tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35807918424777027622024-02-20T18:03:34.829-08:00miniature missyminiaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-77605682331233639302014-08-14T19:35:00.000-07:002014-08-14T19:35:07.597-07:00Itchy.Today I awakened with an itchy throat. I wanted to reach down and scratch it with my overgrown fingernails. Didn't bode well for the day. "If I lay heeeere, if I just lay here..."<br />
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Last night I downloaded <a href="http://allisonvesterfelt.com/" target="_blank">Allison Vesterfelt's</a> freshly released e-book, <i>Writing To Find Yourself</i>, because of course I need yet another thing to tell me how to do something before I bother trying. Perfectionist. You know this. Anyway, the e-book is an adorable little thing--only one hundred pages. I wanted to read it all in one go, but it was late and I was tired so I stopped on page fifty-five. This is unimportant and I am stalling. It's part of the exercise.<br />
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Anyway, the only thing that made me forget about wanting to remove my throat was my excitement about getting to finish Allison's book. The first half was eerily relevant and encouraging, giving me things to work on instead of providing a security blanket for my excuses and bad habits. I was stoked to finish it thinking, "Holy coconuts, I think I'm going to write something after this!" And then I noticed something, yet another thing to hide behind: <i>after this.</i> As in, after I finish reading about how to do this thing as perfectly as possible even though the entirety of what I've read so far is about NOT striving for perfection and instead allowing room for error/growth/allowing yourself to <i>be </i>where you are in order to discover what needs adjustment. So, instead of finishing the book, I stopped (with brute force) on page eighty and decided to tackle what I found to be the hardest challenge yet addressed: "write now, edit later." UM, WHAT. That is completely foreign language as someone who only ever edits as she goes. I don't even know what a draft is. Actually wait, it's that thing where I spend ten years "waiting" to say stuff and then when it finally comes out it's like the ends of the bread that no one ate that you pull from the back of the fridge half-frozen, blue, and disturbingly fuzzy (if you <i>do</i> eat those, comment below--in their fresh state, obviously), and then no one ever wants to see the insides of that fridge again... But I digress.<br />
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Write now, edit later. I had to sit and <i>make </i>that mean something to me. Even writing this, I've been careful and even cheated and deleted/added a couple of things. Just for that, I, when I've finished this, have to post it as-is. I don't get to edit later because I cheated. Self-inflicted punishment. That line I wanted to add back up at the top in between "...bother trying" and "Perfectionist"? Nope. You'll never know what it was. You may be wondering whether or not I am being serious--I am. It is <i>ri-di-cu-lous </i>that I have to (choose to) treat myself this way. But until I get more comfortable with being uncomfortable, that's how it's going to be. Don't worry, you don't have to understand. Although, something tells me that a lot of you do.<br />
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After I finish Allison's wonderful, Godsend of an e-book, I'm going to tell everyone to download it, and then I'm going to read it again and take notes. What a truly invaluable work that applies to <i>so </i>much more than just writing. Like, I'm considering using the whole of chapter six to patch some cigarette burns in my tapestry, so to speak. There is so much more to say about it--I mean heck, if this mini-book moved me to post on my crusty, dusty, crypt of a "blog," imagine what it'll do for less abnormal people?!<br />
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Well done, Allison. Thank you for turning a day that began with an itchy throat into a day of first steps toward betterment. Maybe it won't be a year before I post here again.<br />
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~mm~miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-13225689095533770012014-01-21T21:49:00.001-08:002014-01-21T21:49:21.130-08:00Note to self.-You cannot heal if you think too highly of yourself.<br />
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-You cannot be of use to others if you think too highly of yourself.<br />
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-You have <i>got </i>to <i>stop drinking coffee </i>when you're <i>already worked up.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
-Stop being a bottle.<br />
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-But strain your contents wisely and in such a way that prevents the opportunity for your own incrimination to be used as a diversion.<br />
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-Slow down.<br />
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-But don't be idle.<br />
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-When you have to pee, <i>pee.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
-Same goes for the other thing.<br />
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-Play/write/study every day. <i>Every. Day. <b><u>DAILY.</u></b></i><br />
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-James 2:14-17<br />
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-Get up with the sun sometimes. Remember Who awakened both of you.<br />
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-Stop getting distracted by petty feces.<br />
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-Don't be ashamed to rest.<br />
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-You don't have to defend your need for rest to anyone.<br />
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-You don't have to defend your path to anyone.<br />
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-Just stop defending yourself. (Wait...)<br />
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-Seek only the Father's approval.<br />
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-No, but seriously.<br />
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-Read more. And more, and more, and more.<br />
