"Why Can't I Own a Canadian?"
NOTE: I DO NOT OWN THIS
October 2002
Dr. Laura Schlessinger is a radio personality who dispenses advice to people who call in to her radio show. Recently, she said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22 and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following is an open letter to Dr. Laura penned by a east coast resident, which was posted on the Internet. It's funny, as well as informative:
Dear Dr. Laura:
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate. I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the other specific laws and how to follow them:
When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?
I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?
I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15:19- 24. The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.
Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?
I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?
A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?
Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?
Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?
I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? - Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.
Your devoted fan,
Jim
(This was taken from http://www.humanistsofutah.org/2002/WhyCantIOwnACanadian_10-02.html)
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
"Love Is..." -Michael Crichton
"Most of the people I know confuse love with possession. It's easy to see why; it's built into the fundamental assumptions of our culture. "You're mine," says the popular song, "and we belong together." Hardly anyone stops to question the sentiment.
As soon as we feel love, we immediately attempt to possess. We speak confidently of my boyfriend, my wife, my child, my parent. We feel justified in holding expectations about those people. We consider that perfectly reasonable.
Why? Because all our concepts of love ultimately derive from romantic love — and romantic love is furiously, frantically possessive. We want to be with our lover, to have them to ourselves, to feel their eyes on us, to consume their minds and bodies...to possess them.
So strongly do we equate love with possession that we may even feel if someone doesn't want to possess us, they don't really love us. Yet I would argue that what we call romantic love is not love at all. It's a kind of emotional storm, an overpowering, thrilling attraction — but it isn't love.
Because real love isn't possessive. It can't be. We'd all agree that love involves giving, not taking. Yet the desire to possess actually springs from the lover's own need — the need for approval from the beloved, for support from a parent, for straight A's from a child, for status, for financial security — for something. A possessive lover is overly focused on what he's getting, not what he's giving. The lover may dignify his dependency with the name love, but it's a lie. How can you really love somebody when you're dependent on them for things you need? That isn't love, that's just manipulation to keep the needed stuff coming your way. Robert Palmer sings about being "addicted to love," but nobody really is. People are addicted to their needs.
And love isn't the same as need. It just isn't.
Of course, a loving relationship will produce interdependencies. But all too often, the pleasure of freely giving changes to a fear of possibly not getting. It's just that this person — your husband, your girlfriend, your child — is suddenly so important to you. You worry about what's going to happen. What they're going to do. And at that moment, love stops.
People sometimes wonder if they're feeling real love. These same people never wonder if they're sexually aroused, or sad. Then what's the problem about recognizing love? Most often, because they're sensing a conflict: they're feeling the depth of their need, not the heights of their love.
There are ways to know real love. It feels calm. It's steady, and it can easily last a lifetime. It's nourishing — people grow under its influence. They become who they really are, and now what someone expects them to be. Real love isn't blind; on the contrary, people feel understood, accepted for who they really are. It's healing. People recover.
So whenever you hear that love is blind, or love can't last, or love is destructive, you can be sure that you're hearing a description of lust, or desire, or need. And it's an accurate description, because needs really are transient and destructive.
But love is something else entirely. An emotion of deep caring that asks nothing in return, an emotion that is fulfilling without any expectation at all, is so rare that most people in our society can't imagine it. They can't imagine feeling it, or receiving it. They may even come to believe it doesn't exist. But it does.
And it's the best thing there is. "
-Michael Crichton, 1988
The preceding is of no way owned by the author of this blog and is the sole work of Michael Crichton, author of many novels, including The Andromeda Strain and Jurassic Park.
As soon as we feel love, we immediately attempt to possess. We speak confidently of my boyfriend, my wife, my child, my parent. We feel justified in holding expectations about those people. We consider that perfectly reasonable.
Why? Because all our concepts of love ultimately derive from romantic love — and romantic love is furiously, frantically possessive. We want to be with our lover, to have them to ourselves, to feel their eyes on us, to consume their minds and bodies...to possess them.
So strongly do we equate love with possession that we may even feel if someone doesn't want to possess us, they don't really love us. Yet I would argue that what we call romantic love is not love at all. It's a kind of emotional storm, an overpowering, thrilling attraction — but it isn't love.
