Sunshine Vs. Shadow

"The shadow proves the sunshine"-- Switchfoot

and so it does. No matter how thin or dark or small a shadow might be, it gives hope that the sun is shining (one could even say that hope is shining in general.)

But if we get too invested in this shadow... we begin to miss the sunshine.

Think about it.

the Truth about Truth

there comes a time in one's life where one must ask questions in order to find truth. it doesn't reallymatter what the question is, it could be anything from a math question to a religious question even how to tie your shoe. but the point is; people are in constant search of truth. anything that ends in a question mark is some sort of vantage point into even a minimal portion of the never-ending abyss that is known as truth.

but, truth varies.

what I mean is, truth in modern time has been twisted and shaken and chopped up and modified to fit each individual's standard so truth can never truly be "truthful" at times but rather, just the mere opinion of whoever you are asking.

let's say you are asking two individuals about a religion, for example. let's say the religion is Buddhism. if you ask a Christian or a Morman or even an atheist about Buddhism, they might give you different answers than the Buddhist would tell you. so what is the truth?

but besides truth being based on the giver of truth, it is also shaped by the receiver of this truth as well. the receiver's mind and brain is like a keyhole. if the truth your are trying to place inside one's keyhole doesn't fit, then they donnot understand the truth you are trying to convey. one teacher might explain a certain math problem a certain way, this being a certain "key" if you will; while another teacher explains the math problem in a completley different way (a completely different shaped "key" but it is still trying to convey the same answer to the math problem.) one of these keys fits in the student's keyhole... the other doesn't, adding yet another fraction on finding real truth: HOW is the truth being coveyed? how is the giver shaping the key?

truth (in the modern age)=the person conveying the truth's conception+person receiving it's understanding of this conception+ how the truth is being conveyed.

but now we are still at the same problem as we were before; which was whenever one asks someone a certain truth, they might not give the complete answer. they either throw in a bunch of other elements that are not the complete core one is searching for, or they give a certain level of the answer but not the deepest level of the answer which is the core. so if truth is just these three elements, will we ever find the truth?

yes.. but not by asking humans.

(no, that wasn't an attempt to make you question whether aliens are real or not! pahahaha.)

a person's whole life is seeking truth. we all may say we have an individual purpose for life, or what the meaning of life is; but in the end are we not either trying to find truth or live a certain truth? even for the people that believe there is no meaning or truth, so they just trudge through life and drag on-- that is their truth and purpose (sadly).

but; the true truth will set you free.

You Won't Starve. Trust me. :)

Fasting:Verb; Abstaining from all or some kinds of food or drink, esp. as a religious observance.

A wise leader in my life challenged me and many others to fast until November 25th. When indulgin in this, it doesn't really need to be food you fast from. I'm fasting from Facebook actually (but NOT from Blogger! :D). Call it "modernized" fasting, but it is still giving up something you partake in regularly to spend more time with the Lord.

And that's what fasting is in a nutshell. When we think of fasting, we usually think of how in the bible people regularly gave up food to spend more time with the Lord. (Think about it: food is pretty regular activity in our days.) My mom actually fasted 40 days from ALL meals when she was in college (what a great way to lose weight! hah.)

But those things-- food, facebook, whatever you partake in regularly; are material. Would you believe that God wants us to fast from others things besides the physical? Fast from certain habits that cause you to fall short or to sin. Fast from bad influences. Fast from judgmental thoughts or negative thinking. Fast from closed-mindedness. Fast from thinking that you are always right and everyone else is always wrong.

But here's the catch: with this kind of fasting, our goals are to fast for the rest of our lives.

It won't be easy. It wasn't easy for my mom to fast for 40 whole days, imagine how it might be breaking away from certain habits, negative thinking, etc. But it can happen, and will happen, if you open your heart up to Christ and let Him come through for you. If you let love come in you and out of you, when it comes out of you it will take all of those habits with you.

You are loved, more than you will ever know. My date to end my fast is November 25th. But for alot of us, our fasting days are until the days we die. Until then, happy fasting.

Flowers for Your Vase

by Chrissy Lee Zschomler

Here is a letter addressed to young girls everywhere:
who sit in the top of the castle's darkest room,
Waiting and staring out the small petite window
hoping you will be let free very soon.

You sing and you dance and you laugh and you smile,
but your heart doesn't always reflect those verbs.
Your heart is a leaf trying to blow in the wind
but is caught in the gutter and is stuck to these curbs.

Is your heart an old desert that needs an oasis
A cop car that needs something young to chase?
Is your heart in search of flowers delicate just for you
To fill your young heart's fine china vase?

Are your eyes two teenagers that watch television;
seeing plots unfold you wish were your own?
Is your spirit shifting into a wallflower shape
Growing in corners at parties all alone?

Are your hands two nets trying to catch a butterfly
Running and chasing until your breaths leave?
Is your mind one to fill up high to the rim
of trying to find out what's right to believe?

And your ears; are they waiting around to be filled
like cups with water of compliments and sweet?
You earnestly yearn to know that you're tres belle!
But alas,you're still clueless; and your heart is still petite.

So you knock over your heart-vase onto the floor
hoping it shatters into millions of pieces
because you want your cup to fill MORE
You want something, young girl; that never quite ceases

To show you how loved your petite heart really is;
or to take whatever love you may have inside it's walls.
This past action is not a stealing matter dear;
Your love is a gift to whomever it falls.

Please understand this life is not easy,
Though it is a beautiful wonderful chase;
Please hear that you hold your own beautiful flowers
to place inside your own beautiful heart-vase.

Maybe he will come with flowers of his own,
Yours and his flowers beautifully arranged;
He loved your delicate petals just the way they were
both before and after you went off and changed.

For now, young girl, your heart is a beautiful vase,
and God has flowers picked perfectly for you;
His own petals dancing in the light when you smile
They even sing in the depths of your frowning eyes too.

Adventures? or Discoveries?

"So your favorite color is green?"
"Yeah! For the longest time."
"Why is your favorite color green?"
...did he just ask WHY my favorite is green? That's weird. That's crazy. That's different. That's poetic. That's...genuine.
"WHY my favorite color is green?"
"...Yeah? It's nature, isn't it?"
Wow. Talk about reading me like a book.
"That's a huge part of it. But I've always grown up with it to. It's my eye color, birth stone... but nature is a huge part of it."
"Huh."
"I don't think anyone's ever asked me why my favorite color was green before... good job."
He laughed under his breath.
"What's your favorite?" I asked him.
"Blue."
"Why?"
"The sky is blue."
Do we share a brain?
"Seriously?! That's so cool.."
and the bell for class to begin
rang.

Blast-off.

Today in church, the youth pastor explained to us what the male gender thinks of right before they hit a baseball.

He said, "I don't know about girls, but when guys are up to hit a baseball, they have a clock going off in their mind. They're thinking, '3...2...1...let's go.' Then they hit the ball as hard as they can!" [Paraphrased.]

It only makes me wonder more about the guy mind and shows me how much I don't know about it. Living with pretty much three other girls and one male in my life, I'm not around males ALL the time. I have guy cousins and uncles of course, but still.

