Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in luke_xl8's LiveJournal:

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Monday, November 30th, 2009
9:12 pm	The right choice still hurts sometimes. Just because we aren't courting doesn't mean we won't still be friends. It hasn't really hit me yet. Well, either it hasn't really hit me yet, or I'm not letting it, or I was never putting enough on the line for the impact to do that much. Whatever. I have to go to fucking work. (Comment on this)
4:53 pm	If I thought anti-depressants helped, maybe i'd go back on them. After all, not having sex atm means not being frustrated by the side effects of the meds. Thing is, they didn't help before. SO I'm just stuck. ...I can never figure out if I'm poking holes in things out of fear, or pointing out valid reasons that it wouldn't work. But I'm forced to recognize that if I AM pointing out valid reasons that it wouldn't work, I'm doing so out of self-protection and the desire not to be hurt or waste time, and as such I'm sort of acting out of fear again. There's something to be said for self-preservation, sure. But I've never put this much effort into something before, never put this much distance and intentional-ness into it. And I recognize that even with all that, I'll be hurt if we don't move forward. Even if it's for a darn good reason. And I think I know where that hurt will carry me. (Comment on this)
Sunday, November 29th, 2009
12:26 pm	One day Sunday. One day a week that she doesn't usually respond to emails in the morning/through mid-day when I go to sleep. One day a week that she's most likely sleeping in, or enjoying her family, or watching movies, or whatever. One day that the woman that isn't even mine yet in any form beyond friendship is a degree of incommunicado that could be breached by a phone call if it were really that important. This is why believing I'm anything but a lost cause and a slimeball is so fucking hard. Because I suddenly realize that it's one day a week that I don't actually know what's going on and immediately my fucking brain hops to the most bizarre conclusions and assumptions, hurling accusations and self-abuse like confetti. What is she doing that she doesn't check her email? Does it fucking matter? She has a life, unlike me. My life is at this desk or in that store. On weekends I try to shove a week's worth of life into a few days, and usually pay for it on monday anyway. I always hoped I wouldn't end up here. Where my job is shit and I hate my day-to-day survival but I can't escape because I'm following the damn dollar signs rather than pursuing what I REALLY want. And this is the cage into which capitalism forces people. To accept slavery to our finances, or to suffer slowly while trying to enjoy ourselves. Life, recreation, dreams, passions, desires, all are cancer to the beast, and it gouges them out slowly or quickly. It can be years of accruing debt, or a car accident that destroys one of the main sponsors of your life. Either way, your ability to LIVE will be hampered, and you will continue to slave until you either build up enough money to cut back (in which, in the vast majority of cases, you have no life left in you, and you seek out modica that seem fitting, like pools in your backyard and expensive TV's and nice flaming shit that you never needed or even wanted to begin with...the IKEA nesting instinct, as a movie called it), or your body finally gives out from the hopeless despair of a pointless life and you are forced to retire, nearly blind and dumb from the repetitious duties you've had to perform in order to get by, in order to pay your bills and keep your stomach full and maybe, just maybe, now and then have a bit of fun to relieve only a fucking SHARD of the tension. I'm never satisfied with my time with her when it ends because it can never be enough. She is something that only makes sense when you remove all question of responsibility, of financial burdens...she, like a few before her, is a source of LIFE to me. And while that's not why I'm with her, it's why I'm discontent when I'm not; why I feel so empty every morning when I get home from work. It's not even her...it's the world in which I have chosen to live. ANd that's what kills me. It's all my fault that I'm here. I chose to quit college, and stay out. I chose to hang out at the YMCA, and then bounce from job to job and life to life following whatever random shit I happened to have dangling in front of me, until finally I landed back home again, even more in debt than I was before and without anything to show for it but memories and scars. ...one scar in particular. I can still find it if I look...and part of me hopes I will forever. A nearby part hopes my children never notice it on their own. I'm not with her for what she represents, or for how I feel when I'm around her. Those words planted now in my head aren't going anywhere, but damned if I'm going to let them win and assert their false "truth" into my heart. I'm going to fight those lies because they are the ones that would hurt her the most. Fuck them. But it is also true that she is an example of what I wish I had every day. She is a source of what I crave, and so I end up craving her more than is possibly healthy. So it is with everyone I've been with, really, and everyone I'll ever be with (though a large and growing part of me hopes she is the only