I don't think I can watch sad movies by myself anymore. I watched 'The Fountain' which was an excellent film, in my opinion, and had a wonderful twisted, imaginative, heart-wrenching plot. After watching it, I promptly had a nervous breakdown, but somehow managed to peel myself off the floor and get to the piano, working through a Chopin Ballade I've been picking at. By the time I was through, I had stopped crying and the nerves in my face had stopped tingling.

Something about having to comfort myself through all of these times makes me innately angry. At one point I was so upset I considered moving back in with my parents, which of course, is crazy talk. They are the least comforting people on the face of the planet. It would make way more sense to have my brother move in with me. But they would never allow it.

do you ever feel that crushing, nagging sense of defeat?



...yeah, me too.


my mom has an esophageal hernia and she's throwing a party. those are two separate thoughts...

Whoa

I came home from church and slept for 4 and a half hours. I feel so fuzzy, man.

And I'm not even hungry, but I dreamed I was eating with my family at McDonalds. Which is really weird.

Boom

The Creationist
Songwriters: Chambers, Guy; Koiv, Kerli;

This is an old and funny poem
I accidentally overheard
It keeps the little children playing
And bigger children spread the word
My memory is bad
So I always tend to forget how it goes but

Life is my creation, is my best friend
Imagination is my defense
And I'll keep walking when skies are gray
Whatever happens was meant that way

You're no better or no worse than the others
We are all the same
And life is just a moment
You might as well enjoy this day
It's time to start believing
Everything you want is on it's way and

Life is my creation, is my best friend
Imagination is my defense
And I'll keep walking when skies are gray
Whatever happens was meant that way

We'll be growing, into knowing
While we're flowing
Keep on going

Life is my creation, is my best friend
Imagination is my defense
And I'll keep walking when skies are gray
Whatever happens was meant that way
I'm a creationist, oh, I'm a creationist

This is an old and funny poem
I accidentally overheard.

Oops. I did some doodles. Haha. And this is one doodle that can't be undid, homeskillet. I can't believe I just quoted Juno. Something is obviously wrong with me.

I like the painting, too. I think I might give it to my piano student after she graduates and moves away. I dunno. It just kinda popped into my head today while I was teaching her.

*Sigh* I still need to decide what I'm going to do this summer. I've put off praying about it, but pretty soon meetings will start up about the next mission trip to the Philippines. And I told my grandma that I'd call her this month about going to visit them for the first time in forever. The month is almost over... and I still don't know what I want to do. Or what I should do. Part of me feels like I have to go to the Philippines because I promised people I would come back in the summer. But in my heart, I'm not sure I want to go. I mean, if I'm going just to make people happy and not because that's where God wants me to go... then it kind of defeats the purpose. And I've still got to find time to get my taxes filed; I had to pay a lot of money last year. I'm not sure I'd be able to afford a big trip. But I really feel like I need to leave the country at least for a little while, again. I mean, I might as well, I have my passport and all.

Maybe I just need to chew on it.

: eltiT

I am really glad I am halfway through my week. I don't think I can take much more of this getting up early thing.

My mom told me today was Ash Wednesday, and this is the first year that I've been completely oblivious to it. Like it's been a while since I've participated, but I've never been totally disconnected from it. There's always been at least some person or other who crossed my path, proudly donning the ashes of humility on their forehead like I used to do.

Quite a paradox there, isn't it?

Kind of like how the people I end up getting the closest to are the ones that live the furthest away from me. At any rate, it is very nice to have someone to talk to every day, other than myself, the walls, and my cats.

Dear Diary,

Last night I played flag football for the first time in my life. We played in the dark with nerf guns. It was awesome. I took on the role of guardian rather than hunter, and I was surprisingly good at it. There's something about hiding and sneaking at the dark that's very attractive to me; I'm beginning to understand why so many of my family members [I believe the current count is seven] are in or have served their time in the military.

There's also something very important which I am refusing to blog about, because I am so sick of hearing about it. And that is all I will say about that.

~toodles~

Dear Diary,

I had a fun phone conversation today. And by fun I mean awful.

Mom: So what are you doing for New Years?

Me: A bunch of the singles from my church are going to play some wii and board games at the church. We'll have finger foods and drinks.

Mom: How did you get permission to use the church?

Me: I called and asked. They said it was ok as long as we leave everything the way we found it, which shouldn't be a problem.

