Beautiful Soul

ew.

I began this blog a few years ago as a way to improve my writing. This suggestion was given to me by my older brother. It has been months, if not a year since I have even visited this poor, neglected blog. It's almost painful to return to this blog because i cringe as I read each post. Each post seems more affected and ridiculous than the one before.
It seems I was compelled to write about lofty topics that would appeal to the masses. What masses?

So why restart such a tired project?
This same brother sent me a link to the blog of another college student that chronicled her journey through college. She just sat and wrote about her life, her thoughts, and the ways all of it was changing her. She didn't try to sound intelligent, ambitious, or even sure of herself. She just wrote.
I could kick myself for not writing a blog for the past few years. My semester abroad was prime blogging territory. However, the chance is gone. I'm not going to blog about the past.
So, if I decide to write again, I only want to write as myself, not some crazy version of me.
If, if, if, if...

Words

Gossip is ugly.
Your words are a lie.
Feeble attempts to prove they know more about me than I.

My dignity is mine.
Words strike deep.
My composure and my reputation I am fighting to keep.

The tongue is a flame.
Read James chapter 3.
Think twice next time you try to demoralize me.

The actions of which you speak
Are the worst sort of dehumanization
Of me, woman, God’s prized creation.

Female, am I.
Male, are you.
Remember, I have dignity too.

Patience. May take up to 20 seconds.

So I'm on Facebook, "writing a paper" AKA wasting time doing the usual Facebook things. Then, the disclaimer on the page load read something to the effect of "Please be patient. Page load may take up to 20 seconds."

I laughed (alot) at the idea that Facebook was apologizing for making me wait 20 seconds.

I mean, I'm wasting time and doing nothing already, so what is 20 more seconds going to do?

This seemingly insignificant detail is proof of the fact that we have lost the ability to wait for anything. We want everything immediately. This could be due to the fact that the page that came up was not in fact worth the 20 second wait; but if nothing is worth waiting for, what's the point of living? What are we even living for anymore?

Take Lent, for example. I gave up sweets for Lent. I caved after a week like a Whitney to some crack. After I cheated once it became less of an ordeal and more of a small oops! I couldn’t think past the chocolate in front of me to the beauty of Easter in 40 days. So, needless to say, when Easter came around my excitement level was not where it normally was. The fact that I didn’t make the small sacrifices before, diminished my ability to fully participate in the glory of Easter. I couldn’t WAIT for something as small as sweets ruined the much larger, delayed celebration. Despite my twinge of regret, God still made Easter beautiful.

There are more important things in life to wait for than mindless web pages and chocolate cake but if we refuse to wait, they become much less important.

Music Abounds!

This is my current musical obsession

http://www.blogotheque.net/spip.php?page=cae_all&lang=fr

This site is really fascinating due to the eclectic mix of artists it hosts, along with the fact that not a word of the text on the page is in english. Due to the overwhelming amount of artists, I reccommend starting with "Tegan and Sarah" or "Margot and the Nuclear So & Sos".

Something Beautiful

I saw something beautiful as I stared off into space in the library.

There was an old little nun seated behind a large book she seemed to be studying for some important purpose. After many minutes elapsed, she shut the cumbersome volume and her eyes. She exhaled and slowly made the sign of the cross. She sat with her bony fingers tightly intertwined as if she was holding onto something with all of her being. I had never seen anyone pray that way in all my years as a missionary kid or in my entire time at this Catholic university. She prayed as if she were all alone with God, even though she was in the middle of a very crowded library. She didn't seem to be asking God for help with the book since she was finished with it. Rather, she seemed to be thanking Him for the gift of the knowledge inside. Her face, when she emerged from her prayer, seemed unwrinkled and young for a split second and I envisioned her as a younger form of herself as she calmly rose from the table to return the book to the shelf.

How often do we thank God for the knowledge at our fingertips?

In that moment, beauty was simplicity.

untitled.

Hi, I’m them.
Those people.
That problem.

Throw money at me so I can succeed?
No.
You’re not fulfilling my real need!

Accept me to college
Fill my head with knowledge
But the first thing we will all acknowledge:
I am a them.
Part of the they.
I hear that shit every day.
“Do you speak Mexican?”
“Oh, I love tortillas!”
“I bet your name is Maria!”

So maybe it is Maria...

But until you try and cure my so called ignorance,
Cure yours.
While you demand that foreigners learn what is it to be American
Learn what it is to be Mexican, Chinese, African, or Puerto Rican.
Educate yourself, beyond the bookshelf.

Try learning about me
Instead of dealing with my race.
Look me in the face
Misconceptions?
Those I’ll be happy to erase.