace as set forth in the gospel.) Is Christianity nothing more than fire insurance?
We owe Him so much more. and yet all we do is walk the line, doing everything they do, just remaining inside our little Christian square of moral right and wrong. We're just like them, we just hide it. and frankly, that might just be worse. I've had serious issues with this in the past. Well, I still do now. but now I'm offended and disgusted. which for once, is a step in the right direction.
To Infinity and Beyond!
We owe Him so much more. and yet all we do is walk the line, doing everything they do, just remaining inside our little Christian square of moral right and wrong. We're just like them, we just hide it. and frankly, that might just be worse. I've had serious issues with this in the past. Well, I still do now. but now I'm offended and disgusted. which for once, is a step in the right direction.
To Infinity and Beyond!
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Random Facts.
This post is because
a. my last post was deep and i needed something funny now,
b. I have so much to say there's no way i can say it all, and
c. I happen to love random facts about people.
so here is 28 and 1/2 random facts about me.
1. I love cinnamon gum.
2. I love to chew gum in the shower. (that's not weird, is it?)
3. I keep journals. Every day. and I name them all. I have Allie, JJ, Romeo, Mercedes, and Julietta.(she's french.)
4. I have had shingles. That's an old people's disease and I got it at 6. It was AWFUL.
5. I have all of my children named already. (maybe that's a little odd.)
6. This may come as a shocker- I have read the first book in the Hunger Games and.... I wasn't impressed.
7. I have recurring dreams almost every night.
8. I have a pen name I use whenever I write.
9. My favorite numbers are 303 and 16.
10. My first real pet was a bunny named Sandy that someone in my family poisoned (on accident) while she was still a baby.
11. People think I look like a Rose or a Brooke- I've even had people call me that by mistake.
12. I don't think I'll ever learn to speak Spanish.
13. I do, in fact, have a favorite sibling.
14. I have broken my left arm twice and my right arm once and my 6th rib up on my left side once.
15. my favorite thing to do when I was little was play a game on the trampoline with Christian where we found these green packets with buttons on them that gave you whatever you wanted. Even though we had everything we lived in a cave and killed goblins and witches and monsters for food and clothing.
16. It takes me a really long time to read military time. like way longer than it should.
17. I used to watch The Sound of Music every day when I was 3, 4 and 5. I can still sing every song and quote every line.
18. I like to think I'm fairly observant. People used to think I could read minds because of it.
19. My first camera was red and had the Coca-Cola polar bear on it.
20. I have a lot of extremely irrational fears, like I'm afraid my imagination is too good for its own good and Heaven won't be as incredible as I've dreamed it to be, even though I know it's better than I can imagine. Sometimes I wonder though, because my imagination works overtime. All the time. when I'm thinking clearly I know better.
21. I love people- like LOVE people, but I hate large crowds.
22. I spell most words the old way or the British way if I can. Colour, Saviour, theatre....
23. I have been an insomniac my whole life. And I get panic attacks in the middle of the night some times when I've been stressed out.
24. I hardly ever paint my nails anything but flat colours... I dont like shiny nail polish. It either has to be flat or downright sparkly.
25. My dream car is a dark red 2011 Dodge Challenger with two black racing stripes.
26. I hate sunflowers.
27. I can't eat meat on the bone without cringing. And I can't eat cherries unless they have stems. no idea why.
28. I think it's important to know a little bit about everything so you can have an intelligent conversation with everyone- looking dumb in front of people is my pet peeve.
29. I am in love with
There. 28 and a half facts about me. :)
To Infinity and Beyond!
a. my last post was deep and i needed something funny now,
b. I have so much to say there's no way i can say it all, and
c. I happen to love random facts about people.
so here is 28 and 1/2 random facts about me.
1. I love cinnamon gum.
2. I love to chew gum in the shower. (that's not weird, is it?)
3. I keep journals. Every day. and I name them all. I have Allie, JJ, Romeo, Mercedes, and Julietta.(she's french.)
4. I have had shingles. That's an old people's disease and I got it at 6. It was AWFUL.
5. I have all of my children named already. (maybe that's a little odd.)
6. This may come as a shocker- I have read the first book in the Hunger Games and.... I wasn't impressed.
7. I have recurring dreams almost every night.
8. I have a pen name I use whenever I write.
9. My favorite numbers are 303 and 16.
10. My first real pet was a bunny named Sandy that someone in my family poisoned (on accident) while she was still a baby.
11. People think I look like a Rose or a Brooke- I've even had people call me that by mistake.
12. I don't think I'll ever learn to speak Spanish.
13. I do, in fact, have a favorite sibling.
14. I have broken my left arm twice and my right arm once and my 6th rib up on my left side once.
15. my favorite thing to do when I was little was play a game on the trampoline with Christian where we found these green packets with buttons on them that gave you whatever you wanted. Even though we had everything we lived in a cave and killed goblins and witches and monsters for food and clothing.
16. It takes me a really long time to read military time. like way longer than it should.
17. I used to watch The Sound of Music every day when I was 3, 4 and 5. I can still sing every song and quote every line.
18. I like to think I'm fairly observant. People used to think I could read minds because of it.
19. My first camera was red and had the Coca-Cola polar bear on it.
20. I have a lot of extremely irrational fears, like I'm afraid my imagination is too good for its own good and Heaven won't be as incredible as I've dreamed it to be, even though I know it's better than I can imagine. Sometimes I wonder though, because my imagination works overtime. All the time. when I'm thinking clearly I know better.
21. I love people- like LOVE people, but I hate large crowds.
22. I spell most words the old way or the British way if I can. Colour, Saviour, theatre....
23. I have been an insomniac my whole life. And I get panic attacks in the middle of the night some times when I've been stressed out.
24. I hardly ever paint my nails anything but flat colours... I dont like shiny nail polish. It either has to be flat or downright sparkly.
25. My dream car is a dark red 2011 Dodge Challenger with two black racing stripes.
26. I hate sunflowers.
27. I can't eat meat on the bone without cringing. And I can't eat cherries unless they have stems. no idea why.
28. I think it's important to know a little bit about everything so you can have an intelligent conversation with everyone- looking dumb in front of people is my pet peeve.
29. I am in love with
There. 28 and a half facts about me. :)
To Infinity and Beyond!
Sunday, June 26, 2011
why you and i aren't enough.
It's been a rough week. I've gone from having exactly no time to think about anything to having four hours solid to do almost nothing but think. That's a dangerous combination for someone as... unstable as i am :P I spent a lot of my four hours reminiscing about the past year. It's half over. 2011. Good grief. 2011 has had its rough spots. The last half of February and almost all of March was a mess. Okay, basically all of this year has been a mess. But maybe that's not such a bad thing.
Corinthians 12:9 But he said to me "my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses so that Christ's power may rest on me." When I think I'm strong, I'm pretty much worthless. Because I think I've got it all together. (Which I don't.) and that I don't need help. (Which I do.)
Thanks to the wonderful Steele Croswhite, I have had song lyrics stuck in my head for the past two days.
That happen to be really applicable right now.
"Break my heart,
take my dreams
they're only in the way
of whats better
than I ask,
or imagine."
Broken heart. stolen dreams. sounds awful, right? I see that and think..... Ew. I know how a little of that feels and it's awful. But there's a good side to that, too. (weird, I know right.) God works best in our brokenness. And this is something He's been trying to teach me for forever.
"Here I am,
at your feet,
in my brokenness complete."
"The offered lives,
of the weakest ones are
known to change the world."
He has to be everything you're built on, or you're going to have a rough go of it. If you built your life on someone else, something else, or a combination of the two, you're going to have to start over from the beginning. No other human being can satisfy your need to be loved and needed. Your identity has to be in nothing but the fact that you belong to Someone Else, the most important Someone. I can't be anything 'till He is my everything. I've seen people who put their identity in something else- a boyfriend they'll never feel completely loved by. A figure they have to be anorexic to keep. A beauty that's only skin deep. A personality trait that changes with time. A skill they let take over their entire existence. And it's never, ever, ever enough. You can't be follower of Christ if you don't let him be more important than anyone else. Which would you rather lose for a week- your Bible or your boyfriend?
think about it.
Peace out homeslice! To infinity and beyond!
KateLyn
Corinthians 12:9 But he said to me "my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses so that Christ's power may rest on me." When I think I'm strong, I'm pretty much worthless. Because I think I've got it all together. (Which I don't.) and that I don't need help. (Which I do.)
Thanks to the wonderful Steele Croswhite, I have had song lyrics stuck in my head for the past two days.
That happen to be really applicable right now.
"Break my heart,
take my dreams
they're only in the way
of whats better
than I ask,
or imagine."
Broken heart. stolen dreams. sounds awful, right? I see that and think..... Ew. I know how a little of that feels and it's awful. But there's a good side to that, too. (weird, I know right.) God works best in our brokenness. And this is something He's been trying to teach me for forever.
"Here I am,
at your feet,
in my brokenness complete."