Because real love isn't possessive. It can't be. We'd all agree that love involves giving, not taking. Yet the desire to possess actually springs from the lover's own need — the need for approval from the beloved, for support from a parent, for straight A's from a child, for status, for financial security — for something. A possessive lover is overly focused on what he's getting, not what he's giving. The lover may dignify his dependency with the name love, but it's a lie. How can you really love somebody when you're dependent on them for things you need? That isn't love, that's just manipulation to keep the needed stuff coming your way. Robert Palmer sings about being "addicted to love," but nobody really is. People are addicted to their needs.
And love isn't the same as need. It just isn't.
Of course, a loving relationship will produce interdependencies. But all too often, the pleasure of freely giving changes to a fear of possibly not getting. It's just that this person — your husband, your girlfriend, your child — is suddenly so important to you. You worry about what's going to happen. What they're going to do. And at that moment, love stops.
People sometimes wonder if they're feeling real love. These same people never wonder if they're sexually aroused, or sad. Then what's the problem about recognizing love? Most often, because they're sensing a conflict: they're feeling the depth of their need, not the heights of their love.
There are ways to know real love. It feels calm. It's steady, and it can easily last a lifetime. It's nourishing — people grow under its influence. They become who they really are, and now what someone expects them to be. Real love isn't blind; on the contrary, people feel understood, accepted for who they really are. It's healing. People recover.
So whenever you hear that love is blind, or love can't last, or love is destructive, you can be sure that you're hearing a description of lust, or desire, or need. And it's an accurate description, because needs really are transient and destructive.
But love is something else entirely. An emotion of deep caring that asks nothing in return, an emotion that is fulfilling without any expectation at all, is so rare that most people in our society can't imagine it. They can't imagine feeling it, or receiving it. They may even come to believe it doesn't exist. But it does.
And it's the best thing there is. "
-Michael Crichton, 1988
The preceding is of no way owned by the author of this blog and is the sole work of Michael Crichton, author of many novels, including The Andromeda Strain and Jurassic Park.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Nails
I was at youth group. People were singing. I was sitting down, as usual, thinking about how much I hate God. One of my friends stood next to me in the isle, noticing how down I was. When our youth pastor got up after the song, he nailed my feelings to the wall:
"I know the whole message today was about how God proves throughout the Bible that he is a good God, but while we were singing, I couldn't get this question out of my head: what is it that keeps me from believing that? So, I think we should take a minute or so to just... think about that...."
When the next song started playing, my friend sat down next to me. He asked if I was ok. When I didn't respond, he put his arm around me. I looked up, reached around my neck, and ripped my necklace apart. I tossed it to the side of the bench....
My friend got me up, brought me into the other room, and talked to me. He asked me questions, I told him what was wrong, and showed him my arm. Then he did something I will never ever forget. He showed me his arm. His clean, scar-free, muscular arms. The exact opposite of my red, marked-up, beaten arms. He told me it was a miracle he didn't have scars. All over his arms. Like me. He said he had been there, and knows exactly what it feels like. The most traumatic thing that happened to him was the recent death of his grandpa. He would go into his room and just bleed, write FUCKED UP on his arm, deep cuts.
He told me he had hated God. He said he's seen people go down the tubes, throw away their lives, go to drugs, go to alcohol, run to sex. He said they were ok for a while. Yet their lives always made a turn for the worst. Looking at me, he said, "It's ok to be mad at God. Your life will be ok for a while, be fun, look good. But pretty soon," he said, pointing at both our arms, "this happens."
We went back into the main room because youth group was over. He told me he was always there for me, always able to talk to me. We now both had someone to talk to. He looked at me necklace, and asked me why I chose it. A rose. "It's the most beautiful flower, and the ugliest when it dies." I honestly chose it because a part of me hoped it would symbolize true love, hope. Yet there it was, broken. My friend lifted his necklace, a brown, beat-up cross. He told me it was his grandpa's.
He lifted it up over his head and put it around mine.....
"Whenever you look at this, remember: there's a nail here, a nail here, and a nail here. The person under those nails died for you. He loves you."
