So...
I came to America, right? And landed myself some good friends. Two of them eventually hooked up. All of us still hangout, thanks to the fact that we all know each other. NO changes there. But i have two other friends who are still single, beside me. I know both of them are looking, but for the right one. I see that. But sometimes, i feel so selfish. I get so afraid that things will start changing among us as a group. I didn't realize that i was being very selfish by hanging out with them too much. Rob Mahto was giving a bible study about LOVE yesterday and Jesus is the ultimate example of a life that overflows with love. And here am i, a little afraid about some changes that are BOUND to happen eventually anyway. I can't stop life from happening. HOWEVER, I can stop my life from being self-seeking.
So...
Change Happens, right? Let it be! Change is growth. and Growth is good. Good friends are for always, and have no conditions, no excuses. We say this is a cliche, something we hear everyday. But are we truly listening? It will be a growing experience for all of us. I think I need to start opening up the circle, and invite MORE good Christian men and women into it. and Maybe,just maybe my close friends could find their soul mates through positive, and healthy interaction. One of my close friends told me that I am an initiator. I start things up, and they help me execute them. And they were talking about me setting up events for them to get to know more people. I struggled with this because i'm not exactly liking the idea of having to host 20 people all at once, all the time! I like the quiet 5. But now that i know they actually depend on me to organize things like these...what exactly am i doing with that? On the one hand, I felt a little sulky. Why on earth do I have to initiate this? on the other hand, Why am i NOT initiating activities and meetings that matter?! I feel like i visit with them and talk with them, whenever i NEED them (a shoulder to cry on, an ear to vent, a place to chill). What about what they need? What about what God wants from us? From me? To sort out my frustrations, What I need is a game plan.
So...
I'm thinking healthy interaction, right? And here are some ideas. To always remain as a group is a great idea. But what can we do as a group? I want to make sure there is opportunity for conversations. 1) Bible studies: It's always, ALWAYS a great idea to learn more about God, to grow together in our faith and to live out Daily Christ-like lives - lives that please God. 2) Coffee & Tea Sessions at Cantabria (Bemidji's Starbucks): That has always encouraged great get-to-know-you conversations. 3) Camping// Weekend trips: Short weekend campouts to learn cooperation and team work. 4) Volunteering: Maybe we should all sign up to volunteer to do something at an old folk's home, children's hospital, homeless program, soup kitchen, etc. This can encourage us to serve others, or at least constantly think about what we can do for someone else. 5) Picnics//Grill outs: Food and friends are always a great combo for convo. *chuckles* today's phrase that pays, that one. 6) ...
So...
I can't think of a sixth idea now, right? But it'll be okay. I feel like i am pretty set for at least the next couple of months. I've never had to worry about the relationships of my friends before. But since this is what has been brought up to me, and although i am as clueless as fogged up glass after a hot shower, I will take on this challenge. What they do with the opportunities created will be up to them entirely. Hero, we want to live out lives you can be proud of. Help us to live worthy of your calling and glory. Keep us dreaming up your vision, so that we won't walk aimless, egocentrical or dead.
Teach us to live.
Showing posts with label questions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label questions. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
To you.
There's a whole lot to me than what i tend to let surface. One cannot truly engage in conversations of desires and identity out of hues of blue. One waits for the right time. And that time did not come. Perhaps it never will.
There's not much you or I need to know about who i was, who i am or who i want to be - because i am not defined by all that -- not even by my name. not anymore.
My name does have some form of bearing to my life and legacy here on earth. But what is in a name? Countless times i've failed it's meaning. Countless times i've acted adversely out of spite, immaturity and folly. What is my name? Do I really want it to matter to you? You, who've walked with me through all shapes of my sorrow and grief. and you, who've shared my laughter in times of childishness. Or you, who've sat with me under the tree of imagination and dreamed of higher heights no human have yet tread.
My identity now lies in someone more wonderful than I. He gave so much to be with me. So i choose him. And he will always take precedence in my life.
So no, i'm not interested in any other person, any external relationship, any developing bond that may threaten to sever this budding tie and usher me into distraction, into the comatose.
I cannot yet engage myself in another. Not till i'm ready. Not yet, not now. For i have awakened from twilight's tight grasp and have now seen the sun at the end of that tunnel. I will not turn back. You can't make me.
True, i may meet someone on my way out of that tunnel. But it is not Now. And you are Now. Therefore, things cannot be.
There's just very little time. Too little, in fact. It's too early for me to be wandering about sorting issues of companionship.You'll find someone who is and will be ready for you.
But i am not. I come through those doors later. You finish before me.We are still running our races simultaneously. But Parallel and not Together. You will always be a cherished brother.
Fret not. Our hearts are made up of more than just cells and tissues, and it pumps and works with more than just blood or its platelets.
I can only hope you understand, dear old friend. I can only hope.
Sincerely,
Phoebe Lee Mathius
p/s Phoebe : radiance
There's not much you or I need to know about who i was, who i am or who i want to be - because i am not defined by all that -- not even by my name. not anymore.
My name does have some form of bearing to my life and legacy here on earth. But what is in a name? Countless times i've failed it's meaning. Countless times i've acted adversely out of spite, immaturity and folly. What is my name? Do I really want it to matter to you? You, who've walked with me through all shapes of my sorrow and grief. and you, who've shared my laughter in times of childishness. Or you, who've sat with me under the tree of imagination and dreamed of higher heights no human have yet tread.
My identity now lies in someone more wonderful than I. He gave so much to be with me. So i choose him. And he will always take precedence in my life.
