Super Trooper

Check it out:

2010-04-28T11:25:00.000-07:00

So I've decided to economize: bring all things to one website.

This is the new me: anafterwave.weebly.com.

It is much easier to post comments on there! No need to subscribe or anything.
You can also find other links to websites I'm on. It's pretty sweet :)

Peace,
Amanda

Pink and White

2010-04-13T20:04:00.000-07:00

I remember a soft pink glow-
the overcompensation of a tomboy,
The proper white ceiling and trim and bookcase,
The checkerboard bedspread and hospital corners.

White and Pink

Not Barbie pink-
Pink like a bold floral arrangement
that's leaked, faded, dried-
on these walls.

Pink and White

The closet-white-
the cover-up of a sinful child
painting angelic flavor
and hiding under sheets.

I'm just going to leave this one as is.

Lo es que lo es!

Sorry I've been gone so long. Spring break was exhausting (if not encouraging and amazing). I have been feeling pretty drained, but I'm getting there.
In other news, I have an 8am class. Every morning, I wake up wondering why I thought I had gained super-wake-up powers this quarter.

Anyway. I'm going to study some Ephesians and sleep. Buenos noches!

Peace o pax,
Amanda

ps. Can you tell that I'm taking Spanish classes again?

Nibs

2010-04-01T15:04:00.000-07:00

I'm a retractable pen that's been clicked in,
but got stuck-a nib that can only just see the paper,
I wonder if Jesus walked the entire 40 days
If he slept, how'd he sleep, was it sandy?
Forty, it rhymes with authority-
and thank God I survived the teen years,
to come out without anarchist beliefs.
My synapses snap to the beat of ADHD
It's another round of temptation vs. self-control
Pretending to be OCD to dictate all but myself
In psych they said “Don't think of a purple elephant!”
I thought of a polka-dotted platypus-
too bad that doesn't play out here
Satan tries his reverse psychology on me
And it works-of course-I'm the freak in the classroom
and the accidental caterer to sin.
Focus, focus (throws Jesus around in the head)
But I was never that good at catching
But then, that's grace-Jesus catches for me.

Two poems :0 fresh and unedited

2010-03-27T16:37:00.000-07:00

God is Green

That pew felt right-
comfortable-
the harsh, upright wood resisted
my disjointed curved back-
but that's right.
-reminiscent of an ugly orange
that was splattered against other pews-
other lectures-
I remember little me-
the tiny cabin that's been so cleverly tucked
behind a playground-
the street that grew narrow, curved and died-
and the dirt and world that met its end-
Shel Silverstein understood this-
then there were the steps and the largest clovers
I've ever seen-as though they took a bread
and grew into a Wonderland
-people move seamlessly here,
as a royal fabric-deep byzantium-
and voices trickle in-
skipping, dancing, bouncing-
off walls, each other, seamlessly.
If we are created in the image of a Creator,
Then I at least find myself in the element when creating
-and ants crawl over me as my body stills
like one stream of color in a plaid storybook-
other ants have tracked my pensivity...
and verde! Verily, veriteserum-
green is life and life is unable to lie-
verde, truth, God

Words

They were the red pencil sketch on my calf-
the leaking ink-the Hancock on the signature line
the individual pixels-
the primary colors-secondary-tertiary-
the fairy in a bottle-the antidote in a syringe-
(or a poison)-a leaf: grow-burst-fade-fall-decay
a lightning bug: sparking-moving-shadowing-ghost
a lum: find it-absorb it-catch 'em all-sideline some
It's faith that they mean what they mean-
that they cannot be stripped of their identity-
that it's more than a formulated glob of lines, sound-waves-
that we don't make it what it is, they what they are-
It's faith that we can let go and not know.

Look what I found:

2010-03-23T22:05:00.000-07:00

once upon a time
i told the world to make up its mind
i was confused by its lies
i was tired of having to hide
i hid the blade under my bed
i hid the food in the garbage
i hid the matches in my drawer
i hid my Bible out of my sight
i hid my family behind my bedroom door
then i locked everything
i was set for an ending
didn’t expect a beginning

I was going through my writing to find the good stuff to take to this Californian writing conference. Then I stumbled upon this!

Can't for the life of me tell you when I wrote it. But it is just fascinating to see where I've come from that point.

This had to be written sometime my senior year... when all of that was still poignantly fresh.

Anyways. It's funny how many beginnings we get in life. I think I'm in one right now.
:)

Peace up and out,
Amanda MfreakingE

Cigarette Field: A rant

2010-03-22T08:18:00.001-07:00

Cigarettes litter these streets like grass and trash,
Dutch Pall Mall and Marlboro Lights.
Tobacco that fills the manufactured air-
wafting through my window.
Second-hand smoke-
as if I had a choice not to be addicted-
Walls that smell like shit-
and why not? We're all
human.
Born out of filth, into filth.
Pick up once in a while,
Or I'll Febreze you-douse the world in
perfume.
Is that a bin?
Oh, no, that's just my doorway.
Please. Leave your addiction.
Smoking like there's no personal control-
Forced, like a whale that spouts smoke.
(and to think-
this city could have been beautiful.)

Hollywood makes me evaluate my life

2010-03-20T23:25:00.000-07:00

Once, there was a writer. She did typical writer things: pondered, daydreamed, felt, gave, took, drained, hurt, loved, and was always stuck being 100%.

She was a writer. But she loved music.

If she were a pot of boiling water and noodles, then music would be the burner. If she were a dog, then music would be the car ride. If she were a parking meter, then music would be the coin. If she were a narcissist, then music would be the mirror.

The point is this: she lived in music, for music. But she was a writer.

She could only do one half of the music: the lyrics.

And she could write and write, forever.

And try to write melodies, and try to harmonize.

But couldn't escape that she was only really good at lyrics.

But, oh, how in love she was with the melody.

So far gone.

She romanticized it; crushed on it; daydreamed about it.

If melody was a black hole, then she was lost inside, furiously writing.

She was intimidated, transported back into childhood.

She was an awkward kid again; insecure; the naked dream.

So she kept quiet, and held back: awkward.

Every once in a while, she would meet other lyrics; writers.

And she would crush, because that's familiar.

They got her; knew her; understood her.

Somehow, she'd let herself fall for those other lyrics.

They'd talk over each other, overlap, and mean nothing.

And she'd remember how she dreampt of the melody, how she actually needed the melody.

She'd think of treble clef signs and stretch her fingers.

The lyrics would part ways, to achieve meaning-

Realizing that they need melody to be complete.

And really, the melody needs them, too.

The melody needed her.

Staring Contest with my Coffee

2010-03-16T15:10:00.000-07:00

Little flecks pop up and under-
Like sloppy penguins.
My brain is leaking out, mingling with
the warm depths
and the rim that's been dyed musty
brown.
Sucks my face in and my brown eyes
match it's cream-
oh, escape.
Plopping neurons in like the floater grounds-
wonder:
what's wrong with my machine (it's obnoxiously orange)
I don't think these mugs are ever clean-
faint, caffeinated smell-
permeating the plastic-glass-porcelain-
substance.
My olfaction is calm-
in familiar proximity to my insanity-
Plain, plain, plain-
almost meaty, like life-
Vitamin D milk, sucrose-
that's first, like a stratum of rock-the flood-dissolving the world
(or maybe just sugar)
and then comes the black, melted shingles-
and morphs: light, medium, perfection.
I wait, I sip, I burn.
but, my tongue will regenerate-
the taste buds will be replaced-
It's all good.

2010-03-09T18:50:00.000-08:00

I was walking home from small group an hour ago. I was in a spring peace mode, breathing in the sensation of the night air against my skin: smiling, relaxed. There was an old man standing outside Chipotle, waving at everyone. Just waving, smiling. He kept waving at me, sweetly excited, with this quirky hat on his white head. "You look relaxed!" So, I stopped and talked to him. Just for a minute or two. He said he had jokes in some newspapers and told me one.. It went to the effect of this:
"What did the grass say to the football team?" "If you cut us we'll root for you!"
I really don't remember it. That was just the gist.
And then he started waving again, so I laughed and said thank-you.

