Monday, June 21, 2010

stupid prayers

Praying is one of those things that I'm not exceptionally good at, mainly because I don't do it a whole lot. Partly because my brain works on super sonic and I am constantly going off on rabbit trails, and partly because I sometimes wonder if I'm crazy and I'm just talking to myself...

Regardless, I overall think God cares and He does some pretty insane stuff when we actually just take the time to just talk to Him.

I'm fairly confident that He wants more from me than just a basic one liner.

"Please help so and so."

"I don't remember if I turned my stove off. Please don't let my house burn down." (okay, so that was 2 lines)

"Please let that man get home safely."

"Dear Jesus, I didn't check the toilet a second time after I flushed. Please don't let there be a turd in there. It wasn't there the first time, but please don't let it magically reappear...." (have I mentioned that I'm OCD with toilets outside of my household? I only check 2 or 3 times, not like those nutjobs that check 4x....)

"Please don't let there be anybody in my shower. Please, no one in my shower." (I'm also OCD with checking any shower that I'm near. If I've been to your house, I've checked your shower for crazies. You're welcome.)

Actually, I was going to write about stupid prayers I used to pray, but after looking at this list, it appears that I'm still requesting ridiculous things... hmm... For the record, when I was much younger, I earnestly prayed that when I grew up that I would be funny. I thought my dad was really clever, I wanted to be like him. I have also prayed on multiple occasions during my high school and college years that Jesus would come back before a particularly large exam. And if He choose not to, that he would at least erase my answers and put them in the right order. You think I'm kidding. I am not. If the man can feed 5,000 dudes with fish and chips, he can make a miracle out of my lack of studying....

Somehow I bet that God actually wants to have a conversation. And sometimes even instigate one. But then I wonder why when I cry out to him in full agony over someone or something or whatever, does it feel like he doesn't always answer? Where is the big conversation then? The quiet kills. I don't think he loves it when I go thru phases of not speaking to him. If I had a guess, I would vote it pains him a little. I don't think any loving parent would get off on their kid not talking to them. But sometimes it just numbs the pain - if only for a little while.

Well, that took a turn for the downers. So, what are some stupid prayers you've prayed?

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Hold Us Together

there's no offical video for this song that I can find.... but just shut your eyes and listen.

then lay back and smile.

i love this song.

Friday, June 11, 2010

sometimes I feel like....

The sounds of rustling and clanking had reached their ears long before they entered this room. Now the Prince could see the source. Hundreds of men and women, mostly older than thirty, though there were a handful of teenagers and younger children, sat shackled on battered metal chairs. Their faces were masked by rusty helmets clamped down on their heads, with iron visors that covered their eyes. They were in neat semi-circular rows, radiating out from a small, black stage in the center point, where a light from somewhere high above beamed straight down on the only occupant of the stage.

He was a short, bent over old man, with a white beard and mostly bald scalp, a shock of white hair standing out on either side of his head, just above his ears. He wore a voluminous black velvet robe, which he constantly fiddled with and folded around his body, seemingly never comfortable with the arrangement of his limbs, or the covering of them. There was a low, grumbling hum coming from within those folds, like the drone of some ancient chant music. Beside the overstuffed chair on which he sat, a precarious stack of books, magazines, and newspapers threatened to topple over onto him. He was reading aloud.

Stephen and the Prince watched from the shadowy recesses near the entrance to the lobby. They saw no guards. No other people of any kind. Just the old man and the prisoners.

"From what I can tell, this project started - according to the time of the Lower Days - about three weeks ago. As long as he reads," Stephen whispered, "the people forget about their chains, and don't seem to mind their blindness - " Loud cheers went up from the crowd just then , as if they were watching their favorite sporting event. Some laughed. Some sat quietly, grinning.

Stephen continued. "However, once a story ends, they all begin to weep and moan, panic and scream until the storyteller begins again. This goes on, night and day, with no breaks that I that have witnesses. If they fall asleep, they sleep sitting up. On rare occasions, and on no regular schedule that I can discern, they are brought very meager provisions. New 'listeners' are added every day."

The Prince spotted Luke sitting between two elderly women. He was the only child on that side of the room, though he now looked more like a teenager than a seven-year-old. He sniggered at the current tale being told.

"I was able to speak to him briefly before he was imprisoned. He thinks he was supposed to come here," Stephen whispered. "Something he researched, he said. He believes that he was meant to come here and save these people, though he would not tell me how. I gathered he considered himself some hero-not-yet-come. But now he is just here, addicted to the stories like the others." Stephen's mouth curled the word stories, like he had bitten into a rotten orange- something meant to be good and sweet, but turned to bitter mush. "He weeps loudly between readings and I can feel how he longs for his home in the Upper Kingdom, but he can't break his chains.... then he forgets his pain once the next story begins."

"Has he ever even tried to call for help?" The Prince turned to face the messenger.

"No, he is too ashamed. Too afraid to say your name here. And most of the time, he doesn't even remember your name. The storyteller's voice strangles his thoughts and clouds his mind. I've tried to speak to him, but he doesn't hear me during the stories. And between readings, it's almost impossible to get his attention, no matter how loudly I speak." The messenger's gaze settled on Luke's visored eyes.

"The more he ages, the more he will forget about me and the Upper Kingdom. Now is the time to rescue him, before it's too late." The Prince watched the storyteller turning one of the last few pages of the book that was in his hand. "When the story ends, do all that you can to delay the storyteller from beginning the next book."

"Your commands are my delight!" Stephen dashed toward the storyteller, shouting the battle cry of the messengers: "For the King and his Prince!" The storyteller had just opened his mouth to say "The End" when Stephen reached the stage. Unseen, the messenger thrust his golden sword entirely through the giant pile of books and papers waiting to be read.

A terrible chaos filled the giant chamber. The prisoners wept and yelled in agony, without the distraction of a story. The Prince rushed toward Luke, unlatched the heavy helmet, and dropped it to the ground with a clank. Luke blinked his eyes, squinting at the brightness of the light. As his eyes adjusted, he burst into tears before the face of the Prince.

"Say the word, Luke! Say the word!" pleaded the Prince, turning Luke's head toward him.

Luke wept uncontrollably, unable to speak through his tears.

Puzzled and increasingly frustrated, the old storyteller clawed at the stack of books, trying to retrieve just one.

"Luke!" The Prince's tone grew more urgent.

"I... I... I'm sorry!... I'm sorry," Luke spluttered, shutting his eyes tight.

The Prince leaned close to the boy, his mouth just by his ear. "Say the word," he said, in a voice that only Luke could hear.

Luke's sobs slowed. He mustered a deep breath. "Help me, my.... Prince!"

His shackles broke loose.

excerpt taken from (probably illegally) between two kingdoms by: joe boyd

Sunday, June 6, 2010

U2 - Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own (Acoustic Couch Mix)

Didn't remember that I had this song saved to my computer until the other day. Forgot how good it was.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Anberlin - Feel Good Drag

The Zone used to play a lot of Anberlin. They have a great sound. One of my fav songs lately. They play it at least a couple times a day.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


so I ran today. and by ran, I of course mean that I jogged. and by jogged, I of course mean that I walked 3/4 and jogged the other 1/4. but hey, it was still 1.3 miles more than I did yesterday. or ever.

side note: it's hard to run/jog/walk with the dog when he stops on a dime to smell grass/sidewalk/poo/garbage/chocolate/smashedcans/fences/cars/whateverelse