Day 50: Favor

I suspect this will be my last post of the year, so we're going to make this count.

I switched churches mid-September not so much because I was out church-shopping, but because a need arose within the community of God (which I stress above individual churches) and I was asked and able to fulfill it. Oddly enough, the new church was actually in the process of moving to a new building down the street, a $1.2M renovation of an Amish Furniture Store. The final price tag that the church actually paid through special offerings was only like $300,000 because individuals stepped up and paid for individual things on the direction of God, we received awesome deals that were mind blowingly low (like 19,000 instead of 70,000+) and there was just this amazing progress that the whole project proceeded with. Everything was paid for, no loans in four months which is about how long it took to renovate. The pastor attributed it to Favor. By responding to the Will of God, he said, God placed immense favor over the Church and things were allowed to happen, and the Pastor recognized it solely as the Provision of God. This is Biblical.

I thought it was pretty sweet.

I would now like to draw your attention to Day 21: Fatigued. You see, I said I was "retiring" from the music industry. I told you why I started. Never why I was quitting. I was quitting because I feel more called to do pastoring/preaching/speaking/counseling (whatever you want to call the Conglomerate of that. I shall refer to it as conglomerate A) than I did music and writing and acting because I did not have the same passion that I had for Conglomerate A. So I gave up on it. I was gonna finish the final two albums, and that was going to be it. Then I switched churches to where almost everyone on the worship team is working on or has produced at least one album in their lifetime, and more than just a garageband album. Like me. (Ouch. May my pride never recover!)

Naturally, they saw me, someone of less talent than they thought but more talent than some. So naturally, I suppose, I fielded an offer to assist a band. . . erm. . . artist on an album. This person has passion. The passion that is required for but does not guarantee success. And they've asked me to assist on a kids worship album as well as theirs, but to do complete the kids worship album first.

So basically I'm coming out of retirement to do all the things an artist would ever want to do. Write and record an album. The beauty of it all is that I won't have to worry about contracts and all that jazz because it's not my band. I'm getting the fun stuff without the paperwork.

Favor?

Similarly, the whole publishing gig has worked out to where it'd be beneficial to actually publish my own material. I'll produce enough randomly over the course of the time on the contracts I'm requiring all the other authors to do, and I wanted four decent authors to start with. I only knew three. And even in the wake of being quit on, the sort of things I need to do to really successfully pull this off are being given to me. A website that's professionally built in flash? Built and maintained for free exactly how I want it. A photoshoot? Done, free. All three writers I asked? Absolutely they're interested. I even had two others ask me about publication contact me. It's kinda crazy, but I had a thought flash through my head.

Favor.

Could my renaissance and pursuit of God be the beginning of me using the gifts I have for the right reasons in such a way that really brings glory to Him?

Day 49: Mistaken

Happy Christmas world.

No, I do not say merry Christmas. Why, you ask? Because Happy and Merry mean the same exact thing, to a different degree. I could also say have a gay Christmas, because gay does mean happy, but because it MIGHT be taken homosexually because somebody would be mistaken and I just don't wanna have to deal with that. . .


Happy Christmas.

Day 48: Narakhakash

I'll keep this simple because you need to be enjoying Christmas with your family like a normal person.

Narakhakash: That which does not require one to settle to obtain.

Alternate Definition: What I am yet searching for.

Day 47: All Things Come and Go (Pt. Two)

I founded the writers club over at Podunk High School my senior year because I had a friend. This friend, who like me was a writer, said "Hey we should start a writer's club. I'm sure there are more writers in this place than just us." But then he said he wasnt good at official documents, and in the end, I put in all the work to found it, and then was Club President for the first year with the official title of "Ünther Fürher" (I think I spelled that correctly. I did Spanish, not German.) He on the other hand rarely showed up for meetings, and eventually it got to the point that people began asking why I was even bothering to use the title co-founder.

That was Senior year.

Something like two weeks ago, he was telling me of this awesome idea he had of starting a e-publishing company and I had a ton of ideas so I began sharing ideas and eventually he was like "Wow, this could really work. Wanna give it a shot?" I was like "Sure, why not!" (Feel free to laugh once you see where this is going. And at any point from there on out.) So we began cranking out details and such and details, had a face to face meeting even to work on the website etc. and so everything was looking good. Good enough to contact possible writers. So after I got 4 authors to verbally commit to publishing through the site (Who wouldnt?) Actually this is so good, I'm gonna get out of parentheses and go to a new paragraph.

DUN DUN DUUN!

Who wouldn't? First off, you get the title of PUBLISHED AUTHOR. There's no paper costs, you get to use anything you write, including those little short stories and poetry and chapter novels etc and you get a 80% CUT out of all sales of your works. It's a deal made in heaven.

So anywho back to what I was saying. I got 4 writers to verbally commit, and then one night, oh about three nights, maybe four nights ago, he goes "Oh I found this really cool place to make money online. I'm gonna do that instead of this publishing house, but I'll come back once I'm successful there."

If you haven't laughed by now, I don't know what to tell you.

This blog is not to bash the kid. There may actually be greener grass where he's going, and since there was a first time for this to be the second time, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

So now I'm stuck with four writers, some details, no way to build a website on my own, and a bunch of other things I'll have to do that I wasn't expecting to do. On the bright side, I now get to unleash my full creativity on the project. And that includes the name.

Get ready for some awesomeness.

Are you ready?

Are you really ready?

Ok I'll stop the childishness.

Silvan Glo Publishing House

I likey =]. ANYWHO. Moving right along. I have an April 1 launch date set, completely disregarding April Fools Day because HA! I dont' need your April Fools. It's not a joke. It's going up. THIS WILL HAPPEN.

If I don't run myself into the ground being an assistant manager at Whataburger (50 hours a week) doing school (12 hours a week because I completely disregard out of class work and therefore only attend class) doing church worship band (no set hours on that actually) doing the record deal I got (no set hours thankfully) and everything else that pops up on my plate. I would mention family and girlfriend, but those go without saying, or really should.

Adios sleep.