Mom: So you're the one who got the idea?

Me: Well, some other people had the idea, but they weren't doing anything.

Mom: I was just calling to ask because you never call us. And you weren't born from a dog. We're in town. I was thinking that maybe you would spend the New Year with us.

Me: Wait a minute, that's not the case. I do call you guys. But when I call you don't answer the phone. Of you're too busy. Or you're driving somewhere.

Mom: Oh, well. You better do something with those single people. Make sure that one hurries up and marries you. Poor thing, with your tragic life living all alone.

*silence*

I had never talked to my mom about that. I never told her that was a sore spot for me, and she never would have known it by talking to me or seeing me. But she sure knows how to kill little pieces of my heart and self-esteem. I never talk to her about relationship issues because she's never much help. All through college the extent of her help was: "You're not in college to make friends. Don't talk to people." And whenever I actually started dating the three rules were:

1. Convert him to Catholicism [imagine her outrage when I left the church for an unobstructed relationship with Christ!]
   
2. Don't let him put a hand on you [well that rules out holding hands, hugging, and shaking hands!]
3. Get married as soon as possible

These guidelines were also not so much help. So I had to learn the hard way- by screwing up big time. I now understand a great deal about relationships and the differences between men and women. I also understand that I'm not the most desirable mate out there, commitment scares men in my generation who were practically raised on divorce, and there are more women than there are men. So, frustratedly single I remain. Being slapped in the face with it by my mother on yet another holiday where I'm spending most of my time alone and borrowing other people as my pretend family... not so cool.

Dear Diary,

Today has been fairly productive. This time I went to bed before 4am and woke up before 2pm. This is quite an accomplishment for me. I must admit, I have gotten rather addicted to Gaia's new mmorpg called ZOMG. I know, I know. It sounds like total kid stuff. It is. It's the candy version of WOW or Final Fantasy. Yes. I am a childish dork. Somehow the contrast to my constant focus on performance standards, technique, repertoire, genres, form, harmonic progression, chordal analysis, compositional technique, rhythmic patterns, and the ilk is extremely appealing. I think that's part of the reason I blog so much. Meh.

Anyway, as I was saying, today was productive. I went with my church choir to sing some Christmas music downtown at the city market. My home is such an artsy place that's so appreciative of music, theater, and visual arts. We performed/worshiped [we sang both sacred and secular songs] just across the road from an awesome art gallery. My dad, who's an art teacher, and brother popped by and we all went in the gallery to look around before the concert. It was awesome. I just love art. I love to stare at it, read about it, think about it, let it fill me.

The very first pieces I came across used bits of actual sheet music; so I got up close and started singing the songs. They were all popular love songs. The colors that particular artist used got me all fired up- really strong blues and greens and nice, thick, bold black outlines.

The next artist's section had a wonderfully ancient, abused looking journal hanging on the wall by his pieces with a worn out pen. By it, there was an explanation, along with his artist's statement [riddled with grammatical errors that made me wince.] The idea, however, was quite lovely. He was collecting visitor's dreams to include in his art pieces. I was completely fascinated. So I took the pen, and scribbled down one of my very disturbing nightmares that haunt and follow me like memories for years on end. I chose a fairly short one on cannibalism. I wonder what kind of piece it will live in some day.



Another artist's pieces really captured my attention; they used mixed media to reflect americana ideals. The rusted, twisted, grotesque caricatures were just so compelling. I was enraptured.

The final piece that caught my attention was a rather large ink and canvas drawing with anime style faces, but they seemed tesselated somehow. They filled every single space of the canvas, even upon the sides. I also remember there was a painting right to the left of it that had a wonderfully thick, shiny, transparent laquor over it that made me want to touch it. However, the colors and shapes were unappealing to me, and it was literally too far over my head to touch. Too bad I can't show you pictures, but that would probably be an infringement on the artists' rights- and I know for a fact that our local artists are already poor enough as it is, despite the massive amount of talent and ingenuity they possess.