"The offered lives,
of the weakest ones are
known to change the world."
He has to be everything you're built on, or you're going to have a rough go of it. If you built your life on someone else, something else, or a combination of the two, you're going to have to start over from the beginning. No other human being can satisfy your need to be loved and needed. Your identity has to be in nothing but the fact that you belong to Someone Else, the most important Someone. I can't be anything 'till He is my everything. I've seen people who put their identity in something else- a boyfriend they'll never feel completely loved by. A figure they have to be anorexic to keep. A beauty that's only skin deep. A personality trait that changes with time. A skill they let take over their entire existence. And it's never, ever, ever enough. You can't be follower of Christ if you don't let him be more important than anyone else. Which would you rather lose for a week- your Bible or your boyfriend?
think about it.
Peace out homeslice! To infinity and beyond!
KateLyn
Monday, June 20, 2011
KJ :)
Wow it's been a really long time since I had the chance to blog. I've been caught up in the craziness! sometime in the next few days I'll blog about more interesting stuff but for now I'm going to celebrate an anniversary :) Today is two months working on my latest writing project. two whole months of Loni and Kanye and Keni and Allie and everybody. Wow :) I'm pretty proud. so, to celebrate, I'm going to post......... something that has nothing to do with them ;) This is a character sketch of KJ Foster, who is in no way related to that project. but KJ... KJ's my baby. He was my first REAL character I created. and he's been my hero ever since :P I adore this boy.
Kristopher Jalen Foster.
November 16th, 1994. 5 foot eleven, 135 lbs. Half African- American, half Hispanic. Really skinny except for in the shoulders and arms. Buzzed straight black hair. black eyes. Wears nothing but jeans, solid colored dark t-shirts, beat up silver and black Nike Airs, and a red flat brimmed New Jersey Nets hat. Has a large (8x10inch)tattoo on the back of his right shoulder of a flaming cross. Has the words 'Forever Victorious' on his left bicep and the words 'love' and 'hate' on his knuckles. The insides of both wrists are inscribed with the word 'TenEleven' and he has the '1011' symbol on his right hip bone. has his left ear double pierced and his right single pierced. wears his deceased dad DeShawn's sterling silver watch all the time. Stubborn, a little arrogant. Unforgiving. knows how to have fun but rarely does. deals with pressure well. has a really quick and violent temper. moves and thinks quickly. really loves what is left of his family (his older brother, Tuck) and anyone he lets get close to him. really worldly wise. smart, but not book smart. (he went to school through his freshman year.) really shy unless put in tough situation or in a leadership role. good leader. very protective. has had a rough childhood; parents killed when he was 3 or 4, in and out of foster care until he and his brother ran away from an abusive home when he was 14. his brother, now 18, has legal guardianship. lives in an abandoned hotel. is part of the gang TenEleven that he leads alongside his brother. is a dance choreographer, but never lets anyone dance to his stuff. dances just a little himself. Independent to a fault and fiercely loyal.
Yeah. that's him :)
Kristopher Jalen Foster.
November 16th, 1994. 5 foot eleven, 135 lbs. Half African- American, half Hispanic. Really skinny except for in the shoulders and arms. Buzzed straight black hair. black eyes. Wears nothing but jeans, solid colored dark t-shirts, beat up silver and black Nike Airs, and a red flat brimmed New Jersey Nets hat. Has a large (8x10inch)tattoo on the back of his right shoulder of a flaming cross. Has the words 'Forever Victorious' on his left bicep and the words 'love' and 'hate' on his knuckles. The insides of both wrists are inscribed with the word 'TenEleven' and he has the '1011' symbol on his right hip bone. has his left ear double pierced and his right single pierced. wears his deceased dad DeShawn's sterling silver watch all the time. Stubborn, a little arrogant. Unforgiving. knows how to have fun but rarely does. deals with pressure well. has a really quick and violent temper. moves and thinks quickly. really loves what is left of his family (his older brother, Tuck) and anyone he lets get close to him. really worldly wise. smart, but not book smart. (he went to school through his freshman year.) really shy unless put in tough situation or in a leadership role. good leader. very protective. has had a rough childhood; parents killed when he was 3 or 4, in and out of foster care until he and his brother ran away from an abusive home when he was 14. his brother, now 18, has legal guardianship. lives in an abandoned hotel. is part of the gang TenEleven that he leads alongside his brother. is a dance choreographer, but never lets anyone dance to his stuff. dances just a little himself. Independent to a fault and fiercely loyal.
Yeah. that's him :)
Sunday, June 5, 2011
No Longer Alone
Come like you promised you would. You promised me you would come back- you promised that you'd always love me. I trusted you, believed you. So why didn't you come? Why didn't you keep your promise? You left me to die out there. Alone. Without you. you swore you'd never leave me, but where are you now? Gone. Forever. You'll never come back. you never really loved me, did you? When they came for you, you didn't fight. You didn't even seem to care. You left me, Tyler. Without a second thought. Maybe that's how you wanted it to end. Maybe this is how you planned it. You left me, Tyler! Don't you understand? The only part of you i have left is my warped memory of who you used to be. I can hear your voice in my head, fighting with me. You were the only thing i had gotten right, and now all you are is a voice- accusing and cutting and loving all at one. Sometimes I believe it's really you talking to me, just like old times. But you're not my Tyler. Not anymore. My Tyler is dead. Gone. You left me for good. For my sake. You had to- I had to let you. I just wish you hadn't left like that, left in weakness. I don't remember you like that, I don't want to. I remember you strong and opinionated.Your shouting voice in my head begs me to join you. Some days it gets so strong I might just give in to it. For you. You were my only love; maybe it would be better if i came back to you. Life without you is cold and dark. Bitter. I'm bitter. Why did you get taken, my Tyler? What did you do to deserve that? Whoever took you away, took my baby away, forced you to break a promise. A promise made to me- a promise worth forever. A forever worth anything and everything else. Your voice convinces me that it has to be time. I have to be with you. I cannot live alone. Your voice calls to me, begging me to give in to you. I willingly comply. It is overdue- you need me. I am yours forever. I want to surrender for good.
Okay so i have to give most credit to my wonderful Jinx. you write like this and it turns out beautifully, so i thought I might as well give it a try. and it does have some of a 'Whispers' feel. I just really liked the way the words hit me and what they evoked on their own. :)
Okay so i have to give most credit to my wonderful Jinx. you write like this and it turns out beautifully, so i thought I might as well give it a try. and it does have some of a 'Whispers' feel. I just really liked the way the words hit me and what they evoked on their own. :)
Friday, June 3, 2011
more book! :)
I scowled across the water, watching the waves get closer to the black notebook by my side. Images kept surfacing in my mind’s eye- images I had hoped to have forgotten by now. Last night was particularly awful- twice Allie had to bring me back. Some nights I won’t wake up at all; not with light, sound, water, or force. Those nights I end up in the ER so they can wake me up before I injure myself or someone else. They used to think I was having seizures, but they aren’t. I’m just too far gone into the horrible fantasy of my own creation to come back on my own.
Nights like last night always give me headaches. It makes sitting in the sun almost unbearable, robbing me of my favorite activity. Today, though, the clouds had rolled over the sun so I found myself outside anyways, sitting in the shadows, feeling the cool breeze. It was a relief to feel chilled after spending so many hours, feverish and uncomfortable.
Allie had offered to come and sit with me, but I didn’t want her company today. I really didn’t want anyone’s company. Especially not my family’s. I feel so embarrassed around them after my rough nights, knowing I kept them up most of the night. It’s like I’m some freak of nature.
The water splashed my feet and I picked up my notebook. I had to move farther up the beach or I was going to get wet. Glancing up at the still cloudy sky, I realized I might get wet either way. Gray clouds built over the open water, rapidly growing in my direction.
Great. I thought to myself. Since I knew I was alone, I let myself grumble out loud, placing my fingers over my throat to feel the rumble in my vocal cords. Just what I wanted. A rain storm. Classic.
I stood up and shook my fist at the dark sky, not stopping to consider the futility of my actions. Grumbling again as I stomped across the sand to my family’s gazebo, rain drops started to pound on my shoulders and head. I shook my head this time. My mood was bad enough I didn’t care if I got soaked. I wasn’t going to quit my sarcastic saunter even if it started pouring.
My feet started sticking in the muddy sand, disturbing my swagger. I fought to keep a steady rhythm in my steps.
Darn you, you dirty, rotten, good for nothing rain. We have enough water here already, thank you very much. You’re re-ruining my already ruined day, soaking my notebook and making me muddy. Is there anything else you’d like to torture me with?
The self-satisfied smirk from my rant was wiped off my face as I felt the electricity in the air change. I had about two seconds until the lightening struck- and it was going to be close by judging by the smell. I was forced to stop progress to shelter and duck. Instinct took over attitude.
About a mile behind me I felt a strike that had to have hit something. I glanced behind me, wiping the rain out of my eyes to see more clearly the black mark on the hillside.
