tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46670428913692078272024-03-08T13:10:36.982-08:00Screaming Sounds of SilenceLisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-49723697411017432962013-10-13T22:36:00.002-07:002013-10-13T22:36:43.792-07:00SabbathLife is insane. I work two jobs, I sleep three and a half hours every night, and sometimes I sleep during my lunch breaks. I'm planning a wedding, I'm trying to coordinate two work schedules so my fiance and I can see each other. I'm trying to breathe.<br />
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"If you're too busy to take a day off for the Sabbath, you're forcing yourself to do too much and not following God." Paraphrased quote from K-LOVE tonight.<br />
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Doing too much. I always do too much.<br />
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I don't remember the exact wording of the quote, but I remember the feeling of being overworked, stressed out, panicked, with no end in sight of the hectic crazy. I feel it every day, with or without my Bible time, and it's really upsetting when Scott and I can't get one day to ourselves without work obligations. I always feel so much more loved, so much closer to him when we do get those days together to just be. And that quote stirred something deeper, like a promise of something better when we stopped doing too much.<br />
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And now God's request for a Sabbath makes sense. When will I learn that sometimes the easiest things to let go, like one devoted day, are the ones that make or break a person?<br />
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It's not that He wants us lazy, but He wants us to just rest in his grace and love and to spend time with Him and devote an entire day to enjoying life with Him. No harried checking email, no fantasy football updates, just Him and us...<br />
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And suddenly I feel kind of ashamed for missing out on my day together with Him, I prioritize work and being busy so much. And I feel like I miss out on His leadings so often because I'm so busy, I pack my days to where I get three and a half hours of sleep at night and I can't sit back and LISTEN.<br />
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"We miss out on the newest divine direction because we failed to honor the last one."<br />
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I have been stressing out over so much lately, how I'm going to handle an aspect of the wedding, how I'm going to keep working while not feeling well, how I'm going to maintain friendships if I have half an hour I can talk to people...<br />
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I learned a long time ago that money goes a lot farther after tithing. I really feel like I'm being called to tithe my time, to actually sit back and take one day to just be with God. No running around, no insane demanding schedule, just be with God. Yoga to worship music, eating fresh foods outside in the sunshine, just rest and be and read the Word for hours like I used to...<br />
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I always force myself to do too much. Sometimes I joke it's because I have something to prove. Sometimes I feel worried that if I don't work my absolute hardest, God won't help me, that He gave me two jobs because I CAN work my absolute hardest and that He expects me to WonderWoman it. But my body has started acting like it wants to fail, like it can't keep going without a very long day off. I get the feeling that we were designed to only work very long days of physical labor for six days in a row.<br />
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Saturdays are my day devoted to church. What would my life be like if that day was devoted to enjoying God's presence like I do my fiance's, and fellowship with other believers was just a bonus?Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-68140882774520386112012-06-11T07:35:00.000-07:002012-06-11T07:35:00.188-07:00All the change. Ever. Of all time.So... busy busy busy busy busy busy busy busy time...<br />
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New boyfriend, new job, new routine, new computer, new cell phone, new adopted cat...<br />
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And that transitions into:<br />
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Fiance, twenty-hour days, computer games, contact with people, and cat beating up my sister and wishing I had a dog. :P There is indeed much to go over. However, the biggest change (the whole upcoming wedding thing) will be gone over elsewhere. It's my new hope to write at least two blog posts a week, one for this one, and then one for a new blog. That blog will be combo writing and video, detailing history with fiance, and upcoming wedding planning, and will be found at <a href="http://standingintheraintodance.blogspot.com/">Wedding Planning Is Only Dancing In The Rain</a>.<br />
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That is, as soon as I get a post up. :PLisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-54228919797854962042010-09-19T13:50:00.000-07:002010-09-19T13:51:16.169-07:00Life... abundantly<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 16px; "><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">An abundant life. That phrase brings concepts of prosperity, usefulness, and work to the forefront of my mind. It's almost a revolting phrase. Pastor Jim uses it liberally in every sermon and prayer. Miss Mandy and MIss Theresa put it in every time they pray with the nursery workers. And I see abundance as part of the Misery-Inducing American Dream. </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">I have hit, not THE lowest I've hit but still down there, low points in the thirteen months I've attended JCI (Joy Church International). I've started having what can best be described as black-outs, where I'll stop breathing and seeing and forget how to start again, and seizures, where I will be aware of what's going on but incapable of responding. I've been cutting and spending hours in solitary confinement in my room or outside. I've even spent hours a day dreaming about suicide, beating myself up, imagining scenarios where I get what I deserve. I'm twenty years, three months, and nineteen days old. That's a lot of sin to be punished—painfully—for. </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">At all of these low points in my life, the thought of an abundant life made me stomach-sick, and I couldn't talk to anyone about it without them bringing it up. You can't interrupt the pastor and ask him about it, at the beginning of nursery is not the time for a two-hour discussion on abundance, and it's not really a phrase we use here at home. I was honestly repulsed by the idea of<span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">more</span> work, living your identity through your usefulness, and living in a state of prosperity that falls away in moments. I'd already dealt with that, thanks anyway. I didn't want abundance. I just wanted it to be <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">over.</span> I was tired of cutting, I was tired of false smiles, I was tired of working to let no one worry about me, and I was just plain <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">tired.</span> I wanted to die. I tried to make people angry, tried to make them hate me. Maybe they would cast me out, hurt me like I deserved, or kill me like I wanted. Maybe I could finally be at peace, live in a place I was loved unconditionally, be with the people who went before who I mourned daily... maybe Christ Himself would hold and comfort me like I was promised. Cause I sure wasn't seeing it now.</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">I didn't want abundance and I resented people who pushed it on me like it was a requirement for Christianity and those who resembled that abundance to me. Donna, Cassie, Jason: I apologize. I <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">really</span> resented those who wouldn't hurt me or just let me die, so major apology goes to Raen, Linny, Rachael, Scott, and Jacob. </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">A few weeks ago, I was stressed to my maximum, going nonstop and learning a new job. I resented being forced to get a job and still struggle with bitterness that absolutely no respect was given by my mother to my pursuit in finishing my novel and trying to get it published. Labor Day "weekend" was insane, quite literally, and I was pushed to my limits in every way possible the first two weeks of this month... only to find I'd been shortchanging myself. I<span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">can</span> work six hour shifts without energy drinks. I <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">do</span> have more patience than the average chihuahua. And with these realizations came bigger ones. I've fought depression for over five years and I'm still alive, so I'm stronger. I haven't cut since January (or March, I forget which) 11th, and I can only see the scars when searching. I deal better with my problems after praying with someone over theirs. Maybe I could get through these seizures and black-outs after all?</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">Last Wednesday, my ten year old sister was so excited. She was getting baptized that evening. I felt the strongest joy I've felt in years for her, and when I got dropped off at church at five that evening, I was calm enough to read for the first time in awhile. I pulled out my 113 year old volume of Tennyson. Starting with my favorite, "Crossing The Bar", I read aloud a little. I loved that poem so much, I memorized it in my freshman year of high school. It's about death, but it holds a major key in the end: "I hope to see my Pilot face to face/When I have crost the bar." I, too, longed to see Him face to face when I died. And my sister would have visible confirmation that day that she would too. I turned back to the beginning.