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-Keep the scissors away from your danged head.<br />
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-Work on your cotton-picking handwriting. You should be ashamed.<br />
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-Stop being so perfectionistic.<br />
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-<i>But don't use that as an excuse for not doing your best.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
-And, for Pete's sake, go to bed at a reasonable hour.<br />
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<br />miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-71922073717801498242014-01-13T19:10:00.002-08:002014-01-14T14:43:20.742-08:00Salad.Oh, look, it's time for my annual blog post.<br />
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Making an introduction would be both inappropriate and useless, so I'll just leave you feeling as though you picked up a book and opened it right down the middle. After all, the beginning is still there if you care enough to go back and have a look.<br />
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Right now, I'm in the valley. At least I think I am. There's always an inner dialogue in which I question the breadth of my tribulations, wondering whether or not they truly warrant the inner turmoil, feelings of nausea, and constipation (of all sorts). Surely, there must be someone whose valley is darker than mine... I've finally come to the conclusion that this is a no-no way of thinking. Your story is your own, and if this is the darkest your valley has ever been because you spilled your bowl of cereal this morning, then it's the darkest it's ever been. That's not to say that perspective is tossed out of the window... Something worse than spilling cereal will indefinitely occur, and when it does, you'll wish that it would've just been a cereal spill. Realizations of what is truly important may even come from incidents in the lives of others. However, to live in a constant state of thinking which says, "Susy's situation is worse than mine, so my sadness over the cereal is no longer valid," is a never-ending spiral of worthlessness. In so many words, you only know what you know*. It's like thinking NyQuil is the worst thing you will ever put into your mouth until you taste Robitussin. Humans will always, by nature, be infatuated with comparison even when by it they are consumed. To deny yourself agony and pain in the name of "something-much-worse-this-way-comes" may very well be to deny yourself a lesson. You are where you are for a reason, and there is always something to be gained.<br />
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It's a funny thing to be asked how you're doing whilst in the valley. The answer I'd like to give is, "Well, I feel like someone has shat heavily upon my head, but at least it's not diarrhea, eh? Eh?? HA!" Actually, sometimes it <i>is </i>diarrhea. There are days when I scream and cry and try to figure out how many variations of "f*ck" I can come up with in an hour because no one wants to be covered in poo and are you kidding me wah wah stomp feet slam door......but then there are times when I sit still with a Friend, snap on the latex gloves, and see if the defecator perchance swallowed any diamonds. I've found <i>a lot</i> of diamonds. And when I'm tired of looking, my Friend finds more. Sure, they need to be sterilized and polished, and rarely is that process a fun one, but the result is always worth it. A ring turns into a bracelet turns into a necklace turns into a crown. *insert something relating to the solid Rock on which I stand ha ha ha, punny*<br />
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I was making a salad for breakfast (because when you wake up at 11:30am, you eat spinach and call it breakfast as punishment) and when I went to grab dried cranberries, they were nearly gone. How in the... What the... No one in this house even likes cranberries as much as I do and the bag was full not three days ago and did someone spill them and <i>shucking fit. </i>After I calmed down, which took longer than I'll admit, I thanked the Lord for the few dried cranberries that He made sure were left in the bag. Yeah, I only had, like, six of 'em. But six were better than none because what would've combated the pungency of the goat cheese?! (Has anyone else noticed that after you put goat cheese in your mouth, but before you chew it, it tastes as though you've just walked into a high school basketball game and accidentally inhaled through your mouth right when there was a rebound? No? Okay.)<br />
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Alls I'm sayin' is, look for the diamonds in the rough. You won't be able to do it alone, so find the One most qualified to assist you before you drown in a heap of <strike>shite</strike> excrement.<br />
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Peace, love, and goat cheese, playuhzzz.<br />
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-mm-<br />
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P.S. There were more than six cranberries. There were, like, eleven. But still.<br />
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(*To be clear, I do not at all mean this in an ignorance-is-bliss sort of way, or that one should put a cap on their "knowledge.")miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-88060909852348736042013-03-08T21:06:00.000-08:002013-03-08T21:09:39.109-08:00(when religion hurts more than it heals)Now that school has begun again, the wells of writing have run dry. Granted, there are more things happening that spark various thoughts which could easily be expounded upon, it's just that my mind is lazy. <i>I'm</i> lazy.<br />
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I saw something this evening, though, that stabbed me in the heart a little bit. So, here we go... (You should sit down. Or pee now rather than later.)<br />
