Dear World

Dear World,

I regret to inform you that I no longer consider myself to be a part of you. The contract between the both of us is binding. Although I will still be living and roaming amongst you, I will not be a part of you. I will be starting a revolution against the things which you have created. As people look upon us I would not like to be tattooed with your creations. I would like to withdraw all considerations of labeling me with wars and weapons, armies and advertising, prejudice and pride, selfishness and starvation, sex and seduction, turmoil and treachery, money and mayhem, greed and government. I am sorry, but I will not conform to your ways.

It's not you, it's me...ok it's you.

Your way is cool and all, but it just never seems to fill my satisfaction. It is like I am trying to fill up this hole and the stuff you have just doesn't fit. I have found another world, another kingdom that fills this hole. It's the only one that can fill anyone's hole. So if you know anyone else that isn't satisfied or happy with you, send them on over. There is always room for more.

I hope there are no hard feelings,
Mat Pautsch

I Want To Write To You

I would have written something to you today
But fate would have it, that it is not the way
So maybe I should write you something to say
Would that point you in the right way?

I would have told you how I feel
But then that would break my seal
The love of my heart won't peel
It only moves like a wheel

Grab on, hold on tight
Cause this thing is about to take flight
No thanks, it's already got a light
And yes, it does turn right

Keep holding on, it's about to explode
Cause love can take off quite a load
There is no need to break the code
It's already free, like an open road

So here I write, fingers flowing fluently
Writing to you, hopefully not to prudently
Wishing it not to forward, or to rash
Or maybe to fast, like a mad man dash

I dreamt of you in the fog
So I ran back with a jog
Jumped over a log
And wrote you this blog

Because I want to write to you...

Cure Me

I watched A Christmas Story tonight. You know, the "You'll shoot your eye out" movie. I enjoyed it, sitting down on the floor, drinking some water.

It's been a stressful time throughout the last couple of weeks. It has had its ups and downs, all-nighters and naps. I asked and I am still asking a lot of questions during this time. Not out loud to anybody, but only to myself. Sometimes I would scream it to myself and other times I would write it down. I would get angry, writing all my problems down. I would type and type screaming at myself and at others for bringing the rocky roads and the sleepless nights.

I hate it.

Everything is piling up. School, life, friends. The weight is getting unbearable. Crying won't help, as much as I try. A hug might help, but I won't feel anything. So I close my eyes so I can see nothing around me but blackness. Everything around me is gone. It is peaceful, but never lasts.

But tonight I watched A Christmas Story. About half-way through the movie I felt a calmness, a head on my shoulder. No head was there, but it felt like it was. It brought a smirk to my face, and breath of fresh air. A new feeling in my heart strings. People I don't even know, laughing together, that's a cure. You might not know there name or where they're from but you enjoy one another, laughing.

So laugh, love, and live.

The Music

Someone once told me, "Music is what feelings sound like"

Sometimes I think music and media get too much of a bad reputation. Yes, there is some stuff out there I will never understand and is pure evil, but I believe that to find the truly good stuff you have to search deeper. There is music out there with truly remarkable lyrics and I thought I'd share some of them with you.

I won't go into detail for any of them, but if you want to know what some of them mean to me feel free to ask.

Yellowcard : Paper Walls : Shadows and Regrets
: And we were only kids
And our time couldn't end
And how tall did we stand
With the world in my hands

Skillet : Comatose : Yours to Hold
: I'm stretching but you're just out of reach
I'm ready when you're ready for me

Classic Crime : Albatross : Who Needs Air
: I never knew the world until I saw through your eyes,
I never knew my self until I ripped off my disguise.


Linkin Park : Minutes to Midnight : What I've Done
: I'll face myself
To cross out what I've become
Erase myself
And let go of what I've done

Chris Brown : Exclusive : Superhuman
: Don't know what your doing to me with your love
I'm feeling all Super human
You did that to me
Super human heart beats in me
Nothing can stop me here with you, superhuman

The Dance

A music box is a powerful thing. A beautiful tune coming out of a small box that brings peace and harmony to my ears. I become entranced when I hear a thing such as this. I close my eyes and imagine myself swaying to the music.

I am dancing.

No worries or stress. Life cannot get a hold of me, all other noises leave me. I am happy, content, and wanting to party. The dance is the party. Never do I want to stop dancing because then the party will end. The dance shall never end. I want to party and dance, always making sure I don't lose my footing.

In a music box, the music eventually stops. Someone has to wind it up again so we can party and dance more.

There is a guardian that winds up the music box of life, but makes sure that our hearts are set to the right beat of the dance.

If we dance for ourselves, the music stops.
If we fake the dance, the music stops.

There are other fake guardians, telling everyone to dance to their own tune. So beware of them.

We dance for others and for the one and only guardian. The guardian keeps the music going while we dance and invite others to come along and join the dance. You tell them all about the guardian of the music box.

I read somewhere that," music is freely honest, approachably impersonal, and romantically attractive."

If that is music, then dancing is an expression of that.

So dance. Dance to the music.

Tonight We Shine

And as a star shines so bright
I see nothing but darkness here
I know stars shine this night
But why isn't that anywhere near?
What do I do to take flight?
What should I do to burn so bright?

Lay Myself Down To Sleep

Goodnight my fellow dreamers
Goodnight my fellow stars
As long as you are with me
You do not seem so far
Though the sky is dark
My heart is filled with light
And even though I want to leap
I lay myself, down to sleep

I Don't Have That

I read something that caught my eye. I read a book that said something just like it. I thought I'd share some of it with you guys ( or ya'll ). I think some things in this generation are misinterpreted and have been for quite some time. Religion, government, school, wars, global warming, fossils fuels, and media for starters. I do not know or have all of the answers and I'm cool with that. Who knows, it might be better that way.
I don't have "that". But I have other things. I struggle with temptation, doubt, and pride. The drive behind me I cannot explain. I long to become something that I will never be, but I have a passion to drive towards it anyway. It will be tough, like the narrow path usually is, but with love, community, and longing; I shall keep going down the endless path.