</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">I found a poem called "The Two Voices". I started crying. I wasn't alone. That voice inside whispering to me, "would it not be better to remove yourself" hunted him as well. I wasn't alone! I kept crying, devouring his refusal to kill himself, feeling his fight. And then it came. His final stand. Loosely translated: <em>Whatever crazy emotions tell us, nobody's really longed to die, they just thirst unquenchingly for life and it more abundantly.</em> When at the most numb, I just wanted to feel <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">something</span>, which was why I cut. <em>"Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive..." </em>I listened that evening to Pastor Jim's exact phrasing of the abundant life phrase. I heard what I thought I heard in Tennyson—life... and it more abundantly. </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">Abundance is <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">not</span> the subject of the sentence. <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">Life</span> is. I heard a cry for hope in Tennyson, a need to find something to rejoice in. There was a second voice and it spoke of a hidden hope. I heard it too. I heard <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">life</span> in that voice's words. When Pastor Jim talks about an abundant life, he's not talking about prosperity, usefulness, and work in an existence (alone, anyway), he's talking about <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">life</span> and large amounts of it. </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">When I think of abundance, I see superficiality. When I think of life, I taste fresh strawberries, feel snow on my toes, hear laughter, see dancing, and smell rain. When I think of life, it's joy and peace and patience and kindness and goodness and perseverance and self-control and, above all, <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">love. That</span> is the life Jesus came to bring, and it more abundantly just means large amounts beyond anything we could ask or dream.</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">And I have it. It is literally right now in my own spirit. I don't have to go beyond death for what I've been thirsting. It's available to me in the here and now and in that availability, I found healing. I tested it yesterday pretty hard and spent a lot of yesterday evening resting from the trying of the strength found in the joy of the Lord. </p><ol style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 25px; "><li>I had an eight hour workday and I discovered I <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">love</span> opening shift. I saw my favorite constellations on my way into work.</li><li>I got to go to church. Amber Davis scared me for a moment with her lawyer-assistant role and I got to thank her for following Christ and being who she is because she might have been that woman who scared me.</li><li>I spent about an hour talking with Hannah Marrero, who is an epic blessing.</li><li>I watched Cassie, Tim, Will, and Scott be themselves (can't vouch for Jason, but he doesn't seem to have very many masks if any) and I loved every moment of it.</li></ol><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">After twelve hours of sleep, I woke up at 10:10 in the morning. I could never remember the reference for the 'life and it more abundantly' verse, so I looked it up. John 10:10. My family used to joke that 10:10 was happy hour, because when the hands of the clock are on 10 and 2, it looks like a smile. What an awesome reminder of His promise! </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">So today after more than five years, I sit, healed, with Tennyson and wondered why I ever <span class=" fbUnderline" style="text-decoration: underline; ">chose</span> the lesser of two voices.</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">"I marvell'd how the mind was brought</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">To anchor by one gloomy thought;</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">And wherefore rather I made choice</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">To commune with that barren voice,</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">Than Him that said, "Rejoice! rejoice!"</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">The Amplified Bible, John 10:10: "The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows)."</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">Our God is more than just something to bow to. He is a Fulfiller of promises, a Redeemer, a Healer, and Love itself.</p></span>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-90894552627362173192010-03-13T18:33:00.000-08:002010-03-13T19:46:29.216-08:00Do They Have To Scream?<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Does anybody know how I feel?</span></span></span></h3><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sometimes I'm numb, sometimes I'm overcome<br />Does anybody care what's going on?<br />Do I have to wear my scars like a badge on my arm<br />For you to see me, I need release<br /><br />Do I have to scream for you to hear me?<br />Do I have to bleed for you to see me?<br />'Cause I grieve, you're not listening to me<br />Do I need to scream?"<br /></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The opening to "Scream" by ZOEgirl. To the right of my posts, you'll see a music player. Listen to it. Listen good.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know the end holds more hope than this beginning. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But how many people actually know there's hope out there? And how many of us KNOW someone's hurting, by instinct or by admittance, and still fail to offer hope or even a hug? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have a friend I've recently been comfortable enough around to realize how hard they force themselves to remain invisible and keep the 'I don't think I'm good enough' barrier up when all they need is care. I've known their mask. I've used it. Even today, I used it. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But what breaks my heart the most is when I DO see and I do something about it... and I'm told that no one else has for months. For SEVEN MONTHS, no one has hugged this person. The same month I left Colorado was the the same month this person received their last hug. I'm asking around how long it's been since my friends have had an in-person hug. So far the replies are ranging from two days to a week. My mother can remember going five years without a hug, obviously before any of us were born. I personally can remember going three months without a hug, family includ</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ed. That was four years ago now. But seven months? A DANCER going seven months without a hug? Is that even possible?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yes. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The fact that my friend can REMEMBER that it's been seven months and that much time has passed? That was just so completely heartbreaking... I know they think the world wouldn't miss them if they disappeared. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To know that I can hug people and be hugged in return, to know the world has some sort of touch? That's great and all, but there have to be hundreds out of the six billion who don't have that. I know I used to be like them, that I went long periods of time without a hug... But to know someone who needs it and who has no hope of getting one? I remember what it's like to wonder if everyone is just an empty shell and even the shell is just air. Sometimes I still wonder, though not for lack of love, but just lack of touch. To live like that is more painful than I care to recall... And to know that I KNOW someone who hasn't been hugged for that long and that I could've changed that? How could I have been so blind? How could I have walked by them as often as I have since I've been home? What was I waiting for? A scream?</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;">Do they have to scream? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;">I spent much of last night crying, again most of this morning and much of this afternoon, and once more tonight as I write this... </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;">Do they need to scream? If one of us fails, can't another pick up the slack? Do people HAVE to go seven months without a hug because one of us is too blind to see what's going on?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;">THIS HAS TO END.