my heart hurts

wilst write thou you on morn? (and other thoughts outstanding)

i don't journal. not like i used to anyway. and this is a crying shame ... i can sense you are bawling already. you should stop that now, it's not going to do either one of us a bit of good or change the fact. unless you just haven't had a good cry in a while. then, feel free. it makes us feel more human when we exercise our tear ducts. some of us (me) could use exercise of any kind after the latest night i had...

like i said, i once collected my thoughts in little flowered printed, college ruled notebooks. and i wrote very nice things in them. made good promises to God. created space for solitude. and became reasonably self-aware in the process.

besides, a few years back, i had a heaping crush on a charming intellectual named ... (you didn't think i was going to be that transparent, did you?) and he told me that i ought to jot things down. when a charming intellectual tells you anything, you mostly do it with all the cutesy and insightfulness you can conjure.

so it began, the writing. funny thing is, when i wrote things on paper (an archaic thought in the wake of word documentation) i must have taken on some sort of 18th century poetic form.

seriously, i re-read these old journals and i'm amazed at the antique tones that emerged from my authorship. incredible, really. makes me believe there might be something to it. that no matter how vintage a journal cover from barnes and noble might be, one doesn't slip in and out of language from the romantic era without some good reason.


theory one: i have taken to the belief that God is too lofty for the language of a person living in 2008. that he has somehow been confined to the thees and thous and havest yous of the king james Bible. that he must have nothing further to say to the billions of people who currently roam about and use slang.

theory two: i find it easier to be authentic when i'm being someone else. like having a pseudonym, a pen name for your own journals. hmmmm, a seriously contradictory thought. but i think i'm really onto something here. there is no ownership or accountability with ghostwriting. and sometimes that the sort of freedom you need to say what's really on your mind.

i used to have the most profound conversations with my friend, while talking in a napolean dynamite voice. this wasn't a one time occurrence. no, we went on this way for an entire year. i could say anything and it flew. so, there i sat baring my soul in full napolean character, and she would likewise respond with a spot-on kip. his lisp and all. talent show material if you ask me. without our voices to hide behind, we were practically mutes.

theory three: at one point faith IS romantic, and that's when you write about it. and then it gets dirty, and that's when you can't. and you wait for the day when mysticism and realism will be reconciled inside you with power, which might make for a journal entry unlike any other.

that's why in the book of revelation they talk about having scrolls in heaven. cause words still matter there.

what is all this i'm saying? this isn't even what i was going to write about tonight. too late, the words are spilled and i'm too tired to clean them up.




in (much needed) conclusion,

journaling is good, i think. necessary for discipleship? well, no. i suppose not. might not be your thing.

maybe i'll pick it back up one day. and i won't go all jane austen-esque on the pages. maybe i'll write in my own voice. but maybe it doesn't even matter.


i do think it might speed up the process if a charming intellectual came along ...

at the end of everything

here we are

the edge of the universe

the end of everything

the lights you see blinking off in the distance?

those aren't stars, but holes, spots of nothing burning into reality

this the end of all of everythi-

...hey, stop looking at your iPhone.

R AN D OM

So, Dallas anyone?

I think that's where i am headed. No joke. A lot of thought and prayer has gone into this massive decision. I'll apply...parents don't NOT approve of that.

I'm also awaiting my Canon XS to come in. It will be worth it. (600 dollars BETTER freaking be worth it.)

Random thoughts, i know. But, i'm not in a mood to right some long, profound, thought provoking blog post...sorry. not really.





Speaking of thought provoking; i'm reading an awesome book by Donald Miller. I don't exactly remember the name of it at the moment...but, it's good. I sat in my window seat reading it from 2:30pm up until when the street lights came on.



I also learned a lot today. In European History. No, i didn't learn about Europe, or history. I learned about street law. Let's just say it got me in the mood to LEGALLY defy the law...if that makes any sense at all.