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A friend of mine (who may or may not see this! *nervous*) posted a quote from Bill Maher (it wasn't cited and I'm too <i>lazy </i>to look it up) in which he essentially states that the inner peace found by associating with a given religion comes at a big price if that religion has been known to cause a lot of pain and suffering for a large number of people. He says that to be a part of any religion that engages in harmful activity is to say that you're okay with those behaviors, and that you are in fact an enabler of them. My friend followed this quote with their own thoughts on the matter saying that since moving to southern California, they have been irked by the number of people who adhere to religions that have blatantly been "oppressive, violent, and bigoted" in the past, while being seemingly indifferent about the damage, and that more violence has come of religion than peace.<br />
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This, of course, is not the first time I've seen feelings such as these expressed. However, every time I see them, it makes me angry, and I always tend to brush the whole thing under the rug in an act of avoidance behavior...until now. This time, I started thinking about <i>why </i>I get so angry and defensive. I'm not angry with the people who express these observations. I'm not defensive because I want them to know that <i>I </i>am different. I get angry because I really want them to know <i>Jesus.</i> I want them to know that He knows about the pain and suffering that human beings have undergone in the name of faith. I want them to know deeply how much He cares and longs to wrap His arms around them and <i>show </i>them that those things aren't what He's about. <i>I want them to know that He is nothing like the dreadful things that have been done in His name.</i><br />
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But here's where I get really uncomfortable. Sometimes the urge to communicate Jesus and who He is gets tangled with the human urge to be correct. You wrack your brain for all the <i>right </i>verses to post in obnoxious succession on this person's status, inundating them with the very thing that makes them angry (not to say that one should withhold the gospel to keep people "happy," but there are as many ways to share it as there are souls on this earth). The counter reaction to this, however, can be the blurting out of "Jesus is nothing like His followers, I promise!" or to say nothing at all. While I strongly believe that we should <i>absolutely </i>point people to Jesus, the bigotry and oppression that happens in His name isn't going to magically become invisible and I reckon people will wonder why the actions of "Christ's people" don't often seem to line up with Him or His teachings. Wouldn't you?<br />
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I'm sure part of this problem comes from misrepresentation. We will always hear about the groups of "Christians" who congregate near places that are frequented by specific groups of people, holding ironically blasphemous signs and not showing the least bit of care for fellow human beings. We will always hear about the pastor who repeatedly abused children or one who was involved in a lengthy affair, all while still being "active in the ministry." Whenever these stories come out, we are very quick to either ignore it ("Yeah, you know the devil's at work...") or to flail about saying "the rest of us aren't like that!" when I think we may need to spend more time <i>proving </i>it. I think we often gravely underestimate the power of <i>living </i>Jesus, instead hoping that our Bible-mouths will do the trick all on their own.<br />
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I didn't set out with a real goal here (and there is MUCH more that could be said), but the conclusion I've come to at this moment is this: <i>religion</i> can and will cause pain, but Christ isn't the <i>source</i> of that pain, and He can also heal it if you let Him.<br />
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Just a (long) thought. Please share yours. <3<br />
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<br />
-mm-<br />
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P.S. I will try not to always be so dismal. Perhaps next time I'll write about how disgusting the bathrooms are in the music building...miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-71294836657299342262013-01-29T01:30:00.000-08:002013-01-29T01:30:07.326-08:00Pessimistimo.I'm a reasonably positive person. Or, I used to be. Not quite sure anymore. I mean, happiness isn't really a staple item in my emotional inventory. But the other day I had a thought...<br />
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I don't remember what I was doing, or thinking for that matter, but whatever it was sparked a devastating realization: I think I'm a pessimist.<br />
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I've come to a point where even if good things are happening, I don't believe they'll last for long. I am constantly, actively, waiting for the next heavy blow. It's as if I've come to a point where I won't even <i>allow</i> myself to become happy for fear of something dreadful coming right behind it and causing my world to come tumbling down all over again. I began to think about whether or not this has always been the underlying case and, if it hasn't been, why it is now.<br />
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The conclusion to which I came can best be described as the feeling you get when you wash NyQuil down with potent coffee. (Long story. Just don't ever do it.) The juxtaposition felt within your gut is nauseating. So keep that in mind when I say that in some ways my hope has diminished greatly, and in other ways it hasn't. This comes mainly from the fact that I'm speaking of two different types of hope.<br />
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I've stopped believing that good things are going to happen in the near future because 1) they've been bad for so long, and 2) why believe that when I don't know it to be true anyway? But then I notice the words "good" and "bad." What I see as being good currently may not be in the big picture, and what I see as being bad could be good in the big picture. It is for this reason that my constant Hope remains. I have hope in the fact that Christ loves me to the nth degree, doesn't enjoy my pain, wants and <i>knows </i>what is best for me, and will lovingly carry me through whatever comes between now and Heaven. The thing is, most people would gather that life isn't much fun when you're slumming around in the emotional middle ground, but to be honest, I find joy more often than not. There are always hundreds upon thousands of things to be thankful for no matter how dismal things get. You may just have to work a little harder to find them. <br />
