Blushing Animosity

You don't talk to me the same.
I told you that the signs show, you promised that you were different.
No one is different.
Is it safe to still love you?

On a lighter note, Jesus is constant.

Simple

I am at a loss. This is the most difficult summer. It is impossible to put things otherwise. But in such a light, this has also, simultaneously, been the most uplifting summer. I've never fought against my flesh so hard, stayed up so recklessly in the midnights, and questioned this existence to such an extent before. And thus, I've never seen the love of Jesus to such a radiant shine and hue since He redeemed me. It is, in no other proper way, ethereal.

I simply cannot do this life alone.

Epiphany

Nope, didn't have one yet.

Hark!

I spend most of my internet minutes visiting this amazing website that hosts an author and her awesome comics that are based on literary and historical figures. By George, I've learned more about various histories and various literaries(?) that my simpleton mind may soon burst! From laughter or awesome knowledge, I dare not say. I keep wanting to pick up a few of the mentioned novels and just spend the next few months reading... but that's quite unrealistic and a tad bit anti. I don't want to grow too pale. So all thanks to Kate, as if we are friends and whatnot right.

Hey self! Yea, me!

It's always difficult to put a price on happiness, or even to define true joy within the conditions of human retrospect. Laying in bed tonight, I came to the stark realization that graduating from high school, no, entering college, has been one of the best and happiest transitions I have ever endured. I say endured because the transition wasn't exactly a brisk walk in the park, and I say stark because I hadn't come to full terms with such an epiphany in it's rawest form as of late. Ask me what my most fondest memories of the past two years in college are and I will spit them out without a second pause. They've always lingered in my memory as just that, memories, but I've never brought forth the courage to analyze them as anything more than precious. Perhaps my resentment toward entering a world of futile responsibilities and mundane schedules has manifested tenfold since the start of my summer. Yes, quite. I am scared to graduate and although it shall be a move toward higher education nonetheless, it'll be different altogether. My happiest memories of college revolve around affection and comfort--times of ne'er do well phases, moments of truth, and simply knowing that everything would possibly probably be quite fine. As for this summer, I won't have that. I mean, I will be lucky to prove ownership for a partial fill, but until August rolls around again... it's hard for me to type such a cliche but, it's really all up in the air.

On a side note, I only just realized that my Art 176 class for summer school is in the second session... not for another two months. Nice one, self. You always manage to bring out the best in me.

Watered down coffee

I am sitting here, not crosslegged or Indian style, but lengthwise and straightlegged. My Mac is providing to be more than enough of a heating source on my lap and thus will probably leave light-pink dots as an afterthought. Or an aforethought?

I am waiting here, not desperately or in suspense, but longingly and lovingly. With every buzz of my phone, I can't help skipping the beats of my heart. Oh, be still my heart. If only the contractions and bursts of blood in and out of my ventricles could be silenced and stilled. Maybe then I could write a proper blog. Or perhaps I should turn off the television. It's ridiculous nonsense that they play in that box.

I am reading here, not wanderingly or in leisure, but with purpose and intention. My Bible speaks lengths into my soul, it stirs up from within a daily transformation and thirst to live the Gospel. I am ashamed of myself, yet proud of the daily triumphs He bestows upon my lowly head. I turn off the television.

Maybe then we can talk?

Shouts

The word "shout" has such intense implications -- that singular noun or verb can bring forth memories of broken parents, stir up mixed feelings of animosity, reverberate scenes from "Sister Act," and maybe even follow through with another duplicate of itself. I hear them now, two voices together in shout. Not shouting. Not even in heartfelt outbursts. But in shout, kind of like in love, but twisted and just as passionate. Why do people shout? Why must the selfishness we craft in craftiness be allowed to fester when it is so damn obvious that the rotting of pride and prejudice will poison and toxify our lungs, our fingertips, our cores? Without my fingertips, I cannot caress your face, lace my fingers into yours, and memorize the sneaky bumps on your chin. Without my lungs, it's so difficult to inhale your scent, so unfortunate to not be able to primitively recognize your presence. Why must we shout in shouts? Let's shout in whispers, in single tears, in wordless nothings, in smirks, and in love. Love. Not shout.

