I have been dabbling in film photography lately, and finding out that it can be extremely tough. Although, slightly exciting and mysterious at the same time.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
I yam.
If you've ever visited the dentist, you can probably attest to the fact that it is incredibly difficult to have a full-out conversation with the person working on your mouth. I, however, have to say that I have just experienced a dentist appointment in which a full-out conversation did in fact happen, and not only did we converse in a manner in which the drool sucker (I attempted in Google search of what a drool sucker is called, but no such luck) was taken out for immediate answers from my mouth that was being cleaned, it was meaningful. I mean, I think I helped my dentist out with family problems. Who knows why he chose me to spill his family life on; I just hope I helped him.
Most of the conversation had begun its march after I talked about my dad and his absence in my little life - I told you it was deep - and then he kept saying I liked the subject of Psychology. This, I do not know where he got, but his assumptions were because I "analyze", which, to some extent, is true. I do know that I did leave the appointment with that feeling of Information Overload and decided to file it in my "That was strange..." file. But as I am drawing it back out, I have been analyzing why I am the way I am. I'd like to label this file "I yam." 
Just this morning I texted my mom asking her what elementary schools I had attended. Unfortunately, with the moving every two years of my life, I attended approximately three or four elementary schools. I can only name a few - Oak Forest Elementary (TN), Fernandez Elementary (TX), Sanford Elementary (VA) - and I still believe I am missing one. I specifically remember a school where we had a greenhouse where we would do little hands-on projects. That was the first time I learned that these specific butterflies were only alive for about 11 days. This was after raising my little caterpillar, watching he/she turn into a beautiful butterfly, and setting it free in our greenhouse. You can imagine my surprise and my sadness as a third grader. I think I wanted to rescue it and have it beat the odds. I also remember attending a school where they beat kids with a paddle; I swear I can still hear a little boy scream as I walked past the office.
All of these little memories that my mind so vaguely stored has made me nostalgic. Not in a "wish I could do it all over again" way, but more in a sit-down-take-out-the-photo-album-and-spread-every-picture-on-the-floor type of way. It almost seems surreal to think about how I so vaguely remember my first day of Kindergarten or how I remember reading Anne Frank in 5th grade because her story inspired me... plus someone said I looked like her, so I had to find out who this girl was. It's these little moment of innocence that seem so precious to hold onto, because as we get older their distance becomes greater between each memory.
These memories, that were once reality but now enigmatic, have become my chemical makeup. I have taken something from each happening and my memories serve a purpose as to who I have become... or who I yam. It isn't an indepth analyzation of who I "yam" or who I am becoming, it is more of a skim of my little life and all the innocence that had surrounded it. My memories attest to just that.
I did leave with one comment that lightened the mood. Doused in a heavy accent, my dentist said: "You may look 15, but you act and talk like a 25 year old."
Sunday, July 11, 2010
"...only diamonds remain."
I get in this specific mood when I am listening to John Mayer. In one of my favorite novels, The Special Topics in Calamity Physics (hint: it's not about the subject of physics), the main character, Blue, describes these certain moods as "Bourbon Moods" in reference to her father. Although my veins are not pumping bourbon - it's usually water - I do, however, feel that I am pumping with some kind of liquid. One that leaks nothing but words full of prose - sometimes poetry - and can only be shut off when I am brought back to the reality of what John Mayer is singing through my speakers. I am typically hooked to the beat; typing in furiosity with it, attempting not to lack in rhythm. It is only when that specific mood peaks and tips, I can get out what I feel or am aiming to feel.
My aim on this specific night, in this specific mood with John Mayer playing, is one that creaks like a footstep in an old house. That type of house that creaks only at the top of the stairs, and somehow every other step, so when you're trying to make your escape, you are given away before you hit the front door. Most of the time, someone in the household will flip on the lightswitch, ask what the heck you are doing and tell you to go back to your room. Then you will either:
A. Methodically think of another way to escape.
B. Try again in two weeks when it is no longer fresh in your mother or fathers mind.
C. Probably not attempt that again.
Granted, maybe you're an option "D." and you may conjure something beyond belief to escape. I do not know. I think I was more of an option "A." person back in high school. You know, that time before Jesus. That time where a moral compass was non-existent and logic was always emptied somewhere between my tripping in high heels that I was crazy for wearing or when I was covered in makeup too heavy for my face. It is this "beautiful" time in high school that I learned that I never was defined by anything. I instead put my definition into such things as alcohol and boys who would never remember my name unless they were bored and/or heartbroken by some other girl (I believe that is what one calls a "Rebound Girl").