It was so simplistic and sweet. I walked away with a glorious smile on my face, thinking about him. But then I started wondering how many people had ignored him, or walked away without treating him like a human being, or even treated him like he wasn't worth anything. Then it was one of those awkward smiling, but I'm kind of crying at the same time things.

Just wanted to write about it.
Peace,
Amanda

Catching On

2010-03-08T21:44:00.001-08:00

Some folks have to tell jokes
just to be a little bit funny
Some folks have to tell jokes
just to get a half-forced laugh

but you and I are inanely, hilarious
you and I are plainly, mysterious
With a little bit of wit, and a dash of stupidity
Just a little bit smitten, with a dash of ingenuity

Some peeps have to be creeps
just to be a little bit familiar
Some peeps have to be creeps
just to get a half-drunk friend

but you and I are inanely, hilarious
you and I are plainly, mysterious
With a little bit of wit, and a dash of stupidity
Just a little bit smitten, with a dash of ingenuity

I know we are best as friends
You say you're here til the end
They say we are just a trend

You and I hate cultural conformity
You and I are naturally abnormally
They say we are just a phase

When fall comes around, will you still be in style?
When spring gets here, will I still be worth your while?

Just the lyrics to a song I wrote. Yeah, it's pretty silly. No, it's not about anyone I've met yet.

Peace,
Amanda

Okay, I just wrote this too. Yes, this is cheesy. And yes, it is about someone.

I'd kinda like to think
that it was me you were looking at
Maybe it's naive
to think that you've fallen for me
Is it narcissistic
to hope that you think about me?
Maybe it's naive
to believe in organic chemistry

Love could be like monopoly
(I definitely am in jail a lot)
You're Boardwalk, but I've passed through to go
200 dollars richer, but my heart's a little poorer

Love could be like Hungry Hippos
{My heart's definitely growling)
The big addicts, snatching up the unexpected
Hungry for anything, but spitting most back out

Love could be like solitaire
(I'm definitely flyin' solo)
Strategically placing self in the right spot
Hoping the next card brings possibility

Maybe love isn't a game
Maybe cliche's should be done with
Maybe love is an abstraction
But, if so, sign me up, Malevich.

Okay, enough with the cheese already.
Goodnight.

40 days fast from boys

2010-03-04T19:23:00.000-08:00

My weak heart floats
pushing against the taut cartilage
I swore I'd pray-
dreaming, not life-
I'm free. I'm chained.
That imagined pulse haunts me
as the thought of God, the image of empty
painted onto eyelids. I blink
my mind-a thought gets him in.
I say "Get out"-It's stuck-
the soapy, helium-filled bubbles-
stuck, filling up my trachea-
so, dislodging my heart.

Not sure how many people I've told about this, but basically I've been fasting from romance for Lent. I am one of those unfortunates who is so caught up in the idea of romance and love, that I dedicate way too much time thinking about it. So, I thought that for Lent I would give all of that up-thinking about romance, about falling in love, about some random guy. It's been difficult as anything, but worth it. It's caused me to think of God a lot in every day moments. (which was the plan-replace every romantic thought with thoughts of the Greatest Romance)

So, yeah. This just captures the struggle. It was a poetry assignment for 101-Modeled after "Facing It," by Yusef Komunyakaa. It was an extremely difficult thing to do... I literally had to place my words into the original.

So, that is all.
Peace up, out, within,
Amanda

I feel like a piece of surrealist art

2010-02-24T19:20:00.000-08:00

Oh, I went to a poetry reading today.

It was pretty decent, but one poem really felt outlines to me.

It was about a man who murdered another man, and then ate him.

Here's the clincher:
The man wanted to be murdered, cut up, and eaten.

There aren't many non-expletives to describe how that makes me feel.

It's called "Letter after Dismemberment" by Allison Stine. Essentially she used quotes like this to describe the man's desire: "dream in pixels," "place me in an ice cube tray," "the man through the window, sliced by panes." (Those are not all exact, I can't find the poem online to quote)

The surrealist movement been on my mind lately, because we are also doing surrealist poetry right now in poetry101. Not gonna lie, I get a lot of negative, creepy vibes from the surrealist methods. The only time I've ever studied it, previous to the past couple days, was for English102. I did a paper on the Black Dahlia. Somebody out there proposed a theory and wrote a book describing said theory. The theory is that the Black Dahlia was killed in an attempt to bring surrealist art to life.

Disturbing.

(Creeps just thinking about this)

The book describes how aspects of Dahlia's dismemberment are similar to different surrealist art work. Everything from the way her arm was positioned, to the separation of her abdomen, to the missing triangle of flesh in her breast... All tie into different art pieces.

I'm not saying that I buy into this theory of her death.
It was just hella convincing.
And creepy.

So, now, whenever I think of surrealism, I think of poor Elizabeth Short (Dahlia). Thankfully, earlier today I started to see the beautiful side to this artform-that is the dreamlike, metaphorical essence. Maybe surrealism is just the artist wanting to depict the metaphor for each body part or object in life.

So here's just a little snippet of some stuff I'm working on:

It's an art form,
can't you see that?
It's a metaphor.
Obviously.
(Or not)
Apparently its definition is
only divided by a cord-
jumping from dictionary to thesaurus:
perception to reality-
So easily unplugged, removed
trashed.
Rude.
Maybe if your office was cleaner
and the cords tucked away-
you wouldn't be tripping.
(And also, get off the drugs)
I feel sick from your sadistic
disruption and interpretation of body
God wonders where
He failed your eyes
God wonders that
He wasn't the ultimate professional-
artist.
God wonders at you.
So do I.

So yeah... A lot different from my style. Or maybe that's just how I write when I feel angry

Then here's another snippet... This was an exercise in class

Jesus doesn't blink-
neither do you.
But the sun winks at us all
and though, it's heat
intermingles with glass
and warps the city's structures
(as if buildings could dance, ha)
the infant tree,
in your lap, gently shaken
by the train's repetition,
sucks up the sun's staccato iris
Clorophyll B, reproduction-
Gleeful xylem

Last bit:

So...
We need to talk.
Apparently, my neurons have been
(incognito)-
out of touch
But I get to see them in dreams,
We don't talk-
they're just playing a guessing game.
You seem to be the antagonist-
the big evil presence-
So, tell me, Godzilla
who are you?
Or what, and why?
I know my scent is everywhere
I know it's attracted to your nose hair
(Do dinosaurs have nose hair?)
Either way, your septum always knows
(And that wasn't a pun)
Do you ever get me in the end?
Or what happens-
Strange childhood coverup-
what's going on with me?
out of the loop with my issues-
Let's have the DTR-
define our relationship.
Maybe for once I'll run after you

Soo. Yeah, my voice feels a little different.. but eh, I'm diggin this experience.

Peace, lovelies.

Apparently, Glue

2010-02-08T19:47:00.000-08:00

So, I've been freaking out. I have no idea where my song book is. I am nothing without this book. I am desperate to find it again. There is stuff in there that is private and sacred...

The most important thing is this song. Mikey, Matt and I wrote it for our parents on their 22nd anniversary. I thought it died with the book.. but I was smart and had backed it up on the computer :) Go me

Apparently, Glue

You pulsed through this heart of stone
You are the marrow to my bones

You blanketed this heart uncovered
You are the chocolate to my peanut butter

Refrain
Together we answered words unspent
Together, we are the perfect complement

You gave me the breath for words unsung
You are the air to my lungs

You were there to carry me
You are the moon to my sea

Refrain

Chorus
I didn't sign up for this
Thought we said for better
Thought we said in health
Not everybody knows
What it is to be stuck at go
I didn't sign up for this
But if we're both here
Then, I guess, we'll stick

You completed the love story I sought
You are the imagination to my thoughts

You danced with me, held me tight
You are the rock to my might

Refrain

You are the melody that gave me a start
You are the beat to my heart

You are the lens that clears the hazy
You are the truth in my crazy

Refrain
Chorus
But I guess, we'll stick
Yes, I'd like to stick
So, let's just stick.

It's very much a "Anyone Else but You" song. Totally the same vibe and everything. It's a duet and it is a little bit cheesy. Or a lot. Thing is, we asked them both to define their relationship in unique terms to them... This is what we got

Love you mom and dad :) Props for stickin!