So no, i'm not interested in any other person, any external relationship, any developing bond that may threaten to sever this budding tie and usher me into distraction, into the comatose.
I cannot yet engage myself in another. Not till i'm ready. Not yet, not now. For i have awakened from twilight's tight grasp and have now seen the sun at the end of that tunnel. I will not turn back. You can't make me.
True, i may meet someone on my way out of that tunnel. But it is not Now. And you are Now. Therefore, things cannot be.
There's just very little time. Too little, in fact. It's too early for me to be wandering about sorting issues of companionship.You'll find someone who is and will be ready for you.
But i am not. I come through those doors later. You finish before me.We are still running our races simultaneously. But Parallel and not Together. You will always be a cherished brother.
Fret not. Our hearts are made up of more than just cells and tissues, and it pumps and works with more than just blood or its platelets.
I can only hope you understand, dear old friend. I can only hope.
Sincerely,
Phoebe Lee Mathius
p/s Phoebe : radiance
Thursday, April 2, 2009
The Alien Autistic
This is my latest assignment guys!
I am not happy with the text graphics during the poetry slam, but i totally lost hours of work when the software crashed on me. I was running out of time, so i decided to just do a mess of sample fonts/styles.
My professor just told me to keep working on it so that i can submit it for Fall's fargo's film fest. But he needs to check on competition rules and formats before we move ahead with this extracurricular project!
P/s i won another small scholarship. The first was from a Roy Blackwood. and now, i won something from Sullivan. I hope to hear from Milowski soon. Thanks Hero, for helping me find favor with the people behind the considerations.
I am not happy with the text graphics during the poetry slam, but i totally lost hours of work when the software crashed on me. I was running out of time, so i decided to just do a mess of sample fonts/styles.
My professor just told me to keep working on it so that i can submit it for Fall's fargo's film fest. But he needs to check on competition rules and formats before we move ahead with this extracurricular project!
P/s i won another small scholarship. The first was from a Roy Blackwood. and now, i won something from Sullivan. I hope to hear from Milowski soon. Thanks Hero, for helping me find favor with the people behind the considerations.
Friday, February 20, 2009
I cried.
I'd just gotten off from a sob fest.
('twas only for a few seconds, but still.... i never knew i was capable of being such an emotional girl.)
I never knew i would have it in me to just burst into tears, gab-smack in the middle of a song - with no warning too.
well, there was SOME warning. it was this swelling swirl in my chest that grew and grew and ...I never could tell what it was. When it finally peaked, out came niagra falls!
(I laugh sheepishly at myself as i type this. and some of you may even be having a field day with this.)
but what you need to know is that there are several causes to this [phoe]nomenon, of course.
one must first look at the song that i was listening to.
The song had caused me to feel this burdened sense of nostalgia... i remembered listening to it during a certain tough period of waiting and direction in my life. And it's a wonder how far I've come. How God led me through, step by step, phase by phase...word for word.
As i listened, what i experienced for the most part, was the feeling of relief that that time has already past. And that there was nothing to fear. But on the other hand, I've also been feeling burdened for the future. What specifically, i do not know...yet. A spiritual battle, really. But my hero, i know, will be there to save the day! No matter how battered or wounded we are from the battle, I know i will see him riding towards the bloodied field with the strongest army you will ever live to see!
Yes, I see a storm cloud looming up ahead. And i cannot help but feel my heart sinking; remembering the last time i've had to go through this. But the sunlight is still reflecting its intensity on my sword, the battle is still raging. We WILL grow from this. Whatever it is. Whatever that is coming.
My hero, lover and friend has made me ready. I await with bated breath.
('twas only for a few seconds, but still.... i never knew i was capable of being such an emotional girl.)
I never knew i would have it in me to just burst into tears, gab-smack in the middle of a song - with no warning too.
well, there was SOME warning. it was this swelling swirl in my chest that grew and grew and ...I never could tell what it was. When it finally peaked, out came niagra falls!
(I laugh sheepishly at myself as i type this. and some of you may even be having a field day with this.)
but what you need to know is that there are several causes to this [phoe]nomenon, of course.
one must first look at the song that i was listening to.
The song had caused me to feel this burdened sense of nostalgia... i remembered listening to it during a certain tough period of waiting and direction in my life. And it's a wonder how far I've come. How God led me through, step by step, phase by phase...word for word.
As i listened, what i experienced for the most part, was the feeling of relief that that time has already past. And that there was nothing to fear. But on the other hand, I've also been feeling burdened for the future. What specifically, i do not know...yet. A spiritual battle, really. But my hero, i know, will be there to save the day! No matter how battered or wounded we are from the battle, I know i will see him riding towards the bloodied field with the strongest army you will ever live to see!
Yes, I see a storm cloud looming up ahead. And i cannot help but feel my heart sinking; remembering the last time i've had to go through this. But the sunlight is still reflecting its intensity on my sword, the battle is still raging. We WILL grow from this. Whatever it is. Whatever that is coming.
My hero, lover and friend has made me ready. I await with bated breath.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Oh, Phanuel!
My little autistic brother, whom i love so ever, ever MUCH, has found a new craze!
Check it out! It's adorable!
Remember how he loves dinosaurs and animated cartoons? Well, this is perfect for him! Although my younger sister, Parmena, thinks it's annoying. I can see how it can be for us "grown-ups". Or rather, should we call ourselves "growING-ups"?
Can we ever fully achieve maturity? I say, no.
Love you, Phanuel. You'll be one of the greats someday, leaving behind an amazing legacy for the world to exemplify!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
When Wednesday Met Thursday
Darkness.
