Saturdays are great days

to the person who left the smile on my face yesterday,

its still here

the last bit of school motivation

I am full of albinism, my albino-information tank is topped off and I am ready to report. I have to. I can't wait till Monday, it'd be like taking a road trip for the weekend and having your mom say "hold it" for 2 days straight.

-some say Noah was albino
-there are over 90 mutations in the gene that can lead to albinism
-rarely do albinos have red eyes (most are blue, some violet or light brown)...
-but all albinos have vision problems due to reduced melanin in their eyes, so their iris' (the colored part) can't block out light, meaning both the pupil and the iris soak up light so they can't process it...
-I have normal vision, ergo I am not albino

I think I'll be ok till Monday. If only I find a computer that lets me do power point.

How is it some things captivate us so--literally inhale our minds till we find ourselves stuck in the gut of this beast of a fascination...Sometimes that is how I feel about Willits. Not that it is only a fascination, but it is a black hole home, sucking me into its familiar hills and greenness and people, always pulling me down its throat while I am away until the day I come home, and that day it convinces me that its heart is really my heart, that its depths are not what I swim in but what I consist of. Delusions of grandeur, rose colored glasses, I am still aware Willits is not so grand as all that but perhaps but home is. Home is where the heart is, as they say... and this home I idealize as Willits is really because I haven't seen my real Home yet. I can't picture all it will be like, so for now Willits can fill in some color, and I will realize that Home is waiting and is every bit as ideal as my heart believes.

i bought a spoon for the apartment

and a spatula
and some plastic cups
and bowls

Karine-amiah

There was a baby today at AFI
a widdle, iddle, biddile baby.
so cute and innocent.
Everything is so simple to Cecila
mommy, daddy, food, toys.
i, used to be like cecila, twice, like
once i was a little baby
drooling and being spoon fed.
then more recently i
was a baby christian
all i needed to know was
that God loved me
and died for my sins
that was all i could handle
all i could understand.
but i'm growing in my walk
and more questions come to mind
i dont know know the answers to them
am i dumb? am i blind? tripping into
the sun, blinded by the light?
no
i listened to 103.1 today
a band discussed religion
they dont believe in one way
everything is right
find it in yourself said
jonesy
no jonesy
no
there is nothing good in me
nothing nice
nothing sweet
nothing cute
nothing precious
i feel like jeremiah
everytime i hear something
of the jonesy sort
i get this feeling in my throat
and i want to ball up
and cry
i know what i am doing
i know this is right for me
dear mr. jonesy
i have looked for the good in me
i have looked for the beauty in me
and i ended up in bed, drunk
with a guy whose name i can
only remember 10% of the time
i dont like my insides

so many thoughts are whirly in my tiny head
thoughts about why christians are horrible
stuck up and one sided
dumb
and everything
how many times have i heard that?

that thought hurts me much
i think if i write more
i'll weep.

Heidi

I got a letter from a girl
I met at Christmas time this year
over yams
dark lighting,
big lonely table and the niece of my Grammi
does that make us cousins?
Quiet girl and spoke funny
dark hair and yes lonely.
Heidi,
hidey
but looking for an opening
and when I sent my thank you note
for the foam ornament, flake of snow
I got one back again.
waiting forgetting life moving quickly
here in Salem, then I got another
envelope now touching the skin
of my elbow as I type.
the words in there are a heart outside...
(you are who you are
no matter who reads it,
I will learn this some time)
"I been thinking of you" in the empty east coast
without parents.
been living, fixing printers. allergies and pictures.
"I miss my dad so much, I sit here and cry"
bad grammer and an eloquence I have never tried.
No past tense, just now
"thinking of getting a job,
I was told I am able to work even if I am
disabled"
such thoughts are stabling
to Californiability
slowness is so scary to our vocabularly
and my own.
I will write back,
I too, "am so happy that I meet everyone."

Confusion

Went home last weekend....
It was good
I really miss my friends from home
Will I ever make friends like that again?

Saw Gino the last 5 min I was in town
Ripped my heart out
Dont know why
Didnt expect to react that way
He looked really good... taller
Confusion

I dont trust my heart
Or my mind for that matter
I continue to do things by my own strength
I even try to grow in my walk with God by my own strength
Thats an oxymoron

How do we fully surrender?
Be in complete obedience to HIM
I dont know
I dont know who I am
I know I find my identity in Christ but what does that mean?

I miss Nor Cal
But i could never live in Willits again
Its too depressing to see everyone who will never leave
So many people are pregnant or have kids...
Some are ingaged or already married...
And you know what they are all right around MY AGE!
And the best part most of them STILL PARTY!!

AHHHHH
Karine I echo you
THIS WORLD NEEDS JESUS

But this world doesn't want HIM
They reject him
Ridicule Him
Spit on Him
They crucify Him EVERY F-ING DAY!!

