Eugh

No earth-shaking thoughts; just how much I hate my lazy tendencies. They're beyond lazy..they're the feeling of chained-to-unproductivity even when I know the consequences all too well.

What to do? What to do? Stupid Adobe Flash Player needs to be upgraded to listen to music, and I can't do that on this account; I woke up at 12:30; school is sinking faster and faster.

I want to smash something.

by The Eels.

Do you know what it's like to fall on the floor

And cry your guts out 'til you got no more

Hey man now you're really living

Have you ever made love to a beautiful girl

Made you feel like it's not such a bad world

Hey man now you're really living

Now you're really giving everything

And you're really getting all you gave

Now you're really living what

This life is all about

Well I just saw the sun rise over the hill

Never used to give me much of a thrill

But hey man now you're really living

Do you know what it's like to care too much

'Bout someone that you're never gonna get to touch

Hey man now you're really living

Have you ever sat down in the fresh cut grass

And thought about the moment and when it will pass

Hey man now you're really living

General Revelations.

Getting things done this afternoon, mainly projects and compositions, writing a poem or two, watching the construction men walk back and forth on the roofs and bulldozers...things like that. The hope of making it to the library for an hour or two is before me, and the joy of friendships and a good family is upon me.

It's been a good day.

This morning's fog cleared up to reveal a gorgeously light sky and soft sunlight; summer is still clinging to the leaves. I braided some yellow, orange, and black yarn. I'm going to hot-glue it onto a leaf and hang it from my ceiling. Then I'm going to braid some more, and repeat it until all I see above me are falling leaves.

Small post upon small post, and soon autumn will be gone. A few friends will grow a year older, and then it will be my turn: eighteen. I would love to rent my youth group building and invite everyone I know, but I also understand the limits of finances. But I still would love to do that. That's the only thing I hate about having my birthday during winter: the park for a place of entertainment is out.

It's good, though. God is good, throughout it all.
And in spite of it all, this is a life that I am thoroughly enjoying. I really do feel like royalty today, what with the world being so full of a number of things.

Is it late in the morning or an early afternoon?
I'm online right now, looking back through deviantArt stuff, reading the words of people all across the world, and feeling so much.

Feeling the deep strength of tea warming me on this grey September morning, feeling my head try to push past its skeletal boundaries, feeling the loose comfort of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt (I haven't worn loose clothes in a long, long time, and I forgot how comfort feels, I think). Feeling the pain pouring out in stories of step-dads and friends and lovers and dreams from people I'll never meet but know. Reading a story on pain one moment, looking at a picture of beauty the next.. it's heady.

It's time to go be productive.

I'll Stand.

For the weeks following FUEL, I felt like I was training for something: all the books on the Bravehearted Gospel, devotions, worship, prayer - it was leading up to something.

Now I know that I am in training every day, for the battle that will last my lifetime. It's a battle against principalities and powers, and the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places; it is a battle that is waged every day, and I am being moved closer to it.

After yesterday morning's effort, I was ready to try again this morning - we all were. And we all overslept. And my mother dreamed a dream that caused her to pray over every one of her children individually, and as she prayed over me, she saw the jaws of the lion from her dream.

Am I trouble? Is the devil getting nervous?

Good. Good. Bring it on, puppy dog. God is with me - who can be against me? I can stare the whole world in the face, my flesh included, and withstand whatever it throws at me.

Ephesians 6: taking upon myself the whole armor of God, so that I may be able to withstand in the evil, stand against the wiles of the devil.

Well, today was a day that dragged me down. My hair didn't feel right: greasy after washing it just a few hours before. My dreams distracted me, and I couldn't forget them. My school was a whole other battle.

But today, I read the Word. I prayed. I sang. I failed in some things, succeeded in others - but this day is over soon, and tomorrow is a new one. Tomorrow I'll try again, and I'll keep training, and keep fighting.

It's a roller-coaster, a life lived with God, but it's exhilarating.

The Spirit Is Willing But the Flesh Is Weak.

So. I overslept. It reminds me of a Bible verse. Now, I am a little disappointed, but I think I learned something.

It's good, that I can learn something from all seasons of life.

At any rate, tonight is youth group, tomorrow is small group, and I have my music, my penmanship, and I still have my God. I see Him still, in everything that happens and doesn't happen. My sister and I had a chance to speak to some children later in the morning, and I think I'm getting sick (finally, after hovering on the edge of it for a month).