...was all I could see when Wednesday met Thursday. My timepiece indicated an incredibly foreign hour of the morning. Couldn't really understand my body's enthusiasm to meet the day. Neither could i comprehend why an ingenius and divine concept, such as sleep, could ever be this elusive. Pure in-
Sanity.
...is what I have in moderate amounts these days. A shame, that. 'Tis sanity that keeps most of us afloat, even in the most deplorable of conditions. And this very same trait, I lack. Retarded, i seem to be, for the better part of the day; and all thanks to the tiny men at war in my already delirious grey matter. Why all the strife, you ask? I'll never really know for sure, but i have some -
Ideas.
...Conformity, for one. To feel safe, to belong and all that balderdash. We've been taught to follow things blindly and we've all wound up stuck in waist-deep sludge. I sullenly watch as my fingers drummed the table in an unsettled fashion. Still uncertain. Did the muck around me ooze out from my very own pores? Or was it just there all along, waiting innocently for some poor cretin to step in it, yell a string of inaudible curses - break into melancholy song ( i.e. Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen) and contemplate suicide simultaneously, whilst painfully submerging into the bottomless, tar-like puddle at a disgraceful rate of one centimeter per minute? Either way, I only have myself to blame for being here. Nevertheless, everything in me, the very essence that survives me, cries out to escape the System, to be my own person, to be contrary; different to the reeking normalcy of today's stale-tuna-sandwich culture. Tiny men at war in my head. Conformity Vs. Individuality. The bugle has sounded. The battle is -
ON.
...The bold word returned my blank gaze. I'd been fumbling around in the dark and a bump or two later, the lights had flickered on, swallowing the darkness that once engulfed my personal space. I remained in the deafening silence, eyes still getting accustomed to the shocking brightness that now illuminated every nook and cranny. My finger, still on the switch, lay motionless; frozen-like; as I stood stupefied at the single-syllabled word: ON. Right below was it's regal antonym, in similar print. OFF. ON.
OFF.
ON.
...How feeble our faith. How feeble our lives. How great the Creator.
OFF.
ON.
OFF.
Darkness.
... was all I could see when Wednesday met Thursday, and when Thursday met Friday, when life met death, when train met tunnel. Just spaces void of -
Light.
... was all I could see as the tunnel approached its end - when life met eternity, when men met God.
-Written in 2006
-By Phoebe Lee Mathius
...was all I could see when Wednesday met Thursday. My timepiece indicated an incredibly foreign hour of the morning. Couldn't really understand my body's enthusiasm to meet the day. Neither could i comprehend why an ingenius and divine concept, such as sleep, could ever be this elusive. Pure in-
Sanity.
...is what I have in moderate amounts these days. A shame, that. 'Tis sanity that keeps most of us afloat, even in the most deplorable of conditions. And this very same trait, I lack. Retarded, i seem to be, for the better part of the day; and all thanks to the tiny men at war in my already delirious grey matter. Why all the strife, you ask? I'll never really know for sure, but i have some -
Ideas.
...Conformity, for one. To feel safe, to belong and all that balderdash. We've been taught to follow things blindly and we've all wound up stuck in waist-deep sludge. I sullenly watch as my fingers drummed the table in an unsettled fashion. Still uncertain. Did the muck around me ooze out from my very own pores? Or was it just there all along, waiting innocently for some poor cretin to step in it, yell a string of inaudible curses - break into melancholy song ( i.e. Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen) and contemplate suicide simultaneously, whilst painfully submerging into the bottomless, tar-like puddle at a disgraceful rate of one centimeter per minute? Either way, I only have myself to blame for being here. Nevertheless, everything in me, the very essence that survives me, cries out to escape the System, to be my own person, to be contrary; different to the reeking normalcy of today's stale-tuna-sandwich culture. Tiny men at war in my head. Conformity Vs. Individuality. The bugle has sounded. The battle is -
ON.
...The bold word returned my blank gaze. I'd been fumbling around in the dark and a bump or two later, the lights had flickered on, swallowing the darkness that once engulfed my personal space. I remained in the deafening silence, eyes still getting accustomed to the shocking brightness that now illuminated every nook and cranny. My finger, still on the switch, lay motionless; frozen-like; as I stood stupefied at the single-syllabled word: ON. Right below was it's regal antonym, in similar print. OFF. ON.
OFF.
ON.
...How feeble our faith. How feeble our lives. How great the Creator.
OFF.
ON.
OFF.
Darkness.
... was all I could see when Wednesday met Thursday, and when Thursday met Friday, when life met death, when train met tunnel. Just spaces void of -
Light.
... was all I could see as the tunnel approached its end - when life met eternity, when men met God.
-Written in 2006
-By Phoebe Lee Mathius
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Her Morning Elegance - Oren Lavie
Another cool video to check out!
"Oren Lavie is a songwriter, director, writer of funny books for sad children. Born in Tel-Aviv, Israel. He has long curly hair, green eyes, cold feet. Known to daydream on many an occasion.
He has written and directed several plays in London’s Off-West End and NY off-Broadway.
His play ‘Lighting The Day’ was named by the London Time Out magazine one of the top 5 plays in London during its run. He won several scholarships and awards as a playwright and director, was a member of Manhattan Classic Company’s playwright coalition.
He likes to create dreamy visuals from realistic elements, he enjoys squeezing big worlds into small spaces.
As a songwriter he produced his debut album ‘The Opposite Side of The Sea’ which he released in 2008 on his own label, being that nobody else was going to release it.
