i'm wary of new year's resolutions like i'm wary of promises.

-D*sire

Bits and Pieces

A few random tidbits from the evening spent with my best friend who's been my best friend since... well... ever. She and I have been best friends ever since sixth grade and even before.

Even though I always drag my feet going, I'm never sorry I went.

It's so easy to fall back into old times. I mean.. we went from scrawny unsure kids into full blown legal drinking adults together!

We've both changed but not so much that we lose that common background and shared connection.

She's still the same crazy 6th grader that put on the show with "Nancy" and "George" in Hotel California and the same girl that put my makeup on for prom sitting at her wobbly kitchen table and the same girl that calls me late at night in my dorm room to talk about all kinds of things.

However, I always end up the listener and watcher (and that's true across the board in most of my conversations). And while I let that happen, I come out of it feeling that I missed something. I wonder when I'll meet someone that doesn't leave me feeling that small bit of empty after talking to them (ie being talked at).

I really do enjoy a good conversation. I love finding out what's going on inside other people's heads. I love sifting through all kinds of overflow of their mind and being surprised at finding something that I have in mine or something that's so different from me that I would have never dreamed it into existence.

-D*sire

Rachel's Psalm

Let me begin by saying this is not mine, although it'd be awesome if it were. I really like it, so I thought I'd share it with you. Give it a ponder.

A wandering heart within me dwells,
Apt to gaze afar from Thee.
Lascivious want builds and wells,
To steer this ship from Calvary.

Far off course, tossed by waves
This vessel battered by trials.
Apathy replaces former craves,
Acceptance replaced by denials.

O bright Star, guide my path
Lead me not out to sea.
O Compass of my staff,
Rein this ship back to Thee.

For I cannot bear this solace,
Hell apart from Thy presence.
Emptiness, greed, envy and malice
This migrant rewards as presents.

I want to long after You,
I feel You oh so near.
But this world confuses what’s true
With lies my flesh holds dear.

My thoughts scatter from your Word
And embrace the sordid and sundry.
I forget that which I had heard
To be left in this desolate quandary.

As You promised, forsake me not
Though I so willingly fall awry.
Though Thy truths my heart forgot,
Leave me not in sin to die.

For Thou hast given Thine self as man
Crucified for no crime of Thine own.
That I may one day before You stand
As untarnished as Your throne.

How undeserving and wretched am I,
How depraved and vile.
To audaciously scorn and deny
This gift so unselfish and worthwhile.

How do I reconcile this conflict within?
Oh, my heart cries out in despair!
The more I seek you, the more I see sin!
Oh, save me from this devilish snare!

I yearn to be formed into a woman of You
and fulfill the desires of Your heart.
Yet the further I delve into this Truth
The further from it I seem to depart.

Why must I wander? Why must I stray?
My true self desires to conform!
Yet the world is overbearing my heart each day
Casting this ship into the storm.


-D*sire

Memery Lain

HAHA. So.... I was going through old stuff, looking for something. But, as is always the case, I got distracted but all the other stuff in my "keep" stashes... So here's a story that I wrote when I was little. I don't know how old I was, but I was young enough to misspell stuff--maybe 2nd grade....
okay, just found a date: 1996. I'd have been 9. That's probably 4th grade. So I apparently sucked at spelling far longer than I thought. Annnnnyways, here's the story (wish you could see the scratchy unsteady concentrated handwriting, but you'll just have to imagine).

Eleven-year-old Monica Miller was going to be the worlds best detective when she grew up. Her neighbor, Ms. Mishane was in her 60's. She said that getting an erly start on life was importent. At first Monica didn't know what this meant. She was only 7 when Ms. Mishane said this. Every night before Monica went to the sleep she would think about what that meant untill she finally figured it out. From that day on she was called NICA THE SPY. Nica was a nickname her friend Sandra Casey called her. Sandra wanted to be a docter when she grew up. Now Nica had already filled up ten notebooks. Nica every day after school would go on her spy rootine. Her spy rootine went this this. First the market. Then the fish store. Then the dairy and the meat store. Last but definitly not least 34th street. There were nine hoses to spy on. Nica's favorite house was old Mrs. Sadie's house. She had servents and money. people say she steels the money from banks and stuff. There was always something going on there. That's why Nica likes it so much.