</span></span></div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-22924564415835700892010-03-07T18:23:00.000-08:002010-03-07T18:26:37.501-08:00Purchasing links for the books I just referenced in previous post<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, serif; "><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">COTSK</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=wwwenterthedo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=1400315050&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=A0F35E&f=ifr" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" style="width: 120px; height: 240px; "></iframe></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">TDW</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=ABBED5&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=wwwenterthedo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&m=amazon&f=ifr&asins=1400310113" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" style="width: 120px; height: 240px; "></iframe></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">TROTWL</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=D49CE1&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=wwwenterthedo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&m=amazon&f=ifr&asins=1400310121" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" style="width: 120px; height: 240px; "></iframe></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">TFS</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=BDFBB6&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=wwwenterthedo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&m=amazon&f=ifr&asins=140031013X" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" style="width: 120px; height: 240px; "></iframe></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">IOS</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=EDB55B&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=wwwenterthedo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&m=amazon&f=ifr&asins=1400313635" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" style="width: 120px; height: 240px; "></iframe></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">IOF</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=84D3EF&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=wwwenterthedo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&m=amazon&f=ifr&asins=1400312167" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" style="width: 120px; height: 240px; "></iframe></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">ROTD</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=F9F88D&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=wwwenterthedo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&m=amazon&f=ifr&asins=0972548602" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" style="width: 120px; height: 240px; "></iframe></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">TLV</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0pt; margin-right: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0pt; "><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=wwwenterthedo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=1933853492&fc1=F5EDED&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=FFE500&bc1=000000&bg1=08320F&f=ifr" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" style="width: 120px; height: 240px; "></iframe></span></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Bryan Davis's Amazon Page: </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">http://www.amazon.com/Bryan-Davis/e/B001IXMML8/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1268015110&sr=1-2-ent</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sharon Hinck's Amazon Page:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">http://www.amazon.com/Sharon-Hinck/e/B001IQXR28/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1</span></span></div></span>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-16894375374322057952010-03-07T16:57:00.000-08:002010-03-07T18:17:19.166-08:00Truly Never AloneThis year has been so different than many of the years before. I started out believing I was worth something more than what I chose to do, who I chose to be around, and where I was content to sit and be apathetic. Rough times happened, what I believed was challenged, and I was scarred and broken because of it. But breaking isn't the end. They broke Christ, you know. They broke his legs, they KILLED him. And he came back. Alive, better. <div><br /></div><div>Back in January, my pastor started a sermon series called "What's Right With Me: Learning to Fail Forward". I don't like the idea of failure, even if it IS failing forward, but it prepared me for what's happening now. There was a series in between that and the series we're doing now, called "Who Am I: Learning To Respond To Life From Your Position, Not Your Condition". Our special verse for this series is Philemon 1:6 - 'that the sharing of your faith may become effectual by the acknowledgement of every good thing in us in Christ.' EVERY GOOD THING IN US. That's what's right with me. There's something in good in me... IN CHRIST! :D </div><div><br /></div><div>And it's true. There IS something good in me. I may have been challenged and I may have fallen, but I fell forward, not back. I AM worth more than spending my life pointlessly, worth more than choosing to spend time around people who use me to fill something in their life, and worth more than apathy. Things had to change. I had to take what I did every day and use it for something better, like learning piano and learning languages so I can more effectively communicate my faith through things I love and have a gift for. I had to block the friends who misused me and who I allowed to do that. I had to choose to let God's joy truly be my strength.</div><div><br /></div><div>But in order to do all of that and not quit? I had to learn I was never alone. I can say it a billion times. I have friends with whom I always exchange "Never Alone"s at the end of every letter, phone conversation, and chat. Not easy for me. I learn by reading. I could probably give you seventeen verses about how He will never leave my side. Great and all, but there's no proof, just a promise. I needed to read about how someone else could make it through. I needed something I didn't have to support, something that would support ME. But there's very little to no fiction out there where I can truly experience never being alone. Bonnie Silver is who I long to be like, she knows innately and LIVES the concept of Never Alone. But I never really got to see her learn it. I saw her battle, which gave me hope and faith that I COULD battle it out. But I never saw the process. And I was lonely. </div><div><br /></div><div>Back in 2008, the creator of Bonnie Silver (Bryan Davis, author of the "Dragons In Our Midst" series, "Oracles Of Fire" series, "Echoes From The Edge" series, and "I Know Why The Angels Dance") was on a Christian fantasy fiction tour with three other authors: Christopher Hopper (author of The White Lion Chronicles), Sharon Hinck (author of The Restorer series), and Wayne Thomas Batson (author of The Door Within Trilogy). I list Wayne Batson last because out of the three Bryan Davis traveled with, he stands out most clearly in my mind. Meeting him changed my life. Mr. Batson was friendly and awesome and hilarious like a big teddy bear with a sword and a rolling laugh. After meeting him, I HAD to read The Door Within.</div><div><br /></div><div>I cried. I found exactly what I needed. With Adrian, I learned HOW to believe in Never Alone. A kid from Maryland had to move to Colorado to take care of his grandpa. Leaving THE known home, and therefore the known world, to go somewhere completely unlike it (I've been to both states, trust me, they are NOT alike) to go fulfill a familial obligation? Check. From California to Oregon, from Oregon to Tennessee. Been there, done that. But in the process, Adrian and his parents come in contact with REALITY. The grandpa believes wholeheartedly in The Realm, a world neither seen or evident in this world. Adrian is called to go to The Realm through the Door Within and become the Twelfth Knight on a dangerous mission. This wasn't the reality I knew. And I needed it. I needed the escape, I needed someone to follow after. Abstract concepts I can handle. Down to earth instructions like recipes? Hang the code, and hang the rules. I needed the fantasy and the fiction, it was how I learned, how I understood. I cried. This is where I KNEW I wasn't alone. It was proven over and over for Adrian, then for Antoinette who had already believed and was ready to take on the world. I related to her most by the time I read the second book. Already a believer in The Realm, ready to rock and roll the instant she was called. Skilled fighter, her test was to choose wisdom and compassion time and time again. With her, I knew I was ready to take another journey and SERVE, not just learn how. But something still held me back. The third book came and we see Robby's battle, an old best friend of Adrian whose father is on the clearly defined evil side and who has promised Robby all sorts of power in both worlds. The same father that ran out on Robby years ago has come back powerful and popular and rich. The past Robby knew haunts him and he's not sure how to adapt to how things are now. He'd been broken before, and although he was a real popular athlete at school and everything, he knew it wasn't quite enough to just use his mask to get through... then Robby was called into the Realm. And I remembered. I remembered being broken, I saw me broken now, remembered my past, remembered my masks. And though I KNEW Never Alone and I knew what came next, like Merewen and Robby I still wondered: is there really complete rescue? Not only did the third book in the trilogy prove that there really was complete rescue, but there was also PURPOSE beyond what had already happened. Robby was someone SPECIAL along with Aidan and Antoinette. And I knew I was Never Alone, I had His wisdom available to me at all times, and I was someone SPECIAL.</div><div><br /></div><div>After learning it and finishing the trilogy, I realized I had yet to live it. Last summer, I left my home and went to live in Colorado with another family because of their needs and mine. From there, I began slowly changing, believing in Never Alone. I faced a hard battle where Bonnie Silver and Antoinette Reed had already tread and I knew what had to be done. And I did it. This year I've begun living out the fact that I know I'm special, that I'm meant for something more. And I know what I believe in and I know it's worth standing up for. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today my pastor asked who we were. He said we were three things. Number one, we are a spirit. (John 3:3-6, 2 Corinthians 5:17, Colossians 2:10, and Ephesians 4:24). Then he said that number two was that we are not a soul (our emotions and will) or a body, that it's just as important to know what we are not as it is to know what we are. Something God told me in the middle of the service was that MY EMOTIONS DO NOT DICTATE WHO I AM. I may have a bad day and I may hate myself BUT I AM NOT WORTHLESS OR DESERVING OF HATE. I have been forgiven by the One God whose opinion is the FINAL answer on who I am. MY DISABILITIES CAN NOT CONSTRAIN WHO I AM. I recently got off crutches again after screwing up my right leg by falling out of the bathtub while cleaning. Sitting day after day after day, trying to be patient and heal, that is all SO not my thing. It drives me insane, I hate myself for NEEDING to be lazy and heal. But my inability to be perfect does not define the limits of who I am. My spirit is still loving and willing to do things for people and be there and tumble mountains for Him even while I'm physically stuck to a chair. I, the real me, CANNOT BE PHYSICALLY CONSTRAINED. I can still be of value and still be of productive worth to the family sitting just as well as I can up and about, sometimes even better while on crutches. My feelings do NOT represent my spiritual status as God's princess, and my feelings CANNOT tell me the truth about who I am.</div><div><br /></div><div>My emotions and disabilities cannot void the fact that I am a princess and I am a prayer warrioress and I am NEVER ALONE. My circumstances do not dictate me. I am beloved even when I am depressed, therefore I have no reason to be depressed. I am precious even when I am broken, therefore broken has no meaning for me anymore. The joy of the Lord IS my strength, He IS my Father and my Husband, I AM Never Alone!</div><div><br /></div><div>And this is my theme song that Christopher Hopper and Wayne Batson wrote together called "The Lost Ones": http://www.christopherhopper.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/The-Lost-Ones1.mp3</div><div><br /></div><div>www.enterthedoorwithin.blogspot.com (Wayne Batson's blog)</div><div>www.heedtheprophecies.com (the new website for Wayne Batson and Christopher Hopper's collaboration called "Curse of the Spider King", a recent release I have yet to read)</div><div>www.christopherhopper.com (Christopher Hopper's website)</div><div>www.sharonhinck.com (Sharon Hinck's website)</div><div>www.daviscrossing.com (Bryan Davis's website)</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-73082723701506043872010-02-13T05:30:00.000-08:002010-02-13T05:49:09.312-08:00Inside My MindSynopsis of "Phantom of the Opera", as relating DIRECTLY to Christine. All outside interactions are cut out.<div><br /></div><div>In the beginning of Phantom, we see a scantily-clad dancer transformed into a diva singing "Think Of Me". After her success, she lights a candle in the chapel and a voice tells her 'bravissima'. The smile on her face is one of hearing the praise of the one who matters most to her, even though she's frightened by the presence of the voice. Later, she is met in a side-room by an old friend from her childhood who leaves her to fetch a carriage so they can go out together. The voice confronts her after the friend leaves and she permits it full mastery. It appears behind her mirror, a masked man in black. He urges her to come with the 'angel of music' he masquerades as, telling her to turn her face from the light. They enter his richly-furnished lair under the opera house and he begs her to help him make the music of the night as he twines his magic around her naive mind. She unmasks him and he promises to return her, and when he does, she refuses to see anyone. The prima donna's jealousies provoke the phantom to ruining her show and causing the young diva to need to take her place through a murder. Terrified, the girl flees to the roof with her friend who attempts to comfort her. They agree to get married and the phantom swears his vengeance. At a masquerade ball three months later, the phantom declares he's written an opera, takes the diva's engagement ring. In the chapel, she confesses how afraid she is of playing opposite the phantom and her friend promises he'll protect her. Early the next morning, she goes to visit her father's grave alone, mourning and begging him to help her say goodbye. She is put under the phantom's spell again until her friend discovers her whereabouts, he and the phantom fight. She rides away with her friend the victor after begging him not to kill the phantom. The opera takes place that night and the phantom sings alongside her. She warns her friend subtly and the phantom draws her in again, then confesses his obsession with her. Crying, she rips off his mask and exposes him. He then kidnaps her to his lair where he demands she change into a wedding gown he prepared for his own wedding with her. The friend arrives and the phantom gives her an ultimatum: marry the phantom or the friend dies. She kisses the phantom and he cries, releasing both of them.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We were childhood sweethearts with Christ, but then tragedy/life occurred and we never maintained the relationship, allowing a voice masquerading as an angel to take hold in our lives. Put under its spell, we wander down, caught in the tantalizing music of the night. We refuse to see anyone after we return from our foray. When power is placed in our hand through the darkness's obsession with us, we realize how frightening what we're addicted to really is and we flee to the arms of a promise that says "let Me lead you from your solitude". For a season, we're together with Him, before the 'angel' claims us. Because of our history with the 'angel', and not all bad either, we're loath to let Him destroy it even when we see it defeated and shameful. We reach the point where dreaming of our loss won't help us to do all they dreamed we could and ride away with the conqueror robbed of a complete victory while we ask why can't the past just die. We're up on the bridge, still in its arms, and we face the choice: we can either unmask our struggle and allow Him to send reinforcements or we can pass the point of no return and fully cede to the darkness.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right here is where the allegory ends, for when He comes for us in the end, He comes wholly victorious or not at all. We CAN'T give into the darkness to save Him, for He'd already died for us. So we must stand strong and let Him be wholly victorious.</div><div><br /></div><div>But most don't. Most are too afraid to unmask the struggle, afraid of condemnation and death... and possibly also too comfortable in the seduction the darkness weaves over us. For death tastes sweet 'til you reach the dregs. Just drink five cups of coffee a day brewed in a french press that lets the most powdery and smallest grounds get through and you'll understand what I mean. Coffee should NEVER be even SLIGHTLY muddy-textured or crunchy! /bad metaphor</div><div><br /></div><div>So when I say 'the phantom of the opera is there inside my mind', I mean 'I need you to know I'm not through the night, some days I'm still fighting to look towards the light'. But I'm getting there by His grace. So can you, and so can the others who still listen to the haunting strains of the music of the night.</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-81191245947188330902010-02-13T05:12:00.001-08:002010-02-13T05:52:14.001-08:00Valentine's Day Goes Goth<div>This was written at three-thirty in the morning after an extended length of trying to sleep and failing, reading 1stTim - 3rdJohn, and experimenting with eyeliner.</div><div><br /></div><div>***</div><div><br /></div>Those of you who've known me for any length of time and have met me will agree that in general, I'm an un-intimidating brunette whose fashion tastes run from punkish to just plain weird. Granted, in the summer, I often end up blonde because of swimming and there WAS that one redhead escapade Mama helped me pull off, but that is definitely beside the point. I do wear a lot of black, but that's as close as I come to the goth archetype in my life.<div><br /></div><div>A year or two ago, two of my awesome girl friends decided to go goth for VDay. They have their reasons, and I'm pretty sure the younger of the two has done a blog on her reasoning behind this. So when a third friend, much closer to the goth class as STILL four times as adorable as any goth out there, asked on her FB stat who was going goth for SAD/VDay, I decided I would go goth this year as well.</div><div><br /></div><div>I asked myself exactly what my motivation was behind going goth on a Sunday when I would have to be at church. Was it to make sure no one would want to be around me ever again? I don't think so, I REALLY want to be friends with these people. How about to scare those who do know me well there? The two or three who do would probably blink twice and tell me what I could do to look MORE goth.</div><div><br /></div><div>The more I thought about it, the more I knew I wanted to make a stand against That-Which-Is-Misnomered-As-Love. VDay has to be one of the most deceptive holidays in the year. At Easter, we have the traditional services that even the heathens attend once a year here in the South. At Christmas, we still put up Nativity scenery with our Santas. Even Halloween, the kids still dress up and, though they may not know the story, the roots still exist.</div><div><br /></div><div>But we have to set aside a day to guilt-trip others, sell ourselves, gorge on our own wants and desires for fuzzy, light stuff?! It's like we're scarfing down Twinkies and expecting it to be a thorough, balanced, and filling meal! And we SAY we do it in the name of love and romance!</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been accused of being a cynic when it comes to love and romance. YOU watch people go through this unsatisfying sap fest for nineteen years, see the effects, and THEN tell me something doesn't begin to break, wilt, and die inside at this mockery of the concept behind what Christ died for. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can't help but think that TRUE love and romance is a day-to-day LIFESTYLE, not a once-a-year holiday. All the special stuff can be done on any day of the year. In fact, the more spontaneous when doing the special stuff, the better. It makes it SPECIAL. Having an assigned date not only sparks the feelings of "another chore" but also those of "it's my due, I deserve it", which in my opinion are the exact attitudes that tend to destroy marriages.