And I got prayed for the other day in between services. Pastor Richie was in the green room with us talking about the service and some things that were coming up and randomly he asked me to stand because he had something that he felt he needed to pray over me (Sidenote: He planned to do it in front of the congregation during the first service. THANKFULLY that didn't happen). Hot destiny and Discernment. Hot destiny he didn't really understand fully, oscillating between a time of trials (oh joy) and a baptism of the Spirit (oh joy!) or even both. Discernment was on friendships. People are brought into your life, but at some point, some people have to leave; I shouldn't be afraid to let go, or so the word went. It reminded me of a Gregor Samsa lyric off the Rest album - "All things come and go but we won't break".

Praying for more clarity, but June may have been good practice. And those are words I don't want to say. Not here. Not now.

All things come and go, but I won't break.

Day 46: All Things Come and Go (Pt. One)

Take an hour, and write her.

That was the challenge I set to myself, because being the crazy (young) coot I am, I want to know exactly what part of the clock is turning here. What is the foundation for the attraction to my. . . THE caffeinated orphan? Is it the challenge (or rather lack thereof) of gaining the interest of someone who describes themselves as “eternally single”? Is it the subconscious attraction to someone in an embattled household that mildly imitates my own mother’s predicament, therein making Aaron Weiss’ “Nice and Blue Pt. Two” a factual lyric when he sings “I’m still waiting to meet a girl like my mom who’s closer to my age”? Is it the subconscious attraction that I vehemently deny, the attraction to the larger cup sizes? Is it the Marusian eyes, which is a reminder of the Singer, who obviously is no longer an option? Is it because she’s a Lord of the Rings/Beretta M-9/all-these-other-things-I-like freak? Is it the mystery, the ease? Is it because she made the first move?

I honestly have no idea. That’s what this challenge is about.

And so we begin.



One step. Another.
One foot in front of the other.
Forgive the son the sins of the mother.
One step. Another.

Brown brick.
A black tick.
Take your pick.
Brown brick.

Never look back
Never see black
Your life is no longer cracked
Never look back

I’ve spent years coming up with simple rimes, but in the end it’s always the same. I’m stuck on the brown brick road that leads to nowhere. Sure, every once in a while some bluebird will fly by and tell me the wonders that I’ll see at the end, the promises of eternal companionship, eternal glory, the promise of living in a King’s house knowing that the King can never be overthrown. And then the bluebird flies off. And I’m still stuck on the brown brick road.

It’s a land of black ticks and grey skies and blisters and disease and fat gluttons and skinny druggies and curvy porn stars and flat prostitutes and wealthy thieves and poor criminals and lying religions and unfounded atheism and single moms with twenty kids and married couples with barren wombs and screams and cries and anguish and suffering and black ticks and grey skies and a single brown brick road. The bluebirds always fly through the city, evading the hunters shots as long as they can while spouting the Promise: what the brown brick road really leads to.

Many have taken the brown brick road, and many have found themselves back. Whether its because they just came back because they didn’t want to leave, whether they were too weak, if they took the many smooth brown asphalt roads, if they couldnt take the pain of the blisters and bricks. There were many more who took the brown brick road, but they just went so slow, they had no chance of ever getting there. That was part of the Promise. “The few! The few! The few who make it!” shouted the bluebirds. And then they’d fly into the city, and then there were no more bluebirds until the next one came through.

(Yeah this is going to be more than an hour. Goody.)

And yet there were still brown bricks and bluebirds and me and no one else.

I was enthralled with the eternity, the whole of it, that the bluebirds were yelling at me. Above all else though, I was more interested in one small piece of the Promise. “Companion! Companion! There is a companion!” shouted the bluebirds. “Where? I’m alone, bluebird! I’m alone!” “Ahead! Ahead! She’s ahead!” shouted the bluebirds, and then they were gone. Companion! Part of my eternity was here on this dull brittle wasteland, full of brown bricks and red blisters and dusty tears and a dull glittering hope.

But where was this companion? How would I know her? Would she be dressed in a similar manner? Would she be an old friend from the land of not-haves and have-nots? Would she speak with a funny accent that just tickles me? How would I know her? But the bluebirds never answered me. “Companion! Companion! She’s ahead!” was all they said before they flew on to meet their certain doom. If only they knew what was behind, and I knew what was ahead.

One step. Another.
Brown brick black tick.
Take your pick.
One step. Another.

Forgive the son. . .
How did that go, mother?

The days pass, the rimes come and go, and I’m still alone. No companions. No cities. No kings. Bluebirds, unfulfilled promises, ugly brown bricks, and now recently the distant sight of other walkers leaving the brown brick road. Lots of smooth asphalt roads, each slightly more tempting than the last. Every time I move, I always hear the Promise again. “Remember! Remember! Remember the eternity!” And the brown brick road grew shorter. If the bluebirds are to be believed.

4380 steps.
The untold breaths.
Oh mother mother
4389 steps


“The eternity
The glory
The love! The love we’re capable of!”

A bluebird! Here! On the path! Not. . . steps in front of me there waddled a blue bird, a walker. I hobbled forward faster, desperate to catch up with it. Just maybe, maybe if it can’t fly, then it’s misfortune will be my fortune, the key to my answers. The bird teasingly glanced my way as I approached, and then kept waddling forward. Patiently.

Patiently? This bird has seen the glories of the Promise! It’s lived to fly and return! If the Promise is indeed true, then why does it Waddle?! It should be running, flying, doing whatever it can to reach the. . .
Or is that what I’m supposed to be doing?

“Curiosity! Curiosity! You are curious.”
“Is it true? The Promise? Could it be true?”
“Silliness! Silliness! You are full of silliness.”
“Where’s my companion?”
“Companion! Companion! She’s ahead.”
I scanned the horizon. “But I don’t see her.”
“Ahead! Ahead! She’s ahead!”
“I don’t see her, you mad bird!”
“Your eyes! Your eyes! Your eyes deceive you!”
“If I can’t trust my eyes, how will I ever find my way?
“The few! The few! The few who make it!”

I left him on the road and continued ahead of that scatterbrained bluebird. I spent two thousand paces wanting to turn back. The bluebirds, the heralds of the Promise, were a bunch of scatterbrained fouls, you couldn’t trust them. I spent hours staring at the smooth asphalts, wishing they would take me home. I stood still, and bluebird after bluebird circled me with the Promise and then flew on. One I’d never seen before waddled past me. “Your eyes! Your eyes! Your eyes deceive you!”