And that is the unfinished story of Nica the Spy--forever lost in the mind of a fourth grader. Haha. You probably didn't get as much enjoyment from that as I did; however, it made me laugh, so I decided to share it with you.

Note: This was the year I was Harriet the Spy for Halloween. ☺

-D*sire

Why is it that I feel like I'm invincible and independent... until I get sick? Then all I want to do is go home and be babied by my mommy. Haha.

Post script:
Being sick sucks.

-D*sire

A Message

I just want to say thank you.
This is rather random but i wanted to say thanks because I don't always think I say it enough to the people who deserve it. When you're too busy trying to make sure that everyone's happy, you forget that those same people are the reason you run back to TBPW after some really really boring classes.
So thanks. I don't want to say bye yet, but i know that it's coming soon. It coming up in conversation and silences our once nostalgic faces, smiling in remembrance of some past joke or story. And then I tell Anh that she can come to the Death Cab concert next year, and we both go silent...
I can't handle that. I don't want to either.
So thanks you all for being you, and I know you don't all have blogs but I really love my roommates so much! And Kim, oh Kim, just being herself is everything that makes me smile and laugh.
Samwise, my dear hobbity friend (don't tell I said that or she'll get mad!), she will always be like the real Sam, always there, strong and yet funny and always smiling.
Bich, haha she is so giving. The most generous person I know.
And yes, Peter counts too as one of 'em! If you don't know him, you better because he is so very nice! (and i might add, has great taste in music, from my biased opinion)
Cheryl, my artsy and enigmatic friend, I will always want to know more about you and wish you could show the world it through film.
And Kristen, one of the strongest people I've ever met, YES you are AWESOME!, I hope that we will always be pretty much roomies no matter what kind of telepathy people insinuate is present!
And Anh, oh Anh, you are so sweet and just adorable! I wish you could stay longer and keep us all smiling!
And Allison, so bubbly! you are wonderful and I'm glad when you come over. You never let anything keep you down, ever. I'm watching out for you because I care! (and I won't get worried! I promise!)
To Brian, my friend who is the best editor in the DFW area, thank you for reading my papers and tolerating my presence since sophomore year! Seriously, thanks.
And Don, who is always willing to do anything to make someone happy, you are the bomb! I hope you get to greet the world with your caring attitude!
And even Quanny-Quan, you are cool. Outspoken, but cool. You are great and an awesome addition to the upstairs apartment and to its fridge. hehe Your arguing, although frustrating at times, reminds me of debates that I enjoy at home with my dad. so thanks. And no, you're really not as bad as we all joke about you being, sometimes. maybe. no really I'm kidding again.

Just because I'm always trying to be nice doesn't mean that what I say isn't any less true.

I love you all.

-JChoc, yo =)

Subtleties

Okay... So.
Death Cab/Snow Patrol concert.
Awesome.

That sums it up nicely.

