Good Guys, Bad Guys

"I seen bad men do good things and I've seen good men do bad things."

Sometimes, the good guys do really bad things. For some reason, they're still good though. I don't know why that is. A bad guy can do as many good things as he wants- had can do good things all day long!- but he will still be a bad guy.

This kind of surfaced this week while I was with my friends. Some of my friends are good kids and some of them are really bad. That's always the way it is. In every group there are "good kids" and "bad kids." It's not like the bad kids are going to bomb my school tomorrow or anything. I'm talking social preditors. I'm talking kids who are really messed up inside.

The hole not made for me.

My world is closing in on me
I'm crushed beneath its weight
I'm stuck
It's over
I can't escape
These walls which box me in
And pinch
And squeeze
Are forcing me
Already oddly shaped
Into a hole which will not fit
A hole not made for me.

The Ashes of my Ex-Life.

I was digging through some old posts and I found this one that never got posted for some reason: 

I'm an obsessive journalist. I write down e v e r y t h i n g that happens to me- as it happens. You can find almost all my important thoughts stuffed into binders and boxes in my room. It's really important for me to build life perspective. I do this by writing down what I feel and then digging it back up again six months later and reading about it.

There are parts of my life that aren't important anymore.

Those parts get edited out.

Every life is a story and every story has parts to it- good parts, bad parts, happy parts, sad parts.
Every person has to live through good times and bad times.
Every person has to cry... every person wants something and is brutally crushed in the process...
Everyone faces disappointments. 

Who Outsmarted Who?

Hahahaha! Watching "The Rescuers Down Under" again.... that movie never gets old. Neither does this scene:D 

"My mental facilities are twice what yours are, ya pea brain!"

"I didn't make it all the way through third grade for nothin'!"

Joy to the World

There is always a place for joyful,

if sometimes solemn,

carols for me in this season.

I find myself exhausted from 

Coldplay, Lopez, and Sliversun. 

Carols are rest for me-

 rest from my boombox, rock and roll,

addicted lifestyle;

because, honestly, hip-hop takes

so much emotional energy!

 

I had a dream the other night that I was standing 

in a beautiful avenue between 

a row of buildings late

one night just before Christmas.

Snow was falling deep around me.

The trees along the avenue were decorated

with lights and an unseen choir was

singing this song:

It was so beautiful I wished I would never 

wake up. But, of course, that couldn't

be helped. Long after the beautiful lights and voices

had faded away, I still held onto the feeling

that buried deep in this season 

there is a gift, made especially for me 

before I could walk or talk, before I knew 

my own name, and long before 

I even existed. 

When I sing Christmas Carols I am most

conscious of that gift. They always

have the amazing ability to transport me 

all the way back to my very first Christmases

before I had yet opened that gift

and it lay there, wrapped in festive paper. 

I'm still opening that gift- the gift of a friendship

that will last me this whole life and beyond. 

This is my friendship with Christ Jesus.

The House

She’s old now, her crippled hands

Rest easy in her lap;

Now shut the eyes which twinkled bright

At every merry laugh.

As barren as the dusty walls

As old as chair and crib

The house where she was given birth

The house in which she lives.

The rocking chair she sits in now

Is where she used to nurse.

The tiny crib where she did lay

Her children, she used first.

Luke 2

In the same region there were Shepherds 

out in the field, 

keeping watch over their flock by night.

and an angel of the LORD appeared to them,

and the glory of the Lord shone around them, 

and they were filled with great fear.

And the angel said to them, "Fear not, for behold, 

I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all 

the people.

For unto you is born this day in the City of David 

a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.

And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby

wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger."

And suddenly there was with the Angel a multitude 

of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

"Glory to God in the highest,

and on earth peace among those with whom He is pleased!" -Luke 2:8-14

Merry Christmas

Life is an Equation.

I've had my dreams... my aspirations, my disappointments. I expected so much out of life. The funny thing is that the one thing life turned out to be was the very thing I never expected:

My life is just another boring math problem.

It's a problem I have to get to solve every day. I take all the pieces of this equation, line them up on two sides of an equal sign and try desperately to make them match. I work the problem out, first one side and then the other, until it finally occurs to me that I don't even have all the pieces there to begin with.

