"There Is"
This vacation's useless
These white pills aren't kind
I've given a lot of thought on this 13-hour drive
I miss the grinding concrete where we sat past 8 or 9
And slowly finished laughing in the glow of our headlights
I've given a lot of thought to the nights we use to have
The days have come and gone
Our lives went by so fast
I faintly remember breathing on your bedroom floor
Where I laid and told you, but you swear you loved me more
Do you care if i don't know what to say
Will you sleep tonight or will you think of me
Will i shake this off pretend its all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me
There is
Those notes you wrote me
I've kept them all
I've given a lot of thought of how to write you back this fall
With every single letter in every single word
There will be a hidden message about a boy that
loves a girl
Do you care if i don't know what to say
Will you sleep tonight or will you think of me
Will i shake this off, pretend its all okay
that there's someone out there who feels just like me
There is
Do you care if i don't know what to say?
Will you sleep tonight or will you think of me
Will i shake this off, pretend its all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me
Do you care if i don't know what to say?
Will you sleep tonight or will you think of me
Will i shake this off, pretend its all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me
There is
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
For you debaters...
For your debaters, the CEDA topic this year is US FP against China, and because the resolution is SOOOO broad, there is acutally a TOPICAL case out there about China's oil companies promoting genocide in the Sudan. Haha.
A Tree Grows In Brooklyn
The tree "likes the poor". I'm not sure how many of you have ever read "A Tree Grows In Brroklyn". I am not so certain that I can even say I've read it. The first time I cracked the pages of Betty Smith's tale, I was but 12 years old. Certainly too young to understand the sociological implications of her class theories or the discussions of depression. But I wasn't too young to understand the Tree.
When I was a small child, I used to read a story in a green book about a tree that loved a child. It cared for it, and loved it, and cried as it grew up. A Tree Grows In Brooklyn I thought, would be the grown-up version of this childhood book. And to a small extent, it was.
The tree loves the poor, protects them and houses them. It reminded them of their childhood, moments both good and otherwise. It was their solace. It comforts them in a way only a constant and quiet presence can.
When I look out into the ocean, I hear and see things that maybe others do not.
The first time I looked out at the ocean at night here, I didn't think about what I usually do when I see the ocean. Most of you know that I am greatly addicted to the ocean. I love it. It remeinds me of so many wonderful things of my childhood. But after I left home for undergrad, the ocean always reminded me of home. But as Tyler and I sat barefoot on the beach last February, I didn't think of my home, I thought about them.
Thinking about where I should go to law school was so confusing, until that moment. At that moment, I stared out into the ocean and realized that somewhere, some young girl was looking out at the same ocean as it lapped her shores. Only, she wasn't trying to decide which educational opportunity was best for her; she was trying to decide if the educated far away would hear her. Somewhere there was a mother and father who looked at the ocean that same night, hoping that its majesty would bring their cries for justice closer to the ears of God. There are children in Africa who look out at the ocean, searching for answers, much like I was. Only the answer to my querry seemed much more obvious.
The ocean loves the poor, it hears their cries and keeps them. The wind loves the oppressed; it brings their cries to the ears of the Lord. "Because of the cry of the oppressed, I will now arise! sayeth the Lord" [Psalm 12]. He hears them, and holds them, and keeps them. But it is also clear that he has sent us to do the WORK of justice.
The ocean watches me and keeps me, reminding me of why I came here. It is my silent protector. It holds my secret: I am afraid. I'm terrified of what it means to give myself over for the sake of the call, and nothing more. But the refuge it holds for me is in the memory of so many voices not lost in the din of the world's self-delusion. There is no place safer in a storm than the eye of the hurricane. There is no where else I'd rather be than in the very hand of God, living His way on His time. As frightening and as abnormal as my everyday choices have become, they are that much more a comfort to me. For I know, that the closer I grow to Him the safer I am. The danger lies not in my going where He calls me, but in calling to Him from another place I chose to go. It really doesn't matter what is to become of me. Perhaps no one will ever really know what I will have done before I die, but what is life if not my graveyard shift? I mean what is it if it's not my time to clock in as a messenger and a soldier, and then clock out when it's time for someone else's turn, so I can go home?
When I was a small child, I used to read a story in a green book about a tree that loved a child. It cared for it, and loved it, and cried as it grew up. A Tree Grows In Brooklyn I thought, would be the grown-up version of this childhood book. And to a small extent, it was.
The tree loves the poor, protects them and houses them. It reminded them of their childhood, moments both good and otherwise. It was their solace. It comforts them in a way only a constant and quiet presence can.
When I look out into the ocean, I hear and see things that maybe others do not.