</div><div><br /></div><div>So this is my stand. I will go goth on February 14th and only for February 14th. Me and my mascara. So sue me, I realized I threw out my black eyeliner two years ago (I never used it and it was a hand-me-down from Grandma, and I've recently discovered that sharing makeup is not safe), so I needed to find a replacement. I tried a couple different methods, but I finally settled for a dab of mascara on a TINY paintbrush and using it like eyeliner that way. The planned hairstyle looks way more emo rock than goth, but I like it. Again lacking black lipstick, I use the darkest shade of lipstick I have (I only have two, people!) and dab a TINY bit of mascara over it. Add my black jeans, black tank, black jacket, black armwarmers, black ankle boots, and a chain belt (it's so long that when I clip it on, there's an extra length that I can loop so it hangs like a proper chain). I should be set, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>Looks like it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Poor church.</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-11092075439813107302010-02-09T12:07:00.000-08:002010-02-09T12:20:43.076-08:00On Purity<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;">The first thought/verse that comes to my mind when the issue of kissing is brought up is "Do you not know that when a man lies with a prostitute, he becomes one with her" (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; ">1 Cor. 6), and to know that for a moment, your lips are one with that person's, that you're sharing the same breath of life... To me, I can't even begin to describe the pain and heartache that would give me, to know I gave that to someone besides my husband. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; ">That would equate to adultery in my life, for the Bible says in Isaiah 54 that the Lord is my Husband and I have chosen to accept that, to remain promised and pure and taken. Yes, if He chooses to send me to an earthly husband, by all means, I will heed, obey, and enjoy that. But for now, I am called to be His alone and I refuse to share my breath and my body with anyone until otherwise instructed. It's not a burden to me, to be set apart or to be chosen, I was chosen! I WAS CHOSEN! </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; ">That's such a big deal to me I can't even describe. It's glorious happiness to me to have been chosen that I will ADORE being set apart for Him and that I will always rejoice in His love. When I consider backing down, when people tell me I'm too rigid, I look at the times before I realized I had become chosen and I stare at myself in shock. How could I have been so miserable and wanted to stay that way, even though I did nothing different physically? </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; ">My mindset changed and I will NEVER consider backing down on this. It's contentment, happiness, He wants what's best for me and will provide, it's security and love and protection and adoration and sacrificial love... Why would I ever choose to let someone who is not a permanent fixture in my life caress my face with his lips when I have a Husband who caresses my soul with the sunrise and wraps my heart in moonlight and dances with me every day for all of eternity? </span></span><br /><br />Seriously though, I really do think this is a big deal and that you shouldn't have a person in your life you would consider kissing that isn't known to a group (I like an odd number, like three or five for tiebreakers) of adults that you trust to give you Godly counsel. If you feel like you need to hide it from them, break off any temptation, leave the person to their own devices with someone else, and pray to God that He shows them wisdom. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;">I realize not everybody has that, but I really do think if an effort is made to SEARCH for God's will, He will show it. As for the ACTUAL topic, there are always things that can happen before you actually reach the altar. I don't mean to be pessimistic, but people DO DIE during engagement periods and their intended DO occasionally marry other people. It's been known to happen. I would seriously recommend not kissing until the altar. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;">It's just my opinion, and I know there are a TON of people who don't agree with me, including a few I've known for a dozen years and even some of my own family. All I'm saying is that I really feel strongly on this point that kissing is so not okay. I'm sorry if you don't agree, I really don't mean to attack. But it's the conviction that God placed on my heart and it's the standard I will live up to.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px; ">Those of you on DIOM who follow me around pointlessly through debates probably recognize this post. But over the last couple weeks since posting that, I've been realizing it applies more and more not just to kissing, but to every single aspect of purity. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px;">Think about it.</span></span></div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-54110978588282404632010-02-07T19:27:00.000-08:002010-02-07T19:57:15.357-08:00Serial dating...I can't condone that practice. In general, the only byproducts of the lifestyle of serial/casual dating are divorces, affairs, abortions, and reminiscient-of-country-music obsessions.<div><br /></div><div>The majority of casual dating relationships in high school that I have observed/been-shoulder-to-cry-on run as follows: Spock meets Beverly. Physical attraction. Romantic attachment. Physical evidence. Spock observes Beverly and Wes, does not comprehend their relationship and takes it as a personal affront. Spock plus Uhura because Beverly plus Wes. Spock and Beverly break up. Uhura plus Wes. Essentially, casual dating in these instances teaches you how to accomplish affairs and divorces with very little inconvenience. Oh the wonders of high school!</div><div><br /></div><div>Among 'Christian' teens and collegiates who think they're older and wiser than their high school days, casual dating is referred to as 'the search for The Right One'. Here it is less likely you will find the blatant drama where it is everyone's business who's with whom. But it is these relationships that tend to go deeper. In high school, everyone KNEW Spock and Beverly had no intention of marriage and that permanency was unlikely. The supposed test if someone loves you is "in his kiss", right? That magical spark that causes the flame in your soul to roar? And yet the fire awoken needs fuel, and when facing the possibility of being together always, Eowyn is ten times more likely to let Aragorn do more than kiss her (if he ever WOULD) than she would've been. Because of that, the potential percentage of diseases and unplanned pregnancies skyrocket. And don't bother with the protection argument, it doesn't always work. And for the women, the automatic abortion function programmed into the pills can do a ton of harm.</div><div><br /></div><div>On top of all of that, the potential for obsession in ANY casual dating relationship is 99%. Not everyone will take it too far and murder their obsession literally (watch Monk or Castle sometime and you'll see what I mean) but smothering the life they have outside of that one person, paying attention to no one but him, dedicating every breath to him? Not only will life sound like a bad country song when it's over, the possibilities of being an alcohol or drug addict shoot to a level equal toPluto's distance from the sun, depression is likely to kick in, and your 'life' as you know it is over. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've known three, MAYBE four, casual dating relationships to work out and stay strong. Because of what casual dating will almost certainly do to you spiritually, physically, mentally, emotionally, and almost without fail, I can't support that idea.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dating with a purpose (marriage, people, DO NOT MISSIONARY-DATE) is something that intrigues me. But I'm of an old-fashioned mold where guardian-approved and -supervised (at very least, in a group with an accountability partner) courting with PURITY, TRUTHFULNESS, and 1 CORINTHIANS 13 BASED LOVE is the only way to accomplish a relationship that will last. Again, that's MY mold; my desire for purity and honesty and respect and selflessness and maybe THEN romance built into my husband's character and relationship with me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Purity is another issue which I will follow up here later.</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-80850484136686703162009-10-06T16:32:00.000-07:002009-10-06T19:46:46.601-07:00Rain, rain on my face... hasn't stopped raining for days...<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; "><span class="UIStory_Message"><div id="id_4acbe31e1ba5c2a823d41" class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" style="display: inline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">"Don't know whether or not how sad I just got was of my own volition or if I'm just missing the sun. And tomorrow, I know, will be rainy at best and the forecast, I know, says that I'll be depressed. But I'll wait outside </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">hopi</span></span></span></span></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">ng</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> that I'll catch sight of the sun. Because on and off, the clouds have fought for control over the sky. And lately the weather has been so bi-polar and consequently, so have I. </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">And the temperature is freezing and then, after dark, there's a cold frost sweeping in over my heart. And we might break up if I don't wake up to the sun."