Last night was...

Last night was... the first time i’ve ever journeyed towards the beach at nighttime, blessed with a clear sky to just gaze, gaze, gaze at, to open ones heart and just sing about how beautiful life and love is; how this isn’t just a waste of time, a waste of space, a waste of breath.

In these bodies we will live
In these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love
You invest your life.

And looking back and seeing the silhouette of those your heart has grown so large for so fast… i’m so thankful for the new folks in my life, where in my previous despair, i would have never imagined…. Folks who have the spirit to just go out of the way to take wonderful trips like this, to just be still and silent in a world that is too loud and too fast to remember how amazing it is to be here and to see the Face of Life and think about why we’re here and what Love looks like…

Then we observed the night scene of downtown Savannah over some delicious pizza and older punk rhythms. i’ve never seen that before, people up late to eat by themselves; i just wonder what they’re thinking and why they’re here, the flashing light of clubs and women walking down the street hanging on some man’s arm, wearing clothes that reveal too much of what she really isn’t. And so then, you’re thrust back into reality, with that warmth, the embrace of the cosmos still lingering in your heart, wondering how you and your friends can shed some light between that of the day scene of this college town that moves entirely too fast and the midnight nation that doesn’t really seem to know where it is to go at all.

Let’s turn this city’s lights off, stare at the stars and begin to wonder (for those who’ve never took the time to,) “Why are we so small? Whoever is up there, do we look like stars at all?” And maybe that will move us.

Something inside me says we bear the same image.

Katie

i made friends with a hitchhiker today at the park. i walked by at first, but, upon seeing her backpack, i was struck by curiousity and turned back wondering why on earth i was in a rush, if i wasn’t even in a rush? She was really young, just 25 years old, and her name is Katie. She said that she’s been hitchhiking for about 7 years, because college just wasn’t for her. Before she began hitchhiking, she used to get drunk every night because just going to school and going home and living a stagnant life didn’t make much sense to her. She likes knowing that she doesn’t ever know what will happen the next day, and that is very brave of her.

Katie is stuck in Savannah for a while, because her boyfriend tried stealing a sandwich from Wal-mart (which they both hate with a passion), and he doesn’t get released until the end of the month. She went on about how strange it was that we live in a country where rich art students dump half their dorms each year, and people who are struggling to get by can’t even dumpster dive because the dumpsters get locked. All the food goes to waste. Perfectly good food. Katie and her boyfriend were just hungry. She said she can’t get a job because employers judge her because of her tattoos.

i told her that i wanted to see her again, so she introduced me to Doug, who always knows where she is. Doug is a man at the park who makes flowers out of palm leaves. And one of his friends (or maybe his family?), Stephen, was telling me about how he makes things out of palm leaves because he needs to make money to feed his family. He basically told me that they have noodles everyday, that he’s not trying to complain, but it’d be nice to have something better. And it’s so weird, because i come to this fellowship building everyday, and there’s always food in the fridge. On top of that, i have a meal plan that will give me 18 meals a week, with a buffet style selection. Am i blessed, or am i just really secure?

SCAD doesn’t encourage us to talk to the homeless and panhandlers. But, why not? They are people, too. They’re like us, but without homes or jobs. In need of maybe someone to talk to, someone to acknowledge their existence. Katie had lots of scars on her legs and dirt on her feet. And scars always mean stories. She says she’s seen a lot of horrible things, but she still believes that love is better than hate. We all have a lot to learn from each other.

i pretty much invited her to go to Wild Goose festival next year because that’s how i met Joel who was hitchhiking at the time. Maybe she will meet other traveling folks. She wrote it down. i hope she remembers!

Maybe junk is about to get real?

Jesus listened to me and told me last night that despite the fact that he enjoys philosophy, philosophical debates are for people who are too concerned on being right and can end up being only about being right. He told me that being right doesn’t matter. He told me that he knows what it’s like to be lost in one’s own head, that he’s been there before and he told me that he knows how scary that place is. He also reminded me that only He matters. Do i believe it?

Despite my ever changing thoughts, Jesus stays and he says “there’s no shame in that. You’re not stupid… Or else, i’m stupid, too”.

And Jesus can’t be stupid. Well, it depends on what you think of stupidity, but, he’s brilliant.

He also told me that “junk is about to get real, like really real, like really really real, like, i can’t exactly tell you how, but it’s going to. You and i are going to be like THIS close”, but only if i let it become real. i am as weak as the thinnest branch on a tree, and he whispers to me that it’s the perfect time to choose. “Junk is about to get real”, which is the scariest part…

i couldn’t help but smile and shiver.

Jesus is alive today, and hecomes in all forms because his people are as diverse as the number of your skin cells, if you keep that in mind… and you can see him shine through them so clearly sometimes that at the perfect moment, you will see no difference between them and him.

Strange things are happening at Hogwarts art school?

Why being a 90's kid is awesome (and other related things).

This song always makes me feel good and freak out in the good way.