He then proceeded to tell me that he would yell at me, out of love, if he ever saw marks on me again....
"I know the whole message today was about how God proves throughout the Bible that he is a good God, but while we were singing, I couldn't get this question out of my head: what is it that keeps me from believing that? So, I think we should take a minute or so to just... think about that...."
When the next song started playing, my friend sat down next to me. He asked if I was ok. When I didn't respond, he put his arm around me. I looked up, reached around my neck, and ripped my necklace apart. I tossed it to the side of the bench....
My friend got me up, brought me into the other room, and talked to me. He asked me questions, I told him what was wrong, and showed him my arm. Then he did something I will never ever forget. He showed me his arm. His clean, scar-free, muscular arms. The exact opposite of my red, marked-up, beaten arms. He told me it was a miracle he didn't have scars. All over his arms. Like me. He said he had been there, and knows exactly what it feels like. The most traumatic thing that happened to him was the recent death of his grandpa. He would go into his room and just bleed, write FUCKED UP on his arm, deep cuts.
He told me he had hated God. He said he's seen people go down the tubes, throw away their lives, go to drugs, go to alcohol, run to sex. He said they were ok for a while. Yet their lives always made a turn for the worst. Looking at me, he said, "It's ok to be mad at God. Your life will be ok for a while, be fun, look good. But pretty soon," he said, pointing at both our arms, "this happens."
We went back into the main room because youth group was over. He told me he was always there for me, always able to talk to me. We now both had someone to talk to. He looked at me necklace, and asked me why I chose it. A rose. "It's the most beautiful flower, and the ugliest when it dies." I honestly chose it because a part of me hoped it would symbolize true love, hope. Yet there it was, broken. My friend lifted his necklace, a brown, beat-up cross. He told me it was his grandpa's.
He lifted it up over his head and put it around mine.....
"Whenever you look at this, remember: there's a nail here, a nail here, and a nail here. The person under those nails died for you. He loves you."
He then proceeded to tell me that he would yell at me, out of love, if he ever saw marks on me again....
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Break
My world has officially fallen apart....
....The only question is how I am going to put it back together....
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Loveless
(My new song... I hope to put it to music soon....)
Loveless
I can't believe you missed it
Those sad and sorry eyes
All those strangled sobs
And all the tears I cried
I don't know if you heard me
But I knew that it was you
I felt those knives
Inside my heart
Their whispers all say so
[But] now I'm left here, lonely
Hanging on for life
Crying by myself
I see, finally
I'm left here
Loveless
When will you see
You left me loveless
To see the scars with pain
And search the stars in vain
Forever I'll be loveless
Once again I've failed you
So I let go of all hope
I walked out, down the driveway
And heard you lock the door
No whispers anymore
So... [chorus]
I believed you
Sorry if you heard me
But I knew
Inside my heart
I'm left here
Finally,
Loveless
You left me
And
Forever I'll be
Loveless
[Whisper:] Loveless.... <3
Loveless
I can't believe you missed it
Those sad and sorry eyes
All those strangled sobs
And all the tears I cried
I don't know if you heard me
But I knew that it was you
I felt those knives
Inside my heart
Their whispers all say so
[But] now I'm left here, lonely
Hanging on for life
Crying by myself
I see, finally
I'm left here
Loveless
When will you see
You left me loveless
To see the scars with pain
And search the stars in vain
Forever I'll be loveless
Once again I've failed you
So I let go of all hope
I walked out, down the driveway
And heard you lock the door
No whispers anymore
So... [chorus]
I believed you
Sorry if you heard me
But I knew
Inside my heart
I'm left here
Finally,
Loveless
You left me
And
Forever I'll be
Loveless
[Whisper:] Loveless.... <3
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
MY LIFE.... Yeah, that's exactly what I said....
I have to write an autobiography for one of my classes: Career Research. So, of course, I turn to writing my ideas down to sort out my pathetic life.... Or in this case blog about it.
I don't even know if I'm going to put this on my blog. I mean, who wants to read my rants about my pathetic life??? I'll probably just put my autobiography on there and leave this to the voices in my head...
