At times like this...

I can't stand when people tell me it's all in God's plan.

If God's plan involves killing innocent babies and devastating families then fuck that.

where did i go?

i am an actor. i don't want to be. i try, and fail. i work hard, and still mess up. i hate it. not only do i mess up, but after i mess up i feel worse because i am not fulfilling the role i should be. i am tired of acting. i mess up, but i try. i don't like the way i live right now. here is the result of society today - you are supressed, but your role is exalted. where did we go? our emotions are not our own, our words are not our own, our actions are not our own anymore. we have become an actor - possibly the best actor in the world. our stage is earth and the cameras are the millions of eyes staring at us throughout each and every day. each set of eyes, a director, critiquing your every move. checking to see how well you fulfill their wishes. we belong to them - to the eyes. we do as we are told. live as they want us to. we own nothing but thoughts - thoughts of redmeption. thoughts of liberation from this play. thoughts of jumping off the stage and running down the aisle past empty faces staring blankly at the stage, because it's their role, and bursting through the double doors barring light from entering the shadows of this life. the light bursts in. it explodes through the theatre, shattering the darkness. the air fills your nose. you breathe the fresh air of freedom. sounds of birds and the bustle of the city excites your ears. they sing sweetly - sweeter than you have ever known. your senses are overwhelmed. you feel. you honestly and passionately feel. you run up and down the aisles screaming at people. "FEEL! UNDERSTAND THE WORLD THROUGH YOUR SENSES!" but they are silent. they sit, motionless, dead. "WHY?" you scream. "why must you be numbed by the piercing gaze of society? why must they direct your life?" no answer. still they remain. dead. their breathing synchronized like robots programmed this way. they do not understand emotion unless they are told they can feel it. numb. that's all they are. they simply exist. until called upon to act their role, they remain stagnant. society is stagnant. full of people afraid of stepping outside the boundaries of society. so they remain in this darkened state of slience. not feeling. not living. just existing. "LIVE!" you scream. "WAKE UP AND FEEL!" its only then can they understand life as it should be. leave their rules. leave their expectations. then they can live. but for now, they die. they die every time they conform. it is the suicide of individuality. conformity to society is suicide of individuality. the blank faces say, "but there is pain outside. there is hurting. there is insecurity." and they choose to be numb. avoid pain and everything with it. choose. as for me, i will walk out the doors. and become to you only a sillhouette of a man as i enter into a world of sensations. i want to feel. i want to hurt. i want to understand sadness. i want to be in agony. because only then will i know i am alive. because only then will i be able to understand how to love and laugh and passionately live. without struggle there can be no redemption. without pain there can be no healing. without rejection there can be no individuality. that word - individuality. me. conformity says there is only us. individuality says, no, there is me. i am here. i am separate. i want to be myself. choose. either sacrifice the ability to express, feel, and grow for acceptance and to fit in. or join me in leaving everything we have been told by society - in the search and the quest to find yourself - in taking back our own lives. one by one we can change. one by one we can awaken the sleeping souls of those captured by conformity until feeling is restored. this is my rant. take it or leave it. join me or ridicule me. i have chosen to not care what you think. i live my life. no more acting, no more pleasing. just me.

in case this needs clarification, i love Jesus. this is why His name is the only proper noun i capitalized. i don't even capitalize my own name. possibly some form of self-loathing. it's because i mess up. i want to live for Jesus, because he saved me and loves me so much. and i am tired of hiding my mistakes. swearing, lying, laughing at jokes i shouldn't - yes, i do it sometimes. i am sorry. i don't like it, but it happens. i know Jesus still loves me, but the hard part is that i don't know what people would if they knew about it. this little bit of writing is my declaration that no matter how hard it is, i am going to be myself. i will love Jesus, i will try to do right, i will work on my flaws, but i will not hide them. i am an open book. and i hope the story you read will point to Jesus, and though there will be mistakes, i hope it becomes a story you want to write on your own.

i've got the power...or do i?