It makes me think of my first friend ever, her name was Blair. i met her in 6th grade in our chorus class, where we sang “A Whole New World” and “Grease Lightning”. Our friendship was brief because i had to move on the behalf of my mom’s marriage, but Blair was the first kid in my whole time in public school who was genuinely nice to me. She was a talkative little punker and i remember she complimented the button pin on my jelly shoes. Those jelly shoes were so cool to me (where on earth are they? i hope i didn’t thrift them!), and i tried not to be insecure about them just because they were different from what everyone else wore. Those shoes, with their red and white laces, and the button i stuck on, it was the least i could do to express myself in physicality. My mom was single and had no job for 6 months, thus sleeping in front of the tv all day with the crazy telenovela women screaming and weeping, so i was really insecure from a lack of attention, and i also got picked on for wearing the same t-shirt all the time, and for having jeans that were too short for me, while all the other girls flaunted the fact that they could afford overpriced miniskirts and thongs. At 12 years old!

But, Blair, i think of her every once in a while and how she liked me when the other girls didn’t. And so did this kid named Kyle. At the time, i never knew a guy could be as compassionate as he was to me. Still, i had no clue why Blair liked me, but she saw past what others did and she was more real, unlike the “frenemies” i kept making. And she listened to a lot of pop songs like this one, so it’s natural that i think of her whenever i listen to Third Eye’s “Graduate” or maybe a song by Sum 41, Simple Plan or Good Charlotte. She was huge on the last two. And so thinking of her and those times, and this song, it makes me not want to grow up, or at least not stop caring about friendship or how music brings people together and makes us think of the times we shared.

Was it really six years ago?

Graduate // Third Eye Blind

This is my hope: that the real spirit of making and sharing and listening to music never dies

Gross stuff is good.

i’ve kind of finally realized that all the “nasty” stuff i’ve had to do because my family is very petrified of gross things, is really good for me! It just sank in! So, living here for eighteen years is awesome. My father and my twin sister are the most anal about germs so i gotta do most of the dirty work. i am also the official trash can of my household. That means that i am the one who goes through the fridge and finds out what’s good and what’s bad. i have to taste test those things, touch it sometimes when i clean the container, smell it, and so on… And i eat whatever is left. Cleaning my stepdad’s bathroom is kind of gross, and when my grandfather was here, he’d pee all over my sister and i’s bathroom floor without knowing, and i’d have to clean it up. So now, i am the one who runs around barefoot and cleans the toilets and picks people’s scabs off and most of the time, i don’t worry about getting sick. It’s still gross, but i can ENDURE it, and i have endured it, you know? i just accept it. And so there’s a difference, in being grossed out and turning away, and being grossed out and embracing it.

i made a hashtag on twitter: #loveisgross. Because it really is. Being with people is messy and gross and all of it is so personal. And i’m laughing over it, because it’s funny. We’re all really gross. We defecate, and we put weird substances in our bodies, we throw up, we get sick, we have body fluids and pimples, we get dirty. And our internal stuff can get messy, too. Our minds can get pretty sick sometimes. And so, just going through all the gross stuff is making me stronger, and that realization makes me excited about loving folks.

If you even wore shoes... i'd like to be in them.

i just want to be a real friend to Jesus again. Why am i not treating you like a friend? You feel so far away. And when i don't know where you are, i don't know where i am either or who i am either.

i hate everything i've made you into, and i hate how i've used you. i hate how i don't feel like i know you anymore. Who needs amazing theology? Who needs to know everything? It's nice, but it's been so consuming and so distracting.... What have i been making myself? Thinking about you day and night and not even knowing who you are, losing track, losing my memory, my mind, everything... i just want to be your friend. The bestest friend i know i could possibly ever be, because that is who i want to be. And we become who were are around with. And i haven't hung out with you so much. i need to get out of here. i need to be in your shoes and live your life. We need to hold hands and get out there, like a pair of crazy lovers that the world has no control of.... Because i'm going crazier here in suburbia, in my comfort, in my loneliness. Jesus, there is so much crap here that i don't want to conform to.

i miss you so much. You see past my weakness and see someone decent, someone who could be beautiful like you.

Let's be Honest

i need to be more honest when it comes to this "dying of yourself" idea, the idea of wrapping up oneself around such a divine Love as Jesus's and those who pursued the same existence. As much as i say that i want it, it's not easy. In fact, it's terribly exhausting to constantly give up your fears and desires. When i find myself surrendering to love consistently and actively, sometimes when i realize what i am doing, i just want to stop and be lazy and selfish and bad to myself and others. i want to lie in my bed and have my doors and heart locked up and lament over my life. All the while, i know what i find myself pitying myself for isn't really who i want to be.

It's not easy. Love is tragic in this sense. If you are aware of what you are losing; time, energy, control, the world becomes a draining place. The more i talk to my wiser friends, the more i realize that i am afraid of losing control when really i should realize control wasn't mine at all. i laid in bed last night so still that i heard my heart beating, and i felt that, and i knew, that besides perhaps sneezing or breathing oddly, i don't have much control over my own heartbeat, my life.

When i begin to pity myself, i wonder if i have anything at all except for this thing that i and others dispersed throughout the earth insist on, this burden called "Love". i don't really know sometimes. i feel like a little hopeful child with the idea of love and beauty on my mind day and night and it can be daunting when faced by the more "realistic" minds and souls i encounter. But i see that those who love with such an intensity tend to forget their own troubles. i see that those who love with such an intensity find wholeness in their lives. Love is the most "realistic" possibility to them. They know what they were made for.They look human. And bright. They found what they need, they found the love of G-d, and i find that i want what they have. i think that is what i want too, to be human, to have love and grace and mercy, all those things. And so then, i don't pity myself anymore, despite the fact that i may not have an identity in anything else, and then i am happy.

Yours,

rachel virginia