Three Wishes...

Stop. Put your coffee down. Click "play"



Isn't that amazing?
I have three goals in life, and it took all of 4 minutes and 29 seconds for this to become one of them. To dance all over the face of the planet. Yessiree.

I'll send you postcards.

God's laughter...

God has a funny sense of humor.

I've heard that phrase many times. It's almost cliche actually.

And yet, God really does make me smile in gratitude sometimes. Especially recently. He has continued to surprise me, chide me, stretch me, mold me, throw curveballs at me, hold me, protect me, and most of all, love me. His ways are so incredibly mysterious and perfect - I'm left rather speechless.

The night before Thanksgiving I had a complete melt-down. 1:30am found me sobbing on the front couch; hot tears of anger, frustration and betrayal sliding down my face. It was the eve of the day-to-give-thanks and all I felt was hurt. Confusion. Loneliness. Pain.

I was so upset. 'Why, God? Why? Oh Lord, show me love. Show me there can be love in all this. Please.' I listened to a mother's wise counsel that night, cried on her shoulder, shared in her pain - and then, finally, around 2:00, crawled into bed.

Not 45 minutes later, a group of stealthy friends snuck into our front yard armed with rolls and rolls of toilet paper and proceeded to mummify our bushes and trees. It was a small and silly prank, but that simple act spoke volumes the next morning when I woke up to a white, blanketed world out front. The rolls of TP wound 'round and 'round the trees whispered of friendship and the soggy paper cris-crossing the wet grass simply oozed their acceptance no-matter-what. While I was lying in bed, angry tears rolling down my face, my friends were outside silently flinging toilet paper and creating a web of white happiness.

That simple gesture of vandalistic friendship quieted my conflicted heart as I'm pretty sure no TP-job has before...to anyone. I mean, since when has getting TPed been a comfort?

Like I said, God has a funny sense of humor.

Thanksgiving

Bedtime Mornings

I am sitting in bed, listening to the hum of my neighbor mowing his lawn and the sounds of little boy-scouts running in the hallway outside my closed door. There was some sort of patrol meeting at my house this morning at nine, hence dozens of little uniformed kiddos descended on our sleepy home bringing much laughter, piano playing, dog-chasing, running, yelling and the like.

I am sitting in bed, texting with a dear friend who is home for Thanksgiving, planning out a time when we could go get coffee and catch up. She's precious and has been away at college for a semester too long. I can't wait to see her again.

I am sitting in bed, pontificating about the world, life, friends, future, college. One's bed is a magnificent place to sit and think. You can lay under the warn, cozy sheets, curl up with your little stuffed animal, and think. And think. And think. There's a lot to think about in the 21st century...and lying in bed, tackling the issues of the world, is quite wonderful.

I am sitting in bed, and discovered a little piece of chocolate waiting for me this morning. Oh, how divine! What a *perfect* way to start the morning. So yes, I'm being the utterly, absolutely, 100% unhealthy college student and am eating chocolate for breakfast. And I'm loving every delicious moment of it.

I am sitting in bed, but the day is calling and I need to get up.
I'm going to get out of bed.

That's right...

...it's her birthday!

"Pretend"

Pretend (Album Version) - LIGHTS

Once in a while, I act like a child to feel like a kid again
It gets like a prison in the body I'm living in
Cause everyone's watching and quick to start talking. I'm losing my innocence.
Wish I were a little girl without the weight of the world.

It would be nice to start over again,
Before we were men
I'd give, I'd bend, let's pray pretend.

Remember the times we had soda for wine,
and we got by on gratitude.
The worst they could do to you was check your attitude.
Yeah, when fights were for fun, we had water in guns,
and a place we could call our own.
How we lost hold of home I guess I'll never know.

It would be nice to start over again,
Before we were men
I'd give, I'd bend, let's play pretend.

And when it's the end,
Our lives will make sense.
We'll love, we'll bend, let's play pretend.

It's not going to be long before we're all gone,
with nothing to show for them.
Stop talking lives, come on, let's all grow up again.

Interests:

Dance.
Singing at the top of my lungs.
Dancing in the rain.
Swimming in the ocean.
Slinkachu's photographs.
Inside jokes.
Eating an In 'n' Out burger.
Live music.
Traveling.
Vintage shops.
Road trips.
French pop music.
That little beep when I get a text.
Wood smoke.
Nikon cameras.
Laughter.
Books that challenge your assumptions.
Coloring.