Metronome

2010-01-30T12:24:00.000-08:00

The wind is swimming around me

lapping up against my cheekbones

splashing into my hair

I sense it settling as a presence around my neck-

did it realize I was under-dressed

and decide to improvise a scarf?

These days are taffy

I can feel them being stretched, prodded-

these bricks would tell me to be still

Time's slow gait is palpable and sweet

impermeable to distraction-

the cinereous city ground asks me to slow down

the delicate dancing sound of

some abused shard, skipping across the pavement

accentuates my thought patterns

I'm not walking-

not drumming-

I'm dancing to the world's metronome

The child united

2010-01-29T08:42:00.000-08:00

Peace feels frothy, and I would know,

Like marshmallows disintegrating in chocolate

The snow can drip from my hair, but I am safe

Locked in this blanket; my mind tucked in a book

Peace is water, and I would know

Suspension in the cool body of molecules

Catching me, flowing around me, I am safe

Floating in a pool of ethereal; my mind muted by pressure

Peace is stillness, and I would know,

I used to be one with the entire world

and I knew the secrets, I listened

To the wind, the trees, that creek in my yard

Peace is the dance, and I would know

My spirit and I waltzed our way to Europe

And at a hidden wishing well, I spilled

My silent prayer to ripple the water

Peace feels smoky, and I would know,

Like the Orient and Tolkien dancing in dad's pipe

The distant thunder in his voice, and I am safe

Locked in his arms; my mind tucked asleep

God is: a storyteller

2010-01-26T20:36:00.000-08:00

I wrote this entire blog last night. But it died. Burned. Lost in the intergalactic web.

SIGH.

So here goes... take two.

The storyteller image of God goes way back to my childhood. See, as a child, I was really strange and abnormally pensive. I would spend a lot of time meditating and just sitting outside listening. Seriously, an extraordinary amount of time. I would ponder about eternity, try to grasp the complexity of God's lack of a beginning. I would debate in my head whether we have free will or if God is omnipotent and omniscient. Seriously. That is what I thought about as a kid. That's weird. When I was three, I came home from VBS, infuriated, saying, "Mommy, bad men at church killed Jesus." Days later, I came home in tears, "Mommy... I killed Jesus." That was the moment I entered into a strange relationship with God. It has blossomed into something glorious.
Just to further define the picture of my odd thoughts growing up:
"It was to be one of those bedtime for which my four-year-old daughter, Amanda, was famous. This time I was stumped. "Does God love Barbie?" she asked, with an earnestness that made me wish for her sake that He did. Not wanting to burst her bubble and not wanting to lie, I punted. "What do you think, sweetie?" She reasoned that He probably didn't, since dolls didn't have spirits. We were both satisfied."-Julie Evans (my mama)

I just feel like such a bizarre person when I think back on this stuff. Point of this all is that I used to get extremely bogged down on God-thought. I would become frustrated, and stumped, and so had to create an image in my head to solve it all (or at least distract me).

I decided that God was an old, mysterious man. He'd have a white beard, and would have the aura of the bookstore owner in The NeverEnding Story (BEST MOVIE EVER). I would picture God sitting in the middle of a murky nothingness, holding a gargantuan novel in one hand, and a pen in the other. I have always been a writer, and when you are lost in writing, time doesn't really pass. It either stops or you have left it. You are in this other dimension (the creative dimension?) and time does not exist. That helped me solve what life would be like without time. Then I would just think about all of the things God would write. Each molecule would at least have its own page. I would have an entire saga. God wrote down every minute detail that would happen in life. Thus, I reasoned he was omniscient and omnipotent. However, any writer knows that the character does not always do what you planned them to do. You say, "I want you to swing in, save the princess, marry her, and live happily ever after." But somewhere along the way Satan messes with it and instead your character develops a fear of rope and thus cannot swing, does not save the princess, and dies a bachelor. Free will. That explanation is good enough for me.

God is a storyteller. He's the man in Arabian Nights who is the master storyteller. He is the man who can captivate an audience in the first sentence. He's the man who is so good at writing, that we forget we are living out his story.

God is: a pacer

2010-01-24T12:26:00.000-08:00

Apologies, as I definitely promised this post to be up a couple days ago. Life is a busy thing.

It's going to become very clear that I am a stalker kid. I find people-watching calming and thought-provoking. I like to wonder about their lives and what they are thinking about. The last post was about me watching a painter and how I related him to God's peace. A while ago, I posted a poem about a man who paces. He is the subject of the second comparison.

Across from my second-floor apartment, there is a bookstore. This bookstore is my favorite place in Clifton. It is a quiet, old-smelling escape from the noisy street. Above this bookstore is an apartment. The four windows are directly across from my three windows. In said apartment, there is a man. While knowing nothing about him, I am convinced he is at least creative. He only comes out at night. And when he does, it is not to party or do typical idiotic things. He just paces. The two windows on the right belong to his kitchen. And he just paces through them. And drinks water. And his cat stares back at me.

Once, though, he ventured into the left room. The light was finally turned on. And he paced, and paced. And then sat down and furiously began doing..something. I decided that from the movements of his arms he was either typing or playing the piano.

Honestly, I kind of like to think of God like that. There's an aura of mystery about him. He is just a faceless man, in a tiny apartment, constantly preoccupied with the matters of the world. He has already written the story, and is waiting to see how we play it out. Sometimes, there's a hurt in the pace. Sometimes, we choose the wrong route. And Got gets hurt. I like to think that God stays up battling sleepless nights to think about us, to help us. Maybe he's pacing angrily, or sadly, or impatiently, or just thoughtfully. But it brings this rather human aspect to God that I like. He's just eagerly awaiting us to come up the stairs to meet Him face to face. And sometimes, he likes to stop and write a special sunset or an intricate cloud formation-just to make our hearts stop and look. Sometimes, he likes to play music, to write us a song. And that's when we suddenly notice how beautifully composed the seemingly random noise of life is.

So, that's why God is a pacer. I promise I'm not a horrible stalker, I just enjoy staring out the window, observing life from a distance. And then feeling how curious it is to step out and join that life.

Next up: Storyteller :D

God is: a painter

2010-01-22T12:50:00.000-08:00

This past week, I took on the position of "Assistant to the Production Assistant." Official, right?

I was helping my lovely JennFrennd at the high school event, "Pneuma." It's just two hours of really intense God time, and it's different every time. This night was a worship night.

Besides finding out that I actually am half-decent at changing the lyric slides, I thought a lot about uniquely defining my relationship with God. Alton, high school pastor, asked us to write down three words that define Jesus. Mine were painter, pacer, and storyteller. And there is a story behind each.

Painter: There's something you should know about me. I worry constantly and have an anxiety disorder (GAD). It will happen, on occasion, that I freak out to the point of having a panic attack. One afternoon, this happened in the middle of psychology class. I have learned to keep calm, and so talked myself home. I tried all of the calming down methods: yoga, music (Enya or Sigur Ros), warm drink, trying to sleep. But it wasn't working because of this group of stupid people by my apartment. They're always around and they are LOUD. The only way of communication they have is apparently by yelling. If they texted each other, it would be in all caps. The aggravated tones were getting to me. That's when I looked out the window.

A painter was balancing on a ladder a little ways from me. I watched him, like a proper creep, for a long time. Somehow, he was calming to me. I started to breathe and relax. That feeling is as close as I can humanely relate to the way God makes me feel. A lot of my super intense God time seems to focus on rest. I don't plan it that way, God just does it. And afterwards, I feel as though I've been sleeping 100 years. I'm thoroughly refreshed. That is why this painter symbolizes God for me. He was slow and methodical in his movements. He took his time, and repositioned himself to make sure everything would run smoothly. He even took a smoke break. Plus he was painting the background of this building. God's like that: He spent all of eternity (except not, because that's a measure of time, and I'm talkin' bout before time) just creating our story. He stepped back, and made preparations for things that would go wrong. And after he created, he rested.

Focusing on that painter's slow, careful movements is soothing in the way that God's story, slowly and carefully painted, brings peace.

Tomorrow, I'll talk about the pacer :)

The Outline

2010-01-19T19:48:00.000-08:00

It's clear that the things
We have thunk in our heads
Are a lot worse than
The words that we've said

I'm trying to read the pavement:
Decipher the messy splatter
Where your head met the ground.
The truth is what you meant:
Not the clunking clatter
Of your lip's coded sound.