Or maybe I'll just keep hovering.

Going Big; Feeling Small.

Tomorrow is the morning that I've been praying about and half-dreading, half-anticipating for the past two weeks. Tomorrow morning, I will leap out beyond anything I would normally do and trust my landing to the Lord.

Even as I plan and pray to go big, I feel so small.

What will I say; what will they think; why do I care what they think; I do care what they think; why am I doing this; God, I hope You are pleased; everything that my new nature does is pleasing to You - I have to remember that; help me wake up early enough; don't let me fall back in cowardice; I'm so scared; I'm so excited.

And I've never felt so alive, and so dead.

Well, God, this is me. Right here: ready to do something, trying hard - no. Training to be more like You. This is where I've failed (again), in this training department. I haven't talked to You seriously in a few days, ditto regarding reading Your Words. Actually, I've been falling back into my old ways slowly and surely.

But not again; never again. Please God, I need to feel Your hand as I go outside tomorrow, clean and trembling in the piercing morning sun. Let me return home triumphant - or at least more confident in Your presence. Give me the words and the actions to reach the ones who have been moving around me for years. Please, God! I am so insufficient. I am so insecure, continually fumbling for some kind of solid ground that I can see.

It's not about seeing, though, is it? It's about the evidence of things hoped for, and the substance of things unseen. I hope that, regardless of the opinions of others and of myself, that Your love is poured out tomorrow morning and every morning and every day following that day, until it touches everyone in this community. I don't see it yet, but the substance of it is here in my heart, and in this small vision that I feel bubbling in my belly.

God, finish my faith! You have begun a good work in me, and I pray that You would continue it for Your glory. Ah, Lord. Make me bold. Don't let me tremble in the face of opposition or ridicule. I care not! It is Your pleasure and Your will alone that goads me on, that gives me the grace day to day to continue breathing and sinning and falling and rising and being imperfect but striving towards perfection as long as I live.

If You told me to do this, then I can bear it. You give me as much as I can bear, and I believe that everywhere I go, You are there with me.

I'm...
scared and a little weak, but sure in the hope that is the glory of God, and confident of His resurrection power working in me. If I have nothing else, I always am secure in the center of His hand, and there all the riches of heaven and earth reside.

He cares for the sparrows and clothes the flowers... will He not incline His eyes towards me and my concerns? And, even with those concerns - He tells me to cast them upon Him, for He cares for me.

Blessed assurance! Jesus is mine.
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Angels descending bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

This is my story; this is my song -
Praising my Savior all the day long!
This is my story; this is my song -
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Smaller and Smaller and Smaller.

A small icon post. I've taken to printing them out and taping them into my journal...I've printed out hundreds. I like small pictures and pictures of small things.

I'm Feeling Like a Child.

Driving through the city today on our way to the zoo, I was captivated by the pulse of small city moments: a grill leaning out on a second-story ledge, curtains upon curtains of ivy, a young guy pedaling alongside the cars, pretty protective bars criss-crossing windows lining the streets.

And the zoo, too, captivated me. All the mammals and reptiles and birds, so diverse and so beautiful, all in cages. It made me happy and sad; happy to see them so closely, sad to see them locked up.

There was a Lorikeet Experience thinger, where they let you into the huge cage with dozens of these birds flying around you. You hold out your hand, cupped around a small cup of nectar, and let the lorikeets fly onto your arm and drink.

A red-and-black-and-orange one flew onto my arm and stayed there for a good three minutes, licking not the cup but my hand; all over it, into the palm and around the fingers. The trainers laughed awkwardly and said that it liked me (they didn't look like they knew for sure). Whatever. I wish I could have taken that one home.

Ah, so childish. I haven't been to the zoo in years. YEARS. Maybe it's a good thing: the animals are so beautiful, but their eyes are so dead. (But it's not like the free animal's eyes are any different.) I suppose I'm a sucker for freedom, for the wild.

I didn't realize I loved animals so much until today. Seeing the curls of the flamingo's neck, the striped awkwardness of the okapi, the disgusting way Galapagos tortoises crush watermelon with their tongue, the silent paths worked through tanks of water by another fleshy turtle, the sleek black scales of that African viper, the silliness of the peacocks, the quirky pawing of the Egyptian plover, the shimmering rainbow-hued feathers of that small starling... it made an impression.

