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| Where's Jimi or John When I Need Them?
One more scale, mister guitarist
If you've got it in you
Give me something I can hold
Something I can fly with
Mister guitarist, should I take a hold of this instrument
Or wait to see if you've got something else to play?
Are you going to bring out the luthier* in you,
And make me an axe?
Or did you already make it
And I'm leaving it in the corner
Or should I just learn to go
Acapella
Whatever it is, I know it isn't the focus
In the same way
No man is an entire band
My guitar hands are not the focus
But rather, my voice
Whether I look to the instrument
Or the audience
When I sing
Mister guitarist, my fingers are killing me
This current action* just isn't working
And I'm hoping you'll do something quick
Cast a light on my instrument of the moment,
Or cast a light to me
So that I know I've got a solo coming up
*A luthier is a man who makes and/or works on guitars.
*Action
is the distance between the strings of a guitar and the fretboard. A
"high action" is painful for most guitarists because they're pushing
down harder to achieve a note.
A Zoo and a Room of Corners
Lately I've been far too grounded
And lately I've found myself walking in circles
In rooms with nothing but corners
How I do such a thing, I'm not sure
But I'm not self-impressed
More self-depressed
But I wish that I could be
Self-expressed
When I know that I should just be
Completely
Self-repressed
And yet that's not what I'm finding
That's not where I'm going
The sheep inside of me
Is terrified of the lion
And the snake inside of me
Who has been crushed under a heel
Seems to shake in a post-mortem dance
His rattle is going on in my mind
Sleep is impossible
When the sheep won't shut up
And the snake won't stop shaking
Delirium or All I See Is Gray or The Rainbow of Emotion (Got a suggestion for which title to keep? Comment it!)
When did the colors change?
Oh, how the hues have an expanded range
Never did I know that red could be found in so many a place
Or that white could bring the image of your face
Green seems to be flaring in my eyes
But I suspect that's merely blue wearing a disguise
And you would never guess what would bring yellow
Nothing more impressive than your voice saying, "Hello"
Sometimes I wish I were colorblind, then I could say
For all that is there and all that it means, all I see is gray
My Roommate and Me
There's a room that everyone has seen
But few have entered
And only another man and me
Have bothered to stay
It's a room of darkness and light
Of colors and pain and delight
Where every angle is leading to the next
But pointing to where it all began.
A single board
Built on since then
To make this room I know so well
There are cobwebs in this room
In most of the corners and on some of the walls
And marks along the floor
Where I've paced and retraced
The issues that I've faced and refaced
Never finding quiet
The room is in a noisy neighborhood
Where people come and go
Making a racket as they do
You'd think they're carrying jackhammers
The way they chip on the outside of my walls
Paintings line the walls of my room
Some brilliant
Some silly
Some dark
Some crazy
And every day I look them over
And every day I consider
Whether they are pieces of art
Or merely wastes of paint
Wastes of paint...
In my room is a guitar
The strings are all tuned wrong
The neck is bowed and the board is chipped
And body of my guitar is warped
I don't let others in much
Though there's a door
I've painted time and time before
Those who've come in the past
Have all left a mess
Both in my room
And in themselves There are cigarette burns in the furniture
And alcohol spills in the carpet
All from those who wanted to do me harm
There is also a pile of presents and gifts,
Which I enjoy, but most often ignore
And sometimes I throw them out my door
At the passersby
Thinking they could use them more than I
Only one man came and he does his best
To make it a better place
Though I'm afraid I'm difficult to live with
I don't pick up after myself
And I don't turn off the light
Because it's so hard to sleep
When it's so loud outside
I try to be polite
And I try to be kind
But it's so hard to live up to the example
He is setting
My roommate is too kind
He's everything I'm not
I can't believe he's here with me
But I suppose I'll adjust
I just hope one day others can hear him inside
And that I can say, if just one day,
That I am like him
Because I've heard he paid an awful price
To be here with me
And if that's case
As I've come to believe
Then he deserves better than what I've giving him
So I'll do my best
To watch
And to learn
And to become
Something like
My roommate
There's a room that everyone has seen
But few have entered
And only another man and me
Have bothered to stay As I've already expressed in the past, I don't think people are really reading this anymore. But I'm connected to a couple of blog-rings that have people actively using Xanga, so maybe I'll pick up a couple of readers. Whenever I come up with some new poetry, which will hopefully be in the upcoming months, I'll post it here. All that I ask is that I get the occasional comment. Honestly, if I don't get that, I probably won't continue to bother with Xanga because what's the point of posting this stuff if I don't even know if anyone is reading it? And I've got MySpace, and I get comments on my poetry there, so I don't need this place. I guess there's just a spot in my heart for Xanga because I've had it so long.