I understand how Paul feels
"I am torn between the two:
I desire to depart and be with Christ,
Which is better by far; But it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body."
Philippians 1:23-24

May God bless you today

bison

i seem to be dominating the blog wall
i am up later then ever
normally being a ten o clock
to bedder
i read the time magazine today
it discussed Virgina Tech
and it showed the faces
i lingered over them.
my fingers touching each face
feeling for life.
none was there.
one of the girls had a myspace page
i went to it.
i looked at pixie
dead pixie
and i cried
how can people i never knew
effect me so?
how can one take a life?
not to borrow not to return?
but to steal and rob of all things?
empty.

the world needs jesus.

i remember when i would party
i had a re-occuring dream
i dreamt it was me
and a demon
i would try to stop the demon
and say,' in the name of the lord jesus christ i re
buke you'
but i couldn't
only , ' in the name.....'
could come out and my throat was held
by invisable hands.
this dream caused a sweat down my body
and it kept coming
and i kept partying
but eventually i listened.
i gave jesus control again
i welcomed him back
and the dreams stopped.

sweet dreams need to begin now
because it is late.

i was just around the corner

eating stonefire
and sharing our testimonies
i looked around at 66% of my new roommates
and i knew it was a good fit

there must be someplace here where only you and i know

elliot smith is singing to me. he had a problem an issue and he died. because he didn't deal with it
issues are like tissues i told jamie they come in multiples so much has happened in a day
i dont know where to begin
i remember december 29th 2001.
josh sent me an email saying he never wanted to talk to me again, he was back with Brittany
my world spun
thats how your email made me feel.
in the 5 and a half years since then my heart has been broken
i would say i have an anemic heart, it bruises easily for people i hardly know
but it only breaks for people i know.
you broke my heart,
not in a romantic way as so many have in the past
but it a way, a different way.
you compared me to your father
the one man you truly hate.
i have cried with you, i have laughed with you
i have ate with you, i have slept you with
and you slap me with that
how am i to respond?
how do i take the fact that you can't trust me?
all of the sudden the docile sleeping dog
turns and bites the hand who feeds it
shocked and alarmed
one stumbles
angry, sad, confused, hurt
with my bleeding hand i prayed
i prayed for some wisdom to see where this came from
you feel like i threatened you. i didn't
you have a problem, an issue, you CAN'T solve by yourself
do you know that? do you see that?
no. you can't control it. you can.t. you. can not.
you need help. you need to get help but you wont.
so i'm trying to help you.
and now you have shut me out.
you have taken my actions as manulations.
what i deemed for good, you have taken as evil
and i join your hit list.
in someways i wish your 'issue' was like a hot potato
and i could just pass it on.
but i can't and i wont
i dont give up
i dont.
i wont.
you can shut me out.
but i will sit outside your door.
i read your blog today about being torn up about sending the email
so why did you do it?
why did you decided to email me such hurtful words.
why not tell me to my face?
could you not bear it?
could you not handle the look of hurt?
the feeling of rejection?
that you knew my eyes would scream to you.
as i showered after i got that email
i cut my leg as it bled down my leg
i felt nothing
no pain, no victory, no vindication from the pain
you had placed on my heart
when the blood trickled down
i thought more of freedom from my sin.
thats what you need.
i love you, in a way that i dont think you have been loved before
i'm not giving up.
not in the way after the owner has been bitten by the dog
he gives up, he puts it away. goodbye
but i'm not going to
i'm not giving up. I'm hurt, but my love covers that.
i'm here for you. i'm sorry if i threatened you and you got scared
but you have a problem. when you want help. i'm h ere

Flower

There are these flowers around Santa Clarita...planted in boxes in front of Target and other stores...and they remind me of crumpled tissue paper. They have really long stems...which are lime green...and the flowers...I can't describe the flowers. They are almost flat...but not really. And the colors are gorgeous! Bright pink and oranges and yellows...they almost look fake. And every time I drive by, I think of tissue paper...because they look a little crumpled. Anyway...

Last night JB and I went on a walk with Maddy and we passed by some of those mysterious flowers planted in someone's front yard. I was excited! So I touched one...and it was much softer than I ever anticipated.

That's my story.

hhhhhhhhhhhhh going home!!

I can not put into words the joy within me!!
Home how much I miss it... or more so the people.
I fly out manana banana fanana

OHHH how I miss nor cal so much
My heart LONGS for the trees
So-cal makes me feel dirty
no trapped
no limited yet with so many possibilities

No i miss the quiet
I miss being able to go off and be in complete silence...alone
Alone ha ha ha
that word does not exist in my vocabulary anymore

and yet i so often do feel alone

I am so happy about my living situation next year
to not dread your roommate walking in asking how your day was... blah

OH I AM GOING HOME!
It does not seem like a reality
its been over three months... wow

P.S.
all the h's in the title is cuz my h key was falling off and i had to push down on it to make it click back on. I didnt want my key board to look like Jamie's :) he he

Meaningless Bizznass

Welcome Weenie.

My tum tum is hurting...
I think I ate too much cookie dough.

Went to the cafeteria and had mock Armenian food...

or was it Greek?

My boyfriend called... *giggle*

I love him madly...

Deeper

Wider

Hilariously

more every day.

He's the pattern on top of my peanut butter cookie,

The whipped cream atop my straw'brys,

So subtle and sweet...

ARGH!!! I am honestly overwhelmed by love at this very moment

Really

Truly

Honestly

overwhelmed. :)

I'm going to do some homework and I'll write more later...