Ok, what to put on there. I was born on September 30, 1992 in a pathetic Winter Park hospital. I don't even remember my first house; we have driven by and all I wish to say is that it is small pathetic excsue for a shack and that my mother screamed that they painted it an ugly peach color.
When I was two, we moved to my current house. A remote area in Lake Mary somehow drove my parents crazy over the house. It's blue with white trim, and it's the only home I have. I love that house. All its beat up floors, all the falling apart fixtures and rusty doors, all the dust and wear from use. To see how much a person values their possessions, look at its war scars; The new floor boards, the freshly painted siding, the fixed bathroom tiles....I fear I may soon not be able to call it home any more...
I am now 17 and a junior at Orangewood Christian School. How in hell I survived is a mystery...
My parents are not really the "traditional, moral" parents. My mom was divorced with two children. She was adopted into a wonderful family, who's parents soon got divorced. Her mom remarried, and he became my grandpa. My dad was the oldest of his many siblings; I keep losing track on how many there are. His dad died in Vietnam, and his mother remarried. Her new husband died soon after I was born.
I have three siblings and one niece. One older brother who lives in Chicago, one older sister with a daughter who is five, and a younger brother who is 13.
My family is foundationally Christian. I don't know if we are specifically one denomination or another. I just know we're NOT Catholic. I had grown up in the church and Christian schools: sunday school first, then the boring lessons, then the dragging sermons, and then the drudgingly long Bible classes. At first I enjoyed them. What was this new fascination I observed that everyone else had with God and Jesus and heaven? Soon my attention began to wane and my fascination along with it. All I heard was "Repent Repent Repent." Which translated into "You Suck You Suck You Suck." Sure, God loves me anyway. Ok I can deal with that. But why would God want some sucky person like that??
If you made it this far I commend you. I refuse to go on about religion any longer and bore the heck out of you. Not that you weren't bored already.
In second grade I moved to a public school for one year. It was tough, but not as tough as life would be later. We were just kids back then and didn't understand ANYTHING. I soon moved back to my old school. Third grade, 9-11 happened. Fourth grade, I made some friends. Fifth grade, they all turned on me. After threats on my life, we decided to move me, and later my younger brother, to Orangewood. I stayed there through eighth grade. Then came the life-changer. Boom. (Yeah, pretty dramatic, right? Ok, it sounded more like this:)
"Guess what?!?! You're going to public school!!!!"
Now, don't get me wrong. Public school can be great for those who know how it works. I was this stupid, innocent, retarded freshmen who knew NOTHING about the real world or high school. So, I was doomed from the start. This huge transition, although only for one year, tested my morals, my "religion," my beliefs, my standards, my self-esteem, and my emotions.
I was diagnosed with depression the end of sophomore year....
Depression has basically ruled my life for at least the past three years. Pain. Sorrow. Hurt. I cannot remember when it started. Possibly in middle school, definitely in high school. I have been sad, tired, hopeless, and suicidal. I finally told my youth pastor and a great friend after writing a suicide letter one night; they saved me more than I can imagine. However, along with other major problems I don't really wish to discuss, the depression got worse and worse and worse until I finally couldn't take it any more.
So I ran away.
My friend picked me up and we left a note at my house saying I was safe and not to worry. I told them I was depressed and suicidal. I drove to a friend's house and spent the night. My phone, however, died after getting so many calls and text messages.... I guess somebody cared....
That wasn't the last time I ran away. I have constantly been running, both physically and figuratively. I am scared of change, scared of being truly happy, scared of hate and sorrow. I am terrified of myself. But no one can run from themselves....
We went to a recommended therapist, who I still go to to this day. In fact, my appointment is tomorrow. I love him. He is amazing, wonderful, kind, and caring. I can't wait to see him.
My mom also took me to the doctor, who prescribed prozac for my depression. I started at 5mg a day, and am now at triple that.
Soon after I started cutting.... It is a way of escape for me. A release. Sometimes a way to actually feel something instead of just being numb. Feeling the sharp sting of pain revives my focus to here and now. I can only see the blood, not the sorrow....
Today I have been free from cutting for who knows how long. A week. A month. Who knows. I lost track.
