I hide in my bed with the lights on the floor

I thought, since I finished a paper this morning, that I would sit around reading small portions of books online. I came across a story called "Ella Enchanted".... and I am in love! I now remember why children's books are so full of heart.

There is, indeed, a huge difference between being "childish" and "child-like". Being Child-Like allows you to find out something you didn't notice before.Like how fun sitting under a ray of sun next to couch can be.

the difference between fantasy and imagination- fantasy being the lesser of the two

a night
another fairy tale.
wash me in your
open arms.
lost. lost in
bridges, crossing
to the castle.

princess,
take my hand like
imagination.
another timeless night.
the air is
only moving verse.
green and soil,
gods and creatures of a
smaller narrative.

a night,
an amour of
enchanting parchment,
a paper dress.
paper covers, quiet skimming.
calm aroma,
new white pages.
the good stories are those that
open our arms.

-those that make the
same world more captivating.
those that brings us more
into life,
rather than escape.

PS- I think for Lent I'm going to give up typing out my thoughts online. ie- here, and FACEBOOK. I think that my habit of putting thoughts online has become less "every once and awhile when I have something good to say" to "all the time because I feel like it".

Alas. facebook is a lame place to leave poems lying around.

See you.

some comfort and some grace - reprise

I'm starting to think that this idea of home has to be about relationships.

A friend of mine wrote an entry about home on, of all places, facebook. He wrote;

"What is it that makes home? Part of it seems to be in my trust in God's faithfulness in His provision for me. There's certain peace that comes from knowing that the Father will take care of His son. No home would be complete without that peace We got onto the conversation about home". And so I responded, with this:

"maybe home is just about where find out who you are. where you feel most like yourself, the real you God intended you to find.

and maybe thats all this faith is. a bunch of people who feel lost, and are looking for belonging.

I have come to believe, with a lot of hurting and hope, that we find God in the nuances of our creative nature. God wants us to find out who we really are as humans beings because we are important... so stupid things like feeling hurt, heartbroken, or overjoyed are perfectly legitimate to feel.

home, then, is where you can feel safe to open up to change- where you can feel safe enough to go into the deep places of the heart where you find out who you are."

In one of my classes yesterday a speaker asked the question, why do we feel the need to rest? I started to think the reason we rest is to "be ourself". Rest is removed from trying to impress people, trying to win approval. When I rest it's as if I am acknowledging that who I am is important to someone else.

~

So, thats that. I was hoping to sit down, enjoy a relaxed morning and write calm prose. Instead I sort of woke up feeling anxious, unrested, worried. One of these days I would love to see all this stuff, all the thinking that comprises too many mornings wasted, unfold in the context of a narrative- a story told carefully, allowing the most held-dear insights time to unravel and grow.

I'm not, personally, a fan of stories that give you a list of dry details and events. I like those stories that are made to breathe.

I really need to just figure out how to find rest. There must be some magical formula behind this... Having my time better managed? Putting all my plans for this semester, including assignments, on paper? Spending less time inside? Reading a bit more?

Whatever. I'm not too worried. I owe you some prose.

Listening to:

they protect me from the storms

not enough

tonight: I'm reading some prose.

Tommorow: I'm hosting a concert.

After that: I'm living a more simple life. And writing a more simple journal.

Eventually: I will perform at a coffehouse in Nanaimo (The Buzz).

And: Get over myself.

After that: I will work at a coffeehouse. Or, fall in love with a girl who works at a coffeehouse.

We'll see.

&

when they say you're not that strong,
your not that weak, its not your fault.
When you climb up to your hill, up to your place,
I hope you are well.

- our lady peace

this glancing life is like a morning star

Once I found myself, I realized God was there all along.

- postsecret.com

I'm working on a paper right now, and its not working out so well. Although, yesterday i came home and realized i did not have much to do... that the concerts i am putting on were fully planned, and the homework was reasonable.

But, now being back for a day and a half i'm starting to feel some anxiety creep up on me. Which sucks.

I have this weird thing about me, i have realized. I feel good about once or twice a year. For one or two days a year i get to feel confident, relaxed, purposeful. And it seems like the rest of the year is spent building up to that day.

then the next day its back to normal. I'm also starting to realize how down of a person I am, and I have this fear that my friends don't like me as much because I'm always complaining.

shit.

I think that the small things in life pile up after awhile. And the to do list gets so backed up, that it shuts you down. And in the mess of trying to get things done you forget the important things; like writing, breathing, having time to just "be".

I think there is something to be said for living a simple life. With the time we spend doing less, we could spend time with the ones we love, being real. And with the cash we save by buying less useless crap, we could buy some food and invite our friends over.