He loves animation but can’t draw a straight line to save his life.
This video is his first venture into the Moving Pictures."
Excerpt taken from:
http://www.myspace.com/orenlavie
www.orenlavie.com
"Oren Lavie is a songwriter, director, writer of funny books for sad children. Born in Tel-Aviv, Israel. He has long curly hair, green eyes, cold feet. Known to daydream on many an occasion.
He has written and directed several plays in London’s Off-West End and NY off-Broadway.
His play ‘Lighting The Day’ was named by the London Time Out magazine one of the top 5 plays in London during its run. He won several scholarships and awards as a playwright and director, was a member of Manhattan Classic Company’s playwright coalition.
He likes to create dreamy visuals from realistic elements, he enjoys squeezing big worlds into small spaces.
As a songwriter he produced his debut album ‘The Opposite Side of The Sea’ which he released in 2008 on his own label, being that nobody else was going to release it.
He loves animation but can’t draw a straight line to save his life.
This video is his first venture into the Moving Pictures."
Excerpt taken from:
http://www.myspace.com/orenlavie
www.orenlavie.com
Are you not Mine?
These dreams I'm having
Are not mine
These doubts that control
Do not belong
This joy I’ve found
Is not for keeping
This love I've stumbled upon
Cannot be owned.
I cannot hold you
Even though I want to
I cannot hide you away
I am in deep greed of your attentions
That sometimes I think
if the rest of the world should fall away
that'd be okay.
Gah, the tribulations of
my human soul.
my Human, flawed...
self-absorbed soul.
Why do I keep you
I know why i want you
but why do i hold you
clenched in a fist
strangling what you can do
with me.
gah.
gah.
GAH.
Are not mine
These doubts that control
Do not belong
This joy I’ve found
Is not for keeping
This love I've stumbled upon
Cannot be owned.
I cannot hold you
Even though I want to
I cannot hide you away
I am in deep greed of your attentions
That sometimes I think
if the rest of the world should fall away
that'd be okay.
Gah, the tribulations of
my human soul.
my Human, flawed...
self-absorbed soul.
Why do I keep you
I know why i want you
but why do i hold you
clenched in a fist
strangling what you can do
with me.
gah.
gah.
GAH.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Nothing
A new song I wrote. Music by Haeman Teo.
http://album.timothylarson.com/displayimage.php?pos=-2584
(click to listen)
The constant nagging of quiet surrender
persistent pelting of silent thoughts
who knows what goes on behind the eyes of another?
smiles and tears; clues are all we've got
Hidden dreams that are lost forever
Forbidden bonds that are hard to sever
But what do we do with our displaced observations?
Shake our heads in deep frustration?
We've nothing more than what we've brought
What we have is what we've got
Nothing less than who we are
Stop being something we're not.
'Cause we build and break
and break and build
And we try and try to be free but still
Remain in invisible screens
Like movies in gray
http://album.timothylarson.com/displayimage.php?pos=-2584
(click to listen)
The constant nagging of quiet surrender
persistent pelting of silent thoughts
who knows what goes on behind the eyes of another?
smiles and tears; clues are all we've got
Hidden dreams that are lost forever
Forbidden bonds that are hard to sever
But what do we do with our displaced observations?
Shake our heads in deep frustration?
We've nothing more than what we've brought
What we have is what we've got
Nothing less than who we are
Stop being something we're not.
'Cause we build and break
and break and build
And we try and try to be free but still
Remain in invisible screens
Like movies in gray
Monday, March 31, 2008
What have I accomplished?
It's crazy how time passes. It's the end of March, as it is. Didn't we just celebrate the new year?
I turned 22, two thursdays ago. (I received some pretty wacky gifts, by the way and will blog about them sometime soon.) But where did all my years go? What, on purple earth, have i been doing? I don't so much as HAVE bragging rights to having completed...ANYTHING!
I'm supposed to be leaving for America this Fall. Fall seemed so far away a couple of months back. But now... it's a measely 5 months away. 5 months and I'm leaving. How did it become so soon?
It scares me how i'm never really in control of my life. Especially the timeline. I mean, sure, i can plan. Hardly anything goes my way though. I don't wanna just be the spectator. I wanna be etching milestones and planting them at every mile. I wanna be leaving a legacy....proper!
If i die today, would i ever be able to live with myself-in-the-eternal-realm knowing that all I've done was watch time pass me by?
I feel like I'm running out of time - and at most times, i feel like i am THIS close to hitting the "panic" button. and just...
...screaming.
...screaming.
and
...SCREAMING.
Nevertheless, no matter how inadequate i am at running my life, it is a blessed assurance to know that I have a Hero who's watching my back. Never let me go.
Currently, listening to: "Jesus, take the wheel." - Kerry Underwood
I turned 22, two thursdays ago. (I received some pretty wacky gifts, by the way and will blog about them sometime soon.) But where did all my years go? What, on purple earth, have i been doing? I don't so much as HAVE bragging rights to having completed...ANYTHING!
I'm supposed to be leaving for America this Fall. Fall seemed so far away a couple of months back. But now... it's a measely 5 months away. 5 months and I'm leaving. How did it become so soon?
It scares me how i'm never really in control of my life. Especially the timeline. I mean, sure, i can plan. Hardly anything goes my way though. I don't wanna just be the spectator. I wanna be etching milestones and planting them at every mile. I wanna be leaving a legacy....proper!
If i die today, would i ever be able to live with myself-in-the-eternal-realm knowing that all I've done was watch time pass me by?
