some verses of songs -praises to God
"you have caused flowers to grow in my fields and you have brought new and bright colors to my head"
"..and i rest here underneath your hands"
"you made all my deserts fill with gardens...you made all my deserts with gardens
you made all my ashes turn to beauty... you made all my ashes turn to beauty"
hebrews 11:1
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.
i ask, humbly and unashamedly, for your blessings
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Monday, January 16, 2006
same old same old
whats the use of restating old problems? the grandeur of reviewing continuing, pressing pain? nothing, it seems that only person who doesn't get tired of it is God. Ive worn myself out ..again..and again with the same old same old.. ill stop telling people whats going on..because really.. who gives a after hearing the same story the 7'th time? how unique does the problem sound? not very unique.. in fact, it begins to look very sad and pathetic. Do i want to look sad and pathetic? haha..rhetorical dumb question
..it reminds me of that thing i learned somewhere, cant remember, school sometime. in the bible about the old lady who pestered the King with pleas..and finally the King answered her just to get her off his back.
yeah.. so taking that strategy with God, although it seems very impersonal often. Like talking to a stone door which follows me around.
Its unbelievably terrifying, life right now. It actually takes a lot different emotional straining than just being a patient trying to keep sane. When I'm sick, all I had to do, was keep a certain state of mind, occupy the immediate attentative mind.. and tolerate physical circumstances. Three things to do..and they become a habit. As for now..everything is interrelated to everything else. or so it seems. i dont really get a break to stand apart and think.. always sometime to do do do.
Always have to pick up the pace, improve improve improve.
I feel like.. for a lack of a better word, crap when going through the college match book...looking through all the things that is required of people, and i coincidentally was thrusted into the cancer world smack dab in the middle of my high school years. So as a result ..i suck in a lot of areas. My math is horrible, i never understood it correctly because i never got real proper foundation. My english grammar is horrible because i didnt..really..get tested on it..understand..or applied it when i learned it. My after school programs/clubs suck..because I didnt have oppurtunities. the list goes on..its much more easier complaining about generalities, that way my problems look worse than they might be. No, ha..thats not entirely true. theres just a lot more of problems I'm ashamed to talk about.
Then there are dilema's which relate to, or are a product of me going to school.. which are dilema's not problems... but take up a lot of thinking compacity, easier subjects to dwell upon.
No matter how hard I try-it doesnt add up. But its a sin to give up, so too bad.
there are a lot of endless circle of dooms, id write them all down in some desperate hopes that maybe theyll dissipate and float freely..but in vain.
blah blah ...bitter angst... blah blah blah.. i guess thats what im trying to say.. that..that would be the main thing to take away from this post.
yet.. in a bizzare freakish series events ive been blessed in ways that kinda snuck up on me. if your really curious.. email me..
right now would be a good time to end with a quote:
Perez: An old ass knows more than a young colt.
so all you old asses, please lend me your wisdom! :D
...hey at least i can write..or type. whatever.
..it reminds me of that thing i learned somewhere, cant remember, school sometime. in the bible about the old lady who pestered the King with pleas..and finally the King answered her just to get her off his back.
yeah.. so taking that strategy with God, although it seems very impersonal often. Like talking to a stone door which follows me around.
Its unbelievably terrifying, life right now. It actually takes a lot different emotional straining than just being a patient trying to keep sane. When I'm sick, all I had to do, was keep a certain state of mind, occupy the immediate attentative mind.. and tolerate physical circumstances. Three things to do..and they become a habit. As for now..everything is interrelated to everything else. or so it seems. i dont really get a break to stand apart and think.. always sometime to do do do.
Always have to pick up the pace, improve improve improve.
I feel like.. for a lack of a better word, crap when going through the college match book...looking through all the things that is required of people, and i coincidentally was thrusted into the cancer world smack dab in the middle of my high school years. So as a result ..i suck in a lot of areas. My math is horrible, i never understood it correctly because i never got real proper foundation. My english grammar is horrible because i didnt..really..get tested on it..understand..or applied it when i learned it. My after school programs/clubs suck..because I didnt have oppurtunities. the list goes on..its much more easier complaining about generalities, that way my problems look worse than they might be. No, ha..thats not entirely true. theres just a lot more of problems I'm ashamed to talk about.