I met a lot of friends on facebook from a non-profit group called To Write Love on Her Arms. We constantly message each other and encourage each other. I love them to death <3
So here I am. Lost for lonely love to find....
~Daniel
I don't even know if I'm going to put this on my blog. I mean, who wants to read my rants about my pathetic life??? I'll probably just put my autobiography on there and leave this to the voices in my head...
Ok, what to put on there. I was born on September 30, 1992 in a pathetic Winter Park hospital. I don't even remember my first house; we have driven by and all I wish to say is that it is small pathetic excsue for a shack and that my mother screamed that they painted it an ugly peach color.
When I was two, we moved to my current house. A remote area in Lake Mary somehow drove my parents crazy over the house. It's blue with white trim, and it's the only home I have. I love that house. All its beat up floors, all the falling apart fixtures and rusty doors, all the dust and wear from use. To see how much a person values their possessions, look at its war scars; The new floor boards, the freshly painted siding, the fixed bathroom tiles....I fear I may soon not be able to call it home any more...
I am now 17 and a junior at Orangewood Christian School. How in hell I survived is a mystery...
My parents are not really the "traditional, moral" parents. My mom was divorced with two children. She was adopted into a wonderful family, who's parents soon got divorced. Her mom remarried, and he became my grandpa. My dad was the oldest of his many siblings; I keep losing track on how many there are. His dad died in Vietnam, and his mother remarried. Her new husband died soon after I was born.
I have three siblings and one niece. One older brother who lives in Chicago, one older sister with a daughter who is five, and a younger brother who is 13.
My family is foundationally Christian. I don't know if we are specifically one denomination or another. I just know we're NOT Catholic. I had grown up in the church and Christian schools: sunday school first, then the boring lessons, then the dragging sermons, and then the drudgingly long Bible classes. At first I enjoyed them. What was this new fascination I observed that everyone else had with God and Jesus and heaven? Soon my attention began to wane and my fascination along with it. All I heard was "Repent Repent Repent." Which translated into "You Suck You Suck You Suck." Sure, God loves me anyway. Ok I can deal with that. But why would God want some sucky person like that??
If you made it this far I commend you. I refuse to go on about religion any longer and bore the heck out of you. Not that you weren't bored already.
In second grade I moved to a public school for one year. It was tough, but not as tough as life would be later. We were just kids back then and didn't understand ANYTHING. I soon moved back to my old school. Third grade, 9-11 happened. Fourth grade, I made some friends. Fifth grade, they all turned on me. After threats on my life, we decided to move me, and later my younger brother, to Orangewood. I stayed there through eighth grade. Then came the life-changer. Boom. (Yeah, pretty dramatic, right? Ok, it sounded more like this:)
"Guess what?!?! You're going to public school!!!!"
Now, don't get me wrong. Public school can be great for those who know how it works. I was this stupid, innocent, retarded freshmen who knew NOTHING about the real world or high school. So, I was doomed from the start. This huge transition, although only for one year, tested my morals, my "religion," my beliefs, my standards, my self-esteem, and my emotions.
I was diagnosed with depression the end of sophomore year....
Depression has basically ruled my life for at least the past three years. Pain. Sorrow. Hurt. I cannot remember when it started. Possibly in middle school, definitely in high school. I have been sad, tired, hopeless, and suicidal. I finally told my youth pastor and a great friend after writing a suicide letter one night; they saved me more than I can imagine. However, along with other major problems I don't really wish to discuss, the depression got worse and worse and worse until I finally couldn't take it any more.
So I ran away.
My friend picked me up and we left a note at my house saying I was safe and not to worry. I told them I was depressed and suicidal. I drove to a friend's house and spent the night. My phone, however, died after getting so many calls and text messages.... I guess somebody cared....
That wasn't the last time I ran away. I have constantly been running, both physically and figuratively. I am scared of change, scared of being truly happy, scared of hate and sorrow. I am terrified of myself. But no one can run from themselves....
We went to a recommended therapist, who I still go to to this day. In fact, my appointment is tomorrow. I love him. He is amazing, wonderful, kind, and caring. I can't wait to see him.
