Monday, January 25, 2010
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
can you explain it?
Listening to Bill Maher ridicule our beliefs with a crowd laughing at every word makes you wonder if the reason he’s never understood Christianity properly is because no one was able to explain it to him… or maybe he’s just what he looks like, an irritating, ignorant rationalist trying to put on a comedy.
The only reason I would, or could ever be ashamed to call myself a Christian is because of other so-called “Christians” parading around like some know-it-all-self-religious-throw-it-in-your-face idiots who when asked to explain their reasoning come up with a load of crap you can’t even back up with the Bible.
In America, those “claiming” to be Christians have decreased from 86 percent in 1990 to 75 percent today, and I know that is still a rather large portion, but it’s not the “claiming” or “labeling” that should matter but what people believe and do… and if they can explain themselves—the reason for the hope that should be very apparent in their lives. To call Christianity “just another belief or religion” is degrading by all means and if a so called Christian is not capable of explaining what it really is than they shouldn’t be claiming any religion at all until they’ve got their facts straight. To have a religion means to have faith in it, something that backs you up that you believe in and work for… you can call Christianity what you want as a religion---but what it really should come down to is a person distributing Christ’s love through a very evident relationship with the Father.
The only reason I would, or could ever be ashamed to call myself a Christian is because of other so-called “Christians” parading around like some know-it-all-self-religious-throw-it-in-your-face idiots who when asked to explain their reasoning come up with a load of crap you can’t even back up with the Bible.
In America, those “claiming” to be Christians have decreased from 86 percent in 1990 to 75 percent today, and I know that is still a rather large portion, but it’s not the “claiming” or “labeling” that should matter but what people believe and do… and if they can explain themselves—the reason for the hope that should be very apparent in their lives. To call Christianity “just another belief or religion” is degrading by all means and if a so called Christian is not capable of explaining what it really is than they shouldn’t be claiming any religion at all until they’ve got their facts straight. To have a religion means to have faith in it, something that backs you up that you believe in and work for… you can call Christianity what you want as a religion---but what it really should come down to is a person distributing Christ’s love through a very evident relationship with the Father.
Friday, January 30, 2009
nothing
She twirled the match around, like a sorcerer with a wand controlling the flame before it bit at her fingers. I imagined the smoke, now climbing in the air from the black head of scalded wood, was an old woman with long gray hair ever entwining behind her coal face. She proceeded to light the five candles, each rich vanilla. They were all below four inches high and would not last long. There was a blue candle of which I did not know the scent, with a glass frame to keep the wax from spilling. When she blew them out I put my finger in the milky wax. It burned for only a second until it dried into a round crust on my fingertip. I peeled it off to examine the perfect, smooth print inside the now hardened impression.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Christmas
I have decided I’m looking forward to Christmas this year. I wasn’t at first because who knows what it’ll be like without my whole family here… but today when we went to Goodys they were playing Christmas music (and it wasn’t as bad as last years, surprisingly… well, except this one song where the lady sung REALLY out of key)… last year it drove me insane because they start playing Christmas music sooo early, but, it didn’t really bother me this time. In fact, I’ve missed it. We kinda missed Christmas last year being in the Keys in all, so yeah… I wanna watch all our traditional Christmas movies we watch every year, set up the tree and play the old records… yep. And even if it’s dorky and we don’t really do Christmas gifts I just don’t care… I wanna have a good Christmas.
smithy
smithy
Monday, October 27, 2008
i've been tagged
Rules consist of:
Link to the person (Lauren) who tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Write Six Random Things about yourself.
Tag a few other people at the bottom of the post and leave comments on their blogs to let them know they've been tagged.
And also let the person who tagged you know when you've written the post.
1. I get the hiccups whenever I eat pancakes, toast, carrots or hamburgers.
2. The longest I've ever gone without biting my nails is a week--and that was almost painfully hard.
3. The sound or feeling of wood scraping against teeth just kills me like a fingernail against a chalkboard.
4. I don't like pie.
5. I've watched Much Ado About Nothing about 5 times in a row and I'm still not sick of it... and I bet I could quote the Emperor's New Groove and Monty Python the whole way through.