It made me wonder, it did, that waddling bluebird, but for the life of all the ticks attached to me, I couldn’t figure out what he meant, or what the remedy would be, were there one. I guess that was an unspoken part of the Promise. I’m a bluebird, I fly towards death to talk about life, and nothing I’ll ever say about life will make sense, but have no fear. If you go down the brown brick road and die the death of heat, blisters, and isolation, you’ll have died on the path to El Dorado.

If I am indeed trustworthy.

That wasn’t a question anymore. I decided to leave, I embarked on this journey a long time ago because some small part of me believed the birds, so there is no question any longer. It died beneath my feet when I left. The bluebirds are trustworthy; and I will die on the path to El Dorado, alone.
This isn’t comforting. At all.

Brown bricks brown ticks brown sand brown asphalt
Brown bricks brown ticks brown sand brown asphalt
Brown bricks brown ticks red birds brown asphalt
Brown bricks brown ticks brown sand red birds

Redbird?

There it was! It buzzed my ear with the tip of it’s wing and then it was gone, up in the air and far out of my reach. My heart sank slightly (I found it strange to see a redbird when now that I think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a red bird) but it jumped twice as high as it fell when I saw the bird coming back for another swoop. Maybe he has the answers! But he swooped on past. I almost turned back to watch it fly but my brain triggered something.

Never look back
Never see black
Your life is more than a pack
Never look back.

The cool thing about that redbird was he was. . . interesting for lack of a better word. The bluebirds would just glide and never flap their wings and it was a never ending cycle of gliding and gliding and gliding (until they were shot down of course, where it wasn’t so much of gliding than dying and falling and nothing else). But the redbird! Loops, dives, rolls, flapping. It was a glorious display to watch. I was jealous, though this jealousy wasn’t the same as what I felt for the bluebirds. I was jealous of the bluebirds for their knowledge; they’d seen the Kingdom with their eyes and they certainly knew more than I. But the redbird! I was jealous for the freedom. It was a taste that I hungered for but couldn’t remember. The freedom to fly where one was wont to fly. To glide to where one was wont to glide. To land on my shoulder. . . Land?

“There.” It spoke!
“There?”
“There.”
“Redbird, stay! I’m lonely, so very lonely.”
 “Here.”
“Here? I don’t see her redbird!”
It smiled at me. “Here.”
Birds were confusing. “Where is here? She’s not here, so obviously here isn’t here. “
“Here.”
“You’re a mad bird like the bluebirds. I suppose you know the Promise as well.”
 “Promise.”
“You don’t say much do you?”
“Truth!”
“So you do believe the Promise. There’s a small clue. What do you do?”
“Fly.”
“I never would’ve guessed! Fly indeed.”
“Follow.” It lifted from my shoulder, forward on the brown brick road.
“If you say so. At least you lead me, and hopefully to here because I’m still rather lonely.”

“Here.”

It flew before me for some time, and some amount of time passed. I don’t know how to keep track of these days, so I’ll just say that fourteen thought-hours passed. That sounds rather official. It flies a little slower than I’m used to walking, but what’s going a little slower when eternity is at the end?

Day 45: Grandma got run over by a reindeer for not eating enough chicken

There are two places I've never expected to do a concert. The first is Glastonbury, the largest green-field festival in the world to the tune of 177,000 souls. The second is Chik-Fil-A. I can now cross one of those off my list, and it's not Glastonbury.

So I was part of a group that played what was probably supposed to be a Christmas Carol only thing, but we threw in a few others, most notably "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer" and "Lean On Me". We threw in both as jokes because we had the music for it, and we figured they'd draw a laugh. "Grandma" got no laughs other than the joke that we sang it because she wasn't there to defend herself, in which case the only person who laughed was the old man in the back corner whose wife had ironically just gone to the restroom. "Lean On Me" didn't get any laughs, but I think more people sang along with us on that one than "Rudolph" which I think is pretty dang sad for a Christmas Concert.


14-16 I can anticipate the response that is coming: "I know that all God's commands are spiritual, but I'm not. Isn't this also your experience?" Yes. I'm full of myself—after all, I've spent a long time in sin's prison. What I don't understand about myself is that I decide one way, but then I act another, doing things I absolutely despise. So if I can't be trusted to figure out what is best for myself and then do it, it becomes obvious that God's command is necessary.

17-20 But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time.

21-23 It happens so regularly that it's predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God's commands, but it's pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge.

24 I've tried everything and nothing helps. I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn't that the real question?

I thought about typing something out, but what more is there to be said?

Day 44: "I do not (yet) claim to love you."

Once again I live vicariously through myself.

I feel incredibly guilty when good friends of mine use the phrase "I love you" (Which we will refer to as phrase A in this blog, since I don't want to keep typing it out, and phrase A makes it sound like there's a phrase B so you're more likely to keep reading)and I don't feel like I can say it back. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I hate/dislike/anything-else-like-that. . . them (why does that sentence feel so weird), but at the same time I've been guilty of overusing the L-word, so now I suppose I tend to err on the side of underusing it for fear of continuing the bad habit of overuse. And that erring is tested every time phrase A is used, because I feel dang guilty. It's a moment where a thousand thoughts fly through your head and all of the are screaming that infestant rap song "You're a jerk" (DISCLAIMER: I don't know if thats actually a rap song, but one of the many steroid nuts at school would sing it in a high pitched voice over and over and over and over and. . . you get the point. And no, I don't think infestant is a word either).

Scenario A: Friend A and I
PHRASE A USAGE!!!
Outcome: Guilty

Scenario B: Girlfriend ONLY and I
PHRASE A USAGE!!!
Outcome: Immobility, Speechless, and Guilty

Oh that my mind would slow down!


Phrase B? It worked.

Day 43: The Debts of Life Pt. 3 - Convictions

Conviction - The act of convincing, or compelling one to admit the truth of a charge; the act of convincing of sin or sinfulness; the sate of being convinced or convicted by conscience; the state of being sensible of guilt; as, the convictions of a sinner may be temporary, or lasting and efficacious. By conviction, a sinner is brought to repentance. Men often sin against the conviction of their own consciences.

So I had the night off for the most part tonight, but lately I've been convicted pretty heavily lately. Hence the now three part blog series in the space of three nights. Convicted of not spending enough time with my family. Convicted of lying to my parents. Convicted of being generally apathetic (see Pt. 1 for definition of apathy).