one). [bitterly] God, what answers do you have for this? You didn't create us to toil endlessly towards pointless goals like a bigger TV or a better house or a faster car. You didn't create us to go into debt trying to find ourselves just to end up unable to search while chained to our desks, our cars, our computers, our shelves and cash registers and machines. You created us for something more, and I can't figure out what because I can hardly see the sun anymore. There is so little light in my life thanks to all the choices I've made, and I'm lost and alone and the few times that I find something to cling to, I end up squeezing the life right out of it and then resenting it for not being what I want. She says, and I agree, that to truly be ready for something, you need to be in a place where you don't need it. This is a recurring theme in my life, it seems. I remember it with Mystee, with Jessie. Maybe it's the same with the Followers, too. And I remember each of the times I've moved ahead despite still needing it and it has crashed and burned...twice now, almost taking another person with it. The older I get, the more I understand why only children inherit the kingdom of God. I don't need her. But I want her so badly it's scary. And what's worse is that what I want from her, she can't truly provide. Supposedly, only You can provide that. And I don't know how to get it from you because I don't understand ahead of time how it would come. THAT'S why she seems to have everything together, no matter how accurate that "seems" may be. Because she moved ahead and trusted, and never really stopped trusting, and now she's found that there's a REASON for all this, there's a REASON you call yourself the Life. Because that's what you ARE. One can't be close to You without having Life, and more abundantly, because they can see more than just the world around them like I do. ...like I do. And yet another reason I don't tend to trust you. All the gifts you give carry an equivalent curse. People who are open-hearted and loving end up being torn to shreds, until there's nothing left but doubt, fear, and a deep-seated assurance that no one can see them and no one ever will. People who are strong end up with dozens, maybe hundreds drawing from that strength, leeching it until there's nothing left but a shell of what was once great might. And people who can see the best in people, the beauty in everything and everyone? They see why that beauty doesn't show, they see the scars and the wounds and the pock-marked, hideously disfigured shades looming in the place of what should be stunning and wonderful. I fucking hate this world. And I can't escape it. I'm trapped, I'm imprisoned, and I don't trust You to set me free. I can't let myself trust HER for that either, or it will destroy us. Please, someone...show me the truth. Point out where my reasoning is flawed. I'm almost downright desperate for there to be something I've missed, almost downright desperate to see that there's something worth saving, worth keeping...worth LIVING for in this world. That there's a beauty that hasn't been poisoned. God isn't that beauty...too many of His followers have poisoned His grace, have made a mockery of His gift. Myself most definitely included, in my own way. Truth isn't that beauty, because there is no pure truth in this world anymore. Hey, Shanna, you should continue that story. If there's any light to be had for the dead girl, I want to know. I want to see it. Please. Someone. Give me hope. I'm dying without it, and it's a death I've seen in far too many people. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, November 20th, 2009
1:08 am	"Love has a way of blinding even the sharpest minds. We don't look because we don't want to see. But once love has been stripped away...then we see the real person clearly. They're revealed to us, with all their flaws, their foibles...and their secrets." -Lionel Luthor, "Smallville" season 2 episode 23. This is what I fear with every new relationship I begin. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 18th, 2009
11:42 am	Line from Smallville "Let's just say the Crouching Tiger is about to find her Hidden Dragon." I laughed and cringed when this line was delivered, because the potential innuendo is just so fucking thick. (Comment on this)
Sunday, November 15th, 2009
12:13 pm	Totally random Smallville, season 2, episode 9 (special guest Johnathan Taylor Thomas). The waitress in the Talon in one of the last scenes, I'm about 90% sure is a Transvestite. ...wow. (Comment on this)
Saturday, November 14th, 2009
6:14 am	I'm writing about this no matter what people may think of me...but more importantly, no matter what *I* may think about me. Today I gave a complete stranger a 15-minute ride home, in the opposite direction from where I was going. He was drunk, and probably high (or at least chasing something); he was racist, his story constantly shifting and self-contradicting, and he claimed to have been with three (which became four only a few minutes later) women in the past night (or was it two nights?). He moved here from Cali...wait, from Arizona, near Cali...well, he lived in Cali, and his girlfriend...wait, fiancee... ...you get the idea. Half the time I was certain that where ever he was directing me, there would be a bunch of guys with knives and guns to steal my car, kill me, and dump me somewhere. Half the time