I feel like I'm running out of time - and at most times, i feel like i am THIS close to hitting the "panic" button. and just...
...screaming.
...screaming.
and
...SCREAMING.
Nevertheless, no matter how inadequate i am at running my life, it is a blessed assurance to know that I have a Hero who's watching my back. Never let me go.
Currently, listening to: "Jesus, take the wheel." - Kerry Underwood
Friday, January 25, 2008
Don't Know Why I Didn't Come
It's definitely too late for apologies so i shan't bother. I wasn't here for Christmas and neither was I for New Year's. Sue me.
Decembers have always been and always will be my most occupied time of the year. And if it were a race, my Januaries would come in second. But i'm not being read for my daft excuses as to how busy I was the past couple of months, neither am i being read for my boo-hoo reasons of why i shouldn't have even started a blog anyway due to my severe lack of discipline for it.
Come to think of it, I have no idea why i'm still being read. (Using this opportunity to thank the two of you who log on religiously to get your daily supply of Pocket Tissues.) All I know is, it's a new year.
Gosh, I have to let that sink in. It's a new year!
Too late to mourn for lost time, too late to make resolutions, too late for apologies. What's my new year good for? At least, that was the exasperating question that has been swirling off the top of my cranium for the past few days. It isn't anymore.
I have been suffering gastiritis for the past week. That's what the doc said anyway. Well technically, no. He suspected indisgestion, but experienced buddies told me that it was really gastric pains that was sending my stomach AWOL. Nothing Actal pills couldn't cure though.
*whispers*
I've always just suspected that it was an insurgence of little purple smurfs, having the time of their lives just hacking away at the walls of my fragile stomach.
It's my stomach. I have a say too.
But going through the pain for a week, I felt almost robbed of my time. There was just so much i wanted to do, but i was so restricted by my cage of pain then that all i could do was just sit around and be sick all day. I couldn't so much as breathe without aching. i resolved to thinking instead. Brilliant idea, right?
Wrong.
"What's the new year for then?" I interrogate myself. Do i feel any 'newer'? Do I forget mistakes of the past and press on with much valor only to make new ones? And if one is allowed to be sarcastic, the purpose of the new year would be: EXASPERATION. Hah!
Truthfully, I think I'm just tired at the fact that I'm human. I'm exhausted at the thought of making my kajillionth mistake for the kajillionth time! But then again, who isn't tired? Why be like everybody else? Why be tired? Why be human for that matter?
Blah.
So yeah, gastric-smurfaritis does that to people. It causes you to think of things you really don't want to. they cause you to make heavy attempts at answering rhetorical questions. They cause you to think like the loneliest, and the most insignificant person on the planet - and then when it leaves....
.....Hoho, if the bleeding pain ever leaves, it leaves you in want... in the sickening desire to actually have answers to impossible questions.
Sigh.
I miss being human in my innocence. I miss being able to be human and still dream. I miss being human and the ability to be reckless.
Lord, help me learn from my mistakes. Not cower behind the fact that I've done them and suffered the ugly consequences.
Lord, help me live.
Lord, I can't wait for the Switchfoot concert!
So, what's my new year for?
Decembers have always been and always will be my most occupied time of the year. And if it were a race, my Januaries would come in second. But i'm not being read for my daft excuses as to how busy I was the past couple of months, neither am i being read for my boo-hoo reasons of why i shouldn't have even started a blog anyway due to my severe lack of discipline for it.
Come to think of it, I have no idea why i'm still being read. (Using this opportunity to thank the two of you who log on religiously to get your daily supply of Pocket Tissues.) All I know is, it's a new year.
Gosh, I have to let that sink in. It's a new year!
Too late to mourn for lost time, too late to make resolutions, too late for apologies. What's my new year good for? At least, that was the exasperating question that has been swirling off the top of my cranium for the past few days. It isn't anymore.
I have been suffering gastiritis for the past week. That's what the doc said anyway. Well technically, no. He suspected indisgestion, but experienced buddies told me that it was really gastric pains that was sending my stomach AWOL. Nothing Actal pills couldn't cure though.
*whispers*
I've always just suspected that it was an insurgence of little purple smurfs, having the time of their lives just hacking away at the walls of my fragile stomach.
It's my stomach. I have a say too.
But going through the pain for a week, I felt almost robbed of my time. There was just so much i wanted to do, but i was so restricted by my cage of pain then that all i could do was just sit around and be sick all day. I couldn't so much as breathe without aching. i resolved to thinking instead. Brilliant idea, right?
Wrong.
"What's the new year for then?" I interrogate myself. Do i feel any 'newer'? Do I forget mistakes of the past and press on with much valor only to make new ones? And if one is allowed to be sarcastic, the purpose of the new year would be: EXASPERATION. Hah!
Truthfully, I think I'm just tired at the fact that I'm human. I'm exhausted at the thought of making my kajillionth mistake for the kajillionth time! But then again, who isn't tired? Why be like everybody else? Why be tired? Why be human for that matter?
Blah.
So yeah, gastric-smurfaritis does that to people. It causes you to think of things you really don't want to. they cause you to make heavy attempts at answering rhetorical questions. They cause you to think like the loneliest, and the most insignificant person on the planet - and then when it leaves....
.....Hoho, if the bleeding pain ever leaves, it leaves you in want... in the sickening desire to actually have answers to impossible questions.
Sigh.
I miss being human in my innocence. I miss being able to be human and still dream. I miss being human and the ability to be reckless.
Lord, help me learn from my mistakes. Not cower behind the fact that I've done them and suffered the ugly consequences.