Is that what guys think of in alot of instances? Before they talk to a girl they like, are they thinking "3...2...1...go,go,gooo!!!" When they tell a lie and decide to give into telling the truth, do they say to themself "Alright. here's bring on the consequences. Three...two...one. "Mom? I need to talk to you..."

I've never really quite looked at anything with a clock shape of mind. There are times where I've tried counting myself to sleep, and I count waiting for my microwavable meal to be finished, or counting down on New Year's. But when I need to do something, there will be instances I wait; but I donnot count. I just...dive in.

Now explain this to me: say someone in jumping in a pool from the longest diving board EVER at the tallest height above the pool EVER. Heh.


Which do you think would make the experience scarier: jumping right into the pool; or counting backwards from ten and THEN jumping in?

This might be an opinion based answer; but mine would have to be the second. When your counting and waiting, it builds up SOOO much suspense and wonder and scary questions and ideas might build and form.

Does that mean life is scarier for the guy mind?

There is my random and crazy thought for the day.

One More Letter to the Dream of Someone

and yet another excerpt from my book, "Letters to the Dream of Someone."

Dear Dream of Someone,
My dad is too sick to go to the beach. He wishes he could all the time, but he is stuck inside our house; and the thought of that makes me sick to my stomach; and sick to my heart.
Today it rained surprisingly after 105 degree weather for the past week or two. It was very nice.
And after a while, it stopped. But the aftertaste of the rain in the breeze was beautiful. It felt like I was walking on the beach as I walked outside, barefoot, in a light blue tang top.
In the black street I walked over to my dad and said “Dad, the rain was beautiful today. This breeze is delightful.”
He agreed with me. “It certainly is.”
I told him, “It feels like we’re at the beach.”
He agreed with me. “It certainly does.”
I gave him a big hug, took in his aroma, and told him “You even SMELL like the beach!”
He told me “That’s because I’m wearing my suntan spray.”
I told him, “Let’s pretend we’re at the beach, daddy.”
He told me “I already did. I walked to the mailbox, and I was walking to the ocean shore. And now I’m walking back to our beach house on the sand with you.”
And so we walked to our beach house.
I don’t understand why everyone doesn’t pretend when they are limited to what they can do in life.
Love, Me

Hidden in Our Hearts.

Last night like I imagine many of you were, my sleep was interuppted (interuppted puts a negative vibe on it... truthfully, it was a nice little "awakening" :D) by the beating and drumming of rain upon my rooftop. It continued to become louder and stronger, I eventually even came to believe it was hail (then again,considering we live in Southern California, we can definatley say my logic from that conclusion was coming from a girl who was 1/4ths asleep...;) ). Then, hours later, I fully woke up.

The sky outside my window was clouded and gray. Usually that kind of weather makes me on the sad side, but today I found it very refreshing and pleasing to my spirit. Then I dove into the bible. I read Acts 2... which was super crazy interesting!!! There's tongues on fire, moons made out of blood, and a recap of how the 11 prophets knew for a fact Jesus was Messiah.

Then, I continued to look at the verses I memorized. And my main point for writing this post today, is for this. I had to add all of the other things because, well, this is a variation of what one of many beautiful mornings are to me. I intended no structure or plotline for this blog post, you could say I'm going with a "Napolean Dynamite" writing style today in that matter; but I just needed to say: I really don't know if God made us all with a certain thing in the world that makes us TRULY happy... sure, He gives us things we're passionate about like with me---music, nature, photography, writing. But even after I invest in those things I find myself turning to the face of sadness yet again, and why? I have an amazing blessed life with beautiful family who know all about love and teach it to me as well as do my beautiful friends. I live in a safe place with great neighbors and food and warmth (or AC when we need it :-). I go to one heck of a church and one heck of a school.. and not to mention the weather is pretty much perfect where I live. So why did I find myself becoming somewhat sad this summer?

I don't know if there is one particular answer to that question. But I frankly don't feel like answering it right now. Of course you need to face and conquer your answers to questions like "What makes you sad?" or "what makes you scared?" but for the past weeks I have found answers to even bigger and more challenging questions like "What keeps your heart joyful for more than just a temporary time?" And again I wonder if God gives each of us our own answer to this question like He gives us gifts.

But I have found mine. At the same time I don't want to just call it mine because it is something everyone can find joy and amazement in. It may seem like something like a hassle, work, even like SCHOOL work to some people but I bet if they just give it a try their hearts will turn like the moon turns from it's dark side to it's light (like mine did).

(Excuse the constant tangenting.) In junior high at my church, there was a day where the junior highers could pose a question to the staff, and that Sunday we were asked "What makes you know God is real?" and certain questions along those lines.

And here is my answer, to the previous two questions I've stated: Bible memorization.

true. joy. seriously.

Hide and Go Seek

Hide and Go Seek
by Chrissy Zschomler

There's the perspective of the waves
crashing from the pier
There's the perspective of youself
from inside of the mirror
Instead of looking outside
you look inside the window
And instead of seeing colors
We watch shapes and noises grow
There's the glass half empty
Being filled with this water
There's the cold winter seasons
growing hotter and hotter
There's the seeker-go-finder
Turning into the Hider
There's the short distance between us
growing wider and wider
There's the quiet act of embrace
Turning into frustrations
There's the crowded noisy mind
Seeing quiet meditations
There's the blue and white pages
Melting into trash and waste
There's the dirty chewed up food
Morphing into toothpaste
And there goes the scissors
Turning into a comb
There goes the wilderness
Turning into their homes
There goes the rejection
turning into wedding rings
There goes the ground
being the sky where Birdy sings
& there goes my privacy
turning into a show
Tickets on sale now
Would you like the cheapest row?
There goes my thoughts
turning into regretted words
There goes my words
turning into mockingbirds
& there goes my fears
turning into thoughts of dust
& there goes myself
off to watch the 'temporaries' rust.

There goes the night sky
glowing lighter and lighter
The short distance between us
grows wider and wider.
It may sound sad
and my hearts mistakes it so
But there are so many things
in this life I donnot know.