I was certain that this guy had absolutely lost touch with reality, be it through alcohol or whatever. The whole time, I had a bible verse going through my head. "As much as you've done it to the least of these, you've done it to me." I gave Jesus a ride home today. What's good tonight? I once asked myself whether this question, which Valarie used to ask as a way of saying "how are you, what's going on" etc., were more than just a question. If I were to develop it into a perspective, where I lived my life seeking and creating some good in the world each and every day. After spending hours in the car arguing with myself about posting this or even telling anyone, I realized that my modesty was tempered by a recent surge in my desire to know me. And damned if this wasn't me at my very normalest. I've lost his name, but I once began giving a stranger a ride all the way across the country, from Iowa to California, while I was trucking. Giving him all the food he wanted and a shower along the way, convincing him to call his parents on my phone to let them know he was ok, and praying for him on a nearly constant basis. Thousand Foot Krutch still sings my prayer; "I wish you well, I wish you well/On this trip to find yourself/I wish you well, wish I could help/But I can't help you find yourself." I still think about him now and then. My life is peppered with instances like this. People I know for one night ("single serving friends"), whom I think about for the rest of my life, wondering where they ended up and if my help made any difference to them. I haven't told anyone about three or four such instances because I worry that telling someone is the same as boasting. That I would be negating any value of my gift to them by claiming to have done it at all. What utter bullshit. I am a good person. And if I ever again need proof, I have plenty of examples that show that even when no one would know, I did more than anyone ever asked. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, November 13th, 2009
4:48 am	Seeing red again So, an episode of Smallville has Clark Kent putting on a ring made of red kryptonite, which drops all his inhibitions and leaves him behaving completely on his passions. And it has me thinking. While it may have become evident almost immediately that it wasn't truly him, the actor playing Clark Kent made it seem so natural, so normal...I was impressed. But I was also a bit intrigued, because I find that I can't even imagine myself in that situation. Acting as my passsions dictate in every situation, following my emotions and my impulses to their fruition whatever it may bring. But wouldn't it be interesting? Just for a day? It goes back to a rather old wish of mine. One day without consequences. One day where nothing I did would carry over to tomorrow. It's an interesting frame of humanity that we always have to deal with the effects of time. We are never free to act as we feel without any concern for tomorrow unless we choose to abandon that concern...and usually, that doesn't end well. Valerie, and perhaps Aubrey, have both observed that I am bound very tightly, that everything I do and everything I say is ruled by a kind of constant monitor. Ropes, tying me down. I have trouble agreeing with them because those ropes keep me safer. Not safe. Safer. I struggle to find the balance, really. Between living as myself and living in sense. It's hard to trust that inhibiting my desires and impulses is always the right thing to do...until I look back later and see that, sure enough, my life would be an utter disaster if I'd followed through. Or at the very least, would be more complicated and unfriendly than necessary. And when life is already a mess, already a struggle, already a chaotic jumble of causality...I guess I don't really know what to think. Red kryptonite freed Clark to ignore the consequences. Soon he had broken at least three hearts and was dangerously close to destroying the lives of everyone around him. I don't have his abilities, his situation, or his relationships. I have my own life, tied down to a job I don't particularly like and finances that never seem to move forward at all. My handful of relationships that, most of them, feel like a constant balancing act between one thing and another and nothing. And to seize one thing is to give up another. Yet another reason why I am concerned that "she" doesn't exist. Even if she did, would I have the courage to reach out and grab it, for fear of losing everything else she could be to me? What if Jessie had not been attracted to me, for instance...our mutual desire complicated our relationship and in a few instances, nearly beached it. What would it have been if I'd simply stayed as friends? Where would I be now? What if I'd abandoned my inhibitions? The universe is a complete mess of causality...the lines and trains of cause vs effect are all that rule the form and function of what we call life. Everything I do has some consequence. I am bound. But I choose those bindings because I recognize that I am always looking either back or forward. Rarely down. Or up for that matter. I'm always planning or fearing for the future, or I'm rebuilding or trying to learn from the past. My lessons rarely land where they should. This is a pointless journal entry. Because there is no amount of analysis that could convince me of anything but the VALUE of my bindings. (Comment on this)