Though there was caution tape
We were reckless
It was a closed case
But we were curious

This never should have been a scene
Tried going but the light's not green
They took chalk and drew the outline
Can't press charges, we're out of time

~~~~~~~~~~~
Not my best work, but I'll figure it out. I need Matt. He always figures out the reality of the melodies. (It's a song. Yes)

A little poem candy

2010-01-12T20:13:00.000-08:00

Some Outside Help

Focal point is lost
Falling, dreaming, running after
Somehow, ignoring the cost
And writing with an unnamed lead.

Stand up, and make the fresh clot bleed
In a grave, miles back, I lost some things
An innocence, a dream, an untamed breed
From when childhood mated with reality

The chain was strong, but I'm an escapee
The traps have been set, the holes covered
Soy debil; the cold, wind feels free
My own chains are strong, but I have the key.

Settling, but not settling down

2010-01-06T15:04:00.000-08:00

Settle: kind of feels like a horrible word.
Settle: rhymes with nettle. Prickly, evil stuff. Think about Jesus' parable of the sower. Chokes the faith out of the believer.

Today has been, AWESOME. And also bad. I got rejected for a job. That was bad. On the A side, I had been feeling like I didn't want to work there anyway. On the A-PLUS side, an article I wrote was published in The News Record! On the EXTRA CREDIT side, I was the only article in today's paper to be commented on. And fifth in popularity.

I had this buzz going. But Jamie was napping. So, I silently did a couple happy dances, and then became bored. But still buzzed! Hello, Bible.

Okay, I'm reading in Exodus. Just in the beginning, chapter four. You know how people say that the Bible just does not "apply to their life?"

What a load of a cow's relative's excrement.

I wasn't reading too deeply into the story, just reading it. This one is all about Moses, and the burning bush, and the plagues, and yoda-yoda-yoda (because what is a yada?). I know this story. I wrote a paper on it in high school. I've got this story in my back pocket.

BUT. And this proves that no matter how well you know the Bible, something new always jumps out.

I was reading in chapter 5, about how Pharaoh is angry and makes Israel work extra hard because of Moses and Aaron. My crazy brain (insane in the membrane) jumps ahead of the story and starts focusing on how the Israelites react to this.
And I quote:
"May the Lord look upon you and judge you (Moses and Aaron). For you have caused us to be hated by Pharaoh and his servants. You have put a sword in their hand to kill us."

Umm. DRAMA QUEENS?????

Seriously though. Work load increased plus beatings equals.... "a sword in their hand to kill us."

Yeah, okay.

And also! Hated by Pharaoh???
Hated?
Because he was just all over them before. Yeah, go Israelites.

Let me fast-forward. God's plan works, the Israelites are freed. There is much praise, rejoicing, and "God-is-good-ing." Current setting: hungry. And quote:

"We should have died by the Lord's hand in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the pots of meat and ate all the bread we wanted. For you have brought us out into this desert to kill all of us with hunger."

Again. WHAT???????????????????????????

Enough with the drama. I now believe that the Israelites are the social equivalent to a helpless, high-school cheerleader.

(No offense to my high-school cheerleaders. Talkin' bout the stereotype ^_^)

I really want to say that this little complaining thing only happened once.
But, just read the Bible. It's embarrassing.

Now, a lot of talks on this aspect of the Israelites is about how it relates to us and how we are never satisfied with God's promise.

This is similar. But more personal and specific.

I'm reading this chapter and I just ask myself "Why do they settle for that?" It quickly turns into "Why do I settle for guys who I know deep-down are not the one?" This whole issue is something I've been dealing with since the Dan-Amanda split.

I have spent more time convincing myself I am in love (with all of the guys I've dated), then really being in love. What is with that? I realized it comes down to some fear. Fear and the fact that I just really love being in a relationship with somebody. The person to text throughout the day. The person to go with to things. The person to cuddle with. The person to kiss. Blah, blah, throw-up, blah.

Backing away from the cheesiness, now.

This is a true thing for a lot of people out there. We spend all this time picturing the perfect person, wanting to be with someone, feeling insecure about it, and then settling on the first person who steps through the door.

Why?

I think it stems from this fear that there's not going to be that someone who can complement you perfectly. You know the things you really want in a person. But maybe spend time convincing yourself it's not that important? I've done that too many times and have ended up sacrificing whole halves of my identity. With one guy it was my poetic, dreamer side. With another, it was the fact that I kind of like the idea of being a stay-at-home mom and would like a husband who can support me. With another, it was the whole side of me that loves being around all kinds of people.

Enough!

Can't we focus on the fact that God has created the PERFECT someone for us?

Not that they are perfect.

But they ARE perfect for us. Yes, there will be sacrifices you have to make. But not ones that jeopardize who you are! God has made someone out there who LIKES all of those things about you. And it's important to know that just because someone falls head over heels for you, does not mean you are going to be head over heels for them. Don't fall for that.

So. This story just reminded me of all that. The Israelites lead this awful life as slaves to the brutal Egyptians. But when God freed them, they wanted back! They could not hold sight of the glorious future God had promised them. They kept thinking of that first guy-the one who took care of them, even if he was dominating and beat them. Do you get what I'm saying? Don't fall too soon. Keep your eyes on the future. God's future for you. When the time is right, there will be this sense of security.

Yeah :)

Peace up!
Amanda

Mutant RedHead?

2010-01-05T15:04:00.000-08:00

Oh, hello!

It's been a while hasn't it? Poor blog.

Yeah, this whole "Christmas-NewYears" thing swept me away to South Carolina and Florida. (sunburn in December. Interesting.)
It's the redheaded skin. It's the worst.
No one should have to suffer from redhead skin.
It's pale. Ghostly so. It's terrifying.
And it burns unnaturally easy. Like it wants to be burnt. Like it wants to hurt me.
And it's sensitive. And for some reason turns red easily.
Like, okay, seriously? My hair is already obnoxiously red, why are you following suit, dear skin? (Is suit spelled differently in that context?)

They say red hair is a genetic mutation.
Who says? I don't know. MLIA for one thing.
Maybe... It is the beginning of a metamorphosis into a fiery phoenix!!!
Maybe we are all some crazy pre-form of Jean Grey. (Gray?)
If so, I'm just waiting for Professor X to show up.
Or maybe it's the slow progression into becoming a Strawberry Shortcake Doll.

I hate those dolls.

So, anyway. I wanted to talk about New Years resolutions. I was thinking of writing an opinion article about it for The News Record, but wrote something WAY cooler. Trust me. Did I mention I wrote an article for the News Record? (Right, right???? Extra points if you heard that in Ted Moesby's voice.)

Uhm, but unnaturally enough, I'm blogged out!

I'm surviving on a total of 14 hours of sleep for the last three nights.
And I haven't had coffee since this morning.

*passes out*

Pacing

2009-12-20T00:43:00.000-08:00

Watched you pace the empty floor;
Watched you pass through a mural of windows.
But then you stopped, settled down;
Were you typing, or playing the piano?

When will my eyes settle down?
When will my mind seem to finally slow down

What's on your mind, love
Whatchya thinkin' of
Why do you pace
Why's your heart racin'
What's on your mind, love
and what's your name
Why do you pace
And why's my heart racin'

I saw your light, but you were gone
Saw the faucet and a glass of water
You stepped out into the rain
Were you going for work or for pleasure?

When will my eyes settle down?
When will my mind seem to finally slow down

What's on your mind, love
Whatchya thinkin' of
Why do you pace
Why's your heart racin'
What's on your mind love
and what's your name
Why do you pace
And why's my heart racin'

Stranger, across the street
Wonder if we could ever meet
Stranger, there is peace
As our thoughts flow face to face

I was productive, maybe still am.
But I got into an argument.
It's sad.
And frustrating.
I don't wanna be the bigger person. kay?

a;sldihfg;z.xlnvalsehf;oush
Stupidity.

A miniscule issue

2009-12-07T11:04:00.000-08:00

I'll have a milkshake, swirled
With life and love, hurled
All over the conversation
Ended up at the gas station
Blind myself in the red tail lights
The faster I drive, the farther the fights
Balancing a heart and a mind, it's tricky
Trying to deal with people, sticky
The way two people can fall for
Each other, and then somehow ignore
The pain, the anger of the other
