Something startles me where I thought I was safest, I withdraw from the still woods I loved, I will not go now on the pastures to walk, I will not strip the clothes from my body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth as to other flesh to renew me.
O how can it be that the ground itself does not sicken? How can you be alive you growths of spring? How can you furnish health you blood of roots, orchards, grain? Are they not continually putting distemper’d corpses within you? Is not every continent work’d over and over with sour dead?
Where have you disposed of their carcasses? Those drunkards and gluttons of so many generations? Where have you drawn off all the foul liquid and meat? I do not see any of it upon you to-day, or perhaps I am decei’d, I will run a furrow with my plough, I will press my spade through the sod and turn it up underneath, I am sure I shall expose some of the foul meat.
Behold this compost! behold it well! Perhaps every mite has once form’d part of a sick person-yet behold! The grass of spring covers the prairies, The bean bursts noiselessly through the mould in the garden, The delicate spear of the onion pierces upward, The apple-buds cluster together on the apple-branches, The resurrection of the wheat appears with pale visage out of its graves, The tinge awakes over the willow-tree and the mulberry-tree, The he-birds carol mornings and evenings while the she-birds sit on their nests, The young of poultry break through the hatch’d eggs, The new-born of animals appear, the calf its dropt from the cow, the colt from the mare, Out of its little hill faithfully rise the potato’s dark green leaves, out of its hill rises the yellow maize-stalk, the lilacs bloom in the dooryards, The summer growth is innocent and disdainful above all those strate of sour dead.
What chemistry! That the winds are really not infectious, That this is no cheat, this transparent green-wash of the sea which is so amorous after me, That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all over with its tongues, That it will not endanger me with the fevers that have deposited themselves in it, That all is clean forever and forever, That the cool drink from the well tastes so good, That the blackberries are so flavorous and juicy, That the fruits of the apple-orchard and the orange-orchard, that melons, grapes, peaches, plums, will none of them poison me, That when I recline on the grass I do not catchy any disease, Though probably every spear of grass rises out of what was once a catching disease.
Now I am terrified at the Earth, it is that calm and patient, It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions, It turns harmless and stainless on its axis, with such endless successions of diseas’d corpses, It distills such exquisite winds out of such infused fetor (a strong, foul smell) It renews with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous crops, It gives such divine materials to men, and accepts such leavings from them at last.
Holy Spirit, I love you and never want to be away from You. That’s why I’m so happy I’ll be with You forever in heaven! But do I really love Your presence so much to not want to waste even a day here without You even if I’m going to be with You forever? Wouldn’t I not want to waste even a day here even if I’m going to be with You forever, if I really love You and literally CANNOT be without you?
Create in me a clean heart, O God And renew a right spirit within me
Cast me not away from thy presence, O Lord Take not thy Holy Spirit from me Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation And renew a right spirit within me
If I woke up after graduation and this were all a dream and I were still in high school. I don’t know what I’d do.
BUT THAT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN BECAUSE IT’S NOT A DREAM AND I AM GRADUATING (AND GOING TO COLLEGE WHOO!) AND I AM NEVER GOING TO BE A HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT EVER AGAIN WHEE! Going to bed at 9pm with this happy thought, mmm.
There are a lot of things I want to do. Obviously. It’s the summer before I start college.
One thing that’s been on my mind more frequently is having time to draw. I can’t wait to walk around somewhere, sit, pull out a sketchbook and pencil, and just draw. I haven’t drawn live people, or anything, really, in too long.
I reallyreallyreally miss figure drawing. I think drawing naked people is one of my top 10 favorite things to do. Especially when the models are fat. Drawing the rolls is the best part.
"The American Red Cross: President and CEO - Marsha J. Evans salary for the year 2010 was $651,957, plus all personal, medical, & pension expenses. Less than 10 cents of your donated dollar actually goes to the cause.
The United Way: President - Brian Gallagher receives a $375,000 base salary, along with numerous personal & family expense benefits. Less than 12 cents of your donated dollar actually goes to the cause.
UNICEF: CEO - Caryl M. Stern receives $1.2 Million per year (100k per month) plus all living & housing expenses, including a ROLLS ROYCE. Less than 15 cents of your donated dollar actually goes to the cause.
The Salvation Army: Commissioner - Todd Bassett receives a salary of only $13,000 per year (plus housing) for managing this $2 billion dollar organization. 96 cents of all donated dollars go to the cause.”