Warning:

signs. yeah, i know it's a movie. but it's also something that makes you aware of a piece of information you may or may have not known. even if you had known about what the sign was trying to inform you of, it still reminds you. it still sends information to you brain about something.

not just with what you see on the street. "i already knew this was a one way street." but when you see something that brings a memory back. "i already knew this song. i already know about who it reminds me of." and it may be a pretty reminder or maybe not a pretty reminder.

but the other kind of signs are the signs that inform you of something you were not aware of or didn't know before. in Judges, it talks about how Gideon asks God for a sign for if God would save Israel by Gideon's hand. he says, (verses 37-38 of chapter 6) "'look, I will place a wool fleece on the threshing floor. If there is dew only on the fleece and all the ground is dry, then I will know you will save Israel by my hand, as you said.' And that is what happened. Gideon rose early the next day; he squeezed the fleece and wrung out the dew-- a bowful of water."

another example: my cousin John Reid used to be in the marines. he is currently trying to decide if he should become a military chaplain. he posted on his blog about a peculiar experience with signs that he had just the other day:

Afterwards I stopped by Berean to look at some books. I didn’t have any in mind but I felt like I needed to entertain my bookstore fix. While there I stumbled across a book on special display written by a military Chaplain. I passed by it a few times before pulling it off display to take a gander. I didn’t want to spend the money but figured I’d read a few pages on the couch they had. He has been in for just over twenty years but wasn’t always a Chaplain. Take a wild guess at his former job…a military police. For those of you who don’t know I was a military police. Interesting huh? I didn’t get three pages further than that without reading of two other Chaplains he worked with. One’s name was John Reed…the other, John Read. Suddenly $15 seemed very trivial. [...] Is this a sign? Is this divine intervention? I can say confidently that it is. Whether it’s a sign that Chaplaincy is in fact what I’m called for is beyond mine or anyone’s authority to tell with absolute assert.

another example close to my heart: one day, i was walking home from jr high to my house, very upset and sad. God, is there any hope ? i asked. there was a wall of green leaves right next to me. "God, if there is hope, please let a pink flower just pop up in the midst of these leaves." wallah. a pink flower arose. one of the only ones there too. and i never forgot it. now everytime i see a pink flower, i know everything will be alright.

i could go on naming examples; but i will leave you with this. all in all; pray to God for signs, signs of what He wants you to do in His will. i am discovering in much more general signs now of the direction He wants me to go in in certain areas of my life. and it is a fantastic proccess.

Rest(less)

I am the sea on a moonless night,
Calling, falling, slipping tides
I am the leaky, dripping pipes
The endless aching drops of light
I am the raindrop falling down,
Always longing for the deeper ground
I am the broken, breaking seas
Even my blood finds ways to bleed

Even the rivers ways to run
Even the rain to reach the sun
Even my thirsty streams,
Even in my dreams

I am restless, I am restless
I am restless, looking for you
I am restless, I run like the ocean to find your shore
I�m looking for you

I am the one that you left behind,
I am the thorn stuck in your side
I am the bored and clouded eyes
Looking for the well that won�t run dry

Running hard for the other side
The world that I�ve always been denied
Running hard for the infinite
With the tears of the saints and hypocrites

Oh blood of black and white and gray
Death and life and night and day
One by one by one
We let our rivers run

I am restless, I am restless
I am restless, looking for you
I am restless, I run like the ocean to find your shore
I�m looking for you

Cause I can�t feel you breathing,
I can�t feel you reaching
Pushing through the ceiling
Making for the feeling
More than just a feeling

Pushing through the ceiling
Until the final healing
Looking for you

Until the sea of glass we meet
At last completed and complete
The tide of tear and pain subside
Laughter drinks them dry

I�ll be waiting
Anticipating
All that I aim for
What I was made for
With every heartbeat
All of my blood bleeds
Running inside me
Looking for you
Looking for you

I am restless, I am restless
I am restless, looking for you
I am restless, I run like the ocean to find your shore
I�m looking for you


---Switchfoot


Restless: Switchfoot


This is how I feel.

Dear Dream of Someone (Letter #9)

This is an excerpt from a current project I'm working on called "Letters to the Dream of Someone". It's about a girl who is writing to her future husband. So, enjoy.
#9
Dear Dream of Someone,
Summer is a good time. Oh boy is summer a good time. I was riding my friend’s bike through my old junior high school on the last day of school, and all I smell was the beautiful strawberries blooming in the west. And possibly the cinnamon bathroom scents they stuff in the porta potties on the blacktop in case of school-plumming issues and for the people that mow the lawn on Fridays, but it all came together forming a familiar mixture of my favorite smell of all time: the smell of summer.
Do you have a favorite smell, Dream? I probably know it by now. That’s something I’d really like to know, it’s important for me. I mean, if you are the “working-father” or even the “stay-home father” I’d like you to be surrounded by your favorite smell at all times so you can go back to a favorite memory of yours anytime you want. That’s what smells do for me. I guess they can take you back to not-so-great memories too, but why would your favorite scent be of something you don’t want to remember?
Can I relate to that in a bit? Somewhat. A few summers ago, wow; maybe five summers ago now actually, my dad was very very sick. Later that Christmas when he was feeling better (praise to God.) he said he was sure he was at the end of his life. But somehow in the midst of all his terrible cries I can never forget if I tried (have you ever heard a man cry? Especially your own father? I can describe it perfectly but I definatley do not want to.), in the midst of all the times I cried because all I could think was “God please oh please heal my father.”, in the midst of all the times my parents would encourage me to go have fun because they want me to of course but also because they did not want me around my father; my mother sat me down on the couch repeating to me “He’s not going to die. You’ve gotta have more faith than that.” And not only that, but even though those twist of events were most intense in that summer five years ago, the scent of summer in my house is STILL my favorite smell.
You just can’t change a person’s favorite smell. Of course, you can add favorite smells, but I don’t know if you can change them. Or at least, you can’t erase the memory a person gets when a certain scent is current.
On a different topic: Dream, I will confess something to you. My family, my house; is not perfect. In fact, it is messy. Yes, it is. The wood floor in my small kitchen is starting to tear and rot because of my leaking refrigerator. The rug of that same house has stains from when I was probably twelve years old. And the countertop is overflowing with dishes and my dad’s vitamins.
But you know what, Dream? My family is perfect to me, and for me. My house is perfect to me, and for me. My mom and I, we just spent a half an hour working on dinner and harmonizing hymns together. I walked across the rotting wood not caring about it at all because I was at peace lying on the support of my mother’s harmonies and melodies. I shoved aside bottles of vitamins and chopped lettuce as my mom and I sang “Amazing Grace”. And everything in the world was right, in that moment. And that moment will continue to keep everything right, when I look back on it and smile, everything will seem right.
You know what, Dream? Nothing is perfect. But that does not mean everything is not right. Everything is right. Every scent we experience, every piece of rotting floor we walk over. Everything is in it’s place for a reason, every person is in their mood for a reason (maybe they need to be a taught a lesson but that in itself is a reason,) every person meets someone else for a reason, my mom and I sang “Amazing Grace” for a reason.
And I wouldn’t change a thing.
I met you for a reason, didn’t I, Dream?
Love, Me

The New Wave (Year)

Happy New Year!

I established last year that the beginning of summer is like the beginning of the new year for me. I'm usually happier in June rather than January, so what are you gonna do?

But it certainly feels that way already, and we're only three days in. Whether my soul is being renewed by screaming random crud at the sky surrounded by your closest friends, or helping out with Jr High at church (yes! it's true!! so exciting), or on the second day of school smiling at the sight of a girl picking a flower.. and thinking how much we could learn from that one.