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In fact, sometimes I wonder whether or not there's even anything technically wrong with what I've decided to temporarily call "being levelheaded." I mean, obviously, imagining that you're going to die in a car crash just because you had a wonderful day is an issue. But what about simply waiting to see what happens without being incredibly hopeful so as to not have your spirits crushed when things don't go as planned? I imagine some would say that my current method of dealing is a one of self-preservation and I would have to agree with them. We are conditioned to avoid actions and situations that have led to pain in the past. So, at this point, why would I be inclined to be hopeful when few positive things have come of it before?<br />
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Yesterday, my pastor spoke of Abraham and his history of events as they pertained to the cultivating of his faith. Something that struck me throughout was how long it took for Abraham to trust. How long it took for his faith to <i>outweigh</i> his feelings.* It wasn't the fact that I thought he should've gotten a grip sooner than later. It was the fact that the dude was <i>old. </i>And that I'm a <i>baby. </i>It took literal years for his story to unfold (as is the case with everyone, but I hope you get what I mean). I don't mean that to be an excuse to learn lessons more slowly because I've "got all the time in the world." We have been given the stories of those who have gone before us partially, I'm sure, to aid us in wrapping our thick skulls around various concepts perhaps more quickly than they did. What I'm saying is that maybe all this time, all these wearisome chapters, have been cultivating <i>my </i>faith and I've been blind to it. Duh.<br />
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That's not to say that I'm going to be all smiles now. The fact remains that the future is still unknown, and I will probably continue in my method of self-preservation until something happens to change the need for it. However, maybe the pain will be that much more bearable knowing that He sees all and is never idle, always holding our fragile hearts in His all-encompassing hands. <br />
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Now the battle will be to find the tight little space between thinking that I'm going to win the lottery next month without even buying a ticket (overly positive) and thinking that I'm going get hit by a monster truck while crossing the street on my way back from an LA Phil performance (overly negative). Me and my sick little mind...<br />
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Prayers, yeah? S'il vous plaƮt et merci.<br />
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*I emphasize "outweigh" here because I think it's exactly that and <i>not</i> the elimination of human feelings.<br />
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Peace & pancakes.<br />
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-mm-<br />
<br />miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-70491285508782191142013-01-24T17:58:00.001-08:002013-01-24T17:58:20.164-08:00Titles are ominous.Well, well, well.<br />
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It's been awhile.<br />
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I suppose a small explanation of my absence is in order, but the truth is, I don't have one.<br />
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Anything I could come up with to say would either be unnecessary, excusatory, or both. What I <i>will </i>do is offer an explanation as to what has brought me back here.<br />
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In short, I began following a <a href="http://laurennicolelove.com/blog/">girl</a> on Twitter who leads a <a href="http://goodwomenproject.com/">wonderful project</a> which, after poring over for hours with tears in my eyes and warmth in my heart, caused me to once again have the desire to speak up just a lil' bit. ;)<br />
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I've always been a strong believer in talking about the hard things, which is ironic seeing as how I rarely ever do it. The whole "I'll-do-it-if-you-will" mentality is nothing more than a hindrance if no one has the <i>courage </i>to stick their nose out there. So, here's my nose. Again.<br />
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If you're new here, I would suggest that you read <a href="http://miniaturemissy.blogspot.com/2011/10/allow-me-to-introduce-myself.html">the very first post written here</a>. Because it was written in 2011 (apparently a rough time?), you may find it a bit rough around the edges. I like to think that I'm more gentle these days, but perhaps I'm not. :) In fact, I thought long and hard about erasing everything on here in some absurd attempt to......I don't know, polish my image?! I decided that not only would that be an issue of integrity, but it's also the very antithesis of what I'm trying to do here. Going back and reading those posts has allowed me to see change in myself, and/or lack thereof. To be honest, I still agree with most of the things I wrote back then. Not sure what that says about me, but we'll just have to explore that together, won't we. :)<br />
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Looking forward to sharing with and (especially) hearing from you.<br />
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~mm~<br />
