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Steroids are so ridiculous. Sports in general are ridiculous. Bunch of men chasing after a ball like a pack of dogs. Those silly misunderstood creatures. (Men, not dogs. Or maybe both. They're pretty much equally silly). I don't think athletes should take steroids. It's like cheating. Not to mention that it's unhealthy. I guess once you get sucked into the game, that's all that matters. It becomes less fun and more work, which is why I would never want to turn my hobby into work. Then I'd lose all my interest for it and incentive to do anything with it.
Old flame is new flame. A theme from a dream. I was thinking of all the poem ideas I could possibly get in my mind. My heart is restless until it rests in you, Lord, and I will use this as a way to get closer to you because it's you my heart wants. There is nobody and no one and nothing else. I may think there is, but I am sadly mistaken. The thunderstorms reveal these things to me. I see flashes of lightning penetrating the darkness and the clouds, speeding down to earth to light up my world.
I have the worst feeling my parents aren't going to like my new boyfriend. Not entirely sure why. My mother won't ever admit it, but she can be a pretty judgmental person, and my dad is convinced that he can figure anyone out and see what their true intentions are within five seconds of meeting them. I'm not saying nothing to boyfriend about this, though. Of course you don't set yourself up for failure. I mean, it's important to me that my parents like the person I'm with, even though I'm technically grown up and I can do whatever I want.
Cuz I wanna be south of the border. I always wanted to go to that South of the Border place they advertise on all these billboards all over the place, I think as you're getting closer and closer to Florida. It's probably nothing but a cheap tourist attraction, but it's always entertained me, just imagining what kinds of wonders could be there. Or at least it's entertained the child inside of me. Sometimes I'm 28 going on 8, I swear. It's a good thing. I forget how old I am and think about how old I want to be.
I'm writing on August 6, the Feast of the Transfiguration. It's amazing how the 100 words entries can pile up when they're unwritten. I've been thinking about Easter for some reason. It can't come soon enough, but it's nine months away, and yet it feels as though we still had Easter. There is a little bit of Easter and Good Friday in every Mass, so every time we celebrate, we have that joy in our hearts, that same sorrow. We go through the entire journey with Him all over again, and we experience his life-saving and life-affirming love.
Do what God wants, not what the world wants. Set your eyes on the heavens, which will be your true home if you do what God wants, not what the world wants.
How can you know what God wants from you (which is totally different from what he wants from anyone else)? Pray. Sounds so easy, such a simple four-letter word. But it's hard. It's hard to concentrate, hard to set aside the time, hard to get in the zone and stay in the zone, but once you're there, it's so worth it. You learn so much.
Grahh, forgot to publish my post the other day and now people will think I'm lazy. Dang it. Oh, well. It's posted now, but I don't think it's going to hit people's inboxes. All this social media can be too much to keep up with, including having to do maintenance on one's body when you are a woman. Shaving legs, plucking eyebrows, shaving armpits, plucking mustache and other unwanted hairs. Honestly... and putting on makeup. I don't think men really care about makeup. They may pretend to, like they pretend to care about clothes, but they're all animals anyway.
Writing on August 9; didn't get to write yesterday because of a snafu/shitstorm/madness at work. Summer is our busy season, and I hate writing about work and ranting to everyone I know about it because I have no life other than that. Trying to have a relationship is hard. Worrying about it won't solve problems. Just letting it happen and progress on its own is the way to go. That said, it's like chess. You actually have to make moves and think strategy and put forth effort. Even so... you just can't put too much thinking into it.
You're just too good to be true, my dear. Gotta work on developing my spirituality and getting over the shyness and all the stuff that goes with that. Being grateful for stuff to do to keep me from thinking too much and overanalyzing and fantasizing and all those useless things one can do to fill the time. Had more thoughts in my head today. About the girl with the mysterious ribbon around her neck and how when she got married, her husband undid the ribbon and her head fell off. Or something like that. Maybe she was about to die.
Agh. I don't want to get into another dead end relationship. The guy needs to know what he wants to do with his life, or he needs to get a goal in his mind that he can work toward and is actively working toward so that his words aren't just empty. I am so sick of empty promises and empty words and all this hope that ultimately ends up becoming nothing. I know I'm freaking out a little prematurely, but my biological clock is ticking. I don't like being the "mature" one in a relationship. We should both be mature.