Monday, October 26th, 2009
12:28 pm	Just read this. http://bash.org/?111338 I'm crying, the laughter is teh hard. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 20th, 2009
1:13 pm	I believe I am hopeless. I believe I am a lost cause. I believe nothing can save me from myself. I believe only His sacrifice saves me from hell after death, but that I'm in many ways there already. I believe I am powerless to change others when I can't change myself. I believe I have no one close enough to help me out of this pit. I believe I can't let anyone get close enough because I don't even know who I am to get close to. I almost believe I am not. That who I truly am no longer exists, buried under years of attempted redefinitions and reviews and redefinitions. I almost believe that there is no purpose left to my existence, except to reduce the pain that my death would cause to others. I believe that I have tried to cry out, lost and empty, for Him to find me and fill me up, and that it has never truly worked. I believe that I have never fully committed to anything except indecision. And I believe I may never be able to invest and love "her" as is necessary for the relationship of my dreams. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, September 12th, 2009
4:24 pm	Voices I've come to realize that perhaps, my tendency to think myself into circles isn't entirely my fault. ...ok, so that's a horrible way to say it. But is it better to say that there are voices in my head? Still, this is the most accurate representation. The image that best suits it is that I am seated on a chair. To my left, there is a person in dark clothing, hair slightly darker than mine, who resembles me rather nearly. He constantly voices his negative opinion of himself which, being a part of me, is in effect a voice of my self-hatred issues over the years. Behind me...it's hard to tell. These voices are quieter most of the time, almost like white noise. Sometimes it seems there are two, sometimes just one, and they haven't said anything audibly specific yet. To my right is another person, though he has no physical description. Haven't really looked at him yet, since he's often been credited as my own thoughts. He doesn't say anything nearly so consistent, but rather speaks as a voice of removal from the world. He analyzes every input and provides a distant, almost psychiatric evaluation, not only of the actions/words of others but of my own as well. The problem with him talking in my ear, is that I tend to listen more to him than to what is actually BEING said or done. Even in moments when I am trying to just relax and "be," still he voices his doubts as to whether there is value in such an activity. This is the one that is, these days, most irritating. See, I've wrestled with my self-worth all my life. I'm used to that fight. And these days I rather like who I am, who I see in the mirror. I love myself, not in a narcissistic way, but in a healthy way. It's the other voice, the removal, that is making things hard, because it's fairly often that I listen more to it, and step back from events, making them scientific instead of personal. And when that happens in, say, a relationship... Well, suffice to say it doesn't end well. In the moment, or in the long run. The next step, I think, would be isolating these voices, relating to them, and finding out why they exist. This shouldn't be too difficult...it's just not something I can do by myself without likely falling deeper into it. I also admit that I don't really know what the next step truly is; I merely have an idea. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 9th, 2009
11:59 am	My greatest sin was not telling her the whole truth. What were my reasons? Do reasons affect it? Were I being Spoken, yes, they would. They are a side of the truth, but only a side. So they merit mention, though i do not hide behind them. I knew that the whole truth would hurt her. I knew that the whole truth would insert walls between us. I knew that the whole truth would poke her wounds and scare her away, or infuriate her so much that she couldn't see me anymore. But these reasons all have one thing in common: a lack of trust. While she had not earned that trust, it was regardless absent. I didn't trust that she would take the whole truth correctly. So I hid parts of it. And even what I told her proved my doubts right. She got angry at the little I told her, which wasn't even the worst of it. She got defensive at the partial truth, when the whole truth would likely have impaled her entirely. This was my sin. I didn't tell her the truth. May God forgive me for it. Her greatest sin was cheating on me. I forgave her that same night, and no longer hardly remember that it happened (and certainly don't hold it against her). I don't even hold my forgiveness against her. Again, in the interest of the whole truth, I mention it as a side of the story. One she probably wouldn't tell. Our sins, as a couple, have been many. What hurts the most is that I see mine, and beg her forgiveness for them. And she gets more upset, claiming that I am "turning things around on her." But in the end, I am loving her the best I know how, every step of the way that I can manage. Before, I clung to her, afraid that she would leave. Now, I let her go, almost certain that she will. And all I can hope is that His will shall be done when I finally give Him permission to do it. And it hurts. And that's ok. I love myself, if only because I am trying. She may never see the value of what I've done with the other, out of jealousy and bitterness that even in her fights with me, the other still received praise and encouragement. She doesn't realize that she would get twice the praise and twice the encouragement, and indeed already has. She loves me, and her love terrifies her. I love her, and her passion terrifies me. But now, I love her enough to let her go, to tell her all the truth as best I can tell it. Now, when she has finally stopped trusting me. My sin was the greater. To quote Paul, "I am the worst of all sinners." And I love myself. (Comment on this)
