Thursday, May 28, 2009
humanity yearns for acceptance
i keep running into people that tell me I'm not afraid to be who i am, but they are wrong. just like every other person on this earth, i strive for acceptance, not by wearing name brand clothing, but by being different. i have a different way of thinking about things, so i learned early that fancy clothes and friends in high places wont get me anywhere, so i created my own action plan- and so far its working. i do hesitate to be myself, and just because my cover up story is different from everyone else's, doesn't mean its any truer. my "weirdness" is just another reality shield; nobody is truly "weird," Ive asked them. all the people i know that others consider to be strange have told me that they are that way on purpose, and i dint blame them- its a very safe place to be- despite what most people think, people dint make fun of us, a number of people actually admire the misfits. this is an international problem; a missionary i met from Ukraine told me that his niece asked him to buy her some fancy American tennis shoes while he was in the states so that she could fit in better (sound familiar?). i guess in a way, i am afraid to be who i am; the parts of me that do not exceed ordinary, i hide. to pick a random example- chick flicks, all girls like chick flicks deep down, because its their nature, but if someone didn't want to be like all girls, they would pretend they didn't like them. i dint really have a good closing sentence, so... The End.
the beautiful letdown
there are a number of people that i used to percieve as "perfect", not perfect as in they dont make mistakes, but that they are where i want to be in life- good role models. but in the last few weeks God has been showing me that none of them are good role models. its a slow and painful process, but i know how good it is for me. despite previous letdowns i keep trying to find other people that fit my bill, but i just cant. i geuss God is trying to show me that Jesus is the only perfect role model- wich i knew all allong in the back of my head, but am just now really understanding- but that still doesn't seem to satify my human need to find other people to admire. oh well, ill figure it out one day.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Welcome, Mrs. Burn!
This is my blog. All my secret observations on life, and just everyday teenage existence get jotted down here. I really thought that you would enjoy reading and commenting on my postings, because, well, I don't know why, I just thought you would. Until now, only my parents knew about this place but I thought if anyone would appreciate it, it would be you. Feel free to look back as far as you like, and please comment on anything that piques your interest, I love to get comments (good or bad). I update my blog on average about once a week, so there is almost always a new post. I'm really excited about adding another reader my list. Have fun!
Relational Christianty vs. Philosophical Christianity
everybody always says that I'm so spiritual and stuff, but really I'm not, not in the relational sense of the word i mean. I really enjoy the philosophical side of Christianity, but I'm still struggling to grasp the whole relationship thing. I think that's why no one is really a professional christian, because you can never master a relationship. there are lots of so called "religious scholars", that are very academically accomplished in terms of the Bible, but i dont think anyone can ever really be superior to anyone in the Christian world
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
"Oh my God" Jars of Clay
Oh my God, look around this place
Your fingers reach around the bone
You set the break and set the tone
Flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain
All fools say, "Oh my God"
.
Oh my God, Why are we so afraid?
We make it worse when we don't bleed
There is no cure for our disease
Turn a phrase, and rise again
Or fake your death and only tell your closest friend
Oh my God.
.
Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief
Weddings, boats and alibis
All drift away, and a mother cries
.
Liars and fools; sons and failures
Thieves will always say
Lost and found; ailing wanderers
Healers always say
Whores and angels; men with problems
Leavers always say
Broken hearted; separated
Orphans always say
War creators; racial haters
Preachers always say
Distant fathers; fallen warriors
Givers always say
Pilgrim saints; lonely widows
Users always say
Fearful mothers; watchful doubters
Saviors always say
Sometimes I cannot forgive
And these days, mercy cuts so deep
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep
While I lay, I dream we're better,
Scales were gone and faces light
When we wake, we hate our brother
We still move to hurt each other
Sometimes I can close my eyes,
And all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing,
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder
We all feel the need for wonder
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the thunder
.
Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven
All the times I thought to reach up
All the times I had to give
Babies underneath their beds
Hospitals that cannot treat
all the wounds that money causes,
All the comforts of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children - this is our inheritance
All the rage of watching mothers - this is our greatest offense
.
Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God
.
.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The Ivory Carving
This is a cool illustration that I found in a book, that I thought some of you might enjoy. I know one of my future readers already knows about it though. The context is this guy and his sister are talking about why she has been cold to her dad after he remarried…
She turned away from the computer and, looking straight at me, said the strangest thing. “Connor, suppose for this Christmas I give you something very beautiful- say, a beautiful ivory carving.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” I said.
“This gift has been made with care and given to you to keep forever. It is intricately and deeply carved. There are no rough edges. All of it is polished, and all of it is pure ivory.”
“What would be wrong with that?”
“Nothing would be wrong with it if it came with instructions and a warning.”
“What instructions?” “That it must be oiled now and then or it will get brittle, and little pieces will break off.”
“And what’s the warning?”
