sleepay

don't wake me
i plan on sleeping in
- the postal service

i don't know what i want to say in particular, except that i would like to be quiet.
and be filled, like a tall glass of cool water.

watched forest gump tonight.
...it was good. so, friends.
why is it difficult to accept love?
how does our past mess us up?
how is it that this man holds on to his simple and uncomplicated love, and his promises?
- is it enough for us?
the last scenes were beautiful, tom hanks and the son reading, fishing.
and the boy getting on the bus.

ah, so little love this year.
...it breaks my heart.
i would like to quietly shut the door on people,
maybe in reaction to that.

but then God brings people back into my life, and says,
no.
haha.

i think i have to, to some extent.

can you give me a reason to care?
was drifting off before i slept last night, turning over possibilities in my mind of a person who would listen. who would understand.
and then i came to the great realization that the person i wanted to talk to is God.
har har, God.
=) thanks.

death has come in the form of allergies.
but so much sunshine in the spring and pale green leaves.

hm

things are strange.
i want to be sure.

a memory, a remembrance

because i'm papering and because g.o.d.'s "road" just came on...
a vision of that small motel room my mom, ray, and i stayed in during the first or second night of my grandmother's funeral in korea-
the tv, with the starcraft channel on, the pinup calendar on the wall, the feel of the scratchy and netlike cloth, the bathroom with a showerhead and no curtain, and the faucet that didn't work unless you knew how to turn it...
the feeling of night and not knowing what was next, but staying in this room for the time being, and simply thinking on what had happened, and the day to come. the three of us in close proximity.
there is something about the countryside, that countryside in korea, and the small inconveniences or oddities or quirks i can remember- the very everdayness of it, the rustic and simple, and perhaps the reminder and feeling that i am not so far away from nature, that there is no gap provided by technology and solid walls and central air-conditioning to allow me to forget the nearness of the earth, and my own frailty-
that make it very, very dear to me.

it feels like real life. something i can cup in my hands.

school on break

i wish school was always this:
sitting on my bed, with cool and light coming through the window,
thinking about what i want to think about, learning deeply,
marveling at what has been done, and what will be done
wanting to talk to my professors
having time, now, and tomorrow, with no thought of busyness or schedules to come and press in on your day.

but no papers, no.

if each student just sat in his bedroom and thought, and did something great, or meaningful, or beautiful, how much more we would have.

i'd like to read right now, and eat an apple, or perhaps watch a movie or listen to music. mm.
papel time.

whats real

i'm reading this book about students
who aren't the best-
who eventually become dropouts, sell drugs, get pregnant

and what they say, feel, and believe
and just know, so incisively
so intelligent, so insightful
so much heart and dream.

it just makes me think.
maybe it's what wright wrote about in american hunger...that there was depth to him because he had known pain and hurt and injustice.

what am i learning, and what do i want to learn?
what do i think about, and what is there out in the world to think about?
so much, dazzling array.

like when i woke up this morning and wished i didnt have to go to class so i could think about something else.

it's like a dream of something bigger
and when you grow up it gets smaller and smaller, that dream
dries up

i want so much for things to be perfect
when i'm listening to something beautiful, seeing something beautiful
i want a continuation of that from people, no interruption but synchronization.
i understand when people say that sometimes no words are better than words
and yet it's not that-
i just want something else, a better language, that is higher than that of this earth. or captures that deepest sense of the beautiful found in the earth. because there is much. sort of like light pouring forth from the mouth

and just thinking about,
man, when do you figure out who you are? apart from circumstances?
when you're stripped and punched and pulled at
and you see what you're made of, or what's at the core, mass of shining and burning metal and star, that's at the center of you
think most people are too scared to find out.

this craziness

what is this life?

be true.

think ive realized

a life lived in love is a life in which you can be broken or hurt.
and trying not to be hurt, to be cold feels so good.
but think it's already happened- lots can get to me, and cut.

to be full of You,
your joyful and unceasing love,
to delight in
and to give away, freely.

...i am grateful for late nights, and conversation.

it is yearning that makes the heart deep.
- augustine

figuring out where i'm supposed to be-
my heavenly