Found this on a blog titled, “Give to Christian organizations.” Now, I don’t really agree with this generalization (so I didn’t reblog it that way), but the above statistics make me think twice. Obviously, I’m not going to be I’MONLYGOINGTOGIVEMONEYTOCHRISTIANORGANIZATIONS because 1) that’s not wise or fair 2) when donating, no matter to whom I donate, it’s money so Christian organization or not, I’ll still be giving $+prayer, BUT it’s just interesting to know and makes me think twice about where I put my money when I have the intention and desire to help WITH that money. I guess the ones that happen to have the least administrative costs happen to be based in the Christian faith? Maybe? Maybe not?
This reminds me of something this past year. Because of the recent tragic disasters, CV’s ASB decided to make the MORP dance into a fundraiser for Japan. We ended up donating $1000 to Direct Relief International’s Japan Relief and Recovery Fund. I know the name of the organization is more annoying to say than “Red Cross,” but I think Hannah Park and I made the right decision in researching where we put our money.
I don’t know the stats for Direct Relief International, but I do remember someone saying the Red Cross doesn’t give as much of your money as you would want it to. (I know I know, don’t believe everything you hear. I still keep what I hear in mind, though.) On top of that, I wanted to find an organization that is specifically made for disaster relief rather than sticking with a big organization that branches out for multiple causes.
So Hannah and I looked at a summary of the stats (what percentage of money goes to administration, fundraisers, office space, actual RELIEF etc.) and thought it was reasonably fair. Mr. Pehar was doubtful because it wasn’t a familiar name like the Red Cross, but he looked at it himself and hesitantly approved. I’m glad we did that.
I tend to wake up earlier than usual on most banking days and late days which seems pretty backwards, but I love calm, easy-going, not rushed mornings.
This morning, I woke up at 6, plugged my dead itouch in the charger, took a shower, was disappointed to come back to a not charging itouch, plugged the itouch in again, slowly got ready, listened to Mumford and Sons while my hair dried, went to Hallie’s at 740 to pick her up, realized it was a late day, came back home, defensively argued with my mom that I don’t always forget these things, made my mom angrier, apologized, cried to, and hugged my mom, cried even more, hugged even more while she and I had a major heart-to-heart only she and her daughters can have, had time for my eyes to puff down, discovered Jenny&Tyler, downloaded free songs from Jenny&Tyler, watched The Office, not only charged my itouch but also synced it with my new Jenny&Tyler music, prayed. All before school. It was beauts.
I know I don’t need to leave for school until 10am tomorrow, but I’m going to bed at 10pm anyway because I want to relive this morning again. Minus arguing with my mommy.
Being a student is the best! I get the longest breaks and vacations, random 3-day weekends, random come to school later than usual days, random end school earlier than usual days, etc. (The only thing that stings a little is how much I have to pay to be a student after high school. But I can’t really put a price on an experience, a professor, a class, a person I meet. And maybe I’ll die before I have to pay my loans, whoo!) I actually did stop saying “I hate school,” though. Now, I just say, “I hate high school.” But I think I’m taking that back too. I think high school is %$@#$^ WEIRD, but I don’t hate it. I’m just really really good at whining about anything and everything.
"I’m working on it." Yeah, yeah. Well, that failed. Obviously. Because I’m working on it. No wonder I’m failing! I have to “work” on letting God work in me.
I need a job! It hits me harder and harder just how much college costs.
When people complain about having work…the rage..
(It’s different when there are complaints about being exhausted, mean bosses, mean co-workers, etc.)
But…”F*CK WORK. FRIDAY 3-730? UGH F*CK” I’m sorry. You hate it? Quit. Then, give it to me. Or the 234234 other people trying to pay rent and loans! I’m sorry. You don’t want to quit because you want the money? Then ?!?!?!?
But I’m just being a hypocrite, aren’t I? Because at this very moment, I’m complaining. The plank’s in my eye!
If summer didn’t mean no school… If summer nights didn’t exist…
I think my weather wish would be no summer. Ohp. Alliteration. Heh.
So not that you care, but here’s some storytime. Get ready for some awesome English.
