An Interview, Pt. 1

"You have a very interesting mind," she said as she sat down at the table across from me. "I'd rather like to take a look inside."

She meant my cerebellum and corpus callosum and amygdala, but I didn't correct her.

"Every word going through your mind is pertinent. Did you know that? I don't know why you don't write your thoughts down more often."

Because I'd rather not let anyone see inside, that's why. Because I'd rather censor what people see so that each person has a specific version that I've cultivated specifically for them. Everyone has a piece of me. No one has a whole. I don't know who I'm saving it for, but I certainly don't want it and I only show God my thankful side.

All this happens inside me, but I only give her a piece--

"I just don't think they're that important."

UPDATE:

I changed this into a poem for poetry class. In case you haven't checked out the Practice Makes Perfect page where I'm featuring my poetry, it's there.

The Boston Chronicles: Tuesday, 8-24-10 (Day 2)

Today was awesome. It's raining here like crazy so we didn't do a whole bunch. First we woke up extremely late and had DELICIOUS chocolate chip pancakes, that I've been dying and craving for since like April when I bought my ticket to come here.

Then we talked for hours. Katie caught me up on all of the Shall-Not-Be-Named, ridiculous drama that someone is putting her through. Katie is so awesome, that before we left for the day, I told Betsy I wanted to give her a makeshift

surprise birthday party later. The three of us took the T, yeah the T because I'm in Boston an

d can do amazing stuff like take

the T, to Newton Centre and got challah at the Blue Sky Bakery, which reminds me of the Blue Sky Cellar in Disneyland California Adventures, but there's cooler things like models of the new World of Color in there.

Afterwards, Betsy and I got some things together for Katie's makeshift surprise birthday bonanza--two kinds of ice cream because I don't like peanut butter as a dessert, M&M's toppings, "streamers" which were really wrapping paper ribbons because CVS blows a bit in that department, cards that were AWESOME, and a magazine as a birthday present. When we got back to the BK Lounge, we decorated the place with our "streamers" and I made dinosaurs/work horses to put up on the kitchen wall. We also made her a crown because she is QUEEN OF THE DINOSAURS!

Then we talked some more and convinced her to go New York City with us! Betsy and I leave tomorrow! Yay!

The Boston Chronicles: Monday, 8-23-10 (Day 1)

Bad things come in threes and hopefully I've had my three bad things for this trip.

1. I have a MONSTER PERIOD.

2. New York Pass = NO SHOW.

3. I have a 2 hour delay in Dallas.

Good things

1. My check-in luggage made it to Boston.

2. Free water from Subway

3. Being in BOSTON!

4. God getting me through this crazy day.

5. Meeting the lovely Katie Russell.

6. My first taxi ride through the bright lights of Boston at two in the morning

and finally

7. SEEING BETSARIO, MY OLDER SISTER FIGURE!

Sending out prayers for an awesome trip!

do you agree with me when I say if there's a just God, He/She/It would rather us spend our days of worship volunteering or doing charity rather than church?

Yes. I do agree. I believe he wants us to do that too. Sometimes, I think people view worship as a singular act of singing along to some songs in church, but worship comes in all sorts of ways. I love the topic of spiritual gifts (1 Corinthians 12, Ephesians 4) because these show just how many different ways you can worship the Lord, just by serving in Spirit. If volunteering is your thing, maybe the Spirit has blessed you with a gift for compassion, or servitude, or both, or something else. Personally, forms of worship for me come in my own spiritual gifts of shepherding and encouragement, which for me translates to giving people advice and counseling. I also believe that when I'm married, being a good wife will be a form of worship. There are so many amazing spiritual gifts and different ways to worship and I love to talk about them, preferably in person, so if you ever want to talk to me about it, feel free.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

Shingles Me Timbers

Ladies and gentleman, specifically to gross you out, I have Shingles.

It's a real classy disease, let me tell you.

First, you notice a pain wherever Shingles is preparing to erupt and ruin your life. It can feel like a soreness. Some people believe they've pulled a muscle. This, my friends, is not the case. Your nerve is being attacked by the little Shingles gnomes (of course they're gnomes) and undergoing severe gnome devastation like that can make anything feel sore.