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P.S. Fair warning, I use "which" a lot. I really am trying to stop.miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-79925873874728731122012-02-17T19:25:00.000-08:002012-02-17T19:25:04.898-08:00Sometimes I'm tempted to think that my life is a big joke. A big taunt, or a massive middle finger. I go back and forth between realizing that I'm surrounded by brilliantly kind people and circumstances that are completely derived from grace, and then wondering endlessly if my life is ever, for any longer than a day at a time, going to consist of <i>good, happy, positive </i>things. Whining, essentially. But not the typical sort that goes, "Wahh wahh, why is this happening to me?! I don't deserve this, and I sure as hell didn't ask to be born!" It is slightly more complicated than that. It's more of a, "Is this forever? I mean, I'm trying to take what I can away from all of this, but I'm tired of it. What do I have to grasp for this to go away? Is it going to get easier, or must I prepare for a life of cryptic misery and pondering things that may not be mine to dwell on?" kind of thing. I suppose the closest thing to compare that version to would be "worry." Honestly, I would simply just like to flip a few pages ahead. Skim a little bit. That's one of the pains about life; you can't skim.<br />
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What I'm realizing, though, is that we're not meant to. Every day serves some purpose, as does everything that happens, even (and sometimes especially) the things that we don't like, or even <i>hate. </i>We're not meant to understand every little thing right as it's happening. I can't express how much I want to say, "Okay, God, that was bloody miserable, but I made it through. So, if you please, would you tell me what about that situation benefitted anyone? 'Cause I'd really like to know. Now. Please."<br />
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Life just sucks sometimes. And it can suck for looooong-ass periods of time, too. But, <i>there's something in it. </i>Last Sunday, we were outlining the book of Genesis and we touched briefly on the story of Joseph and how his brothers hated him and so on. I got to thinking about how long Joseph had to wait until God fulfilled the promise that He made clear to Joseph in a dream of his. I don't think I'd have been able to make it without throwing little hissy fits all over the place. And Job, even. His story is a difficult one to wrap our heads around, and quite frankly, I think that many Christians just pretend to understand the gravity of it. I mean, obviously there are people who are much closer to empathizing with him than others, but.....yeah.<br />
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Something that pisses me off is when people try to deny or ignore the power of an "unfortunate" situation, or series of situations by trying to stay as frothily lofty as possible. I liken it to stuffing your mouth full of that fake whipped cream non-frosting frosting. While I in no way believe that one should wallow in the feces of life, I do feel very strongly that putting off feelings of anger/doubt/frustration/etc. as soon as they come and donning an attitude of "nothing can get me down" may have a counter-productive effect. In fact, I know it can. Happily licking that frosting off of your fingers only lasts so long before your tummy begins to rumble....<br />
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I have no real goal for this post. In fact, I'm not even sure what brought it on, but no matter. I've finally written something that I haven't yet considered deleting.<br />
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Welcome to my mind.miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-59638420083302363132012-01-17T14:21:00.000-08:002012-01-24T22:13:23.617-08:00Don't look at me; I'm growing.Sometimes growing just sucks. You know where you are, and you know where you need to be, but there's all that junk in the middle that you aren't allowed to fast-forward through. Actually, it isn't junk at all; not by any means. It is in fact what allows you to become what you will later be, making it the most spectacular thing there is about growth. So then why is it so agonizing for some? Embarrassing, even? Obviously, I can't speak for everyone (though I'd be much more comfortable doing so), but I've had a lot of time to think and evaluate over break, which I am almost (at times) tempted to classify as being dangerous because some things are brought to light that I'd rather not see... <div><br /></div><div>An example of this would be my perfectionistic mentality. Now, any who know me, if only inch deep will have caught some glimpse of this. There is no way to keep it hidden, and so I no longer try. This trait manifests itself in countless ways, but I am convinced that I am only aware of maybe five out of 398,573 of them. Anyway, I discovered that one of the areas in which this problem presents itself would be that of the growth process. Not necessarily one in particular either. Simply this (as stated before): I am aware of where I am, and also (somewhat) of where I want or need to be, but I am not humble enough to outwardly do the work that is required of me to get there. "So, you're <i>lazy," </i>you may say. Well, that's the conclusion I came to in the beginning before I realized that...that isn't it at all. Nothing could be worse than laziness...right?</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't like to be <i>seen </i>or <i>observed </i>when I'm "growing." </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't like people listening to me practice.</div><div>I don't like people watching me write.</div><div>I don't like people seeing me read my bible.</div><div>Not only do I dislike these things actually happening, but even the <i>possibility </i>of one of these events taking place is--get this--<i>enough to keep me from doing them.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>I'm insane. I. am. <i>INSANE.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>Granted, I have grown (ha!) in this struggle with vulnerability over time, but the fact that it was even there to begin with is shameful and bothersome. (And here we are again.)</div><div><br /></div><div>It really is the silliest of problems. The ideal setup would be this: "Wow, she used to suck dirt. And now, for some mysterious and miraculous reason, she's fantastic. Gee, wonder what went on in between stages?" To which I would smirk in a coy way and keep my secrets to myself. Or maybe I would reveal them. I'm not sure. </div><div><br /></div><div>Actually, yes. I would. I would say, "Well you know, I used to struggle in such and such a way, and I worked through it by doing this that and the other, and so can you, if that sort of thing works for you." I can just hear myself...