Well, the concert turned out rather nicely. I was ecstatic that my father and brother came because my family is Catholic and doesn't really like the fact that I am now "Protestant". I got to introduce them to the woman who took me to the ER on Sunday when I had kidney stones; she staid with me the whole time and helped me a ton because she's a pharmacist and knew all the doctors. That chic also has an amazing voice; it's crazy. Well she sang some solos, and I sang a solo in a really cute song called "Parade of the Wooden Soldiers." The solo was written for a child, but since I am small and look extremely young, the choir director figured I could do it. It was so much fun! I put my hair in two braids just for the occasion. The wonderful news, though, is that my family really liked the music. I just know that will be a testimony in their hearts that not all Protestants are evil. Maybe one day they will understands and accept me again. Who knows?

All I know is I have GOT to sing. Every piece of my DNA was made to sing my soul out for Christ, and God called me to this particular church, not because it's Catholic or Protestant, or black or white, or rich or poor, but because He knew that this place would put me to proper use and help me fulfill my purpose.

I suppose this entry is long enough.



Farewell,

Dear Diary,

I'm going to use this post to unload my pithy, superficial, inconsequential teenage anxt, which is funny because it's been quite some time since I was actually classified as a teen. They are an odd species, though, aren't they?

• With their: zomg r u 4 srs? no wei. k thx baiz. lolz. rofl. ttyl.
• And their: h3ll0 do u th1nk 1 am cut3?
• And their: hAHa haAH. omg. u r 4 WeirD. DOn'T u thINk ANymoRE?
• And their: emo kid! preppy kid! band nerd! choir nerd! goth chic! noob. sheez.
• And, my ultimate pet peeve, their: zomg Miley Cirus is so awesome *high pitched squeal* and i'm totally going to marry ALL the jonas brothers AND Edward Cullen even though he's a fictional character who is the SPAWN OF SATAN. And OH, EM, GEE, i'm totally gonna have Hugh Jackman's babies even though he's old enough to be my friggin grandfather. Jay Kay.

American teens are weird. But I rant. This post is going to be all of the anxt, none of the teen.




I live in an apartment all by myself with two male cats. One is fixed, and the other pees all over everything, but there's nothing I can do about it now because I spend all my money on bills and the doctor. And I'm a teacher so I'm poor. But at least I have a job. Praise God for that.

Today I visited my family, which can be anything from a wonderful experience to the worst torture in my life, depending on my mother's mood. On the one hand it was wonderful because I got free food, some much needed clothes [also for free which is great because I HATE shopping], and other random items. The downside was listening to my mother's Spanglish insults, bashing my appearance, my apartment, telling me to throw away my cats and cut my hair. I tell her that both of my cats were rescued from the street and it would be unethical, at best, to just toss them aside; I also remind her I'm growing out my hair for Locks of Love and will be getting it cut to donate in the summer. She hesitates for a millisecond, nods, and then begins the argument from the very beginning, as though my justifications and explications had never even happened. Talking with her always goes a little something like this:

Anyway, driving home was great because I got to see the wonderful full moon all the way home. I was half tempted to drive out to the beach tonight and just stare at it. However, I decided it would be too cold, and being a single female all alone out there in the dark with drunks coming in and out would probably not be the best idea. Then I thought of calling him and seeing if he wanted to go with me, but I was afraid it would be perceived as too romantic, and I didn't want that to chase him off. I did text him on the way home, though, and he called me back because he hates texting. He told me he wanted to hang out with me and work on some more music, but he's been working at the ports and will be going out of town in a few weeks with family for the holidays, and I'm working like a dog all next week... so there probably won't be a time for us to meet up again until next year. Ha, sounds so far away, doesn't it? By then our band should be meeting back up and working on our pieces, so it shouldn't be too bad. He said he'd call me tomorrow; we'll see if that holds true. From my experience, men have a different sense of time than women, and oftentimes don't find a priority in calling people back or keeping their promises, i.e. overcommitting themselves. Or maybe it's just a regional thing. Who knows?

At any rate, the beach would have been nice. Especially tonight.

Maybe next time. Or next year. Or next decade. Oy vei. The drunks in my neighborhood have settled down their obnoxious yelling, so it must be time for bed.

Sincerely,

Dear Diary,

My father has pneumonia.



~that is all~

Dear Diary,

It's 2am, and I was thirsty again, so I'm up. Second time this week.

Last night we ended up talking for a really long time. My mom told me to invite him over for Thanksgiving. He wants me and my family to meet his family. This is all really awkward.