Have a good evening, folks.

dropps. in my laundry

i'm sick.
icky icky sicky
sicky.

my laundry is tumbling
and tossing in the dryer
my nose is plugged
stuffed

and i want cookie dough for dinner

jamie says i can't
because i'm sick
and i need soup or something

i logically argued with her
that soup is like cookie dough
a base with some added things.

i lost the argument but she leaves for work
soon.

i enjoy doing domestic duties.
i love warm laundry.
i tried to vaccum 310 today
but the vaccum was bulimic
and wouldn't keep anything down.

Southern California becomes more and more
attractive with the up and coming summer
the sunshine will smile on my face
and i will smile back

Im a Virgin

This is my first blog so forgive me if it makes no sense...
It is true I am a virgin blogger I hope this wont be painful

Karine and Jamie you are both amazing and I wish I could live with you both
Tip: heaters on full blast=death!!

So I love Biola but school I could really do without...its over rated
Goind home for the weekend and I do not know if I will come back
No of course I will, paying 15 grand a semester I kinda have to

What would happen if I took a year off?
I just want to be with my mom and work and eat and sleep and not have to use the intellectual part of my brain that seems to be going into overload mode...

Well a test awaits so must sign off
I hope this blog isnt painful to read...or boring
Love you all!!

prayers

this is the prayer on my heart tonight


i thank you so much Lord
for prayer
that fact that i can talk to you
and iknow you respond in your timing
Lord, your timing, not mine
Lord protect my friends as they are
everywhere now, allow them to honor You
in every part of their day
and amorette Lord, with the baby
in her belly,
keep them safe
thank you that all the mexico missionars
got home safely.
Lord lift up my friend Lord,
you know her hurts
you know her pains
show her you are a rock
you are there for her
you will not fail
you will not change
Micah &:18-19
Who is a God like you,
pardoning iniquity and passing
over the transgression of the remnant of
His heritage?
He does not retain His anger forever,
because He Delights in mercy ( thank you Lord for that)
He will again have compassion on us, and will subdue our iniquities
You will cast all our sins
into the depths of the sea.

use me as your instrument Lord
that i may help her
and help others in need.
I lift up shelby and her little friend in mexico
your will be done Lord
I pray for my mama
i miss her
and she misses me
and please bring Todd back Lord


amen

a song for someone who needs somewhere to long for

i said goodbye to everyone today.
goodbye mom
goodbye eileen
good bye church

i'll see you later
but what is later now?

i cried when you left
i went shopping to forget
it didn't help

i told you opie
that i was sad that you left
you said you would move down here soon
i dont believe you

ammo is pregnant.
baby in the tummy
pregnant.
i'm going to be a somewhat auntie

i want to know how the world can
be so small
but when i need home
its so big

can you explain that to me?

eileen spend the night last night.
i like to snuggle.
i didn't sleep well
a nap will come later.
i have to run back
back to town

then a nap.

pasta in the caf today
but not in my tummy
i'm not going.

uncle luther's funeral was yesterday
i finally cried
i'm okay with death.
death brings life.
a better life.
and uncle lu-lu needed that.

i lost my homework list
therefore
i have no homework

(that s a lie)


i remember on the way home from
junior prom
alex talked about slow dancing in a parking lot
under
the stars

it sounds so wonderful right now.

does anyone want to dance?

I felt like a Bird...

Dr. Simons says that is a phrase that one would pick up off the sidewalk...so avoid it. But I can't think of anything else but that today, I felt like a bird.

Adventrous.
Foreign ( a bird flying south perhaps)
Free.
Imaginative.
Crazy.
Cute.
Goofy.

I felt like me...something I haven't really felt in awhile...most likely because I worry too much. Yup.
That's it.

I was talking to Matt Derr tonight and he thinks my writing is amazing. I put more thought and effort into homework assignments than this blog...but it was nice of him to say that. It encouraged me.

I went to Pine Mountain today...several times. Not physically but in my mind I travelled up north on the 101 until I arrived in Willits. I took a right on Baechtel and then another right on East Hill...kept to the left all the way until past the bridge where I came to the stop sign. And there I took a right on Center Valley Road, which turns into Ridgewood Road...my road. 4991 Ridgewood Road, to be exact. It was the only red mail box on the right hand side on all of Pine Mountain...until we painted it black and then it looked like all the others. I was thinking of God and his creation tonight...and how beautiful Pine Mountain is at night, when all the stars are visible and not covered by smog or city lights. The air is pure. The language innocent. I imagined myself in the field, with my arms lifted up...like I used to do in the night. It's funny how life still goes on there...I am no special part in its existance.

We really don't belong anywhere, do we? Save for the hand of God. That is where I am. Ultimately, I guess that is all that matters.

That is what I was talking to God about this evening...having to give myself up to him, having to trust him with my homeless self. It seems that I've always belonged somewhere, doing something...it's hard to be in that transitioning stage where you're just...there.

taking up space
taking up air

I tell myself that God is preparing me for something bigger...at least, that is my hope. So I work hard where I am...I write. I sell books. I do it (most of the time) with a smile on my face. I try to love God and love people. He knows how much I lack, how much I fail...but his grace is sufficient...yes, for even me.

Hallelujah.