Story #1: AP English Literature and Composition Exam
I arrive at 7:31? 7:32? In the car ride, I daydream about everyone in my testing room having to wait for me and what I would say as an apology. So I’m a minute or two late, no big deal. Make it in time to be one of the last few in line entering the Career Center. Whew! Get to the lady, gasp, “Oh no! I forgot my I.D. card!” So this is my 6th AP, I’m a senior, I’ve done this before, I’m officially stupid. I’m definitely blushing, I feel terrible, and the lady goes, “Oh, no you didn’t. Don’t tell me you really forgot. Run to the office and get it printed. GO! RUN!” So I’m running. I’m wearing these stupid flats that make me scrunch my toes so they don’t fall off while I’m running. And I rarely wear those flats. What a good day to wear them. Anyway, I go to Mrs. Antista and I’m all, “I’m so sorry, I forgot my I.D. card for the exam.” And she’s all, “Why did you do that?” And I’m all, “I switched bags and forgot to bring it. I’m so sorry.” “You have to have it with you at all times!” “I know, I’ve never done this. I’m sorry.” “I’ve heard that excuse before.” (Okay, wow, Miss Tude. Just kidding, I’m an idiot. I deserve all the Tude the lady can give me.) Get it printed. Run to the Career Center. Proctor, “Oh, there she is!” “I’m sorry! I’ll buy you guys food, sorry!” The proctor sits me in the front center by her and next to C.J. Standley (haha) as my “punishment” (double haha). I see where I’m sitting, and there are no pencils because the proctor has passed them out while I was getting my stupid picture printed. By now, I realize that this cutie patootie, funny, intimidating lady is MRS. YAM! She asks if anyone has a cell phone. Guess who’s the only one who brings one. Yep, me. “I have it in my bag.” “Oh my gosh! Of course! Bring it over here!” “I’m sorry! I had no choice! I’m going somewhere after, I’m sorry!” Then she reads instructions and says, “Everyone should have an answer sheet, a student pack, and pencils. Who doesn’t have any of that?” I’m freaking out about the whole pencil thing since I’ve sat down. “I don’t have pencils..” “Oh, of course. *other muttering*” So basically, I’m a winner. And by winner, I mean idiot.
And if Story #1 wasn’t enough eloquent writing for you… Story #2: LA Asian Pacific Film Festival
So I go to the closing night film showing at the LA Asian Pacific Film Festival. I buy the ticket and the guy is all, “It’s $24 because it’s closing night and the after party’s included.” My friend and I are all, “Oh, we just want the movie ticket.” The guy goes on and is all, “Oh, well it comes with the after party so it’s $24 tonight. Just get it. It’s a lot of alcohol too. It’s worth it.” (So if you know me, you that argument’s going to really persuade me. And if you know me, you know I’m being sarcastic.) Friend asks me, “Should we just get it and watch the movie?” We come to the conclusion, “Sure! Why not?” Go see the movie (fun Chinese film called Love in Disguise). Go to the booth for wristbands to go to the “afterparty” to see if we can get some food at least, and the same guy who sells tickets is all, “Are you guys 21?” I just freeze. We say no because we’re not. He’s all, “Oh, you can’t go.”
Well, buddy, you should have thought about that when we said we just wanted the movie ticket!
We’re refunded the extra $14. Get I Love Boba instead. Boba>Booze!
(Quite a few people have asked me to post this so that they can reblog it, so here it is)
Anonymous asked: Do you think that Americans are just celebrating bin Laden’s death or are they rejoicing over something more? Because it definitely feels like we are celebrating something more than a killing. Also, the people saying they are ashamed of us for being happy… I don’t know.
I think we’re definitely celebrating something bigger. I never thought that I would have felt this way about bin Laden’s death, but I think Americans are so beaten down and so divided right now that we have finally found something that can bring us together in some weird way. I think that most of us felt that Osama bin Laden would never be captured, so in some way, this is a victory — even a bit of closure, although the wars are far from over.
Instead of giving a broad answer, I’ll speak personally about my feelings on this event. I don’t know anybody who died on 9/11 and my family and friends have not been closely affected by casualties from the various theaters of battle of the War On Terror. I have been very lucky in this manner, as I have been relatively untouched by the most horrific aspects of this war.
With that said, I was 21 years old on September 11, 2001. I was still hopeful and somewhat innocent and totally positive about the world before me. After that horrible day, my life changed — all of our lives changed. If you’re my age or older, you clearly recognize that the world was a far different place on September 12, 2001 than it was on September 10, 2001. As the months and years progressed, we saw real changes in our way of life. I think all of us became more cynical and defensive — that’s one of the effects of living in fear. What Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda aimed for on September 11, 2001 was incredibly successful. He was a terrorist and he made us live in terror. He proved that we weren’t out of his reach and, for almost 10 years, he got away with it. We crippled his organization and we put him on the run, but he got away for nearly a decade.
I’m not ashamed of being happy that Osama bin Laden is dead. I’m glad the man is dead, and I’m even more pleased that it was American soldiers who killed him. It wouldn’t have felt the same if he had died naturally. It wouldn’t have even felt the same if a unmanned Predator drone had killed him with a missile. Call it bloodthirsty or vengeful or inhumane, but I am glad that an American soldier put bullets in bin Laden’s head and ended his life. I have no shame for finding glory in this act of vengeance.