Summer is also a time of thought, of standing on one side of the reflection. The past few months have been a time of reflecting, seeing what I "missed" out on, looking at the mirror and thinking "dangit. dangit. dangit.", looking at the people standing behind me and seeing that they weren't ALWAYS happy like we all wish and chanting "dangit. dangit. what am I doing wrong now?"

but Summer is standing on another side of the mirror. The one people usually don't see. It's one of those see through mirrors, where you look in the mirror on one side but the other side you can see through the mirror into the person looking in the mirror.



and summer is also the time where I can look through this transparent mirror, and start to be okay with things. happy with them, quite frankly. of course, i continue to dream of how I wish things could be, but you want to the truth? I think i take joy in dreaming so much that when dreams become reality, sometimes it takes the fun out of it.

a poem once stated,

"Are you the shore
and I'm the girl?
In your waves
Should I twirl?
I've yet to see them
In the night
But I hear them crashing
'Til we see night.

It is winter,
I feel like just watching your waves
Behind this raindrop blanketed
Window
For now."

It's not winter right now, but this is how I feel. I love doing, going, loving, doing actions; but in all of these actions, watching and observing. Creating new things to reflect on in the future.

Summer 2011, I have no clue what you have in store for me. What people I will meet. What opprotunities I will have. But I'm ready to watch and act on what is planned.

Chrissy Z

Seventy Eighty Ninety

the day's length is seventy years,
or eighty, if we are strong.
but these days are only trouble and sorrow
because they quickly fly along.

we finish our days with a stretch-ed moan
and this anger built up holds Power.
teach us to number these days aright,
not Simply by minute or hour.

we rise And sing when morning comes,
does this rejoice hoLd some power?
we break liMits thinking how long it will be
'til we reach the minute or hour.

our secret sinS are shown in the light
as trouble spreads over the lands,
as well as that day, like a trying plague
please establish the work of our hands.


90

[cov·et]

Do you have that one friend where you are constantly looking their approval or acceptance?

It dosn't necessarily have to be the case where you say, "He's pressuring me into pot, so I think I'll try some."

This friend can just be anyone, Christian, Muslim, Black, White, Girl, Guy, pastor, king, random hobo you made friends with walking by a stopped train one day.

But you have this friend, you might not know it, but you could possibly have a friend like this. And you are either in one of three stages: the stage where you have no idea what I'm talking about but are blindlessly doing things to try to gain their heart's approval of you, the stage where you are reading this going "...Oh. I might be doing stage one...(well, now you're doing stage two by realizing that.) or stage 3, where you are saying to yourself "ohhh yeah. been there, done that. and now I am..."


and now I am, dot dot dot. What are YOU doing about this friend now? Are you still seeking approval or acceptance? This person is something special to you, maybe romantically, maybe because you really wish you were like them, maybe just because by being accepted by that one person it's your gateway to being accepted by others. Maybe this person makes you feel your most extremes; what I mean by 'extremes' is that they make you feel REALLY happy! or REALLY angry! or REALLY sad! or REALLY confused. but all you know is you want them to LIKE you, and maybe once in a while tell you how much they appreciate you.

now step back. take a look around. just step back from that person for a second and consider this: have you recently brushed or shooed someone's positive comment off? is there that one friend who ALWAYS says "hi, how are you?" while the person who you're trying to gain approval all just glances at you? maybe she/he is doing it in a jokingly way, but you know that there are other people who actually do care about you and appreciate you. and they tell you about it, too...

i've realized we live in a society of coveting. all of America is this way in general. we are spinning backwards trying to get the latest iPhone, "oh wait i thought you just got a new one two months ago?" "well yeah but this new one includes..." dot dot dot. we want things we cannot have.

and yes, God does play a role in all of this. He is constantly giving and giving, and what do we do? "God, i'd like to put in a request for a new iPhone, please." "God, i'd like to put in a request for a new boyfriend, please." "okay God, I know i prayed for a new boyfriend like yesterday and You gave me one but i don't like him that much anymore. i want THAT one."

that is why we want people's approval. because we want what we can't have.

i've learned that patience, time, God, and healing can change that.

Real Music

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_CDLBTJD4M&feature=player_embedded

Bach's Cantata 147, "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring." This, my friends, is real music. Phenominal. I don't even know what to say except maybe with minds like these their is hope after all. Please watch,

all my love
Chrissy Z

My Father and the Coach

We are running a race,
and your a bit ahead
I am stumbling to catch up
to you,
I am spinning in circles
biting my tongue
flapping my arms hoping that
maybe I can fly in the end
to catch up
to you,
thinking maybe if I meet you
at the end of the race
that'll show what I'm really worth,
to not only you but to myself.
when you tell me congratulations
shake my hand, then my brain,
then my heart
that'll show what I'm really worth
to not only you but myself
and for right now you are
a blinded coach,
you don't know you're
coaching me
but the truth is
I don't even know where
or when
this race ends,
I'm just following you.

But in the back
of my mind, there is
a truth
that I know.
My Father said not
to follow other coaches
without His consent.
I've rejected coaches before,
maybe I've rejected you before?
Oh Father,
I don't know if he'll really
coach me correctly,
should I really be
trying to catch up to this
blinded coach?
Do you yearn for me to even
follow after you, oh coach?
Would you capture me
if I tripped on the track
with bruises and scrapes
dripping down my back?

My Father seems to always know the
answers,
and today I asked Him what I should
do, and He told me
dearie, why are you running and stumbling
over your own feet for only the purpose
of catching up?
Don't you know coaches come and go,
and this one may seem very special,
(that's because he is very special),
but he is not the only coach;
one day a coach will come
who actually wants to teach,
to train you.
Maybe this coach will want to someday,
but for now, you can walk it out.
Maybe he'll stop and wait for you,
maybe someone else will come and
yearn to teach you and guide you
to the finish line,
and maybe you'll yearn for him
to teach you too.
But the truth is, my dear;
there is no need to run,
because this life is not even
a race.
Run as if it is! Yes, of course.
But not just to catch up
to other people, not just
to compare yourself to others
and not just to catch up
to others so they can compliment
your technique.
Go at your own pace,
and one day a coach will come after you
instead of vice versa
and encourage you.
This life,
in that sense,
is not a race..

Chasing Only the Skies

Chasing Only the Skies, by yours truly

That song of ours won't stop playing,
'twas my yielding sign to pull over and keep praying.
I come to the stop and close my eyes tightly,
Then I clasp my fingers around eachother lightly.
I see pitch black and not much more,
I never really knew what was ever in store.
I stare out my window after saying some words,
I walk along the trail with the heavy-songed birds.
These people and faces do know my name,
but even I don't know why I'm not the same
As the girl you and everyone else once knew,
Life gets less simpler when I'm aging with you.
Life is a chase, but direction is key;
should I chase you or you chase me?
Sometimes I'd like to believe I can close my eyes
and run anywhere I want, chasing only the skies
and what people believe to be living in them,
and when this life ends, living inside its jem.
Why so quiet when we talk about these things?
Why so emotional when there aren't even stings?
Why so hidden and kept behind?
Why so hidden inside of your mind?
What happened to the spark when we sang songs?
Why so many trips,falls,and wrongs?
Why so beautiful in the end,
Why still yearning to be my friend?
Why so critical, telling me to stop?
Why do we let our hearts stir 'til they POP!
Why do we spend so much of our days
on acting and crying and dying in plays
we think we'll be flipping about for the rest of ever
but right after the play, the script we cannot remember?
Call the answer what you want, some call it sin
some call it fate, some call it human
in the end tis not important what it is called,
it is important into who's arms we will then fall.