My struggle, I find, is giving up yesterday and embracing today. And hoping for tomorrow. Jim Elliot said, "Live to the hilt every situation. Wherever you are, be all there." For some reason, these last couple weeks have been hard...but, as Job says, "He knows the way that I take, and when He has tested me, I will come forth as gold." (23:10)

God is bigger than my fears.
God is bigger than my dreams.
God is bigger than my insecurities.
God is bigger than all of my doubts.

I smile as I write this.
Abba, you know what I have and it isn't much. It's going to be wild seeing what you are going to do with a girl like me. :)

I can rest tonight knowing that God is faithful...

sweet dreams, Karine.
sweet dreams, Jonn.
Thanks for taking in a homeless person like me. May God richly bless you both...

typing is such a soothing sound

two blogs in one night?
gollly gee wow.
can it be?
and she's back to writing
her deemed way of 'normal'

yep

my hair is in its palmtree pony tail
my cheer bedtime shirt is on
and my eyes cant wait to begin the journey to dream land

but not just yet.

i've been thinking a lot about relationships
it seems with spring my longing for one returns
and it did.

i've said this before and i'll say it again
i want a strong christian
that i respect
and therefore follow.

jamie just asked if my blog was deep
and insightfully tonight.
i said no
i'm sweepy
and i am.
so i can't really go into detail like
i planned.
and its not like anyone reads this but us in 310
and its not like it's something we dont talk about.
i'm rambling. this is ridiculous.
night. blog. night.

nascar drivers and five dollar pizza

i type a certain way. i never like to finish the line, hoping in this, to leave more to the imagine
for those few seconds of blank to tumble across the mind. but not tonight. not right now. full lines dictate my topics of choice.things are tornado-fi-ing across my mind. one thought changes to another then another. I was sitting in the lincoln brewster concert when one image came to mind, over and over. i tried to wash it way, but it wouldn't leave. it didn't leave. i leaned over to jamie to say jamie she needs me now. she needs be now. go. said jamie. go. i went. i called her. and asked if she needed me. she asked why. i told her how i sat in chapel and i felt her pain. she said she would come over. this is where i am now. here. with her. Lord, let her mouth open and let her heart pour everything out. give me the words to say. my heart grieves. may the love from the Lord be shown to her tonight.

Riding the Waves

It's funny...
It's funny because tonight I long for home.
Willits home.
Pine Mountain home...
even before I read Karine's blog...
I imagined myself walking down the snake back road, down past Ammo's house, right across from the yellow house that sits upon the hill, keeping a hawks eye on whoever entered Pine Mountain...right across the street is where I would be...atop my own hill...watching the cars drive up the road.

That was my favorite spot.
To my right, there is an oak tree and below the hill, there lies the road.
The hill is not too steep...but below me and across from me there is a dirt road, the road that Lucas lives on...
Sometimes I would watch for his car...just to say hello.
To my right...
is Pine Mountain.
Trees upon trees...and yellow waves of grass. Black hawks soar high overhead and deer skitter away in fear of my intrusion.

I went there often...to think, to pray...to write. It was my own special spot...my own special world. Lucas knew of it...but he was the only one.
Dr. Simons says that childhood places are sacred.

I think my childhood ended in June of 2006.

Anyway...
I was missing home terribly tonight. My Pine Mountain home where everything was familiar and beautiful and full of adventures.
Memories...
so many of those too.

Michael Buble sings, "I want to come home."
But I don't have a home...I do...but I don't. Home is where the heart is...and my heart is with JB. But I think it would do me good to go back...to say good-bye since I never had a chance to do so. I'm weird like that. Doc says not to personalize inanimate objects...but I have a hard time not seeing my Journal or my special places as dear friends.

Peter Pan came by again tonight and told me that if I begged, I could probably go to Neverland with him. He says it that way to keep his own pride intact. He is an arrogant boy...but I told him no...I can't go to Neverland...not now, anyway. Maybe later...

I've never been there before but I have a feeling that it resembles Pine Mountain...

I'll visit in June.
And I'll say good-bye...to everything. My heart will stay here, of course, with JB...but my body will go, my mind will go...and when I come back to Los Angeles I can inform my heart that it can go on now...Pine Mountain hasn't changed and everything you've kept there...your dreams, your memories, pieces of your imagination...they'll be safe...living out their own lives and never remembering that you ever left.

My heart has found a home...
but I wonder if my body ever will?

praying for Mexico.
longing...oh, the deep longing to be there...

come on in, i'll give you shelter from the storm

I'm talking to Mallori right now.
I'm laughing ridiculously right now
because she does that to me.
Each of the best friends from Dub-town
makes me laugh in their own special way.

with talisha i cackle.
with mallori i laugh loudly
with jamie i almost pee my pants
with eileen i shake my head and laugh

Bob Dylan sings to me tonight
and the wind harmonizes as it blows
tossing the Santa Clarita Valley in a strange funk
my stomach growls angry for a lack of food.
my heater humms
and Bob sings louder, blocking out everthing else

i bought new leopard print flats today.
my old ones had to leave.
I feel like its a new life now.
Like jamie with her journal
my old shoes were comfortable.

my body is on my bed.
my mind is in my head.
but my heart, my heart is in Mexico this week.
my home church is in a village outside of Mexicali
and that is where I should be
The city of angels doesn't need me
hollywood doesn't cry when i leave
valencia is not my home.

they are on a missions trip
visititing a village I fell in love with
a village that helped me so much
when i was there to help

jamie and i decided today
we should pretend we were in mexico
we decided we should wear long skirts
and tennis shoes and speak spanish
and wear no makeup.

but we didn't.
i think its for the better
i would have cried tears
that were meant to fall on mexican soil.

everything happens for a reason, karine-e-poo
and its living like that
that can be so difficult
i'm here in the united states for a reason
but that doesn't explain why my tummy is rumbling so much
rumble
rumble
rumbl
rumb
rum
ru
r
rrrrrr

I found...

a mechanical number 2 pencil while cleaning...it had lead, which I was thankful for...