But besides that. I was sitting there next to Cheryl and Jamella who were screaming and writhing in their seats and I was thinking about things.
I express my happiness differently than others. I was real quiet and still--smile unable to leave my face. Very intent upon the stage. I was taking it all in--like I was grabbing all the sights and the sounds and shoving them in so I could hang on to all of them. But it must have looked like I was bored or not having a good time to outsiders. Which is the complete opposite of reality. It was SO awesome. Still, if I think about it or trying to describe it, I just get real still and a genuine smile creeps up.
I've always been bothered by something that people do while watching movies (in particular my best friend). She'll react viscerally to everything that happens. So if there's a make-you-jump part she'll always jump and sometimes grab onto things. It's hard to explain why it bothers me. Cuz what I just described doesn't capture it. But it's that sort of thing. She gets really into it. She'll worry about them falling or getting caught by the bad guys. I'll hear gasps and see her tensing up. While I just sit and take it all in--very detached like.
I think this is the same sort of thing. I guess I detach everything but my eyes/ears and brain and just soak it all in to mull it over. And when other people don't turn off the other things, it bothers me (but, just to clarify: Jam and Cheryl did not bother me last night, that comment was more directed towards my best friend's antics). And from the outside my manner seems to indicate apathy or boredom. But it's the smile and the eyes that'll give it away. This is a different smile than my polite I-AM-bored-but-I-don't-want-to-make-you-feel-bad smile.

The truth is in the sublteties.

D*sire

It's ironic how the less of something you have/get the more valuable it is, the more you want it, the more you get of it (if you can), the less valuable it becomes to you, the less you want of it/the more trite and commonplace it becomes. A vicious cycle of never being content.

D*sire

Daddy Moments

My dad's not a touchy feely kinda person. We never really talk or talked when I was growing up. He doesn't ask me about my life for the most part. When we're together, we coexist fairly amicably, but we don't have conversations about the depths of philosophy, or about much of anything to be perfectly frank.

However, there are those "daddy moments" when we do something together-a special connection that are unique and something I treasure so much. For example, when he got a new piece of stereo equipment he'd come knock on my door (well, he doesn't really knock, just kinda opens it--but it sticks enough for me to have ampl warning haha) and he'll be like, "Come listen to this." And even though there's not much emotion in it, I can tell that he's excited about his new toy and wants to show it off. He'll put on my favorite cd from growing up: Kenny Loggins "Return to Pooh Corner" and we'd sit in the dark and listen.

Occaisionally he'll talk-something'll spark a memory and he'll tell me about something that happened to him. But they have to be unprompted and spontaneous. Those are priceless little nuggets.

Today, we had another one. He comes in the kitchen this morning while my mom is starting the Thanksgiving preparations and is like, "I wanna make biscuits." And my mom said, "Why don't you wait til tomorrow when the kitchen's free?" But he wanted to make them today. Now, you must understand that my dad is not the cook of the family. The only thing he makes is egg McMuffins on Sundays after church. So he had to wait til the pumpkin pie was out of the oven and then he came to find me in my room, which I wasn't in. I found him in the hallway though, right outside my room and was like, "I can help you." And he said, "Yes you are helping me." Haha.
He was so lost in the kitchen. "Where's this?" "Where's that?" "How do I cut the shortening in to the flour?" "What's it supposed to look like?" Haha. He was so funny. So I was in the kitchen reading him the recipe and telling him where stuff was and how to do different things. It was so cute.

One of the spontaneous Daddy moments--priceless and treasured. *warm fuzzies*

D*sire

(insert title here)

So, I'm studying in this room with Brian and we are talking about blogs. So now I am gonna write one!
I told him that I really liked his blog regarding jiu-jitsu (I hope I spelled that right!). He talked so much about how much he liked it. And I think that's cool. I like when people do things that they love. Like people who really like chess and think about moves that they would use in a future game. Or people who love sports so much that they look like it. Man, I love that. Like those Gatorade commercials where the athletes start to sweat different colors and have this mean mugging look like they are going to bite someone's face off. But they keep it on the court, like a real athlete should. I wish that everyone could just do what they want and like it. I wish that everyone had that burning feeling they get when they got lost in what they are doing. Like when piano players start to wrinkle their faces and sway when the music takes them. Man, that's cool. Now I know that everybody says you have to do what the world tells you to do and such, but I just want to put it out there. And, also, I respect people who do that. Who do what they want. But I know you can't. Eh well.
And I wish the people who sympathise with me on this one could hear it.

"Limit to Your Love"

So I was listening to Feist's "Limit to Your Love" and I started tearing up a little bit. I still have a lump in my throat, and I'm still not sure why it's there.