Got that stupid song by Elle King stuck in my head. Wondering about relationships and about God and about how I cannot lose in this relationship if the point of it is to bring me to God. This month I have to try and do my penance and do better and get to Confession again next month.
I hate how the Internet is so slow, but I feel bad because I have been spoiled by fast Internet. I have no clue in the world what to blog about because I haven't really written in my story in a long time.
Writing this on the 13th (thankfully not Friday the 13th, although I'm not superstitious) and glad that I get a day to myself. My eyes were too tired on the 12th to focus on the screen at all. I was literally getting bleary eyed from spending too much time at work the other day. My wrist hurts from scrolling and my elbow hurt and my back was all out of whack from leaning forward in my odd position. Waiting for my Tumblr auth code to arrive. Why do I have an auth code for Tumblr? I have no idea.
Writing what may potentially be an offensive post. A post of much offensiveness that will drive people away from the blog and never bring them back. Oh, well. They don't have to read it. I'm not even going to put a disclaimer on it. I doubt I get any likes on it at all, but I might at some point. It's funny how people claim to be open minded, yet when you tell them something they perceive as radical, they go ape shit on you. Free speech, free country, what have you. I'm being brave. This is one woman's opinion.
I know what it feels like to be the woman on the cover of a romance novel. Chest puffed out, melting in the man's arms, head thrown back in ecstasy. Yes, frailty thy name is woman, although I'm sure that's not what Shakespeare meant when he said it. I remember how a man's rock-hard thighs felt, the strength in his arms, the way he can melt you with just a few kisses and perhaps those usual sweet nothings in the ear. How he will hold me up if my knees grow weak and I am slumping against him.
Writing on the 16th. Was going to say something about the destruction of my internal mythos. To subjugate myself under God, with nobody above or below him, I must erase my own version of myself and replace it with the way God sees me. He sees me as his beloved child and to see myself in that way, I must abide deep within his wounds and within the heart of Christ. This should not need a theologian to explain. It is simple. To get close to God, one must follow his commandments. Nothing else to be said on that note.
Can a Christian be a pacifist? No, because technically we're all part of the Church Militant here on earth, fighting so that others might get into heaven, praying souls out of purgatory, instructing the ignorant, taking care of physical and spiritual ills and what have you. Where can I help? If I could live without money, a life of poverty, chastity, and obedience, I would. To have money portioned out to me by some overseer so I could spend my days not worrying about it. That would be a good life. Too much money, you worry about it all the time.
Too overwhelming. I do not understand my emotions. My life is hard. I wish I didn't have to have such anxiety over everything, but my best bet is to talk about it. I hate it when people find typos in something I've edited... I mean, that's what happens when you don't get everything all at once. When you don't have enough time on something. But it happens all the time, and I guess you just have to live with it. Perfection is for people who are up in heaven, who are near God, who have that perfection all the time.
Writing on 8/19: Thunder and a sunny sky. A controversy of some sort in the heavens. They cannot get themselves straight. They cannot understand each other. They are having an argument. I hate my perfectionism. I give it all up. I unclench my fist. I release it to the God of the universe who gave me this cross to bear. I lay down my cross at the foot of the Blessed Mother. I lay down myself at her feet, and I weep because I am so far from heaven, where she is. I can only see, but I can't touch.
Going to aim for 100 words, even though I am writing in Notepad and therefore have no word counter. My copy of MS Word expired and I need to buy a new serial number (or something like that). I have an outpouring of religious sentiment, and this may become my default mode, which would be quite a relief from all the other garbage I normally write about. How do I know when my writing is divinely inspired? I can't know. It will be known posthumously by people other than myself. I won't be here to see it.
Psychedelics, my left ass cheek. Seriously. How are you going to believe in something you thought up when you were high? How are you going to presume you're some kind of great theologian because you snorted something or smoked some weed or took some coke or did whatever kind of drugs you do? Sex, drugs, rock-n-roll ain't gonna get you there. Silence, perhaps. Meditation, perhaps. But drugs are drugs. You can say that all religions are equal, but then you have to say that they are all false at the same time. So there must be only one Truth.