Coming through, pardon me

I swore that I'd start updating this and defy all tumblr issues... tumblr is a disease, dontcha know? I don't understand this reblogging nonsense, aside from the nifty pictures I see every rare century or so. Communication has become such a process of incomprehension, unpardonable touches, informalities, and the like. So what happened to expression? To more than just speaking and hearing, but listening? I'm hearing, I'm listening, your lips twist and pout and form letters of hieroglyphical messes. Do you want me to understand, God? What brought me here in the first place was your "by the way," your uphill clawing, your laboured breathing into my nose, granting me life. A gift above all, I cannot accept this, may your way be blessed and fortunate. Let's escape this, craft an upward spiraling tunnel below the stars, above the sun, and beyond the galaxy. Cliches and grammar rules may wrench my throat apart but in your gaze I falter. Pardon me, I see something beautiful.

2 Corinthians 12:9

Fall semester has started and I'm definitely not in the mood.
However, my progress of studying has gone from 0 hw problems/hr to 5 hw problems/hr! This is great and genuine success. And of course, that success calls for some blogging celebration!
I cannot begin to explain the spiritual transformation that I've gone through within the past few weeks. Something that had been growing and spurting and faltering these past 19 years has finally broken through the ice, bashed through my head into my heart! Oh, what joy it is to truly know the God of the universe. To know beyond the Bible verses and to be enlightened with the salvation that my wretched heart hath sought. Jesus Christ is my Redeemer, and even though I've heard those words so many a time, my ears had became clogged and swimmingly enclosed. It is only for His grace that I have been set free, broken away from the need and the yearning to be like and in the world. For nothing can be wrought of the world, and Satan knows that a watered-down Christianity is all that he needs to win over the hearts of the confused youth.
Let's stand strong and believe what we really believe.
Let's break away from the ideology that raising our hands when we worship kind of maybe means that we're saved.
Let's get to know our Savior beyond capitalizing the "J" in Jesus.
Because He is so much more than that, and coming to terms with such grace means repentance. It has taken me a stubborn 19 years to realize the true meaning of repentance, and I almost despise myself for lagging behind when God has offered to carry me. And because of that, I am even more thankful! How amazing is it to wake up and feel like it is Thanksgiving Day 24/7?
For His grace is sufficient for me.


And....now it's back to studying. What excitementnot. :3

Time to bust out the scissors...

...it's time for a trim.
How awkward is it to wake up in the morning and find out that my hair looks nothing like it did the night before? That, over the course of 6 or so hours, the rag on my scalp has transformed into a complete nutjob.


Was it wrong of me to not tip the waiter tonight, despite the honestly horrible service and overcharging? I felt somewhat bad, somewhat tired, and somewhat resentful when I wrote in capital letters, "NO TIP." Or I could've just drawn a $100 bill on the receipt. Balling.

This summer has been so...disconnected. So full of pieces that don't mesh or overlap or even appear to blend within and without...kind of like this blog, eh? But yet, this summer has been amazing. It has brought me so much closer to knowing the true and truest character of my Savior. In the most unexpected ways, He's brought me so low that I could reach so high and that He could justify His love so desperately for me through the toughest sanctification I've ever experienced within the past 19 years. I am not me, I am dead and He is alive in Me. Only after this summer of ardor has that been made real within my heart. What joy!

Blessed assurance...

For you,

I am going through serious withdrawals.

Cramped Elbows

Nothing to complain about. Things are about as good as they ever get.



Stuff I've beein lookin at besides facebook nowdays:

http://tvbookshop.com
http://www.hennesseyingalls.com/hennessey/
http://referencelibrary.blogspot.com/
http://trackosaurusrex.com/pblog/ (Just for you, Jacob)
http://nothingisnew.wordpress.com/

Yay good stuff.

My knuckles have turned to white,

I'm all smiles!

Just got back from Black Friday shopping with my girls. Yep, it's 4 AM and I'm done shopping. Parking was a crazy mess, walking around was ridiculous dodging through crowds, waiting in lines for hours...I knew it wouldn't be particularly amazing to do midnight shopping at Waikele, but it was an experience nonetheless.

And so apparently it's Christmas season.

I love the holidays, figures that Hawaii never gets to participate in much of that wintery stuff.

Life is good. I'm pretty thankful.

Oh my goodness,

I haven't been this happy in ages.

