"You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say 'Wow, isn't he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?' You think I'll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I'll swallow you whole."
- Warsan Shire
Christ vs. Christians
Gandhi said, "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."
This, in essence, summarizes the issues that I have with Christians and the Church. They impose their doctrines and dogmas and move away from, and lose sight of, the heart of the matter. Their very name is taken from 'Christ' and yet they are nothing like him. They choose greed over charity, indifference over compassion, judgment over acceptance, and condemnation over forgiveness. Doesn't seem very Christ-like to me.
You see, Christ said, "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Mark 12:31). There was no asterisk attached to that comment, there were no "ifs" or "buts," either. And yet, so many Christians nowadays would rather accept it as "Love your neighbor as yourself if they think the same as you, look the same as you, believe the same things as you, etc." Which really confuses me, because I don't know how that commandment could have been any clearer. Love your neighbor as yourself. Period.
Christ also said to give food to the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, take in the stranger, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and in prison, for "whatever you [do] for the least of these, you [do] for [him]" (Matthew 25:40). In summary: be generous; be compassionate; be sympathetic. He also said to be merciful, to not judge, to keep prayers private, and to do good deeds out of earnest desire to do them - not to be seen and praised by others. And yet.
And yet so many Christians I know are simultaneously the biggest assholes I know. They're the worst because they parade their faith as a spectacle and hide behind it as an excuse for their actions. They seem to forget that Christ spent the majority of his time amongst the lowest of society, loving them, while rebuking the 'saints' of the day.
I have no issue with Christ. I have an issue with so many of his Christians.
This, in essence, summarizes the issues that I have with Christians and the Church. They impose their doctrines and dogmas and move away from, and lose sight of, the heart of the matter. Their very name is taken from 'Christ' and yet they are nothing like him. They choose greed over charity, indifference over compassion, judgment over acceptance, and condemnation over forgiveness. Doesn't seem very Christ-like to me.
You see, Christ said, "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Mark 12:31). There was no asterisk attached to that comment, there were no "ifs" or "buts," either. And yet, so many Christians nowadays would rather accept it as "Love your neighbor as yourself if they think the same as you, look the same as you, believe the same things as you, etc." Which really confuses me, because I don't know how that commandment could have been any clearer. Love your neighbor as yourself. Period.
Christ also said to give food to the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, take in the stranger, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and in prison, for "whatever you [do] for the least of these, you [do] for [him]" (Matthew 25:40). In summary: be generous; be compassionate; be sympathetic. He also said to be merciful, to not judge, to keep prayers private, and to do good deeds out of earnest desire to do them - not to be seen and praised by others. And yet.
And yet so many Christians I know are simultaneously the biggest assholes I know. They're the worst because they parade their faith as a spectacle and hide behind it as an excuse for their actions. They seem to forget that Christ spent the majority of his time amongst the lowest of society, loving them, while rebuking the 'saints' of the day.
I have no issue with Christ. I have an issue with so many of his Christians.
Realizations
I would feel your eyes on me, during a movie or a drive or some other menial thing, and I would jokingly say, "Don't be a creep, stop staring." I guess I was just scared that if you looked for too long, you would realize you didn't like what you were seeing.
Kisses to the Wind
Standing, with the cool night air
all around,
I'll look at the street
the trees
the stars and
you will pass my mind.
And I'll blow kisses to the wind
send them sailing with the breeze
with some strange hope of reaching
you.
all around,
I'll look at the street
the trees
the stars and
you will pass my mind.
And I'll blow kisses to the wind
send them sailing with the breeze
with some strange hope of reaching
you.
A Late Walk
"When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.
And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words.
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.
I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you."
- Robert Frost, "A Late Walk"
That last stanza -- beautiful. It makes me sad, in a melancholic way.
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.
And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words.
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.
I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you."
- Robert Frost, "A Late Walk"
That last stanza -- beautiful. It makes me sad, in a melancholic way.
Summer of Introspection
It seems that the general theme of this generation is feeling lost. Nobody knows what they are doing, or where they are going, or who they are. And there is nothing wrong with that. We're in our 20s and life just isn't as much of a straight shot as it was for our parents and we have endless possibilities, so many paths at our feet, but I guess this is where it becomes difficult. It's such a blessing, to have so many options, but it easily becomes a rut that we fall in to.We don't know what to choose or what to do so we do nothing and just go about our daily lives. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. But personally, I'm getting sick of this rut.
I'm getting tired and fed up with myself for being at a standstill and not moving forward. I don't mean this in a sense that I should be more out in the world and doing some spectacular things, as I'm not even done with school yet, but that doesn't mean that I can't be making progress in other aspects of my life. I have been going through the motions for so long that I'm not quite sure what more there is to me.
