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. :)