Even the giraffes, who I had loved but not nearly as much as today when I saw the baby giraffe wobble as it struggled to sit down.

Especially the birds, though. That was my absolute favorite part: walking into this gorgeous silver building, walking so close to these birds that I could touch them if I chose - a few even walked right next to us on the path! It awed me to the center of my heart.

Papa said we'll go back sometime this year, to finish walking through the rest of the zoo. I'm glad; I'm so glad. I'm so glad God made such a wide, wide world full of such wonderful creatures.

Did you know the Bible mentions unicorns? It does.

Why does this give me great hope?

Waiting for the Storm.

Mumford & Sons: a band after my heart. Grand strings, banjos, and desperate, earthy vocals. I believe, in their musical repertoire, I have found a song that is closer to my heart than any other.

I sometimes debate letting everyone I know know about this journal. Would they think differently of me. Would I write differently. Would I delete everything personal.

Today I talked to a middle-school girl named Brianna. She lives in my apartments; I've known her for a while, and today I invited her to the Edge - straight out, when she answered "7th grade," to my question of what grade she was in now. Then we talked about stuff. She is one of those who give me hope for this generation.

Today I ate black licorice for the first time in years. Last time I tried it, I absolutely hated it, but I savored it today. The strange aftertaste is still there, but my taste buds embraced it joyously. Ah, speaking of taste buds, mine received a revelation yesterday in the form of marinated artichoke from Giant's olive bar. We bought bruschetta, feta cheese, and a couple artichokes, piled them onto some crusty bread at home, and feasted.

I have realized that the things necessary to life can be the most enjoyable.
Eating.
Breathing.
Drinking.
Loving.

That's what I've learned.

And after the storm
I run and run as the rains come
On my knees and out of luck,
I look up.

Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won't rot, I won't rot
Not this mind and not this heart,
I won't rot.

And I took you by the hand
And we stood tall,
And remembered our own land,
What we stood for.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
But oh no more.
That's why I hold,
That's why I hold with all I have,
That's why I hold.

I won't die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I'll just go home,
Oh God knows where.
Because death is just so full and man so small.
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your tears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your tears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

Heart It Races

NaNoWriMo is rapidly approaching (but not quickly enough). The idea for my story came to me about a week ago, and it has gripped me strongly, very strongly. After a few days of brainstorming, I've begun to outline and plan the more concrete details.

It's hard, harder than I thought it would be, keeping the characters themselves and not lending them pieces of my personality. I can't tell anyone about the story; last year I did that, and it took so much of the satisfaction and, honestly, all the fun out of keeping the secret.

Writers have the luxury of social allowances such as occasionally craziness and eccentricities; I intend to put all those allowances to full use, come November. Perhaps even now, with the research I'm planning...

I feel like a crafty planner of devious schemes.

See-Saws.

The water heater's broken, and I've been taking freezing showers the past two days. I love it. It freaks me out when I first feel the frigid drops, and for the next five minutes I skip back and forth like a goat...but then I am cooled down enough to enjoy fifteen minutes or more in icy awesomeness.

I couldn't believe how amazingly warm the air wafting throughout our house is after a cold shower. Putting on sweaters and jeans is like donning the threads that hold up heaven; every sensation is more alive and connected, more than anything I've ever felt.

And today, to top off everything, has been a perfectly grey autumn day. I woke up early and walked to the bus stop. I missed the high schoolers but a couple middle school kids were standing around. We talked a little bit; there was so much more I could have said, looking back, but that's how it goes. Tomorrow is another day, another chance. And then, next week...

Old music has been coming back to me; old playlists and lyrics float past my head. I feel like I'm rediscovering pieces of myself... re-reading old diaries and journals, going through old papers and stories. Borscht and true Ukrainian food in honor of my parents' 20th anniversary yesterday: all of these conspire to tug me back to my roots.

I like them. They're greener than I remember. Things come back into perspective after teetering dangerously over the chasm of things I thought I had overcome.

Thanks, God. You keep reminders before me, and all I have to do is open my eyes, my heart. Perhaps that is the hardest part: complete surrender of everything I hold dear and held dear. All in all, it is a greater thing I am gaining that surrendering. Also I thank you for pleasant words and phrases. Autumn makes me more hazy than usual, and it's hard to focus when such lovely things are happening outside, but everything is good.
Real, real good.