To put it plainly, I was a messed up, trainwreck, lame excuse for a 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 year old.
I did not care about my image... or maybe I did. I think I cared in a way that Hollywood or Sunset Boulevard or "Who's who" cares. I honestly believed that my self worth was set into my group of friends who did the "cool" thing by getting a phone call of a local party or being able to get into a club VIP - when I wasn't even of age. These "friends", however much they listened to my venting, provided a good laugh, had great style, were not "friends". And I mean, honestly, who did I think I was? Given my body type even at the age of 21, I was even smaller then. I know I looked like a seven-year-old walking in high heels with poorly applied makeup speared upon my face. I was the Dollar Tree princess, trying desperately to be the one, with enough conformity, would become one of those who fit right into the Sunset Boulevard of the high school hallways.
I never did and crap... it was hard. It was hard to make these futile attempts and to never see the path I was following; the hole I was digging for myself. I was becoming the dead that would bury the dead. I was the epitome of everything I never wanted to be... it went so unrecognized. The incredible part in it all was that God was getting my attention through a lot of it. Of course, I did not see this through the blurred vision or through the blaring music of a party or through a stupid boy's pretty, petty, meaningless little words. I'll give you examples:
Getting caught sneaking out, wrecking my car, nearly losing a toe (not kidding), lies the smell of sulfur floating to the surface (my poor mother).
That is only to name of a few. I guess those are the more intense ones, and honestly, I do not know why I never picked up on them then. He was constantly trying to stop my footsteps (literally... that whole toe thing was terrible), and I never once considered that fact when I'd be sitting there every Sunday morning in church. Not once in the two years I had been there. It wasn't until graduation rolled around and my "friends" failed at making phone calls in my direction and my weekends were spent holed up in my room. I was alone. Utterly alone.
The Sunday morning it all finally hit can be described as that feeling you get during a Math problem or putting together some furniture with one too many bolts and screws - you ignored the instructions the entire time. I literally was like, "Oh, yeah... this is it." I finally received Jesus into my heart, but not only that, I literally wanted him to transform me. I wanted this to be real, and He did, too. Sure, I still messed up along the way. Being part of the world for those past 18 years was extremely hard to break away from. I had to cut ties that suddenly wanted back into my life and God really had to continue to work on me. I just had to be willing, and majority of the time I was. I started to feel real conviction. I started to understand what a moral compass is and God being the one direction, it was fantastic. It was a relief. I was so tired of doing it my own way. I was worn out from digging and never finding anything.
I think the worst part and the longest thing that had to work itself through was learning how to forgive myself. First, I had to have God work on that, then I had to cut out the people that kept wanting to remind me of the wretch I was. It took a long time... a very long time to forgive myself. But now, now it feels so amazing to not do this on my own.I know now the mistakes in my story have now turned around to glorify my God. He truly works everything out for my good.
As for the creaks in my house and constantly trying to escape, my repetitive and failed attempts in escaping were supposed to happen. God will be your creak when you're trying to get away, and He will always be the one to turn on the light and to tell you to go back. Don't resist. It is a beautiful thing. Even if you don't recognize it now.
One of the best ways to describe it is as John Mayer sings: "But this morning, there's a calm I can't explain. The rock candy's melted, only diamonds now remain."
