Friday, January 30, 2009

Listen for the building of the strings.

I want to live a life a reckless abandon.
I want to realize the reality of redemption.
I want to live a life that is unconscious to myself.
I want to be a servent.
I want to live a deliberate life.

These are all things that i desperately yearn for. These things are also things that I don't do a very good job at. In this last semester, I would like to re-organize my priorities and try to live for Him, and not for myself.

I have spent the last week with zero power. Although I spent plent of time complaining about every moment, I honestly loved every second. I loved that my phone was out of battery, I loved that I couldn't check my email, and I loved that I was using candlelight to illuminate my room. Everything looks better in candlelight. It's incredible how connected we all are by means of electricity, and how unconnected we all are without it. Does this mean we are even truly connected anyway? I find it a bit ironic. It was a true adventure to figure out how to make coffee with my mom, the way the pioneers did. So what if it had some grounds left in it.... It was a perfect cup of coffee. Everything tastes better when you work for it. It was really great to be with my mom for those few days. She didn't care that my bangs were entirely greasy, or that I had been wearing t-shirt/sweatpants combo for the past 4 days. She cared about how I was. I love that woman.

There is nothing like listening to a song that starts off so subtle, and slowly builds, until it hits you in the face with it's beauty. Sometime it brings tears to my eyes.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Maybe it's not that big of a deal.

When I am reading poetry, I always feel like I am reading something forbidden. I always am glancing over my shoulders to make sure no one knows that I am really just reading a stolen diary. But then I remember that it is, in fact, a published collection of thoughts for the world to see.
I mean, when you think about it, poetry is simply the result of living. Everday we are constantly living an art form. Everything we do, think, and see is, in some way, poetic.

So, I guess you could say we are all poets. Some of us just choose to write it down.

Why can't I just be happy that you are happy?
Dysfunctional are my relationships of late.