</span></span></span></span></span></div></span></h3><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">"</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Calm the storms that drench my eyes, dry the streams still flowing. Cast down all the waves of sin and guilt that overthrow me. Lift me up - when I'm falling. Lift me up - I'm weak and I'm dying. Lift me up - I need you to hold me. Lift me up - Keep me from drowning again."</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">"I'm not afraid of drowning, it's the breathing that's taking all this work..."</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">In other news: I got letters yesterday and that completely made my day. Hearing from Kryos was AWESOME and Linny's letter was brilliant. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">On top of that, I got this hilarious vid from Ema in a PM the other day: http://www.youtube.com/watchv=LHj1zrjpgKM </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">and it never fails to make me smile.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Today hasn't been the easiest day in a long time... Today of all days, it had to rain. I wanted to just give up. So much... I couldn't care less how I was just so long as there was nothing dangerous close at hand or I could very quickly go downhill.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">And now Hinder is stuck in my head: "You deserve much better than me."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">*sighs* I want to be better. I don't know how. I'm too tired to want to know tonight. Tomorrow I'll wake up crying again like usual, but I'll have the strength to want again. That'll be good. </span></span></div></span>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-7331156325868775882009-08-18T21:36:00.000-07:002009-08-18T21:47:33.618-07:00Home?I'm "home" again... I'm really beginning to wonder if I'll ever find a stable place to call home.<div><br /></div><div>It's home here for the family, for Contra, for all the inside jokes. </div><div>It's home in Colorado for CleanPlace, for different inside jokes, for new family.</div><div>Home in Georgia for DioM, for even more inside jokes, for different family.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's home so many places it hurts</div><div>so many times that nothing will ever change.</div><div>Consistently torn down the middle,</div><div>misery eating the glue that holds me together.</div><div>But no matter where I run,</div><div>no matter where I turn to,</div><div>the moon always shines above, </div><div>the stars always turn.</div><div>Life keeps rolling by</div><div>no matter who I'm with,</div><div>no matter who I miss,</div><div>no matter who I've become.</div><div>I can wander through the mountains,</div><div>hide atop the trees,</div><div>swim in the ocean,</div><div>and know the deepest in me.</div><div>Yet the road doesn't end,</div><div>the forks continue to pierce</div><div>someone's heart to bleed</div><div>and not always my own. </div><div>When will we all be together,</div><div>when will you see me and I see you,</div><div>when will we fly like eagles,</div><div>when will we find home?</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-87966526474680567832009-07-17T11:48:00.001-07:002009-07-17T12:19:05.203-07:00ooo... Forest Guard!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i390.photobucket.com/albums/oo350/LarielLissi/About-Green.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 491px; height: 232px;" src="http://i390.photobucket.com/albums/oo350/LarielLissi/About-Green.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Green's coming out, guys! :D It's about time, no? Even more interesting news... Ted Dekker's started this amazing promotion at...<br /><br />http://forestguard.teddekker.com<br /><br />Our job is to gather recruits and earn points. After we join the Forest Guard, this is what our assignment looks like.<br /><br /><p> It’s pretty easy…here’s some things to know and do right away...</p> <p> </p><ol><li><strong>Email Updates:</strong> Add <a href="mailto:forestguard@gfnhq.com">forestguard@gfnhq.com</a> to your address book and watch for our email updates and also keep an eye on the “News” and “Special Missions” sections. We’ll give you new ideas for how you can be participating about once a week.</li><li><strong>Special Missions:</strong> Participate in the special missions we’ll be launching throughout this campaign. Check out the “Special Missions” page to read the latest on those and stay in the loop.</li><li><strong> Recruits:</strong> Learn about recruits under the “Recruits” page and find out why you should start finding your recruits right away. </li><li><strong> It’s Easy: </strong>Just do what you do naturally—talk to your friends and people in your community about Green and the Circle series. Read below to see how to use the cards we’ll send you.</li><li> <strong>Rewards: </strong>Check out the amazing rewards available to you for your efforts on the “Rewards” page. </li><li> <strong>Report back:</strong> Reports aren’t as intimidating as they sound…it takes about a minute to send in a report and a couple of clicks. Don’t worry…this isn’t like school. But we can’t reward you and give you credit for your work if you don’t tell us about everything you’re doing to get the word out. It’s really important that you go to “Earn My Points” all the time and send in reports about what you’ve done. All rewards will be decided based on your efforts and the points you’ve earned.</li><li><strong> It’s Up to You:</strong> Get creative and have fun! We know you have so many amazing ideas and know about things your friends love lots more than we do. We’re giving you the freedom to be as creative as you want to be.</li></ol>The whole creative thing is a relief, admittedly, because now I can drop on people's heads all I want. :D :P<br /><br /><h2>Your Primary Mission<em></em><strong></strong></h2><h2><strong>Your biggest mission as a Forest Guard member is to help us find new recruits. </strong></h2> <p> What’s a recruit? </p> <p> A recruit is a new reader of Green and the Circle series. </p> <p> Each time you find a new recruit, you need to get them to sign-up on the recruit page. When a new recruit signs-up, two things will happen:</p> <p> 1. They will receive exclusive offers on Green and other Ted Dekker books. </p> <p>2. You will receive 100 points towards the Forest Guard rewards for each new recruit who uses your Forest Guard number. </p> <p> <strong>IMPORTANT THINGS TO REMEMBER ABOUT RECRUITS:</strong><br /></p><p>1. Recruits must sign-up at <a href="http://teddekker.com/readgreen" target="_blank">http://teddekker.com/readgreen</a> in order to receive the special offers. </p> <p> 2. You will only get your 100 point credit for the recruits who use your Forest Guard number when they sign-up on that page, so be sure to tell everyone you influence to use your number. </p> <p> 3. Many of the Forest Guard rewards require that you get a certain number of recruits in order to qualify, so be sure to check out the rewards page to find out how many recruits you need based on what prize you hope to earn. </p><br />And of course, the rewards page is covered in gifs that I can't put onto my desktop, load to photobucket and put here. <_<>Rewards<em></em> <p><strong>BECOME A LIEUTENANT OR CAPTAIN IN THE FOREST GUARD:</strong></p> <p>Every Forest Guard will have the opportunity to earn the level of Lieutenant or Captain in the Forest Guard.</p> <p> <strong>HOW TO BECOME A LIEUTENANT: </strong></p> <blockquote> <p>You must receive 600 points including 5 recruits. (You get 100 points for every recruit.)</p><p><strong>HOW TO BECOME A CAPTAIN: </strong></p> <p>You must receive 2000 points including 15 recruits. (You get 100 points for every recruit.) </p> <p> <strong>HOW TO RECEIVE THE FOREST GUARD GRAND PRIZES :</strong><br />In order to qualify for the Grand Prize, Runner-Up prize, 3rd place and 4th place prizes, you must have at least 50 recruits. Prizes will then go to the hardest working person who has done the best job and has the most points. </p> </blockquote><br />Lieutenant: Emailed certificate of lieutenant status, your name in the next Ted Dekker book under the list of Lieutenants.<br />Captain: Emailed certificate of captain status, your name in the next Ted Dekker book under the list of Captains, an advanced copy of Dekker's next book.<br />Fourth place: Set of signed Circle series<br />Third place: Ted Dekker Merchandise super pack... (and there's a lot there, I just can't see what a few of the things are without my glasses... oops?)<br />Runner up: One of three swords, Ted Dekker Merchandise super pack<br />Grand prize: Ted Dekker Merchandise super pack, and lunch with Dekker in Austin (trip paid for)<br /><br />Time to throwdown the challenge... :P Come on. You know you want the shiny sword... ;) and it helps there are books involved...<br /><br />So go sign up as a recruit, then go join the Forest Guard. "And remember when you've nicked 'im, it was me what told you so" ;)<span style="font-weight: bold;"> 5684 and don't forget to tell me you joined, so I know who I'm racing against. :P</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102); font-weight: bold;"></span>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-46180638279253170702009-06-09T00:56:00.000-07:002009-06-09T01:43:47.880-07:00Life goes on...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i263.photobucket.com/albums/ii125/MysteriousTwinkie/Picture025.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 386px; height: 288px;" src="http://i263.photobucket.com/albums/ii125/MysteriousTwinkie/Picture025.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Okay, well, life changed quick here... Last post was May 21st. It is June 9th. I don't think I've ever been so thankful for a day to be over. And it wasn't what happened today, just purely the date itself in reference to the past.