</div><div><br /></div><div>I shared this in an attempt to be transparent with a personal issue that bugs the living <del>shiz</del> shit out of me. (If you flinch at "four-letter words," then you probably shouldn't be here.) It is my goal to share more of these deep, dark, twisted issues in the hopes that maybe someone else is going through something similar and/or somehow understands. </div><div><br /></div><div>If nothing else, at least you'll know more about who I am.</div>miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-29756847932704520542012-01-08T22:04:00.000-08:002012-01-08T23:22:58.550-08:00the stew of a stoicfor two decades, he has been stewing,<div>in a rather large pot,</div><div>ice hot <del>tears</del> soup.<div>the pot has been steadily getting more and more full.</div><div>in fact, it's to the point now where if he shifts the pot too much,</div><div>the contents will slosh and slightly spill</div><div>from underneath the lid<del>s of his eyes</del></div><div>burning, causing redness and pain.</div><div>he almost spilled the entire pot today.</div><div>many people would have been in the hospital</div><div>pitifully nursing third-degree burns.</div><div>it's a good thing his Father caught it just in time...</div><div>the contents have been rocking for a while now,</div><div>sometimes reaching to the brim on either side.</div><div>steam rises constantly.</div><div>sometimes a mist, practically invisible;</div><div>sometimes dense, leaving its beads of evidence </div><div>on the skin of those <del>foolish</del> <i>brave</i> enough to come close,</div><div>but always present.</div><div>sometimes people attempt getting close enough to peek inside,</div><div>or to catch a whiff, </div><div>to see what could possibly be going on in there...</div><div>some, he permits.</div><div>others, however, he most certainly does not.</div><div>what he finds most amusing, though, is when those meddlers</div><div>(who caused inspiration for the stew in the first place)</div><div>remove the lid without permission or warning</div><div>and stir aggressively with a <i>filthy</i> spoon.</div><div>or toss in handfuls upon <i>handfuls </i>of rancid ingredients.</div><div><i>or</i>, his personal favorite,</div><div>when they successfully (so they think) </div><div>lift and close the lid with the utmost care,</div><div>and then knock the knob to the burner ever so slightly,</div><div> <i>just</i> enough to crank up the heat.</div><div>he lets them think that they're helping--</div><div>that they are contributing something special.</div><div>and they are, really...</div><div>it just isn't what they think.</div><div>they are only adding volume and density.</div><div>they are only causing the mixture to brew faster.</div><div>and when it is finished,</div><div>they will be the first to taste.</div><div>it will be too hot,</div><div>and they will be brutally burned.</div><div>it will be rancid,</div><div>and they will wish to spit it out.</div><div>it will be full of the <del>pain and suffering </del></div><div>salt, pepper and vinegar</div><div>that has simmered for so very, <i>very</i> long<i>,</i></div><div>and they will gag,</div><div>trying with everything not to swallow,</div><div><i>but they will be made to consume it all</i>.</div><div>and then...</div><div><br /></div><div>it will be gone,</div><div><br /></div><div>and <del>she</del> </div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>he</i> shall stew no more.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-74828617751137481292012-01-01T00:23:00.000-08:002012-01-01T01:05:11.450-08:00Happy New Year.I haven't been able to piece any words together. My mind is reeling with memories, both sweet and excruciatingly painful. I'm thinking about the whole concept of a "new year" and why people get so hyped. Everyone is constantly looking for hope. Everyone is always looking for a fresh start, a second chance. When a new year approaches, slates are wiped clean, or so it is hoped. "That person has to forgive me now; it's a new year!" or, "I'm going to get myself together by making a militant list of things I must do to become the person that I <i>need </i>to be in order to be <i>happy." </i>What sort of language is this? <div><br /></div><div>I just can't stop thinking. I've said "Happy New Year" to only a handful of people tonight, and then I stopped. Not because I'm <i>anti </i>or <i>emo </i>(what's the new hip term that replaced "emo"?), it's just... Well, I don't really know why. I mean, I am excited for a new year. This past year may very well have been one of, if not <i>the </i>darkest year I've lived through. I'm <i>so </i>glad to be rid of it and on to something fresh and new. But see? What does that mean, "fresh" and "new"? Every single day is such. So why, then, do I say this now, and not at the start of every day? Perhaps it's because I think, "Hey, the people who have been acting crazy will probably take a break. I mean, they can't justify their evil around the start of the new year, can they?" Well, they did last year...so why couldn't they do it again? There is an automatic false sense of security that we thrive on during this time. Where it comes from? Well, I have an idea, but then again, I think we all do.</div><div><br /></div><div>It may be inferred that I am encouraging melancholy or static behavior at the start of a new year. I assure you, I am not. I am simply bringing to light some things that I have never before found interesting or worth spending more than five minutes thinking about until this night. Of course, a <i>lot </i>of things have been on my mind lately, so I'm not surprised... </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know. Anything can happen at any given moment. I only wish we were this positive and optimistic more often than not. Some of us are, yes, but not necessarily for the same reasons as we are now. Or some try to speak their way to optimism with inflated words of solace when deep down they are ailing with every breath. If there's one thing I learned during 2011, it is that there is no time for poppycock. No time for fake, lofty, philosophical shite. If everyone would just get down to the nitty gritty.... Not that it's easy to do, but hey. Life isn't sugar. Hell, half the time, it isn't even sugar-coated. But should it have to be?