Lord, help me live.
Lord, I can't wait for the Switchfoot concert!
So, what's my new year for?
For unborn ideas waiting to be delivered.
For dreams yet to be dreamt.
For goals yet to be achieved.
For love yet to be conceived.
For healing yet to complete.
For mistakes yet to occur.
For friends yet to be made.
For the God yet to be experienced.
And all bleeding thanks to gastric-smurfaritis! Hurrah!
And all bleeding thanks to gastric-smurfaritis! Hurrah!
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Yet I Love.
It’s been a good few months since I entered this after-life. It was probably for the best, leaving that world for the next. I’ll probably be saying the same thing when I leave for my subsequent world next year, I expect. No argument there. But there’s so much missing still.
Human beings are so frail.
I am. You are.
As fickle as touch-me-nots at the side of the road. As permanent as the Christmas décor put up each year. We change and expect the world to change with us. I change and expect you to understand. You change and expect me to take that transit flight with you.
Change and Expectations. Is this what life is all about?
If it was, then would it be fair for anyone to say, that they’re tired of change? This perspective may be a little out of proportion. But this is one truth. I’m tired of waking up from my dreams. I’m tired of finding out that the happiness I’d felt had only meant to be an interim intermission between the then and now. I’m tired of the accumulating bags of hindsight and tears slung over my shoulder; I’m tired of waving off my deepest regrets and saying, “It was probably for the best.” I’m tired of trading in my innocence for the pointless wisdom of the world. (Bah, wisdom? Balderdash!)
Surely; Surely, there must be something more true. More divine. (Like… God.) More permanent. (Like joy.) More ...right. (Like integrity.) Why must I settle for second best? Why must I chase short-termed happiness? Why must my heart die a thousand deaths before I discover this? Why must I reach a point of desperation before I finally understand why?
I suppose there’s my solution right there. In order to touch him, I must be compelled into a position of sacrifice, of giving. I asked for this. I remember.
“Teach me to love the way you do.” I asked him that.
Clearly, I didn’t know what I was asking for.
He was betrayed, yet he loved. He was turned against, yet he loved. He was gossiped about, yet he loved. He was harmed, yet he loved. He was broken, yet he loved.
Can I ever truly get this?
I was betrayed, yet I ___________.
I was gossiped about, yet I ____________.
I was deceived, yet I _____________.
I was harmed, yet I _____________.
I was broken, yet I _____________.
Maybe discovering LOVE is what life’s all about. If it is, then it’s time I got to the point where:
I was ______________, yet I love.
Yet I LOVE.
Human beings are so frail.
I am. You are.
As fickle as touch-me-nots at the side of the road. As permanent as the Christmas décor put up each year. We change and expect the world to change with us. I change and expect you to understand. You change and expect me to take that transit flight with you.
Change and Expectations. Is this what life is all about?
If it was, then would it be fair for anyone to say, that they’re tired of change? This perspective may be a little out of proportion. But this is one truth. I’m tired of waking up from my dreams. I’m tired of finding out that the happiness I’d felt had only meant to be an interim intermission between the then and now. I’m tired of the accumulating bags of hindsight and tears slung over my shoulder; I’m tired of waving off my deepest regrets and saying, “It was probably for the best.” I’m tired of trading in my innocence for the pointless wisdom of the world. (Bah, wisdom? Balderdash!)
Surely; Surely, there must be something more true. More divine. (Like… God.) More permanent. (Like joy.) More ...right. (Like integrity.) Why must I settle for second best? Why must I chase short-termed happiness? Why must my heart die a thousand deaths before I discover this? Why must I reach a point of desperation before I finally understand why?
I suppose there’s my solution right there. In order to touch him, I must be compelled into a position of sacrifice, of giving. I asked for this. I remember.
“Teach me to love the way you do.” I asked him that.
Clearly, I didn’t know what I was asking for.
He was betrayed, yet he loved. He was turned against, yet he loved. He was gossiped about, yet he loved. He was harmed, yet he loved. He was broken, yet he loved.
Can I ever truly get this?
I was betrayed, yet I ___________.
I was gossiped about, yet I ____________.
I was deceived, yet I _____________.
I was harmed, yet I _____________.
I was broken, yet I _____________.
Maybe discovering LOVE is what life’s all about. If it is, then it’s time I got to the point where:
I was ______________, yet I love.
Yet I LOVE.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Gah.
Weddings and marriage engagements appear most depressing to me at the moment. I've attended a wedding reception and a wedding engagement this month, and have found myself being so fidgety, both in my seat and in my mind. It gets really hard to bear especially these days.
I find myself so drawn back, so analytical, so... strange. I'm beginning to dislike myself with the greatest intensity. I used to be such a romantic too. I loved weddings. I loved sharing in the joy of matrimonial, i loved the smiles, the excitement, the friends, the lights, the food, the clothes, the other-guests'-babies! I would just sit back and observe the happy couple and anticipate the best for them.
I can't say I'm not happy for good friends who've tied the knot. Truly, i am. But I've lost the genuineness of excitement, the innocence of romance; and i have traded it in for sombre skepticism. And truth be told, it vacuums. I really want to be happy in weddings again. But i guess these phases take time.
Don't worry this post isn't really about hate or weddings. Or even the hate of weddings. I just decided to use it as an analogy to introduce the thoughts that have been orbiting my mind this month.
