Thursday, September 29, 2011

GoodReads! Also A Tiny Update.

So I joined GoodReads, guys!  I am not sure what this means.  Hopefully that I will be reading more books.

Anyhow.  Profile is here!  Be my friend if you know me!

(Hopefully you do if you are reading my blog, yes? ^~^ )

Also.  I am writing something.  Something FICTIONAL.  With CHARACTERS.
I don't know if it has come to your attention lately, but I have not been writing much.  I have been reading Dante and John Hus and James Madison and Abeka Consumer Mathematics In Christian Perspective (R) and not so much fiction books, so I have not been really inspired.  But Elisabeth my love posted a meme on her site and I decided to try, to see if I really had starved my muses completely to death this school year.


Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Life and meaning.


and meaning

We assign so many definitions.  We come up with so many quotes.  We ask questions.  What is life?  What is meaning?

Why are we wasting our time when You already asked these questions?

You’re the only One with the answer.


and meaning

They’re You.

It’s just that simple.

To live as You lived, act as You act, love like You loved.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Have Your Way

Have Your Way
 Britt Nicole

Feels like I've been here forever,
Why don't You just intervene?
Do You see the tears keep falling?
And I'm falling apart at the seams

But You never said the road would be easy,
But You said that you would never leave.
And You never promised that this life wasn't hard,
But You promised you'd take care of me.

Friday, September 16, 2011

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet...

 Actually, now that I stare at the words on the screen, that’s kind of a dumb name for this post.  Because, I mean, roses don’t always smell, guys.  And when they don’t, I always feel a little cheated, like they extracted the smell just because they knew those dumb roses would be coming to me, and they know that I’m waiting for the day that I smell some roses that smell like magic, if not at least flowers, and they wish to prolong my suffering. It’s unkind of them, I feel.
Who are they?  Who knows.  Smurfs, maybe?
If you find out, let me know.
Also in the same vein of endowing me with wisdom, will some kind lady please explain to me why the best kinds of perfume I can ever smell here on earth are all from really raunchy stores I do not wish to patronize?  It’s like you can’t smell delicious without selling your soul to a store that encourages prostitution.  No thanks, guys.  But I will buy your PINK for reduced prices under the table.  Kthnx.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

This Is The Way That You Are

 The Way That You Are
The Classic Crime

He gets his information from overhearing conversations.
He doesn't ask questions, doesn't learn many lessons.
And he keeps his mouth shut,
until it boils over, and he blows up
And then he can't form his words right,
they don't fit together so tight

And I hope to God that he will find his name
and not listen to his "so-called" friends when they so boldly say:

This is the way, that you are
Don't let them say
This is the way, that you are

Thursday, September 8, 2011

I'm Just A Man

Please, don't hold me up as an example.

People have done this to me all my life.  They tell me I'm an inspiration, a good role model for their daughters, a sweet girl that helps restore their hope in my generation.

And lately, when they do, a mask of complimented absence slips down over my face, and I smile and thank them, letting their words slide.  In one ear.  Out the other.

I'm not saying this because I'm proud.  I'm saying it because I need to be humbled.  I have an exorbitant amount of pride, and I am learning to despise, more than anything, heartfelt compliments of how great I am.

I am pleased I appear an obvious follower of Jesus Christ.  I am glad that people see things in me they want their children to exemplify.  I understand when they are compelled to tell me so and to let me know how they feel.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Excuses! Which I Am Completely Certain You Want To Hear

That’s the word that comes to mind when I think of how I’ve been neglecting my poor Parenthetically Bizarre.  Crazy, absolutely, off-the-wall, insane-asylum, what-are-you-taking, beyond-comprehension crazy.
HAHA! Silly question.  School, that’s why. 
And before that, it was painting my room.  Yep, it went from happy lemon yellow....
(Wish I had a better picture, but we were, like, working and stuff, ya'll.  Wresting wallpaper border from the walls that was most certainly demonic in every aspect of the word.  Didn't have time for pictures.)
to this lovely shade of blue in this picture here:
And orange, too, on the wall opposite.  White on the walls between.  It's super cool looking.

 And then we moved Onii-chan in to his college dorm last Friday.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Fresh Memories (And They're Already Sepia Tones)

Watching you walk away is hard.  I feel as though everything I’ve offered to you, every piece of my heart, every breath and word and smile, is going with you, and you’re going a long way off.  Everything I’ve given you is following you, spinning after you, like a leaf dropped in a whirling eddy of water, and all I can do is watch and pray it doesn’t go under, that it stays its course and makes it through the tiny rapids in the creek, because they’re really huge. They’re huger for that leaf than you could ever imagine.

As you walk away a thousand memories are coming to mind, and I feel like I’m losing you. I’m not.  You’re just becoming your own person, making your own decisions, leaving for a while.  You’ll come back, I know it.

but it’s a helpless feeling watching you whirl in the ripples and eddies and swirls, and all I can do is clutch my hands to my face and pray you’ll do fine.

I know you’ll do fine.

But helplessness is a hard thing to adjust to.

All the Memories

I will never cease to be fascinated by the flow of time.
So many years… and so many minutes… and yet, so little time.
I can’t remember it all.  My brain can’t remember everything.  It can’t even remember a little of all I’ve been through, what I’ve seen, experienced, said, loved.
I’m a senior this year.  I’m graduating, class of 2012.  I sat in my grandmother’s house, ten years old, bemoaning the fact I was only in 6th grade.  “I still have six more years. I’m only halfway done. School is gonna take forever!”  I told her, rolling my eyes dramatically.
Those years-- where did they go?
What happened to them?
I couldn’t tell you.  I don’t know.  Just gone, where time goes, and I don’t really remember them, because I can’t, because no one can remember them all.
My brother is leaving for college today.  We’re driving him north, to Indiana Wesleyan University, where he’ll study away the next 4 years of his life.  Nursing, to become a professor someday. 
Moving out.
Growing up.
That’ll be me next year.  Headed to college.  Moving out.  Growing up.  A woman.
Why aren’t we still those little kids, he running around in the Ash Ketchum hat with the Pikachu plushes, I skipping after in the pink sundress and the jelly shoes and the insanely long curly hair?