So, I go out in life gathering experiences to complete my equation but somehow they never seem to be enough to say all that there is about myself. I know I'm going to sound totally arrogant when I say this, but this equation I'm trying so desperately to solve is ME! Not in a lifetime will I be able to solve this equation totally.

Cutie Patootie

Who am I?

I am the tiniest bomb, ticking 1200 beats 

before dropping the weight of a penny 

on some unsuspecting intruder

to my territory.

If you know the answer already, don't tell! Everyone else... I'm interested to see what you come up with. 

The thing about magic is that it works every time. 

Einstein

"Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius -- and a lot of courage -- to move in the opposite direction." -Albert Einstein

It's Cold Here.

It's cold here:)

The Well Said Blog

This post is, I suppose, kind of embarrassing, but necessary. I have slapped up posts on this site that I regret dreadfully. I wanting nothing more than to rip something down, sometimes, as soon as it goes up. But, for the most part, I haven't. I want to be honest with myself. I would rather go back and critique something than just rip it off. I force myself to read everything I've written many times. I am my own best critic at this moment.

This past week I have been convicted, with respect to my blogging, to rethink my approach and methods to blogging. You see, I have a lot of good things (and bad) to say. I have so much to tell you. But, I can't tell you everything all at once or nothing would make sense. I need to organize my thoughts. I need to say one thing at a time and say it well!

I want this to be a well said blog.

It's not enough to have knowledge or conviction if you can't say it in a way people can understand.

Goodmorning Gorilla

I must have been as hungry as a gorilla this morning. I started cooking and got carried away.

Gorilla Tacos:


Get out the eggs and the fry pan. Turn on the heat and let the pan warm SLOWLY while you whip the eggs and start singing along to to radio. After you scramble the eggs with margarine, dig around in the fridge and find the left over Sunday dinner... pork and 'taters! Yummmmm! 


Skip to the micro and throw in the Tupperware with the pork, taters, and carrots. Warm three minutes. Get the corn tortillas out and arrange six in a shallow bowl. Switch for the Tupperware in the micro. Heat the tortillas for 1 minute. 


Skip back to the stove top and turn off the heat before your eggs burn. Throw the pork, taters, and carrots in the keep warm. Cover with lid. 


Bouncing to the beat of "Let's Get Together" (Parent Trap, 1961) move on back to the microwave for your tortillas. Rearrange them in the shallow bowl, three sets of two in a row so that they will be strong enough to hold your gorilla sized tacos.


Stuff those tacos with eggs, pork, taters, carrots, and drench it in plenty of Red Hot.


Breakfast. 

This. is. home.

A foreigner from warmer lands

Will laugh at us today

While they are huddled warm inside

We run outside to play

Frostbite nips my bright red nose

I snap another one

The frozen lake, the icy park

I call this having fun

I could begrudge the weather here

But I would miss so much

When living life we must enjoy

The cozy AND the harsh

Enjoying every dazzling sight

I’m taking all this in

I don’t care what the weather is

If I call this my home

Finis.

Huzzah! We're finished. Check out the final product on Andrea's Blog. I'm posting is here also, but I apologize profusely for the wacky highlighting. If I don't highlight it grey, for some reason, it wants to have a white highlight.

Sir Glancelot sat at round table with a plethora of admirers, a goblet of wine, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into four triangles. (That's the way that Glancelot liked his sandwiches. He detested having his sandwich cut into squares. His mother had cut them that ways when he was young and he had never forgiven her for it.)

      

     Glancelot had just selected the second triangle from the top (clockwise) and was taking his first, long expected bite when the unthinkable happened. Instead of sinking his glistening pearls into that delectable treat, Glancelot found himself crunching hard bone.

     Glancelot was appalled. "Why," he demanded, "is there a bone in my sandwich?" 

      He didn't expect anyone to reply. People were generally too afraid to talk to him when he was angry. So he was shocked when he heard a gloomy bass voice say, "That would be mine."
 

      More surprising than the voice was the fact that it came from thin air. But no, Glancelot realized when he looked closer, not thin air. It was little more than a slight, gaseous discoloration at first, but the longer he stared at it, the more solid it became. And at last it assumed definite, if rather smoky, form. It was a wraithlike beast. A ghostly dog.