left and right

there's always that one class, where you either pass them in the morning because the students of the class are being wheeled into the room at around 7 or you see them on testing schedule because they open their door during a certain period but you're half way across campus by the time that happens. you can't help but feel bad for them because their hands are tangled up in- well, themselves. and their faces show true cluelessness (is that a word?) of the conditions they're in. and the lades rolling them around, you feel kinda bad for them too. just because what a tough job that must be, emotionally, to see these 17 18 19 year old kids but feed and teach them like they are 1-2 year olds.

and then you walk to your first few classes, and you laugh because you're friend and you call eachother retards periodically but of course you don't mean it. sometimes you guys even toss around the whole "you belong in a special eds class!" ordeal. and then when the special ed classes get brought up, some of the students call them retards, and you feel a little sting from that and a thought comes to your mind: "you are what you call other people." or even "i know you are, but what are they?"

could it be possible. just think about it for a second. could it be possible that, in this world, God has put who-knows-how-many people on this planet. and a fraction of them have downs, or are in special ed classes. and in doing this, humans have confused over time the people that are truly "retards" or truly have the dissability?

because think about it. i look at a girl walking across a bathroom stall i prepare to enter. she throws me a "how are you?" i say "good!". would anyone else even give me eye contact in the bathroom? look at how happy they are. they see life so simply, like in the eyes of a child, and from what i've observed it feels like they don't spend alot of time dwelling on the problems of life and the issues of today.

where as, the person calling someone else a retard, has struggled with depression various times in her life and at time blurs her own vision from seeing what she is so blessed with in her life because she is so caught up with what is not good or perfect in her life. and look at HER health, look at HER normal body and face, and she is not even close to what the "touched" girl on the LEFT looks like.

the girl on the LEFT and the girl on the RIGHT, they make me wonder. could the "normal" people really be the retarded ones? because of our negativity, because of our focus on the issues and what's the flukes in every blessing? whereas people like the girl on the left are actually the ones who get it right and understand how to really live life because they are joyful, abundantly happy, and look at life in a simple and uncomplicated matter. we could really learn a lot from them.

the girl on the right is the real retard, huh? the girl on the left is the real one who knows what's up.

by the way, i'm the girl on the right.

"oh envelopes, stuffed with feelings found, to write this down in means to reconcile"

cool idea. starting to write letters to notes to myself. on what? life. in a way i'm not just writing to myself though. someone else is reading them too.

and sometimes that someone will be you! this is one of those times.

w/ love. chriSSy z

a letter.

Dear Chrissy,

You know, there are some things that just happen for a reason. There are some things you just need to forgive yourself about and forget. Decisions you make, maybe later you regret those decisions more than anything. But they are there for a reason. Something else was meant to happen to you. Something better.

Live life. Regret nothing! Give THANKS. Surround yourself with love, surround others with love. There was a reason for the decisions you've made. All for the better, my friend.

God loves you so much. And you love Him so much too..

And don't forget, you're only fifteen.

Love, Christina

"(Blank) Beginnings"

Hey guys, the funniest thing happened to me last night.
I was having a terrible time going to sleep. But I came up with an idea which I have no idEA how it came to my head but iit just did (this happens sometimes in the middle of the night.) But I got this idea to form a new blog about (blank.) Don't know what I mean? Check it out here, I really encourage you to, it could help you to see life in a different and new perspective:

http://itspagesareblank.blogspot.com/2011/04/beginnings.html


Thanks. Happy blogging,
Chrissy Z

"Tomorrow's Song"

Tomorrow's Song
_______________
I want to live tomorrow
Stop feeling drowned in sorrow
But the silver lining’s gone.

Because I can only see
Silver oceans in front of me
Weaving out an old familiar song:
(chorus)
Dreamer, dancer, singer, chancer
Do all those things today
Soon your balloon of opportunity will uncut from your wrist
And surely fly away

The balloon’s in a tree
Yelling “minstrels! Set me free!”
Please don’t feel so wrong!

Climb up in it’s leaves
And befriend all it’s thieves
And sing to it tomorrow’s song!
(chorus)

So I won’t settle for
Waiting around for my time to say
“It’s ready, open the door”
I say, I’ll open the door today!!

But the reason, we sing tomorrow’s song
Is to keep the hope going fresh and new
So keep singing, and keep bringing
All the faith and life you have inside of you!!!
(chorus)

when flowers gaze at you, they're not the only ones

"Boston" By Augustana.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ASJBXu8tNo

In the light of the sun, is there anyone? Oh it has begun...
Oh dear you look so lost, eyes are red and tears are shed,
This world you must've crossed... you said...

You don't know me, you don't even care, oh yeah,
You said
You don't know me, and you don't wear my chains... oh yeah,

Essential yet appealed, carry all your thoughts across
An open field,
When flowers gaze at you... they're not the only ones who cry
When they see you
You said...

You don't know me, you don't even care, oh yeah,
You said
You don't know me, and you don't wear my chains... oh yeah,

She said I think I'll go to Boston...
I think I'll start a new life,
I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name,
I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather,
I think I'll get a lover and fly him out to Spain...
Oh yeah and I think I'll go to Boston,
I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind...
I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset,
I hear it's nice in the Summer, some snow would be nice... oh yeah,

You don't know me, you don't even care, oh yeah...

Boston... where no one knows my name... yeah
Where no one knows my name...
Where no one knows my name...
Boston...
No one knows my name.
_________________________________________________

i don't think i'd want to go to boston though. i don't mind chino hills. but i yearn for somewhere new. somewhere by the beach maybe. or with lots of green. i need a change of scenery. some new form of excitement. meet someone new. meet someones new. i refuse to ask anyone to change unless they know what they need to change. why would i do that when i have so many things to change within myself? a change of direction. sure, there are variables in my life that will never change. like certain friends, my family, and God. but life, life is so temporary. those variables are the only things that are not. everything else, i see things sparking change within other things, and i think maybe it's a call. "Hello Chrissy. i am giving you tests. and if you pass you can move on. then things will change. always for the better, i tell you; even if it seems like it's for the worse. new people will enter. old people will re-enter. you will start spending weekday nights elsewhere maybe. or maybe you'll stay. but I've got it all under control, my daughter. as for now take these words and pray for others. and for yourself."

i think God lives in Boston... i think God lives everywhere

mushing musings

should i start this post off with a question?

monday musings.

one. to be, or not to be? to write, or not to write and sing instead? to study the bible, or to write and not sing instead? that is the question. journalism, or not to journalism and choir instead? choir, or not to choir and bible class instead? what does HE want.

two. why does canned laughter on television shows exist. really. these kids watch disneychannel thinking if they say or do something funny then HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA everyone's gonna laugh. then they go out and try to imitate disneychannel and they get made fun of instead. from experience my friends.

three. feelings, attractions in general,are like roller coasters. at first your roller coaster starts out slow, nice and easy. then it completley stops. then you feel all your feelings at full impact, slapping every part and centimeter in and out of your body. i think that's teenage hormones in general. but attraction, yes.

four. you make us compare and contrast in school, as a teenage i took this and did it to myself ! i make life a venn diagram with other individuals ! but little do i see that in the part of the diagram we share there is a word written down: "jealousy." (it might be leaning more towards my fraction of the diagram though.)

five. i even go to the extent of drawing a venn diagram of my life with the movies.

six. word of God speak, would you pour down like rain?

seven. PsAlMs haha when i was little i got "psalms" and "palm sunday" mixed up.

and should i end this post off with a question?

all it takes is a

i felt more love from a girl i had a brief encounter with in the high school bathroom then i did from of the people i've known for YEARS.

all it takes is a "how are you?" and one that actually means they want to listen.