Monday, August 24th, 2009
1:32 pm	Holy crap I... I love myself. ...I love MYSELF. ...whoa. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, August 20th, 2009
8:14 am	Betrayal and forgiveness So, I'm not going into the details here, because it's extremely personal and frankly, no one's business but those I choose to tell individually. Suffice to say, I was betrayed very deeply by someone I trusted quite a bit last night. And I forgave. Only a few hours after finding out that one of my deepest fears had been completely realized, I forgave. There is a remarkable power in forgiveness. A freedom. Sure, there's still pain, but for right now, that pain is gone, that frustration abated, that anger soothed. And when it comes back up i can simply remind myself that it is done, gone, erased. And each time, I can release it all. It really helped me understand God, actually. As pompous as that sounds. it's true though. God placed a piece of Himself into each of us, and we can learn about ourselves and about Him by living from that piece. Note: not studying. Living from. Studying may be important to learn how to live, but then it must be DONE. Forgiving someone gave me an insight into my own forgiveness. I did not deserve it, but I was worth it. Did not deserve it, but I was worth it. I love that phrase. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 5th, 2009
10:06 am	Sometimes I wish I could break up with everyone I'm interested in before I start dating them. It's fascinating how much more clearly I see people when I'm not longer trying to be the best boyfriend/Dom/what-the-fuck-ever I can be. When I'm not trying to impress them, spoil them...keep them. When I'm being myself. Then again, maybe that's precisely what makes love/romance/dating/etc so powerful and moving; I can break free from this slimeball jackass that I am and be GOOD to someone without feeling guilty. Cuz every time I try to be good to someone I'm not dating, I get too attached or screw it up somehow, and just end up making things worse. All this...and I'm supposed to be some kind of leader? I preached a bit to myself last night. I said...if I can remember...screw it, I'll paraphrase. Parapreach? Jesus paid the price for us so that we could all be included. The freedom He gave us is the freedom to live our lives no matter what we have done, no matter what we will do...to give Him our all, and have no fear or frustration or disappointment in ourselves over our failures. Where is that freedom? Where is the freedom from judgement, from failure, from opinion...why don't we live with that freedom? Why don't we live the lives to which we are now entitled--lives where we no longer need to do everything right in order to do His work or be His children? It's glorious hype, it really is. And it's strange that it should come from the mouth of someone who has decided, for another day, not to pursue his "calling" out of a combination of self-hatred and fear. Fear of rejection from the people he is trying to support, and self-hatred for being a complete and total hypocrite to someone who was once very dear to him, yet again, for the millionth god damn time. I hate myself more than I usually care to express, and just because I don't vent it or express it or even accept it anymore doesn't mean it isn't still there. I've fought hard over the past couple years to take the edge off, and I've succeeded in dulling the pain and then redirecting it to other people. I lecture my friends about self-worth because I can relate too well to the fact that they have little...because *I* have little value in MYself. And when they don't stop their self-destructive behavior and turn their lives around I get angry and end up almost yelling at them, all in the name of helping them. I am powerless to protect the people I care about, which to some degree is everyone on the planet. I am powerless to defend those who are vulnerable, to heal those who are broken, and to strengthen those who are weak. And it is that powerlessness more than anything else that sparks the inferno that usually just burns my friends instead of warming them. I mean to help, but if this is what results, maybe I should just give up. At least then I'd stop hurting people. At least then I'd stop making an ass of myself and making a mockery of Him. ...maybe then He could actually step forward and do something through someone that actually gives a shit. Or enough of one to live for Him rather than for Himself. Work through someone who is strong enough to support, wise enough to heal, caring enough to love with tenderness and mercy rather than strictness and abuse. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, July 29th, 2009