“That ivory is a living organism, so it is bound to change as it ages. Ivory darkens. A day comes when you have to put this beautiful thing away. So not knowing about maintenance and aging, you put it in a drawer and close the drawer. Time goes by, and the gift giver wants to see his gift. So you take it out of the drawer, and both of you are surprised that it isn’t what it was. It doesn’t look the same. Without maintenance, delicate pieces have broken off, and some of the places where the carving was very deep have darkened to the color of a tobacco stain. You haven’t been careless; you have just never been warned about the changes that happen with time, and you haven’t been taught proper maintenance. But you know one thing- you are never going to put this gift on display again.”
Margaret and I looked at each other. “You’re talking about love, aren’t you?”
She turned away from the computer and, looking straight at me, said the strangest thing. “Connor, suppose for this Christmas I give you something very beautiful- say, a beautiful ivory carving.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” I said.
“This gift has been made with care and given to you to keep forever. It is intricately and deeply carved. There are no rough edges. All of it is polished, and all of it is pure ivory.”
“What would be wrong with that?”
“Nothing would be wrong with it if it came with instructions and a warning.”
“What instructions?” “That it must be oiled now and then or it will get brittle, and little pieces will break off.”
“And what’s the warning?”
“That ivory is a living organism, so it is bound to change as it ages. Ivory darkens. A day comes when you have to put this beautiful thing away. So not knowing about maintenance and aging, you put it in a drawer and close the drawer. Time goes by, and the gift giver wants to see his gift. So you take it out of the drawer, and both of you are surprised that it isn’t what it was. It doesn’t look the same. Without maintenance, delicate pieces have broken off, and some of the places where the carving was very deep have darkened to the color of a tobacco stain. You haven’t been careless; you have just never been warned about the changes that happen with time, and you haven’t been taught proper maintenance. But you know one thing- you are never going to put this gift on display again.”
Margaret and I looked at each other. “You’re talking about love, aren’t you?”
E. L. Konigsburg
Silent to the Bone
Silent to the Bone
Monday, May 18, 2009
It's raining now...
this is another miscellaneous story that i wrote when it was raining really hard and Lucy was spasing out...
“It’s raining now,” I said to no one in particular. The house had been empty since early this morning, and I was beginning to wish I had someone to talk to. That brought me back to earlier this morning, when I became so hopelessly bored that I started talking to my pencils. Well, I wasn’t exactly talking to them, I was making a sort of skit. The dumber the funnier, I always say, so it was getting pretty hectic by the time I noticed about three people gaping at me. Now, over six hours later, I was missing my devoted, if not slightly amused audience. I was yanked back to the present when an excruciatingly loud clap of thunder, interrupted my reminiscing. I drummed my fingers on my extended knee, while I tried to drift back into retrospect mood once again. This time it was Max, my husky-poodle mix that woke me, when he darted under my chair, nearly knocking me over due to his failure to recognize his larger-than-average body size. It became apparent that trying to reach a state of subconsciousness was virtually impossible at this point, due to the fact that my chair had mysteriously started to vibrate, and a large puddle of drool was slowly accumulating directly under me. I resentfully rendered my throne of three hours to the terror-infested pile of fur that I had previously mistaken as a dog. You see, according to early civilization observation, a dog is supposed to be a loyal and protective friend. Staring down now at my sad excuse of a dog, with his pointy ears and curly hair, his dainty paws and steel-blue eyes now shut tightly to ward away any unwanted natural occurrence, I was reminded, once again of how much I love him. Such a visually odd looking creature had obviously been made just for me.
“It’s raining now,” I said to no one in particular. The house had been empty since early this morning, and I was beginning to wish I had someone to talk to. That brought me back to earlier this morning, when I became so hopelessly bored that I started talking to my pencils. Well, I wasn’t exactly talking to them, I was making a sort of skit. The dumber the funnier, I always say, so it was getting pretty hectic by the time I noticed about three people gaping at me. Now, over six hours later, I was missing my devoted, if not slightly amused audience. I was yanked back to the present when an excruciatingly loud clap of thunder, interrupted my reminiscing. I drummed my fingers on my extended knee, while I tried to drift back into retrospect mood once again. This time it was Max, my husky-poodle mix that woke me, when he darted under my chair, nearly knocking me over due to his failure to recognize his larger-than-average body size. It became apparent that trying to reach a state of subconsciousness was virtually impossible at this point, due to the fact that my chair had mysteriously started to vibrate, and a large puddle of drool was slowly accumulating directly under me. I resentfully rendered my throne of three hours to the terror-infested pile of fur that I had previously mistaken as a dog. You see, according to early civilization observation, a dog is supposed to be a loyal and protective friend. Staring down now at my sad excuse of a dog, with his pointy ears and curly hair, his dainty paws and steel-blue eyes now shut tightly to ward away any unwanted natural occurrence, I was reminded, once again of how much I love him. Such a visually odd looking creature had obviously been made just for me.