But Nameless One intimidates me tonight, for some reason. Perhaps it knows and is waiting for my confessions. It holds me more accountable than my other journal...it doesn't beg me to communicate, it just silently stares at me...with that look. You know the one...the one that says, "I know so just tell me anyway."

But I can't.
Not right now.

Backspace.
Backspace.
Backspace.

One quick motion. Using the eraser takes more effort...more time...
to think.

Pause.

Contemplate.

Right?

"Write," it says.

I wonder if my old friend, the leather one with root-beer stains, was just an ice-breaker for me to discover me...for the first time.

And I wonder...
if my new friend is deeper than my old friend...maybe it wants me to discover new places...
dark
secret
places.

My Bible is on top of my journal, casually placed their by my hands as I tidied up my desk earlier this evening. I swear it is a conspiracy...
His Word
wanting my word.

But my word...
my words don't know where to come from! I think they all want to rush out at one time, in one breath...

Exhaustion.
Brokeness.
Anger.
Bitterness.
Loveliness...

All at once, in one breath, in one sweep of thought...
Words in a blender.
Words in a salad spinner
mixing together...altogether separate.

It isn't easy, you know...
it isn't easy being honest...
with myself.
And though it's silly because He knows everything anyway, sometimes it is hard to be honest with Him as well...

I don't like faceing issues...confronting problems in my life. I wish I could forget about them, think happy thoughts, sprinkle some pixie dust all over me and fly, fly, fly away to Neverland...But I can't...life doesn't allow me that luxury.
Love doesn't allow me that luxury.

Love.
I really do love him, you know. So much so that I step out of my comfy spots and become completely vulnerable before him...and he realizes that...and I am thankful that he is sensitive and forgiving.

I keep telling Nameless One that tomorrow I will write...
But it won't wait until tomorrow...I think it's trying to tell me that it...what I need to face... can't wait for tomorrow. "Not all of it," it assures me. "But a start."

So I will finish here, my friends...I will finish here and pick up my modishly clear number 2 pencil and write. What will I write?
Anything.
Everything.
I will write of pirates and mermen...of falling Alnilams and fuscha painted sunsets...I'll write of the boy in white, the one I met next to the tire swing when I was a little girl...I'll write of movement and sound and the shape of love. I'll write of purple cotton candy and big comfy beds...fluffy pillows and all.

I'll be me...
I'll write me.

I'll let you know how it goes. :)
Good night, friends.

In the Garden

Like any other morning, I woke up today, talked with Jonn over the IM, went in the shower and readied myself for the day. What clothes to wear, what shoes to wear, not really caring about my hair because it does it's own thing anyway, eye-liner or no eye-liner...menial things that have predictably become mundane.

I wish I could be a flower...at any stage in it's life a flower can be considered beautiful, or at the least, pretty. Holding the seed in your hand, you know what is to come out of it. You may not see it yet, it will take time, but soon...soon a bud will spring forth...that seed holds so much promise; it is the hope of things to come. And even when it becomes a round bud and the flower is curled up inside, waiting to push its beauty out, to thrust itself forward in one glorious motion, even then it is beautiful. I suppose more than anything that the hope is what makes the flower so enjoyable, even when it is not much to look at. Because there is that hope of a new bloom, a pretty little flower. And once the flower has peeked it's tiny head out from under its hiding place, there is no stopping it...there is no stopping you from waiting anxiously, anxiously until all of it is revealed. And then it happens...you wake up one day to a full flower, its new life shimmering in the sun, petals as soft as silk and as smooth as rain...and there is no denying that this is life...it is not materialistic, we are not machines created by chance...not even that flower is created by chance...look at the beauty. How can you escape it? Its fragrance is soothing yet bold. "I am here," the flower says. In every way it can it announces its arrival...

But so humbly it does...it comes without grandeur, without the eyes of nature scrutinizing its growth...the flower is not royalty, it is just there...being beautiful...being what is was created to be.

I want to be a flower. I want to not be watched by the world and being told that my purple petals are not satisfactory in a red petal world. Don't tell me what I lack...I already know. I just want to be...I want to be. I want to be beautiful. But not by your standards...I know those are impossible to reach.

I keep reminding myself that I am not in a competition...I can't look any different than what I am without denying myself the basic privilege of just being me. I don't want to look like you, world, I don't want to have to change myself to make you happy...to trick you into thinking that I am one of you, that I am the beauty queen next door.