</div><div><br /></div><div>Since I have no real direction in which I'm trying to go, I suppose I should find some way to stop here. I learned a lot this year. A lot about people, actions, motives. Certain things I didn't know I learned until tonight, and some I won't be aware of until years from now, maybe. But my point, I guess, is that God is an amazing Father. I can't handle to think about how much He's looked after me, consoled me, held me in His arms while I threw fits, sent other people to hug my very soul with seemingly meaningless displays of kindness and compassion... I am just. <i>gobsmacked</i>. when I think of it all. Real talk, if He had not been with me, I might be anywhere. Dead, even. And maybe others, too, by my own hand. It sounds crazy and morbid to think that way, but it is when those earth-shattering realizations come to smack you like an oar in the face that you understand just that much more of who God is. It is my hope, among others, for this year that I catch even more glimpses of who my Father is through His word, and through the people that he places in my life, saved or not. I some ways I am frightened of what may happen this year, and in other ways, I am very excited. But in <i>all </i>ways, I am curious. Curious as to where my God will take me, and how much of Himself He'll reveal to me and in what ways as my hand rests in His.</div><div><br /></div><div>May you all catch a glimpse or two of our Lord this year.</div>miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-36257913269201693022011-12-27T23:37:00.001-08:002011-12-27T23:50:01.417-08:00So, let me get this straight.Everyone else is permitted to traipse around dropping their opinions, no matter how dimwitted, and yet I'm the one walking on eggshells. Not to say that I am the source of all knowledge past , present, and future, but surely I am able to speak? Well, yes. Of course I am. But not without nosy, no-lifes who thrive on hunting those who they can pull down to their level with their entrapments of getting you to second-guess your own intelligence that they only wish they possessed, all the while reeling in their own maniacal sense of false security. Deep, <i>deep </i>down, they know. <i>They know </i>how weak-minded they are.<i> </i>They <i>know </i>how confused they have become over time, and they only nurture the wound with more poison. The poison of the tongue that flies quickly with no thought (or certainly not enough), wildly spreading words of witless naivety like wildfire. They can no longer stop themselves, and anyone who's brave enough to tackle that battle gets sent home with the guilt of possibly hurting another one's feelings. I call bullshit. If so many people have tried to force-feed you spoonfuls of the "think-before-you-speak" elixir, then don't you think you ought to take it? Yes, it's nasty. But are not the words that spill out of your mouth constantly? Or do you sugarcoat your own vomit?miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-60572386538159865822011-12-01T12:02:00.001-08:002012-01-08T23:49:39.581-08:00In Jesus' Name. . ."Let us be deceitful.<br />Let us be conniving.<br />Let us act as though nothing evil is taking place.<br />Let us smile in the faces of one another.<br />Let us lie heinously.<br />Let us be secretive and secluded.<br />Let us rob another of shelter.<br />Let us be justifiably greedy.<br />Let us giveth and taketh away with a false sense of authority.<br />Let us be cruel.<br />Let us be Hellish...<p>and please,<br />let us get away with it.</p><p>In Jesus' name,<br />Amen."<br /><br /></p><p>Such is the prayer of some who warm the frontmost pews.</p>miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-39083796835314474472011-11-29T19:28:00.000-08:002011-11-29T19:45:50.354-08:00Feelings of InferiorityI am surrounded by greatness. <div>All the time, I am surrounded by greatness.</div><div>It is almost as if I skitter about on the grimy ground</div><div>beneath the feet of those who walk before me with their heads externally held high</div><div>trying to catch whatever little flakes of brilliance fall from their shedding exterior.</div><div>I crawl behind, scraping up what they need no longer and make it new,</div><div>make it my own.</div><div>I feel not much more than a recycler digging through bins</div><div>wondering how I allowed myself to get to this place.</div><div>I move as a ghost searching silently for characteristics I'd like to emulate--</div><div>or what's worse--finding characteristics that I once had</div><div>that are now either missing entirely</div><div>or trapped under the glacierous surface of what used to be my being.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hate it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Back to the beginning I must go.</div><div>On my Father's lap must I sit and beg, </div><div>"Remind me who I am again?</div><div>And please, turn me into something better than that."</div><div>Everyone wants to make a difference.</div><div>At least, they all say so. . .</div><div>It is time to turn "say" into "do."</div><div>It is time to turn wishes into actions.</div><div>It is time to turn inspiration into art.</div><div>I have come to a point at which I must be more comfortable with walking in circles to start</div><div>than I would be with standing still</div><div>watching the world pass me by</div><div>one day at a time</div><div>while being eroded by the sands of time.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The first step. . .</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>. . .has been taken.</div>miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-2029531128587539752011-11-16T20:04:00.000-08:002011-11-16T20:10:05.957-08:00Exhausted?Depleted.<div>Drained.</div><div>Pulverized.</div><div>Ripped.</div><div>Torn.</div><div>Run over by a monster truck.</div><div>And then again.</div><div>Unstable.</div><div>Discouraged.</div><div>Beaten to a pulp.</div><div>Like a ghost</div><div>wandering the halls</div><div>looking aimlessly for what he left behind</div><div>if anything...</div><div><br /></div><div>Weary.</div><div><br /></div><div>so</div><div>very</div><div>weary.