Osama bin Laden and his supporters changed our lives. He hurt us and he made our lives more difficult. It’s not just the inconvenience that he caused us by making it harder to get on airplanes, although that sucks, too. He made our lives uglier. We all got a closer look at death and fear and that worsened our way of living. He forced us to throw up roadblocks and obstacles in front of some of our most beautiful landmarks. He changed the way we enjoy tourist attractions or attend sporting events. Osama bin Laden made our lives worse, so I have no regrets in celebrating the fact that we ended his life.
I know — just like you all know — that bin Laden’s death does not end any of the wars. It doesn’t bring back the nearly 3,000 people who died on 9/11. It doesn’t bring back the people who died in the first World Trade Center bombing or the embassies in Kenya and Tanzania or the USS Cole or Khobar Towers or Bali or London or Madrid. It doesn’t numb the pain from the loss of a single U.S. soldier. It doesn’t fix anything, but it eliminates Osama bin Laden.
People often say that there is nothing good about an eye-for-an-eye. I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think there are any true solutions that come from an eye-for-an-eye, but there is certainly a sense of justice. I’m glad that bin Laden is dead; I’m even happier that we killed him.
(I give up on trying to organize my thoughts. I’m sure this is super beneficial in life and communication, I know.) I do always speak too early. I never argue my own thoughts and speak too early. However, I just find myself making circles with what I feel about bin Laden’s death. I still can’t be happy over someone’s death if he/she doesn’t go to heaven. (And nothing I’ve stated really gives away what I feel about bin Laden. All I’ve said is that I can’t rejoice in one’s death if that death isn’t a doorway to heaven.) But does it matter? Not really. Because America (I’m going to start generalizing from here, sorry) has some victory, some closure, some justice, etc. So it doesn’t really matter if I’m conflicted inside, does it? Whether or not I’m glad about it, May 1, 2011 will still be a victorious date for America. Huge influence on elections. Obama>Osama. And it goes on. And here I am with no conclusion for the self on bin Laden. Again. But again, does it really matter?
For me, one death matters most. Yes, I’m referring to Jesus. He died for bin Laden, for the thousands lost on 9/11, for people celebrating bin Laden’s death, for conflicted people who don’t know what to feel about bin Laden’s death, for people rejecting expected patriotic attitudes, for stupid sinner me. So I guess the only thing I can conclude for myself is that this death matters. The instant justification on the cross matters. My falling in love with God, as well as the following sanctification, matters. And I’ll just do my best and take it day by day from here.
We just never disappoint when it comes to disappointment! Haha, I’m unintelligent and cheesy. Unfortunate combination.
Anyway, the disappointment, the sadness, the whyarewe frustration. Makes me hope in God all the more. Makes me joyful to know the Prince of Peace all the more. Makes me muy desperate for Jesus’ full glory to be shown all the more.
My thoughts are like chicken poop in my mind. Plop. Plop. Plop plop. Plop.
It’s weird that I woke up today and didn’t even think to expect something might happen that would make May 1 a significant date. I now understand why many good writers’ writings are on the lengthier side. How would they be content with presenting their thoughts to readers without articulating what they want as best they could? I think it’s funny and frustrating when something said triggers a defensiveness in someone else when what was said wasn’t on the attack. (This sentence, too, is triggered by defense against a non-attack.) I lost my temper and yelled at my dad. I’m a bad daughter. He still loves me. So I’m a really bad daughter. I don’t know why I title these things. Titles are supposed to be somewhat of a, “Hey! This is letting you know what you’re about to read is about!” But my titles are like the first domino. Just triggers other thoughts, and I go off on tangents. Is trigger my word of the day or something? Everything I wrote is about mememe. I’m so self-centered.
Lord, today I sang to you, “Christ, be the center of my life. Be the place I fix my eyes. Be the center of my life,” repeatedly. What’s stopping You from being that in my life? All day, I had no problem thinking and talking about myself and pointing at everyone and everything. But when I want the reason for this chasm in our relationship, what happens? My finger freezes. Because I know that if it moves, it’ll point to me. I’m disgusted at myself. So I’m going to unfreeze my finger. I admit, I’m what’s stopping You from being my center, my everything.
And this is where things turn around. I can either keep pointing at myself, still being self-centered and, therefore, hopeless OR I can take joy in the good news! Jesus, you took my shame upon that cross. Jesus, you took my shame upon that cross. Jesus, you took my shame upon that cross. Jesus, you took my shame upon that cross. And died. And rose again! So that I can live for YOU! So that I can live for YOU! So that I can live for YOU!
So this is what love is!! To love not looking at yourself because you’re too busy looking to the one you love.