It's really horrible when you suddenly realize you're constricted to this invisible entrapment, leaving you clueless as to how to get out. Can you picture a 6-year-old, pressing his button nose against a glass door, wishing he could go out and play; having no one to play with, he just decides to remain indoors anyway? Well, picture that and you probably have a basic picture of me. That's generally how I feel at this point. And you know what? It's even harder to know that the only thing standing between me and the fun outside is not the glass door - but rather, it's just me.
We wage war against ourselves everyday - in simple decisions, in our academics, in communication, in food consumption, in socializing, in work-related activities, etc. Not necessarily a bad thing. But what if you're just so deluged in arguments that you just haven't the slightest idea what to do? Or what if you're just so flooded with ideas, justifications - that it confuses your perception? Or what if your thoughts make you so uncertain if your actions are truly as platonic (unselfishly motivated) as you believe?
Does all this matter anyway? I strive so hard to be unselfish, to be true to my word, a friend in whatever circumstance. But i struggle in my own battle of thoughts and hurt. A war waged within.
Who can help?
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills -
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
(Psalm 121:1 & 2)
I need you, Lord.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
The Essence of Phoebe
Somehow, I've always suspected this.....
You are the Mad Hatter
You are completely insane.
Hatters usually went mad in those days because of handling mercury
(which makes anyone go mad after long exposure) while making hats.
Your Role:
You continuously drink tea,
Your Role:
You continuously drink tea,
because to you it is always 6 o'clock (tea time)
You Take Test Too Yes?
I took the "Alice in Wonderland" Character Quiz.
And believe it to be accurate! *laughs hysterically*
I honestly do fancy seeing myself being the Mad Hatter!
"Twinkle, twinkle little bat
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly,
Like a teatray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle—"
Up above the world you fly,
Like a teatray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle—"
And oh,
Query #1: Guess what?
I've actually heard that there is a Mad Hatter's Day! Hoho, I kid you not!
Query #2: When, in the Cause of Time and the Second Law of the Theory of Thermodynamics, is Mad Hatter's Day?
You daft bat! Why, the Sixth of October, of course!
(Refer to Mad Hatter's Hat: "In this style 10/6") Unless of course, you want to read it as the tenth of June, which totally vacuums because we would've missed it already!
So i still like the idea of it being on the sixth of October. I don't really care if you agree with me. It's not really a free world, if you think about it. (But seriously though, it's already officially celebrated on the sixth of October. Nothing doing.)
Query #3: What, in the purple supermarket, do you do on Mad Hatter's Day?
We generally celebrate silliness! You eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, spreading the peanut butter and jelly all over on top rather than between two pieces of bread. Write backwards. Don't just speak, SPELL! Wind the clock 3 hours back and let kids stay up a little more. Send wedding invitations and shock the living daylights out of everybody. Sabo somebody with weird flavoring! (I've personally ordered a sabo-ing of dark chocolate and black cherry!)
ETC.
Oh, but don't harm. Save that for April Fool's.
So i still like the idea of it being on the sixth of October. I don't really care if you agree with me. It's not really a free world, if you think about it. (But seriously though, it's already officially celebrated on the sixth of October. Nothing doing.)
Query #3: What, in the purple supermarket, do you do on Mad Hatter's Day?
We generally celebrate silliness! You eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, spreading the peanut butter and jelly all over on top rather than between two pieces of bread. Write backwards. Don't just speak, SPELL! Wind the clock 3 hours back and let kids stay up a little more. Send wedding invitations and shock the living daylights out of everybody. Sabo somebody with weird flavoring! (I've personally ordered a sabo-ing of dark chocolate and black cherry!)
ETC.
Oh, but don't harm. Save that for April Fool's.
And before i forget:
A very, merry unbirthday to you! *throws confetti* Whoopee!
(unless of course your birthday is today, in which case, i apologize profusely)
Want the history?
It's worth the read!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Lethargy
I woke up today feeling quite drained. Couldn't put my finger on it at first but managed to later. The exhaustion, unmistakable; the strain - specific.
Post Menstrual Syndrome. Gah.
My monday mornings are usually spent doing accounts for my father. It's not such a drag anymore cause i'd made a little spreadsheet form to help with the calculations, tabulations and equations. I never liked numbers, so after a little push from my best friend, i decided to put the few "Excel" formulas i had to good use. I've not regretted since.
However, the counting and the numbers are still horribly daunting and i do wish at times i didn't have to do it. So today, i decided to slack on work a bit. Leave the accounting for another day. Afterall, i had a perfectly good excuse, I thought.
"I'm suffering. Going through a severe case of post menstrual syndrome."
Big, fancy words.
Anyway, right after i decided to abstain from any mental or physical work today, I opened my little journal, penned some thoughts down. I usually did that to prepare myself for quiet time. To get myself into a more focused zone. When i was ready, I was going to flip over to a chapter in Psalms (I'm on this bout to finish the whole book) but a verse caught my eye.
Post Menstrual Syndrome. Gah.
My monday mornings are usually spent doing accounts for my father. It's not such a drag anymore cause i'd made a little spreadsheet form to help with the calculations, tabulations and equations. I never liked numbers, so after a little push from my best friend, i decided to put the few "Excel" formulas i had to good use. I've not regretted since.
However, the counting and the numbers are still horribly daunting and i do wish at times i didn't have to do it. So today, i decided to slack on work a bit. Leave the accounting for another day. Afterall, i had a perfectly good excuse, I thought.
"I'm suffering. Going through a severe case of post menstrual syndrome."
Big, fancy words.
Anyway, right after i decided to abstain from any mental or physical work today, I opened my little journal, penned some thoughts down. I usually did that to prepare myself for quiet time. To get myself into a more focused zone. When i was ready, I was going to flip over to a chapter in Psalms (I'm on this bout to finish the whole book) but a verse caught my eye.