The first time I looked out at the ocean at night here, I didn't think about what I usually do when I see the ocean. Most of you know that I am greatly addicted to the ocean. I love it. It remeinds me of so many wonderful things of my childhood. But after I left home for undergrad, the ocean always reminded me of home. But as Tyler and I sat barefoot on the beach last February, I didn't think of my home, I thought about them.
Thinking about where I should go to law school was so confusing, until that moment. At that moment, I stared out into the ocean and realized that somewhere, some young girl was looking out at the same ocean as it lapped her shores. Only, she wasn't trying to decide which educational opportunity was best for her; she was trying to decide if the educated far away would hear her. Somewhere there was a mother and father who looked at the ocean that same night, hoping that its majesty would bring their cries for justice closer to the ears of God. There are children in Africa who look out at the ocean, searching for answers, much like I was. Only the answer to my querry seemed much more obvious.
The ocean loves the poor, it hears their cries and keeps them. The wind loves the oppressed; it brings their cries to the ears of the Lord. "Because of the cry of the oppressed, I will now arise! sayeth the Lord" [Psalm 12]. He hears them, and holds them, and keeps them. But it is also clear that he has sent us to do the WORK of justice.
The ocean watches me and keeps me, reminding me of why I came here. It is my silent protector. It holds my secret: I am afraid. I'm terrified of what it means to give myself over for the sake of the call, and nothing more. But the refuge it holds for me is in the memory of so many voices not lost in the din of the world's self-delusion. There is no place safer in a storm than the eye of the hurricane. There is no where else I'd rather be than in the very hand of God, living His way on His time. As frightening and as abnormal as my everyday choices have become, they are that much more a comfort to me. For I know, that the closer I grow to Him the safer I am. The danger lies not in my going where He calls me, but in calling to Him from another place I chose to go. It really doesn't matter what is to become of me. Perhaps no one will ever really know what I will have done before I die, but what is life if not my graveyard shift? I mean what is it if it's not my time to clock in as a messenger and a soldier, and then clock out when it's time for someone else's turn, so I can go home?
Monday, September 19, 2005
"The Other"
Have you guys seen that new Toyota commericial about the Tahoma's new truck bed that mimiks an aid/relief commercial. The woman cries at the end and says "Won't you help?" I don't think I have EVER been more offended by a commercial.
There are many things in the world that allow suffering to go on unnoticed. To quote Lord of War "It has been said that evil previals when good men fail to act. They should say, Evil Prevails." But perhaps at the core of the permission we in the Western world tacitly grant to oppressors world wide is the desensitization we experience toward the oppression. Part o desenseitization, is dehumanization. We dehumanize the pain or the victim and eventually, it is no longer a moral quandry, it's just life. For example, before slavery in this country could've been permitted, Blacks had to be dehumanized in the eyes of our citizenry. We don't enslave humans, we enslave "monsters", "Negros", "Niggers" and "Coloreds." We don't abort babies, we abort "Fetuses". The same is true for issues like hunger and oppression: we develop a sense of the Other which prevents us from having to deal with the issue on a moral level. Toyota is doing just this with this dispicable commercial.
There is nothing more terrible than to capitalize on the horror and pain of others by telling them it's not real, or if it is, it's not a big deal. How dare Toyota tell those in Ethiopa starving because of the locusts plague that their suffering is funny and even worth a paradoy commericial. How dare they say that IJM raising money for children kinapped in the Middle East and trafficked to the U.A.E. to be camel jockeys is funny. How can they say that even the victims of hurricane Katrina [the one million displaced] portrayed in Red Cross Commercials like the ones Toyota is paroding are not deserving of respect for their tragedy? The horrors of the human condition are NOT laughing matters.
There are many things in the world that allow suffering to go on unnoticed. To quote Lord of War "It has been said that evil previals when good men fail to act. They should say, Evil Prevails." But perhaps at the core of the permission we in the Western world tacitly grant to oppressors world wide is the desensitization we experience toward the oppression. Part o desenseitization, is dehumanization. We dehumanize the pain or the victim and eventually, it is no longer a moral quandry, it's just life. For example, before slavery in this country could've been permitted, Blacks had to be dehumanized in the eyes of our citizenry. We don't enslave humans, we enslave "monsters", "Negros", "Niggers" and "Coloreds." We don't abort babies, we abort "Fetuses". The same is true for issues like hunger and oppression: we develop a sense of the Other which prevents us from having to deal with the issue on a moral level. Toyota is doing just this with this dispicable commercial.