True or false: true power is held in authority. In the mind of the unquestioning person the answer is true. However, I hold to the opposite side of this argument because of many facts, observations, and logical ideas, which I will expand on in this essay, that point power away from authority. I have resolved that true power is held by the majority of the population, and not by authority.
If a government has no people following it, what power does it hold? Who does it have power over? With no people to support a ruling body, it will crumble and fall, because people are the foundation of all government. If a group of people turns on its leaders then the power of the government is lost and often a revolt will occur. It is true that most revolts are not effective in removing the current government and replacing it with a new one. That may be correct, but all revolts inevitably instigate change. The power of the people is proven and puts fear into the government. Without change it will be overthrown. Take the American Revolution as an example. With the British king heavily taxing English citizens in America and persecuting them, the Americans revolt. The government in England cannot stand up to the armed forces of its citizens. Who held the power in the American Revolution? Was it held by the government or by the people "under the control" of the government? Now we have the American Army to enforce the laws of the government and to force the people to be submissive. Correct, but are not the members of the army a portion of the population also? They pay taxes, follow the laws of the government, and elect the leaders. If they are not happy with the government, then they have just as much right to turn on it as any other person does.
Many people believe the Constitution has established an indestructible hold on the power of the government. The Constitution is supreme and should be followed. However, the Constitution has been changed many times already to address new issues encountered in the developing world. What is one more change to give power to the people? If the Constitution must be followed in order to prevent the destruction then it should be followed, but not blindly and not without changes.
This is not anarchy. Anarchy is the absence of a government, and is characterized by lawlessness. This is the idea that, while a government is necessary to make laws and maintain foreign relations, the people have the power to overthrow the current government and implement a new one as is needed. Anarchy would be a country with no leader; this is a country with a leader chosen by the people but holding ephemeral power.
Is power held in authority? I am resolved that it is not based on the fact that a small body of people will never be more powerful than a larger one, no matter what titles they are given to show that they have "power." Society of the present and of past shows that majority will always be stronger than authority.

evolution? how should i know?

so get this: i am in hawaii on the beach and all i can think about is how to refute evolution. what is my problem? but here’s why - tiny shells. yeah, that’s what i am thinking about. shells smaller than my fingernail. but here’s the thing: i was looking at the tiny shells and they all are so amazingly designed. they are covered with ridges, spirals, and bumps and are all colored uniquely and brightly. each spiral fit perfectly into a pointy little tip; each bump was colored differently than the shell. everything about them screamed "I WAS DESIGNED!" there’s no way millions of year could ever create anything so intricate. especially something so precise and tiny. did this one little cell grow and twist into a perfect spiral like evolutionists believe. or did all the shells grow into the perfect shape to house the tiny organism without the aid of a creator. even the intricate animal that used to inhabit this house refutes the theory that it just happened on its own. intelligent design. i am not saying God made everything and i can find that out just from this little shell. i am saying there has to have been some type of designer - a creator - an illustrator. the same illustrator who paints the sky beautiful colors every night. the same creator who shaped the magnificent landscape i am surrounded by. the same designer who made the brightest and most brilliant fish i have ever seen. how can people deny a creator? unintelligence cannot create something aesthetically appealing. unintelligence cannot create life. life cannot come from non-life. it just doesn’t make sense to me. if it doesn’t make sense for a tiny little shell to have been created by evolutionary processes, how am i supposed to accept that everything in the entire universe came from it. it doesn’t sit right with me. here’s the other thing, if you do believe that all of this came from God or a Designer, think of how powerful he is. it would take me hours to mold anything into the shape of some of the shells i saw. and to be able to perfectly shape shells so small i can barely see them would be impossible for me. but He did it perfectly and flawlessly, but that’s not the most amazing part. the most amazing part is that he created it with his mouth. he spoke and there it was. that little shell was created by God in less than a second. he spoke, it appeared. and it appeared perfect and beautiful. but not only did that one shell appeared, but every shell on every beach everywhere in the world. in the little space in front of my mat i found at least 200 tiny little shells. those shells covered the entire beach. can you imagine the millions and millions of shells created by a couple words from the mouth of God. the mouth of a God Almighty. he spoke millions of shells into existence within seconds. he created all that we will ever see, experience or know without even lifting a finger. this entire world and everything in it was nothing for Him. he created it without any work. it was like nothing for him to construct a universe. and as i hold that little shell in my hand, i have to realize that the God who created every single thing around me still knows me. still cares about me. could kill with just a single thought, yet he doesn’t. i deserve to be killed, i don’t deserve a single breath in this perfect creation he has made, and yet he lets me enjoy it, take it all in. why? because he loves me. that’s why. because he loves his creation. he loved the little animal who used to inhabit this shell and specially created this animal to fit into this shell. i am so small compared to Him. i am miniscule. anything i could ever do would not even compare to what God can do. so to Him i say thanks. thanks for giving me a chance. thanks for specially creating me. thanks for the world he has given me to look at and stand in awe of. He is mighty. i am nothing. this little shell, no longer filled with life, shouts out to the world "GOD IS HUGE AND MADE EVERYTHING AROUND YOU!" all we have to do i stop and be quiet anough to listen to it.