C'est Moi

C'est moi
Rien ne glisse entre mes doigts

Soy yo
Nada escapa entre mis dedos

This is me
Nothing slips through my fingers

"Show Me What I'm Looking For..."

God's Attention

-- Here is an excerpt from Chuck Palahnuik's Fight Club that I've been mulling over recently. It's fascinating and frightening. The idea is scary, chilling, alarming...and I've been pondering its meaning all day. Thank goodness for apologetics in high-school and a strong biblical worldview, but still, this is intriguing. --

"What you end up doing, the mechanic says, "is you spend your life searching for a father and God."
"What you have to consider," he says, "is the possibility that God doesn't like you. Could be, God hates us. This is not the worst thing that can happen."
How Tyler saw it was that getting God's attention for being bad was better than getting no attention at all. Maybe because God's hate is better than His indifference.
If you could be either God's worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose?
We are God's middle children, according to Tyler Durden, with no special place in history, and no special attention.
Unless we get God's attention, we have no hope of damnation or redemption.
Which is worse, hell or nothing?
Only if we're caught and punished can we be saved.
"Burn the Louvre," the mechanic says, "...This way at least God would know our names."
The lower you fall, the higher you'll fly. The farther you run, the more God wants you back.
"If the prodigal son had never left home," the mechanic says, "the fatted calf would still be alive."
It's not enough to be numbered with the grains of sand on the beach and the stars in the sky.

The Tune of Truth

There's a quiet serenity hidden within a cold, autumnal morning.

Deep inside the frost or tucked behind a fallen red leaf, peace resides. As the chilly morning breeze swirls down the empty street, flipping leaves and rustling the dewy grass, it quietly hums the tune of tranquility. It softly curls around car tires and envelops the noiseless houses.

The same wind swirled through the streets of Rome. This same chilly breeze swept across oceans of water and of time. The same frosty wind that twisted through the ancient towns of China now twists down my sleepy neighborhood in Sacramento. The wind never ages. The wind never dies. It continues; twisting, curling, sweeping, ever swirling. And hidden behind it is a silent song.

There's a quiet serenity hidden within a cold, autumnal morning.

Deep inside those low, grey clouds or tucked behind a stranger's smile, peace resides. Trees ablaze with fiery yellows and red stand with arms outstretched; lifted towards the foggy sky. The breeze passes through the sieve of leaves, and quietly, the tree hums the tune of tranquility. It's roots pulse with the song of serenity.

Within the house, tensions rise. It's rough. Hard. Difficult.

Subtle undercurrents. Between-the-lines reading. Guessing. Twisting. Manipulating. Deep inside the walls, there is hurt. Betrayal. Anger. Brokenness. And at the same time, those walls sing the song of truth. Murmurs of honesty begin to rise. Tucked within the hearts and souls of the inhabitants is a yearning for honesty, for goodness, for truth. The cold breeze of reality curls through the house; chilling and painful, yet refreshing and healthy. It sweeps through the hallways, flipping over hypocrisy and uprooting deceiving duplicity. Humming the tune of truth.

There's a quiet serenity hidden within a cold, autumnal morning.

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." John 14:27

In 'n' Out

this morning i discovered exactly how it feels to wake up, get dressed and get out the door for school in...exactly...6 minutes. good lord, that's whirlwind speed.

Thank God...

...for ice-packs, gauze, jamba juice, vicadin, sleep, and friends willing to text a groggy, cranky invalid. :)

Haiku: Express the Complicated

Haikus have a simple beauty to them. Tonight, with a hundred emotions and thoughts racing through my mind, I'm going to Haiku. Snippits of my mind captured in organized poetry.

--

Fillmore Concert Hall.
San Franscisco awesomeness.
Airborne Toxic Event.

Singing. Dancing.
Pictures on my cell-phone.
Incredible night.

3 hours of sleep.
Statistics midterm.
Adrenaline.

Afternoon counseling.
Conflict and tears over "trust."
Trust is so risky.

Choir at Fremont.
Sweet voices singing Hayden.
Therapy in song.

Prepping for Friday.
Wisdom teeth surgery. Yuck.
Drugs and looming pain.

Late night reflections.
Thinking and writing and prayer.
Quiet before God.