<br /><br />I'm now nineteen, practically senile. I have an extreme lack of hair now as seen in above picture (with Blue Monkey). I have been staying in Colorado Springs since Friday afternoon, and will be here until Saturday when Legolas and I head back to Punkin's.<br /><br />As was threatened, Saturday was my first CO minimoot. On the thirteenth, it will have been a year since I first came to CO to visit for Moot. It's so hard to believe it's been so long, but it's harder to believe it was only a year ago.<br /><br />And things have really changed.<br /><br />There's no roadwork up and down Powers, Academy, Austin Bluffs, or Carefree. You can go from the Panera to Pulpit Rock Church without seeing a single roadwork sign. There's snow on Pikes Peak, making it easy to distinguish the mountain from the hills surrounding when there's haze (hey, I don't ALWAYS wear my glasses like I should), and you can see the road up Pikes Peak from the top of the hill near Pulpit Rock, winding. I was able to point out the ridge where the Elf family's car broke down. I could also see the Incline, which I HAVE TO CLIMB... *is swallowing back drool at that challenge* *whistles innocently* Sorry... it's pure awesomeness. MUST CLIMB...<br /><br />But to top all of that off? The people...<br /><br />There were sixteen CPers at the minimoot. I knew ten from the Moot last year, the other six joined in the last year. In the last year: Nia was made Admin of CP, Twinkie is more confident in her abilities, Mangy took control of the Serious Talks forum, MOTS went off to Walt Disney World to work and came home again, Yellow Leader got ridiculously tall, Kryos looks his age, Blue Monkey and Dolphin got way too old, and the six CPers that joined us were: Tony Fritz, Frost, Bree, Anywhere, Celeris and Masque.<br /><br />As proof that nobody looks the same?<br /><br />http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1213256247&v=feed&story_fbid=233661840007#/photo.php?pid=1063095&op=1&o=global&view=global&subj=100000018931137&id=1169496687<br /><br />That is Blue Monkey and I at Moot. Garden of the Gods, June 14th. Compare with the first photo. I have pictures of the others from Moot and from the minimoot if that's not enough proof for you. :P<br /><br />Strangely enough, I spent most of my time around some of the people I really didn't spend a ton of time with at Moot: Kryos, Yellow Leader, and AngelJ. That was kind of a shock to me to realize I spent a ton of time around them that day, but hey, we had fun. Especially during Freeze. :D<br /><br />Sunday, Anywhere was with Mangy and I, then she left at about 11:30 that night to head back home.<br /><br />Monday... Have I mentioned how much I hate June 8th? It wasn't even a particularly distasteful day in the past. It's just one of those days... :P So Mangy and I spent practically all day on the computer, then turned on "The Lost Room" at about 10. We finished the first disc about 1:45 or so, then I came down here to be sure Anywhere and Daeriel had already gone to bed for the night. I give those two more trouble than they give me, granted, but as the oldest, I still check in. :P<br /><br />It's just terrifying to me at some points how everything has changed... but so little has at the same time...<br /><br />In order to make up for the lack of actual posts over the last couple months, I'll share the CP vlogs I did in April as well as one I featured in this Sunday evening. :P I hope you'll forgive my lack of activity eventually. My greatest apologies for the lousy sound... our kids camera was a pain to deal with. Not to mention these are my second, third, fourth, and fifth try at vid editing.<br /><br />In Date Order:<br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pXa1lnDjmM4 = April 8th<br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLirehtxhhk = April 15th<br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sosw5MUR7S0 = April 22nd<br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SU2lSTRr_V8 = April 29th<br /><br />And Mangy's vlog this week!<br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPe4py3Vrao<br /><br />So yeah. I'll try to do better about actually getting blog posts up. :P Love y'all!Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-76655484491294149222009-05-21T17:20:00.000-07:002009-05-22T15:44:02.290-07:00Life "as normal"So... what IS life like here?<br /><br />Well... Mondays we typically go to the library. Tuesdays we take Hayden into school, then drop by the grocery store on the way home from picking him up. Wednesdays we usually garden all afternoon. Thursdays and Fridays feel like repeats of Wednesdays. Saturdays Becca sleeps in. Sundays Anders sleeps in.<br /><br />So that's our basic weekly routine. Thursdays have also become breadbaking days. :P<br /><br />Hayden, Hailey, and Becca are sick. I was up nearly all last night, half-dead because of being so tired and being incapable of sleeping. When I did sleep, there were nightmares. :P Then Becca brought Hailey in to me and asked if I could get her to take a nap... it was about 11 at that point. I sort of laid there half dead and Hailey curled up against me and fell asleep. I didn't get up until 12:35, and when I did, I went upstairs, grabbed food, and turned on a movie. Becca was playing Unreal Tournament at that time and Hayden was occupied elsewhere. So we've watched two movies, cleaned up the living room and kitchen. I showered and Becca's making dinner.<br /><br />Tonight's the season premier of "So You Think You Can Dance"... Somehow I really feel like I'm getting my fill of inane tv shows as well as movies now. :P And on the subject of inane TV shows, Kris Allen should never have won Idol, but Adam Lambert will definitely do better in the music industry and get signed immediately anyway, so who cares? Oh, and Idol season 9 auditions are being held in:<br /><br /><span class="article-text"><p>Boston: Gillette Stadium</p> <p>Atlanta: Georgia Dome</p> <p>Chicago: United Center</p> <p>Dallas: Cowboys Stadium</p> <p>Los Angeles: Rose Bowl</p> <p>Orlando: Amway Arena</p> <p>Denver: INVESCO Field</p><p><br /></p><p>So did anybody besides me catch that last one? *whistles innocently* Hey, I never said I would make it, but I may as well try out with the other pitiful thousands just so I can say I did, if I'm still here by that point (Dates not decided yet). :P Thirty seconds of fame, and whatnot. *grin* Still, I would've liked to have done so with Elya or Daer or somebody, but I couldn't find any rules permitting (or denying) duets, and I don't know if she'll be here or not. :P And yes, I've already picked the song I have to sing a capella for a minute or less and no, it's not common at all that I know of. :P</p><p><br /></p>Speaking of songs, my new favorite lullaby of the month: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICUlBNrDUgk<br /><br /><br />Ho hum. Now I'm just rambling. :P So I'll let y'all go back to your happy existences.<br /></span>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-75150784702643149472009-04-21T12:22:00.000-07:002009-04-21T13:12:18.846-07:00The Last Week Of Life As We Know ItIt's a Tuesday. For some reason, Tuesdays aren't my best day of the week. Probably the highlight about this one is coffee and the anticipation of Raen's vlog. <div><br /></div><div>I'm now down to my final week to prepare. I have to be at the airport at 4:30 in the morning, so I essentially have this last week instead of an eighth day.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sorting all my music is taking a LOT longer than I had thought. I probably shouldn't have waited through the first two weeks, but I've never done this before... Oh well. :P </div><div><br /></div><div>Let's see... what else is there to ramble about? Yes, I really am trying not to freak out on you... it's psychotic here in my head... And I'm terrified that I'm not going to be able to do what I'm leaving to do, terrified that I'll stay here, terrified that I'll take too much, terrified that I'll leave something behind...</div><div><br /></div><div>This is pointless. :oops: I'm going to disappear now and hope you know what I'm talking about.</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-67288683578471010902009-04-06T17:22:00.000-07:002009-04-06T17:45:19.978-07:00I'm sorry. I really am.I've spoken to some of you, and I realize that the walls around me aren't just hurting me and keeping me from healing, but they're also hurting you. I really never meant to hurt you.<div><br /></div><div>For an example, I know that for awhile now, one of my friends that I consider to be practically a sister has been going through a rough time and she burdens herself unnecessarily. (You know it's true...) Whenever she gets on, I try to avoid really talking to her, afraid I'll make it worse. Well, that fear has begun keeping me from TRYING to be there for people. I failed her, never even doing so much as giving her a hug and telling her I love her and I'm praying for her.</div><div><br /></div><div>So this is an apology, an official one... to my Valier, my Angels, even the ones I've never named aloud, to all my friends. Daer, Ema, Raen, Matt, Mar, Tel, Obi, Legolas, everyone... I'm really truly sorry.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm so sorry for shutting you out. I really do love you, and I know I failed you by not even trying to reach out to you. I'm sorry for not talking to you about what was going on with me, I'm sorry for not talking about what was going on with you. I'm sorry for splitting us so far apart, for killing the Lissë you knew. The walls are going to take time to come down. And I realize you probably don't have the time to want to try to put up with me all over again. But I do want to be there for you... if you want me to come home, I will. I really do love you, and I really am so sorry.