The spirit, the love that now smothers
We're choking, we're struggling, gasping
The blanket turned pillow, and we're grasping
For each other, for some oxygen
The finish-him bell sounds, but then
We're holding tighter, running farther
Coexisting without growing stronger
And then it's all of a sudden,
For me, though not for you, and then
You're on the other side of the door
But, I'm inside sorting through the gore
Throw things around, like my heart
Turn around, grab my keys, try to start
Up the car, up my life, up my...
soul.

Disassociation

2009-12-06T22:17:00.000-08:00

I was driving around looking for parking earlier. There were two cop cars at this one house I drove by. There was also this kid. He had some hair, and it was curly and big. This kid was being hand-cuffed against the cop car. His face was calm.

1+2+2=5. It is 1:22 as I write. That little equation is what always goes through my head when I check the time.

My fingers are almost numb. It is possibly in the 50's in my apartment. Hurrah for saving gas.

I broke my thumb nail because of the cold and because of my laptop. The real blame goes to my backpack for being difficult, though. It is a pretty bad break. And also it hurt.

I'm hungry. Very hungry. It's possible that I haven't had food in years. I am that hungry.

That is life past midnight.

Breakthrough

2009-12-02T19:05:00.000-08:00

This is completely insane.
And I love it :)

As often happens when I'm forced to spend my evening alone, I began to feel sorry for myself. I watched a romantic comedy, with many pauses to do things like sing sad songs (recorded two, wrote one)... I sat on the couch and stared out the window, watching people walk by, wondering what they were thinking about. I found these four windows, directly across from me, right above the little Germanesque bookstore. And there was this person, all in black, pacing. It was mesmerizing. I wanted to know what was wrong, or what was going on in their head. I fell in love, said a prayer for them, and started singing. I learned how to spin without moving: stared at the fan and turned myself with one foot. Then I finished the movie... (My Best Friend's Wedding)

All that time, that feeling was just growing. Slowly, sneakily. After the movie, I walked around thinking about how restless my heart is, and wishing it could just shut up and be happy. Wishing that I would not miss being in love so much. Wishing that God's love would be enough for my romantic heart. Wishing that I would get up and get dressed for Him, not for some guy I may never meet. (That was not meant depressing, just honest)

The loneliness, the silence, the emptiness of this apartment. I checked facebook, to get it out of the way to do my schoolwork. Checked networked blogs because I had a new follower. And this is where it gets crazy.

I have 44 followers, and even though I doubt many read this religiously or comment or whatever. The point is that 44 people thought it important enough to accept another stupid facebook application just to follow me. I was looking through the faces, and that's when it just hit me. Out of nowhere, I realized I am not alone anymore. It dawned on me that people really care; that I am in the most beautiful community. I have people to go home to; I have friends on campus; I have an amazing church and community in it; I have amazing roomates. People care about me.

That may sound stupid or obvious. It's just never really hit me like that.

And the funny thing is... This is funny, because I was just telling Josh Newman how I never do this, and never could understand why people did this... I literally started crying out of happiness.

I cannot believe that.

This sensation of a layer being peeled off of my heart was so acute. This warmth built up in the center of me, and I knew some wall had just fallen. And then I just started crying...

I looked at my great grandpa's crucifix and thought of my story so far, my journey. All of a sudden, I could see Jesus' footsteps throughout it. I knew this warmth was coming from him. I knew that this feeling was realizing that He'd been holding my hand, leading me. And my palms are tingly. I know that this warmth is a fountain, of love, ready to overflow.

Two years ago I never could have pictured this place, this time. I cannot describe to you the loneliness, the depression that used to swamp my life, used to be my life. I don't think that my heart ever became accustomed to not living that lifestyle. Even though the loneliness went away, the depression died down, and joy rose up, my heart still was still refusing to be pierced through. It moved forward, it grew happy, but it kept that layer of protection, of sadness.

I can still feel the freshness of new skin. That layer has been shed, has dropped into a waste-bin. I cried while smiling, whispering "thank-you," feeling closer than I ever have to God, feeling the Holy Spirit and love inside me stronger than ever.

This is a lot more personal than anything I would ever post... But I really want to share. Because you mean a lot to me.

That's all then :)

Fluttery by, butterfly

2009-12-02T08:32:00.000-08:00

Anagrams!

Amanda Evans is saved manana
Amanda Michele Evans is a maniac named Shelve
Amanda Michele Freaking Evans is a Macadamia Elf serving Hen Ken

Brilliant ^_^

You love me.

Let's be real

2009-11-30T14:49:00.000-08:00

Before I forget!!!: God special man can't even imagine how good so restless

Okayy...

Sorry 'bout that. I was watching Sybil (1976) earlier, and this thought came to me. I really needed to write it down so I could remember it, but I didn't. It flew away too fast. I wanted to blog about it, though! God is good, and it just so happened that the second I opened this once blank document, the thought returned. It's funny, you know that song? "If you love someone, let them go," by the Dizmas?

"If you love someone let them go and if they come back to you their yours
If you love something set it free if it comes back to you it's yours"

This just hit me. My brain works really fast, and I have the worst short-term memory. I go crazy all of the time because I can't remember what I was thinking about 30 seconds before! But if a thought comes back to you, then maybe that thought was meant to be explored, yeah?

I really am sorry. After watching a movie about some form of insanity, it takes a while for my brain's clarity to return. I tend to adopt the crazies.

If this is all really jumbled, I apologize.

That was all just pre-course to the actual blog, which starts now:

Have you ever felt paralyzed? Like, you can't even do the things you love doing? (coincidentally, that's a symptom of depression and ADHD. Curse abnormal psych.)
(Also, note that I do NOT think I have depression. ADHD is another question, haha.)

This is my problem for a long time now! I just feel paralyzed towards my school work and writing in general.

It's bad.

I had to force myself to write this blog! Just so I can maybe get all of this stress out and return to homeostasis. I wonder if homeostate is a word. Blogger says no. Oh well.

The thing is, I think so intensely about writing that I'm terrified to do it. By the time I sit down to write, the task seems enormous. I like editing papers, though. I've been doing that a lot recently. But the writing is hard. Especially, if the topic is dull or overly-complicated.

I promise after this I will write all of my papers!

Hold me to, that, 'kay?

This is what I want to do.
(I thought of this yesterday.)

I want to write a blog, that is word for word how I think.

The raw, unedited Amanda
(Run, while you still can)

That is absolutely terrifying, right?

We'll see how it goes.

I have to keep all of these spaces between the sentences, because the thoughts feel separate and disconnected. If they go together, they'll be together.

So... I want to tell you about all of my annoying quirks. I've never listed them before; should be interesting. I don't think a semicolon belonged there. I've never understood semicolons.

1. During almost any and every movie, I have to exit at some point to pee. The plot moves too quickly and makes me extremely tense.
2. A lot of times I "forget to listen." I will say that to you at least once. It is what it is, I forget to listen. (Circles 'round to the ADHD question.)
3. ^^^Because of this, don't be surprised if I have to ask you the same question multiple times. Again. It is what it is.
4. Three is my favorite number. I like everything to be divisible by three. This four was originally a three; and when I changed it, I felt bothered. (Is that semicolon right?)
5. I have no idea how to dress myself. I always looks different, and no one can define my "style."
6. SOMETIMES, I talk a lot. Sometimes, I don't talk at all.
7. I spend a lot of time in my head, and think speedily. Sometimes, the things I say might not make sense. It can take a minute for me to realize that you were not there for half of the conversation. (That sounds like schizophrenia. Abnormal psych has made me the worst hypochondriac ever.)
8. My laugh is completely annoying
9. I move around a lot, because my muscles are antsy.
10. If I am trying to tell you a story, you may have to remind me several times what I'm talking about. Again, my mouth can't move as fast as my mind.