All the World's a Stage...his acts being seven ages. -William Shakespeare

It's quite funny:

(actually it's not funny at all but for some reason i feel a need to start this entry off this way.)

I have friends who i often look at and think: wow, they get offended VERY easily. the littlest thing ticks them or makes them want to cry or curl up in a ball or yell or punch someone's face. and i remember thinking how foolish it was.

and now i am thinking, how funny how it's NOT funny that i probably do this more then them. get offended from the simplest corrections people make on me and little words i take hugely to heart. why? why can't i let things brush off my shoulder? why do i get jealous soo easily? why am i such a hypocrite? and most importantly why do i always bag on myself.

this is what's backstage. what i mean is, i'm learning that life is truly a stage. life is an act! you go out and say your lines, pretending like everything is okay or something or pretending everything is NOT okay or something. different motives make you act differently. there's points you get so into the story that God's unraveling for you your acting isn't acting anymore, it's real. a girl i know--- she doesn't act. she sincerley wants to help the poor & needy. it's the real deal. another girl, she's hurting. inside. deeply, emotionally. maybe it was acting once before. i don't think she knows if it was ever acting. but now, now it's real. now it really hurts. and she doesn't know what to do about it. she though the scar was fake blood. but now.

and backstage is where your closest people are, the people who know when you're acting and know when you're not. they know what's up. they're the stage crew for your life. they take the time to get you ready, and they give you pep talks and tell you good luck. and whether you come back crying or dancing or having to use the restroom they are your right hand-men to help at any given times. i'm learning in this life you need a good stage crew, meaning a great group of people who will be there for you no matter what. it's so crazy seeing who really is backstage and who really isn't. who is needed to be kept backstage and who i need to leave the door proped open for. "go get some fresh air, you know? maybe come back when you're ready to be a real help to this show. to this life. otherwise go focus on your other stages because i dont really feel your help here." i've felt that before too. being fired from someone's act. oh gosh how that's painful. it's painful firing someone too, one of the most painful things. but just to be fired, kicked out on the street until you find someone else willing to hire you. i am blessed enough to say that God has given me maybe stages to help set up and keep accountable for and has giving me an amazing beautiful stage crew to keep me accountable. but it's not easy, it's painful of course. that's life though, that's hollywood.

but gosh it's the craziest thing when you see the one element that NEVER leaves whether you're on the stage, or watching eagerly backstage, or wandering in the lonely streets of hollywood wondering where to go now.the element, ask any actor, is the motivations that keep you going; that keep you WANTING to act still. what IS that? in this life some call it faith, some call it nengkan, some just call it motivation in general. but in certain lives, it's called God. i should say He is called God.

and it's painful being corrected while you're on stage!! i know the real directors in my life and i know the people who think they're directors but really have no where else to go and just want an excuse to criticize people! those are the critics. they give you their star amount and a fraction of people will let those stars twinkle in their eyes and walk out the back door thinking "this show looks lame... it only got a 2 star rating." or heck maybe you'll give a 4 star rating and the audience is crowded, you're as popular as can be and everyone loves you! and somewhere in the audience there's that one special character who you always watch and never take your eyes off of-- you can't even if you tried. and they will come and go. but eventually, you know when you see hiim/her-- you think; "i want him/her back stage. i know he/she might be able to help me." so you'll let a few of them backstage, and yes they'll wreck a few things. they might turn off the lights at the wrong time or tear a few curtains on accident. but you forgive, and afterwards you find someone who spot on knows what you need. and without even lifting a finger they give you what you need to be the best actor you can be.

now i'm not saying your life is fake and you're just acting. sure there are times in your life where that is the case; but i am saying that your life is a STORY, a SCRIPT, written by something, someone bigger then we could ever imagine. and like i said, all these critics come in and try to direct the show but really they don't know what the heck is up because there's already somebody directing the show anyway. all of our shows in fact. He's the king of directors and script-writers. and many of his actors/actresses, well frankly they begin to fall in deep love with Him. not a romantic love-- like i said, that's for the one person they see in the audience that makes there acting complete. no, this kind of love is the love that you find in your favorite book. oh gosh, when you hit that last page, that last word, that last period. you turn to the back of the book and feel the soft smooth texture and after that you are always quoting it and always remembering it and always thinking "that story MEANS something." and you LOVE what it says, and what it proclaims to you, and how you're moved by it. that's the kind of love some people develop for the director.

but some people come to be frustrated with the director. gosh flabbit, He is sure making your story not fun or interesting or cool or easy.. sometimes the story is even kind of painful, upsetting, depressing, and heart-drenching. a fraction of those people look up to the director and say "what the hexagon are you doing with the story, you are SC-REWING it up. there is SO MUCH MORE that can be done and should be done to it. look at THAT person's play. so much more interesting, and easy..." and a fraction of THOSE people get so jealous of other people there story is not director-written anymore. it is of them sitting in a corner criticizing something in front of them, a fraction of THOSE people are sitting in front of a screen, either criticizing someone in the blue and white margins of facebook or the colorful but dull margins of television.

but who is respected, who seems to gain the most out of this life, this story, this play, at the end, at fin; is the ones who have the trying times in their play but still choose to fall in love with the director. the humble ones who try to make their acting, NOT acting as much as possible. the ones who are backstage often, trying to thank and stay connected and help the ones who come to help him/her. the ones who don't even see the stars people hang on their scripts like a Christmas tree. or maybe they do see the stars but they prefer to have no stars at all so they know when people come to see their show it's not based off a rating but rather the audience actually yearning to know the main character.

and then, the actor dies. their story ends. for some of them. but a fraction of the actors, my friends, do not just get burried in the walk of fame. they don't have a gravestone in the shape of a star on some street in hollywood, "look they have a piece of ROCK to symbolize their life." nope. some people rise, to a new kind of story. this story has a taste that is too sweet for our human tongues to touch. and the same director is directing it, and writing it. in fact He's not a mystery to you anymore. in your first story you couldn't see the director with your human eyes, he always remained a constant mystery to you. but in THIS story, He's not a mystery anymore. you get to hang out with him, talk to Him about your old story and other people's stories and this story that's happening now. but you have to wonder---is it even considered a story if it never has an ending? ♦

mansion

"we don't want blessings...we want You."