10:20 am	Gym, day 1 So, today was my first day at the gym where I just started a new membership. I did mostly cardio, a lot of jogging and walking and such. Did some punching on the heavy bag, more for the stress relief than anything. Then did a few runs on the climbing wall. My wrists are still twitching a bit, and my hands are getting slowly stable enough to do stuff on the computer. I feel fairly accomplished. I mean, I did it. I actually stepped out and exercised, for a decent while too. And while I'm likely to take tomorrow off, try to do kind of a "day on, day off" thing rather than daily, at least for a while, I will also be adding swimming to the list of things I do each day...supporting the cardio focus I have, which is mostly for Dag, to be honest. SO yeah. On top of the gym, I've also been having salad for most of my lunch breaks this week...and plan to continue doing so, while also keeping my eyes open for other healthier options. Long story short, I'm on a health kick lately. Short story long? ANything by Dickens. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, July 28th, 2009
8:44 am	Random thought It occurs to me that a lot of my issues in dag, in what little parkour I've attempted, in...a lot of things, is that I always hesitate. I dont commit. I'm afraid. But without jumping to Eldredge's theories, wherein giving my all and finding that it's not enough is the core fear, I don't actually know why. And without knowing the cause, I am not sure how to find the treatment. My first thought is to put myself in positions where I can't easily escape, where it's give all or go home..but I can't think of any, and I'm not sure that putting more black and white in my life is the answer. (Comment on this)
Saturday, July 25th, 2009
6:36 am	It's official Revolutionary Road is the world's most depressing movie, possibly ever. (Comment on this)
Friday, July 24th, 2009
1:22 am	The Gifts of God A man came into the store the other night, wasted. The smell of fairly cheap alcohol was obvious on his breath, in his walk, in his tone...everything. Alcoholic, pot-head, and self-professed as such. But it's been a long time since I heard someone preach and pray with the kind of authority he had. ...then, two days later. TWO DAYS. He comes back in, remembering me but forgetting that we had the conversation at all. Drunk again, wandering, aimless... And I thought to myself, the thing that I admired most about him, is now just two days later, the thing I despise most. He admitted to struggling with alcohol, but he was confident in his salvation and in the value of the Word and of the Cross. He knew what he believed and knew that he was God's child. Beloved son. It was beautiful, as filthy as it was spoken with a breath of whiskey. He knew that there was more to life, more to God, than being perfect. Knew that something was deeper, more important. That it was not about being in right actions, but being in right heart. Two days later his testimony's value was almost completely lost, because I found that the importance I had placed in his testimony was still wrong. That saying he was still powerful and an excellent witness to the inclusiveness of the Kingdom wasn't enough. Developing a growing relationship with your family, with... Is this unreasonable of me? Is it wrong to say that forgetting the 45 minute sermon he shared with me about the love and acceptance of God...that it's largely lost when only two days later he couldn't remember giving it? Couldn't even FUCKING REMEMBER that I was a christian at all? I'm not a christian cuz it makes me feel good. I'm not a christian because I have an obligation to God, or feel that He has one to me. I'm sure as fuck not a christian because I have my life in order, or as a way of getting it in order. I'm a christian because in the end, it's the only hope I can find. The only thing that combines an explanation for the world's complete and utter broken shitty chaos with a chance that things will ever get better. Because it's the only thing that even suggests that there's jack shit I can do to help...and that, only by being willing and by trying to follow. He says He'll bless our efforts if our hearts and desires are right. My heart for people and for the world is unmistakable. It's just broken, too. And that's what I can still admire about this guy. Drunk, drugged, and forgetting things from two days ago...still, he would have given me another sermon had I not mentioned that we'd had the conversation already. I'm sure of that. And I admire it. I admire that it wasn't just a passing fancy; it was a lifestyle. It was a belief, solid and firm. Faith. Faith that, in the end, has value by its own definition. And the unreliability of the person delivering the message does NOT negate the message. I have to remember that. Or my last pieces of hope may fade, and my faith may be completely lost. No one deserves to preach His name. No one deserves to pray at His feet. There is none righteous. All have sinned and continuously fall short of the glory of God, the standard we cannot hope to obtain. But the GIFT of God is salvation. The GIFT of righteousness. The GIFT of authority. We are not entitled to jack shit. We are not entitled to go on mission trips and tell other people what to believe, be those mission trips to foreign countries or foreign homes. We are not entitled to say that God is listening to