Psalm 46:10a - "be still and know that I am God"

the great battle within

a complex of mind and flesh - a great war between the mental and the physical rages throughout the body. it is covered in deception, lies, trickery. it destroys the battleground on which the unending clash takes place. one side battles against a reality the other has created. the mind creates what it believes to be truth and then puts all its faith in that idea; the body tries to counter it. the mind feasts and feels gluttonous, overwhelmed by food - the body starves. their mind takes over. it convinces the body that the stomach is expanding, that it is stretched beyond what it can bear and will soon burst into tiny pieces of flesh and sizzling drops of acid, when in reality the stomach is shrivelling, soon to be nothing but useless tissue. the mind expands its dominance. thoughts of obesity, ridicule, and dissatisfaction are shaped into bombs and dropped on the truth to destroy it. truth no longer matters. it never mattered. all that matters now is an idea. a fear. a fallacy of enormous size that grows larger by day to the point where soon it will be unconquerable. a lie so big no army on the face of the earth - or army of people to be discovered on other planets - or the combination of both - would ever be able to bring it to submission. the body stumbles. it is losing the battle. it is growing weak. you can sit there and watch it die. and thats all you do, you watch. you find excuses to not say anything. its like a horrible drama unfolding inside their body and all you do is watch it. you cry. you get angry. you think of things to say, but never say them. another step, another stumble, another step, another stumble. you watch it grow weak in front of your very eyes. all you see is a wounded body - wounded by its own mind. an unintentional suicide, the inevitable end. the body is weak. the body is wounded. all from one thought, one twisted perception of how valuable life is. the idea is killing it. a battle leading to surrender leading to imprisonment and torture leading to weakness leading to death. the first four accomplished, all thats left is to die. and still, i watch.

hear me

i wait.
i have been waiting so long to watch absolutely nothing happen.
and yet here i sit, waiting?
how do i still hold on to this hope?
a hope that something i cannot see or hear or touch will come and save me.
so many nights i feel as though i have talked to air.
so many nights i have poured out my heart only to awaken to another day just that same.
how long do i have to wait until something happens.
i wait and i wait and i wait for nothing.
no signs of help.
not even the faintest glimmer of hope that it is going to be okay, like i tell myself.
instead, it gets worse.
every day it gets worse.
i cry louder and louder only to hear the echoes bounce off empty walls.
it's only me and the air here.
i wait in pain.
i wait in sadness.
i wait in agony.
i dont even know what for.
but still i wait.
i try to convince myself that somewhere in this vast empty universe there are ears -
ears that hear my never ending pleas.
and some day those ears will carry my words into a head where they will resound.
and then something, anything.
a change. some help. a hand.
i sit here waiting for invisible ears to hear my cry.
for an invisible hand to come lift me up.
am i mad?
so long i have waited and cried out to something i don't even know is there.
so long i have held on to this hope that there is something more than this
even when i cannot even sense to the slightest degree that it's there.
is this madness?
if madness it is, then i choose madness.
for this madness brings me hope.
i would rather be mad with hope than living in a world that means nothing.
for it would be worse to be sane in a world that brings pain
than to be mad in a world covered by hope.

