I know I'm trying to post more work up on this blog but I'm going to take a brief break from that and put down some more thoughts.

There's something about thinking like a writer that makes me feel as though I'm trying to think like God. I'm not claiming to be God, but making a statement about how I try to figure God out. See writing requires a lot of observing, and reading, and interesting, every-day education (basically, learning odd little things by living amongst people), and every once in a while some withdrawal to let everything really sink in. I'm no Sherlock Holmes but I like to try and figure things out about people through little details, and from those details make small judgments on folks I barely know. Then begins the weaving.
After making some observations about an individual, I, for whatever reason, try to figure out what sort of story they're life is framing (because everyone has a story, haven't they?) and what sort of observations they make from their perspective. What I know they know (whether about me or about something) I make into a lens for myself to see through: the world is a different color through someone else' eyes. I also like to think I can make out peoples' personalities pretty well too and that affects the depth or the distance of the lens. Now I'm comparing figuring people out to trying on different kinds of glasses, but there is a problem. Though I might know when things are looking distorted or blurred when I try on another person's lenses, I do not have perfect vision myself. (Continuing the analogy) when I take off my own -3.5 prescription glasses everything gets fuzzy. My own natural insights and views of life are, at best, unfocused and blurry. Just as no human being has eyesight like a peregrine falcon does, no man, woman or child has the world just right. We all have an idea of what it should be like (with color, maybe general size, and texture) but none of us has it pinned.
That's where God comes in.
He's the ultimate mastermind of significance and purpose. If writers like Stephen King, Jane Austen or C.S Lewis are considered brilliant and genius, and they are working with fictional characters on paper then it follows that the Creator of all things, working with living beings, is also creating a gorgeous, rich story with dimensions and twists that not even the most experienced of literary artists could foresee. What's more, we already know that the story does not end in disappointment; and even though we know the way things "end", the business of seeing it all unfold is the great privilege and delight that human beings have.

There were a lot of thoughts that were thrown up in my mind and I thought this post would be a lot longer. Oh well, keep it simple.

This is a more recent one that I wrote. It's been a few weeks since I wrote it. Sadly, I seem to only write poetry when I'm taking creative writing classes. Hopefully that'll change. Anyway, this is a prose poem. It's basically written out like normal writing, but it has a sort of rhythm and play on word sounds that kind of distinguish it from really just being purely prose. If you don't have the rhythm, that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the word play and that the poem inspires some sort of feeling or thought.

Mad Happy

If, for every word that I spoke I stole a tear from you, I wonder: would I really stop speaking? Once I
might have said what the hell are you asking that for? I might have said such and such to tear you down
for the pleasure not unlike being on the giving side of a trigger.

The ticking sound of the clock’s second hand, impatient and keeping time; I heard on the news the other
day about a U.S. soldier firing on his own men; 13 dead, 40 wounded. Everyone wonders and regrets as
one might regret ignoring a burning cigarette, left to its own devices on the dry, wooden bookshelf.

A crazy man, they say. Unconfirmed reports. I look up at my dad eating his red soup, and wonder sadly
to my new self, ‘Ah, the insane pleasure of being on the giving side.’

Okay so I wrote this poem last year in a creative writing class. It's a pantoum, you can google that if you're really interested in what type of poetry form that is. I think it's kind of a quirky poem, I hope ya'll like it.

What Am I?

Oh my God! Is it a matter of preference?
I don’t know what a woman is,
When I was young I thought it was all about parts,
But now those are fudged with reassignment surgeries.

I don’t know what a woman is!
Where’s the line anymore? The standard?
But now those are fudged with reassignment surgeries and—
It sucks to grow up in this age.

Where’s the line anymore? The standard?
Be all that you can be; “I yam what I yam and tha’s all I yam!”
(It sucks to grow old in this age)
A man cries, “I Am The Walrus!”

Be all that you can be; “I yam what I yam and tha’s all I yam!”
When I was young I thought it was all about parts,
A man cries, “I Am The Walrus!”
Oh my God, is it only a matter of preference?

I wish life was a lot more like baking gingerbread cookies with friends.

Tonight was a very good night :]

Sometimes I feel like a kid. And not in the nice way.

More in the sense of not having the next few crucial years of my life figured out. I'm a senior in college now, and it feels like life is putting on an extra burst of speed these days. I realize that I'm not just trying to figure out what I'm going to do for my own benefit, but even for the benefit of the people in my life.

There are a lot of times where I realize that I'm being completely narcissistic. I pity myself because I think to myself, "The world has something against you. Why do people not want to have deep relationships with you? Why aren't teachers teaching things that are more relevant to you? If they did then you'd probably do a lot better. Why do your parents always misunderstand you? Why is it so hard for you to relate to other people sometimes?" Always, always, again and again I victimize myself. (I know these are really ugly thoughts, but I do have them. I'm sure we all do. I just admit to having them because I can't think of a very good reason not to.) But then, after the billionth or so time that I start to get sick of myself and my self-centered way of thinking, I'm finally out of strength and unable to try and justify my ways anymore. All I can do then is to confess that it was no one else's fault that I didn't pursue to deepen my friendships, or discipline myself to make the grades I wanted to, and it was certainly no other person's fault that I shut myself away and sought to spite the world by my deviance.
Up until this time, I've faced those pitiful, repulsive, disgustingly self-involved natures that I have within me, sighed a little and then tried to distance myself from those parts of me for as much and as long as possible. It doesn't work; or it does for a while, and then like a brand new rubber band, I snap back and start feeling sorry for myself again.

I want this way of thinking to stop, I want to kill it in a sense. I just want to move on. This childish side of me that fears facing up to responsibilities has been a part of me my whole life and I find that as each year passes, I have less and less room for it. I don't need to move it to the side or put it behind something, I need to throw it out like the trash I took out today. I've outgrown it; when I feel my childish side on the rise it almost feels like I'm trying to put on a shirt that I can't fit into anymore. It feels unnatural to have to depend on my parents the way that I do still. It feels strange to hear my friends talk about what they're going to do in a step-by-step process after they get out of college, and I shift uncomfortably because I haven't given it much thought.

It's time to grow up, and I want to. So much. But it's as out of reach and annoying as that one spot on your back that itches but you can't quite reach it, and always end up scratching around it. I'm not even sure I'm close!

I'm just frustrated right now. I want to work, but I'm worried. Can I do anything for myself?
Being taken care of for the rest of my life and being dependent on another person for my basic needs is actually something I fear. I do not want to live my life without having faced and conquered some hardships, to test the limits of my abilities. I absolutely cannot see myself lounging by a pool and having a pina colada brought to me by some manservant, I can't!
I need to know that I'm not a sponge existence. I need to live and learn.

I need to figure out my life!!