Convicted of being a resentful jerk.

Ok so maybe the whole February-June stretch wasn't exactly the best times of my life. It's not the Tale of Two Cities where it was the ultimate paradoxical paragraph that somehow opens up this classic when people can't even makes heads and tales of the opening sentence that borders on run-on status and. . . it was just the worst of times. And that's not entirely because it was just a horrible depressing stretch, but because it was the (peak?) of God-lessness. Like I'll say a million times from here on out if I haven't said it already, I'm not proud of anything that went on there. So having gone through extreme thought regarding everything that went on, analysis that will help me do the right from here on out (hypothetically anyways), I did what any self-righteous dumbhead would do - I harbored resentment.

Well, that's not entirely true. I still do. In an effort to kinda erase that as much as I can, I've completely (and happily, I confess) ignored Jace because bringing up the past in that way was a bit too close to home than me using it as a testimonial weapon to bring people to Christ (which so far to my knowledge has been ineffective anyways). So if she contacts me, it's like a plague-ridden leprous heretical illegal Muslim immigrant asked me to pop a pimple on their back - it ain't happening hun. I suffer through it, being short and sour and being in an all around negative mood. And it's even worse now with Kate around, because let's face it. I have a chance to do things right with this girl; I don't want to face the time of life where I made all the wrong decisions. It's like trying to win a basketball game when everyone is yelling "YOU BRICKED THE LAST SHOT! DONT SHOOT! PASS! PASS! PASS! PASS! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". And by everyone I mean the coach, your teammates, the announcer, your girlfriend, the angels that even care about basketball. . . the other team even.

Resentment. One of the many things I need to work on.

Day 42: The Debts of Life, Pt. 2

It's 11:55 PM, so I'm starting a little bit early tonight.

Do you know where your mind is?

It's debatable whether or not I should really continue so soon, but we had an awesome worship service this morning, two of them actually, and both were all service worship services, which was completely refreshing. And then I got 8 hours of work where I got into with my manager right off the bat but as a whole the day was a success. I survived.

That makes it a success. [The favorable or prosperous termination of any thing attempted; a termination which answers the purpose intended; properly in a good sense, but often in a bad sense.]

The timing on this is amazing. I am off for tomorrow, which gives me a chance to go to Celebrate Recovery for the first time in ages. It really was an awesome ministry and it's one of the things that helped me get on my feet everything-not-physically-ally when I got back in May. Loved it. Why did I quit going? I had work on Monday nights for a long time. And now I don't for one week. What a blessing this is.

Success #2 in a lot of ways, even though the success isn't mine.

I hate that I'm writing this on a Sunday, because this is the day when everything is perfect. It's the 6 12.5/25 that's the rest of the week that stinks. So why write now?

Here's the skinny. It's a mindset change if nothing else. Mindset, priorities, that sorta thing. For the next week I'm going to awake at 7:15 to have a personal Bible study. I have no idea where I'll start, but I'll go somewhere. It's not like you can go wrong in the Bible - it IS entirely good after all. I'm going to try and keep that up because in all reality, (oh gosh, I didn't see this one coming. . . but how true) "relationships are about growing together", and I've ignored G-d on that level for far too long.

That must change. I can't ignore it.

Day 41: The Debts of Life

"You'd only make the softest sound,
like sugar pouring into tea.
Darling let your Self pour down
and dissolve into the Love
who revealed Himself there quietly to me...

(Jesus have mercy on our souls)"

-Aaron Weiss

So its 12:19 AM. At 7AM, I will awaken to my phone chirping violently at me to get up, and I'll be strumming a guitar all morning and working all evening. It's Sunday, and it's both the best and worst mornings of the week.

The best for obvious reasons. It's the one day that I spend worshipping God for more than the time I can find during the week to play guitar and do it on my own, and it's a dip in the pool of Love. A refreshing of ideas and motivations. Sunday mornings revitalize me like no other time during the week. So Sunday mornings are the best of times...

... and they are the worst of times. It's then I realize I'm an idiot 6 1/2 days a week. For half a day, I'm where I need to be, and for 6 50/100 days I've regressed slightly a little past where I need to be. No, that's too nice. I'm way out of line.

This will be interesting.

True Christianity, what you read in the Bible no holds barred is a 24-7 commitment of action, thought, motivation, and the oft-said and seemingly never followed "dying unto yourself." Anything less is lukewarm, and it would be better if there was no commitment at all, which is scriptural. The problem is, I'm content with lukewarm. I see lukewarm, I've lived lukewarm and it's gotten me nowhere. Yet I continue to live a lukewarm because it's all I know, or all I've known, save for a small bright spot earlier this year, post-everything that I gave away to the wrong things at the wrong time for the wrong reasons, but that dimmed out and it's like. . . I'm an idiot. I know it. But it's hard to change.

Why change? I have everything I want. Money, a band, good grades, a girl, a clean slate, a chance to do things right, and all the time I have is now taken up. I'm finally actually BUSY, and its nice. I dont spend all my time sitting around accomplishing nothing; I'm actually doing something, and my work ethic that is so bent on accomplishing things loves it. I'm finally finishing what I start. To change from lukewarm to on fire, I'd have to change several things, some easier than others. The money should be tithed with more frequency. The grades should be higher. The girl, things need to reset because although they aren't far, it's more than far enough. I've definitely done worse.

I'm a sleep deficit because there's too much stuff stuffed into my time. I think when I went down the list with my dad it went (God, were it really #1), family, work, school, church, girl. That 6 things, and combined they are huge massive time commitments. Now what my dad doesn't know is that God isn't in that mix and my schedule is still stuffed. I'm behind on sleep, but I can't fit anything more in without rearranging time portion allotments. I'm at a sleep deficit because I'm a lukewarm idiot. And while this blog isn't helping the sleep cause, it certainly is helping in healing.

what am I on my own?

I picked that as a blog title because in a good moment of self reflection, I realized I am nothing without God. A nice cute moment of brilliance in the muddy puddle that is my life. For years my excuses have been "I have no idea what God wants me to do", and "Oh I'm a Christian doing God's will." and to quote Ke$ha (because the trashiness is equal to it), it was just "talking about blah blah blah." [Certainly never thought I'd quote Ke$ha in a post, much less one like this]. These I cannot use anymore. I do know what I am called to do, I certainly know I am not doing the will of God. I know where I am, and where I need to go, and I am painfully aware of how vastly apart these two lie.
I lack the possession of an active will. Apathy.