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| So, as of yesterday, I've finished my first semester of college. I
don't know how much I've learned in terms of psychology, biology, old
testament history, karate, or theatre, but I know I've learned a lot
about myself and about life.
Things I've learned:
I can,
with enough work, do a decent job at acting. I think I was just so
intimidated by the size of the whole Terra Nova thing, that I was
freaked out. And I won't say it wasn't difficult sometimes, because
that would be a blatant lie. It was freaking hard. But it came out
good. So it was worth it.
I can study. I suck at managing my time, but I think to come out of my first semester with A's and B's in classes that were not
easy is an accomplishment. Heck, I even got a B in biology, all it took
was an all-night study fest at the Kettle the night before the final,
working on both biology and old testament.
I can be there for people. I wish I'd been there more often, but I've been trying.
Things
have been crazy. Things have been hard. There were plenty of times that
I contemplated just getting in my car and seeing how far I'd get. But
I'm glad I didn't, now. Because I would have missed out on so much.
I
would have missed out on so many good times, so many good people, so
many good things. I would have missed out on so many hard times, so
much pain, so many tears. And it sounds like I should wish that I had
missed some of those things. But I know that I wouldn't be the same
person if I'd missed those things.
I don't think I miss high
school at all anymore. I did at points in the semester, but now, I just
look back and wonder how I put up with it. The lack of freedom, the
lack of choice, the lack of responsibility! It's terrifying, to think
of how paralyzing high school can. I mean, you're told everything,
given little or no choice, and when you graduate, you're thrown into a
world where everyone does, essentially, what they want! We all have the
law to lead us, but it isn't even half as restrictive as high school
was! High school had its good points, but none that college doesn't
also have. There were good people, the occasional good teacher, and the
extracurricular stuff was good sometimes. That's about it.
This
semester had it's bad things too. Like I've said before, I've felt like
I was essentially just limping towards this point. And now that I'm
here, I realize I could keep going. I have more in me than I realized.
And yet, at the same time, I'm thankful for some time away from Wayland
and away from "life". Because all I plan on doing this Christmas break
is resting, visiting with friends, and applying for a summer missions
position that will hopefully have me living my summer in the northern
part of the country.
Yes, there have been some bad times this
semester. But everything comes together, in the end, right? Then I
guess it's OK. I'll tend to my wounds, and come back ready to go. | | |
| Well...it would seem that my Xanga has died. How sad. I was sure I was going to keep it going. I don't have the heart to delete, but I also don't have the interest to keep writing on it.
Does anyone still read what I put on here?
| | |
|  | Currently Watching
Cruel Intentions
By Sarah Michelle Gellar, Ryan Phillippe, Reese Witherspoon, Selma Blair, Louise Fletcher, Joshua Jackson, Eric Mabius, Sean Patrick Thomas, Swoosie Kurtz, Christine Baranski, Alaina Reed Hall, Deborah Offner, Tara Reid, Herta Ware, Hiep Thi Le, Charlie O'Connell, Fred Norris, Ginger Williams, Drew Snyder, Phil Hawn
see related |
...from lack of sleep. But that's OK, because I plan on crashing as soon as I finish typing this.
Life
is beautifully weird. Disturbingly good. Wonderfully painful. Life is,
was, and always will be, a paradox. Dr. Ratcliff said this in her
class: "God is paradoxical". After I figured out the spelling and wrote
that down, I remember laughing on the inside. I don't think it's the
fact that HE is a paradox, as much as the fact that humans limit
God...because we can't help it. Even when we make the effort to push
ourselves out of the way, to put His will first...we limit His power.
And I'm not sure yet how to stop doing that.
My conversations
with God are very odd, I think. I most often like to stand in an area
outside and stare at the sky...and just talk. It's great, although I
suppose if people were to see me, they'd think I was crazy. But I do it
very late at night, so that I'm not freaking anyone out except the kids
that want to smoke on campus and not get caught. Do you wonder what I
get in return? To be completely honest...I believe I get answers.