And So It Goes.

Papa took us to the library for the first time since 11th grade yesterday; I was in ecstasy. It was made better by a tall, Webster-reminiscent man wandering around the aisles with his small son. I think I have a problem.

So last night I read Sisters in Sanity by Gayle Forman; it wasn't bad. I really wanted music afterwards, though. I can't seem to get enough of it, again. Today I read The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank for the first time. I'm glad I didn't read it until now - now I feel like I understand her. Although she was fourteen at the end of the diary, her thoughts are much more self-aware than mine usually are. I suppose it was her circumstances, but it was also in her character, as well.

I am such a child so much of the time. Even now, as my parents trust me more and more and more, I want to fall back into grass forts of my childhood, make a time capsule from an effervescent bubble, and stay suspened between adulthood and toddlerdom for at least two more years.

One year isn't nearly enough to fold my flesh and bones over everything I love. One more year, and I must become responsible and efficient. I dread it; I look forward to it. This is similar to my feelings on marriage and all that it entails.

I didn't mean for this to become whatever it is.
I wanted to tell a story of how, after a whole summer of nearly ignoring the piano, I learned one of my assigned songs in 30 minutes, did passably well on my finger excercises, and didn't completely fail the chords and scales.
I wanted to mention the amazing tea cookies (half butter, half sugar, basically) that I love to make almost as much as I love to eat.
I was going to say that I have a small glowing story idea inside the center of my heart, ready to be bitten into in November for NaNoWriMo.

The heart wants what it wants, though.

Dream - Priscilla Ahn
Reasons to Love You - Meiko
Gravel Lines - Amy Seeley
The Show - Lenka
Missed the Boat - Modest Mouse
Cape Town - The Young Veins

A New Post.

Here I am, listening to music and enjoying the general feel of autumn...my hoodie stash is expanded by two, made of the softest, gentlest hoodie material I've ever felt. Tea every morning is a perfect start to my day (not that it ever wasn't, but now it is appropriate). Leaves are growing into their golds and reds, and the wind nips at me every now and then. It's not as fierce as winter, not as easy-going as summer, and crisper than spring: it's my favorite.

So this is a good, good time. I am loving every thing about this time of my life: all my fears and insecurities, all my failures and shortcomings, all my strengths and talents, all my features and personality quirks - they all culminate into a girl who is not so grown up as to be blind to the magic behind every blade of grass, not so childish as to be hurt by every insensitivity of the grown-ups.

Forgive me, pretty baby, but I always take the Long Way Home.

It feels strange to be falling into techno; it feels right to be falling into techno. BEATBEATBEATS carried along by a thin voice echoing, fading into dim sparkles: it feels like I've been heading this way for a long, long time. It feels like home.

Why all this ambiguity. Why do I procrastinate and cause myself needless stress. Why must I be different.

Ah, I take that back. I like my differences. They are useful, and normalacy is safe, but overrated. However, I want the procrastination to stop. Techno still makes my head hurt, but I like it. The ambiguity is fine for a little while, but eventually I have to de-fog my perspective.

I have been thinking that love alone is not enough for life. I am beginning to saturate my days with God, and my worldview is changing, little by little. Sometimes I'm afraid. Somedays I blank out and miss every oppurtunity sent my way. Often I have no clue what to say, or what to write, or what to do. LIES. I always know what to do; there are some kind of invisible shackles keeping me tied to the book, or to the nonsense scribblings, or to simple inactivity. And so an area of my life is turned into a complicated mess.

Then, I take stock of the situation. It's not life-threatening, or life-changing. It's just another dent in my character: something to let the Lord work on.

I like saying the Lord better than God. It's softer. Holier? More reverential.

I still think banjos are the sexiest instrument ever. That will never change, even as I do.

In the moonlight, in the daylight

Struggle to get on

And you know me, understand me

You will make me strong

You will make me strong

You will make me strong

Look at me, here I am

Reaching for your arms again

I saw the hurt and all the pain

And get back on my feet

Hear you sighing through the crying

I am not alone

Cause he see me, want to be me

Melancholy so

Melancholy so

Dez, Nove, Oito, Sete, Seis, Cinco, Quatro, Três, Dois, Um

There is no fear, there is peace here

I have found a home

Look at me, here I am

(I am strong, I'm not alone)

I am Strong - Tiesto (feat. Priscilla Ahn)