The tree sends his twittering leaves
Golden into my swaying hair
Substitutes of your fingers
It’s lacking your warmth.
Forced poetry sucks.
When did using the word love ever become rightfully used before like? Love is strong. Love is powerful. But, if you’re telling me that you love me and also that girl down the hall that you occasionally talk crap about, I’m not down. It tells me something about your kind of love. If it’s the same as what you hold for that other girl, I don’t want it. Maybe I am being too critical, but the overuse of the word love seems to cheapen it. I know it’s just a word, but the magnitude of what that word implies is deeper than anyone’s understanding. A super rad youth leader of mine, never told another woman that he loved her besides his mother and sister until he knew he would marry her. To propose to her, all he had to say was I love you, and she knew right away that he was proposing to her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. How RAD is that? To be told I love you and know that one’s feelings were so deep that they wanted to spend the rest of their life with you? That one I love you was more powerful than any I love you quickly muttered at the end of a phone call, signed at the end of a note, or even a facebook comment. I don’t necessarily think that everyone needs to be this hardcore about it, but still. Isn’t that so COOL? I still get tripped up by it. That’s why I tend to steer clear of telling another guy I love them. Sometimes it slips and come out as a more camaraderie, brother thing, or so I hope, but I instantly regret it. Love is so powerful. It needs to be shared, but the word shouldn’t escape your mouth like diarrhea. Think about what it means, then say it.
Yep, you guessed it. I am supposed to be writing a ten page research paper right now. It’s 6:44 AM. I typed away in a word document and transferred this small section to my blog. I wrote to get inspired and ended up writing 4 pages single spaced. I’ll post them in parts, gradually. I have learned that I am excessive and I never know when to stop. I can’t ever stop myself. Kacie had to change my password for twitter AND facebook, because I lack the self-discipline that normal people have. I can’t just tell myself to not go on. I waver and try to justify my reasons. I need that self discipline that would make me productive.
Just know whenever you read these posts that I am supposed to be doing something else. ALWAYS. For some reason I find it most appropriate to read my old poetry, write new, or reflect on life when a major assignment is due. When nothing is demanding my attention, I become stagnant. I waste time. I let days slip by, though I crave to do something that is of worth. I hate being forced to write. I get the job done, but begrudgingly, and in turn I never get to enjoy it. I think it is a shame, a waste of time, and honestly worthless if you can not even enjoy it. I used to write and sometimes still write being fueled by the praise that English teachers and friends have given me. If they praised it, I would consider it worthy. If they were silent, I automatically hated whatever I had written. I think because my writing is such a big part of my heart exposed, it hurt even more if it was rejected by the reader. I still have never fully liked anything I have ever written. It’s never good enough.
Today, I am not always as such. I will still hold some writings close to my heart and show it to very few, but I am learning to be open. In the physical and emotional realm, I ironically allow my heart roam and get smashed. I grow unsatisfied quickly. I am emotion driven and I fly at the whim of my ever-changing heart. I am slowly learning how to guard my heart and become rooted in Truth. I need biblical truth and rational to sustain my emotion filled whims. I learned painfully at the start of my adventure at Pepperdine that guarding my heart does not mean I have to push people away. I hurt him and it was unfair. He trusted me and shared with me, but I refused to share with him. I was too afraid. I am afraid of being hurt. My poor heart has gone through so much and the last thing I want is to be vulnerable. Yet, I hurt him. I need to find a median. Not thrusting my heart fully upon someone, but not shutting it off all together.
October:
Impatient that I am
Unsure of that you are
Passively you allow hate
I passively allow my heart to wander
Roaming wherever you are
You’re always so near
Your mind so very far
Look at me. Look at me.
But I still see emptiness.
The eyes reveal my soul
Yours reveal dim shadows
Nothing to show
No emotion, no care
But thoughts.
Always thoughts.
Love doesn’t come from thoughts
Though it encourages
Like kindling
But any flowing wind,
Any tears of moisture
Quickly extinguishes
Wrote this in two seconds after seeing a ladybug after English 215. I sat in Payson’s Dungeon and word vomited it. Please pray for a passing G.P.A. for me and that I can still go to Shanghai. Mitch Paramo, thank you for your rap texts. They help me through the day. Thanks to everyone else who has been encouraging me. This is the last night of homelessness and I am dead tired. I also found out I had a summary due at ten tomorrow morning. Oh joy. Peace and bring love to others.
Little ladybug
Cemented in the concrete
Do not let your antennae fret
There is hope.
As I stroll pass your orange-red splotch
There is hope.
Lift your tiny feelers
Up and out of the ground.
You can fly.
You can fly.
You can paint the smiles of faces
And write your song in your 6-legged calligraphy.
October 25, 2009
There was poetry in the way she moved.
I am writing again. This makes me feel whole. Makes me feel like myself. There is a boy. When is there ever not a boy? But this boy. I don’t want to like him. I am guarding my heart. I am steering away from him. My heart needs a rest sometimes. So does my mind. Yet my mind is pacing. My feet restless. My heart heavy. So much that is new. So much new happiness. And so much new pain. Happiness and pain I have yet to experience.
November 8, 2009
Lord please send me another avocado dream
A sunny day in the spring
With a cool breeze showering us with a mist of baby leaves
All of us holding onto
A nice ripe avocado.
Giggling all together
Delight and anticipation golden
Taking turns with the knife
And a quick pop of the seed
Mush it, mother?
How would you like it baby Rye?
More sugar in your paste?
Or a tortilla chip for you Kace?
Mix it together
Stir it right up
Avocados for everyone.
Creamy and rich
The most lovely shade of green
Thick and hugging each spoon
As we shake dollops into mounds
Mounds of heavenly texture.
In between the yellows and greens
Pick out a few of them veins
It’s pure avocado bliss
Put away the liquor
It won’t brown in this dream.
Lord please send me another avocado dream.
November 16, 2009
Hardening. Melting. What’s the difference between guarding our heart and hardening it? Unattainables. A whole list of ‘em. Can one guard without hurting another? To shift my pain… or possibility of pain to the other? I have not written. I have not been myself. I have not written in 6 months to the par at which I once did. My brain is mush and my words reflect the scum I have allowed myself to become. No wonder I am swimming and lost in this giant vat of “college experience.” If I survive this semester and am still eligible to go to Shanghai next year, it will not be of my own strength, but of God’s. Lord, will you restore me?
November 18, 2009
These posts are really products of my lack of discipline. Priorities are out of whack right now. I am homeless and have been sleeping out in Jocelyn Plaza since Sunday. It’s a demonstration/fundraiser for LA Mission and it has been a blast. Fellowship and worship have been incredible, but the purpose of my stay here is not being fulfilled. THIS IS A SCHOOL, I AM HERE FOR STUDY. Yet, I am just praying that I get a 2.5, so I can study in Shanghai for a year and not get kicked out. A 2.5? Really? If I went back in time and told myself this, I would have punched myself in the gut. I need prayer. I need discipline. I need Him.