My goal this summer is to spend intentional time looking into my mind and seeing what I find. I want to reassess my values, goals, and beliefs. It's been quite some time since I've thought about any of those things and I think it's time to start molding myself. I'm not expecting any tremendous epiphanies, I just hope I can catch a glimpse of who I am and I what I hope for out of life.
And I know that I just always need to remind myself that feeling lost does not necessarily mean being lost.
I'm getting tired and fed up with myself for being at a standstill and not moving forward. I don't mean this in a sense that I should be more out in the world and doing some spectacular things, as I'm not even done with school yet, but that doesn't mean that I can't be making progress in other aspects of my life. I have been going through the motions for so long that I'm not quite sure what more there is to me.
My goal this summer is to spend intentional time looking into my mind and seeing what I find. I want to reassess my values, goals, and beliefs. It's been quite some time since I've thought about any of those things and I think it's time to start molding myself. I'm not expecting any tremendous epiphanies, I just hope I can catch a glimpse of who I am and I what I hope for out of life.
And I know that I just always need to remind myself that feeling lost does not necessarily mean being lost.
Forgetting & Loving
Forget the ones that forgot you but never forget the love that you're capable of.
Andrew
I saw a stray photo of my little Andrew a few days ago and, well, he's not so little anymore. I was dumbfounded. Lexi was the one who posted it and although she's growing fast, it's just normal, and then especially Natalya, she's always been practically grown, but Andrew, my Andrew - I just, I'm at a loss for words. I don't know when this happened. I don't know how it came to being practically a year since I've seen him. I don't know how I could let my bitterness toward the community make me desert them, of all people. I don't know how I can bear him growing up without me.
A Midnight Conversation
"Do you ever think about just moving, getting away from that tied down feeling?"
"Yeah, that's actually something that has been on my mind for years, and is always crouching in the corners. Just leaving, starting somewhere new. It's very enticing."
(Jokingly) "We should move away together."
"No, you don't understand. For me, leaving means leaving everything -- and everyone. And just being alone."
There's a pause.
"Sounds lonely."
"Sounds free."
"Yeah, that's actually something that has been on my mind for years, and is always crouching in the corners. Just leaving, starting somewhere new. It's very enticing."
(Jokingly) "We should move away together."
"No, you don't understand. For me, leaving means leaving everything -- and everyone. And just being alone."
There's a pause.
"Sounds lonely."
"Sounds free."
22 February - Blurbs
I don't know where I am.
I'm taking risks, saying things I'd never say with a sober mind.
I haven't spoken to you in weeks, but know that I love you -- always.
I equally want you to remember me as much as I want you to forget me, as much as I want to forget and to remember you.
I don't know where I am. I don't know who I am.
Find me. Forget me. Lose me.
I'm taking risks, saying things I'd never say with a sober mind.
I haven't spoken to you in weeks, but know that I love you -- always.
I equally want you to remember me as much as I want you to forget me, as much as I want to forget and to remember you.
I don't know where I am. I don't know who I am.
Find me. Forget me. Lose me.
Will You Still Love Me On Sunday?
It’s so easy to be head-over-heels under the loud music and the overfull glasses of Saturday night. Everyone loves each other, everyone wants to be best friends. Everyone sees only the best in everyone else. And there is a certain magic in Saturday night, as though you’re so far inside the weekend — so buffered on each side from the unforgiving reality of the weekdays — that everything is possible and real if you want it to be. You say things you might not mean on Monday morning, because for the moment in between the sixth and seventh drink on Saturday, it’s all you can think about.
Will You Still Love Me On Sunday? | Thought Catalog
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But when you wake up on Sunday morning, when your head hurts so badly you feel as though it will never return to normal, when everything that was beautiful and mysterious the night before has been rendered harsh and unflattering in the relentless daylight — will you still want to turn over to me? Will you still be interested in all of the things I have to say, all of the coincidences we took as divine intervention last night when we were only so happy to tell each other how we feel? If the facilitators of alcohol and dim lights and a group of laughing around us are no longer part of the equation, do you still want to hold my hand?
------
I will love you on Sunday. If I told you all of these beautiful things when we were standing under the red light of the bar, peeling the label off a beer bottle, it’s because I want you to remember them the next day. I want to pounce on my momentary lack of inhibitions to say all of the things I’ll later want to sweep under the rug, but which I truly mean. I am telling you these things on Saturday because I won’t be able to on Sunday, but I’ll want you to know that I mean them. And I hope you know me well enough to know that I never say anything I don’t mean — even if they’re a bit embarrassing to remember in the morning.
Will You Still Love Me On Sunday? | Thought Catalog
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