Upon making my decision to apply at CFNI, i have also made several other decisions and have had numerous revelations concerning my future and me. ...and boys.
Can i just say that i give way too many second (third, fourth, fifth...) chances? If any of you know me at all, you know that i can be extremely indecisive. Now, that can go for shopping or simply making a decision on what drink to order at the Starbucks on memorial and macArthur. So, back to my point(?). The decision that i had initially made concerning my feelings toward this young fellow have quickly, and confusingly, changed, and are still changing. I know, i know...must you be so complex, Allison? *sigh*
I had a long talk with my sister about him the other night. A long, long conversation consisting of me venting and her listening. (while throwing in some well needed sarcastic comments along the way.) Just the fact that i needed to vent showed me that my initial decisions were correct.
...and i'm perfectly okay with that.







now, i don't know if that was thought provoking..
but, it sure was long.

hoah!

You're a man, and such you need not constant reminders of your manliness. Take for instance, Gear Head Shampoo ($6), featuring all sorts of manly ingredients like Aloe Vera gel, oils of lemon, orange and basil fragrances, and Jojoba oil, all poured into a man-friendly, motor oil-esque bottle. If you don't have a penis, this stuff clearly isn't for you.

i'm sorry, that was slightly inappropriate and mildly sexist.

stuck

i apologize for the random deleting in some of my postings, friends. if you are bracing yourself for some sort of genius to emerge from this post, i fear you should ... unbrace (?)

sometimes life is too much for words. and thats when you hope the groans of the Spirit are interceding on your behalf.



so, it wasn't until just recently that i noticed on this certain road i would pass the factory of Can-Do National Tape. i think you would agree, it's a bit odd. but, it opened several avenues of thought. and like it or not, i have never been one to take the mental highway.
avenues have more scenery and adventure.

where was i? oh yes, the tape.

truth of it is, i need some can-do tape in my life. a lot of things are broken there. relationships. a few dreams. those earrings i really liked. some promises. all sorts of technology, broken. and that's just getting started.

where are you mr. fix it man? you with your can-do tape, there is a tear in my heart and i think you have the cure. sell me your adhesive and tell me it's eternal. that i won't ever break like so, again.

when all these voices are sayin you can't. or not one bit. it aint gon' happen for ya. you haven't earned it. your voice won't carry.

have you ever considered saying back, you're right. i can't. but i'm not scared. cause God's got this one ... and every other one.

tape like this doesn't doesn't just sit on our desks next our business cards and white out pens. someone at the Can-Do National Tape factory wants us to search. wants us to surrender. and maybe even wants our brokenness?? because everyone knows that the quick fix doesn't make us disciples, it just makes us americans.

baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.( i think that was a holy groan)

but, i hope everyone everywhere comes to a place in their life where they know they can't. where their over the counter prescriptions spill and their imitation tape falls off and their friends don't save them.



cause it might be the first time they say the Lord's prayer, and mean it.

sleeping

We filled out pockets with dry leaves, made leafy pillows and lay down beneath the cinnamon tree. We stared up at the sun with our eyes closed & saw the dust in the air turn into fireflies. We lay with the day. The wind snuck into the cracks of our sleeves, & played songs in our ears.

c'mon...just one bite.

remember how Satan deceived Eve into taking the first bite?










I'm Eve.

short, sweet, and to the point. FOR ONCE.

Over the past few months or so, i have learned that just because someone is in a higher position than you are...that you shouldn't hang on every word they speak.

People, regardless of whether they are a youth pastor, pastor, or professor, will undoubtedly throw in their opinion somewhere in their lessons or dissertations. People all come from different backgrounds and churches, denominations, etc. and they have all been taught something different.

I used to have the mindset that since they were my pastor or professor, and since they had a degree in something, that everything they were saying was the truth and nothing but the truth. Oh, how i was wrong...nothing but wrong.


Since we are sponges, per se, it is our job to guard the information of which we intake. Look it up for yourself. If you feel the holy spirit checking your soul....listen.

