Diary Post 1

8:20pm
We’ve finished dinner.
The dishes are done, and my grandmother has been put to bed.

Today I heard my Grandfather laugh unbidden.
What I mean is that he was so surprised that he laughed.
It was a giggle.

We were all talking about the game between germany and brazil.
Not because we’d seen or read about it. Rather a neighbor mentioned that germany had won.
My grandfather didn’t know what the world cup was (I didn’t either – but the mention of brazil had clued me in) and my grandmother mentioned that some country had been in tears over a prior loss.
That had been america vs. brazil. I knew because of all the facebook posts.
I mentioned this.
Then I mentioned about brazil being brilliant at soccer.
Like #1s.
And that germany must be going crazy over the win.
“Winning what?,” my grandmother said.
My grandfather giggled. Laughed with unbelief and surprise and humor.
Yes. In the space of 3 minutes my grandmother had forgotten that germany had won brazil at soccer.
Im glad to see that memory loss can induce humor.
This whole aging thing does have moments of surprising funniness.

And on the other side I loath my own future.
……………….

I want to write about something deep and amazing.
But what do I have?

I am still not awake here.
I feel like I am in a dream.

Parts of me are not able to sense something.
I feel … dead?
I don’t feel alive.

I cannot relax or rest – I feel suspended….always suspended and now I feel like I dont belong anywhere. I have left my home and I am homesick – sickness all over.
Especially in my mind.

Im hungering for Ruben.

Do you know ruben?
I am narcissistic for his company – for his tears – for his agonies and his begging and his pain.
I thrive on it.

I want to be a writer like all those authors that have written something so deep and true and beloved –
I want to be a writer like that.
But I feel paltry and wasted – like watery soup, flavorless jello. Music that has no meaning and no dance within your hips when you hear it.
I want you to want to shake your shoulders so that your boobs swing wildly – and you want to clutch your chest but you can’t because you want to dance harder than your self-consciously-shame-stained-cheeks.

I want to stand at the window while you read my book –
like a peeping tom. Standing against the glass – my breath slowly fogging up the scene of your lovemaking with your lover….
I want to be there. To see the way your neck pulses; slowing and speeding at the touch of my words in your mind.

I want to make love to your senses.
But I’m afraid that I am a clumsy lover. My words like untrained movements – an unskilled player attempting Bach for the first show – but only maryhadalittlelamb comes out. Even then there is skipped and misplaced notes.

It is the story of my life.
I am the lover god doesn’t wish to bed.
Already he’s seen my futile attempts in the dark.
Can you pursue me?
The greatest lover?
The one who can speak orgasms into physical form?

Who am I to allow you to settle for me?
I who am like the parts you cut off the pie crust….

do I define myself below my ability?
Will you turn me into a narcissistic version of ….Eve.
The perfect first female – blinking into the dappled light.
Gazing at the first erection from below her eyelashes – flirting with the only human in existence.
There was no other options.
It was him; or be a virgin forever?

Don’t kid yourself.
Ellen.
Don’t try to overthink things.

Here is your best writing.
It is a man dying –
it is pain and tears and agonies.
It is everything that makes you come alive.
And everything that keeps everything else dead around you.

What is new or wonderful that you can say that has not already been said?
He could.
He could give me the words.
If He did –
then there would be something worth reading.
Something that would turn people on like crazy.

Something that would stir untouched things …
make people feel like a basement found
an attic explored.

Maybe they would walk into a land they’d never imagined existed.

So will You?
will You give me the words?
………

I await the words.

……………………………………………………………..

7/24/14

“You’re gonna be the princess of the theoretical kingdom.”

“Of what?”

“Frustration.”

My Grandads take on me always dying my hair
……………………………………………….

08/05/14

To hear me through the silence
you reach a part of me
that no one else can see
for every time there’s only me
and only you
…………………………………….

10/7/2014

I don’t know where I went wrong.
But I did.
Somewhere I went wrong
and I ended up the tormentor.

……………………………………..
11/2/14

“Somewhere in here I’m coaxing a little bud to grow.”
Major Sidney Freedman, Mash 4077
……………………………………………………………..

11/14/14

What do you want?

If you’re happy you think you love.

Compulsion.

………………………………………………………….

11/19/2014

running your fingers over the edges of bricks and walls
nervously waiting for something/anything to happen.

…………………………………………………………………..
11/25/14

Sin’s not special.

It’s immediate and tangible and accessible.
It stands at the door and will ravish you at the slightest provocation.
It is a forest fire in a bottle.

Open and drink if you wish death.

……………………………………………
11/29/14

God knows; and that is the only place where we will have peace.