I am a flower.
Maybe not a rose.
Maybe not a lily.
Maybe a daisy.
Yes.
A daisy suits me...maybe that is why I've always loved daisies...

you wont know

jamie tells me my blogs are sad.
sad blogs, sad
but i can't explain it.
the second i begin to blog
a melancholy dew forms
and my blogs become depressing and sad
according to jamie

so lets write a happy blog

i'm wearing a pretty dress tomorrow.
i'm quite excited.
i've been waiting for about three weeks to wear it.
and i have a massive sweet tooth.
but its not as massive as the homework i have to do.

can you guess whats coming next?


tooodles.

It happened...

Jake is enlisting.
Not quite sure how I feel about that...no, wait. I am terrified by it...but I don't allow myself to dwell on it, to think of what could happen to him. I think he's looking for purpose in life...maybe he feels like he has nothing going for him and so he thinks enlisting is the way to go...

But I don't know.
Jake has always been interested in the army, in enlisting, for as long as I can remember. We used to play army all the time when we were younger but doesn't every child? But there's something about him, something that I have never been able to figure out. Something I can't quite place my finger on...

A sadness about Jacob.
A determination about Jacob.

Maybe it's his red hair that set him apart...

My grandfather was in the army.
My dad was in the army.
And my step-grandpa is a Marine.

But my great-grandfather was a Baptist minister and so were the previous 5 generations...

I guess Jake decided which legacy to continue...

Not that one is necessarily better than the other. Jake will make us proud. He does make me proud. He's smart and logical...tough and disciplined.

I love America.
And so does Jake...

I just hate to see him go...because there's a good chance that he may not come back.

take apart the captain and the flock

my mom is up this week. the funeral is on saturday.
she was coming up before the funeral.
i wish the 'what if' question didn't haunt me

what if's haunt me at night.
when the sun sets and nestles its head to bed
the moon comes up and brings thoughts of uncontent material

when i sit and blog i feel 'what if's return to my head.

i used to have an imaginary friend
crissy the cheetah.
she rode to school with me

i used to believe that months had 6 weeks

i used to believe that the civil war was in the 1600's

i used to believe that people would never let me down.

i used to believe i was untouchable, invincable.


then i looked in the mirror

i realized all my imperfections
every last one that i could do nothing to fix.

nothing

to
fix.

but thats okay. Jesus saves.
Jesus fixes.
Jesus corrects

( )


i have strange thoughts running around my head.
certain boys keep popping up



my home church is in mexico.
my heart is in mexico now.
I pray for their safety and impact on the village

autumns symbolize death. autumn in spring

my great uncle died last night. my uncle luther no longer is, know he belongs as a was. I still haven't cried yet. My mind touches on the subject and like a stove too hot it darts away, to things beautiful, things alive. I dont want to think about it. I dont want to dwell on it. I didn't want to start this weekoff like this. My uncle lu-lu gone. the first of my grands on my fathers side to die. One then another, will they drop like flies? What will they take with them to the grave? In a way i'm ashamed of my grandfather, but i was so proud of uncleluther. they both came over from armenia after the genocides, their father having just died for their country. My great uncle embraced his country, doing many things for the armenian people, eventually even opening a museum. but my grandfather fled from everything armenian. he changed his name from emanuel eskijian to john bennett, pulling the name from the phone book.
everything that came from my grandfather had no touch of a man named emanuel.
john bennett had a family
elizabeth, john, arlene
speak only english
know only of armenian food
then my sister and i came
my parents gave me an armenian name
karine
and an armenian second middle name
eskijian
and thats all i have
i have never heard my grandfather utter one word about armenia
and few times i have heard him swear in turkish
but that ends there
and thats what i am sad
sad for not listening to uncle luther more to learn
of my heritage
because i know my grandfather will never tell.
good bye uncle luther.

Champagne

Good morning, world.
Well...
technicallly it isn't morning anymore...12:32 pm. But the day has been long already; last night and this morning blending into one long hour...a tiring one. An exciting one? Yes, I suppose it was an exciting one. Karine and I saw the "Willits people" as they are on their way to Mexico. We ate dinner at Hometown buffet and later at the hotel we put our legs in the hot tub.

I like the feeling of bubbles...I like them in my mouth, I like their subtle caresses on my legs, I like blowing them through the magic wand...I just like bubbles. There was a time in my life when I desperately wanted a bubble machine in my room so I could have bubbles all the time. But my daddy, my practical and white-walls-only Dad told me that was ridiculous. So, my dream has not yet been fulfilled. I always thought it would be cool to have bubbles everywhere at my wedding...but we'll see.

Bubbles are fun.

I feel "commonplace" today. I think it's because I'm tired. Karine lies on her bed, across the room from me with her coat-of-many-colors blanket draped over her. Do you remember the Zebra gum? The kind with the different colored stripes...in the package that usually contained tattoos? That's what her fleece blanket looks like. She's tired too...soon she will be in dream land. I want to sleep...but I want to write too. Not in my journal though as my mechanical yellow number 2 pencils have run out of lead. I don'twrite in my journal with anything but number 2 lead...it's just this...quirk that I have...rather an obsession. If one finds ink in my journal, it usually means that something terrible happened and for some reason I want it to stand out...but that seldom happens...and sometimes when terrible things DO happen, I conceal them in the safety of number 2 lead...they don't stand out but are secure in the shadows.