And because we can't have a blog post without going to webster, so we could find the definitions for closure, hasty and such, we're going to back for apathy.

Apathy: Want of feeling; an utter privation of passion, or insensibility to pain; applied either to the body or the mind. As applied to the mind, it is stoicism, a calmness of mind incapable of being ruffled by pleasure, pain or passion. In the first ages of the church, the christians adopted the term to express a contempt of earthly concerns.
Quietism is apathy disguised under the appearance of devotion. (Websters 1828)
My definition: The bullet that went through my head along time ago and left me with nothing but the memories of that which was.

It's now 1:11AM. I feel like I have so much more to say, but to keep myself somewhat sane, I'll head to bed. Do not worry, I have a feeling there will be a part two.

And I sure hope it's in a more positive state of mind. . . or better yet, a healed state of mind. Not healING. healED.

And while I want to quote song lyrics here, I'll instead live vicariously through myself and quote myself:

Guide my fingers. They're the only thing moving forward.

Day 40: Scatterbrained

So I've been sick alot lately, and while most people blog more while sick, I just watched football. Funny story though. I missed my classes on Thursday due to sickness, and then when I went to go to Philosophy on Tuesday (my last class of the day) there was no one there. So I checked my email, where I had a notification that due to the genetic disease that the professor had come down with and talked to the class about last week, we were moving our lecture class online to a self paced thing.

Seriously.

WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON? SINCE WHEN DO PROFESSORS COME DOWN WITH RARE GENETIC DISEASES THAT KEEP THEM FROM BEING ABLE TO TEACH PROPERLY? I've never heard of fictional stories where that's happened. It's unreal.

So beyond philosophy, what else is new?

I have a hard time writing now. I have little interest, little time to devote to it, and without being able to attend writers club meetings regularly means I really have nothing to do with my writing anyways, so it's kinda a "Eh. . ." thing. I hate not having the time for it, but at the same time, I'm beginning to wonder, do I really miss it?

EVANGEL MONIES V BEN GATHRIGHT ROUND 3!


So I get this letter saying "Hey, we miss you (and your pocketbook). We'll give you a discount if you wanna come back!!!!" Heck yeah, I'd like to go back. I hate commuting, and I hate living at home. It feels like high school all over again. Now I know I was blessed with only two years of high school, but GET ME OUT OF HERE! So I called Evangel. Evangel was like, heck yeah we missed you, we want you back etc etc etc Oh wait. You know what Ben, you had a great GPA for your Fall 09 Semester, posting the 3.64, but that Spring '10 1.6 was a bit worrisome. We don't want to put our monies behind you.


EVANGEL MONIES TKO'S BEN GATHRIGHT FTW!

I'm two months into the "Sampson experiment".

I'm 6 months into my employment with Whataburger this stint.

And I have no idea whats going on.

Day 39: It's Gone

My mother once told me that the dreams of believers are God-given; perfect. That the dreams you had helped you live life. I've always wanted to believe her; I really have. For the longest time, God was supposed to give me the things I wanted. Afterall, there is that verse that says "I will give you the desires of your heart." - but where were my desires? Where were the things that I desperately wanted? My dreams. "God works in mysterious ways" I suppose.

But there comes a point when thoughts are challenged. Ideas are tested. And you see either how right or wrong you were. Scary moments. The moment of truth, as some people would say. They're moments that when you're older, you look back on and. . . and you smile knowingly. Those moments are key. Those moments are turning points. Those moments make you who you are. Those days, those nights, those glances, are YOU.

God gave me one of those moments. It was night that I still don't believe I slept, because I had this sense that the reality I was experiencing wasn't real. I remember the ceiling I was staring at, and then I was on an empty stage. THe cool moving air, the pregnant silence, the aged wooden floor, soft lighting, and the intense focus of a house, building. Building for a climax. Their nights, our nights, our lives had been building to this point - a point where the essence is ripe for the picking.

I walked out into the light as a single violin filled the air with a slow melody. No lines came to mind, so I let the violin play undisturbed. Why speak? It was a moment where words were ruinous, gasps were ruinous, stray thoughts were ruinous. A moment, fragile, for the music to say all that I couldn't say; do all that I couldn't do.

A lighter sound, a cleansing sound joined the violin; a single note that morphed into another and then, after being repeated I was able to make out. "Sono mie care e lui, e il mio" - I felt the gaze of the house shift focus, somewhere to my left, behind me. I slowly moved my head and I. . .

I don't know what I felt; it overwhelmed me completely. I do know what I saw, and it is likely a sight that I'll never see again. She stood there. Barefoot. Yellow rose in her hair. Blue silk dress, flowing. Golden band. She was the source of the cleansing tune. She was the source of the beauty.

We took one step towards each other. Another. Another. Another. We locked in an embrace. I heard a whisper on my neck, "I am my beloved's, and he is mine. . . he is mine." This was it! The climax! Overwhelmingly everything I'd ever wanted, here in my arms. All the disappointments, the battles lost, the hoops I'd jumped through only to fall flat on my face meant nothing. There was no me and and my struggles, there was only --

I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. Not like heartbreak, but something else. I felt my shirt begin to grow warm and stick to my body. My arms went cold; my embrace loosened. "No! Not like this!" I was screaming that in my head, "Not like this!", but I didn't utter a sound. I fell back, like a loose sack of flesh. She knelt over me and put a blood-covered hand to my lips "Shh.. it'll be ok. It'll be ok." A tear slipped, caught the light, and fell onto my cheek.

I cried in the dark cold comfort that the (dream) was over, but the tear, the many tears! remain. It's so true though. I may not blame her for trying to kill my love. I can point to no single or multiple wrongdoings that she has transgressed against me, not one. Yet, I blamed her. I blame her.

Given the chance, she shut me down. So, I guess after two and a half years, and everything I've been through, I can finally say that my mom was right. Dreams are God-given. A forewarning.

Perfect.

