Pages

project your goodness; you never know who will see.

Search This Blog

Thursday, May 8, 2014

little things

little things done here.
little things done there.
little things tear at seams;
little things wear down thick wooden beams.
little things, my heart does not want you.
little things, my heart did not mean to buy you. 

still, i collected you so easily,
i didn't think to save space.
you took up so little
having more did not seem like much.

little things wear down thick wooden beams.
eating through supports;
rushing out reports-
whispering to the devils who transport 
little things
into hearts
whose spaces seem inviting- eager to be filled.
but are more vacuous, ignorant; stubborn and still. 

little things done here.
little things done there.
little things breach across poorly drawn lines
making me have to care.

little things. i did not mean to buy you.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

Dear God,
   Thank you so much for these warmer months! I mean, I know I say I like cold weather, but I still have my limits- not being able to wear the cute outfits I want to wear wears me down.
   Funny the things that keep my moods good.
   Books.
   Classy outfits.
   Food and drink.
   Comfy chairs.
   Music.
   So, anyway, today was a good. Didn't have to pay the meter for parking, thank you. Little things, right? What else happened today? Got a lot of writing done today. Yesterday, I started reading 'Apt Pupil'- the second novel/novella of Stephen King's Different Seasons. I was so horribly thrilled, God, that I am now extremely grateful for King's writing prowess. I'm almost afraid of finishing 'Apt Pupil' not because I don't want it to end, but I'm afraid of what will progress.
   So...today wasn't mean to me, it was just...another day. So, (my readers can't hear me) God, when I sing 'Tomorrow Will Be Kinder' to you...I guess I'm asking for a particularly special surprise. I don't know what surprise. I just-. This whole 'active waiting' thing is making me anxious. It's almost summer- I'll have all that time to vegetate, but I really don't want to vegetate. What should I do? I don't want to vegetate. I want to do something. ...something that will earn me money. Preferably. But, you know, whatever.
   Fields of flowers don't worry. I shouldn't worry. Nope.


   You got it, God. No worrying. Just...you'll forgive me if I keep singing 'Tomorrow Will Be Kinder'. It's such a melancholy tune, and my throat likes the feel of it.
   Thank you for everything God. Meter-less parking spots. A voice that sounds decent when it sings. Caring friends and family. A sense of purpose.
   Thanks.
   I love you.

Monday, May 5, 2014

Cat & Deen: Name Names

His name was so strange, she had to become his best friend: the only guy she could never marry. Done deal. She approached him quickly, and certainly not as suavely as she intended but he didn't seem to notice. "Hi," she smiled at him, "uh, I'm Jane. I hear you're...new."
   He wasn't sure whether he should smile or walk away, but he liked the gap between her teeth so he said, "Hi Jane. I'm-."
   "Cera Agustin Tomlin."
   Cera nodded and smiled, but scooted a couple centimeters away.
   Jane continued, "I'm just Jane. Jane Dodeen."
   "Nice to meet you."
   "Can I call you Cat?"
   Cera was so surprised, he answered, "Only if I can call you Deen."
   They shook on it.

Cat had made several new friends at school, all of whom had names he considered strange, but he never said so out loud. He didn't want to hurt his new friends' feelings. He knew exactly what it was like being made fun of for having a weird name. A girl's name, but even weirder because it wasn't even spelled normally. But at this new school everyone had such different, strange names that they weren't so strange after all.
   He liked to write their names to practice his handwriting (his teachers' gave out gold stars for the students with the best handwriting). Soon, he realized that his name was nothing short of ordinary compared to his classmates' names.
   Some of his classmates' names meant something in different languages.
   Other kids were named after great heroes or events.
   Other only went by initials.
   As far as Cat knew, he was the only one who went by an animal.
   One day he tried to call (his new best friend) Deen, Dog, but a teacher scolded him for that. His teacher didn't explain why; he'd only said, "Don't call girls dogs." Cat never did again.

"I!" Deen declared during recess one day, "Have an! Idea!" She raised her arms high. "You are all! Going to! Love! My idea!"
   Most of the kids didn't pay attention. Cat did, but he had no choice, he was in the middle of playing Go Fish (which they endearingly call 'Go Cat') when she interrupted their game with this announcement. But Deen was undeterred, determined to get everyone's attention. "Excuse me!" she yelled. When they still didn't pay attention she recruited the help of a teacher.
   The teacher, amused, decided to help. She hollered, "If you can hear my voice, put your hands on your head!" All the children put their hands on their heads. "If you can hear my voice, put your hands on your shoulders!" Shoulders. "If you can hear my voice-!"
   "It's okay," Deen interrupted. "They can hear me now, Mrs. Hoven." She hemmed and knitted her fingers together. "I! I have! An idea! You are all! Going to love! My idea." Her classmates' looked at her absently, eager to return to their games and play. "We should all exchange names! Because we can't exchange shoes! That's gross. If we exchange names, we can know what it's like to be someone else!"