My roses!
My splended pumpkin colored roses...SO beautiful...I love the color...I love the way they smell...I know this isn't the first bouquet of roses...it's just that everytime I receive them, I feel like its the first time. I'm astounded, virtually speechess, by JB's love and thoughtfulness towards me. We've been together 7 months...7 glorious months...each day better than the one before... :)... but I'm sure YOU don't want to hear about that do you? I could go on forever, devote a whole blog to it...

I can't take it anymore...I'm so tired. Karine looks comfortable. I think I'll purchase a ticket for for the next train to Dreamland...see you there.

sounds like fidol

so i had some really deep thoughts today about the world searching for truth.
but i dont feel too hot right now.
and lauren is here now.
so maybe on easter sunday

Twinkling Things

I wish I could paint the moon. Paint the moon pretty that is. I saw it on my drive home tonight, high up there hanging from it's perch, an eerie yellow...almost as if a dust cloud were covering it, making it sepia-toned and antiquish. Dark clouds surrounded it, dark clouds spread thin, purple tinted, shadowed and grey. It was beautiful.

I felt smaller than what I already do...
More incapable than what I already am...

I want to go to the moon. I know I joke about going to the moon but I really want to go...not so much to the moon as to it's home, up there, in the sky, far away, so dark and mysterious...let me go. I want to see where it lives, where it hangs it's top-hat in the sky, I want to meet it's twinkling neighbors, those twinkling lights that ride on wings of splendor, those burning embers that shoot across the sky.

I want to capture star dust in my old coke bottles that I boxed up and gave away...the ones that sat on my windowsill in my Pine Mountain home...and collected dust and around one's blown glass neck there hung a corsage...a pink carnation from my junior prom...I want to sprinkle the star dust all over my room and then watch it twinkle when I turn off the lights...my own special universe before me. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so small...

I would feel accomlished.
And worthy of my keep here on this earth...this earth...this tiny planet amidst a gazillion galaxies, black holes and all...

But this isn't really my home...no...not really. I am but a sojourner...just passing through. You won't remember me waving good-bye to you when angels come to take me away, you won't remember my trip to the moon or the star dust that I collected. You'll box up my photo's and bottle my star-dust and hide them in a dark, musty basement...in the corner where all the other forgotten's of your life are hidden..."She was just a temporary tenant," you'll say.

But it's ok.
Because I don't know if I'll miss you...
Maybe I will but the anticipation of seeing HIM...
It makes all the rigors of this life a little less rigorous, knowing that this life, as small, as incapable, as unaccomplished that this life is...He will still welcome me. Me. Jamie...plain Jane and all...all of me, from the tiniest hint of brilliance all the way down to the dirtiest speck of...bleh.

I see the moon from a distance...if I could hear it, I bet it would sound like a violin or a cello...With my finger,I trace the outline of it's imperfect sphere and I imagine myself going up, up, up...higher than any plane...than any star would wish to fall from...I just want to touch it, to get close enough and touch it's etheral face. It would remember me...it would remember me from a past dream, and we would talk like old friends...and he would allow me to bask in the light of his brilliance.

I admire the sky.
Appreciate it's depth, it's beauty.
It brings me pleasure...and comfort...it keeps me dreaming.

When I die, let me be your star, that one little star that hung from a simple tack, dangling on simple white kite string, high up in the not-so-simple sky next to the not-so-simple moon...that one little star that fell down to the earth and slowly faded away.

Turn me into star dust, would you...

everyone's so focused clearly with sunshine

I'm not writing to appease some deep longing in my soul. I'm blogging because my roommate made me. I want some yerba mate right now, i want to fill it with soy milk until the tea becomes a comforting color. I want to let the grains of unprocessed sugar fall into the cup, to swirl and spin all the way down and to settle on the bottom and wait until i rediscover them. I want my friends by my side. I dont want to be alone right now. I miss Mallori, I miss Talisha, i miss Eileen, I miss jamie because she is at work. I want us all together again. I want to be with these people so badly. We would be drinking mate now, we minus jamie, she doesn't like mate. But we would drink it, and reminisce as only young folks do. We would probably quote some SNL skit and some dumb thing we did in the past. We'd remember the times we went to the river, mexico missions trips, times in Talisha's yellow house, memories from our church, BSB songs, Jack's Mannequin lyrics, hippies, willits-ness. My eyes of blue dart from my screen to the red bag on my top shelf. I read the title Mendo Mate, and i know if i just opened the bag and shut my eyes. If i could just breathe in, a deep deep breath, and let the smell travel to my heart, i just wouldn't miss them so much.


I have to be content


Thats the issue at hand. I'm growing up. I'm a 'big girl' now. Hopefully not in clothes but in maturity. I will be responsible I want fudge, but thats the PMSing Princess inside me talking again. I feel like my blog is headed towards the boring side now.....blah. what can heal it?