It's nice. :]




edit-

AHAHAHAHAHAH

Yeah I bet it isn't even that bad huh

I fucking hate canker sores

Rhetoric and Flotsam

Wait, Wait, Wait - The Format

I'm looking at you
And my heart loves the view
Because you mean everything




And thus closes the curtains of a new day to start a new night, but streams of light still filter through these cluttered eyelids. Nonsensical whispers sneak across and through the carpet and creep up my blankets to crawl and snuggle in with me, only you're not there to tuck me in. Will it be the end of time that finally brings you to me? Or will that end only give birth to the fissure between us, that abyss festering between us? To me, those were words of encouragement, that we had hit rock bottom. In order to climb out, hand grasping rock, could imagination be our savior. My savior. And who was to tell me, to look straight into my gaze of fixed vacancy and tell me that it had just begun? Or had never started? Too many questions, too many answers. Like the jumbled letters of your Scrabble board, always frustrating me to never-ending end with the possibility of drawing a blank. Like how I chose you. Like how you didn't choose me. Funny to notice the discrepancies between our heartbeats, the thuds of your breaths clashing with the sighs of my aching fingertips. These fingertips disconnected between the dots that outline your face, the stunning curvature of your architecture. Oh, blessed be an onlooker worthy enough of hearing that poetry. Like you said, never does as never do. Although I was absolutely certain of the lack of grammar within those lines, it was assuring to find ignorance in bliss. But between the belief and the juxtaposition of the fall, did I realize what I realized. If only, and, ors, and buts. Those conversations never led to much conclusion, fighting and struggling like wounded soldiers to find some reason to carry on. A reason to breathe out anew and inhale the old, ancient, and wronged. Your Atlantis sunk long before I came along, or so you blamed me accountable for. That wretched paradise of isolation and "rut-on-the-side-of-the-road" symptoms had you fulfilled till disgusting, emotional gluttony. If you could even call your heart, emotion. But nevertheless, these words still spun sentences, these letters still clustered into mutterings, and this final goodbye never ceased.

And thus opens the door of a new life to start a whole new you, but the incandescent shadows still trickle behind these soft hands.

White Lines & Red Lights - Between The Trees




I HATE VOG!!!!!!!!

Oh my god this hurts like hell

The Mixed Tape - Jack's Mannequin





Like nothing ever.
Like everything ever.
Like the absence of existing as nothing.
Like you and I and we and us and together we are forever.
Like the waves of my thought trailed down your cheek with no presence of tears.
Like muttering soft nothings and hard everythings and combined adjectives to describe this...
This...





And so life goes on.
I love transitions, phases of phases upon interphases and gaps between. I'm quite excited for this new season -- gosh, that word! "season". Such a New Hope word. Invented to intervene between what was initially intended. But nevertheless, I see such potential in this, with this. I know that God's got His hand scooping down and paving the way, turning over my dirty hands and rubbing them clean within His. It's a nice feeling. Honestly, I'm not referring to anything specific, but somehow I just know. And that's all that really matters. Because in a world where what matters really doesn't matter, what doesn't matter essentially does. And He matters to me. Amen.

I knew I loveddd youu before I metttt youuuuu

I Knew I Loved You - Savage Garden

That's my jam. '90s pop was so ridiculous. Backstreet Boys totally > N*SYNC. I mean c'mon, what does n'sync even mean? Can the mass media audience not even have the educational capacity to spell "in sync"? And what is up with that star thing that acts as a apostrophe?!?!?! Geez. So we're officially calling Epic's next dating series, "Love: As Told By '90s Pop". It'll be bomb!



Auuright!

1, 2, 3, 4, hey you clean my kitchen floor!

Mushaboom - Feist


So I've decided that turning 18 ain't all that great.
Sometimes I even forget that I'll be considered an "adult" by most of the generalized Western world in 16 days. Or is it "sixteen" days? I never know the difference in appropriateness for spelling out. Figures I'd be an English major, no? Mmm. Perhaps it's because those days of family celebrations and huge, frosted cakes are gone. Now, it's slender collections of dollar bills and half-hearted hugs. Which is fine, really. Growing up. I don't think I'll ever fully grow up, at least not for a many a years from now. I'm pretty sure I fancied up some sort of Peter-Pan syndrome somewhere...


I don't even have a wishlist! Errawwggh.
Someone buy me a puppy and I'll be fine.

KSHOOTSDEN




-ediiiiit!

My thoughts exactly. Come on, I like Nutella more than nonfunctioning pocket internet...