I don't have a religion.
I have a relationship.

I don't have a government.
I have an eternal King.

I don't have education.
I have faith.

I don't have enemies.
I have neighbors.

I don't have a country or world.
I have a kingdom, and it is not of this world.

I don't have a church.
I have a culture and a community.

I don't carry a sword.
I carry a cross.
( Because those who live by the sword, die by the sword. )

I don't try.
I live.

You

I am weak.

You are strong.
Your love is strong.

I am strong with You.

I have fear.

You are fear.
You created fear.

I will only fear You.

I don't know what to do.

You can do things through me.
You are the center of my life.

I will make you the boss.


I have nobody.

You're all I need.
This world has nothing for me.

I need You.


I don't deserve You.

You love me.
YOU LOVE ME!

I love You.

In Your Arms

In Your arms

I feel no harm

In Your hands

I feel like sand

Everything under the stars

Is in Your arms

You allow me to roam

But I am so far from home

I am nothing

yet I am in Your arms

Broken, oppressed, and dirty
I fall on my knees

exposed and free
open my eyes and see

I am Yours

I turn around and run

I had no idea the pain would be this strong

I had no idea the fight would last this long
I am still running

You know what I can be

Seeing me, You cry

I offer a simple plea

That maybe You will love me

and from Your arms

I shall not pry

Breathe In, Breathe Out
In Your arms, I feel no doubt

Your presence consumes me

Your word ignites me

I am on fire!

All in Your arms

Taken

I saw a sign today for some stoplight party. You wear green if you're single, yellow if you don't know, and red if you're taken. Sounds like speed dating to me.

I wondered what I was, because sometimes I am not sure. Other times I am taken, and others I am single. Sometimes I want to be single. A lone wolf in the wild as some would put it. Other times I want to be taken, totally taken over that I just do what I know is right. Then there are times of mystery, where I don't know what I want to be. It's like going from one side of the fence to another, and every now and then staying right on the fence. Being taken gives you someone to carry you in a time of struggle, someone to talk to when no one else can hear your voice. You don't have that if you're alone.

They say everyone has a need to belong. Everyone needs to be loved. I think that is true. So I think I would like to be taken, and that even when I think I am single, I am really taken.

So imagine a picture of two sets of footprints walking along the beach. One of them is your own and the other is the taker. When I am in a time of struggle, there is only one set of footprints, and it's not my own. My taker carries me, because I am too weak, takes the burden of my struggles and sins. For even when I felt all alone, and when I am in my most desperate hour, the taker is there to carry me.

I pursue to be taken, and taken I shall become.

Absorbed

Someone spilled something on the carpet today in my english class.

I'm not a fan of the carpet. It has more dirt in it than actual carpet. There is remains of what it used to be. I don't think it has potential to make a comeback to the glory days.

Or does it?

They placed a paper towel on the carpet to clean up the mess. As the paper towel absorbed the liquid it became more and more stained with its' color. Afterwards there was little evidence of the mess. If you were to look at the paper towel, it would be evident of what had happened.

The towel took the hit.

It's like I am the carpet, stained from years of turmoil, guilt, and pride. And then some paper towel comes along and says,"Hey, let me absorb your stain."

I question the paper towel.

"Why are you doing this to me? I'm stained and dirty. You're clean and perfect."

The paper towel responds in oh so majestic form.

"Don't you want to be clean? I want to absorb these stains from you because I love you."

"But if you absorb my stains you will become dirty and stained!"

"The roll from which I come from is infinitly long, it never runs out of paper towels."

"Ok, but how do I keep myself from getting stained?"

"Pursue becoming like me, follow my ways, and tell others about me."

So here I stand over-trampeled and over-run with dirt. I become aware of this paper towel, tapping my shoulder, ready for me to turn around and acknowledge it.

The towel absorbs my stain. But what if the stain comes back? When it comes back I will look into it eyes and laugh because I do not fear it. For I am wrapped in paper towels, ready to fight any evil-doers.

Together with the paper towel, I am absorbed.

Clean Hands, Clean Hearts

Today I cleaned.  It's not so bad, but some people will differ.

I wonder if their is any skill involved with cleaning?  I guess I could make it a profession, some people do it.  Maybe that should be my major...

Among cleaning I also did laundry.  I know, the multi-tasker at heart.  There is a good thing about laundry.  When it's done, it's clean.  But when you clean a desk, it could still be dirty.

When I think about it, when you wash clothes, it goes through torture.  First it drowns in a waterfall of liquid and then chemically combines with detergent to pulverize the dirt that has woven itself into the fabric.  The washer then spins and spins until clothes aren't sure which way is up.  How cruel we are.

When you clean something, you just wipe it once so it likes a little bump in the road of pain.   You don't go in and clean it like a washer does.  I find it strange.

I look at myself I wonder how I am cleaning myself.  

Do I go through torture or a small bump?

Do I just wipe a cloth and call it clean? 

Do I torture myself?

Do I pulverize all the dirt woven into my heart and soul?

So I don't just want to be cleaned.  I want to be washed.  I want to go through torture.  I want to spin and spin and not know which way is up or where I am going.  I want to be washed inside and out.  I want the dirt woven in to my being to be taken out.  I want to trust that I'll make it through and that I'll become more than a conqueror.

I want to be made clean...