so for now, i choose madness -
a madness with hope that someday these words will no longer echo off barren walls to return to my ears empty, but that they will fall on ears that care enough to come and help me.

i want to be alive

i sit and ponder. nothing life changing - merely fantasy. fantasy: the opposite of my current reality. that is sitting in captivity with a man droning on about numbers and words meaningless to me. his voice is the background music of my thoughts. everytime i look up his hand has crafted more lines and symbols that actually mean something to him. but only to him. to me they are as boring and tiresome as if he were speaking another language. so what am i doing here? is this my choice? no. then why do i follow the mold others have so unforgivingly jammed me into. this is not me. in this room i have no purpose, no life, no soul. in this room i am nothing. the bodies around me, lifeless, but for the few who speak the strange language of the man. all i can see are lifeless bodies. and not even this, for as i am in the back, all i can see are melodramatic ovals attempting to maintain an upright state to avoid slumber. ovals with hair, that is all they are to me. slowly drooping; slowly loosing life. my mind wanders. the qualities of the room intrigue me. why are the tiles all different? was it part of some modern design or simply a mistake by a careless manufacturer? the man's voice drones on unmelodically in my ears. he is now interesting, but not in his words. rather the motion of his face is curious to me. how does it move? i rub my own face and realize i havent shaved in a couple days and that the stubble is starting to become soft. finally. another noise. a scream in the hallway. not just any scream. it is a beautiful one. raw and unpolished. full of fear and chaos. could it be that i have just felt a small bit of life? the screams intensify and is joined by more until a full chorus of screaming demons has arisen. a rhythm section joins the chorus. short bursts of rapid explosions give a beat to the song of chaos. my heart pounds in my chest like the drums of war beating to awaken the troops and prepare them for something more. adrenaline bursts through my veins. they feel as if they will explode if more is pumped in. i feel. i feel. the man shouts commands, but as before, his words mean nothing to his audience. the people...they become animated. it is fascinating to watch. some break down in tears or screams. others become ghastly white. still others drop to their knees and pray to the sky. my blood flows quickly now as the blasts grow closer and closer. the audience makes futile attempts to hide behind objects half the size of their bodies. some run in fear. i sit motionless. the window darkens as a figure approaches and an eye peers in. has this man come to save me? the handle screams as though it is a warning to all that danger is trying to enter. as it twists and pops open the figure bursts in with all the fury of hell. no longer is there yelling; no longer is there crying. everyone has stopped breathing. the room is silent. fear has taken control. time feels as though it has stopped for everyone, but the figure. everyone's eyes, transfixed on the invader, are full of fear. i sit motionless. i study the figure. his long, sleek overcoat conceals his attire underneath. all that is visible are the black standard army boots on his feet, the mask concealing his face, and his black cap. his long hair creates a bulge in the back of his head covering. in his hand is his message. a black pistol. cold, steel with intent to kill. a small piece of metal powerful enough to take life away. his arm raises and swings wildly around the room. it passes me once then slowly returns. i sit motionless. i can see down the barrel to the vessel about to become my demise, but i feel no fear. what have i that he can take from me? i have no purpose, no life, no soul. he comes to steal life, i have no life to steal. his mission is futile. i move. slowly i push back my chair and stand. he is no taller than me and i can now see in his eye slits the hatred and fury hiding in his eyes. i hold my breath as his jaw clenches and arm tightens. he yells some command in my direction, but the pounding of my heart drowns it out. i hear nothing he says. his hand squeezes. trigger, hammer, explosion, expulsion. the vessel of my demise careens towards me. the figures arm springs back as if the explosion surprised him. smoke explodes from the barrel. the small piece of metal and lead rips through the left side of my chest. i weeze. i can feel my lungs becoming full of the blood that sat so idle all these days. it now moves. i feel pain. pain. it is not dull. life is no longer dull. i feel. life has meaning now. one never knows what something means until it is taken away. out of the small hole in my chest pours the blood that i never cherished until now. my heart beats so loud i am deafened by it. everything fades. i am at peace. i found peace through chaos. i found life. i understood life by way of death.