Then there are dilema's which relate to, or are a product of me going to school.. which are dilema's not problems... but take up a lot of thinking compacity, easier subjects to dwell upon.
No matter how hard I try-it doesnt add up. But its a sin to give up, so too bad.
there are a lot of endless circle of dooms, id write them all down in some desperate hopes that maybe theyll dissipate and float freely..but in vain.
blah blah ...bitter angst... blah blah blah.. i guess thats what im trying to say.. that..that would be the main thing to take away from this post.
yet.. in a bizzare freakish series events ive been blessed in ways that kinda snuck up on me. if your really curious.. email me..
right now would be a good time to end with a quote:
Perez: An old ass knows more than a young colt.
so all you old asses, please lend me your wisdom! :D
...hey at least i can write..or type. whatever.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Psalm 40 and life
"He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God"
"Then I said, 'Behold, I come;
In the scroll of the book it is written of me. "
"Let those be appalled because of their shame
Who say to me, 'Aha, aha!'"
"Since I am afflicted and needy
Let the Lord be mindful of me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
Do not delay, O my God."
I think..this psalm is my favorite.. it involves singing, music..which i would deem is one of my favorite things in life and mourning, submitting a plea before the holiest of hollies.
it seems that i submit pleas before the Father, all the time, i cannot do anything without beggin for help. if only i could feel him there always. instead of having to feel panic.. i started with a LOT of thoughts.. this is what became of them.. not very satisfied.
"Then I said, 'Behold, I come;
In the scroll of the book it is written of me. "
"Let those be appalled because of their shame
Who say to me, 'Aha, aha!'"
"Since I am afflicted and needy
Let the Lord be mindful of me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
Do not delay, O my God."
I think..this psalm is my favorite.. it involves singing, music..which i would deem is one of my favorite things in life and mourning, submitting a plea before the holiest of hollies.
it seems that i submit pleas before the Father, all the time, i cannot do anything without beggin for help. if only i could feel him there always. instead of having to feel panic.. i started with a LOT of thoughts.. this is what became of them.. not very satisfied.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Killing me softly
maybe youve heard the song.. it has been sung by a couple of people.. most recently by lauryn hill and the fugees..
its a song that holds a lot of memories, i hadnt really thought about it so much. (surprised? hardly.. "something i hadnt thought about much till now, and now im going to write about it.. what an overused suject intro)
it might have a totally different meaning..but the beautiful thing about songs, is that you can take them and mold them to your situation in life.
right now, im re-adjusting to life here in america. performing the unforgivable act of losing myself in the culture so i can get situated. i basically loathed the thought of doing this exact thing, when living in turkey. ironic like a lot of things in my daily routine. im learning a lot of things constantly.. i hardly get the time to write them down too.
lates thing is that i feel used. overused. like a elmer's glue bottle (they have a cow on it..that looks like the cousin to the 'la vache qui rit' cheese) ..and the bottles almost empty and the glue is dry on the tip part.. and because its dry -you cant tell if theres any left.. and your trying to take the stuff off only to find you have to take the whole top off. frustrated? ye ..why? because elmer's glue bottles are usually so easy to use, arent designed to get all complicated and dry and empty and sticky and what-not..
yes. i feel like glue.. or no-more-left glue...i dont feel it all the time.. just, enough that it makes me feel ardent unsatisfaction (closest emotion to it)
me me me me me.. so repetitive
i wish i could write about ..poverty and desolation in asia/africa, but at the moment- i dont believe that writing on such a subject would change anything. plus, even though i think its horrible..it does not rise up emotions causing me to want to express
(insert guilt that should be felt)
i wana write more.. but i cant
its a song that holds a lot of memories, i hadnt really thought about it so much. (surprised? hardly.. "something i hadnt thought about much till now, and now im going to write about it.. what an overused suject intro)
it might have a totally different meaning..but the beautiful thing about songs, is that you can take them and mold them to your situation in life.
right now, im re-adjusting to life here in america. performing the unforgivable act of losing myself in the culture so i can get situated. i basically loathed the thought of doing this exact thing, when living in turkey. ironic like a lot of things in my daily routine. im learning a lot of things constantly.. i hardly get the time to write them down too.