My mom also took me to the doctor, who prescribed prozac for my depression. I started at 5mg a day, and am now at triple that.
Soon after I started cutting.... It is a way of escape for me. A release. Sometimes a way to actually feel something instead of just being numb. Feeling the sharp sting of pain revives my focus to here and now. I can only see the blood, not the sorrow....
Today I have been free from cutting for who knows how long. A week. A month. Who knows. I lost track.
I met a lot of friends on facebook from a non-profit group called To Write Love on Her Arms. We constantly message each other and encourage each other. I love them to death <3
So here I am. Lost for lonely love to find....
~Daniel
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Hi, My Name is Danny and I'm an Addict
I just finished listening to my youth pastor's first sermon on iTunes. (I had missed the actual sermon because I had to work. I am so so sorry Zach. I'm coming to Go Project on Sunday. <3)
I am in shock....
Just.... shock.....
The way he spoke, although maybe worded differently than his normal dialog, sprang from his heart and leaped straight into mine.
I encourage every single person out there, whether you're a Christian or an atheist, a Jew or a Muslim, a man or a woman, straight or gay, young or old, to listen to this. It made me feel LOVED. That I belong, that I can be free, that there is hope. That everyone struggles like I do.
I choose to do what Zach said he almost did in his sermon. I believe I am ready.
Hi, my name is Danny and I'm addicted to:
-Sorrow
-Sexuality
-Tears
-Attention
-Drama
-Romance
-Hate
-Pain
-Self-Image
-Self-Loathing
-Pride From Others (Specifically my parents)
-Music
-Success
-Belonging
What Zach says is right. We need fellowship. We need each other. We need light. <3
Here's the link to download his sermon. It's absolutely free and doesn't cost you anything. I put it on my iPod. The title is "Hi, my Name is Zach and I'm an Addict."
http://www.orangewood.org/share/sermons/
As Zach would say, "So glad it's all about grace."
I am in shock....
Just.... shock.....
The way he spoke, although maybe worded differently than his normal dialog, sprang from his heart and leaped straight into mine.
I encourage every single person out there, whether you're a Christian or an atheist, a Jew or a Muslim, a man or a woman, straight or gay, young or old, to listen to this. It made me feel LOVED. That I belong, that I can be free, that there is hope. That everyone struggles like I do.
I choose to do what Zach said he almost did in his sermon. I believe I am ready.
Hi, my name is Danny and I'm addicted to:
-Sorrow
-Sexuality
-Tears
-Attention
-Drama
-Romance
-Hate
-Pain
-Self-Image
-Self-Loathing
-Pride From Others (Specifically my parents)
-Music
-Success
-Belonging
What Zach says is right. We need fellowship. We need each other. We need light. <3
Here's the link to download his sermon. It's absolutely free and doesn't cost you anything. I put it on my iPod. The title is "Hi, my Name is Zach and I'm an Addict."
http://www.orangewood.org/share/sermons/
As Zach would say, "So glad it's all about grace."
Friday, January 1, 2010
Rivers of Revolutions
Happy New Year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My new year's resolutions are numerous, but I wish to post the major ones here; they can be summed up, like most of everything in my heart, as one word: love.
-To find love. I will strive to find the love of my life, my soul mate, my other half. I know they are out there. I will find you, I promise. <3
-To love others. I will unleash as much love and compassion and mercy on others as possible.
-To love myself. I will obtain a healthy level of self-respect instead of self-loathing.
My new year's resolutions are numerous, but I wish to post the major ones here; they can be summed up, like most of everything in my heart, as one word: love.
-To find love. I will strive to find the love of my life, my soul mate, my other half. I know they are out there. I will find you, I promise. <3
-To love others. I will unleash as much love and compassion and mercy on others as possible.
-To love myself. I will obtain a healthy level of self-respect instead of self-loathing.
What are your resolutions?