Fine. You win. I stood and started trotting towards the lattice shack. The thunder following the flash of light concussed the entire beach, making me stumble. I reached out to catch myself with my left hand; the hand holding my notebook. I dropped it and watched it quickly get sucked into the sand and dirt. An angry tear fell onto the cover as I gritted my teeth until they hurt.
Another electric charge filled the air as I peeled my soggy book out of the hole. Placing it securely under my arm, I took off towards my safe house.
I was within thirty feet as the sky lit up and a smell like battery acid filled the air. I crouched, ready to run as soon as the thunder passed over. It took close to fifteen seconds for the ground to quit moving.
As I ran the last rocky beach way to the gazebo, I saw a colorful umbrella emerge out the back door of my house. Once under cover, I watched the figure, trying to guess who it was.
Mom? No, it was moving too fast for her. It was too tall for Allie or Kyah, and way too tall for Kanye. It was too light colored to be Uncle Paul. Maybe it was Rayna or Kalen, even thought it looked like a boy from the length of its stride.
I turned my back as they started down the steps to the beach. I was determined not to care who it was or what they wanted. Reminding myself of my awful mood, I resolved not to talk to anyone and sat in a lounge chair with a frown.
A shiver chased itself down my spine and I looked for something-anything- to dry off myself and my book.
The damp, metal tip of an umbrella poked the back of my neck, forcing me to turn around and face my intruder.
It was Keni. Not at all who I was expecting.
“Looking for something?” He signed, stuttering with his hands. The only sign language he knew was what I had taught him years ago, and he had never paid very well attention.
He held a towel out to me and I took it.
“Thank you?” He signed, as a question.
I sneered. “Thanks.” I could see his amusement at my anger, which just made me more angry. I turned to give him a glare, but before I could he gestured to my book, wanting to talk to me. I gave it to him.
“Thanks.” He wrote. “It’s a lot easier to use this then to try and sign all the time.”
I nodded without a word, acknowledging him, but nothing more.
You’re angry, Lani. Remember?
“Talk to me, Lani, please.” Once again I got poked to let me know that he wanted a response from me.
“I’m in a bad mood.” I sighed as I gave him the book, just so he would know how unhappy I truly was.
“I know. I talked to Allie and Paul inside. They told me about last night.”
“Lovely.” Allie was going to get a talking to later for having such a big mouth.
“No. Not lovely.” He purposely ignored my sarcasm. “I’m sorry.” His backpack sat next to him, but I had been so focused on being angry I hadn’t noticed it before.
“It’s fine.” During my short response, he lifted the bag on to his lap. He set my book on the table in between us and started pulling things out of his backpack.
I looked out to the ocean, boiling with heavy raindrops. I had to feign disgust and boredom around Keni, so I buried my curiosity and stared into the blue-gray distance.
This time I got flicked in the ear rather then poked. I turned my head, my brow furrowed and my tongue sticking out. He laughed and pointed to the table.
He had placed some things on top of the notebooks and labeled them.
“Tylenol. From Paul.” A bottle sat on the corner. My uncle knew my head would be sore. “Water, also from Paul, to be used in the taking of Tylenol.” A water bottle. “A beautiful picture from the lovely Kyah.” A folded piece of paper I knew had one of my thirteen year old sister’s amazing watercolors on it. “The towel you’re wearing and the umbrella are from your mom, just like these chocolate cookies. (I already ate one. They’re delicious.) And finally, this is from me.” I glanced up at him pointing to the blank spot the last arrow pointed to.
He grinned sheepishly and dug a beautiful new notebook out of his backpack. All the stuff on my old book was shoved onto the table as Keni grabbed it to use.
“I had been keeping this at your house for your mom to give you on your birthday since I’ll be gone. After I saw you fall and drop your black one, I figured you might this need one sooner rather then later. There’s instructions on the first page.” His handwriting shrank as the page filled up and he flipped it over. “You have to do that now I’ve decided.” Keni handed me both notebooks.
I scanned the pages he had written to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.
“You saw me fall, too? Ever more lovely.” I handed him the black book back so he could respond while I read the instructions on the other book.
“Hey Lani! Happy Birthday! You’re seventeen now- catching up to me. I have one thing to ask before you fill up all the pages in this book. Write me a word picture for Amala, would you? She loves what you write, and she doesn’t get out much anymore. She helped me pick this out for you, and she made me promise I would ask you. Anyway, I hope 17 is great! Keni.”
A smile inched across my face. Of course. I’d do anything for Amala, Keni’s little sister and Kyah’s best friend. She had been adopted from Egypt as a baby with multiple spine and leg problems, and her surgeries left her paralyzed from the waist down and very fragile. She loved the beach, but couldn’t get out nearly as much as she would have liked.
I looked over to see that Keni had long since replied and was watching me with a smile. I grabbed the notebook and slapped his arm, surprising him and making him laugh.
“It was. Well?” He had answered.
“Not funny. And of course. Mal deserves it. Now, you said? And didn’t your mom ever teach you that it’s not polite to stare?”
He laughed as he read the reply. After a moment or two, he stood as he handed me the book back. I watched him walk our from under the gazebo roof and run towards my house, stopping only to turn and wave at me.
“Yeah, now.” He has written. “I’ll leave you to work. I have to get home now. Kyah is coming home with me to spend the night with Mal, so no hurry. I’ll get it tomorrow. And yeah, she did. But sometimes I just get distracted and forget. Sorry.” He had put a winking emoticon at the bottom.
My eyes widened and I blushed, grateful he had left.
Well. He has his nerve. I thought, using one of Grandma’s favorite phrases. I stared out onto the water for a good long time, thinking.
Yet another flash of lightening brought me back to reality. I shook my head, clearing my mind. I had work to do.
I gently pried open my new book, reading again the note in familiar handwriting. An eerie stillness crept through the open walls and I looked up, shivering under my towel.
The rain had stopped, just as suddenly as it had began. That was what living in Hawaii was like- fast changes. A rainbow reflected off the still, gently rolling water. It was perfect time to start my picture for Mal. I turned to the next page, took a deep breath and set my pen on the page.
Nights like last night always give me headaches. It makes sitting in the sun almost unbearable, robbing me of my favorite activity. Today, though, the clouds had rolled over the sun so I found myself outside anyways, sitting in the shadows, feeling the cool breeze. It was a relief to feel chilled after spending so many hours, feverish and uncomfortable.
Allie had offered to come and sit with me, but I didn’t want her company today. I really didn’t want anyone’s company. Especially not my family’s. I feel so embarrassed around them after my rough nights, knowing I kept them up most of the night. It’s like I’m some freak of nature.
The water splashed my feet and I picked up my notebook. I had to move farther up the beach or I was going to get wet. Glancing up at the still cloudy sky, I realized I might get wet either way. Gray clouds built over the open water, rapidly growing in my direction.
Great. I thought to myself. Since I knew I was alone, I let myself grumble out loud, placing my fingers over my throat to feel the rumble in my vocal cords. Just what I wanted. A rain storm. Classic.
I stood up and shook my fist at the dark sky, not stopping to consider the futility of my actions. Grumbling again as I stomped across the sand to my family’s gazebo, rain drops started to pound on my shoulders and head. I shook my head this time. My mood was bad enough I didn’t care if I got soaked. I wasn’t going to quit my sarcastic saunter even if it started pouring.
My feet started sticking in the muddy sand, disturbing my swagger. I fought to keep a steady rhythm in my steps.
Darn you, you dirty, rotten, good for nothing rain. We have enough water here already, thank you very much. You’re re-ruining my already ruined day, soaking my notebook and making me muddy. Is there anything else you’d like to torture me with?
The self-satisfied smirk from my rant was wiped off my face as I felt the electricity in the air change. I had about two seconds until the lightening struck- and it was going to be close by judging by the smell. I was forced to stop progress to shelter and duck. Instinct took over attitude.
About a mile behind me I felt a strike that had to have hit something. I glanced behind me, wiping the rain out of my eyes to see more clearly the black mark on the hillside.
Fine. You win. I stood and started trotting towards the lattice shack. The thunder following the flash of light concussed the entire beach, making me stumble. I reached out to catch myself with my left hand; the hand holding my notebook. I dropped it and watched it quickly get sucked into the sand and dirt. An angry tear fell onto the cover as I gritted my teeth until they hurt.
Another electric charge filled the air as I peeled my soggy book out of the hole. Placing it securely under my arm, I took off towards my safe house.
I was within thirty feet as the sky lit up and a smell like battery acid filled the air. I crouched, ready to run as soon as the thunder passed over. It took close to fifteen seconds for the ground to quit moving.
As I ran the last rocky beach way to the gazebo, I saw a colorful umbrella emerge out the back door of my house. Once under cover, I watched the figure, trying to guess who it was.