Then, the little Shingles gnomes start popping up in the spot where they conquered your nerve. There's like one or two, in my case three, and you feel them one day as you're rubbing your sore ass shoulder. If you're anything like me you think "Whoa... are these cancer bumps?" because you are always, and I mean ALWAYS, scared you will get cancer on your back. And for some reason it always, and I mean ALWAYS, starts with tiny bumps. You run to your mom "MOM I HAVE CANCER BUMPS!!!" and she rolls her eyes at you and looks at them. "No, you have pimples... now SHUT THE HELL UP!" *Author's note: My mom probably wouldn't say that to me, well, maybe she would, but not so dramatically. The dramatic use of cursing and CAPS LOCK is specifically for humor purposes only. Now, let's continue*

BUT YOU'RE BOTH WRONG BECAUSE IT'S THE SHINGLES GNOMES. AND THEY ARE LAUGHING MANICALLY AT YOUR CANCER HYPOTHESIS BECAUSE YOU ARE SO FUCKING WRONG!

The little Shingles gnomes start reproducing and gyrating to some awful techno music that Chad Michael Murray probably enjoys. This creates more bumps and makes them all itchy. All you want to do is itch those stupid bumps because you KNOW that if you just itched it once it would all go away, so you do. But the itch does not go away because the little Shingles gnomes are all on ecstasy and that makes their itchy dance rave go for 24 hours a day.

So, in my situation because I am poor, I do not go to a doctor's office. I probably could count the number of times I've been to the doctor with my limbs. I fight the little Shingles gnomes dance rave with itch cream. Take that, little suckers. Screw your dancing. I will win. I won't itch!

This itch-cream-repeat routine happens for a while. You get another patch on your arm that isn't as crazy looking as the back, but makes you seriously consider the fact that you have a flesh eating virus and that you are dying. You think about life and what it's meant to you and you pray a lot that you don't have the flesh eating virus. You finish the letters that you'd half written in your "In The Event of My Death" folder you have on your laptop. You figure out who gets what of your possessions (I'm taking Little Foot to my fiery kiln of a burial, mofos. Don't even think about it.).

Your aunt tells you you have a fungus. What the hell? There's mushrooms or moss or whatever fungus is growing on your back!?! You don't know what "fungus" means exactly, but it doesn't sound pretty. And, in fact, it does not look pretty either. As you desperately search Google images for "skin eating fungus" (Don't do it.), you realize that your life will probably end and you will look disgusting. You will look like your skin is entirely gone and your muscles are just out there, exposed to the world, naked of their protective epidermis layers.

And then you get a new patch on your wrist. You either have some insanely awkward cancer, or in fact you do have the flesh eating virus. Those are the only options.

You go to the doctor. She exclaims "YOU HAVE HERPES."

You reply, "Listen, lady. I'm sure you are very adequate at your job. I'm sure you excel at it. But the thing is, there's no way I can have herpes because... well... I... don't... do it. Yes, I don't have sex? Don't look at me like that. I'm not lying. Yeah, so I can't have herpes."

But you think there's a possibility because that one time you were in the Sonic bathroom with your mom and she realized you don't really like toilet seat covers and she told you if you kept doing that you'd probably gets AIDS and STD's. You remember how that one time she asked you what would happen when your survivor phone finally broke and you told her stfu because your survivor phone would never break and then IT DID FOR NO REASON! You realize she's right about things all the time and maybe she's right about you having herpes because you don't use toilet seat covers. You think about how no one will want to marry you because you will probably get those creepy wart things down below and who wants someone with an STD and they've never even have the S?!?

All this passes through your mind quicker than it took to read that paragraph and then you realize the doctor is looking at you like you're an idiot.

"You have Shingles, which is a reoccurrence of chicken pox. When you have gone through chicken pox, the virus lays dormant in your nerves and sometimes it can resurface as Shingles, which is treated the same way as Herpes."

And then you figure out the little bumps are actually the dancing, gyrating, techno-loving little Shingles gnomes. You get a prescription and you take the first pill, thinking SCREW YOU, LITTLE SHINGLES GNOMES! I AM CALLING THE ACYCLOVIR POPO ON YOUR DUMB BACK/ARM/WRIST BLOCK PARTY!

And then you win. The tides turn and once you've got the acyclovir popo on your side, there's nothing the little Shingles gnomes can do. You're destroying them five times a day with food and plenty of water.

Thank you to all who were with me technologically when I went to the doctor's and for all the encouragement and prayers you sent my way. This post is dedicated to you.

Which is worse: a striped cat or a plain cat?

Both make me want to projectile vomit.


Maybe a striped cat.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

Which is worse: moldy food or spotty bananas?

Moldy food is worse because you can't really do much with it. Spotty bananas are disgusting but you can put them in my famous Poor-Man's-Smoothie so they do have their uses. Moldy food does not.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

Why are the Yankees your favorite?