My aim on this specific night, in this specific mood with John Mayer playing, is one that creaks like a footstep in an old house. That type of house that creaks only at the top of the stairs, and somehow every other step, so when you're trying to make your escape, you are given away before you hit the front door. Most of the time, someone in the household will flip on the lightswitch, ask what the heck you are doing and tell you to go back to your room. Then you will either:
A. Methodically think of another way to escape.
B. Try again in two weeks when it is no longer fresh in your mother or fathers mind.
C. Probably not attempt that again.
Granted, maybe you're an option "D." and you may conjure something beyond belief to escape. I do not know. I think I was more of an option "A." person back in high school. You know, that time before Jesus. That time where a moral compass was non-existent and logic was always emptied somewhere between my tripping in high heels that I was crazy for wearing or when I was covered in makeup too heavy for my face. It is this "beautiful" time in high school that I learned that I never was defined by anything. I instead put my definition into such things as alcohol and boys who would never remember my name unless they were bored and/or heartbroken by some other girl (I believe that is what one calls a "Rebound Girl").
To put it plainly, I was a messed up, trainwreck, lame excuse for a 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 year old.
I did not care about my image... or maybe I did. I think I cared in a way that Hollywood or Sunset Boulevard or "Who's who" cares. I honestly believed that my self worth was set into my group of friends who did the "cool" thing by getting a phone call of a local party or being able to get into a club VIP - when I wasn't even of age. These "friends", however much they listened to my venting, provided a good laugh, had great style, were not "friends". And I mean, honestly, who did I think I was? Given my body type even at the age of 21, I was even smaller then. I know I looked like a seven-year-old walking in high heels with poorly applied makeup speared upon my face. I was the Dollar Tree princess, trying desperately to be the one, with enough conformity, would become one of those who fit right into the Sunset Boulevard of the high school hallways.
I never did and crap... it was hard. It was hard to make these futile attempts and to never see the path I was following; the hole I was digging for myself. I was becoming the dead that would bury the dead. I was the epitome of everything I never wanted to be... it went so unrecognized. The incredible part in it all was that God was getting my attention through a lot of it. Of course, I did not see this through the blurred vision or through the blaring music of a party or through a stupid boy's pretty, petty, meaningless little words. I'll give you examples:
Getting caught sneaking out, wrecking my car, nearly losing a toe (not kidding), lies the smell of sulfur floating to the surface (my poor mother).
That is only to name of a few. I guess those are the more intense ones, and honestly, I do not know why I never picked up on them then. He was constantly trying to stop my footsteps (literally... that whole toe thing was terrible), and I never once considered that fact when I'd be sitting there every Sunday morning in church. Not once in the two years I had been there. It wasn't until graduation rolled around and my "friends" failed at making phone calls in my direction and my weekends were spent holed up in my room. I was alone. Utterly alone.
The Sunday morning it all finally hit can be described as that feeling you get during a Math problem or putting together some furniture with one too many bolts and screws - you ignored the instructions the entire time. I literally was like, "Oh, yeah... this is it." I finally received Jesus into my heart, but not only that, I literally wanted him to transform me. I wanted this to be real, and He did, too. Sure, I still messed up along the way. Being part of the world for those past 18 years was extremely hard to break away from. I had to cut ties that suddenly wanted back into my life and God really had to continue to work on me. I just had to be willing, and majority of the time I was. I started to feel real conviction. I started to understand what a moral compass is and God being the one direction, it was fantastic. It was a relief. I was so tired of doing it my own way. I was worn out from digging and never finding anything.
I think the worst part and the longest thing that had to work itself through was learning how to forgive myself. First, I had to have God work on that, then I had to cut out the people that kept wanting to remind me of the wretch I was. It took a long time... a very long time to forgive myself. But now, now it feels so amazing to not do this on my own.I know now the mistakes in my story have now turned around to glorify my God. He truly works everything out for my good.
As for the creaks in my house and constantly trying to escape, my repetitive and failed attempts in escaping were supposed to happen. God will be your creak when you're trying to get away, and He will always be the one to turn on the light and to tell you to go back. Don't resist. It is a beautiful thing. Even if you don't recognize it now.
One of the best ways to describe it is as John Mayer sings: "But this morning, there's a calm I can't explain. The rock candy's melted, only diamonds now remain."
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Your orchestra.
And it gets to a point
when you're trying so hard
to latch onto
every positive note left.
Because.
Because every negative note
wants to be in your orchestra.
When the symphony gets louder
the notes become enraged,
and all you want to do
is play a love song;
a child to sleep;
a slow dance.
And the negatives, they
push and they pull.
They want their way.