Mom? No, it was moving too fast for her. It was too tall for Allie or Kyah, and way too tall for Kanye. It was too light colored to be Uncle Paul. Maybe it was Rayna or Kalen, even thought it looked like a boy from the length of its stride.
I turned my back as they started down the steps to the beach. I was determined not to care who it was or what they wanted. Reminding myself of my awful mood, I resolved not to talk to anyone and sat in a lounge chair with a frown.
A shiver chased itself down my spine and I looked for something-anything- to dry off myself and my book.
The damp, metal tip of an umbrella poked the back of my neck, forcing me to turn around and face my intruder.
It was Keni. Not at all who I was expecting.
“Looking for something?” He signed, stuttering with his hands. The only sign language he knew was what I had taught him years ago, and he had never paid very well attention.
He held a towel out to me and I took it.
“Thank you?” He signed, as a question.
I sneered. “Thanks.” I could see his amusement at my anger, which just made me more angry. I turned to give him a glare, but before I could he gestured to my book, wanting to talk to me. I gave it to him.
“Thanks.” He wrote. “It’s a lot easier to use this then to try and sign all the time.”
I nodded without a word, acknowledging him, but nothing more.
You’re angry, Lani. Remember?
“Talk to me, Lani, please.” Once again I got poked to let me know that he wanted a response from me.
“I’m in a bad mood.” I sighed as I gave him the book, just so he would know how unhappy I truly was.
“I know. I talked to Allie and Paul inside. They told me about last night.”
“Lovely.” Allie was going to get a talking to later for having such a big mouth.
“No. Not lovely.” He purposely ignored my sarcasm. “I’m sorry.” His backpack sat next to him, but I had been so focused on being angry I hadn’t noticed it before.
“It’s fine.” During my short response, he lifted the bag on to his lap. He set my book on the table in between us and started pulling things out of his backpack.
I looked out to the ocean, boiling with heavy raindrops. I had to feign disgust and boredom around Keni, so I buried my curiosity and stared into the blue-gray distance.
This time I got flicked in the ear rather then poked. I turned my head, my brow furrowed and my tongue sticking out. He laughed and pointed to the table.
He had placed some things on top of the notebooks and labeled them.
“Tylenol. From Paul.” A bottle sat on the corner. My uncle knew my head would be sore. “Water, also from Paul, to be used in the taking of Tylenol.” A water bottle. “A beautiful picture from the lovely Kyah.” A folded piece of paper I knew had one of my thirteen year old sister’s amazing watercolors on it. “The towel you’re wearing and the umbrella are from your mom, just like these chocolate cookies. (I already ate one. They’re delicious.) And finally, this is from me.” I glanced up at him pointing to the blank spot the last arrow pointed to.
He grinned sheepishly and dug a beautiful new notebook out of his backpack. All the stuff on my old book was shoved onto the table as Keni grabbed it to use.
“I had been keeping this at your house for your mom to give you on your birthday since I’ll be gone. After I saw you fall and drop your black one, I figured you might this need one sooner rather then later. There’s instructions on the first page.” His handwriting shrank as the page filled up and he flipped it over. “You have to do that now I’ve decided.” Keni handed me both notebooks.
I scanned the pages he had written to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.
“You saw me fall, too? Ever more lovely.” I handed him the black book back so he could respond while I read the instructions on the other book.
“Hey Lani! Happy Birthday! You’re seventeen now- catching up to me. I have one thing to ask before you fill up all the pages in this book. Write me a word picture for Amala, would you? She loves what you write, and she doesn’t get out much anymore. She helped me pick this out for you, and she made me promise I would ask you. Anyway, I hope 17 is great! Keni.”
A smile inched across my face. Of course. I’d do anything for Amala, Keni’s little sister and Kyah’s best friend. She had been adopted from Egypt as a baby with multiple spine and leg problems, and her surgeries left her paralyzed from the waist down and very fragile. She loved the beach, but couldn’t get out nearly as much as she would have liked.
I looked over to see that Keni had long since replied and was watching me with a smile. I grabbed the notebook and slapped his arm, surprising him and making him laugh.
“It was. Well?” He had answered.
“Not funny. And of course. Mal deserves it. Now, you said? And didn’t your mom ever teach you that it’s not polite to stare?”
He laughed as he read the reply. After a moment or two, he stood as he handed me the book back. I watched him walk our from under the gazebo roof and run towards my house, stopping only to turn and wave at me.
“Yeah, now.” He has written. “I’ll leave you to work. I have to get home now. Kyah is coming home with me to spend the night with Mal, so no hurry. I’ll get it tomorrow. And yeah, she did. But sometimes I just get distracted and forget. Sorry.” He had put a winking emoticon at the bottom.
My eyes widened and I blushed, grateful he had left.
Well. He has his nerve. I thought, using one of Grandma’s favorite phrases. I stared out onto the water for a good long time, thinking.
Yet another flash of lightening brought me back to reality. I shook my head, clearing my mind. I had work to do.
I gently pried open my new book, reading again the note in familiar handwriting. An eerie stillness crept through the open walls and I looked up, shivering under my towel.
The rain had stopped, just as suddenly as it had began. That was what living in Hawaii was like- fast changes. A rainbow reflected off the still, gently rolling water. It was perfect time to start my picture for Mal. I turned to the next page, took a deep breath and set my pen on the page.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Todays advice from me to you.
I am proud to announce that yesterday, I completed the top goal I set out to accomplish. Now, I might have accomplished it to a slighter lower degree then I had hoped, but finished nonetheless. I was proud. oh. that goal?
Live through the day. It's today's goal too. Just take it one second at a time, don't think too hard and focus on what I need to do to finish strong. Which is my advice. It's not a sin to have a bad day. sometimes these things happen and we can't help it. Anger isn't a problem, like Jesus said. sinning in your anger, now that's another story all together. but sometimes we just. get. angry. and there's nothing wrong with that. bad days happen. A lot if you're me and slightly overdramatic. just take a breath at a time. there's nothing we can't accomplish when we put our minds to it. honestly.
Live through the day. It's today's goal too. Just take it one second at a time, don't think too hard and focus on what I need to do to finish strong. Which is my advice. It's not a sin to have a bad day. sometimes these things happen and we can't help it. Anger isn't a problem, like Jesus said. sinning in your anger, now that's another story all together. but sometimes we just. get. angry. and there's nothing wrong with that. bad days happen. A lot if you're me and slightly overdramatic. just take a breath at a time. there's nothing we can't accomplish when we put our minds to it. honestly.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Broken silence
Silence is all I know. IT defines me, is me. I have never known anything but; nor will I ever. I am never brave enough to admit what has been so obviously true my entire life. People know the moment they see me exactly what is wrong. But I remain unable to say.
Especially in front of Keni. It’s not like I can hide it. HE has had to adapt his entire life to be my friend. If he even is a friend. He is caring, yes, but we can never be friends again. Not like we used to be.
My family knows how difficult I find it to be. They understand. They have to. They really have no choice. I have been labeled as a ‘special needs’ girl; and that’s a title my whole family has to deal with.
No one else understands why it is so hard for me. To me, it makes perfect sense. I don’t want their sympathy. I’ve never known anything but the life I live; I don’t feel sorry for myself. And in no way do I want them to consider me anything but an equal- ever. Because I am. And no disability will change that. I promise you.
There are two defining daily events in my life. One for each half of me, the first gradually shifting into the other, creating a personality possessed by me alone. One event I will never tire of, The other is something I would love to never again experience. One is why I consider myself undeservedly blessed, the other the appropriate curse.
In the late mornings, when the breezes slow down and the sun seems to fade for a moment, I make my way to the most beacutiful place in the world. My castle, my peaceful alcove. There I can sit and let my imagination run wild, creating word pictures I use to fill in the blank spaces my heart craves. I could sit there on the tiny beach for hours, content to do nothing,
The best days, though, are when I’m not alone. Allie or Kyah will join me some days and we’ll sit and laugh until we cannot any longer. Every once in a while Mama or Keni will join me, and rarely Uncle Paul will stop by. Those are my favorite days. Uncle Paul is my best friend- the big brother I never had. He knows me better then anyone else. He listens- truly listens- to the thoughts I cannot put into words not vocalize.
Uncle Paul is a poet. The word pictures he creates for me are unlike any I could ever write for myself. No one else makes me laugh as hard. No one else has seen me cry the way he has. But truly, Uncle Paul is the one who understands my curse in a way no one else does.
Sometime between midnight and five in the morning, everything logical in me is clouded. Then is the only time my silence is broken- even if it is only internally. Mama is afraid of me then, and the kids stare. I don’t like it either, in fact I hate it worse then they do.
I dream. And it isn’t normal dreams either. Strange things happen- people talk. If that’s what talking is, I never want to know it. The horrible noise, so loud and overbearing and evil. I have tried everything to end these dreams, but nothing has worked. The only way to stop them is to not sleep; and that only works for so many days. Then the nightmares turn in to day mares.