Day 38: Hasty

Hasty: 1. Eager precipitate; rash
(Websters 1828)
My definition: Me

Day 36-That-Was-Really-37 should've been posted today. It really should've, but I was hasty and posted it too soon because my mind had lept to conclusions. Dangerous. Unfortunately it is a decent sample of the way my brain works. I am hasty. I do things pre-emptively when they should probably done more post-emptively. I jump to conclusions so often that may be what has given me major knee issues. If I make a decision, I'm oft so resolute in that decision that I won't listen to reason. That's not really an issue were I the kind of guy that thought fully through his decisions. I seem to have this thought that I can get to what is the "Best" option quicker than everyone else because everyone thinks I'm smarter than they. Obviously we're all mistaken. This isn't the bad part; it's that I can't seem to fix it when I got out THERE (into the "real" world) and I just keep reverting to my old habits, which were pre-taking-Christianity-seriously and therefore need to be purged.

And over here, exhibit B.
I had a meeting with the "youth" (18-29) pastors at my church, I guess as kinda a lets-see-how-we-can-fit-you-in-the-church-now-that-you're-committed-to-the-worship-team-and-can't-up-and-leave meeting and they were all impressed by the "depth" of my answers and yadda yadda this and blabba blabba that. I realized (scarily) that I do a really good job of letting people see the Ben-of-good-decisions, and notsomuch the Ben-of-bad-decisions or even the conglomerate of the two. I just want the Ben - good-ole-me to pop out. And that's annoying to me, if it isn't to anyone else. The truth is, I'm afraid of the truth. What am I supposed to tell people I meet? "Oh yes, I've done this and that and this, that and all those other things. I don't have the t-shirt for it, but you see this gray hair? Oh and by the way these things I've done have all been recent. See I went on a wild streak back in the Spring and then in May I (re?)discovered God and that's all past. Your church is about redemption right?"The same goes for people I talk to, though there are some things that I don't have as much of a hard time admitting. Others. . .

Yeesh.

I've said all this to say,
I feel like an idiot and that I should apologize about posting 36/37 too early, but in light of everything, I won't. I'm not sure I'm ready.
I feel like a fake, but I have no earthly clue how to fix it, nor how to muster the courage to ask Him.
I am hasty, and I am so many other things I thought were gone but I'm apparently the best/worst host as I'll open the door for anyone.

Forgive me. Help Me. And I don't see a turtle nearing the finish line.


. no they'll never take the good years
. God i wish i would've learned

Day 36: Technically we're at 37

Ok yeah the title sucks. I get that. Anywho.

Closure: (1) the permanent ending of a business or activity; (4) Conclusion.
My definition: The end of a long struggle. The lifting of a burden.

It's amazing. There's nothing quite like a definitive answer. A conclusion. That's in some ways the greatest part of Lord of the Rings (when you read it and don't take the easy way out and watch the movies): Yes, it's a long book. Yes, sometimes it drags. But as it comes to its conclusion, and it's just this beautiful ending in so many ways, because Frodo receives what Healing there is in the West, and the entire world is healing, and everything is just perfect. It's a closure to everything tumultuous that happens in the books. It's a peaceful ending. That's one of the beauties of death. That was one of the beauties of my prolonged silence.

I am convinced that happiness is contentment. Being satisfied with where you are, not where you want to be. Wanting something else will just lead to a huge chain where you want something more and then something more and something more and it never ends. You have to be content with what you have.

And the truth of the matter is that even though I'm completely satisfied with God, I had a long-standing unclosed matter that needed closing. The matter is now closed, and it is such a sense of relief. That sounds strange, considering for 2 years plus she's been the girl of my dreams.{edit}. How is that relief? It's closure. Much needed closure. That's all that counts. There's a certain peace in closure, and I relish it.

And now I get to go live life and worry about the questions as they come.

Priceless

Ribbon: $1.94
Scissors: $2:17
Rose Bouquet: $16.94

Doing everything you want and being happy with it regardless of the outcome:


Priceless.

Day 35: Alive and Kicking and Breathing (and loving?)

So yes, I'm not dead, maimed, depressed, brokenhearted, busy, or avoiding you, my reader, but there is an exquisitely awesome reason to NOT post a blog, but it'll come soon enough. In the meantime while I wait to post that, I'll talk about a random thought that I had earlier, which was really just a few seconds ago, but "earlier" sounds cool and thoughtful and artsy-fartsy.

I suck at piano, let's get that out of the way. At the same time, I enjoy playing piano much in the same way that people who don't make a living out of singing love to sing. I'm sure my playing makes every piano prodigy cringe and go, "Is this guy a nutcase? That sounds HORRIBLE!". . . anywho. The feeling of the piano keys doesn't wow my mind.

I love art and good movies and awesome music, but they don't wow my ears or my senses in any measure that just makes me sit there and go, "Wow, that's really amazing/spellbinding/smashing/electric/jolly-good/yahoo-able/memorable." After two or three days it wears out, and that's just it. There's nothing left but the memory that I was happy at some point and time, and the awe will never be the same; it grows stale. Just about everything you name will be the same way save one: Love.

I probably need to just type love a thousand times a day to avoid overusing it in on this blog, but in all seriousness: Love and God are the two most powerful things I've encountered, in no particular order, because God IS Love. . .

. . . and love is real.

For those who care to know

I am not dead. I shall return soon after a while.

Day 33: A Wish Right Now

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?

I could really use a wish right now.

For the record, I don't like B.O.B's version, so if you want to hear my a decent version of the song go check out 95North on youtube. Anywho...

What. A. Week.

I can barely sleep. I can't focus on work or school. I'm giddy and hopeful and smiling and joyful and laughing and enjoying life. I'm enjoying being human I don't know. In some ways I feel like for the past coupla years or possibly even my entire life, I've just kinda been a fly on the wall, and now all of a sudden I've just come alive and it's an absolutely amazingly wonderful awesome smashing brilliant (et al) feeling! It's like, "wow!". Vicodin and Morphine don't do this. This is a purely new feeling that is just like.... Dang!

This is the power of love! This is what we've all preached about from pulpits as people go to hell in droves.

This whole idea of wooing has gotten me back to thinking of how a man should love a woman, and my conclusion was that a man should love a woman in the way that God loves us (which is actually Biblical. "Wives submit to your husbands and husbands, love your wives as Christ loves the Church.") This is the fun part. How exactly does God love? I mean, "God is love, and Love is real" (mewithoutYou) is one of the common rallying cries of modern evangelical Christianity. We say He's Love, but most people will also fail to give you a concrete definition of Love just between us humans, which pales in comparison to the way that God loves us. But how exactly does He love us?