Ah, blind faith. Not always a bad thing. It takes bravery (well, or stupidity) to take that leap of faith. It is easier to believe that there is a God than to believe there is not one. If you look at one of the simplest things in nature, you can tell that there is divine authorship behind it. But I have no great arguments about religion. I, like every other believer in something, arrogantly believe that my faith is the Truth. It's good enough for me and I don't care what others think. I'm not out to convert people, just be.
Going to finish my 100 Words and get on with my boring life. Sometimes it is good to have a boring life, to not ask for much, to be entertained by the most mundane things you can possibly imagine. Vacuuming the floor becomes a blessing of sorts, even when a blessing is really a curse to those who live in the world.
In other news, my best friend, who never reads, has actually found a book to read. Amazing. It's a fantasy novel. This is a huge milestone because this guy is a movie buff who will never read.
Got the magic? It's a song by B.o.B. (I think that's how he spells his name, but who knows with these rappers.) About to go to bed shortly because I literally haven't blinked for 9 hours today and my eyes are full of gunk. They feel as dry as little hard spheres in my head, like Ping Pong balls (have no idea whether that is lowercase or hyphenated or even initial capped in the middle). Cannot turn off my editor's brain even for the duration of writing these words. It is what it is and it's my life.
Writing on August 25. It's almost back to school time and the weather has cooled off a bit in the mornings. Just enough so that I can get that nostalgia feeling again. I don't know how to explain it, but it reminds me of getting on the school bus and sitting next to someone awkwardly and praying that the first day will go well and you have nice teachers and tolerable classmates... and maybe, just maybe, that cute guy will be in your class so you can stare at him and hope he reads something in your eyes. Good times.
Practically the end of the month already and I have got almost no writing done. I've kept up with these words on this site because they're short and sweet and to the point, but I have not gotten any actual writing done in my story. Maybe 1,000 words over three weeks. That's pretty bad. I want to watch YouTube videos until my eyes burn out of my head, but I have to work on planning for CCD lessons. Agh! Nothing makes sense right now, but that's OK. I will live through it with less than 50 hit points left.
Well, that was short lived. I guess I need to talk to someone before I can become a decent person. But I am going to go to confession and get to know my new parish priest and hopefully not bog him down with too much when he is still trying to get settled in. I feel as though I desperately need to talk to someone because that is the only way that I can grow as a person and get past the wall that's been put up in my mind. But for now, I get back on the horse, back in the saddle!
To be one of the few people who can actually think clearly on Saturday morning is a blessing. But a blessing can be a curse to the world and that's something that's blown my mind that I can never reconsider. Every time I see the word "blessing," that's what I will think of.
I started a new notebook today, which is fitting because boyfriend broke up with me the other day when I was ending my old notebook, which was filled with stuff about him. Should I ignore his texts saying that he wants another chance? Probably so.
Everybody dance now! The most popular songs in any era were the mindless pop songs because they got played at every party. I don't really care that much about all that right now. I'm too busy thinking about what the heck I'm going to do with my Sunday school classes and boyfriend (super confused/confusing) and everything else. And what God wants from me, and what happens when I listen to him or don't listen to him. I feel as though if I don't let myself get backed into any tight corners, things will be quite all right and I'll live.
Evil Santa! What is the world coming to? No, seriously. This pedophile guy who used to play Santa and be a magician at children's birthday parties just got arrested for possession of tons of child porn. That's just sick. I'm glad they caught him and I hope they put him away for a long time. There are so many sick people out there, and you can say "I'm glad I'm not one of them," but you can't get too involved in that because you end up being too prideful. To moderate humility with realism... that's a hard thing to do.
Only one day left in August after this, and it's the last day of the month, so things will surely be insane at work. I didn't come on here to rant about work, I swear. Sometimes I feel like I bore people to death talking about work all the time. Nothing better to do? Maybe. No life outside of work? Perhaps. Feeling as though I ought to be closer to God so he can show me what truly matters other than work... yeah, that too. I just get so exhausted that I want to sit down and shut my eyes.
My soul is black as sin, rotting and disgusting, and I'm not sure if it's even sin or just personality issues that I have lived with forever. It will be good to talk to someone about this. Anyone. I need to talk to someone, and I don't normally have that feeling. Usually I hide my feelings. Am I turning over a new leaf or just going through a phase? It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I'm trying. I'm moving forward one step at a time, one day at a time, and I'm going to say whatever comes to mind.
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