11. I really like hugs and holding hands! But I'm very careful not to pop your personal bubble.
12. Lastly, (because 12 is divisible by three, and four which can also be a good number), I am the hardest person to get in contact with. I always forget to text back, and I strongly dislike (not hate) talking on the phone. Ambiguous voices.

So that's what I can presently remember!

I'm done now. I just needed to get out all the mental words, so I can write the good words. Think 8 or so papers. It's wonderful.

Oh, I'll cover that thought at the beginning in a later blog. This one is already tedious and boring. I just needed to write the thought down, so that I can remember it.

I know this is unedited and sounds crazy, but it was relieving to write.
I'm being selfish and writing for me. But blogs are so narcissistic anyway.
*Zips lips*

2009-11-24T20:50:00.000-08:00

So. I am sitting here, pantsless and a little frustrated.
I can't seem to remember where I put my PJ pants :( (Which they are fantastic, btw. Warm, fuzzy, with reindeers)

I'm really trying to only blog once a day! But, then I get these ideas, and I want to say something. It ends badly, with me feverishly typing at the computer.

Somethingstore.com ... Use with caution.
You basically send in ten dollars, and then send you something... crazy stuff.
But, DUDE. I feel like I won the lottery. They sent me a $60 scarf.
What up.

Hey, wow, my head is hitting that point of sleep. Remember, like I said in the last blog? Me and that narcolepsy thing?
That was so cool. I was sitting here thinking about how I feel like it's going to be another insomnia night... How I'll wake up tired, but unable to sleep. and then BOOM. Sleep. sleep... Soo.

This was awfully short. And possibly pointless...

But there's just not much more awakeness in me!

Jesus is beautiful.

I'm really fascinated by the Holy Spirit right now

I just have this ethereal, breath-taking image of It in my head.

I like thinking about that ^_^

When I was a little child, I was bothered by wondering what God did all those years before creating the world. Can you even imagine the boredom? Me neither.

Eventually, I solved the problem. I created this image of God sitting there, pen in hand, writing out every minute detail of life in a ginormous volume. Then, I would picture finding a chapter with my name. Isn't that intense? To have a WHOLE chapter?

Love it.

Anyway,
I want it to be Christmas, so I can run into the sea

Goodnight lovebirds!

Tingly sensation

2009-11-23T21:49:00.000-08:00

There's a field of butterflies in my heart. That is how I describe my insomnia. Normally, at typically midnight thirty (or way earlier, or at random points in the day), this thing happens where I can literally feel a switch in my brain flip off. And I fall asleep. Doesn't matter what I'm doing, where I'm at, who I'm with... I fall asleep. It's happened in the middle of horrible arguments, when texting people, while driving, etc, etc. I just shut off. I have zero control over it and it's extremely aggravating. But sometimes, (for reasons unbeknownst to me) it does not work that way. Instead, my daytime feeling lasts until very late. I lay down, I close my eyes, I try to relax... And that's when it's completely clear to me what it is to be awake. The feeling of awakeness is painfully acute. Oh, I want to go to bed, I need to go to bed, I have to wake up in five hours, blah, blah, blah. Doesn't matter. My fingers are jittery, my foot starts tapping against the blankets, my eyes flit backwards and forwards, rolling at my attempt at sleeping. I feel all tingly everywhere.... Like my body is just itching for me to take on the world, to conquer! Sleep? What is sleep? I don't need that! Tonight, my palms were tingly and wanting to rest against this laptop. My fingers tensed, ready to type at a silly pace of 111 wpm. Thoughts, flowing, out of nowhere, words bottling up at the tips of my fingers. So, I am not going to suck them back up, instead I will release them! But really, all I wanted to say is that feeling awake is having your heart transformed into a field of butterflies. I can just feel these little flutters in my heart, reminding me that there is love, and beauty, and joy, and creativity. The key is to talk to these butterflies, and even more, to release them!

I feel compelled to write...

2009-11-23T06:49:00.000-08:00

I'm listening to Owl City. Adam Young makes me want to write and write...
His music makes my heart want to sing along
(Which, coincidentally, a doctor has told me my heart is known to hum.. It's getting there)

Ever feel like an anomaly?
I do, a lot.
I feel like I'm just very strange and out of place
Or like I was meant to be the wind, and not a human being
Or maybe a bird
But, then I have thoughts, and remember why I'm human.
Which is cool, although I would like to fly

Doctors are very obscure about me
Apparently I don't do a lot of things right?
Like blinking,
I don't close my eyes all the way apparently
I CAN, I just don't
Which makes sense, I hate missing out on things

And then breathing
My heart rate is "abnormal" (?)
Because I don't breathe right
How I fix this is a mystery
I don't recall learning how to breathe...?
(or blink for that matter)

So.
Don't know if that makes me a medical anomaly
But it is definitely strange

Does anyone else use parentheses rather frequently?
Whenever I have an afterthought, I feel like it needs parentheses
Because that way it reads like I'm thinking

I'm just thinking

I like to watch people's faces when I walk
It's funny to think that there's a whole universe in that face

And bookstores?
Don't you love bookstores?
But not new ones. That's kind of pointless (in some ways)
But the old ones.. Where you can only find one of each book
Each book is its own distinguished person, with its own distinct smell
It's so comforting... Like being in an old person's home
It feels safe

Actually, there's this bookstore across the street from me. It's tiny, and could be lost, but I found it
Every time I'm in there, I feel like Sebastian in the NeverEnding Story. Hiding, because no one would come into an old bookstore.

I found Keats, Milton, and the brothers Grimm last time I visited
We are all going to have coffee sometime

Well, I'm done thinking, ready for sleeping

Ciao !

The Outline

2009-11-21T22:32:00.000-08:00

Dust Speck

2009-11-19T21:34:00.000-08:00

Once, there was a dust speck. And he floated and bumped along, happy, innocent. He flew over the people, the world, and saw everything with a smile and the knowledge of being loved and being special. Until one morning, being alone, he had a self-reflective thought. And it dawned on him that he might actually be extremely annoying and weird. This tiny thought dragged the dust speck down, down, until he landed behind a fridge. The dust speck is still there today, with all of the other philosophical dust specks.

Stop.

2009-11-13T13:05:00.000-08:00

You're growing like a tree, stop.

Life is speeding by me, stop.

I'm thinking I'm right here

But I'm really then or there, stop.

Tick-tock...

I wish I could slow down time, stop.

Desperately searching the next rhyme, stop.

The seasons are flying by

Quickly, without reason or why, stop.

Tick-tock...

Waking up and I'm ancient, stop.

Feeling this new old man scent, stop.

Woken up by my own snoring

Realizing the clock was never boring, stop.

Tick-tock...

Bent over, like a withered, old tree-man

Eternal, soft, frozen breath, stills my pen.

Stop.

Jesus

2009-11-11T20:08:00.001-08:00

Really feeling the aftermath
of what it is to be objectified
Seeking out my definition
in the shallow of someone's lies

Various faces, to obsess, to undress
me with your eyes, while your mind is a mess
and I thinking innocence, and I acting senseless
This lesson is the hardest-to understand meaninglessness
(Which words only become in your mouth)

Looking back and searching past
Shifting through shit, while truth fades fast
One solitary name, ringing, piercing, lasts
In my mind, racing fast

Jesus, Jesus, more than a name
Jesus, Jesus, giving you my pain
Collapsing, crumbling at your throne
Nothing left of me, no skin, no bone
Replacing, redefining, me with You
New eyes, your eyes, to see me through
Jesus, Jesus, take me higher
Jesus, Jesus, my only desire

Noise

2009-10-26T20:36:00.000-07:00

What is that constancy
and what is silence?
What is the foreground,
but where is the background?
What makes that flurry
and who makes the buzzing?
What is it to be suspended in the ignorance of a creature?
To hear (do they hear?)
but never to comprehend?
and what is color?
What if it had sound?
Would I be a green or an orange?
or something entirely unique...
Why do we wonder?
Who does the moon greet when he rises early?
(I want it to be me)
Why do we wish?
and is there ever complete silence?

Dear God,

2009-10-23T09:20:00.000-07:00

*A couple of people wanted me to post this a long while ago, but I didn't.. Now I am!)

Such purity, such beauty, such love
Self-sacrifice inside a moment
Care for the one that needs be caring

A history
A pocket-sized novel
Whose back is tested by morphine
Pictures
Free-floating on a wall, in a phone
Looking into the eyes of past captured
A treasure box
Tiny keys, minute clues