Ted Dekker (bless his heart) devotes literally every book to focusing on a singular theme - God's love for man. In Black he summed it up probably the best (and certainly least cliche of them all) when he wrote the following.
"He chooses. He pursues. He rescues. He woos. He protects. He lavishes." (Kudos to him for using the word "lavish" before it became popular. . . again?) There is so so so so so so SO much more to how He loves, but for the purposes of my point, it will do.

To me, this is the perfect example of how a man should go after a girl.
Choose: Pick a girl and and chase her to the world's end (and not the cheesy "Let's float over the edge in our boat and hope that we land in the afterlife so we can rescue the hilariously funny Johnny Depp". I'm talking the real world's end, where there's nothing left alive). Wait... this step is choice. Choose. Since you have to choose and not select a list, you have to make that choice count. Pick a God-fearing beautiful woman that makes your toes tingle and your mouth curve into a smile. Choose.

Pursue: This is the world's end part. Pursue! Nobody can really tell you how to pursue, but you must pursue and chase and surprise and never give up. Never. I won't exactly say pursue through several refusals, since there has to be a line, but definitely give a dogged pursuit.

Rescue: We can't really rescue so much as He can, so. . . be creative.

Woo: Woo her! Be who you were meant to be. If you show up as Prince Charming, she won't necessarily fall in her plate, but you will still have to win the maiden's heart. So win the maiden's heart. Find some way to sweep her off her feet emotionally without doing it physically. Once again be creative.

Protect: Protecting nowadays is rather strange, and once again I think He has ya beat. Be creative.

Lavish: Be creative once again. No one can tell you how to lavish, but just think about He lavishes you.


I know how I would woo. I know how I'm going to be doing all of this, if it's directed towards the individual in mind. I don't know. It just comes naturally.

Day 32: I've gone completely off the deep end (and maybe thats a good thing)

So the writers club at FHS that I founded my senior year (co-founded really, but same difference) is meeting this Thursday, and I'm trying to prep stuff for the meeting. Whatever it is, it needs to be good because, well, I am the founder. So I got to thinking. Writing falls under literature, which falls under art in a sense. So as an art, it has to have a purpose. Picasso used his paintings as a way of telling of the Spanish revolution or something like that. Spanish Civil War maybe. Anywho, you use art, stories or poems especially, for a specific purpose. And I got to thinking. . .

What is my purpose for my art?

As a a guy who is trying to follow Christ and His commandments, this should be something of immense influence as to the purpose of my writings. It needs to be something that can and will glorify God and expand His glory.
As a guy who is currently single and waiting for God to orchestrate what it takes to pair me with a WOW girl, I'm going to do my best to woo. Woo I say! (and yes I am crazy enough to use the word woo, and probably strange enough to try and court a girl instead of getting in with this whole relationship stuff that everyone's entranced with nowadays)

I don't know if the girl in mind will ever read anything I write, but poetry of love, commence! May the woo be with me. It's been a while since I've had it.

Day 31: The Pains of our Past Friendship

There are two living persons that mean a lot to me. If my standing with these two is good, life's very easy to live in the way I need to. But without them, I find it hard to have hope enough to live for the Real World because I feel like I have nothing to support me to the end.

One is a girl. The one who got away. When we were near each other, she was a true ray of sunshine, happiness, joy, peace, and seemingly a reflection of who God really is here on earth. She's one of the few people I honestly believe is really focused on Him fully, and that doesn't change because life is busy, hard, or lonely. She is who she is, and there is no changing that. Wonderfully intelligent. Terrifyingly beautiful. I made a conscious decision to let go of her, but every time someone asks me about her or she happens to come up, I just go on this tangent, smiling and trying to relate how awesome she is, and every single time it happens, someone always comments, "Man, you must be really into her." Not, "you must have" which is past tense, but "you must be", present tense. I don't understand, but it's how it goes.

The pain is that it's been over a year now since I really talked to her, and I never can bring myself to talk to her or anything because, let's face it. This is college. Life moves on, and so is it really right to keep looking back at something that was and not focus on what shall be? Romance is an advancing idea, not backwards thinking. You grow in a relationship. Stendhal basically said that once you kill love, or love is stunted from growing at a certain point, then it's too late. It will never grow to fullness. I don't get it. I want to move on. I have faith that God will bring a real WOW girl that will knock me out because she's that awesome and I'll go "I WAS SUCH A DUNCE" and my life will be full of the things of God, but apparently my mouth or my subconscious hasn't quite got it.

One is a boy. This boy I haven't even known for a year, and no, I am not romantically interested in this boy. Randomly, we met, and he's a pretty cool guy. Smart, and he seems to have a better grasp of certain concepts that I've never been able to wrap my brain around, and he gets them just like that. His essays are mindblowing. Intelligent is a pretty good descriptor. Like the girl, he's got a fantastic focus on God. He's a little snarkier about it than most, but still wonderfully himself.

I don't know. Sometimes he feels distant. When he is, it makes it tough, just like it does when I miss the girl. Life is easy, but without these two, or even one of the two, it's difficult to be focused on Him.

And I don't know why.

Day 30: Deeply (dis)Satisfied

Ok I'll explain the title first. I'm deeply satisfied with my life. Even though I don't have my WOW girl, I'm not out of college, I really don't know for sure if I'm on the path that God wants me to be on even though I feel like I seem to be, I'm not where I want to be, but in spite of all this, I'm still satisfied with my life. Content. Choose a word. My thirst for living is sated.

But in the same sense it's not. I don't feel entirely like I'm giving 100% to God. It's more like just 0-70% depending on my mood. This I do not settle for. And it just seems like I could be doing more. In this sense, I am dissatisfied, and it drives me insane.

I still can't work on my CD because I'm waiting on the mic from 3N1, which since they're recording their demo, can't really get a hold of it. Not that I have a whole lot of free time anyways now that school's started back up, but still it'd be nice to get it out of the way. Idk, I could babble incoherently for a long time on this blog but I'll keep it short for my sanity and yours.