When the dreams get too bad, I’ll think I cannot go on like this. I don’t feel human, let alone normal, the person I want to be. But then Uncle Paul will talk to me, and I’ll go cry for a while. There’s something therapeudic about crying in the sunshine. My silence will return and my world will rebalance.
If I can’t think of any reasons to smile, Uncle Paul will make me some. He’ll tell me funny stories about Grandma or Papa, or stories about himself as a kid. He was adopted from Ethiopia by Grandma and Papa seventeen years ago, when he was six. He has stories from all over the world to distract me. And now, since he’s been living with us, he can laugh about being the only African- American in the whole state of Hawaii.
I’m still afraid, though. No amount of Uncle Paul, sunshine, smiles or time will ever fix the fact that I’m weak. I can try my hardest not to be, but I am and always will be. The truth is hard. If I let it, it will preface everything I’ll ever do, I’ll ever say, and everything I’ll ever be.
The notebook I carry is proof enough. A screaming reminder that I’ll never be good enough. Allie has to come nearly everywhere with me. Maybe I should just wear a sign around my neck so no one stares when I start writing instead of speaking. So maybe they’ll treat me the way I want. A sign that could read ‘Hi. I’m Kailani Love Akana and yeah, I do realize that I’m different. I know I’m deaf.’
Okay so lemme know what you guess think. this is a prologue to a new story/book ish thing. lemme know what you think. :)
Especially in front of Keni. It’s not like I can hide it. HE has had to adapt his entire life to be my friend. If he even is a friend. He is caring, yes, but we can never be friends again. Not like we used to be.
My family knows how difficult I find it to be. They understand. They have to. They really have no choice. I have been labeled as a ‘special needs’ girl; and that’s a title my whole family has to deal with.
No one else understands why it is so hard for me. To me, it makes perfect sense. I don’t want their sympathy. I’ve never known anything but the life I live; I don’t feel sorry for myself. And in no way do I want them to consider me anything but an equal- ever. Because I am. And no disability will change that. I promise you.
There are two defining daily events in my life. One for each half of me, the first gradually shifting into the other, creating a personality possessed by me alone. One event I will never tire of, The other is something I would love to never again experience. One is why I consider myself undeservedly blessed, the other the appropriate curse.
In the late mornings, when the breezes slow down and the sun seems to fade for a moment, I make my way to the most beacutiful place in the world. My castle, my peaceful alcove. There I can sit and let my imagination run wild, creating word pictures I use to fill in the blank spaces my heart craves. I could sit there on the tiny beach for hours, content to do nothing,
The best days, though, are when I’m not alone. Allie or Kyah will join me some days and we’ll sit and laugh until we cannot any longer. Every once in a while Mama or Keni will join me, and rarely Uncle Paul will stop by. Those are my favorite days. Uncle Paul is my best friend- the big brother I never had. He knows me better then anyone else. He listens- truly listens- to the thoughts I cannot put into words not vocalize.
Uncle Paul is a poet. The word pictures he creates for me are unlike any I could ever write for myself. No one else makes me laugh as hard. No one else has seen me cry the way he has. But truly, Uncle Paul is the one who understands my curse in a way no one else does.
Sometime between midnight and five in the morning, everything logical in me is clouded. Then is the only time my silence is broken- even if it is only internally. Mama is afraid of me then, and the kids stare. I don’t like it either, in fact I hate it worse then they do.
I dream. And it isn’t normal dreams either. Strange things happen- people talk. If that’s what talking is, I never want to know it. The horrible noise, so loud and overbearing and evil. I have tried everything to end these dreams, but nothing has worked. The only way to stop them is to not sleep; and that only works for so many days. Then the nightmares turn in to day mares.
When the dreams get too bad, I’ll think I cannot go on like this. I don’t feel human, let alone normal, the person I want to be. But then Uncle Paul will talk to me, and I’ll go cry for a while. There’s something therapeudic about crying in the sunshine. My silence will return and my world will rebalance.
If I can’t think of any reasons to smile, Uncle Paul will make me some. He’ll tell me funny stories about Grandma or Papa, or stories about himself as a kid. He was adopted from Ethiopia by Grandma and Papa seventeen years ago, when he was six. He has stories from all over the world to distract me. And now, since he’s been living with us, he can laugh about being the only African- American in the whole state of Hawaii.
I’m still afraid, though. No amount of Uncle Paul, sunshine, smiles or time will ever fix the fact that I’m weak. I can try my hardest not to be, but I am and always will be. The truth is hard. If I let it, it will preface everything I’ll ever do, I’ll ever say, and everything I’ll ever be.
The notebook I carry is proof enough. A screaming reminder that I’ll never be good enough. Allie has to come nearly everywhere with me. Maybe I should just wear a sign around my neck so no one stares when I start writing instead of speaking. So maybe they’ll treat me the way I want. A sign that could read ‘Hi. I’m Kailani Love Akana and yeah, I do realize that I’m different. I know I’m deaf.’
Okay so lemme know what you guess think. this is a prologue to a new story/book ish thing. lemme know what you think. :)
Monday, May 23, 2011
A rant because I have writers block and this is all i can write today.
I'm suffering from writers block something fierce and it is HURTING ME! so today i have a rant to post that i could sum up in about 10 words. Just because i'm not like you doesn't mean i'm wrong. There. I have decided that this might just be the thing that offends me most. It hurts too!
some people (myself included) are fairly outspoken. and willing to say what needs to be said. but there's a time and a place for that.... and there's a time and a place to keep your mouth SHUT. like when it comes to outward expressions of a simple opinion. 'Oh i like so-and-so's music.' 'WHAT? YOU LIKE THEM? HOW CAN YOU? THATS SO WRONG THERE'S NOTHING COOL ABOUT THEM I HATE YOU NOW LOL JK.' People claim to be kidding when they say stuff like that but it seriously doesn't matter. you got your point out loud and clear thank you very much, even around the "joking." its really obvious that you're putting yourself above someone else by pointing out how wrong they were to have opinion like the one the do and how incorrect they were. Just because i happen to have an opinion that i do doesn't mean you need to tell me how wrong that is. sometimes it is better to keep your opinion to yourself and let other people have opinions of their own. The best argument doesn't bash the opponents view, rather it points out what it better about their own view. as soon as you resort to bashing other people and their opinions, you lose both credibility and respect, which might just be important some day. or later in said argument. The attribute of love that Jesus Christ displayed towards the most varied groups of people was the fact that he genuinely listened, even to people like the Pharisees that he absolutely disagreed with and were absolutely wrong. He knew that, but still he listened.
End of story.
To Infinity and Beyond.
some people (myself included) are fairly outspoken. and willing to say what needs to be said. but there's a time and a place for that.... and there's a time and a place to keep your mouth SHUT. like when it comes to outward expressions of a simple opinion. 'Oh i like so-and-so's music.' 'WHAT? YOU LIKE THEM? HOW CAN YOU? THATS SO WRONG THERE'S NOTHING COOL ABOUT THEM I HATE YOU NOW LOL JK.' People claim to be kidding when they say stuff like that but it seriously doesn't matter. you got your point out loud and clear thank you very much, even around the "joking." its really obvious that you're putting yourself above someone else by pointing out how wrong they were to have opinion like the one the do and how incorrect they were. Just because i happen to have an opinion that i do doesn't mean you need to tell me how wrong that is. sometimes it is better to keep your opinion to yourself and let other people have opinions of their own. The best argument doesn't bash the opponents view, rather it points out what it better about their own view. as soon as you resort to bashing other people and their opinions, you lose both credibility and respect, which might just be important some day. or later in said argument. The attribute of love that Jesus Christ displayed towards the most varied groups of people was the fact that he genuinely listened, even to people like the Pharisees that he absolutely disagreed with and were absolutely wrong. He knew that, but still he listened.
End of story.
To Infinity and Beyond.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Rainy Day :)
TO INFINITY AND BEYOND.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
LOVE?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLQduUi1tW4This song has really been working on my heart lately. Listen to it if you get a chance.
I'm strong enough
I've always told myself
I never wanna need somebody else
But I've already fallen from that hill
So I'm dropping my guard,
Here's your chance at my heard and
Oh, no
My walls are gonna break
So close
It's more than I can take
I'm so tired of turning and running away
When love just isn't safe
I really have always thought I had it all together. I didn't think i needed anyone to love me, and even though i wouldn't have admitted it I didn't think I needed God to love me. Sure, I loved him and knew i needed him to save me, but i thought i could get along without his love. He wrestled with my heart for months over this. ever since i was self aware, basically. I got my love from my parents, friends, other people.. but not him. and i knew eventually he was going to have to teach me the hard way. and he did.