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Tenth Avenue North's "Grace"


sorry i haven't sung you a song in a while, but i haven't sung any hymns in church that i like enough to sing, but please enjoy this lyric video. 

tenth avenue north is great! 

Grace! Only Grace, can move your dead heart's stone away...

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Hopeful

Apparently, this month is also not going to be a month of full of blogs. It's like, have you ever mentally answered a text but you never sent it? That's what my blog is like now. Gah.

what should have been yesterday (Friday):
A couple weeks ago I read Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption by Stephen King. A novella. Read it in a day. Loved it. Even if you've seen the 1994 movie, the main character, Andy Dufresne, is just as endearing. So you know that while he is imprisoned, Andy builds a library and from that, helps people earn their GEDs/high school equivalencies. Don't ask me when Andy said this, or to whom he said this, but he at one point talks about what makes or breaks a man- frankly, what it is that makes a person:
But it isn't just a piece of paper that makes a man. And it isn't just a prison that breaks one, either.
Even two years out of college, it's easy to still think of my success and failures in terms of percentages and letters. And, no, I've never been in prison, but if it's anything like what Brooks Hadley (from the movie) experienced, it's sad: a poor definition that limits him as a human being. Or, as Red would say, institutionalized.

What makes or breaks a person is not as easy to point out. To each his own weakness, but also to each his own strength, and unfortunately, the two are often intertwined making it harder to understand and know what we need to do in order to develop and improve.

If only I arrived the moment I graduated. If only he were completely torn down when he was imprisoned. But either way, that's not how it works. We read stories like the Shawshank because of the hope it gives. Hope that there is more to me than papers and stone.

Speaking of hope...

what is today (Saturday):
I decided I want to reread Nehemiah, one of my favorite books of the Bible. So much so that I want to name future daughter after him. Daughter, you ask? Uh, yeah! So I can call her Miah (MYa) for short! Anyway, anyway.

I only reread the first two chapters, which brought a question to my mind: Why does Nehemiah have to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem? No, no. I totally get what walls meant back then. I mean, have you seen the blue walls of Babylon?! The walls of a city are its pride- the first wave of protection. A city without walls is a vulnerable city, susceptible to any attack. No city wants that.

But still... Why Nehemiah? You're not even living in Jerusalem anymore. You're cup bearer to Artaxerxes, King of Persia. Why go back? Because it's where he belongs: it's still home.

But then I ask, why was it destroyed in the first place? If we believe in the same God that means Nehemiah and I both know that God allowed the walls to be destroyed. But why, God?

Nehemiah answers, ...even I and my father's house have sinner (7) We have acted very corruptly against you and have not kept the commandments, the statues, and the rules that you commanded your servant Moses.

From what I've read and studied so far, God's relationship with his chosen people is short-term conditional. Before the Messiah comes, they have to follow all those rules. (8) Remember the word that you commanded your servant Moses, saying, "If you are unfaithful, I will scatter you among the peoples- Nehemiah is cup bearer in Persia- far from home- (9) but if you return to me and keep my commandments and do them, though your outcasts are in the uttermost parts of heaven, from there I will gather them and bring them to the place I have chosen, to make my name dwell there. (emphasis mine)

Generally, God will act with or without his people, but I sense that he prefers to work with his people.

So, it looks as though, Nehemiah doesn't just rebuild the walls to restore safety and honor to his homeland and people, but also to restore his people's relationship with God. "God you promised this and have upheld your end. Now it's my turn to uphold my end of the promise."

Huh, that is a lot of pressure.

Thursday, May 1, 2014

please don't brighten at the sight of me

please don't brighten at the sight of me,
you don't know who i am. 
i'm glad you appreciate my face
and probably my other features...
BUT you haven't given yourself a chance to meet me. 
really, you've only see me
stand here.
what if you don't like the way i walk or run? 
or the way i brush back my hair with my hands? 
what if you hate my other outfits? 
especially how indecisive i am when i shop?
i guarantee i'll re-construct your sentences; i'll probably diagram them.
complain about a writer's cliches.

i'm glad you appreciate my face,
but you have yet to look under my leather bound covers 
to shuffle through worn, willing vanilla-scented pages. 
what if you find vanilla too boring? 

please don't brighten at the sight of me because 
you're inciting me to do the same.
frankly, i might be more willing to peruse your pages, than you would mine: 
that's what really scares me.