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Two Points of View
I'm currently trying to change my outlook on life and myself. I created two playlists on my current view, According to Them, and my goal, This is me. Please read the descriptions so you know why I chose the song(s) I did for each playlist. The links are below the descriptions. Have fun!!!! (One song is in spanish, so here is a translation if you would like one: http://www.lyricsmania.com/lyrics/camp_rock_lyrics_43743/camp_rock_lyrics_78079/this_is_me_lyrics_774862.html)
According to Them
According to Them, I'm stupid, I'm useless, I can't do anything right. It's too late to apologize. According to them, we were always meant to say goodbye. All I want is your bad romance. According to them, I'm just a she-wolf, just love drunk, just born for devastation and reform.
According to this, my life would suck without you, and it does. Save me, I've been feeling so alone, I keep waiting for you but you never come. According to this, my dreams are bursting at the seams.
According to me, two is better than one (and this one sucks). He ate my heart, that boy is a monster; yet he's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar. They still can't see through my poker face.
This is Me
This is real, this is me. I won't stop believin'. This is the real me: I don't hook up and i dance in the dark; I feel speechless. This is my reflection. I keep bleeding love, but I'll find my guardian angel someday. It will be a love story I'll never forget.
Dance in the Dark
Baby loves to dance in the dark......
To me, this Lady Gaga song is written about self-worth, not being influenced by others' opinions. It's a powerful tale of a girl lost in judgement and torment. Message: sometimes all you have to do is dance in the dark to see yourself clearly...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVCCjSGcnZE
"Silicon
Saline
Poison
Inject me
Baby I'm a free bitch
I'm a free bitch
Some girls won't dance to the beat of the track
She won't walk away
But she won't look back
She looks good
But her boyfriend says she's a mess,
She's a mess, she's a mess, now the girl is stressed
She's a mess, she's a mess, she's a mess
She's a mess
Baby loves to dance in the dark
'Cuz when he's lookin'
She falls apart
Baby loves to dance in the dark
Run Run
Her kiss is a vampire grin
Moon lights away
While she is howling at him
She looks good
But her boyfriend says she's a tramp
She's a tramp
She's a vamp
But she still does her dance
She's a tramp
She's a vamp
But she still kills her dance
Baby loves to dance in the dark
'Cuz when he's lookin'
She falls apart
Baby loves to dance in the dark
In the dark
She loves to dance in the dark
In the dark
She loves, she loves to dance in the dark
Marylin
Judy
Silvia
Tell him how you feel girls
Work your blonde (Jean) Benet Ramsey
We'll haunt like Liberace
Find your freedom in the music
Find your Jesus
Find your Kubrick
You will never fall apart
Diana you're still in our hearts
Never let you fall apart
Together we'll dance in the dark
Baby loves to dance in the dark
'Cuz when he's lookin'
She falls apart
Baby loves to dance in the dark..."
To me, this Lady Gaga song is written about self-worth, not being influenced by others' opinions. It's a powerful tale of a girl lost in judgement and torment. Message: sometimes all you have to do is dance in the dark to see yourself clearly...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVCCjSGcnZE
"Silicon
Saline
Poison
Inject me
Baby I'm a free bitch
I'm a free bitch
Some girls won't dance to the beat of the track
She won't walk away
But she won't look back
She looks good
But her boyfriend says she's a mess,
She's a mess, she's a mess, now the girl is stressed
She's a mess, she's a mess, she's a mess
She's a mess
Baby loves to dance in the dark
'Cuz when he's lookin'
She falls apart
Baby loves to dance in the dark
Run Run
Her kiss is a vampire grin
Moon lights away
While she is howling at him
She looks good
But her boyfriend says she's a tramp
She's a tramp
She's a vamp
But she still does her dance
She's a tramp
She's a vamp
But she still kills her dance
Baby loves to dance in the dark
'Cuz when he's lookin'
She falls apart
Baby loves to dance in the dark
In the dark
She loves to dance in the dark
In the dark
She loves, she loves to dance in the dark
Marylin
Judy
Silvia
Tell him how you feel girls
Work your blonde (Jean) Benet Ramsey
We'll haunt like Liberace
Find your freedom in the music
Find your Jesus
Find your Kubrick
You will never fall apart
Diana you're still in our hearts
Never let you fall apart
Together we'll dance in the dark
Baby loves to dance in the dark
'Cuz when he's lookin'
She falls apart
Baby loves to dance in the dark..."
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