6. I have a deadly fear of spiders.
I've always wondered what it would be like to get tagged... huh. It was actually kind of hard thinking up six things... lol... well, I hereby tag Kacie and Christa... yep, looks like everyone else I know on blogger has already been tagged.
smithy
Link to the person (Lauren) who tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Write Six Random Things about yourself.
Tag a few other people at the bottom of the post and leave comments on their blogs to let them know they've been tagged.
And also let the person who tagged you know when you've written the post.
1. I get the hiccups whenever I eat pancakes, toast, carrots or hamburgers.
2. The longest I've ever gone without biting my nails is a week--and that was almost painfully hard.
3. The sound or feeling of wood scraping against teeth just kills me like a fingernail against a chalkboard.
4. I don't like pie.
5. I've watched Much Ado About Nothing about 5 times in a row and I'm still not sick of it... and I bet I could quote the Emperor's New Groove and Monty Python the whole way through.
6. I have a deadly fear of spiders.
I've always wondered what it would be like to get tagged... huh. It was actually kind of hard thinking up six things... lol... well, I hereby tag Kacie and Christa... yep, looks like everyone else I know on blogger has already been tagged.
smithy
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
boomin' out the computer screen
Last night I stayed up late doodling in my artbook. I haven’t been working on artwork much lately and I’d just been looking at sketches on google and I guess it inspired me because I can’t put my pencil down now… it’s fun, but I’m having a hard time keeping my characters modest. I know, that must sound awful but I can’t help it. A true artist learns the curves of the body and draws them out as a beautiful masterpiece, if I have to keep clothes on how are you supposed to see the body? Alright, so that wasn’t rightly put because most people probably say that to today’s skimpy fashion, but seriously, this is just my artwork and nobody really looks at it anyways. The female figure has always inspired me more than anything else when it comes to drawing, and that’s what I like to draw, so why not expand my talent? All the great artists back then didn’t bother to add clothes, why should I? I guess I just have to be careful how far I go with it—not to mention, who I let see my work.
I got this cute forward I love that goes like this: A girl asked a guy if he thought she was pretty. He said no. She asked him if he would want to be with her forever. And he said no. She then asked him if she were to leave would he cry, and once again he replied with a no. She had heard enough. As she walked away, tears streaming down her face the boy grabbed her arm and said... You’re not pretty, you're beautiful. I don't want to be with you forever, I NEED to be with you forever. And I wouldn't cry if you walked away...I'd die...
That is just about one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard… man, I wish someone’d say that to me!
Luke came charging into the living room this evening with a shirt and some tight sweats on. He was growling at Lydia and began hissing through his teeth, “Don’t make me mad… you don’t want to see me when I’m mad.” He then proceeded to take off his shirt while making his own sound effects. *Rip rip rip*. Then off went his pants—don’t worry he had shorts under them—running around the room like a crazy monkey shrieking and growling. He then ran down the stairs leaving his clothes on the floor and those of us who witnessed the “transformation” in hysterics. Hmm. Well, I think his impression of the Hulk was pretty good if I do say so myself.
The weather lately has been getting colder and colder… it makes me sad. It reminds me of grandma when she’d come up from Florida for Christmas. We’re going through another drought and our well is getting rather low. It didn’t bother me as much before because it’s supposed to rain during the spring and summer—but it hardly rains in the winter… this could be bad.
What’s been up with my fam: Lydia and Luke are reading the Bible now and whenever we have devotions they pray just about the longest prayers ever---I remember going through that stage. Peter just got over his “two month” cold—which we found out was allergies. Me, well, I’m the usual—except for a little something something going on with me and someone. Matt is going to Tri-County, he was working at the Comfort Café again but he quit because it was taking too much time that he needs to study. Steph is still in Florida working at Peir One, and Tim informed me she misses us! It’s amazing… lol… jk… Lauren and Tim are doing good—raising Isaac, writing another book, working on college… the usual I guess, but then, when is anything exactly like usual? Just read Lauren's blog. We still get emails from Noah every now and then telling us what he’s been up to over there in Laos. They’re very interesting emails because the grammar is usually all wrong, and he’s started referring to God as Papa… it’s rather hysterical. But yeah, he sounds like he’s doing good. I miss him, and Steph. Mom always seems to be filling out these surveys for Home Depot, Landsend, Country Living or whoever to win their store sweep stakes—and she’s handed the emailing homeschool work over to someone else so—amazingly—I won’t be called down here to help her figure out email stuff, as often, that is. Honestly I don’t know why she was chosen—or picked, I don’t know which—for that job because she knows nothing whatsoever about computers. Dad has allergies in the fall so his eyes are always pink and puffy and it kind of scares me. He’s still always pausing movies in the middle to give a history lesson… and he’s gotten very cautious about electricity savings and when I’m in my room he comes in and turns the light off on me. He bought a machine that changes videos into dvds---which is a good thing because our vcr just quit working I miss watching Disney cartoons.