I have a lot of weird ideas like that. I tell myself, often, that trying to live this simple life I'm always talking about will effectively wreck my "feel good about once or twice a year" theory.

deep sigh. hmm. anyway, I think in my next random, seemingly pointless, entry I'm going to talk about local food. and farmers. and the importance thereof. and then i can make you some pie.

if we do decide to share pie, please reassure me of something- that people don't hate me because I complain too much. I'm trying to give this whole "learning to love yourself" thing a shot.

see you later. ;)



PS- i was wondering something. i think that i have a lot of love to give. and i think one of the reasons I feel down is I'm having a hard time finding out how to give love. but thats another conversation altogether (this "trying to be human" thing is more work than i thought it would be).

guess i made it through

guess i made it through this time.
not sure that i'm much the same.
its weird how much changes in one day,
let alone a couple hours.

don't read between the lines.
i'm not writing about you.
not really. still thinking of you.
i'm thinking of feeling loved
all the time.

its good.
made it through without that guilt.
life keeps on, and its a tough go.
whether or not i decide to notice..

i'm so damn vague,
not sure how to feel. i used to believe anything.
i'm more open in my stumbling.
and all the better just for trying.

some expectation

dallas green was pretty darn great. i must say. i still have that "relaxed/chill/wow, acoustic music is my heart" feeling. its cool.

The concert was at stanley park... so imagine a clear starry night, and a stage circled with evergreen trees (arguably the best type of tree) and sitting in the cool grass with blankets to keep warm. i love it.

Before the concert a friend and I shared horribly overpriced halibut and a beer that tasted like bread. after the concert i fell asleep.

oh, completely random and pointless- i had a 5 second sleep last night. which, for you who don't know, is 8 hours of sleep that feels like 5 seconds.

Then today i tried to get my passport application in, at a passport office in Abbotsford. They told me i had to go process it in surrey. Which kind of steamed me off. Why have a passport office if you can't process a passport? Damn government.

Meh. I shouldn't complain. If i lived anywhere else in the world i would be arrested for typing in that last sentence. I owe you some better writing... about my fun and entertaing personal life, of chasing after girls, and then being too afraid to talk to them. what a life.

later.

PS- i had a dream about teapots last night. Anyone down for a walk to MCC?

its hard for me but I'm trying

(I know I've quoted this book before... but this time it looks different. so ha).

Everybody has to change, or they expire. Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons.

I want to keep my soul fertile for the changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it is time for things to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently.

Only the good stories have the characters different at the end than they were at the beginning. And the closest thing I can liken life to is a book, the way it stretches out on paper, page after page, as if to trick the mind into thinking it isn't all happening at once.

- Donald Miller, Through Painted Deserts.

moving helps to make the day seem shorter

I still really have nothing to write about... sooo

stuff that makes life feel like home-

- my new townhouse (right beside my old one, which was considerable louder).
- a pot of tea everyday after work. today it was an orange spice, from EA.
- writing... which i have not done all week. gah. no wonder i feel so disconnected.
- school, which starts in just over a week.
- new faces... you get a lot of those at a college...
- by the way, some of the new students came early, thus the "new faces".

- Leaning over the side of a pier and seeing a big seal rush by, ten feet away (that was cool).
- not spending 17 bucks for a small pizza (effing Boston Pizza... so expensive).

- coffee from peru. which i haven't had in a week... again, disconnected.
- Blaga Dimitrova. And Anne Lamont.
- And, Madeleine L'Engle.
- Midlake
- The first five seconds out the door before work, getting to breathe in fresh air. mmm.

- Dirty dishes and piles of books on my desk and coffee table.
- Not my coffee table... it has a glass top, and gold painted steel legs... shudder. I do not like glass coffee tables.
- Alexander Keith's


- My broken hammock.
- Learning to write shorter, more concise, less pointless entries (not to mention, less emo).
- My artsy fair-trade paper journal which i carelessly use for personal stuff.
- Tomatoes and Pasta, with grated garlic and parmesan cheese.
- My mom's pizza... which i haven't eaten in over a year.
- The five seconds after a conversation on a moonlit dock at midnight... realizing how beautiful the person you are talking to is.

-Writing... which I need to do more often. As soon as I have something to write about... we'll see.

later

-Adam

PS- I did have something to write about- a latenight roadtrip to Whiterock, and a huge dock- but meh. it didn't come to me until just now. it happens.

occurances

I haven't been doing much this week, besides sitting at home alone drinking coffee from Peru, and lying inside emotional streams of consciousness. I should be in some actual streams, because an entire summer without swimming is just wrong.

I picked up a copy of Simply in Season, finally. My dream of becoming an attractive vegetarian is now underway... the vegetarian part at least.

My new favorite movie, for the time being (wow, i'm jumping from one thought to the next here) is "The Secret Life of Words". Man, if i was just a little more emotional I would have been crying.

I promise that I will do something worth writing about this week, and make our conversations more interesting. I'm starting to get sick of just talking about myself all the time.

later

-Adam