I have two mantras. "Soli Deo Gloria", which I stole from CHL, and "Life sucks, but God is great".
Soli Deo Gloria = Only God Glorify
Life sucks but God is great = The truth. Life sucks, but God is still greater and demands a greater focus.

Day 29: The Confusion.

I was talking family with a co-worker, and this was a slight summary of their religious beliefs according to her.

Christian belongs in quotation marks like such: "Christian".
Their family is "Christian" (using the quotation marks).
They don't attend church or anything.
They got religion.

First off, I believe it's a first that I've seen someone claim something and then undermine the title/group that they're affiliating themselves with by putting it in quotation marks. That's like saying, "Oh! I'm a 'Republican'." It smacks of "Republican (Whatever that is, it sounded cool at the time when we signed the paper)". Interesting in itself.
I won't make anything of what she claimed, for I am not a judge. But to take this an interesting turn,

Christianity, depending on what study you follow, is claimed by the majority of the population of the United States. If you include Catholics, that number shoots up a bit, especially if we're counting illegal immigrants. I think it'd be safe to say, at least 65%. But to ask Wikipedia's opinion on the matter, the number is roughly, 58.3% to 82.3%, including Catholicism. The exposure of Christianity is pretty far reaching. Most kids by the age of 12 can tell you who Jesus was. "He's that guy that had the cool cross necklace that carried the Bible, right?" Because a lot of times, Christianity is brought into debates such as abortion, gay marriage, and more, more beliefs are presented to the general public.

I think the United States suffers from Christianity Fatigue. We're tired of hearing about Jesus. Think about it. If 82.3% of the US were really Christians (that number seems a bit high to me), then Christ would be talked about by pretty much everyone, and hearing the Gospel message would be boring because most of us don't need to hear it. However, because so many people hear it, and they see no change (The crime rate is rising along with the percentage of Christians). DCTalk (I'd love to cite the writer and not the band, but I do not know which came up with the line, or if it's even original to them) wasn't far off when they opened "What if I Stumble" with 'The single greatest cause of atheism in the world today is Christians who acknowledge Jesus with their lips and walk out the door and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.'

Those of us who do more than answer "Christian" on surveys, those of us who attend church, those of us who really want to take it seriously, really need to stand out from the hypocrites. Ted Dekker in his book "Heaven's Wager" had a character jokingly suggest that Christians should walk around pulling on their skin in the neck or arm areas. It'd look ridiculous, and it'd be shameful to most, but those who really wanted to live it out would do it. I don't know if I'd go so far as to suggest stretching out your skin, but it's the little things that count. Find ways to live that stand up with the Bible. Really respect people, regardless of what they do. We are not measured by the cards that are dealt to us, but rather how we decide to play our given hand. It takes a huge act of faith to really live out the Christian walk, and sometimes I think we're all a little underplaying it. How many people do you know really stand out? Are we really radical? Who would rather go minister than watch a game of football, or hold a worship service in a Starbucks without once thinking it strange.

Who does that nowadays?
Few and far between.

Day 28: The Peace that Wasn't

I don't know who came up with the idea originally, but there's that saying in weddings where it's like "Speak now or forever hold your peace". This saying equates silence with peace in some manner, but regardless I disagree.

There's this cycle that is my love life, and it goes as follows. Know girl --> Become close friends with girl --> start to like girl --> admit feelings for girl/ask her out --> Be given a reason as to she can't with me, or anyone else --> a week or so later, find out that reason was complete and utter birdseed, usually when she starts going with another guy or tries to anyways. It's one lie after another. Every time. I don't know where humanity got this idea that telling the lie helps guard people from pain, but it's pretty obvious you're lying when it's all over facebook.

Now the cycle has varied in the past, but never successfully. But of course being the guy I am I don't name names.

However, the cycle has not repeated itself in the latest situation, and to make it worse the other guy happens to be a good friend. So I've kept my mouth shut and tried not to get in the way. But it's not helping at all, because it's a test of whether or not I can still be a friend if I feel betrayed. And as much as I hate it, something's changed, and I don't know what.

"Referred pain" is a term used to describe a situation where you have an injury on your hand, but instead of feeling pain there, you feel pain in some other place, like your shoulder, even though it's probably perfectly healthy. I don't know if it works exactly with emotional --> physical pain, but lately I've had a randomly horrible toothache, even though I have no real tooth problem. I only have this mystery tooth ache when it really bothers me or I'm really upset. And that's almost 100% when I'm talking to them or thinking about it. I've done my best to try and keep quiet about this, and I've certainly had my fair chances to vent at her, but I refuse to do it because I know no good will come of it.

It just makes it so hard to feel God when I feel so unholy.

Soli Deo Gloria

Day 27: The fix isn't the fix.

OK, so came into the summer going, you know what, my life with women sucks. They either turn me down, call me their "best friend" (which for the record I don't mind at most points), or it ends up badly because Stendhal's approach was not followed, and I have no reason to believe anything short of an act of God will be successful outside of his theory.

My proposed fix was to make a list of all potential candidates. Find the good girls, and if something happens eventually, then great. But if you make the list (Sorry Santa, stole the idea. I still want presents this year) it makes it much easier to decide if a girl is worth it or not when the opportunity arises.

The problem with this fix? That list is burning up faster than napalm-drenched cardboard. They're all taken, and will be for a long time. I mean, there are couples that look good together, but when you see someone genuinely happy and glowing, you don't want to mess that up, and it's likely to go on for a long time. So if you're not one of the two, you're hung out to dry.

And it's like that. At every turn. And it sucks.

I hate being on the outside looking in.

Day 26: The Summer Review

I came into this summer with a great desire to correct that which was wrong and untrue in my life. Through June, I was able to do a decent job, but this was due mainly to my busyness. Every spare moment of my time was taken up by math, spanish, work, and the Kellon-Caile project. I had no free time to deal with anything else. Since that section of my summer school finished up, I've had more free time in July and August, but less to apply it to. While normally a social life wouldn't be a bad thing, those I am choosing to associate myself with are not helping me move forward, but backwards. Jace was supposed to be a lesson to learn from and never repeat, yet I was on the verge of doing it all over again, thankfully the keyphrase is "was on the verge" and not "am on the verge". Small things to be positive about.

The summer mantra:

Respect Women

Respect Parents

-Respect & Follow God-