"The Pen is Might[ier]"

Maybe if I post things that I've written before I might get more motivated to write something new...

Maybe.

Anyway, this is from about a year ago.  It's far from perfect, hardly edited, and actually liked by me. 

That is why concession became a word that was more and more meaningful to her: its presence in her consciously accepted subconscious became the lens thru which she interpreted everything around her. The boom of every laugh was slightly muted. The brightness of the setting sun was less menacing. The immobility that gripped her, that sunk its claws into her open eyes every morning, as she would lie motionless on her back in bed was all because she had conceded to the fact that he had not. The painful glimmer of hope that she had used to taunt her own better judgement fell from its perch fruitless--as all things artificial suck the life out that from which it originates, yielding nothing by means of compost and promise. Lying between her sheets every morning, she enacts her concession, watching her blind, stupid hope flit down through the air like a plastic shopping bag caught in the wind, watching it inevitably sink, yet still thrusts itself upwards at times in a last ditch effort to fly again.

"You should be a bird," she always thinks, watching her un-recyclable, transparent hope dance before her on its way down, aiming to entice her with its artificial beauty. "I wanted you to be a bird."

She finishes her illicit rendezvous with her hope every morning by punching her loving and sympathetic pillow.  They usually start out rapid and powerfully, the blow delivered by a fist clenched as tightly as the anatomy of the human hand allows. The punches were intended to create the most trauma and devastation to its target--a very pliable pillow personified as a very specific human face. As the satisfaction derived from what was imagined as the breaking of facial bones and eruption of blood vessels began to subside, so did the punching. That breaking point always occurred when she felt a tiny solitary tear escape; after the first tear, she quit with an added grace of pacifism and continued on with her day. She was determined to maintain some air of strength, convinced he didn't deserve more than just one of her tears each day. So on a particularly windy day in her imagination, she would spend a great deal of the time allotted to her morning routine aggressively slamming her fist into her pillow.

the ever-constant musings on the possibilities of expropriation...

something i was thinking about in terms of property: if we think that we own things, that means we feel entitled, and we also feel entitled to people. like, when i meet someone wonderful, my first reaction is that i deserve to be with them, because they are so great. and i get upset when i think that someone great doesn't want to be with me. like i am 'entitled' to 'own' the wonderfulness of that person, so to speak.

it just comes down to us not knowing/practicing how to love and marvel at something wonderful that was created, without feeling like we are entitled to own it/them: like, open spaces, food, art, things, people.

just some thoughts.

Dear Surprise(s),

i would be much obliged if you would kindly cease from performing such charming and gracious acts that may cause me to fall for you.


sincerely yours,

This was a year ago...

Of the better parts of 2008 was the summer, even though we did not know it.  The obscurity that resulted from the big life change of graduation had left us with no money, no clarity, and time to use our imaginations.  We were settling down in the unknown in anticipation for the permanent, and on our worst days that left us in abject horror.  Plans, plans, plans, with predictable outcomes and expected fulfillment, is what drove us to the edge of insanity and back while we navigated through our education, endured existential breakdowns, and befriended those who we would want to be in our weddings some day.  But those plans were suddenly absent from our lives, their sweet comfortable structures as reassuring as those parts of childhood we cling to in our memories.  Snatched from our hands with considerable violence, we lost our perspective and sense of direction--up was no long right, good no longer west.

But, we had learned to be resilient. We could be given $3 and make our day's meals; we could be given three hours and create a thesis.  So when we were given life with no direction, we filled it with each other: weekly dinners together, evening reading time at coffee shops, theological discussions over a pint, job hunting in each other's living rooms, creative dinner parties, back yard reflections with a smoke.  Small excursions distracted us from the fact we weren't escaping from anything.  Journeys into the heart and world of a masterpiece helped rebuild meaning in our own.  Prayers over meals, smiles and laughter because we were all in this together.  

And, then, suddenly, we weren't; some of us found full-time employment that sparked excitement in our hearts, and some found their hearts were best to roam elsewhere.  We started to fill our lives with the stability we were yearning for rather than each other, and it took awhile to notice the absence.  That the colors that surrounded us seemed less vibrant--that the beauty of life in somewhat less compelling when you can't point it out to someone else.  

A tasty little teaser...

Ok, so I've been M.I.A. for the past two months on here, so I offer this formal apology to my five followers who have probably been anxiously checking the blog daily, wearing out the front edge of their chairs and couches in anticipation for new posts.  Lo siento.

This mid-Lent to post-Easter season has brought along many changes for me, both promising and tragic, yet always hopeful.  And all of which will hopefully be chronicled in a blog post for all to partake in.  Here are some small updates and potential teasers:

 

*I may have found the graduate program I want to participate in!  It's an M.A. of Religion at Claremont Graduate University--I'll probably specialize in the Ethics and Society track, and focus on Social Ethics.  I'm going to an informational meeting next month, so I'll give an update on how that goes...

*I have found where I will be living after the summer, and that's all I can say about that right now...(but trust me, it's good stuff!)

*My community at home has experienced a terrible loss through the death of our friend and my former high school pastor Ed Denton on April 15.  I'm still daily processing this, though very slowly and very quietly.  I had to drive up north for the service last weekend, and I started a post on that experience as well.  

*Danica and Matt have successfully indoctrinated me into nerdom, because I am so excited for these two movies to come out in May.  Hopefully us at Sci-Fi Pi will get our acts together after watching these...

*I posted some pictures of my various travels on my Picasa page.  There is a slideshow near the bottom of my blog page with a link to the site.  View, and enjoy...

There's more, but I won't write them down, 'cause, eh...I'm still emerging from my lazy slump.

What I wish I was doing last Tuesday, but I have peace that I couldn't

And it came to me then
That every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU
That reeked of piss and 409
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself
That I'd already taken too much today
As each descending peak on the LCD
Took you a little farther away from me
Away from me

Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines
In a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend
On a faulty camera in our minds
But I knew that you were a truth
I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground
As the TV entertained itself

'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous paces bracing for bad news
Then the nurse comes around and everyone lifts their head
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said
That love is watching someone die

A tale of modern children's interpretations of Easter

This is an almost verbatim transcript of a scene at my church this Easter Sunday.  A bit disconcerting, and very hilarious...

At my church on Easter Sunday...

Pastor Josh: "Do any of you kids know what day it is?"
Kids: "EASTER!"
Josh: "Right! Do you know what Easter is about?"
Kid 1: "Umm, well, I thiiiiiink...eggs?"
Josh: "Well, yes, um...do you know what comes out of eggs?"
Kid 2 (son of pastor): "Oooh, oooh, I know! CANDY!"
Josh: "Any what else?"
Chorus of children: "MONEY!!!"

Oh, and that Jesus guy, right?  I'll say whatever you want, just keep giving me candy!