The Yankees are my favorite probably because Katie likes them. I get caught up in other people's excitement really easily. But I also am REALLY good at calling A-Rod's home runs, which is what started my whole obsession to begin with. And I really love Johnny Damon (who switched to the Tigers) and Mark Texiera.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

A Video Blog... In Five Parts

Eat Pray Love Page 208

A recent theological idea has really sparked some intense pondering in me. I know I should put absolutely zero stock in whatever that train wreck Elizabeth Gilbert has to say about religion and God, but she brought forth an idea that I cannot get over, despite discussing it with Stephanie and then her parents as well.

She talks about cherry-picking from religions and how she disagrees with the sentiment of that being wrong--"I think you have every right to cherry-pick when it comes to moving your spirit and finding peace in God... It's the history of mankind's search for holiness. If humanity never evolved in its exploration of the divine, a lot of us would still be worshiping golden Egyptian statues of cats. And this evolution of of religious thinking does involve a fair bit of cherry-picking." I have to say I believe cherry-picking is ok in certain aspects. I believe people, even in Christianity, find God in different ways--nature, music, photography, books, words, meditation, exercise, bungee jumping, fishing, whatever-- and you can search for those ways in other religions. Sometimes, things just work for you better than others and I think God put those in your path to help you reach Him. Why wouldn't He?

I'm sure how I feel about cherry-picking though in other aspects. I definitely don't believe it's ok to cherry-pick what you want for the Bible, especially when arguing about theology. I don't believe it's right at all and I think when people do that it only hurts God and hurts the image of God in others. Not that I'm saying I don't do this, but I don't know if I know the Bible enough to even cherry-pick from it. When I discuss God, I go by feeling, by instinct, and this implicit and childlike faith I have in His existence. I'm unsure about whether or not I'm ok about cherry-picking who God is or who Jesus is only because I'm afraid the somewhere in this post I might do just that. In other words, I don't think it's right but I don't want to condemn myself before I even write it. Guess I already have.

So, here I am going to quote a few things because I had to take a break from writing this and I lost my train of thought. I shall ramble until I find it again.

"The Hopi Indians thought that the world's religions each contained one spiritual thread and that these threads are always seeking each other, wanting to join."

This idea intrigues me greatly. I would love it if all our religions were more interconnected than we actually thought. I think what really gets me about this idea is the fact that it seems to peaceful and harmonious, which I believe is something we need between religions. I don't think there should be conflict between religions. In essence, we're all trying to achieve the same thing. As each religion out there says, their own religion is the only way to attain salvation and that's fine. I believe my way and you can believe yours and we'll encourage each other to the end. I don't think we should be constantly attempting to convert people to one way or another or fighting over who is right. In reality, we'll honestly never truly know until we die.

That's hard for me to say as Christian because I am supposed to say that my way is right. Maybe deep down, I'm unsure over whether or not Jesus purchased my salvation with His blood, but I know I also don't want to give up the possibility that people who believe different things will go to hell. There are some truly good people I know who aren't Christians, but their undeniable goodness is so overwhelming to me, it's unfathomable they would be sent to hell. In all honesty, I have a hard time with concept of heaven and hell at all. I have not read much about what heaven and hell is like in what I have read of the Bible so I don't really have anything to go off of at all except the decision I made long ago, which is that no matter what happens after I die, heaven, hell, nothing, reincarnation, some crazy wake-up Pushing Daisies status, it doesn't matter to me. I do believe God is real and that I am here on Earth for His purposes and that I'll do whatever I can to please Him and live a good life on His earth.

But going back to different religions and what they say about God and salvation, I shall quote the line that has most intrigued me out of this whole page-- "this glimmering idea that God might be bigger than our limited religious doctrines."

NOTE OF WARNING: The following is purely just thought and ideas and talking things through. These are not my official beliefs.

This one line sparked a whole new idea of God for me, one that I'm not putting a ton of faith because again this freaking ridiculous EPL and Elizabeth Gilbert is kind of a religious wack-job, but anyway. I thought of this after thinking about this line for some time-- You know how God communicates to us differently and we all have our different spiritual gifts and things we're destined for, well, what if religions worked in the same way? Like maybe different religions were created by Him to speak to different kinds of people? Some people are made to believe in Christianity, to take that blind leap of faith that Jesus died for our sins and that God is this awesome Holy Dad. Some people were made for rules and rituals and yamakahs and really long holidays. Some people were made to pray east five times a day. And so on and so forth. I mean, just within Christianity alone are a ton of different denominations, ways to seek God, etc. And adding to that idea, before Jesus came along, the Christian God was in fact a Jewish God. So why couldn't the God we proclaim to be infinite actually be infinite?