Here's a link to a good live version:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QyifHsGAwnI

I hope you have good day, oh reader =)

-jchoc

In response to "I'm Never Sorry I Met You"

However, there's a fine line between healthy self confidence and annoying cockiness. And most people (or those that I know) tend to err on the side of too little rather than too much.

You never see yourself the same way that others see you. I can tell you til I'm blue in the face that you're a beautiful, amazing person (and it is the utter truth)

But when you say the same to me, it's really hard to believe you.

Because when it comes to me, there are things about me that you just don't know.

And I can't afford to be wrong about me, whereas I can about you (which is not to by any means negate the above mentioned claim about you--this is just a principle issue). Although I suppose that's just a defense mechanism; however, it's one that I cannot change. I don't know if I need to.

I think a good dose of humbleness would do us (and our nation) a bit of good--a good dose of reality and where we stand in relation to it and to God and to each other.

As I said initially, a balance between confidence and cockiness.

I'm never sorry that I've met you

Self-esteem issues really suck.

There.

And not just mine, but others.
Others who think that they are not beautiful.
Others who think any real man/woman would never fall for them.
Others who think that they are too fat or too skinny and need to lose weight.
Those who think that they have to base themselves to get friends or boys/girls not worth having.
Those who believe that Love could never truly exist.
Those who want to believe it, but are too afraid to try. (I know, I do it too.)
Those who don't think that anyone takes notice of who they for who they are.

People who want to hold onto what they know, even when it hurts, instead of taking a step forward and TRUSTING that what is out there can't be all that bad.

Yeah, those are whom I mean.

I write this because I know these fears too, but I also hear them from others who have the same type of battles.

I wish I could be more eloquent,
but I want you to hear it anyway.

-Jchoc

Okay again

I should be making notes for an exam, but I just want to add to my dear buddy's post regarding her conversation with our God Almighty.
Sometimes man, it's so hard to wait on God because our humanness gets in the way of His plan. I can't always understand how He could choose me for any part of His plan when I get so impatient waiting. It's like a little kid who gets one simple speaking part in a school play, and all the little boy can think about is when his part is going to come. He keep asking the teacher, "Do I say it now? How about now? When is my turn? What am I supposed to do again?" And yes, that's me. In relationships, a future career, becoming mature both emotionally and spiritually. All of that. Sometimes I want to talk to God about it just one. more. time. but then I think, He's probably up to here (place hand slightly below top of head for visual example) with me. And then I remember that I'm not even worthy to BE in this huge, spiritually, all-encompassing "play" (to continue the metaphor). That one gets me. BUT THEN it comes back that God wants me here anyway. He picked me not because I was worth it according to my standards, but because of I was worth it according to HIS Love. Man, now THAT one gets me.
Ugh. Being a Christian isn't just "angels and fluffy clouds". It's a pretty tough road, and that's why the road is so narrow.

This just happened

So I just had a great time at Wally-World.
For some reason, I felt like I was remembering a feeling that I had had before but somehow lost in the urgency and busyness of life. It felt absolutely comfortable. I don't know how I can get it back, or even if it will stay. Just saying that it was definitely there.
I hope happiness is something that I don't have to keep on chasing...

Talking with God--Y'all can eavesdrop if you want

God,

I’m just gonna be real with you—I want someone.

I want someone that will hold me in his arms.
I want someone that will fight me when I need comfort and don’t want it.
I want someone that will let me complain to him and not think any less of me for being petty.
I want someone that will argue with me (tactfully) and not get walked all over.
I want someone that will lean in close to check my temperature.
I want someone that will build the drum roll.
I want someone that will love You with an intense passion.
I want someone in whom I can fall in love with You.
I want someone who will bear with me watching the same things over and over and forgetting things just as often
I want someone to try new things with but also to enjoy the quietness of the familiar.
I want someone that will watch over me, that I know will be a strong sure presence in my life—on whom I can lean
But I want someone that I don’t put in Your place, but rather who brings me to the place where You are—and where I need to be.