</div>miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-8264937806191941712011-11-09T18:53:00.000-08:002011-11-09T19:22:43.688-08:00inspiration-someone telling you that you're going to go places<div><br /></div><div>-reading and identifying with the writings of another</div><div><br /></div><div>-finding solace in shared feelings</div><div><br /></div><div>-realizing progress after a prolonged period of being almost entirely oblivious to it</div><div><br /></div><div>-intently observing minute details in other people</div><div><br /></div><div>-being reminded of the fact that even the most revered people are still human, and therefore, their brilliance is also attainable by you (with hard work)</div><div><br /></div><div>-encouragement that strikes a chord deep within from the least likely of people</div><div><br /></div><div>-a simple gesture of affection</div><div><br /></div><div>-a full moon glowing beneath a screen of hazy clouds, like the soul of the sky</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-58674583057528403942011-11-02T20:20:00.000-07:002011-11-02T20:53:40.802-07:00Self-MutilationEmpty box.<div><br /></div><div>Blinking cursor.</div><div><br /></div><div>Racing thoughts.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Ooh, that could be good..."</div><div><br /></div><div>Twenty words tapped out.</div><div><br /></div><div>Stop... Think...</div><div><br /></div><div>"Nahh, too _____."</div><div><br /></div><div>Press and hold "delete."</div><div><br /></div><div>*sigh*</div><div><br /></div><div>Repeat.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This is what happens every single time I come here. I still care too much. I still hide within the walls of self-consciousness and timidity. I still find it petrifying to release my thoughts. Never eloquent enough. Never impressive enough. Never mature enough. Never written well enough. Never acceptable.</div><div><br /></div><div>I get inspired by the words of others, almost to the point of action, and then I am utterly crushed by intimidation. </div><div><br /></div><div>It hurts. It hurts to try and fail, or to feel inferior even when you <i>know </i>that anything that is done well by another has in some way been developed, nurtured and improved, whether by intention or subconscious habit. That knowledge has rarely been enough for me. Something is keeping me from believing it and I have yet to discover what it is exactly, but I must find it. I've grown tired of being crippled by my own irrational trepidation. I need to be freed. I need to be careless to a certain degree. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Let water flow from the deepening cracks in this prematurely aged stone.</div>miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3580791842477702762.post-67513246497793913792011-10-08T14:55:00.000-07:002011-10-08T17:00:57.053-07:00Allow me to introduce myself.I'm just another somebody.<div><br /></div><div>Just another college student who lurks around in the dark on the weekends </div><div>in their Hollister hoodie and pajama pants</div><div>with a neon green headband securing their messy bun</div><div>while they swim through endless pages of paper</div><div>until "distraction" arrives in the form of Hulu.com...</div><div><br /></div><div>Just another musician who never wants to work on their scales</div><div>even while knowing full well how bloody essential they are to progress of any kind...</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm just another friend.</div><div>Just another daughter,</div><div>just another sister.</div><div>Just another child of God.</div><div>Just another troubled soul.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just another girl who has been paralyzed with fear </div><div>by the worthless opinions of those who think they matter,</div><div>seldom taking into consideration the opinion of He who has made her.</div><div><br /></div><div>One who has been told to sit on her hands.</div><div>One who has been told to keep her tongue bitten.</div><div>One who now refuses to be a robot,</div><div>and will no longer succumb to the suffocation of silence.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am not embarking on this path to be a rebel, </div><div>nor to show that I've found my cojones.</div><div>I am not metaphorically getting sleeves of tattoos and piercing things that shouldn't be pierced.</div><div>I am trying to take steps toward growth.</div><div>I'm learning when to speak and when to be silent,</div><div>and when I chose to speak, I'm learning how to do so in an appropriate manner.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm allowing my Father to mold, break, bend, crack, poke, prod, squish and stretch me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want change.</div><div>Well, I <i>need</i> change.</div><div><br /></div><div>So here I am.</div><div>This is me.</div><div>I am not here to please you.</div><div>I am not here so that your thumb can have something to pin down.</div><div>I am not here to be an article in your prayer-meeting-version of US Weekly.</div><div>I am not here to make sure that you go through life unoffended.</div><div>However, I am also not here to intentionally offend you,</div><div>nor to instigate petty arguments about minuscule behavioral preferences.</div><div>I'm not here to spew puffed-up, intelligent-sounding nothings </div><div>that will have me classified as being too big for my skinny jeans.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm simply trying to stand firm in every sense that I'm currently capable of wrapping my head around.</div><div><br /></div><div>If you'd like to watch, you're welcome to.</div><div>If you want to discuss things in a civil and mature manner, you are <i>more</i> than welcome to.</div><div>If you love to take what you see and "run and tell that,"</div><div>then just know that while I can do nothing about it,</div><div>your Respect-O-Meter points <i>will</i> drop significantly.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pray for me.</div><div>Keep me accountable as a sister in Christ.</div><div>I need those things.</div><div>What I do not need are people who are just looking to "get up in my grill."</div><div>If that is your mission, then by all means, </div><div>do find it in your will to skedaddle.</div><div>I eat spies for breakfast. With ketchup. They're crispy.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Welcome to all who have come to see this spectacle walk the proverbial tightrope of life.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Peace, love, and carrot cake.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>miniaturemissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07233671755270163356noreply@blogger.com3