Sometimes. Sometimes I get "Laters", or silence...to indicate (I think)
That I've asked a silly question. But most often, God gives me an
answer that truly satisfies me. That doesn't sound right, however. His
answers are not always what I want to hear...but they are satisfactory
because, let's face it, if you're not satisifed with GOD'S answer, then
who CAN you be satisfied with?! But He is good to me, and is always
gentle in His reminder that HE is the creator. Not me.
I had a
wonderful conversation with a guy named Jonathan today...and I have no
idea how to spell his name. But I suppose that doesn't matter. Either
way, he showed up in the cafe just as I was finished with my "chicken"
and we ended up talking about music, guitar, that sort of thing...and
eventually ended up at the point and meaning of life and our existance.
He, like I, doesn't see himself as the kind of guy built for a job.
It's nice to meet someone else like that.
Being up this late, I
wish I'd spent my evening doing something other than watch Cruel
Intentions (A great if not a bit lewd movie) and write this blog. If I
could have done nothing else, I would have liked to watch her sleep. As
cheesy (and possibly creepy) as that sounds, the greatest part is that
I know she shares my feelings. And there is nothing dark or wrong with
any of it--it is what it is. She is a much better reason to look
forward to the weekend than something so simple as sleep or time to
watch a movie. No, she is real. She is honestly organic and warm and
kind...and is one of the few people in this world that can make me
forget the difficulty of my own mind. I don't overthink or speculate or
hate myself when I'm around her. And one of the few other times that I
can say that this is true is when I'm praying to God.
That
paragraph above, to me, suggests that I'm not nearly close enough to
God lately. And that's completely true--but I'm coming so much closer
and enjoying His presence and His hand so much more...and I honestly
believe that day by day, I'm coming so much closer to the point at
which I can honestly say I am sold out for God. Perhaps that is the
race I am running--perhaps I'm too sleep drunk to be making any sense
right now. I don't know. But I don't want to make some lofty claim
about being so close to God, about being completely devoted...because I
would be lying. But I'm trying. I'm trying to open myself up enough to
God to let Him work in me. But it's hard. The last time I did that, I
got hurt. And I know it wasn't His fault, it was this dirty world with
it's corruption and it's injustice...but it's so hard to look into the
sky, to see the hand of the Creator...and not want to blame the action
of His creation on Him.
I just wish...in my own selfish
core...that he could understand how hard it was...and is...to not have
them anymore. The human part of me curses that man who made a choice
without looking at who he was effecting...but the Christ part of me
honestly prays that he is OK...and that he is in God.
I want the Christ part to win that battle.
To put it simply...life, although weird....is good right now. Whether I acknowlege it or not. | | |
| Well, I'm officially a college kid, so I don't
mean for the title to suggest that I've graduated or something, it
means that I've made the transition.
Wow.
I have never met so many amazing, interesting, cool people in one
place! That isn't to say that the people at Shallowater aren't those
things, but there are simply a lot more people here that I want to get
to know. I'm overwhelmed by names and faces, and sometimes it's hard to
even remember them all. And more than that, it is frustrating sometimes
to be surrounded by people that are genuinely nice, but I feel a
distance between myself and them because...well...there is one. There
should be, I've only known most of them like a week or something. But
it's hard because I'm not used to not being around people that I feel
close to. I always had 5 or 6 people at Shallowater that I felt I could
talk to if anything was bothering me, and now all I truly have is A.J..
I mean, I have other friends here, but we don't all know each other
enough to be willing to talk about the hard things. Maybe later.
I feel as if I've lost contact with the Jordy that lived in
Shallowater. He's like some cousin I had that I liked, but mostly
because I had some pity for him. I'm not saying I'm a completely
different person now, I'm saying that my intentions are changing. I
used to be social because I didn't want to be alone. Now I'm social
because I genuinely want to meet other people, to know them and what
they think and feel and all of that. It's weird. I'm
doubting my major again, which is to be expected I suppose. When people
ask me (It's pretty much the most common question on campus) I still
tell them religion, but the problem is I just don't know if that's
where God wants me. If he would give me interests in so many different
areas, surely he wouldn't restrict my life to a ministry that someone
without those interests could do, right? I don't meant to say that
people in ministry are somehow less than me, I'm saying they have
different interests that better match that field. So if it wasn't for
the fact that the religion department is currently paying me a
jack-load of cash in scholarships, I'd change my major to undecided. I feel so many different things, and I suppose that's because I'm experiencing so many different things, all at the same time. Distance...we've got a love/hate relationship. I don't feel like myself, but I like that. | | |
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