lates thing is that i feel used. overused. like a elmer's glue bottle (they have a cow on it..that looks like the cousin to the 'la vache qui rit' cheese) ..and the bottles almost empty and the glue is dry on the tip part.. and because its dry -you cant tell if theres any left.. and your trying to take the stuff off only to find you have to take the whole top off. frustrated? ye ..why? because elmer's glue bottles are usually so easy to use, arent designed to get all complicated and dry and empty and sticky and what-not..
yes. i feel like glue.. or no-more-left glue...i dont feel it all the time.. just, enough that it makes me feel ardent unsatisfaction (closest emotion to it)
me me me me me.. so repetitive
i wish i could write about ..poverty and desolation in asia/africa, but at the moment- i dont believe that writing on such a subject would change anything. plus, even though i think its horrible..it does not rise up emotions causing me to want to express
(insert guilt that should be felt)
i wana write more.. but i cant
Monday, October 24, 2005
Wisdom
Simon was visited by his Aunt and Uncle along with his Grandparents evey day since awakening. Mrs. Macvey who was always with him, looked very stressed and Simon had never seen his mother so tired and emotional before. Along with relatives, a constant stream of doctors would visit him at random hours every day. He was gradually filled in on what had happened. About six months ago he passed out in the back of the car, his mom didn't notice untill they stopped at the hospital for his check-up. Simon winced when he heard this part, imagining his mom crying and thinking he was dead while the paramedics arrived. The whole ting sickened him. Emergency surgery was performed as quickly as possibly but the doctors didnt know if he could make it through the night. As he lay there in the PICU his pulse dropped dangerously low, and for a couple minutes the machines record show no pulse at all, and if that wasn't strange enough (this was where the doctors explaining this to him began to get confused and mumble) an unexplained fire broked out right outside his door. The fire damaged the life support machines and yet no one could explain how he was still living.
A couple of days later, he was visited by the hospital Psychologist. The doctor asked him a few questions on how he was doing, Simon explained that he was glad he was alive and was very confused. The short answer seemed to satisfy the psychologist, who seemed in a hurry, and so he hurridly told Simon that,
"If he ever wanted to talk, me or any other pyschologist are ready to listen."
Simon thanked him and he left.
That night he dreamed a peculiar dream. He was standing across from a person who had a mask of a fox on their head. The person evidently was a girl as she was also wearing a long red skirt. She drew close to him, took his hand and then turned to walk up a hill. He followed, mysteriously drawn to the girl. When they reached the top, the girl spread her hands to show him a valley. He looked and there was hundreds of silver and white figures fighting. When he looked closer, he noticed that the silver beings seemed to shine inheritly while the white ones were only white. He noticed that the war was being fought with medieval weapons, he could not see the faces of the silvers because of the brightness. As for the whites, they wore faces that seemed nice to look upon, for a second, and then it sent a chill down your spine and fear would strike. Simon turned towards the girl, searching a meaning only to find the mask not on her face. She had a straight brown hair and a young pretty face with freckles on her nose. Her eyes were the color of old green and brown, like wise seaweed. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear:
"Job once said 'The price of wisdom is above rubies'."
Then she kissed him on the cheek and he awoke in his hospital bed. More confused and at peace then he ever had been in his entire life.
A couple of days later, he was visited by the hospital Psychologist. The doctor asked him a few questions on how he was doing, Simon explained that he was glad he was alive and was very confused. The short answer seemed to satisfy the psychologist, who seemed in a hurry, and so he hurridly told Simon that,
"If he ever wanted to talk, me or any other pyschologist are ready to listen."
Simon thanked him and he left.
That night he dreamed a peculiar dream. He was standing across from a person who had a mask of a fox on their head. The person evidently was a girl as she was also wearing a long red skirt. She drew close to him, took his hand and then turned to walk up a hill. He followed, mysteriously drawn to the girl. When they reached the top, the girl spread her hands to show him a valley. He looked and there was hundreds of silver and white figures fighting. When he looked closer, he noticed that the silver beings seemed to shine inheritly while the white ones were only white. He noticed that the war was being fought with medieval weapons, he could not see the faces of the silvers because of the brightness. As for the whites, they wore faces that seemed nice to look upon, for a second, and then it sent a chill down your spine and fear would strike. Simon turned towards the girl, searching a meaning only to find the mask not on her face. She had a straight brown hair and a young pretty face with freckles on her nose. Her eyes were the color of old green and brown, like wise seaweed. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear:
"Job once said 'The price of wisdom is above rubies'."
