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| Cristina: what happened 8:31 PM me: i'm not on my laptop illl ttyl Cristina: oooooo haha we saw u heart said that heart said she llloves u 8:32 PM hoc gfndhyxn y heart typed that me: hi Cristina: ok ttyl me: love you too :D Cristina: :) :) :( lol 8:33 PM thats frm lance ioi me: hehe Cristina: :O :*( me: ok i'll go on my laptop in a bit sorry ttyl :D | | |
| here again.
bloggin from the bus.
every year i have one goal. a hurdle that i know i'll overcome one day. this goal is not be miserable on the day of my birth. and for many many reasons i can say why i hate celebrating me. the not setting yourself up to be forgotten or misunderstood or overlooked. the attention that you don't want but secretly want but only when you want it; and upon having received at the inopportune time, reject for feeling rejected. i've always had that attitude in me. the particularities i fixate on. i've wanted for nothing but to be normal. and i'm only truly beginning to realize i am nothing of the sort.
this won't be organized, consider it a dumping of the gall. a seeking to remember ..why life.
and so i sit here on this. that my life is built on a promise. maybe one my mom made to God way back when. maybe a promise birthed in the bellies of my ancestors aching to survive the chaos of history. yeah this is definitely one of those what the heck am i trying to say posts.
so the spirit of death that wants me to agree with it about why it's so hard to be me around people...i choose to ignore even as it fills my ears with petty lies. i know there is reason to my reveling in life. of feeling deeply and seeing more than most. of wanting to do a million things with my life. something akin to having the mantles of the unborn tossed onto you. you hope to God you will do them justice. seems fitting that if i were chosen to live for more than just me, that i would have the corresponding weight of pushing through the pain of everyone that felt unwanted. i will celebrate that i get to live for them. to taste for them. to sing and dance and shout for them. to laugh about hummingbirds and ladybugs and mounds of dirt and donkeys. to find beauty in the broken and the insignificant.
john 1.11-13
11He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. 12Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— 13children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.
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| it used to kill me whenever someone described me as "cute"
really.
i mean. come on. something more affable, like beautiful or pretty or gorgeous or hot or something.
but.
there was one time when someone prayed over me that God thinks i'm so cute.
i just about died.
everything in me.
melted at the thought.
i remember weeping at the revelation.
of all the times i felt the cuteness was a curse.
and now when i see my little niece hearty.
and i hear her voice come out in mine.
and see her expressions in my face.
i relish in the cuteness.
yes.
i am perfectly and wonderfully made
just for You.
..mmm.
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| some days
i feel you right here with me
and i know
i know you know
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| it is week 3 of new job
and signs of a workaholic are lingering
when the weekend becomes a joyful respite
no commuting
no rushing to be somewhere on the dot because things run on something
called efficiency
called a schedule that
aches so much to work that it does to some quantifiable degree
gotta love the ever-calibrating
ah the reverberations of a constant drumming
improve, improve
progress, progress
cleaner, faster, stronger
down the line we will leave some cafe space for discourse
was it true in the ivory tower
when asked to think critically about the world?
challenge authority and every high thing?
sever yourself from the world
look upon it intently
whatever discipline you choose
know that nothing is a perfect science
nothing a perfect study
but the attempt should prove fruitful
sever yourself from the thing
and if it comes back to peruse your heart leaves
maybe it's worth the shot
to be severed again from the lifeline
again from the world that jeers at futile meanderings of thought
see my cynicism
more a dark disgust of not finding my place
when everyone seems to fit so neatly into their cubbyholes
the intellectual academic
the proletariat
i am such a floater
both yield worlds yet to be reached
people always want to change the world
it's not new
not new to me
not new to berkeley
i find myself always in tenuous strands
weaving a web across fullness and lack
bestow upon humanity a dignity lost in
form and function
a royalty that's lost itself to rags
jesus, there is so much more
maybe i need a shifting of what constitutes world
maybe i need an emptying of guile
replace it with joy and peace and love
instead of that snarky cynicism
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