Check yo'self before you wreck yo'self.

Vampires

Everytime I hear about the Twilight series it makes me want to edit the Wikipedia page on vampires and remove the word "blood".



"Although many different cultures have been found to have myths of vampirism, it seems one defining factor is that all vampires suck blood"

felt like hot cocoa today

I always have the same thought process.

I'm in the problem, I'm over thinking the problem, I'm in the problem. Then something will happen to bring me to my senses. Something that will enable me to fall back into the place of understand that I sat in before this so called problem occurred. Then I can laugh. Laugh at the problem that was at hand. It was such a silly problem. And now that I look at it, it doesn't seem so much a problem as it was a misunderstanding in my own mind. I wasn't looking at it clearly.
I was looking at it from the angle of what I wanted to see. Feeding the problem (misunderstanding) for no reason at all.

Life is a silly thing.

Although, I will never look at this 'misunderstanding' the same foolish way the second time.
I have learned, and thus, grown.

So, what do you do

when you want to paint a picture, and there are no more paints?
when you want to dance, and there is no room?
when you want to sing, yet you can't find the words?
when you want to write, and all of the paper is gone?

what to do, what to do...

i have all of these creative desires and i don't know what to do with it all. All of these thoughts and no where to put them.



Can i just skip town?

Drive, explore, capture the beauty i know is out there. No plan. No to-do list. Just you...me...and you're wonderful creations.

I just want to lay down in the middle of a field of flowers and stare up at the clear blue sky...feel the warm wind sweep across my skin...the sun kiss my face. Then i want to close my eyes and feel you. I just want to enjoy you.




Oh, Lord! How i want to capture the astounding things you have created! I want to show the world what you have made...hm. what you're made of.

I want to paint a picture for you.
I want to dance before your thrown in humble adoration.
I want to sing you a beautiful song and lead your people into your presence.
I want to simply write you a psalm, like David.

Oh, you're overwhelming; i can't keep it all inside. I need to unlock my creative outlets and pour them out for you.



i'm in awe of you, Lord.

jolt

When i'm up late at night (kind of like now...) i like to piddle around on the interent. Re-visiting old xanga entries, stalking old friends (LOL), you know.

But, just around 5 minutes ago i found myself re-reading old myspace messages that i had in my inbox. I came across one that just blew my mind...and for the sake of that persons privacy i won't post it on here because i think he is 1 out of 2 who actually read my blog.

But, back to my "point".

It was deep and affectionate; something i didn't exactly realize when i read it the first time. I wish i would have taken the time to soak it in the first time i opened it back in February.

After reading it, i went ahead and re-read all of the words that this boy and i exchanged. From the start of it to the finish line.

What he had written to me was raw, un-planned, annointed, and actually intellectual. I wish there were more people like that in this world....

I found myself chuckling while reading it, too. Not becuase his thoughts were humorous...but, becuase of how i would handle his thoughts in the future.

now, that doesn't really make a whole lot of sense...but, let me try and explain: I came to the realization that i messed things up. and then i flip it around in my mind and try to blame the other person for how terrible things went...when it was my fault all along.

I was never as real with this person as i wanted to be. So goes all of my relationships with people. I just want to be real. For once! I want other people to wake up at 1:00am and re-read my writings from months ago...and it still mean something to them.

Hi, how can i help you?

the break up

"the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore"

i'll tell you how it began, though i don't remember the exact moment coming became, for me, going. that continuum is ever so fragile.