Annnnd I'm afraid that's all I have to update on now... so, until next time my fellow bloggers.
smithy
funniest scene in Blades of Glory---it's Beau's fault
John Heder (Jimmy): “I see you got fat.”
Will Ferrell (Chazz): “I see you still look like a fifteen year old girl but not pretty.”
Jimmy: “You crushed my dreams.”
Chazz: “Dreams? I haven’t had one of those in years.”
Jimmy: “Zip it, Chazz. Zip it or I will punch you in your crap lousy face.”
Chazz: “Hey, this ends tonight.”
Jimmy: “It’s daytime, you douche.”
I got this cute forward I love that goes like this: A girl asked a guy if he thought she was pretty. He said no. She asked him if he would want to be with her forever. And he said no. She then asked him if she were to leave would he cry, and once again he replied with a no. She had heard enough. As she walked away, tears streaming down her face the boy grabbed her arm and said... You’re not pretty, you're beautiful. I don't want to be with you forever, I NEED to be with you forever. And I wouldn't cry if you walked away...I'd die...
That is just about one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard… man, I wish someone’d say that to me!
Luke came charging into the living room this evening with a shirt and some tight sweats on. He was growling at Lydia and began hissing through his teeth, “Don’t make me mad… you don’t want to see me when I’m mad.” He then proceeded to take off his shirt while making his own sound effects. *Rip rip rip*. Then off went his pants—don’t worry he had shorts under them—running around the room like a crazy monkey shrieking and growling. He then ran down the stairs leaving his clothes on the floor and those of us who witnessed the “transformation” in hysterics. Hmm. Well, I think his impression of the Hulk was pretty good if I do say so myself.
The weather lately has been getting colder and colder… it makes me sad. It reminds me of grandma when she’d come up from Florida for Christmas. We’re going through another drought and our well is getting rather low. It didn’t bother me as much before because it’s supposed to rain during the spring and summer—but it hardly rains in the winter… this could be bad.
What’s been up with my fam: Lydia and Luke are reading the Bible now and whenever we have devotions they pray just about the longest prayers ever---I remember going through that stage. Peter just got over his “two month” cold—which we found out was allergies. Me, well, I’m the usual—except for a little something something going on with me and someone. Matt is going to Tri-County, he was working at the Comfort Café again but he quit because it was taking too much time that he needs to study. Steph is still in Florida working at Peir One, and Tim informed me she misses us! It’s amazing… lol… jk… Lauren and Tim are doing good—raising Isaac, writing another book, working on college… the usual I guess, but then, when is anything exactly like usual? Just read Lauren's blog. We still get emails from Noah every now and then telling us what he’s been up to over there in Laos. They’re very interesting emails because the grammar is usually all wrong, and he’s started referring to God as Papa… it’s rather hysterical. But yeah, he sounds like he’s doing good. I miss him, and Steph. Mom always seems to be filling out these surveys for Home Depot, Landsend, Country Living or whoever to win their store sweep stakes—and she’s handed the emailing homeschool work over to someone else so—amazingly—I won’t be called down here to help her figure out email stuff, as often, that is. Honestly I don’t know why she was chosen—or picked, I don’t know which—for that job because she knows nothing whatsoever about computers. Dad has allergies in the fall so his eyes are always pink and puffy and it kind of scares me. He’s still always pausing movies in the middle to give a history lesson… and he’s gotten very cautious about electricity savings and when I’m in my room he comes in and turns the light off on me. He bought a machine that changes videos into dvds---which is a good thing because our vcr just quit working I miss watching Disney cartoons.