The only way you understand that you need love is if somehow it gets taken from you. If sometime you can't find it in someone else. I had to be broken of my habit to look for love in other people so i could find his love. He had once chance at my heart, one time when i was broken enough i let him rule me. I had thought my life had fallen apart, and basically it had. because i hadn't built it or planned it the way he wanted to. And that's how he finally found me. i was a mess. it was awful. but now i know. His love has to sustain me. It has to be my reason to breathe. because everyone else is never going to give the love i need. he's waiting for all of us to be un distracted, completely and utterly focused on him. not him, and your boyfriend, or your best friend, or your family, or your favorite sport, or a movie star... just you. and only you. And sometimes he's going to have to break you to build you up his way.
Pray. :)
To Infinity and Beyond.
I'm strong enough
I've always told myself
I never wanna need somebody else
But I've already fallen from that hill
So I'm dropping my guard,
Here's your chance at my heard and
Oh, no
My walls are gonna break
So close
It's more than I can take
I'm so tired of turning and running away
When love just isn't safe
I really have always thought I had it all together. I didn't think i needed anyone to love me, and even though i wouldn't have admitted it I didn't think I needed God to love me. Sure, I loved him and knew i needed him to save me, but i thought i could get along without his love. He wrestled with my heart for months over this. ever since i was self aware, basically. I got my love from my parents, friends, other people.. but not him. and i knew eventually he was going to have to teach me the hard way. and he did.
The only way you understand that you need love is if somehow it gets taken from you. If sometime you can't find it in someone else. I had to be broken of my habit to look for love in other people so i could find his love. He had once chance at my heart, one time when i was broken enough i let him rule me. I had thought my life had fallen apart, and basically it had. because i hadn't built it or planned it the way he wanted to. And that's how he finally found me. i was a mess. it was awful. but now i know. His love has to sustain me. It has to be my reason to breathe. because everyone else is never going to give the love i need. he's waiting for all of us to be un distracted, completely and utterly focused on him. not him, and your boyfriend, or your best friend, or your family, or your favorite sport, or a movie star... just you. and only you. And sometimes he's going to have to break you to build you up his way.
Pray. :)
To Infinity and Beyond.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Foxes
Thursday, April 28, 2011
GO READ EPHESIANS 4.
Do you ever feel stalked by the things you did in the past? i do. There are some things I cant. get. away. from. and usually they're the things i regret most. which is simply lovely. ha. and every time i think of or see something that i did in the past that i regret, I always think the myself. Good grief KateLyn. never do THAT again. in fact, how bout you never do ANYTHING again. not like that'll ever happen. but i think i should start. with the whole not doing anything thing. because it seems like every thing i do ends up taking a turn for the worse. because (lets face the fact, folks) most things i do, i do for my vain ambition. Every good deed can become something horrible when we do it for the wrong reason. when our end goal isn't what it should be. I think this is why it's in the Bible. I never got this verse before, and now i do.
Isaiah 64:6a. "All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all of our righteous acts are like filthy rags." This isn't an excuse to never try to do anything righteous, this is a truth. God can't credit us with the self control to do righteous acts for righteous reasons. because we don't have it! we don't have the sense of real love necessary to put others ahead of ourselves. so, therefore, our 'good' deeds end up being useless, because we're doing them just because they're good deeds and Jesus said so. Not because it's in our hearts to please Him and love Him. (Psalms 139:1 O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.) He knows better.
Here's my advice. go read Ephesians 4:17- 5:21. (that was my cue to post a link but it was too long. now you have to go to allllllll the trouble of looking for it yourself. sad. do it anyway, cuz its really worth reading.)
Yes in fact right now I feel completely and utterly stalked by a poor decision made in my past. and regrets aren't a thing to mess around with. they hurt. I can honestly say having your heart broken doesn't feel like it's ever going to heal. EVER. maybe that's just me though. I just warn you to be careful, because there's such a better way. Now, WE can't change ourselves do righteous things and be righteous people, but I know someone who can. Just keep fighting for it. praying. reading. listening.
To Infinity and Beyond!
Isaiah 64:6a. "All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all of our righteous acts are like filthy rags." This isn't an excuse to never try to do anything righteous, this is a truth. God can't credit us with the self control to do righteous acts for righteous reasons. because we don't have it! we don't have the sense of real love necessary to put others ahead of ourselves. so, therefore, our 'good' deeds end up being useless, because we're doing them just because they're good deeds and Jesus said so. Not because it's in our hearts to please Him and love Him. (Psalms 139:1 O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.) He knows better.
Here's my advice. go read Ephesians 4:17- 5:21. (that was my cue to post a link but it was too long. now you have to go to allllllll the trouble of looking for it yourself. sad. do it anyway, cuz its really worth reading.)
Yes in fact right now I feel completely and utterly stalked by a poor decision made in my past. and regrets aren't a thing to mess around with. they hurt. I can honestly say having your heart broken doesn't feel like it's ever going to heal. EVER. maybe that's just me though. I just warn you to be careful, because there's such a better way. Now, WE can't change ourselves do righteous things and be righteous people, but I know someone who can. Just keep fighting for it. praying. reading. listening.
To Infinity and Beyond!
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Today :)
Today is Easter! He is Risen! Today is the day we're always reminded of the whys of Jesus' death- and for good reason. It's the most important fact in all of history. Without it we are the most hopeless of all people; people to be most pitied. living our lives, chasing a fairy tale? That's why the whys are so important. we need to be assured of our faith, of his death, and most importantly of his life. we have to know by hear why it matters, why we have to be willing to live and die, walk and talk, breathe and know, really KNOW, what it is we live for. That's what most people focus on. Because its the perfect picture of love. and we all need a little of that.
I watched the Passion of the Christ all the way through for the first time last night. Which is why i'm going to look at the how.
When we hear the word 'killed,' what do you think of? Most normal people would think of guns, I suppose. shot and killed, just like that. a matter of seconds from living and breathing to not. Or maybe you're a history buff like me. and i automatically think hung. Maybe a little bit longer of a death. but still. in just a short time, they're gone. Over. being murdered seems like a pretty quick thing, right? especially when it's said like that- as a murder. firing squads, guillotines, lethal injection.
Jesus Christ could not be killed that quickly. His captors spent OVER 12 HOURS doing just that- murdering him. it wasn't a matter of seconds, minutes, or even an hour. 12 HOURS. torture. pain. suffering. death. And it wasn't just the Romans and religious leaders punishing him. His own father turned his back on him. his father, his own self in essence. He became sin so we didn't have to. He suffered one of the most brutal deaths known to mankind; for you. Can you imagine? living a life just to die like that? the agony he must have felt in the 33 years before his death! he knew what was coming- his entire life. He lived with that on his heart. No small wonder he sweat blood the night of his arrest. Could you do it? would you? I don't think i could.
Since i just watched the Passion, it's been weighing on my mind a lot. And I know that story might not be historically perfect, but I think God used its closeness to the real events to change a lot of hearts- including my own. And in it, Jesus cries once during his entire death process. of course, he cries out many times during it, but only once does he break down and cry. and he didnt cry for himself. He was crying for his captors; the people who didn't know what they were doing. He cried for us, not himself.
It took me till I watched this movie to realize a mistake i had been making when picturing the Resurrected Savior. It always said he had scars on his hands, so i would think of scars. like when you fall and it leaves a red raised mark. scars like that. But Jesus didn't just have marks on his hard. Think about it. the nails went THROUGH his hands. they weren't just scars, he had holes all the way through his hands and feet. that you could see daylight through. quarter-sized pieces, missing from his body. not scars.
and the title of the movie. the PASSION of the Christ. He let himself suffer that because he was PASSIONATE about saving you. that's what drove his live. Why he lived the way he did. he loved you that much.
28 Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” 29 A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. 30 When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
11 Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb 12 and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.
13 They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”
“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” 14 At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.
15 He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”
Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”
16 Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!”
love
katie
I watched the Passion of the Christ all the way through for the first time last night. Which is why i'm going to look at the how.
When we hear the word 'killed,' what do you think of? Most normal people would think of guns, I suppose. shot and killed, just like that. a matter of seconds from living and breathing to not. Or maybe you're a history buff like me. and i automatically think hung. Maybe a little bit longer of a death. but still. in just a short time, they're gone. Over. being murdered seems like a pretty quick thing, right? especially when it's said like that- as a murder. firing squads, guillotines, lethal injection.
Jesus Christ could not be killed that quickly. His captors spent OVER 12 HOURS doing just that- murdering him. it wasn't a matter of seconds, minutes, or even an hour. 12 HOURS. torture. pain. suffering. death. And it wasn't just the Romans and religious leaders punishing him. His own father turned his back on him. his father, his own self in essence. He became sin so we didn't have to. He suffered one of the most brutal deaths known to mankind; for you. Can you imagine? living a life just to die like that? the agony he must have felt in the 33 years before his death! he knew what was coming- his entire life. He lived with that on his heart. No small wonder he sweat blood the night of his arrest. Could you do it? would you? I don't think i could.
Since i just watched the Passion, it's been weighing on my mind a lot. And I know that story might not be historically perfect, but I think God used its closeness to the real events to change a lot of hearts- including my own. And in it, Jesus cries once during his entire death process. of course, he cries out many times during it, but only once does he break down and cry. and he didnt cry for himself. He was crying for his captors; the people who didn't know what they were doing. He cried for us, not himself.
