XL. It's only 3:30am.

I won't lie, for a while I was losing hope.

I don't know why, but sometimes I get so overwhelmed by life that a robot starts acting in my place. An evil robot. It's like all the good intentions and warm feelings I have get tossed out into oblivion and the only goal I have is to find time to wallow.

I can't help the things that are happening, good and bad. The only thing I can do is try to figure out what makes things good and do it. I'm so tired of being afraid of my fears. Disappointment. Loneliness. Selfishness. Abandonment. Uselessness. Failure. Pain. Lost loved ones. Anger. Lust.

What really breaks my heart is that I want to lock it up. I keep considering locking up my heart in a coffin because of the past. And then I read this story about a man in Haiti who clung to love and didn't give up on his wife. True love is out there. Why do I keep giving up on it?

In the midst of my negative thoughts, I was having another sleepless night. I looked at the clock that read 5:50am and really regretted my life. Then, out of nowhere, my life was before me:

On the movie screen behind my eyelids I saw a hand reach into mud. The nastiness was dripping everywhere, dark and mucky. Then two hands started forming the mud into a jar. The jar was filled with water.

I remember writing a poem back at JMU that I felt so strongly about. I just realized that being back at JMU now has brought it full circle (a strong theme in my life). I'm so confused about so many things right now. But I'm not hopeless. It's not 5:50am. It's only 3:30. True love may be hard to find. But it's out there.


F L I M S Y B A S K E T

I am lost in
a plain of streams; they are
braided to make beautiful
a mess of fallen trees.
I climbed into a boat
drifting home, but my
head is empty of just myself;
I cannot see the leaks
of this cracked vessel
so I reach the edge
of the world.

Don’t try to fill me,
for a cup I am not.
I’ll break before the overflow
with skin so thin.
Yet, you’ve insisted
we’re in this together:
woven hair, twisted twine;
I’d make a flimsy basket.

Take the weight of
my conscience, and please,
sink down with me;
you won’t fade
like me.
Strands of me
flail wildly against the tide
but we can meet
at the bottom and
suspend
‘til I am no more.

XXXIX. On a lighter note.

Top 5 albums that I (and YOU) need to get:

Pheonix - Wolfgang Amadeus Pheonix

David Gray - Draw the Line

Mika - The Boy Who Knew Too Much

Mew - No More Stories...

Efterklang - Performing Parades

Goooodness, where have I been?!?! Oh yea... Korea. :]

If there are any good ones that I'm missing, let a lady know.

XXXVIII. Straight up.

THIS IS A RANT. So don't read it, unless you want to experience the frustrations of my mind.

It's weird.
When I was younger this would seriously scare me: "For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths."

It's a pet peeve of mine when Christians tell me about God,
when all they're telling me are their own opinions that they think are God's
yet they themselves don't spend time with God.

They don't know the Bible, which is "the Word of God" nor do they pray and ask God to reveal himself to them. In my opinion, the Christians of today are practically agnostic. By definition an agnostic is a person "who claims neither faith nor disbelief in God." We would never disclaim God, but we don't have faith. We don't believe in the unknown anymore. Our actions reveal that God is situational. He only comes out when the timing is right and when it makes sense.
I go back to why I was scared.

People will inevitably fall away from truth, because it's just so damn hard to handle sometimes. I always got that. Got that one good.

I was scared because I didn't want to be one of those people who knew the love of God to be so real, yet come to a point in my life when I wouldn't care about my spiritual temperature. Yet, I'm falling into my own fearrr! I'm drowning in a pool of my own luke warm water.

Here's an even bigger pet peeve, if you're a Christian with a sterile heart, DON'T SPREAD YOUR PARALYSIS.

Don't say you love God if you don't really love God and be careful when you say you love God if you don't love people.


(As a side note, please don't try to argue for or against weed. We're all missing the point.)


I say all these things talking about myself... yet even with all things considered, there's hope...

XXXVII. I'm done with boys, show me a man.

XXXVI. Eyes As Candles

That's a frosty way to speak,
To tell me how to live next to your potpourri.
All this talking pulls my teeth.
I believed in you, so you believed in..

Me, I cried out, "God"
You dared me in the dark.
I felt a hush fall quietly from my spark.
So now I hide in piles of princely orange peels.
It feels the way you told me how it'd always feel.

Once I had a name to call you.
It scraped along the walls like an orthodox saint.
I wish for the same old things that turn me inside out.
Hearing is a strain, it's a game!

Never have I ever been
Clutching at your hair to cure you of some sin,
But that's the kind of state I'm in:
Swimming in a pool of godly medicine.

"Come, come," I hear it calling me, yelling,
Like if ever there was someone who could make things heavy again..
Feel alive!