Annnnd I'm afraid that's all I have to update on now... so, until next time my fellow bloggers.
smithy
funniest scene in Blades of Glory---it's Beau's fault
John Heder (Jimmy): “I see you got fat.”
Will Ferrell (Chazz): “I see you still look like a fifteen year old girl but not pretty.”
Jimmy: “You crushed my dreams.”
Chazz: “Dreams? I haven’t had one of those in years.”
Jimmy: “Zip it, Chazz. Zip it or I will punch you in your crap lousy face.”
Chazz: “Hey, this ends tonight.”
Jimmy: “It’s daytime, you douche.”
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Great pap Richie
It was very chilly out this morning… it reminded me of one of those days when we’d get up early and go to Suches with dad for the Indian Summer Festival. That’s next week… Anywho, so I took a walk before I ate breakfast and just went out to talk with God. The moon was sitting in the sky straight across from the sun just behind the trees. We have our first orange fall tree out… I can’t believe it’s already getting cold. I want to be able to wear jackets and hoodies and all my winter clothing (because I have more of it than Summer clothes) but sometimes the in between weather change can be so annoying when it can’t make up its mind. I was so cold this morning in my room I had to put on my flannel pjs because I don’t have any sweats, and some socks, but then I just decided it was pointless and I went to sit in the sun on the porch. It was warmer outside than in.
Monday I got out a bunch of books and picked three to start reading. I began with Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte---I love the way she writes), Much Ado about Nothing (Shakespeare), and Run, Baby Run (Nicky Cruz)… I think Run, Baby Run is the most addicting and I haven’t been able to put it down. Much Ado about Nothing is just like the movie and I can picture all the characters in my head while I read it… and well, I didn’t make it too far in Jane Eyre, but I’ll get there. Anywho, these books should keep me occupied during my boredom stages in the evenings and if not… God help me.
We had steak for dinner the other night. Dad likes his meet red; I like mine over cooked until it’s crisp and a little burnt around the edges. I literally squeezed a strip of meet in my hand until blood came dripping through my fist into a puddle on my plate… sick.
I’ve been staying up ‘till twelve every night reading. When I get tired of one book I switch to another and so the process goes on and on until I realize what time it is. All three books have been highly entertaining, and sometimes they keep me from my studies.
Last night I had a strange dream with Darryl in it… probably because Leah and I mentioned something of him about shining and not whining yesterday (something he always said at camp)… it was a creepy dream and I was always trying to run away. But then I was pulled from sleep when I heard a voice, a girl’s voice call my name. At first I thought it was in my dream… but I couldn’t find my dream anymore. So then I thought it was Stephanie, but then I remembered she isn’t here. It was a beautiful, gentle voice, so then I thought maybe it was an angel… oh well, I guess I’ll never know.
Well, I’ve started (writing) yet another book… sort of… I have some ideas for this one but I’m not sure how far it’ll actually get. Here’s what I have so far:
I thought I had escaped this life, but here I was clear as day driving through town seeing too many familiar faces. Great pap Richie had died and I was called back only two months after my escape. Of course I would never talk like this to any of the town folk… they didn’t know my dreams about living in a city and making big money as a writer... about having my own apartment and living on my own independently without a whole town of relatives and so-called relatives watching my every move. Sometimes they suffocated me like a canary in a cage. And when the cat comes to claw through the bars at me sometimes I think I’d prefer the inside of its stomach than looking through those bars at a world I’ll never experience.
I made myself cry at the funeral. And it wasn’t because of Richie either, or the old crows dabbing at their eyes with pink handkerchiefs. I cried for the soul purpose of crying over the inexplicably, painfully long service. When a person is dead, you should honor the person by giving them the shortest funeral service ever—the sooner it’s over the sooner that person can be put into the earth to deteriorate while everyone else goes home and moves on. But by keeping it as long as possible—and I mean as long as possible---you make things more dramatic than they really are. He’s dead for goodness’ sake and he’s not coming back. I hardly new Richie myself, but I was sure I’d know more about him than even his late wife did at the memorial service that afternoon when all the stories and rumors would go around and people would laugh and cry and eat pie… it was like a thanksgiving holiday, only we were getting together over a death… but I honestly couldn’t tell the difference. I was dreading those long hugs where you’re embraced for eternity in the arms of someone you don’t even know. Someone who says they knew you as a baby and all they talk about is how you’ve grown. It has always puzzled me as to how one should reply to that. “Gee, thanks I guess?” And then of course what I really want to say, “Please stop hugging me I’m about to gag from all that perfume… and don’t get so close to my face with those lipsticky fish-lips.” Either it’s a plump old woman with a big smile, a crying bony old woman with sagging boobs, or the worst: an old man hugging me so tight I feel like all my bones will crunch and I’ll slither through his arms and over his fat bear belly to the ground where I’ll lay a skin sack of bones. Sometimes I wish I only could disappear that fast.