It took me till I watched this movie to realize a mistake i had been making when picturing the Resurrected Savior. It always said he had scars on his hands, so i would think of scars. like when you fall and it leaves a red raised mark. scars like that. But Jesus didn't just have marks on his hard. Think about it. the nails went THROUGH his hands. they weren't just scars, he had holes all the way through his hands and feet. that you could see daylight through. quarter-sized pieces, missing from his body. not scars.
and the title of the movie. the PASSION of the Christ. He let himself suffer that because he was PASSIONATE about saving you. that's what drove his live. Why he lived the way he did. he loved you that much.
28 Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” 29 A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. 30 When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
11 Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb 12 and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.
13 They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”
“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” 14 At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.
15 He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”
Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”
16 Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!”
love
katie
Monday, April 18, 2011
Invisible
Grey and green. Everything in my neighborhood is either grey or green. Grey smoke, grey buildings, grey roads. An old green train, green graffiti, and just a little bit of green grass. Even the run down old grey basketball court has green hoops.
I make sure to stay in my certain place in town- I have about a mile square. It’s the only way I know I’ll stay safe, if I stay where I belong. And really, there’s no where else I need to go. I have everything I need right in here.
To the west is an old gas station and a supermarket. They’re both run by Big Al, who’s boy runs the old car place across the street. All three of those places are pretty run down, but I like goin’ over there anyways. They let you have a tab just in case you run out of money some week. Al and Omar are both real nice, and sometimes Al even saves some of his fruit shipments for me.
They both live in a little green shack behind the car lot. They’ve only got a few neighbors back there, like Old Lizzie. She’s got like a million cats. Her niece or someone lives next door, but she doesn’t have any cats. She has a husband and a couple of kids.
Across the other street from the car lot is a nice big grassy field. It would’ve been perfect for football if they hadn’t ruined it with a chain-link fence, right down the middle. Behind the fence is a school and a fancy playground. That’s the really little kids’ school, Somebody Malcolm Elementary school. The dumb chain-link fence is 8 feet high and had razors on the top, just so no one gets in at night.
Then, just to the far side of the school, there’s a little Laundromat. It has green neon signs, making it pretty easy to spot. The building next door to it used to be a restaurant, but it burned down a couple of months ago. No one has the money to get rid of it, so for now it’s just a big blackish- grey pile. It’s real scary at night.
There’s a trailer park right next to the Laundry House. It’s actually pretty clean and nice and all that, except for all the graffiti. It’s all cause of the gang TenEleven. They must either really like green or just happen to have a lot of extra green spray paint laying around.
And of course there has to be a high school. Our high schools are put together- the little kids and us older kids. We’re in the same building, our really huge building. It’s the Seattle River Jr. Sr. High School, which we always laugh at. Seattle is on the other side of America from us, and there aren’t any rivers anywhere near by. I guess the people who named the school weren’t really paying attention.
Out of no where, passed 14th street, is our downtown. We have two buildings that are pretty tall. Almost skyscrapers, maybe. There’s an abandoned hotel with a parking garage under it and this old apartment building. Those two buildings couldn’t be more opposite. The hotel is long abandoned and really old, but TenEleven lives in there. It’s the oldest building in the whole town, but they actually keep it looking decent. The apartment building is some sort of special people housing, and it looks terrible. It’s a mess. Totally trashed. Families that are too poor to have houses or something live in there, but it’s the worst. No one likes it.
The other border is all taken up by a giant factory. It’s got all these huge things and machines that are always smoking. I don’t think anyone knows what it does or why it’s there. It just is, and we stay away from it. It’s the only place the police actually come around to, so we don’t.
Finally, my favorite place is just west, inside my east boundary. It’s the old Baptist church. They have a little store in there, a drinking fountain and the most amazing couches. Some days I just go there after school and just sit and talk to Pastor Lewis for hours. He’s okay. He always listens. But mostly I just go for those couches.
As for me, my best friend and I live in a little shack under the hotel. It’s on the far side of the parking garage, and it used to be one of those places rich people left their cars for other people to go park them. No one knows it’s there, except for us.
One of the hotel’s big elevators collapsed into the basement, right into our house. That’s where I sleep now. Otherwise, we have a tiny bathroom and a tiny kitchen and a big other room. Dre has a corner of that big room blocked off to be his bedroom. He fixed up the inside, and I did the outside. I had to pile trash around our house and paint it grey and green, just so it would blend in. And I covered up all the funny glass windows to make it safer.
It isn’t much. But it’s home. My home.
Okay I know this isn't a story really, and this isnt even the one i was talking about. but i thought i'd share this anyway. just a little scribble i had fun with.
To infinity and beyond! v.i.r.
I make sure to stay in my certain place in town- I have about a mile square. It’s the only way I know I’ll stay safe, if I stay where I belong. And really, there’s no where else I need to go. I have everything I need right in here.
To the west is an old gas station and a supermarket. They’re both run by Big Al, who’s boy runs the old car place across the street. All three of those places are pretty run down, but I like goin’ over there anyways. They let you have a tab just in case you run out of money some week. Al and Omar are both real nice, and sometimes Al even saves some of his fruit shipments for me.
They both live in a little green shack behind the car lot. They’ve only got a few neighbors back there, like Old Lizzie. She’s got like a million cats. Her niece or someone lives next door, but she doesn’t have any cats. She has a husband and a couple of kids.
Across the other street from the car lot is a nice big grassy field. It would’ve been perfect for football if they hadn’t ruined it with a chain-link fence, right down the middle. Behind the fence is a school and a fancy playground. That’s the really little kids’ school, Somebody Malcolm Elementary school. The dumb chain-link fence is 8 feet high and had razors on the top, just so no one gets in at night.
Then, just to the far side of the school, there’s a little Laundromat. It has green neon signs, making it pretty easy to spot. The building next door to it used to be a restaurant, but it burned down a couple of months ago. No one has the money to get rid of it, so for now it’s just a big blackish- grey pile. It’s real scary at night.
There’s a trailer park right next to the Laundry House. It’s actually pretty clean and nice and all that, except for all the graffiti. It’s all cause of the gang TenEleven. They must either really like green or just happen to have a lot of extra green spray paint laying around.
And of course there has to be a high school. Our high schools are put together- the little kids and us older kids. We’re in the same building, our really huge building. It’s the Seattle River Jr. Sr. High School, which we always laugh at. Seattle is on the other side of America from us, and there aren’t any rivers anywhere near by. I guess the people who named the school weren’t really paying attention.
Out of no where, passed 14th street, is our downtown. We have two buildings that are pretty tall. Almost skyscrapers, maybe. There’s an abandoned hotel with a parking garage under it and this old apartment building. Those two buildings couldn’t be more opposite. The hotel is long abandoned and really old, but TenEleven lives in there. It’s the oldest building in the whole town, but they actually keep it looking decent. The apartment building is some sort of special people housing, and it looks terrible. It’s a mess. Totally trashed. Families that are too poor to have houses or something live in there, but it’s the worst. No one likes it.
The other border is all taken up by a giant factory. It’s got all these huge things and machines that are always smoking. I don’t think anyone knows what it does or why it’s there. It just is, and we stay away from it. It’s the only place the police actually come around to, so we don’t.
Finally, my favorite place is just west, inside my east boundary. It’s the old Baptist church. They have a little store in there, a drinking fountain and the most amazing couches. Some days I just go there after school and just sit and talk to Pastor Lewis for hours. He’s okay. He always listens. But mostly I just go for those couches.
As for me, my best friend and I live in a little shack under the hotel. It’s on the far side of the parking garage, and it used to be one of those places rich people left their cars for other people to go park them. No one knows it’s there, except for us.
One of the hotel’s big elevators collapsed into the basement, right into our house. That’s where I sleep now. Otherwise, we have a tiny bathroom and a tiny kitchen and a big other room. Dre has a corner of that big room blocked off to be his bedroom. He fixed up the inside, and I did the outside. I had to pile trash around our house and paint it grey and green, just so it would blend in. And I covered up all the funny glass windows to make it safer.
It isn’t much. But it’s home. My home.
Okay I know this isn't a story really, and this isnt even the one i was talking about. but i thought i'd share this anyway. just a little scribble i had fun with.
To infinity and beyond! v.i.r.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Matters of the heart
So I sort of promised myself i wouldn't do this whole... ramble on about personal stuff thing, but here i am anyways and my only prayer is you would learn something from my mindless scribbles. Well, maybe they aren't mindless per se, cause I've definitely put a lot of thought into this. It may just seem mindless to you. Hopefully all the rest of my posts will be a little more collected and nice :)
Maybe I should start with a list.
1. I just read this book called 'Heaven Is For Real' about this little boy who is in the hospital and meets Jesus. It's totally fascinating and has given me a lot to think about. http://heavenisforreal.com/heaven-is-for-real-book-excerpt/- you should read it.