Oklahoma had a way of romancing me good ...


it's just that you begin to feel temporary when you drink at the same coffee joint for five months. and you can't find a seat anywhere.

no open booths to hug a cup of warm misery and cry, no vacant corners to tuck away and type a revelation or two.

by golly, i'll ask if i can sit with someone, you think. perhaps that fellow in the grey knit scarf cause he looks endearing and reminds me of someone i once knew.

but you don't. you take your tea in a to-go cup and slip out the back door and prepare to fight traffic on memorial road.

and someone else claims the seat.

it's just that you begin to feel temporary when you work at a place for five months. and there are no pictures on your wall.

monday morning and you're staring around a white washed office. counting holes in the paint. proof that other people once thought to hang things on it.

why are there no pictures on my wall? i ought to put a picture up, you think.

but you don't. you go on to write an email to whoseherface and print a copy for whatshisname or daydream about whatchacallit.

and the canvas remains blank.

yet there are no curtains on your windows either.

because as a girl, you're been granted certain rights to a paisley pattern which will shield you from the rest of the world. or a shabby chic material which will prove useful for catching cool southern winds and blinding sunlight.

that anthropology store, why, it's nice...i should buy something the next time i'm online.

but you don't. you get lost instead in a book or pound out a melody in the key of G or sleep until you are tired of rest.

and the windows remain naked.

i suppose you may not be convinced about this break up, this move of mine. have i told you i want to move? i am. but i could go on. cause there have been more things than blank walls, and unclothed windows and crowded coffee joints that have led me to believe okc wasn't meant to be my home.

its like i took up a temporary residence here. temporary. but still necessary. though for the life of me, i cannot yet see how those two things will be reconciled.

if at this point you are given to concern on my behalf, be rest assured that lots of people live this way. abraham had tents. and paul stayed on people's couches. and i have friends who live out of suitcases.


God is watching over our coming and going. and he's said the promised land isn't too much farther, just a lifetime away. and right outside our door. wherever your door is.

easier to say...harder to feel

i miss you more than i should...and i thought i could get my mind off of you.




and i thought being alone would be better than...

war pommery

sometimes life is profound. and sometimes life is boring. and sometimes life is profoundly boring.


it's a thing we call the grind. a thing called working the fields. earning a wage. paying our dues. getting in line. catching the drift.


but some days pose questions and silliness.

yesterday i went to post a comment on my friends blog. without a second thought i began the routine task of typing in the word verification. i stand on my head, adjust my flourescent lighting, tilt my screen at a 40 degree angle north/northwest, tug my ear twice and squint my eyes to read the letters before me ... they (the word verificators) make it nearly impossible.

war pommery

w-a-r p-o-m-what the hells bells am i writing?!?!

this sent me into a nancy drew"ish" frenzy. war pommery. sounds lovely right? sounds like something you rub into your hair to keep it looking nice in case a photo opportunity presents itself in the middle east. sounds like a thing cheerleaders might hold if they were ever asked to enlist.

i decide not to let the investigation end with my supposing.

naturally, i went to the wisest and most credible source available. wikipedia.

Pommery: a French Champagne house located in Reims ... under the guidance of Alexandre's widow, Louise Pommery, the firm was dedicated to Champagne production and soon became one of the region's largest Champagne brands.

war pommery, war by the drink?

war by the bottle?
war by the pack?
war by the dollar?
war by the silence?
war by the tounge?
war by the thought?
war by your pride?
war by your party?(liberal or conservative)
war by your weapon?
war by your doctrine?

i'm reading rob bell's new book, jesus came to save the christians. i'm a sucker for the christian inspiration section, i admit. they'll have a support group for us one day. just you wait, i'll be there every week. my name is allie and i've been stalking c.s. lewis for years...

anyway, this new text is making me think.

i think we are fighting a champaigne wars. money and fame and bling and rights.
leading us to fight a violent wars. militias and forts and bombs and lives.

we babylonians are fighting from the inside out. yet november fourth we will desperately seek salvation from a ceaser living on capitol hill. (?)





in other thoughts,

word verifications are put in place so you will receive feedback or blog comments from real human beings. and not the robot called your computer.

but, frankly, i'm interested to know what a robot would have to say about my post. maybe he or she (to be fair) would add something humorous and intriguing to our dialogue. and would prove my theory that one day machines will come to rule us all. ;)