smithy
Monday I got out a bunch of books and picked three to start reading. I began with Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte---I love the way she writes), Much Ado about Nothing (Shakespeare), and Run, Baby Run (Nicky Cruz)… I think Run, Baby Run is the most addicting and I haven’t been able to put it down. Much Ado about Nothing is just like the movie and I can picture all the characters in my head while I read it… and well, I didn’t make it too far in Jane Eyre, but I’ll get there. Anywho, these books should keep me occupied during my boredom stages in the evenings and if not… God help me.
We had steak for dinner the other night. Dad likes his meet red; I like mine over cooked until it’s crisp and a little burnt around the edges. I literally squeezed a strip of meet in my hand until blood came dripping through my fist into a puddle on my plate… sick.
I’ve been staying up ‘till twelve every night reading. When I get tired of one book I switch to another and so the process goes on and on until I realize what time it is. All three books have been highly entertaining, and sometimes they keep me from my studies.
Last night I had a strange dream with Darryl in it… probably because Leah and I mentioned something of him about shining and not whining yesterday (something he always said at camp)… it was a creepy dream and I was always trying to run away. But then I was pulled from sleep when I heard a voice, a girl’s voice call my name. At first I thought it was in my dream… but I couldn’t find my dream anymore. So then I thought it was Stephanie, but then I remembered she isn’t here. It was a beautiful, gentle voice, so then I thought maybe it was an angel… oh well, I guess I’ll never know.
Well, I’ve started (writing) yet another book… sort of… I have some ideas for this one but I’m not sure how far it’ll actually get. Here’s what I have so far:
I thought I had escaped this life, but here I was clear as day driving through town seeing too many familiar faces. Great pap Richie had died and I was called back only two months after my escape. Of course I would never talk like this to any of the town folk… they didn’t know my dreams about living in a city and making big money as a writer... about having my own apartment and living on my own independently without a whole town of relatives and so-called relatives watching my every move. Sometimes they suffocated me like a canary in a cage. And when the cat comes to claw through the bars at me sometimes I think I’d prefer the inside of its stomach than looking through those bars at a world I’ll never experience.
I made myself cry at the funeral. And it wasn’t because of Richie either, or the old crows dabbing at their eyes with pink handkerchiefs. I cried for the soul purpose of crying over the inexplicably, painfully long service. When a person is dead, you should honor the person by giving them the shortest funeral service ever—the sooner it’s over the sooner that person can be put into the earth to deteriorate while everyone else goes home and moves on. But by keeping it as long as possible—and I mean as long as possible---you make things more dramatic than they really are. He’s dead for goodness’ sake and he’s not coming back. I hardly new Richie myself, but I was sure I’d know more about him than even his late wife did at the memorial service that afternoon when all the stories and rumors would go around and people would laugh and cry and eat pie… it was like a thanksgiving holiday, only we were getting together over a death… but I honestly couldn’t tell the difference. I was dreading those long hugs where you’re embraced for eternity in the arms of someone you don’t even know. Someone who says they knew you as a baby and all they talk about is how you’ve grown. It has always puzzled me as to how one should reply to that. “Gee, thanks I guess?” And then of course what I really want to say, “Please stop hugging me I’m about to gag from all that perfume… and don’t get so close to my face with those lipsticky fish-lips.” Either it’s a plump old woman with a big smile, a crying bony old woman with sagging boobs, or the worst: an old man hugging me so tight I feel like all my bones will crunch and I’ll slither through his arms and over his fat bear belly to the ground where I’ll lay a skin sack of bones. Sometimes I wish I only could disappear that fast.
smithy
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