2. Thanks to my big sister Sadie, I've been spending a lot of time on the Rebelution website, looking at the Modesty Survey page. GUYS! I really want you to read this and tell me if you agree with it. It means a lot to a girl (or maybe just me) to read that stuff on the internet, but it'll mean even more if i hear it coming from you. yeah, I know, it's a lot to ask. but I read that and immediately think.. well, they have answers all over the board. where would the guys I know fit into that? Not that that really changes anything; like they said over and over, its an issue of the heart. And it totally is. Read up. You HAVE to. http://www.therebelution.com/modestysurvey/browse
3. I have discovered that a. having amazing people to talk to, and b. texting a lot so you know how to condense what you need to say into 160 characters, really teaches you EXACTLY what your opinion is. I was texting and journaling at the same time and it turned out to be a pretty scary combination. Too much thinking time. But here's a (slightly condensed;)) version of what we came up with. Do you know why it hurts when your heart gets broken? really WHY? its because it's something you were never meant to feel. Girls, we're really emotional creatures. Scary, I know. But we give our hearts away and then when we get hurt, get cheated on, get tossed aside, get made fun of, we feel physical pain. And that's God saying 'There's a better way, kiddo! you were NEVER, EVER meant to feel like this! You were never meant to feel unwanted; because i really really want you.'
4. Just a suggestion girls. write letter to your future husband like every day. He'll keep you honest even if you don't know him yet. And if you find that just a little creepy, (you'll get used to it I promise..) give your journal a name. It's a weird thought, but it can totally keep you accountable. I do both. My husband is gonna have quite the stack of letters, and Romeo (yes my journal's name IS romeo..) is always there for me. I feel AWFUL telling him i failed at something. And guys, maybe write a letter to your future wife every once in a while. She'll totally appreciate the gesture... I would.
Well, I think that's all for now. I'm in the process of writing another story so that'll be up soon.
To infinity and beyond! <3
Maybe I should start with a list.
1. I just read this book called 'Heaven Is For Real' about this little boy who is in the hospital and meets Jesus. It's totally fascinating and has given me a lot to think about. http://heavenisforreal.com/heaven-is-for-real-book-excerpt/- you should read it.
2. Thanks to my big sister Sadie, I've been spending a lot of time on the Rebelution website, looking at the Modesty Survey page. GUYS! I really want you to read this and tell me if you agree with it. It means a lot to a girl (or maybe just me) to read that stuff on the internet, but it'll mean even more if i hear it coming from you. yeah, I know, it's a lot to ask. but I read that and immediately think.. well, they have answers all over the board. where would the guys I know fit into that? Not that that really changes anything; like they said over and over, its an issue of the heart. And it totally is. Read up. You HAVE to. http://www.therebelution.com/modestysurvey/browse
3. I have discovered that a. having amazing people to talk to, and b. texting a lot so you know how to condense what you need to say into 160 characters, really teaches you EXACTLY what your opinion is. I was texting and journaling at the same time and it turned out to be a pretty scary combination. Too much thinking time. But here's a (slightly condensed;)) version of what we came up with. Do you know why it hurts when your heart gets broken? really WHY? its because it's something you were never meant to feel. Girls, we're really emotional creatures. Scary, I know. But we give our hearts away and then when we get hurt, get cheated on, get tossed aside, get made fun of, we feel physical pain. And that's God saying 'There's a better way, kiddo! you were NEVER, EVER meant to feel like this! You were never meant to feel unwanted; because i really really want you.'
4. Just a suggestion girls. write letter to your future husband like every day. He'll keep you honest even if you don't know him yet. And if you find that just a little creepy, (you'll get used to it I promise..) give your journal a name. It's a weird thought, but it can totally keep you accountable. I do both. My husband is gonna have quite the stack of letters, and Romeo (yes my journal's name IS romeo..) is always there for me. I feel AWFUL telling him i failed at something. And guys, maybe write a letter to your future wife every once in a while. She'll totally appreciate the gesture... I would.
Well, I think that's all for now. I'm in the process of writing another story so that'll be up soon.
To infinity and beyond! <3
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
I Don't Regret lyrics
These are really old lyrics from a really old song from a band I haven't even listened to in a really really really long time. but for some reason they're just stuck in my head, and i thought I'd share.
They're telling me they're concerned for the way I am living
That I'll miss it all why would I think that God is that trusting
I can't explain all the words He has spoken to my heart
Why'd I want him more
I don't regret choosing you
And I'm not ashamed
That it's You who holds my heart
Why do we think if we trust God too much will fail us
Nothing has come when I chose its that in me I'd trust
Separate me You have called out to follow You blindly
I won't fear You're leading me
I don't regret choosing You
And I'm not ashamed
That it's You who holds my heart
You have shown my ever wondering heart what love is
What on earth is more important than to have all of you
I don't regret choosing you
And I'm not ashamed
That it's You who holds my heart
That's a pretty powerful thing to say.
They're telling me they're concerned for the way I am living
That I'll miss it all why would I think that God is that trusting
I can't explain all the words He has spoken to my heart
Why'd I want him more
I don't regret choosing you
And I'm not ashamed
That it's You who holds my heart
Why do we think if we trust God too much will fail us
Nothing has come when I chose its that in me I'd trust
Separate me You have called out to follow You blindly
I won't fear You're leading me
I don't regret choosing You
And I'm not ashamed
That it's You who holds my heart
You have shown my ever wondering heart what love is
What on earth is more important than to have all of you
I don't regret choosing you
And I'm not ashamed
That it's You who holds my heart
That's a pretty powerful thing to say.
Spring is hereeeeeeeeee :)
To Infinity and Beyond!
Monday, April 11, 2011
THE FIRST POST!
So... this is my new creative outlet i've decided to give a try. I've wanted to start a blog for a while, but I've never really put much thought into it. The more annoying notes I post on facebook sort of made me realize; i need a better, less invasive-into-other-peoples lives and walls thing. Which means I'm actually totally okay with no one ever reading this. Even though i'd like it if you would :). It just seems sort of useless to write and write and write.. but it's what i do. And i have a feeling it's what I'll always do. (I apologize to any OCD people reading this. I'm only capitalizing the word 'I' about 75% of the time. I text too much. what can i say.)
About the funny name. This has two meanings and the first one is more important even though i like the second one better. :) The phrase is a pretty popular one. And basically it means... If you're in a vulnerable place, don't say stupid things that might just make it worse. It's a lesson i'd do well to learn, but it's applicable in other ways too. I'm saying things here, in a relatively safe place, but that doesn't mean i wouldn't say 'em in real life too. To those of you who've known me more than like... 2 weeks, you all know i basically say what i feel. End of story. and I'm realizing as i get older (yes i know im just ancient.) that i have this complete obsession with, well, the truth. I can't stand it when i see other people lie, or when i lie myself, or when i even see people acting like someone they're not. Fake people make me crazy. absolutely insane.r. most likely because i used to be one of them. and now, this is me. screaming at them that it's not worth it. people are going to like for who you are or they aren't. and like my oh-so-wise brother says... "People like me. And if they don't, well, their loss." Anyway, for the second reason, my whole obsession with being honest makes me a pretty candid and a not very polished person. which is funny, cuz if i could describe my other obsession in two words it would be class and polish. I ADORE everything classy; big cities, lights, glass houses... hence the name. :)
Since I'm both a writer and a photographer I'll probably post both pictures and things i've written on here. and I love movies and music too, so i might add in some movie reviews and things. cuz if there is one thing i have enough to share of, it's opinion.
Ta Da! :)
About the funny name. This has two meanings and the first one is more important even though i like the second one better. :) The phrase is a pretty popular one. And basically it means... If you're in a vulnerable place, don't say stupid things that might just make it worse. It's a lesson i'd do well to learn, but it's applicable in other ways too. I'm saying things here, in a relatively safe place, but that doesn't mean i wouldn't say 'em in real life too. To those of you who've known me more than like... 2 weeks, you all know i basically say what i feel. End of story. and I'm realizing as i get older (yes i know im just ancient.) that i have this complete obsession with, well, the truth. I can't stand it when i see other people lie, or when i lie myself, or when i even see people acting like someone they're not. Fake people make me crazy. absolutely insane.r. most likely because i used to be one of them. and now, this is me. screaming at them that it's not worth it. people are going to like for who you are or they aren't. and like my oh-so-wise brother says... "People like me. And if they don't, well, their loss." Anyway, for the second reason, my whole obsession with being honest makes me a pretty candid and a not very polished person. which is funny, cuz if i could describe my other obsession in two words it would be class and polish. I ADORE everything classy; big cities, lights, glass houses... hence the name. :)
Since I'm both a writer and a photographer I'll probably post both pictures and things i've written on here. and I love movies and music too, so i might add in some movie reviews and things. cuz if there is one thing i have enough to share of, it's opinion.
Ta Da! :)
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