But you,
you keep playing;
holding close to these positive notes.
Knowing they will rise higher;
they will play louder;
they will be heard.
Ride these notes to their highest.
To the peak
in which none can reach.
Your negatives will slow
and the defeat will stop.
This orchestra is yours.
when you're trying so hard
to latch onto
every positive note left.
Because.
Because every negative note
wants to be in your orchestra.
When the symphony gets louder
the notes become enraged,
and all you want to do
is play a love song;
a child to sleep;
a slow dance.
And the negatives, they
push and they pull.
They want their way.
But you,
you keep playing;
holding close to these positive notes.
Knowing they will rise higher;
they will play louder;
they will be heard.
Ride these notes to their highest.
To the peak
in which none can reach.
Your negatives will slow
and the defeat will stop.
This orchestra is yours.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Go.
I am in my workout room, attempting to figure out a moment to think. Just think. That's all I want to do at this point. I attempt a yoga move and I don't even do yoga. In fact, I just typed "Yoda" instead of "yoga". I figure, maybe, it will pour some thoughts out of my ear and I will be left with fewer thoughts than I started with. That was an obvious fantasy that concluded in me possibly pulling an awkward muscle. I give up. In the midst of my giving up, I keep hearing Corey's voice.
"You need to go." he says, enunciating the go. And that is that.
It was said with such intensity across the table at Steak 'n' Shake. I took a sip of my water, allowed the words to sink in and then he went into further explanation. Corey kept saying that I need to figure out that God isn't found in a podcast or a book... that God is doing things in people, and particularly those found outside the walls and seas that America is surrounded by. Just moments and conversations before, I had been talking about this exact same thing with the kids in my car; how I was ready to go on a missions trip, but I just did not know where yet. Then to hear Corey confirming that? I think God is ready to tell me something. Even in recent weeks I have been debating on where God wants me to go, what He wants me to do, how He wants me to act. Then with every question, came some kind of distraction... something that kept trying to through me off of my axis.
But that is how it happens. I find myself asking where God wants me to go, and here comes the enemy himself, attempting to unravel the things God is trying to put together. Or let's be honest here: "Yet You know me, O Lord; You see me and test my thoughts about You." Jeremiah 12:3. Either way, I am getting back onto my axis.
I feel on the verge of something. Something that I cannot put my finger on. I just know that it is going to be utterly life changing. All it took was Corey, my leader and my friend, to speak it out loud to me; telling me to go. Just go. Is this making any sense? I feel everywhere.
It has been such a season of transoformation for so many of us, and I don't know if it is going to come to an end anytime soon. I think our 'Christian clocks' are tired of ticking; God is ready to set off our alarms. I can say, though, that I am so happy I will not be the only one waking up to the things God is preparing. I am surrounded by an amazing community that has been put into place by God, and that alone gives me such a peace. With this peace now, I will continue to keep persevering. It really is time for me to get up and go.
"You need to go." he says, enunciating the go. And that is that.
It was said with such intensity across the table at Steak 'n' Shake. I took a sip of my water, allowed the words to sink in and then he went into further explanation. Corey kept saying that I need to figure out that God isn't found in a podcast or a book... that God is doing things in people, and particularly those found outside the walls and seas that America is surrounded by. Just moments and conversations before, I had been talking about this exact same thing with the kids in my car; how I was ready to go on a missions trip, but I just did not know where yet. Then to hear Corey confirming that? I think God is ready to tell me something. Even in recent weeks I have been debating on where God wants me to go, what He wants me to do, how He wants me to act. Then with every question, came some kind of distraction... something that kept trying to through me off of my axis.
But that is how it happens. I find myself asking where God wants me to go, and here comes the enemy himself, attempting to unravel the things God is trying to put together. Or let's be honest here: "Yet You know me, O Lord; You see me and test my thoughts about You." Jeremiah 12:3. Either way, I am getting back onto my axis.
I feel on the verge of something. Something that I cannot put my finger on. I just know that it is going to be utterly life changing. All it took was Corey, my leader and my friend, to speak it out loud to me; telling me to go. Just go. Is this making any sense? I feel everywhere.