He asked me to be patient with him, spiritually, as he's struggling with just surviving and wanting to go deeper in his walk. He said it gives him trouble to committing to things. He said it's always good to talk to me. But the more I talk to him, the deeper I fall for him, and we're just friends possibly forever to remain just so.

Must pull heart out of shark-infested waters...

I know he's looking for someone to just listen and not judge, someone to counsel and encourage, but he's not ready for a mate. I'm all that first stuff, but I'm in dire need of the second. But every time I draw back, he starts to wither away. His reaction is to try to spend time with me or call me; it's his way of calling for help. Still trying to figure out whether I am discipling him [or if I'm even in a position to as he knows more Scripture than I do] or if he is courting me. Agape love is and has been easily and egalitarian expressed towards all the 'brothers and sisters' or as a 'sister in Christ', but the deep-seated romantic love is far more dangerous. If it is nursed at all, it is in a dark cave far within the secret place which may or may never open to me.

But he asked me to be patient, and it's not like anything else interesting is going on in my life, so I'm willing to sit here and fish for his heart.

~Merienda

Dear Diary,

Well, he didn't come and he didn't call. Probably because his phone is either off or dead. Know how I know that? Stupid me called him. At least I wasn't desperate enough to leave a message this time.

Whatever.

It's funny how the little choices we make can completely alter our lives. I decided to stay up and go online [as in chat] on facebook as opposed to being incognito and going to bed early. Well let me tell you, first I got into some drama with one of my friends being upset at a church decision and then I was talking to the church leader who made the decision and it was...awkward and tense. It all worked out, though, because the leader told me how to handle the situation and my friend will possibly have another means of getting what they wanted. And hopefully, in the process, my friend will mature and discover God's will.

How's that for vague?

While that was going on, I got to minister to another friend of mine who is a teacher, like me. She was really stressing out, and the Spirit put words into my fingertips and a song into my mouth that I think helped encourage her. I pray everything goes well with her tomorrow, and more than anything, that she does NOT STRESS!

The best part, of all, however, was my aunt whom I've never met in person decided to chat with me. She kept asking me when I will visit them so I can meet her. The problem is that, like a lot of my family, they live in Puerto Rico. And I...well, I don't. I don't speak Spanish fluently, I don't get the culture, traveling that far all by myself totally freaks me out, and it's expensive. She loves music, though, and she is really pretty awesome. She told me I'm a lot like my uncle, her husband, and that we definitely inherited a lot of traits from my grandfather. It all made me cry a ton. She's the first family member who's actually wanted to know anything about me, really. With every other person I've had to reach out, but she really wanted to know me and it made me feel loved. She also told me that she heard my song 'Sparrow' that I posted and she liked it.

I think I need to visit there this summer. I haven't been to Puerto Rico in fourteen years, and I feel like God keeps trying to call me home...

Voy a mi patria,
Borinquen

Dear Diary,

I know, long time no talk, right?

Well I just got done talking with my friends in the Philippines. It was really cool just being able to see them again, and really awkward again like I knew it would be. Since tonight is a time change, we're going to be thirteen hours apart from them until the spring time. That's super confusing.

It was awesome, though. We even got to sing with them. Right now they're getting ready for church. We're getting ready for bed. Crazy.

One of the pastors really hit home for me tonight, though. He asked where my mom was and said that they were all praying for her that she would become a sister in Christ with us someday. That really touched me very deeply. Then he told me that I was beautiful. I didn't know what to say. I've been struggling with my self image for a very, very long time and recently it's been especially hard. The Spirit totally used him to comfort me, and I really needed it.

My brother is on the phone with me now. His voice makes me want to tune out. I guess I am tuning out if I'm typing to you instead of listening to him. Heh. I'm not good at this whole paying attention thing anyway.

And we're talking about politics now. This is the first year he's ever gotten a chance to vote. I don't vote anymore. I refuse to waste my life supporting a lie that my vote actually chooses a president. The electoral college does that. I refuse to be another gullible American. The election is a bunch of crock and it has always been that way. Besides, the president doesn't have as much power as they lead us to believe. Congress has control. There's only so much one human being can do. I'm sick of being led by a country full of young, stupid, blind, crass, impulsive, empty-headed human beings who are passionately uninformed and committed to being brazen, argumentative, abusive, inflammatory, and lazy. There's a reason we keep changing presidents but nothing ever gets better.

And that's my rant for the night.

So long, cow poke,
La Habanera