we knocked on the door of the house. nope not a house. a room that had a 10 inch wall between itselt and it's neighbor. an old woman comes out, short and knows no english. but it's okay because carlos can translate. he's really quiet and sweet, but is probably most valuable among all of us. they exchange words and i feel like i've seen this woman before--- not in the fact that i recognize her, but in the fact there are so many woman out there like her. from looks at least. but after they exchange words, carlos and this small woman, underneath her glasses her brown eyes sparkle with hope. it's hard to completley remember what was said, but after they takled for a little bit she invited us in her home. and it might as well been as big as a house because of all the pictures inside it, it felt like it was BIGGER than a regular home; and how she probably treasured all the people posing on her wall-- children, adults, and in between. and right as we walked inside her house was no longer just a small door with people peeking out the thick screen door--- it was a mansion. a mansion of pictures, and of hope for a better future.

we stepped inside the mansion and she continued to talk to us. she gave us a pamphlet of her church-- we had invited her to ours too. and then, the leader in the v-neck, asked if she needed prayer; beinghis job and all. but when he asked this time, it didn't really seem like it was his job and he HAD to ask. there was something different about it. then she looked to carlos, and possibly looked down, and stated a sentence of spanish. carlos repeated, "she said to pray cause her husband drinks alcohol and does drugs." we wrapped our hands around eachothers and said a prayer for the husband. her name was brinda. it was a beautiful prayer. and the great thing was, half of us didn't know the other half at all. but after that prayer, i felt like we had known the other half by more than just the translator and the intern in the v-neck who knew what to say. i knew one thing about all of them, including the lady: the Lord was working in them. they all starved for God. and the truth is, sometimes that's all we need to know. and that day, it was.

we walked out of the mansion, being hugged with deep thanksgiving and kissed on the cheek by the lady who was no longer just like any other lady by looks. she wanted hope. i don't know if she knew it or not but she had it. in her mansion, in her spirit, in eachother's hands when we wrapped them around eachothers, in her big brown eyes behind the glasses. for maybe a minute in that circle we all forgot who we were. not sure if we could tell you our names at the moment, we were all one person just crying out to God for His help. and He will. maybe not in the way we want even, but in the way we need.

and we continued to be one person. of course we exchanged questions like, "where do you want to go from this, v-neck?" and from v-neck to us "where do you guys go to school?" and thanking carlos for his amazing talents. thank God for carlos. he lived in those homes, and got to develop connections and relationships with them and speak in their tongue. a few of them even said "ey carlos."

a lady with no nerve endings asking if she could bring her walker on the bus to the church behind one thick black screen door. a lady with a newborn baby telling us to pray for her stress and just for peace in her home. a girl with stringy hair and some of the most beautiful hazel eyes who i wish i'd have asked if she needed any prayer.

i had more fun knocking on doors talking to strangers in LA then i have had in this entire 2011.

"we don't want blessings...we want You."

Coulette-- chapter one.

the bridge, it was quite long. and when i ran across it, i wanted to go off course, jump over the side and land in the abyss of... the rest of time. would something stop me anyway? maybe "God" would stop me. maybe, right before i leap into the air, i would realize the meaning of life!! maybe, the love of my life would come dashing in to save the day, grabbing my shoulder and yelling, "wait! -huff huff- instead of jumping off the bridge... would you like to walk to the end of it with me?"

i know what i'd like to walk to the end of. this life. so, i'm gonna do it. my friends always told me, what if you were trapped in a white chamber with a terrorist giving me two choices: to kill myself, or for him to torture me for the rest of my life. would "God" understand? oh man i HATED those kinds of questions. just shuddup, kay? because truthfully, why the HECK would that even happen? honestly. some people have to much time on there brains... anyway. even if i wasn't in the chamber i'd still do it. not just cause i hate my life and everything. i'm not like that. you know, one of those "depressed" people who THINK they are depressed but are really starving for eyes to be fixed on the black that they drown themselves in (whether they're drowing in their too-thick eyeliner or their too-tight pants or band tees.) i just... wanted to feel something. i felt NOTHING in this life. you know, i thought i felt love once. but look at me now. so i'm tired of trying to feel love. i wanna feel the adrenaline of flying. what does it feel like to fly? i've always wondered, and dreamt....

dreams become reality if only for the last few seconds of my reality. because i'm doing it. i'm running. i'm sprinting. i'm almost flying just leaping across this bridge. shift in direction. up the walls. the things that trap us in. is their panic behind me? not sure, but don't really care. i stand over this bridge and abyss of green below me. they always said green was symbolic of calmness and serenity. yeah, i'll be calm now...

the bottom of my shoes,which i can't recall which pair of shoes i'm wearing. they wave goodbye as they leap off the metal, and they greet the air. sorry for such a short hello, but i must be leaving soon they tell the sky and air. all my body parts do the same. goodbye. i even feel like my lips said goodbye. out loud?

i feel an absence. an absence of... force. of ground. i haven't hit it yet. i didn't think i'd be able to fly this long. what? my brain is going in twelve different directions now--- still trying to say goodbye, another direction wondering why in the world am i still trying? one direction trying to think of how i could possibly not injure myself from this stunt, one direction wondering how in the name of harry potter i haven't hurt myself yet. more and more directions. if i don't hit the ground before i die, i think i will die from too much weight in my head from all my different thoughts and panic modes. what is going on? is the most distinct direction.

i feel myself losing sight of the green abyss. it's gone. what is coming into view now?m aybe i DID hit the ground. maybe this is death greeting my feet hello now. it just wasn't anything i ever imagined. but it's gotta be it! that's gotta be the end of my time greeting my feet. what else could be greeting them now? but maybe...

who has control of my vision? no longer me. something, someone has taken over. and now all i can see is... a little girl. she has short, curly bouncy white locks. well, almost white. her hair is blindingly blonde. she has a cherry-red overall dress on, ankle socks, and cherry red buckle shoes. her face, it sparkles with joy and laughter; even if she isn't smiling. her eyes scream wonder and curiousity. oh man, i miss innocence so much. if i could just touch and feel THAT again...

she bounces, she leaps. she's like tigger. and once the thought of tigger entered my mind, i now identified that name as HER name. no other name would fit her now. she held that innocence and happiness and bounce about life no one else but tigger (and possibly roo) held. bounce. bounce. bounce...

what is she bouncing on. what is she bouncing on? i want to bounce! funny, last time i tried jumping, look what happened. funny again... i don't really know what happened after i left the top of the bridge. i forget that thought and continue to watch her bounce. all the sudden she stops. she stares at something. that curiousity in her eyes, holy... it was like someone was giving me an injection of it or something. it made ME curious as who KNOWS what. i saw a shape. four cornered, right angles... a square? she was looking out it. okay, it's a window. she's staring at it. maybe not even staring AT it, but OUT it? she freezes withthat same posisition for 23 seconds (i counted.) and leaps. but this was no average leap. she... she dived into the air. her feet, they waved goodbye to her bedpan and hello to the air for only a split second. sorry i couldn't stay longer, her feet whisper into the silence. and the rest of her body parts. and she lands. right in front of the window. what does that feel like? the moment you land right after you jump? i forgot. but she stood there and did the exact same thing. stare. stare. stare, stare, stare, curiousity, stare, curiousity, stare, stare, stare. at this point, i realized this wasn't like TV; i might be able to reach out and grab what layed in front of my eyes. i did so. nothing. maybe it WAS like TV. i never liked TV anyway. well, not after i turned 15 and a half, i didn't. at that time, i realized watching TV was equivalent to being babysat...psychologically. so i stood, without control; being forced to watch goldilocks stare.and stare. and stare.