</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-74418185204090305852009-04-05T09:56:00.000-07:002009-04-05T10:28:04.125-07:00Lost Inside The Walls You've BuiltSeventh Day Slumber ~ "Missing Pages"<div>Hawk Nelson ~ "Somebody Else"</div><div><br /></div><div>This is my world today... "No one knows you anymore, you're lost inside the walls you've built." "I used to be somebody else, I'm holding out for a good reason. The people around me, they all seem to tell me that I tend to change like the seasons..."</div><div><br /></div><div>Are my walls really all that wrong? I'm protecting my friends from the ones who can't take what lies inside, keeping myself safe for their sakes. </div><div><br /></div><div>There's a reason I sharpie my hair, a reason I write love on my arms. It vents the monster out, keeping the ocean of bitter words from drowning me and mine alive. They are the sandbags that build the wall of protection around the people I love. The walls keep the monster down.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't want to be who I was. I may have been happy, I may have been free. But I hurt people beyond reckoning. I was a jerk and a selfish brat, always running far away from anything that ever hurt me. </div><div><br /></div><div>If I let those walls down, who's to say that the monster won't eat them alive? I face the monster down and tell it I'm loved and cared for every single night, and when I get up in the morning I wrap myself up in the knowledge that I'm wanted and needed and I'm HUMAN, not the monster I stare at. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm that lost inside the walls, but if the walls come down... the monster comes out. Just bear with me while I climb on top of this labyrinth.</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-33350555761070414742009-03-28T20:11:00.000-07:002009-03-28T20:21:43.939-07:00**Lay down your sweet and weary head.<div>Night is falling, you have come to journey's end.</div><div>Sleep now and dream of the ones who came before.</div><div>They are calling from across the distant shore.</div><div>Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face?</div><div>Soon you will see all of your fears will pass away.</div><div>Safe in my arms, you're only sleeping</div><div>What can you see on the horizon?</div><div>Why do the white gulls call?</div><div>Across the sea, a pale moon rises.</div><div>The ships have come to carry you home.</div><div>And all will turn to silver glass,</div><div>a light on the water, all souls pass.</div><div>Hope fades into the world of night</div><div>through shadows falling out of memory and time.</div><div>Don't say we have come now to the end. </div><div>White shores are calling, you and I will meet again</div><div>and you'll be here in my arms, just sleeping.</div><div>What can you see on the horizon?</div><div>Why do the white gulls call?</div><div>Across the sea, a pale moon rises.</div><div>The ships have come to carry you home.</div><div>And all will turn to silver glass.</div><div>A light on the water, grey ships pass</div><div>into the West.</div><div><br /></div><div>Im meleth le, van Oré Vala nîn. Always and Forever. No matter what.</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-49640193279138850192009-03-23T18:38:00.001-07:002009-03-23T18:58:18.052-07:00My Life Be LikeYeah... some days are like this... I suppose it's to be expected of life. But there are days. <div><br /></div><div>ooh ahh ooh ooh...</div><div>It's times like these that make me say</div><div>lord if you see me please come my way</div><div>leavin bread crumbs for when I stray</div><div>rely on sacrifice and the price you paid</div><div>feel me like a fingertip</div><div>sometimes I fall I slip</div><div>my heartfelt desire to be more like you</div><div>tryin not to quench your fire by the things that I do</div><div><br /></div><div>on a island by my lonesome stranded</div><div>low key and stayin candid</div><div>reflect on all the things I try my hand at</div><div>search for the equations to persuasions I'm used to</div><div>findin comfort in the zones of closet bones I get loose to</div><div>a mountainous fontaine</div><div>spinnin and monsoonin</div><div>grinnin it's high octane</div><div>explosive how I came</div><div>rollin down hills cause life's a hassle</div><div>encircled by my folly like a moat surrounds a castle</div><div>stay afloat catch a second wind</div><div>thin is the air I breathe</div><div>teary eyed nose runnin</div><div>wipe the snot on my sleeve</div><div>I'm callin on my savior to be all that I need</div><div>please forgive me</div><div>my behavior had me lost at light speed</div><div><br /></div><div>the fear of never fallin in love</div><div>and the tears after losin the feelings </div><div>of what you thought love was</div><div>like the dirt still up under the rug</div><div>bad characteristics</div><div>covered in Christ's blood</div><div>the joy of new birth </div><div>and the pain of growing up</div><div>the bliss between givin my all</div><div>and givin up</div><div>the highs and lows </div><div>paths and roads I chose</div><div>in the cold I froze</div><div>tryin to ease my woes</div><div>in this world of sin</div><div>clothes too thin to fend</div><div>so to God I send</div><div>words of help to win</div><div>in grumblings so deep </div><div>letters could never express</div><div>so the sound of ooh ahh </div><div>beneath my breath projects...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>As you can tell... it kind of fits my whole month thus far... </div><div><br /></div><div>*rubs neck* I wish I was stronger, sometimes... like maybe I wouldn't break down over nothing... </div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-246058679820218862009-03-22T09:15:00.000-07:002009-03-22T09:21:43.876-07:00To Tag Friends In Pictures On FacebookOkay, so I know I probably overcomplicate this. We have a series of pics going around where there are like twenty or thirty characters in each pic and we tag a friend for each...<div><br /></div><div>Well, as you can imagine, I'm struggling a lot with this... It's driving me crazy. It takes me forever to actually get around to doing anything when it comes to tagging photos like this... I have five on my desktop. Just now getting started with the Super Smash Bros. Brawl pics. </div><div><br /></div><div>I put so much thought into these... and chances are they'll turn out all wrong. </div><div><br /></div><div>So feel free to laugh at me. :P I don't mind. </div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-77275426349038033342009-03-18T19:46:00.000-07:002009-03-18T20:27:24.251-07:00Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan.Translation: And safe for aye may my darling be.<div><br /></div><div>My prayer for all my friends tonight.</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4667042891369207827.post-53018813387161310232009-03-11T09:50:00.000-07:002009-03-11T10:20:17.412-07:00Recalling the factsYeah, it's true. I temporarily forget several important things. First of all, the fact that I'm Sane has not crossed my mind in three years. The reminder that I wanted to race in NASCAR once only comes up once a week, and even then it's like, "oh yeah, didn't I want to do that someday? oops"<div><br /></div><div>Oh yeah, and I forget I'm a teenage girl. </div><div><br /></div><div>Seriously. I remember being human. I do. I remember being female in the gender sense. But in terms of personality, I cannot remember that I'm a teenage girl. Yakking on the phone is not a fun thing, it's a communication device to be taken and used at will. Brushing out hair in the morning is not a "how do I intend to style this to reflect my personality?", it is a "meh, this is getting too long again to be functionally useful. I wonder if getting it cut a tad shorter with more layers would keep it from getting in my way for a little while longer?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Today, the fact is impossible to avoid. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wake up. I have my black tank top on with SPARKLES everywhere! I love this shirt. Well, it's in the fifties out, and I want something on my arms. So I tie on the removable sleeves from my homemade 'ren-esque' dress to the straps of my tank top. Nice big flares on my jeans. And pink stripes in my hair that are fading to a strawberry color. I hate getting up in the mornings when I feel lousy, so makeup usually helps. Concealer is thrown on and glitter is sparkled over my cheeks and on my eyelids. Better.</div><div><br /></div><div>Still doing iffy. Get up. Talk to a friend for awhile. Feel better. :woot: </div><div><br /></div><div>Then I'm bored. So I watch an anime while talking to an adopted older brother. I quote: </div><div>he: researches death ray prices</div><div>me: WHY?!</div><div>he: It'll only kill moths... probably... pop balloons and light matches...</div><div>me: looks like I might be in trouble then.</div><div>he: are you a moth? a match? a balloon? no.</div><div>me: yup.</div><div>he: you are also my little sister and therefore my evil powers will be used to protect you.</div><div><br /></div><div>I read the above line at the same time the main male lead character says to the MC: "Never forget that you're a girl!" (he's scolding her about being reckless)</div><div><br /></div><div>The reminders today that I'm a teenage girl and supposedly pretty helpless are everywhere. Oh joy. Oh rapture. Would you mind terribly if I sped through this next year to get to my twentieth birthday? *bile rises at that thought* Nevermind. I'm going BACK in time to my TWELFTH birthday and staying there. And I'm taking my friends with me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mlek. I hate this cough. Perhaps I should change that to *phlegm rises*.</div><div><br /></div><div>The facts: 18, almost 19. Sick. Starved to death for the bacon Mom's cooking. In desperate need of a solution to this story I've been writing. Teenage girl. Hardly helpless.</div><div><br /></div><div>The miracles: Many. The first and not last was today, a dear friend returned home after running away, and she found Him. :D The Lord is good and faithful.</div>Lisshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809156029559982735noreply@blogger.com0