: are you listening? :

Friday, May 20, 2005

some days are meant for this

my mind is full of stuff, but when i come to write it all down, it becomes as empty as the text box i'm writing this in. almost like i come to rant, release, put down the weight from my shoulders.. but then i get here and question the importance of writing stuff down. is it so others can read it? do i care if no o­ne reads or responds? is it just an expression of what i'm thinking but not who i am? or is it solely to put things into words for myself so i can understand them better?

shoot. blank again. lol


maybe ill come back later and add something when i remember, cause atleast i know the text box won't start out empty again... hmmm.....


oh im back. after musing through journals i wrote in the past, i've realized i rarely ever journal o­n here when im happy or just having a good day. im usually o­nly inspired to write about something im struggling with, or when my days crappy. i think its funny because people who don't know me probably think im like that all the time... yeah i thought about it and i think its funny. thats all for now!


so tomorrow is my first day of in car drivers ed lessons. agh 8 in the morning.. why did i do that??
to be honest im excited to finally drive and have the freedom it brings, but a bit lost o­n the subject at the same time. ive had alot of dreams where im driving a car and suddenly am not able to control it, it will speed up and the brakes will stop working, or ill lose steering control, and usually i end up crashing into something. i know real driving is different, and a car is made to be controlled, but after not having driven at all for the past 2 years, i pray my unusual fear won't get the better of me. im usually not this paranoid... and im sure ill do fine... i just hate dreaming stuff like that.

maybe im really a control freak and the dreams have nothing to do with driving a car? i dont think so... hmmm.. this is fun. i like coming back to the same journal o­n completely different topics.


did you know: its impossible to be best friends with a guy forever unless you marry him.


my favourite smell in the summer?
mayday trees.
i thought they were lilacs but was corrected by my mother who said lilacs o­nly grow o­n bushes.
i really have yet to prove her wrong o­n so so many things..


So we're still in search of a fourth roommate. we start paying rent in our new duplex in june, and it's cool cause i am not worried about it at all because i know God will provide. He always does :) oh speaking of which i'm just coming out of a valley that i was in for a very long time spiritually. o­n my way out, God's been teaching me tons about having faith even when we don't see or feel Him. But at the same time as being lifted up in my relationship with God, i've dug myself into a hole financially -- nothing permanent, and nothing a few weeks paycheck won't fix. enter grace. a friend of mine just recently paid off half of o­ne debt i owed because God told him to... i don't deserve it in any way; i deserve to pay it off myself and learn from my mistakes of spending good money in dumb places at the wrong time. leaves me feeling very humbled and also realizing God's hand in everything good... i was missing it for a while and i'm glad i've come back.

Monday, May 2, 2005

ive had enough

my vision
shattered
like broken glass
marred, chaffed, lost
like dreams of consistency in a sea of the past
unquenched
quench this dry land
before it rots
rots
rots
and spits you back out
like tears from this well
fallen like dried flies o­n a well spun web
caught between going and staying
loving and hating
apathy and caring
you and...



ENOUGH!

scarred yet again, perhaps for the last time
my faith took me this far
the dirt still tastes the same
how long till you lift me?
like a father should
like my father would
like you could have but didn't

this waiting game
grows thick
and im sick of not knowing
not hearing
not feeling
not caring
CARE FOR ME!!!!!
or do you care for me??

words
meaningless words, all driven mad like the woman who loves becoming like me
is this more than a tired morning?
or a mourning of a tired soul?

knotted to the ground
while momentum for potential surges through and through
unclenching fists grasping for something
something
something
until knees hit the mud
over
over
over
still expect to find something there
but help does not reach for me

surges come
i want to go
i want to love
i want to care
i want you

lift me lift me lift me
or will you let me stumble again for your glory?