in the black street when it's all you really know.

Homework. I was doing it. Then, off in the distance beyond my open window, I hear a little voice. She was reciting something I heard on Disneychannel once, one of those commercials where the kids go on TV to talk about the cool job there parents had. She would say, "Hi, my name's ______, and my dad does this and this for a living." Then she'd end it with the catchphrase they kids also say on the commercial, "What a Life!" Gosh, when I looked out that window, I thought I was looking in a mirror. She reminded me so much of when I was a kid. She was pacing around on her scooter, saying this stuff, pretending she was on Disneychannel. When I was little, I'd just walk outside with either my handball or my basketball, and walk around the whole neighbor just making up stories or pretending to be on shows like on Disneychannel or something; just bouncing my ball. Beautiful memories of those days, of just getting lost in the stories I made up, being such great friends with these imaginary people. I use to do it everyday after school, I remember. My neighbor, who we call Senior, used to tell me to count how many times I bounce my ball. That actually made me a bit uncomfortable, because I hated it when people were outside at the same time I was bouncing my ball. I didn't like it, because it would appear I was talking to myself, and I hated imagining what a weird kid people thought I was seeing myself talking to no one.

But right as I looked out the window, her big brown eyes met mine, and she got this sheepish look on her face and all she could do was hiccup "Hi." I could've sworn I was looking in a mirror of when I was younger again.

It's really silly, once you think about it, how much I cared what people thought of me. One of the things I loved to do most was making up stories and bouncing my ball. It was my escape from the world. It was my own world. I loved it there.

But after a time, I just stopped. I stopped bouncing my ball. Why? I don't really know. It just kind of faded. Actually, I had gotten this big, soft ball from an arcade place and I would take that and hit it against my wall in my bedroom. It wasn't the same as outside in my Col De Sac, but I guess I thought it was better at the time because it was inside and I could be in my own privacy without having the fear of people wondering "Why is she talking to herself?"

When I reached an age when I stopped completley, my dad told me I should bounce my ball again. He said he thought it was a way of me clearing my thoughts and just a distressing thing for me, and it was. Not long after I stopped did I battle with different emotional problems. Kind of sad.

Now I still don't bounce my ball, but I wish I did. My neighbors would probably all come up to me and say, "Bouncing the old ball again Chrissy?" Even in one of my "get well" cards I got from my neighbors after getting an operation, it said "We miss hearing you bounce your ball. Get well soon."

You know what was the only thing that stopped me? I don't. Maybe it was maturing. Maybe it was no more time because of homework or something. But I feel like a big possiblity was that I unconciously let myself believe people thought I was strange, and I myself thought so too, and I stopped because of it.

Next time, I won't watch my little neighbor out the window, if she ever does recite Disneychannel again. I'll just let her pace by on her scooter. I don't want her to ever stop herself just because she sees someone watching her. I don't ever want her to believe she's strange just because she has an imagination she's willing to say out loud. That's what makes her beautiful, is her imagination. and her innocence.

"sees a young girl smile on the black street
clothed in innocence

Dancing and dreaming
like a girl she used to know
oh, little girl, please always
let your white stars glow.

Let your white stars shimmer
just like the snow
like them sparkle in the black street
when it's all you really know."

Between me and the Door (intented to be posted 10/3/10)

Transistion: summer, fall.

So I'm a few weeks behind. I feel like summer has just been everlasting, like it's seriously lasted for more than 3 months. So many things have happened over the summer, so many things have changed; including my mind and myself. Or at least I've attempted change.

Good change? Bad change? I don't want to label it. It's just God's change. It's what He wants. It's just Him blessing everything. Even if there's trials. It's a blessing. Everything is a blessing.