That open and re-open a tired mind
An extra layer
Scaly, tough, trapping
A heart that only wants to connect
A long wait
For God's blade to puncture
The terminal to get back to feeling
A breaking
A desire to heal, to make happy
The reality of a long-coming separation
A one-way street
Inability to return
Looking back and tasting salt
A fork
The road with love
And the one of freedom
The hatred
A heart that twisted
A heart tied off from the brain
The bookmark
To pause or to close
Or to look for a new book
A new world
Thrown amidst the unexpierienced
Lost
The cry
Trust, love, pray
Begging for direction
Please help,
In Jesus' name
Amen

Soul Gift

2009-05-24T19:24:00.000-07:00

Before my soul filled this body, it was simply a thought in God's mind. My soul was a thought before the beginning of time. As history was written, my soul became an idea. Then, some spring day, I was conceived. God reached in his head and pulled out the idea that is my soul. He gifted it to embryonic me, and I became a person. And after life, God takes my soul back. But instead of living in his head, I get to live in his home... heaven.

Insert Interesting Title

2009-04-30T22:30:00.000-07:00

Welllll. Honest to God, my days without you are completely boring. Wednesday I woke up and went to work, then worked out, then back to work. Sooo. Wednesday was extremely uninteresting *except for the 15 $ giftcard to starbucks my manager gave me :D*

Todayyy, I went straight to school after waking up. Picked up a bunch of books from the library and ...bum bum bumm
TALKED TO YOU ON THE PHONE!!! yes it's true. It is surprisingly antagonizing to not be able to just call you whenever. I don't know how many times I've picked up my cell and been like "wait..."
Anyway. After that I experienced the most painful eyebrow wax of my life. The brows LOOK better then they ever have...Minus the red marks. Yeah. Pain. Pain. Pain. I have neosporin on my eyelids. Basically. Hate that woman. Never goin back.
Watched Yes Man with Dan, Dom, Matt, Mikey, Yott, and Kristen, which was fun. After they all left the Trippin Redheaded Trio watched blindness. It was an extremely intense movie, in which they never really gave you the answer. Which was aggravating. So the end to my two days :D lol

I realize these are extremely boring I'm just honestly trying to keep mom and dad in the loop of my life

I love you guys!

Peace
amanda

Nucleated

2009-04-28T19:37:00.000-07:00

Well. I honestly don't have much interesting things to say!!! Yesterday, I woke up and studied for Bio lab, and then went and took the test. It was okay. But after that I dissected a sheep's eyeball! It smelled bad, BUUT it was like jello! the vitreous humor was literally like jello and the little lens was connected to it. sweet stuff.

Can't remember what I did after that... but Amanda Pierce overdosed. So that was nice and dramatic. I stopped by the hospital to comfort Kiley while she was waiting.

Doug was over so we all ended up just hanging out watching him play Fallout. We watched house which was pretty fantastic! I fell asleep on the couch..woke up about 2 and started talking to mikey in my sleep about some girl being too loud..then I realized I was talking in my sleep and apologized and went to bed. weird lol.

Annnyyywayyyy. Slept in today and then rushed off to school. Class was pretty nonchalant so I don't know what to say really... Buut afterwards Dan came over and we all watched the Covenant. Which was really crappy although Mike George said it would be good... lol. It sucked. big time. and we had pizza which did not suck! Then Dan left (after I had a pms outburst) and now Mikey and I are watching American idol. Adam is fantastic as always!!! he's gonna win just fyi

Sooo that's really my boring life right now lol. Nucleated is the word I created yesterday btw. It's when a person is exposed to nuclear radiation.

anyways. miss you guys :(
Love you!
amanda

When your skin matches your hair and....

2009-04-27T06:48:00.000-07:00

you're a redhead-you have a problem. My problem, currently. My back is a wee bit red. I'm not lovin' it. *cue mcdonalds themesong*

So. Thus begins the Ten Days of Blogging. Yes, for the next ten days I am going to be blogging to my parents who have deserted me and Cincinnati for Italy. Can you blame them though? I mean.. Italy.
So, here goes. Starting with the ride to church from the airport: I sped home as best I could but traffic did not allow sometimes. So we got there about 20 minutes late. But it was a good talk (you guys should check it out. Then we went by Krogers to pick up some sandwich meat and cheese. We thought about taking our picnic to Kheener park but... it's one of the first nice Sundays of the year. The loudness and packedness of Kheener helped us settle on the backyard. We made three sandwiches and cut them into triangles :) Ron was gardening so that was fun to watch.
After we ate and just kinda sat there for a while I asked Dan, "So, do you want to read LOTR, go play tennis, or wade in the creek?" And he said tennis. So I actually attempted to play tennis. And it was very hot. And I wasn't HORRIBLE, but hey. It was fun. After that I found out that Dan had never waded before (What kind of childhood is that?). He was scared at first and complained a LOT...haha. But I forced him into it and made him pick up some squishy seaweed things which he found digusting but fun. Then we squelched our feet in the mud (is there a lovelier nastier feeling?). Again he was a baby about it at first..but then loved it. We rinsed our feet off and were walking out when to my horror I saw a LEECH. on my foot. in between my toes. Normally I would have thought it was some kind of tiny black worm. Unfortunately though, I learned in biology last week that leeches can be as tiny as a couple centimeters. This one was about 2 millimeters thick and 2 centimeters long. CREEEPPPYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. You know me. I was disturbed. But it rinsed off (thank you Jesus). Thus ended the creek adventure.

We went back upstairs and it was getting late (He had to be home by 9:30), so Dan ran off to get garlic bread and ice cream. I cleaned up because...yeah I was a hot mess. Now it was kinda freaky because I was starting to realize what it meant that you guys were both gone for 10 days. And for whatever reason that put me in a cleaning frenzy. I had Dan take out the trash. I was organizing. It was strange. I may go to the ER later to make sure I'm okay... But anyway lol. When he got back, we made a playlist together of some romantic songs (Okay mostly I made it but hey he did help with his knowledge of hardcore music...??? okay maybe not but he did have a couple good inputs :)). I got the water boiling and preheated the oven while we were playlisting. Then we cooked! He stirred the noodles (which he apparently does not know how to do?? lol) and put the bread in the oven (his forte). Oh and he was my garlic crusher. Wow, that sounds strange... but okay. I think I put too much seasoning in the sauce, but it was still good, so thanks mom :)
I laid my comforter out on the side of the roof facing Ron and put our playlist on. I put some candles out too but they wouldn't light because of the wind...so they just sat there until it calmed down an hour later. We ate spaghetti out of the green mixing bowl (haha, well I couldn't risk the glass Italian chef bowl on a roof) and stuffed ourselves. We watched night fall as we played the question game. Then we prayed and cleaned it all up.

He had seven more minutes so I sat on his lap in that reddish armchair and buried my face in his neck, and oh geez. He asked me what I was thinking about and I said "honestly? I miss my parents." and started crying. There it is okay? Confession of the week lol.

So that was yesterday the big anniversary :)

But anyway, today's post will probably be boring (I mean the one on today that I post later tonight), because all I'll be doing is examing and biologying. woohoo.

Miss you guys already
Have superfun and stick your hand into the Mouth of Truth for me!!!
(then quote Audrey and Peck)
I love you!
peace,
amanda

Tuning in by tuning out

2009-03-16T13:29:00.000-07:00

Stop. Turn around. Run up the stairs.
Search. Find I-Pod. Run down the stairs.
and step outside...

To give life a soundtrack is art
slip on my headphones: peace.
search, select, synchronize step
Tuned out from the chaos, or-
tune into the alternate world..
my step becomes a metronome
everyone else's: percussion
arms swishing, guitar srum
their voices have meshed with the bass
and the wind is singing, i kiss the lipless
so i smile..
the day becomes new slang

Holes

2009-02-08T18:06:00.003-08:00

There used to be a heart there
Used to feel a beat, a throbbing
but that spot has become nowhere
the heart become nothing

I keep blinking, but you aren't here
i feel like i'm dreaming
I open my eyes, but you don't appear
but i really feel like i'm dreaming...

reality won't really sink in right now
i keep pleading with God to let me believe
it seems we've reached the end somehow
but i still just can't believe...

why does there always have to be a goodbye?
for once i thought i might see a forever...
everything loves to fall apart on me
even this rhyme.