Then she kissed him on the cheek and he awoke in his hospital bed. More confused and at peace then he ever had been in his entire life.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Friday, September 30, 2005
stupid land?
your majestiy, i plead my case before you, the court of the heavens. i plead my case for the hundreth time.
what good are lungs if one cannot breath? what good are eyes if one cannot see? what good is life if it cannot be lived? unless this is a temporary punch in the stomach that will return to normal after a couple of deep breaths.. but would any normal person try to breath if they were not promised relief? im lost, utterly lost. i do not believe you could inflict such plague just for some lesson...some plan.. what kind of plan is this that one is tormented? that would make you a greek god, a roman god... a god who toys with his minnions for fun and amusement.. you are not that God. if you are there....which i know you are, please make it evident with some divine intervention.. some divine healing of my soul.. im like a near-dead tree found in the middle of a ghetto.. with string and plastic strewn around its branches which are cut and broken.
you promise flight with the eagles ..i feel like ive been bitterly betrayed, no help in sight..every hope of some recovery has been thrown to the ground and set fire too.. my troubles are too many to count, i try to cover my eyes and repeat to myself your promises.. but the hands that were covering now ache with no strenth left in them..why do you insist on me living in misery. indeed i am not even the worst, and i know it..there are no 'buts' or 'ifs'. my spirit will not admit defeat, i ask you. since you are with me, please show me whether if have been defeated, for then i will wait upon your swiftness.. if i have not been defeated.. then please save me. dear lord save me, because i cannot bare more.. you might think i can.. but anymore and my Will, will wane,,
im tired of pleading..when you will show me your pleasure?
mishalora bloakar piahglor miasom/mei?
what good are lungs if one cannot breath? what good are eyes if one cannot see? what good is life if it cannot be lived? unless this is a temporary punch in the stomach that will return to normal after a couple of deep breaths.. but would any normal person try to breath if they were not promised relief? im lost, utterly lost. i do not believe you could inflict such plague just for some lesson...some plan.. what kind of plan is this that one is tormented? that would make you a greek god, a roman god... a god who toys with his minnions for fun and amusement.. you are not that God. if you are there....which i know you are, please make it evident with some divine intervention.. some divine healing of my soul.. im like a near-dead tree found in the middle of a ghetto.. with string and plastic strewn around its branches which are cut and broken.
you promise flight with the eagles ..i feel like ive been bitterly betrayed, no help in sight..every hope of some recovery has been thrown to the ground and set fire too.. my troubles are too many to count, i try to cover my eyes and repeat to myself your promises.. but the hands that were covering now ache with no strenth left in them..why do you insist on me living in misery. indeed i am not even the worst, and i know it..there are no 'buts' or 'ifs'. my spirit will not admit defeat, i ask you. since you are with me, please show me whether if have been defeated, for then i will wait upon your swiftness.. if i have not been defeated.. then please save me. dear lord save me, because i cannot bare more.. you might think i can.. but anymore and my Will, will wane,,
im tired of pleading..when you will show me your pleasure?
mishalora bloakar piahglor miasom/mei?
Sunday, September 04, 2005
infinnity, uncertainty
the night before last I startled myself with a conclusion I dont think I'll share, and I dont know how to explain, anyways.. really. It actually makes what I know more beautiful, seemingly. :)
i sincerely hope that all i hold inside will be put too good use, made into song- or into story.. its all begining to be so old, im sad, im lonely..
waiting for that star dust person who wont care about things ive naught- who'll love me and help guide me, write stories- hold hands and listen to music.
or maybe im a monk whos destined to serve my Lord, bummer He cant hold my hand or whisper "everythings alright"
i sincerely hope that all i hold inside will be put too good use, made into song- or into story.. its all begining to be so old, im sad, im lonely..
waiting for that star dust person who wont care about things ive naught- who'll love me and help guide me, write stories- hold hands and listen to music.
or maybe im a monk whos destined to serve my Lord, bummer He cant hold my hand or whisper "everythings alright"
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