we all speak two languages: money and sex
with that aesthetic twang.
yeah, she's got a pretty voice;
it rings like the bell on the stock exchange floor,
soothes like the kind of love you pay for.
when he talks, dollar signs roll off his tongue;
yeah, they'd sell their souls just to hear one syllable.
we'd sooner see a man enslaved
than abandon our business practices, nice sweaters.
comfort > humanity
*possibly unfinished
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
"it's like you've just fallen into God's grace"
It's wonderfully crazy to me how true the title of this post is at this very moment. My best friend wrote this to me in a message: "I'm so jealous of you. It's like you've just fallen into God's grace, and even though technically, your life is kinda crazy at the moment, it just feels still." She's right. And it's so ironic because I spent a year and a half in the exact same place: living at the same house, going to the same school, knowing the same people, doing the same crazy things, and it never felt still. Every second of every day, my life was rushing past me and the world was swirling around me; I couldn't keep up. The closest I got to stillness was the time I spent writing and painting and listening to music and thinking at ungodly hours of the morning, the only soul awake in a house full of women. And now here I am: I've just moved 660 miles away from the city I grew up in to a place I love, with no plans, no friends (close in proximity, that is), and no idea what to expect. And it's delicious. Gilda Radner writes, "Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity..."
I think I spend most of my life planning it. [That is the biggest understatement I've ever written in my life.] I sit in my room and think about what I want to do and try to picture myself doing different things, just to see if I can, and I make lists and lists - bucket lists, pro/con lists, to do lists. And I've been convinced by society that this is normal, expected, even. That I have to have a plan. That that's what God wants. But really I think God wants me in the exact position I'm in right now all the time. I have no idea what is going to happen this semester. I don't even know how to go about planning it because there are so many unknown and unfathomable factors. I already tried once to plan it out. My brain started hurting.
And I had a revelation. I could plan out the rest of this month, this semester, this year, even my life and none of it may ever come to fruition. No matter how much planning I do, if it's not God's will, it's not happening. And what's funny is that I sit here and make all these plans that sound pretty badass in my head - all the cool things I'll do, the cool people I'll know, how cool I'll be in the future after I grow out of being lame - and they're actually pretty puny compared to the awesome plans God's already made. Let's break this down: if I, Sarah, this crazy, irresponsible, lame girl can come up with plans that sound really cool and exciting, how much more awesome can the plans of the most creative, most imaginative, most beautiful Being be? I mean, it just sounds like He can do a better job than me. Plus, on top of all that, I don't even have to do a thing to plan it all out. All of this thinking and planning and working-things-out is futile. God doesn't ask us to sit in our rooms and write about the things we want to do and make lists and plan out the next year. He commands us to follow Christ and to do. I can't glorify Him and love His people by isolating myself and surrounding myself with my ideas and my calendar and my views of the world.
So here I am, I took the biggest leap I've taken yet in my short 19 years and I'm caught right in the middle of God's grace. I know something big is coming this semester, I can feel the winds of it, taste the sweetness of it. It may be something big and meaningful and groundbreaking that I'll do. Or it may just be a new way of living. Whatever it is, my prayer is something that another friend of mine sent to me the day I moved: that I will open my heart to all the new experiences I will have. They'll break me and remake me, inspire me and free me, foster my spirit and change the way I see things. And every one of them will give me a little taste of God's grace.
I think I spend most of my life planning it. [That is the biggest understatement I've ever written in my life.] I sit in my room and think about what I want to do and try to picture myself doing different things, just to see if I can, and I make lists and lists - bucket lists, pro/con lists, to do lists. And I've been convinced by society that this is normal, expected, even. That I have to have a plan. That that's what God wants. But really I think God wants me in the exact position I'm in right now all the time. I have no idea what is going to happen this semester. I don't even know how to go about planning it because there are so many unknown and unfathomable factors. I already tried once to plan it out. My brain started hurting.
And I had a revelation. I could plan out the rest of this month, this semester, this year, even my life and none of it may ever come to fruition. No matter how much planning I do, if it's not God's will, it's not happening. And what's funny is that I sit here and make all these plans that sound pretty badass in my head - all the cool things I'll do, the cool people I'll know, how cool I'll be in the future after I grow out of being lame - and they're actually pretty puny compared to the awesome plans God's already made. Let's break this down: if I, Sarah, this crazy, irresponsible, lame girl can come up with plans that sound really cool and exciting, how much more awesome can the plans of the most creative, most imaginative, most beautiful Being be? I mean, it just sounds like He can do a better job than me. Plus, on top of all that, I don't even have to do a thing to plan it all out. All of this thinking and planning and working-things-out is futile. God doesn't ask us to sit in our rooms and write about the things we want to do and make lists and plan out the next year. He commands us to follow Christ and to do. I can't glorify Him and love His people by isolating myself and surrounding myself with my ideas and my calendar and my views of the world.
So here I am, I took the biggest leap I've taken yet in my short 19 years and I'm caught right in the middle of God's grace. I know something big is coming this semester, I can feel the winds of it, taste the sweetness of it. It may be something big and meaningful and groundbreaking that I'll do. Or it may just be a new way of living. Whatever it is, my prayer is something that another friend of mine sent to me the day I moved: that I will open my heart to all the new experiences I will have. They'll break me and remake me, inspire me and free me, foster my spirit and change the way I see things. And every one of them will give me a little taste of God's grace.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
so I put my hair up and I make coffee and I write
I.