If you think about it, we've been told many times as Christians not to put God in a box, yet isn't that exactly what Christianity is--a box. We are saying that there is only ONE way to reach God, which is a very small box indeed. What if God was more infinite than one? That thought right there goes entirely against everything Christianity holds dear to itself, but it's a legitimate question I think. In reality, the Bible was written by humans. We could've gotten it wrong. We could've come up with it ourselves. I know those ideas are answered through faith, but it's true. We are human and maybe we limited God. Or maybe God wanted to be limited to speak to a certain group of people. I don't know. I don't really believe in any of this.

However, I do like the idea of infinite God, a truly infinite God. As Stephanie's parents put it, He is infinite yet He placed rules upon Himself when Jesus died upon the cross (paraphrased, not verbatim, and possibly not entirely accurate--I had a lot of questions spilling around in my head when they were talking to me). I can understand that. God put Himself in a box because Jesus was the truth. That is a novel idea to me in this whole in-my-head discussion I've been having about this and it makes sense--God placed Himself in a box when Jesus died for all of our sins.

Hmmmm.... new ideas to think about now.

Anyway, if you've gotten this far without being offended, awesome. I hope I didn't offend anyone or made you think I was an awful, unbelieving "Christian." It wasn't my intention. I love God with all I have and I'm working on bettering it more and more. I think this discussion is a part of that.

In the words of Stephanie, "Don't call me a bad Christian. I'll kill you!"

A Decade Under The Influence

I turned 20 today.

20.

That's a whole new era for me.

20.

It's something entirely different.

I'm not a teenager anymore. I can't necessarily be called a kid anymore. There's no more teen rebellion. No more... I don't know. I mean, quite honestly, there's no way I'm ever going to stop being a kid. If I can be one thing in my life, I hope I'm always a kid. I think deep at heart I'm like a 5 year old little boy. I say boy because tonight in the midst of a very important and philosophical conversation with Chad, Michael, Stephanie, and Amelia (Sorry, Jenna, you left too early) I definitely started talking about poop.

But a whole second decade of my life is gone. I've lived two decades and I'm not sure what I have to show for it. I don't know if I should be writing this after such a long day now at 4:30 in the morning, but sometimes I wonder what I've contributed to the world.

It's difficult to really believe that though considering it took me 45 minutes to go through all of the Facebook birthday messages, videos, blogs, and I've spent pretty much the last 48+ hours in birthday mode with friends and family, which by the way, I love. Definitely using my birthday to my advantage more often next time. But there were these tiny and large message from people I've touched. Sure they saw my birthday on their Home Page or (for my much closer friends) knew about it anyway, but they still took time out to say something to me. How amazing is that. I'm loved. And I know it.

And despite being told countless times today how well I show my love to others, I feel I don't show it enough. Isn't that weird? Sometimes I feel like I need a complete 180 on how I treat people. I need more lessons on love. And I want to take those lessons. So I'm going to take them from the person who knows best about them--God.

I feel like the past two decades of my life have been influenced by things that they shouldn't have been--boys, money, idleness, procrastination-- to name a few. I want this decade to be marked by Him and the love in the relationships I have and will develop. It's a large commitment, but I've supposedly given my life to Him, so why shouldn't I give Him a decade? I want this to be so filled with Him I can't separate this time in my life from Him.

I've already started doing this. Stephanie and I bought the full works of C.S. Lewis and we're reading them together, going over them together, and beginning to talk about our faith together--something we've never done really. We both want this and I think it was a great first step towards a whole new area to our friendship, one I'm really excited about.

So, that is what I wanted to say. I'm living in a decade under the influence of Him. This post was probably no coherent, but I needed to write it before I went to bed. It needed to be written "today." I shall write another with details on the birthday soon.

But thank you to everyone. You each fill my heart so much, it could burst any moment. Thank you to all the people who are exceptionally poignant in my life, to those on the outskirts, and those who've left it for good. You've all made words, phrases, paragraphs, and chapters in my life.

No Direction

I have a new blog because I am... NO LONGER A SOPHOMORE. So I definitely could not have a blog (im batmaaaaaan -Katie) that implies that I am one. I'm not a sophomoric little second-year. I'm a third year, with an infantile enthusiasm and the mindset of a four year old.

As of right now, I have no time to reflect upon the events of my second year here at UCSD as I'm about to hit the town with my A-TEAM of ladies. Hannibal, Face, Murdock, and BA are going to go the rock the world.

I love them all and am happy to be spending my last night with them. That sentence could sum up my year quite easily.

WHAT DOES SPACE LOOK LIKE?!?! (I know the answer to this.)

SPACE LOOKS LIKE A RACCOON.

Ask me anything. I dare you.