It has been such a season of transoformation for so many of us, and I don't know if it is going to come to an end anytime soon. I think our 'Christian clocks' are tired of ticking; God is ready to set off our alarms. I can say, though, that I am so happy I will not be the only one waking up to the things God is preparing. I am surrounded by an amazing community that has been put into place by God, and that alone gives me such a peace. With this peace now, I will continue to keep persevering. It really is time for me to get up and go.
Friday, June 25, 2010
June 15, 2010
It has been since the 15th day of June since you decided you would leave. I haven't been able to fill the void in my heart that only a brother can fill. My efforts in trying to reattach the blood line that we were both born into seem futile; you cut it on a consistent and daily basis. I'm fully aware that you want your line with your Creator cut, too... and I think that is what hurts most. You grew up forming that relationship yourself. Molding and growing into the man that God has wanted you to become; fighting the battles that raged inside, all with God standing by your side. Who would have thought you would turn on the truth that if everyone is against you, God is for you? I don't understand and I can't understand.
What I do know is that you are forever my brother and forever I will love you. I may not agree with your decisions, but I hope your consequences do not drag you into the crevices that possibly await at the end of this crooked path. I feel like you know this already, but I also feel like you were sinking for a long time... and it went so unrecognized. Because you were so closed in and threw away the key for anyone to get in, how could we have known? I wish I had gone searching for the key. I wish that my senses were intact and my eyes had been more open. I apologize now, and I hope that it isn't too late.
More than anything, I pray that God is going to use these rebellious decisions in your story with Him. There is this wonderful artist who is ready to create a masterpiece, but he needs you to come back to Him first. He's a jealous God, and He will be persistent in getting you back. He will chase you down to the end of the rope. You were His first.
Please don't give up the good fight, little brother. Please come home, but most of all... please listen when God is trying to break through the darkness. I love you so much.
What I do know is that you are forever my brother and forever I will love you. I may not agree with your decisions, but I hope your consequences do not drag you into the crevices that possibly await at the end of this crooked path. I feel like you know this already, but I also feel like you were sinking for a long time... and it went so unrecognized. Because you were so closed in and threw away the key for anyone to get in, how could we have known? I wish I had gone searching for the key. I wish that my senses were intact and my eyes had been more open. I apologize now, and I hope that it isn't too late.
More than anything, I pray that God is going to use these rebellious decisions in your story with Him. There is this wonderful artist who is ready to create a masterpiece, but he needs you to come back to Him first. He's a jealous God, and He will be persistent in getting you back. He will chase you down to the end of the rope. You were His first.
Please don't give up the good fight, little brother. Please come home, but most of all... please listen when God is trying to break through the darkness. I love you so much.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Why we "Like".
Why we like the "Like" buttons that list incredibly annoying things on Facebook should be an obvious one. But it may or may not be something that is buried in our subconscious. It is only awakened when we have someone to shake it from the depths of its sleep. I am here to shake it. It will be a small shake, because, like I said, it is an obvious one.
My opinion on the matter is we like the "Like" buttons that list incredibly annoying things (e.g. "I peed my pants in third grade and my life has never been the same") because there is something relational about this. When we see these certain quotes, certain topics or things that really have no meaning, we feel a tug from our inner gizzards. Now, I'm not quite sure of the location of these gizzards, but I am pretty sure it ignites our subconscious. Take for instance one of the two things I actually like - "I talk/sing to my plants" - slightly embarrassing, but true. Why do I choose to share this with Facebook? Because I can and because it gives me pleasure to know that I am not the only one out there that is a lunatic.
That is it! We are reassured we are not the only ones that feel "this way". Whether it is through those cheesy/inappropriate quotes (probably something from Twilight or Superbad) or things that we thought we do all on our own ("Walking around in your underwear") it is quite comforting to not be alone in those awkward habits, and for them to be revealed via Facebook - even better! We are set free from our totally strange ways and we don't even care. Facebook has become the open door to every good or bad habit we have, whether or not we are annoying the crap out of our friends.Did I ever mention that I used to have stinky feet? And when I say used to, I mean that my little, stinky problem disappeared. Kaput. Done. Over with. I hope you can relate. If so, we should totally make a group on Facebook.
Or... not.
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