So I'm moving. In four days. It's odd, but it's right. I feel weird being in Memphis now, like I'm not supposed to be here. And my room is a half-empty mess, my paintings and odd assortment of inspirations the only things left untouched thus far, which makes me feel even less like I'm supposed to be here. And I hate goodbyes. But not in the traditional sense. I don't mind the fact that I'm saying goodbye so much as the length of time most goodbyes last. I kind of wish I could just pack up my car with all my friends standing around and then hug everyone and give a little wave and put a good CD in and hit the road. And I'm secretly hoping no one will miss me. I know that's weird, but it's easier that way. I'm such a people-pleaser that I feel guilty for moving. I don't even really feel that sad, I just feel guilty, like I'm letting everyone down. I keep trying my hardest to hide the fact that I'm excited for the new adventure Texas is about to provide me with. I mean I'll miss everyone here a lot, some more than others. But I'm not worried, because the people I'll miss most are the ones I know will be in my life for the rest of it, no matter where we are.
For the entire last semester I felt like I was in this dark place and I had no idea which way to go. So I just kind of stomped around in a little circle, feeling my way around, trying to find the light switch or something. For the first time in...a really, really long time, I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I guess you call that being decisive. This is one of the few times in my life that I feel decisive. And it's ironic because I'm doing something I never would have thought I'd do, something I used to judge other people for doing. I'm taking a semester off of school. I used to think that the kids who did that had no life goals and weren't going anywhere. Funny how God works.
II.
Sometimes I feel kind of anti-social, like I just don't want to be around a lot of people. It didn't used to happen very often, but as I get older it gets more frequent. I like to just chill out, maybe with some people I'm really close to; you know, the ones you don't necessarily have to talk to the whole time you're hanging out. Sometimes I just want to sit in my room and drink coffee and listen to Sufjan Stevens and write or paint. Some people can't, for the life of them, understand that. And it makes me a little sad for them, because they'll never really know what it's like to be alone with themselves. Being alone with yourself is a beautiful thing sometimes.
III.
There are nights that I just feel the need to write. So I start writing a bunch of random stuff, waiting for the big, important thing to come to me. Some nights it comes and I end up writing something interesting and cool. But some nights it never comes, and I just end up with this odd, non-cohesive bit. I think tonight's post is in the latter camp. So if you're reading this, you're probably thinking, "Wait, that's it? What? Did I really just waste three minutes of my life?" The answer to all of those questions is yes. I'm feeling a little American post-modern tonight.
So I'm moving. In four days. It's odd, but it's right. I feel weird being in Memphis now, like I'm not supposed to be here. And my room is a half-empty mess, my paintings and odd assortment of inspirations the only things left untouched thus far, which makes me feel even less like I'm supposed to be here. And I hate goodbyes. But not in the traditional sense. I don't mind the fact that I'm saying goodbye so much as the length of time most goodbyes last. I kind of wish I could just pack up my car with all my friends standing around and then hug everyone and give a little wave and put a good CD in and hit the road. And I'm secretly hoping no one will miss me. I know that's weird, but it's easier that way. I'm such a people-pleaser that I feel guilty for moving. I don't even really feel that sad, I just feel guilty, like I'm letting everyone down. I keep trying my hardest to hide the fact that I'm excited for the new adventure Texas is about to provide me with. I mean I'll miss everyone here a lot, some more than others. But I'm not worried, because the people I'll miss most are the ones I know will be in my life for the rest of it, no matter where we are.
For the entire last semester I felt like I was in this dark place and I had no idea which way to go. So I just kind of stomped around in a little circle, feeling my way around, trying to find the light switch or something. For the first time in...a really, really long time, I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I guess you call that being decisive. This is one of the few times in my life that I feel decisive. And it's ironic because I'm doing something I never would have thought I'd do, something I used to judge other people for doing. I'm taking a semester off of school. I used to think that the kids who did that had no life goals and weren't going anywhere. Funny how God works.
II.
Sometimes I feel kind of anti-social, like I just don't want to be around a lot of people. It didn't used to happen very often, but as I get older it gets more frequent. I like to just chill out, maybe with some people I'm really close to; you know, the ones you don't necessarily have to talk to the whole time you're hanging out. Sometimes I just want to sit in my room and drink coffee and listen to Sufjan Stevens and write or paint. Some people can't, for the life of them, understand that. And it makes me a little sad for them, because they'll never really know what it's like to be alone with themselves. Being alone with yourself is a beautiful thing sometimes.
III.
There are nights that I just feel the need to write. So I start writing a bunch of random stuff, waiting for the big, important thing to come to me. Some nights it comes and I end up writing something interesting and cool. But some nights it never comes, and I just end up with this odd, non-cohesive bit. I think tonight's post is in the latter camp. So if you're reading this, you're probably thinking, "Wait, that's it? What? Did I really just waste three minutes of my life?" The answer to all of those questions is yes. I'm feeling a little American post-modern tonight.
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