Proverbs 6:6-11
6 Go to the ant, you sluggard;
consider its ways and be wise!
7 It has no commander,
no overseer or ruler,
8 yet it stores its provisions in summer
and gathers its food at harvest.
9 How long will you lie there, you sluggard?
When will you get up from your sleep?
10 A little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest-
11 and poverty will come on you like a bandit
and scarcity like an armed man.
consider its ways and be wise!
And then OF COURSE I had to go ahead and read the rest of it! Not unlike a spider's web waiting for a pathetic little phoebe-bug to fly gab-smack into it and get tangled up in it's shimmery grasp.
7 It has no commander,
no overseer or ruler,
8 yet it stores its provisions in summer
and gathers its food at harvest.
9 How long will you lie there, you sluggard?
When will you get up from your sleep?
10 A little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest-
11 and poverty will come on you like a bandit
and scarcity like an armed man.
What apt timing! I thought. The day i decided to be lazy, the day i claimed as my own, the day i succumbed to lethargy. I could've laughed it off. I mean, surely that happened out of pure coincidence.
I took this myself!But even if it had happened coincidentally, I had too receptive a conscience to let it just flit by unattended. Just reading those verses made me disappear into my thoughts. And the thoughts never left me.
"Consider its ways and be wise."
I decided to just read up about ants then. And I learned a thing or two today from the ants, which is more than i ever thought i could. I'd always wondered about it before. I may have waved it off when i was younger, thinking that was all that was to it. That ants were hardworking cause it just worked its butt off till it died.
Browsing websites, this were some of the facts that i learned:
"The ants are to be admired for their discipline and for how each chore necessary for the successful running of the nest is assigned to various colony members, and for how these chores are meticulously carried out." Strike One!
"Sometimes when catastrophe happens, the ants respond quickly by adapting their duties to overcome the problem." I hadn't realized how human they were! Strike Two!
"The ants constantly educate their young, teaching younger ants the tricks of the trade." Strike Three!
"It has been estimated that an ant's brain may have the same processing power as a Macintosh II computer." And I was OUT!
Jokes aside, I decided that since i could let myself choose to play the sloth today, I could also let myself choose to be a little more productive and do what was needed of me. If I didn't do this, my dad would have to postpone his trip to the bank and tomorrow would end up a maddening rush of chores.
Lesson #1: Be disciplined and do what is needed of you today.
The ants could adapt themselves to situations, changing skills and duties to fit circumstances, responding quickly to any problem that arose. Instead of even trying to adapt to my tasks and chores to better suit the circumstances, i chose to not do it at all.
Lesson #2: Be flexible. Don't resolve to quit before you've even tried. Phoegure out ideas to best suit conditions.
Even the ants knew that educating th new generation was essential as the future of the colony depended on its continuity, whether it be tending their aphids (like cows), scouting for food, ensuring security, cleaning, etc.
Lesson #3: Teach somebody what i know so that they can take over when I couldn't do it anymore. This can also avoid unnecessary stress.
Eventually i realized, God was indeed speaking to me. In way i could never imagine. If i didn't update the accounts today, then nobody would; heaping more work for tomorrow on top of the errands and journeys I would have to make on Tuesdays anyway. At 6-ish in the evening, my tummy still kicking up a fuss, I began my accounts.
I found out that if i put enough pressure on my tummy, the pain subsides. So i set up my laptop on the floor, and layed with my tummy on a cushion and did the accounts that way the whole time. And it helped. A lot.
I also got my sister to stick around and explained formulas and instructed her as to how to utilize the spreadsheet form. She caught up pretty quick. So today's accounting session was memorable and somewhat more enjoyable to an extent.
I even had enough strength leftover to do a bit more for the church noticeboard and other small errands. I still feel invigorated and inspired. I'd best write a bit in my journal and turn in for now though. It is best not to run on borrowed strength anyway.
Oh by the way, how was your day?
Thanks for the extra fuel I needed, Lord.
Monday, June 18, 2007
The Slide
Remember your first slide? The excitement, the adrenaline rushes, the wind in your face, the tingly feeling you get in your toes, the imagination?If i were to make you get into one now, at the very age you are right this very second, what would you feel? Well, straight off the edge of my mind, I'd feel:
a) AWKWARD at first. very. (honestly, a twenty one year old? climbing up a slide? who wouldn't feel that way?)
b) growing EXCITEMENT. the type you thought you'd forgotten. (sitting at the edge of the slide now. looking around, nervous and awkward.)
c) the nostalgic JOY i felt as a kid. (going down the slide. hands in the air now. adrenaline rush.)
I'd given up something I'd wanted awhile ago. And just when i thought i'd outgrown the idea, just when i've managed to convince myself that it was a stupid and superficial dream in the first place, it comes back to me - served on a silver platter.
I felt most awkward. It didn't make sense to me. But then, just for a brief "slide" moment, i had this sense of growing excitement. Everyone who has ever asked me about this dream never got a positive answer from me before! I would now have an awesome, jawdropping response to any future queries! In that split second of nostalgic joy, i felt like i could rule the world!
But it lasted for just that. A shortlived split moment. I'm being offered one of the things i'd always wanted as a child! I'm supposed to be stupefied. Amazed. Excited. So, why don't I seem to want it as much anymore?
Why do i feel like i've outgrown it?
Picture Source:
http://opkansas.org/Media_Room/Photos/artGallery.cfm?ImageNumber=173
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