us. We have nothing to do with it. I'm beginning to feel that American christians are the worst christians in the world...and will be until we shake the sense of entitlement that our culture inculcates in us. We're flooded with "you deserve this" from our first day of exposure. It's like a radiation, infecting a cancer in us almost from birth. And so we start to believe that we have a right to pray. We have the right to preach. We have the right to say that others are wrong and we are right, even when we say things that go directly AGAINST the Word...or at least, against its original intentions. I am worthless. This I am growing to believe, in the most pure and accurate way possible. I am worthless because on my own, I have never been able to do anything. Why He has ever blessed my efforts when my eyes weren't on Him, I don't know. Maybe to keep me from forgetting that He's there and that He cares, because without that nurturing, I wouldn't likely believe in Him at all. And I've written stories about the kind of man I'd be; they end just as they begin, in utter shit, broken and doing all he can to break those around him. Hell, I do that now, even still, and I know I'm His. If He is who He has claimed to be, I am His. If not, we're all pretty much screwed anyway, so it doesn't much matter what else He might be. We can only trust Him to be everything He says He is, or we cannot trust Him to be anything He claims. (Comment on this)
Saturday, July 18th, 2009
7:39 am	It's started So, whenever I let work take over my life, I always begin to get very depressed after a while. I find that my motivation to be responsible drops like a rock, and I don't feel like doing anything good for myself. I spend time I don't have doing things that aren't really restful (but are enjoyable), depriving myself of sleep I need fairly badly, and end up being just a grumpy sourpuss because I feel like I have no choice but to keep chaining myself to my schedule and giving up the things I actually want to do. Ready for the fun part? Cuz here's the fun part. One side effect of this whole cycle is that I often can't actually DO the things I want to do, or I don't enjoy them anymore, because I'm so tired from stretching myself trying to do them. Take today for example. There's a Dag practice in...6 hours or so. I haven't slept more than eight hours since I got off work thursday morning. I'm still up because I can't seem to tear myself away from my computer, from Starcraft, from being awake and doing stuff...even if it's nothing productive whatsoever. I just feel like when my week starts back up, it'll be work sleep work sleep work sleep work sleep work sleep like always. That I won't have a chance during the week to play at all. To have fun. To relax. And I'm so stressed about my schedule that the relaxation I try to squeeze in makes me feel guilty and beat myself up because I should be sleeping right now so I can get through work tonight so I can come home and sleep and then wake up and go back to work again and... I don't know if it's my schedule, my depression, or my age, but it seems like I never get enough sleep to feel rested. ...well, maybe once a week, when I crash around 8 or 9 and don't wake up until that evening when it's time to go to work. Literally, work sleep work. I HATE those days, but they are the only way I have to feel like I actually rested during my sleep. I hate them because they leave me with no time to play games, catch/keep up on Kingdom of Loathing, or (and here's the really buggy one) pursue any of my dreams or ambitions. I haven't done anything more on the swords I prepped since I cut the flats, the day I decided the length of each and cut the cores. I have four cores and eight flats. The damn things aren't even dap'ed on. I just feel no motivation because it seems like any time I spend on that could be better spent doing something fun. So I hunt for that something and end up finding things that are fun enough to qualify, but not to satisfy. I hate being insatiable. Insatiable sex drive, insatiable sadism, insatiable desire for fun, insatiable desire for companionship, for control, for a future, for purpose, for meaning, for fighting, for...for chocolate even. I'm lucky my metabolism is so insane; I'd be one fat son of a gun by now if all my junk food intake caught up with me. I had planned, originally, to have at least one sword done and ready for practice today. I haven't cut the blades or anything. How the hell do I escape this without sacrificing my paychecks and the hope I have for getting out of debt before I'm 30? Do I just do as Carole did, and resign myself to a period where I won't actually enjoy my life, but I'll get things in line to do so later? How well is THAT working out for her? I don't want to become a workaholic. And I'm pretty sure there's no danger of that, since I'm angsty about the fact that I work so much. But I worry that if I don't do SOMETHING, I'll start viewing excessive hours at work and a job that devours my life as a natural part of things. So here I am. I'm starting to sabotage myself because I am trying so hard to fit my life into my life. Or at least some semblance. I'm wearing myself out because I'm getting worn out. It isn't a break from work I need. It isn't a vacation. It's a job where I can live AND work AND sleep. ...and, preferably, make enough to make progress. (3 Comments |Comment on this)