And as difficult as it is, I’m going to try and wait as best as I can until You say the time is right, because You always know so much better than I do, even though I don’t always realize it at the time.

*sigh*
But it’s sure hard.

-D*sire-

I just realized that I really only think alot when I'm exceptionally stressed. So while I'm nice and happy and chill right now, it doesn't ever produce much creative product.

So it's a toss up:
I'm happy when I'm relaxed but I'm creating when I'm not.

-D*sire-

The Atlantic Was Born Today...

This is the (insert pseudonym here) portion of the blog!
I really don’t know what to write, so I am going to base this off of numerous blogs I’ve browsed over the internet when I should have been researching for my next term paper. So my day went like…

Nahh forget it.

Something about the way blogs work confuses me. I guess I sometimes wonder why we feel the need to write these in the first place. Perhaps it is just a way for us to reach out to people actually interested in what we have to say. We all have the need for that (if you don’t feel this way, then you’re not human!!). Maybe sometimes it’s cool to have somebody on the same wavelength as yourself.

I know I do.

I ramble half the time (like right now), but it’s neat when somebody actually thinks you make a great point. It’s like, “Hey don’t worry you’re not crazy, I also think that blah blah blah (insert important conspirator info here)” Well, not like that.

(THAT was rambling.)

...Okay, now you think I’m nuts.

But no seriously, the main point is that it’s wonderfully amazing to find people that actually “get where you’re coming from”. For instance, this morning I came in late for something and felt extremely awkward for causing an interruption. I sat down, and wondered, “Why is it embarrassing to stumble into people’s conversations and meetings? Is there some type of uninterrupted wavelength to which people attune themselves when together?”

Perhaps there is...

I know that it’s always a relief when something you are trying to say is truly understood by someone else. It’s that human connection, I guess, if that’s what you want to call it. Politeness, an engaging exchange of dialogue, and finishing each other’s sentences, are all beautiful aspects of the human experience. (woot!) Hey, I guess it even makes sense now that two people are making this blog. (I hope you get all the imagery!) We both contribute and hopefully have a creative coalescence of understanding.

Human beings, connecting and coexisting, learning from and understanding each other, and spreading that one Love, that’s what is important.

Not this other stuff that seems to pull us apart like indifference, competition, and pride (those aren't too cool for everybody else)

Sometimes we just need people so much closer.

Nothing Earth-Shattering About Masks

I feel like the first post should be something spectacular, insightful, and earth-shattering.
However
If that were the case, then nothing would ever get posted and thus this blog would be worthless.

So
I'm just gonna jump into it with something that I was thinking about (and that Jamella and I were actually talking about a little).

I hate it that we all have this "mold" that we're expected to fit--specific "masks" that we are supposed to wear: for our parents, for our friends, in the church, in front of strangers. And, as a mask is supposed to do, they hide who you really are. And that frustrates me. I feel like I'm being shoved into a mold that I don't fit into, both by pressure from others and self imposed pressure to be who I think they want me to be. But does anyone really care? Am I forcing myself into a mold under false pretenses?

I do think to a certain extent that people have these paradigms set up in their heads and certain people are supposed to be certain things. And while you may not consciously think about it, you definitely do notice if someone steps outside of that paradigm.

I guess the majority of this is my own doing and my own fault--caring too much what others think. But I DO care and I'm not brave enough to shatter the norms (nor do I want to).

Another reason we hide is that we don't want to be vulnerable. But at the same time, if we never connect to others, what's the point in living with and among people? It's such a fine line of opening yourself up without being clingy, of being real but not comfortable in this feeling of vulnerability.

So where does that leave us? Wearing masks that don't fit of characters we aren't (or aren't fully or aren't anymore), wanting desperately to connect but not being able to open that door.

-D*sire-