i keep reaching inside to feel something
and cry when i feel the emptiness
there's a hole there
there used to be a heart...

poetryaholic

2009-01-28T14:14:00.000-08:00

i know, i know.
it's only been, what, 2 hours since my very first blog post? (or around there i am terrible at tracking time)
and already i've given up on capitalization. it's a waste really. the period is where the sentence definition is really at, guys!<--- oh and that little excited character.

anyway. here i am stuck inside with 8 inches of glorious snow outside my window! my roof has transformed into a sparkling white sea. and life is reflected in the glassy trees :)

on days like this i tend to either write or read. so i went back on some of my older stuff from last year. and figured, hey! i like blogging. so i'm gonna share some stuff! let people see the side that isn't so apparent all the time.

okay, this one kind of fits in with today as it is extremely cloudy. but i love the clouds!

disciple of the clouds

take me with you!
fingerpainted clouds as you softly run away.
take me with you, to see the world!
from above, how peaceful we all must look...
from up above, where the voices become a dulled song.
you have time to dream
as you float across the sky
and you nourish when you cry.
it's the most lovely and healing pain
when you decide to rain...
take me with you!
teach me to bless others with my sorrow!
teach me to be at peace!
teach me to fly, to see, to sing...
take me with you!
i will be the disciple of the clouds
i will see the world and see
that there is still good, amidst the clouds
from up above, i will learn
take me with you! take me with you...

and then there's this one, which has to do more with the rain

who am i?

raindrops and coffee beans;
amandy or the converse queen?
let's stand on the roof in the rain;
grab your hand and scream the trees.
pictures of my knife, memoirs of the pain;
burnt to ashes with love and hot tears.
my shattered heart forms in the pool below.
ashes to ashes, i sing aloud
life as the water droplets forming a cloud.
running, gasping, slamming doors...
you're too weak to open them.
but then you've probably already forgotten.
sobbing prayers into the arms of some angel...
to be noticed, to be loved..
i finally am chosen

ahh, and this is one of my odd attempts at homage to emily dickinson. but it relates because of the fire mention, and how many of you have fires going today, hmm?

incompatibility
(throwing the scabs back at you)

You're about as real as origami-
and just as flameable too
String you up like a paper crane-
Blow you out-make a wish-
The seance is just beginning-
But I'm leaving-for living laughter

Chalk can't write on-paper-
and pencils break on pavement
You couldn't change me-
and I just broke on-you-

You're about as real as a fountain drink-
and just as nasty too
Fill you up in my water bottle-
Crinkled up-thrown away-
The stream has starte dflowing-
But I'm leaving-for purified water

HI-C doesn't mix with-coke-
and coke shouldn't be diet
You didn't match with-me-
and I stayed cute, but rotted inside

You're faker than a DVD fire-
and just as cold too
Flip you up on the TV screen-
Stare, I'm bored-Stare, I'm lonely-
The picture falme is cracklin-
Wonder-what in the hell I'm doing

The writer didn't like his script
The script confused the-director-
You never really liked me
and I never, never got-you.

okay this next one doesn't TOTALLY relate, but it's another emily dickinson fan so...(it's actually also a lullaby although i haven't finished the melody)

Color Between the Dashes

Rainbow in the shadow-
oh-
why do you hide-so
Far away-
When you could easily brighten-
Up my day-hey-
Rainbow in the shadow
There's no time for-shallow
thinkin' today
We all have a need for honest feelin's-
So base this moment-on feelin'-wonderful
Rainbow in the shadow-
Reflecting through the window-
Oh-
My thoughts reflect-back-
Across the pages-of balloons-
And voyages-discovery.
Rainbow in the shadow-
I want to go-dance and move on-
But I want you to come along-
And, oh-
Color me the truest-way
Wash away the blacks-grays-white
Rainbow in the shadow
Oh-
Help these colors flow-together
I'll-remember-your lines of paint
and re-construct a life-for us-both
Step out of the shadow-
The rain has fallen-the sun is callin'

aha! I was desperately looking through my writing box for this next one...it distinctly has to do with snow! i wrote it last year when all was melting away, and i drove out to the vineyard just to have a moment with God in the parking lot..this was the obscure little result :p

I wish I could fly and
be liberated dfrom the ground, so quickly
that I'll fall amongst the clouds.
My red flames will be doused in eternal blue.
The surviving piles of snow might really
be clouds that floated down from heaven.
There's an earth-bound cloud nearby
Maybe it helped some angel down to comfort
me.
Where is God but all around?
The wind on my cheeks is his
comforting breath.
a train yells reminding me of other homes...
The sky reflects my thoughts
as it is somehow a quilt of my life.
Stretching out like I dumped all my memories onto a dance floor.
I think I might be reliving some
forgotten day...
It's hard to remember the antithesis
of life now and life then.
I'm seventeen...not ten?
It just goes to show how God
stays the same through it all
Real as today, as he was every yesterday.
the world and i can change, but He's
always the same
From Adam and Eve to me.
Amanda the child..Amanda the broken...Amanda the healed...
Amanda the chosen.

and here's something for today (I'm writing this now, so who nows how it will turn out?)

my ice cream is melting,
but the snow outside still glistens with
secret glee.
what do you know, little snowflake?
how can one little sculputure of perfection
fall from the sky and become something as vast
and brilliant as the ocean
they sparkle with a similar mischief,
a similar knowledge
secrets buried, to melt away
the snow melts, the clouds carry it away
and back into the ocean
where the melted flakes mesh with the water
they share secrets over tea and krill
and then back again to rain or snow...
sometimes they even talk about me, and you
i've met some decent snowflakes before
they kiss my cheek and dance in my hair
we talk; they tell me the news of the world
and then they melt away
to journey somewhere else
but we had a moment, white on red
and i learnt to be mischievous as them
and keep their little secrets
so when you see my smile
as i walk through a blizzard;
ask:
what do you know, little snowflake?
they are but dying to love you

and that's all for me, loves

for now. ;)

ciao bella

Surrender

2009-01-28T10:34:00.000-08:00

I've done it. I've given into this blogging obsession that abounds around here.

This is so strange! I've gone back about three years to the xangaing years... ahh. Those were the days. Well. In a way. I suppose every farewell to the past is a good thing. Even if we have to wave goodbye to the good as well as the bad...

Anywho. I suppose that I should explain my name here. Well, actually three names. We'll start with super trooper. Wait, I lied. I want to start with Loony Daray. Translated loosely (from me piecing together some very weak Latin), it says Dark Insanity. This all goes back to my old friend Jessica (online friend). She was obsessed with pirates (as was everyone on our little forum), and she gave everyone pirate names! Mine was Aimie Swindler the Loon-Loony on deck. After that Loony became my gamer name/online name. para exemple, when I play Zelda I am always Loony instead of Link. Then I got bored of that and lengthened it. SO...yeah!

BTW, it's going to be very hard for me to continue typing properly and what not. All the years of AIM language have really inhibited my typing talent.

Anyway, the url for my site is DreamingOfFire. This goes way back to when I created my first website on xanga. Ever since then, every url has been the same. Xanga, myspace, photobucket, etc. (except I did have a second xanga dedicated solely to my writing that had a different unmentionable name). I'm not really sure what the story behind it is, except that I'm something of a pyromaniac.

Now back to the blog name! Super Trooper. Years and years ago, when I was Superchick's first number one fan (still am, loves), this was my favorite song. When the album first came out and I somehow got a hold of it, I fell in love with this song. (track 4 I think?). I would listen to it in my room and dance around and jump. The love has never died between us. My license plate has a plaque (soon to be put on) that says Super trooper 4 Jesus :D

anyway. the name explaining is done. that's all you guys get! I hope the parentheses weren't too annoying. I never realized how heavily I rely on them, but it is pretty ridiculous!

Sooo....
I guess that's all for me. I'll try not to post toooo much but I am one heck of a frequent blogger.

oh I do gotta should out a holla to God for all this snow and ice! it's absoluely beautiful on the one hand, and saved me from a calculus exam on the other!

alright
lots of love and hugs to everyone because my heart is bursting from this dive back into the blogging world! makes me love you all tons :D (Weird how i say "you all" even though i don't have any readers yet... oh well)
loony out!