HAIKUS!

reading is my pal
white socks keep my feet warm
heat is nice, real nice.



lets imagine an American Lit class in a hundred years interpreting my deep ponderings here. Well the prof would say, pacing the carpet, 'this is a poem about deep longing. Lets decode it. this is the Rosetta stone, you are the archaeologist. what does it mean to you? what inner longings fill your soul when you read it? do you think this poet had any religious convections? Is this a cry for help? What does 'white socks' mean?'

it means nothing. i'm lying on my bed in white socks+ the heater is on, I love the heater, i like to read, i was reading my PR textbook until i started blogging and it was so facinating, thats why reading is my pal otherwise i couldn't read.
Interpreting others work scares me. Especially art work. How can i see through their eyes? how can i breathe their breath? paint beauty with their brushs? how can i understand if i've never lived it? can i understand the pain of losing a child until i feel the pain of childbirth on my hips?
i dont know.

The Pondering Heart

I feel like my words just go swoosh... Where do these words go? Does anyone pay attention to them? And if they did, why would anyone care? I have a lot of things written in my journal...but they are things for me...well, not all for me but for the most part. I sometimes feel odd writing on here...my journal knows me (is getting to know me...we just met, you know). I feel like I'm writing to an invisible audience...whereas in my journal...well, it's special. I guess I'm just not sure what to write....

like a band in my head

i'm sleepy and i feel like i could sleep forever.

Nameless One

"Make a wish list like someone who can do anything, and pray it to God because He can do anything." --Laney Stroup (student at TMC)

I have fallen in love with my journal. I don't know it's name so for now, I address it as Nameless One. I had another journal but it's pages have been filled...virtually every line scribbled with fine pencil lead...it's been paper-clipped with memories and stained by root-beer and tears. We went through a lot together this past semester...it knew me very well...I have learned all there is about it...I've memorized the dog-eared pages and remember distinctly when I scribbled "J-Me" on the front...I remember the Sunday morning Alina put the sticker of JB and I on there...it saw me through my nervous wanderings...It heard my prayers to God before I went to Bible Study the first time with JB...it knows exactly what I wrote about our first kiss and my plane trip up to Medford to visit my family...it knows everything. And I was sad to see it's last page scribbled with words that I had put down...hopefully they meant something worthwhile to the journal...I didn't even have enough room to say good-bye but maybe it doesn't know I am gone...maybe it thinks my pages are filled too. Maybe in it's eyes, we have reached a mutual agreement to stop life...wouldn't that be nice? To stop life? I guess in some ways it could be nice...but there are area's in my life that I am ready and eager to move forward in. Life is good. Change is inevitable...just take it like a fine sip of wine.

JB gave me a new journal for my birthday. This may sound silly to you but I didn't want to write in it...at all...at least, not for a very long time. When I first saw it, I was enthralled and captivated by it's sophistication...it is so pretty and fine...but my heart was still with my simple cheap leather journal that I got for 4 or 5 dollars at a Walden Book Store up in Oregon...I poured myself into it's pages...and in it, I found a bit of myself that I had never discovered before. Closing it on it's final page was a sad day for me...no joke.

But this journal...this creamy textured journal with smooth buttermilk pages...this Nameless One...well...I have fallen in love with it. My yellow number two enjoys it's pages, it is hungry to fill the emptiness with my thoughts and wanderings...just the other night, I woke up and my hands ached to write...it was in the middle of the night and I got up out of my bed and, I think because of my grogginess, my eyes were transfixed on a patch of moonlight that sqeezed through the blinds into our room. It was beautiful, eerie though. And I couldn't take my eyes off of it...I stumbled my way to the bathroom ( I don't do well in the middle of the night or in the early morning) and I remember thinking that I was thankful that my feet had memorized the path because I don't think I could have gotten us there...and I spoke that in my head...but I thought to myself....and yes this is silly...I thought to myself, "my journal would like to know about the moonlight I saw and how good my feet are with directions..." So the next morning, that is what I did. I told my journal all about my midnight excursion...and I think it smiled. I think it wants to get to know me. And I yearn for my thoughts to find their home...somewhere. And my journal seems like a safe place, don't you think?

A sample of Friday's entry:
"I suppose you [the journal] are more of a symbol to me than anything else,a way of escape for a moment's repose...a place in which I can write, reflect, and then recollect my thoughts in the solitude of reason."

Thank you, Nameless One. You are turning out to be a valuable friend.

i'm holding out, i'm not getting an answer. I want to do right by you

my eyes are red, the product of raining tears. I wear a plastic tiara on my head, just for kicks, but it does not make me smile. A tough day, one would call it. My eyes are still puffy regardless of the sign of royality on my head. This proves that princesses have bad days too. I think we found the apartment Jessie, Mia, Carly and myself will lease today. I saw my dad, as he began the treck to my old home. I cried when that man left me. I cried because I missed him. I cried because he gave up so much so i could have a good childhood. He never once thought of himself. He never had any spoiling growing up, but he spoiled us. For that reason I wept and still weep. The idea of truly moving out scares me. Home has always been so safe, so comfortable, but the real world keeps knocking on my door and i know this umbrella can only keep me dry for so long. I told both of my parents how much they meant to me, and I cried more. When i told my mom about moving out, i cried. The tears from my eyes are like the stars in the heavens. only they fall more frequently than a shooting star. Wishing on them brings nothing and discussing them only causes multiplication to happen. Like this blog. They form, fall, and flatten to the earth, each one only a fraction of the emotions inside. I like to imagine each tear full with salten water is carrying away my pain, taking the salt out my wound. I wear my tiara, and I wear it well it