There is nothing more terrible than to capitalize on the horror and pain of others by telling them it's not real, or if it is, it's not a big deal. How dare Toyota tell those in Ethiopa starving because of the locusts plague that their suffering is funny and even worth a paradoy commericial. How dare they say that IJM raising money for children kinapped in the Middle East and trafficked to the U.A.E. to be camel jockeys is funny. How can they say that even the victims of hurricane Katrina [the one million displaced] portrayed in Red Cross Commercials like the ones Toyota is paroding are not deserving of respect for their tragedy? The horrors of the human condition are NOT laughing matters.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
My Cry
Psalm 10
1 [a]Why, O LORD, do you stand far off?
Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?
2 In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak,
who are caught in the schemes he devises.
3 He boasts of the cravings of his heart;
he blesses the greedy and reviles the LORD.
4 In his pride the wicked does not seek him;
in all his thoughts there is no room for God.
5 His ways are always prosperous;
he is haughty and your laws are far from him;
he sneers at all his enemies.
6 He says to himself, "Nothing will shake me;
I'll always be happy and never have trouble."
7 His mouth is full of curses and lies and threats;
trouble and evil are under his tongue.
8 He lies in wait near the villages;
from ambush he murders the innocent,
watching in secret for his victims.
9 He lies in wait like a lion in cover;
he lies in wait to catch the helpless;
he catches the helpless and drags them off in his net.
10 His victims are crushed, they collapse;
they fall under his strength.
11 He says to himself, "God has forgotten;
he covers his face and never sees."
12 Arise, LORD! Lift up your hand, O God.
Do not forget the helpless.
13 Why does the wicked man revile God?
Why does he say to himself,
"He won't call me to account"?
14 But you, O God, do see trouble and grief;
you consider it to take it in hand.
The victim commits himself to you;
you are the helper of the fatherless.
15 Break the arm of the wicked and evil man;
call him to account for his wickedness
that would not be found out.
16 The LORD is King for ever and ever;
the nations will perish from his land.
17 You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted;
you encourage them, and you listen to their cry,
18 defending the fatherless and the oppressed,
in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more.
1 [a]Why, O LORD, do you stand far off?
Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?
2 In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak,
who are caught in the schemes he devises.
3 He boasts of the cravings of his heart;
he blesses the greedy and reviles the LORD.
4 In his pride the wicked does not seek him;
in all his thoughts there is no room for God.
5 His ways are always prosperous;
he is haughty and your laws are far from him;
he sneers at all his enemies.
6 He says to himself, "Nothing will shake me;
I'll always be happy and never have trouble."
7 His mouth is full of curses and lies and threats;
trouble and evil are under his tongue.
8 He lies in wait near the villages;
from ambush he murders the innocent,
watching in secret for his victims.
9 He lies in wait like a lion in cover;
he lies in wait to catch the helpless;
he catches the helpless and drags them off in his net.
10 His victims are crushed, they collapse;
they fall under his strength.
11 He says to himself, "God has forgotten;
he covers his face and never sees."
12 Arise, LORD! Lift up your hand, O God.
Do not forget the helpless.
13 Why does the wicked man revile God?
Why does he say to himself,
"He won't call me to account"?
14 But you, O God, do see trouble and grief;
you consider it to take it in hand.
The victim commits himself to you;
you are the helper of the fatherless.
15 Break the arm of the wicked and evil man;
call him to account for his wickedness
that would not be found out.
16 The LORD is King for ever and ever;
the nations will perish from his land.
17 You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted;
you encourage them, and you listen to their cry,
18 defending the fatherless and the oppressed,
in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more.
Take a Trip
I had to take a trip this weekend to Home - The Remix. I needed to get my car cleaned and pick up my new liscense plates adn a few other things. Also, there is quite a lot of stuff going on in my family that's no good.
I contemplated not putting this stuff up on my blog, but then decided that this is my online journal and that my friends read this and my parents read this and my siblings read this, and not one else cares.
So, my uncled is accused of molesting my cousins. Because of this, one of my aunts [one of her kids were involved in the "incident" - supposed] and so she lost custody of both her kids. As a result, they had to go live with their father in Florida. Moving on, so my uncle has been excommunicated from the family and my grandmother doesn't really know. I think he may end up in jail. I'm so sick to my stomach over all of this.
I contemplated not putting this stuff up on my blog, but then decided that this is my online journal and that my friends read this and my parents read this and my siblings read this, and not one else cares.
So, my uncled is accused of molesting my cousins. Because of this, one of my aunts [one of her kids were involved in the "incident" - supposed] and so she lost custody of both her kids. As a result, they had to go live with their father in Florida. Moving on, so my uncle has been excommunicated from the family and my grandmother doesn't really know. I think he may end up in jail. I'm so sick to my stomach over all of this.
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