God must have given Joseph comfort and peace in his affliction –
for no man is good enough to be noble through such hardship.

Lord – give me a willing spirit to sustain me as you have for all those who trusted in you.

Give me the attitude and not just the words of faith and trust.

I fling myself upon your kindness.

I know that you alone are faithful and diligent in all you do.

Christ! Complete in me whatever you have started!

Spirit! Be the one to which I can flee for refuge!

I alone am insufficient.

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what am i afraid of?

That’s not an internal question.
It’s a question ending on a high note.
I’m asking you, cause i have no idea.

I want to respond that i’m not afraid. What would i have to be afraid of?
But something inside me is.
Something so deep and buried behind walls of things that are piled and tangled together from every collision of life i’ve ever had that i can’t actually identify what that thing is.

I’ve been asked to consider what that thing is that i fear. But honestly, i don’t want to take the time to consider it. Because that would take silence and meditation into useless paths within me that i know lead only to the bridge of despair.

“We have given noise our consent to fill every moment of life.” – “For a while, hiding in the entertainment clamor allows us to elude our loneliness and insecurities, as it seemingly connects us to everyone else. But this tactic eventually fails, because the answer to our brokenness is not found by avoiding the problem, but pressing into it.” – “Choosing the quiet requires courage. However, if we just numb ourselves with noise, life loses its sanctifying grittiness. Silence revels our formerly muted pains,”

Do you know what i see from there?

i wrote about it once in a college paper and got called into the campus counselors office.

I see trucks speeding under the bridge, and i fantasize how it would feel to jump; the way the metal would slam into my body, the way the bones would snap and the way the road would grind off my flesh as the truck skidded to a swerving slanted halt and the way my eyes would see though my heart had stopped. And i wish, standing on the bridge, that there was no after. That i would disintegrate into dust and that would be it. That i’d just cease to exist.

So. What do i fear?
I fear uncontrollability.
i fear living on.
i fear what i can’t handle.
i fear not seeing what they see…that i have to rely on another?
Do i fear that?

Fear when love has faded to annoyance.
Fear disdain.
Fear the loss of respect?

Or is it that my empathy has made me enter into my Grandmothers terror?

Am i simply experiencing her own fear?
And that’s what’s so painful???

I fear being trapped.
i know i fear being trapped.

As long as i can be the captor and not the captive i can survive.

yes. That is what i fear.
Being bound without escape.

i fear being helplessly held to endure again in my life anothers decisions over me.

i fear being an uncontrollable fool. Disgusting helpless fool creating ones own embarrassment.

I don’t think i fear death. I long for certain death without having to wait for it. My restless desires stifle me.

 

 

 

 

Quotes sourced from: http://www.relevantmagazine.com/life/we-need-more-silence-our-lives

there’s that song…

“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior…”

i read an article (http://www.anniefdowns.com/2014/09/16/stop-singing-oceans/) about this song and it really challenged me about how we sing things we don’t actually mean.

now i’m walking thru things in life that are challenging everything i believe about faith and hope and love.

Is this that place without borders?

If there’s a place where my trust has no borders doesn’t that mean a place where there’s no end to the trials? That i have nothing to gaurantee anything? That i have only trust to go on or be in despair?

Its not so glamorus as the song puts it.
its hard
its painful
its terrible

but isn’t that what we want?
To walk by faith and not by sight?
To come to the place where we know our Saviour’s faithful despite our circumstances?

Isn’t that where we all deeply long to be in our spiritual journey?

The hardest part is the walking to get there. There is no way to trust Him boundlessly without having the oportunity(ies) to do so.

It’s slow and difficult and agonizing, but like a little kid learning to walk i want to get there.

is that why i’m here right now? Doing what i’m doing?

All i want to do is get away.
but what fruit will i bear??
In the end will i be satisfied?
Will God be able to say “well done!”?
There’s more.
more questions that i don’t even know how to frame.

These questions haunt me.
They torture me.
Tormenting, distasteful, throbbing, disagreeable, sharp, grievous questions.

I can taste them on my tongue yet no words form.
Soundless cries from so deep inside there is no tune to match the chords needed.
I feel utterly helpless and in that despair i cast out ribbons of hope to fly above the trenches i have dug from pure desperation.

God, let me be faithful in trusting you.
Overcome my unbelief
– so that one day i can say
“The Spirit’s lead me where my trust is without borders
He’s let me walk upon the waters
so i can go wherever You called me
You’ve taken me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith has been made stronger
In the presence of my Savior…”

…..
My hope:
“We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans too deep for words.”
Romans 8:26…27