but soon enough, she greeted movement by greeting the window. she started drawing shapes and figures on the window (in the window?) with the paintbrush on the tip of her finger. she drew hearts, stars, and happy faces; because that was all she was taught. that was all she ever knew. she tried drawing a musical note, which i admit was pretty advanced for ayoung girl like her. it was in the wrong direction but it was pretty close. it made me miss music. what did music sound like? i had forgotten that too...

as i watched this girl, i felt as if i was staring just like her. in fact... i felt like i was staring into a mirror. doing the same thing as her, or she doing the same thing as me? watching HER look into a mirror. was SHE watching herSELF look into a mirror? i couldn't see what was on the other side of the window. but i knew, that, i saw my reflection on that day. or second. or hour. or centimeter? i forgot about time too.

then she jerked. a noise shattered her serenity. she turned around.
"cole," the voice behind her murmered. "what are you doing ? the neighbors downstairs said they heard a big shake. did you jump off the bed again ?"

tigger glanced over at the figure now identifying with the noise. "yes melody."

melody's eyes came into view now. i could see her pupils lose their graps of gravitational force and rise up to the top of her eyes. "cole," she stated, as if she was tired of repeating herself. "humans can't fly. even if we jump off beds. unless we go in.. airplanes. but everytime you try to fly off the bed you disrupt the neighbors downstairs. so stop, okay?"

i think melody could tell tigger was dissapointed. she looked out the sqaure again. she had this look on her face that i could tell would be imprinted into her spirit for a long, long time. an expression she would use again; holding wonder but dissapointment and discontent as well. "look, cole." melody's figure was defined now as she slid over to tigger. "you can try flying again when the pool is open."

"can we go right now?" oh man, tigger, i would give you a piggy back ride to the pool if i could. those eyes could make me do anything... i think probably anyone else would feel the same.

"no, cole. it's too cold outside. it's almost the end of winter. maybe... maybe in a few months. okay?"

"months, melly!?"

"you can wait, months aren't that long."

this woman. she didn't have a clue. a CLUE. in kid years, minutes were hours, hours were days, days were months, months were years, and years... were a childhood's lifetime.

but tigger just nodded. "melly.. do the neighbors downstairs not like me huh?"

"why would you ask that?"

"well, whenever i'm bouncing my ball outside... they always tell me to stop. like i'm making too much noise. and when i jump off the bed... they tellme to stop. and when i dance... they tell me to stop again."

melody's head nodded. "sweetie, sit down. let me tell you about the neighbor's downstairs."

tigger plopped onto the bed, and melody sat like a ballerina or something. "cole, they aren't blessed like you and i. you see, they want kids like you. they know you have a beautiful spirit... they just can't have kids like you. mommy and daddy are lucky and can. but they just don't have luck in that area i guess. so whenever you bounce your ball, or dance in the kitchen, or jump off your bed... it's just making them remember how they don't have a great kid like you. okay?"

"why can't they have a kid like me? that's a sad story."

"because..." melody stared out the window for a few seconds, silent. "because the stork that brings down the babies to the mommy's and daddy's skipped them on accident. maybe one day he'll come and give them one after all. but now just...isn't the time."

"maybe if i learned how to really fly i can find the stork and tell him to bring them down a baby just like me!"

melody started to comb through her blonde pasta-like hair. "the stork is..." she paused again, out the window her eyes focus flew. "the stork is a lonely one. but he likes being alone. he knows he has to do his job on his own." she nodded to herself. "okay? but i bet he really likes that you want to help so much."

tigger nodded. and that's when i saw it. that when i saw who i was looking at. at that moment, her head nod. the way she understood, and the way she always stared out that window. i knew who it was.


---Chrissy Z


please don't steal. i would copyright this if i knew how. please! (:

diverged in a yellow wood,

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
[ ],
and it has made all the difference.


---Robert Frost

theRaindropMusing

it wasn't too rainy of a day. it was actually pretty sunny outside. a little cloudy, but after all the rain we've had we couldn't complain. there were still drops racing down the window as we drove to school, but no signs of rain. it was kinda nice.

the window was crying almost, but it looked like it was crying tears of joy. how could one identify the difference between teardrops of joy or teardrops of sorrow on an blank unemotional window? it was all in the actual tears. every raindrop held a reflection of something. and on that day, it looked like instead of raindrops falling down the window's cheeks; stars were falling down instead because of the suns reflection on the raindrops. beautiful would be too loose of a word to describe it.

we are all raindrops. we reflect others, and vice versa. i'm discovering that what i don't like in other people i hold inside my own self. there is a quote (that i unfortunatley cannot bring to mind) that states what humans are composed of are all the experiences they've ever experienced and all of the people they've ever met. are we just mirrors then?

would you find that discouring? i kinda do. the thought that we all reflect eachother is a downer. but the thing is, we don't reflect eachother in EVERY single way. we reflect eachother in different ways; good or bad. you can do either one of two things: accept what your reflection is. whether you think you're beautiful, or ugly, or whatever. or, try to change your reflection. this could be a good or bad thing, trying to change yourself because you don't think you look "good" (or maybe even because you want to look "bad".)

i'm also learning that in the end it's not what your opinion, or what other people's opinion, on who you are (or your "reflection") is. the only opinion that matters on you is God's. humans will do anything to change their physical reflection. yet, they're still never satisfied. people try to change their personality to look a certain way. why? we continously care what people see of us.

but maybe, God wants us to be like those sunny raindrops. yes, to have our own different shapes and sizes; big and small. but to overall reflect the sun's glory and light. reflect what good things come in front of us, or reflect to others good things that God shows us. to overall be lights in this world.

falling stars.

"Do everything without grumbling or arguing, 15 so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation. Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky 16 as you hold firmly to the word of life." --Philippians 2:14-16

or stars racing down a window on a cold January day.

This isn't psychologically or spiritually significant, but I think in the long run it can be. (:

So,I just wanted to say you should follow


modesty.blogspot.com


It's a blog by this great guy named Stephen Christian; who's a big influence on this blog actually. he's famous for his band Anberlin but he's written a great book and has a side project called Anchor and Braille and also leads an orginization calle Faceless international.


Stephen takes everyday stories and makes you see life in a whole new perspective, even if it's the perspective of a fish bowl. (See his latest bowl; it's not an inside joke I sware.) I also encourage you to buy his book from Amazon with leftover Christmas caching; it's called "The Orphaned Anythings: A Memoir of a Lesser Known." Has to be one of the best books of ALL time.

Thanks, and I'll be posting something soon!

CLZ.