Memories of summer, and now transistioning into fall:
1. Forever Younglife Fridays.
2. Downtown West Covina, Jack's Mannequin narrating riding along the border of the shore on July 3rd.
3. Switchfoot narrating... everything.
4. Anything Jon Foreman sings narrating... everything.
5. Switchfoot narrating an amazing day on the beach with 4 of my best friends <3
6. Stars.
7. Letters.
8. Woodview Lane. Emphasis on that one. Driving up there, outlooking the city lights, waving hello in the ocean of the night sky. Talking to my mom about our same drive on that road on January 1st, and what resolutions we made. Quite sad, because we couldn't recall what resolutions we made.
9. Tears. Sad ones, sure. But mostly tears of joy.
10. Rain. In summer?! Yes. Pouring. Dancing in it. Dancing on it. Praying in it. The surplus the rain left in the sky. Sitting on a playground, singing songs and discovering many things. <3
11. Paper, pens.
12. My treehouse. And the canyon. My escapes from the world.
13. Reily Minton's house.
14. "Your Love is Strong" by Jon Foreman.
15. Dancing around to "Stars" by switchfoot, having a spazz attack playing metaphorical drums with two of my best friends playing metaphorical gutairs.
16. Fiction Family.
17. Toujour Votre.
18. So much more.

Did you actually read that whole list? Congratulations.

These, and like 40 other things are what made up my summer and part of my life. So many new doors are being opened, some doors even possibly being closed; but I don't like to turn and dwell and what I'm leaving, I only love seeing the glow of the new door being opened. But, I'll only open if He knocks.

"Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me." Revelation 3:20

Come Lord. Let me not be selfish. Let me not always change the subject of conversation continuously to something about me. Let me always think of others first. Subtract my selfishness. Subtract myself from...myself. Instead of talking all the time, letting words slip out of my mouth and thoughts slip out of my mind, let me listen to your knock and open the doors You need me to get to.

"Under the floor between me and the door there's a presence i cannot deny" <3

the Organs of a Piano.

Yesterday, I cleared the top of my piano clean (the way it SHOULD be) and opened it up. I clicked a few keys and watch the wooden levers tap the metal strings inside the Yamaha Spinnit. It's all so beautiful to me, how much beauty can be drained out of piano-- and all from the mechanics inside. Am I stange for opening up my piano when I play instead of leaving it closed like it usually is? I don't really care if the answer is yes.

I like to open things up. I like to open people up. I like to see the inside of things. Because the inside, that's where the beauty happens. The inside is what's naturally making eveything work; and you can say that about almost anything. A human body-- all the organs and bones on the inside are what make the body function properly and beautifully. Same with a piano, or pretty much any instrument. Any form of technology, a computer, a tv. Even with houses-- you don't like a house because of it's outside, do you? For some people, the outside of the house does count for something, but you're not going to buy a house because 'it looks pretty'. What's on the inside?

I guess that's why I ask such random questions to people. It's all in the process of opening them up; making them think outside of there image. Going beyond what they see with there eyes, but rather; seeing what's inside of the world and themselves. It's going beyond this natural 'mask' they put on. What is behind that mask? Opening people up I find, is one of my favorite things to do. To see what a human thinks, or why he/she makes the desicions she makes, fascinates me and gets people closer to helping eachother. I just wish people could learn to accept and love the insides of other people, and see the potential they have.

Every human being has potential in SOMETHING (even if it's having potential in being potential.) That alone is a glimpse of hope. but when a human is hypocritical enough to call someone stupid, that's not subtracting hope itself but subtracting the insulted human being from seeing the hope.

When you see a book, you don't just look at the cover, right? That's not what books were made for. They were made to look inside and see all the amazing things that can be learned, or finding extreme wonders that the human mind would never think up of on its own.

Why don't we try opening up someone? Let's not open up people to insult/criticize them, but accept/love/help them. Appreciate them, be fascinated but the extreme wonders they have come up with or experienced.

Because it's one of the most beautiful things; listening to an open piano being played.

--Chrissy Z

Deserted Fountains Rescued

in the deserts
of the heart,
let the healing
fountain start.

In the prison
of his days
Teach the free man
how to praise.

--WH Auden

Meant to be Wild, Meant to be Beautiful.

An old woman who's probably been scarred a trillion times more then she is scarring her own grandaughter by screaming at her, telling her what she does wrong and that she is a little brat. An old woman who doesn't take the time to see what potential her grandaughter has, and that she should actually try to be more childlike; rather then being childish and screaming at the poor innocent soul who will probably rebel from her innocence because of how the old woman's treated her.

And all I do is sit and watch. Maybe I tell the girl once in a while, "It's okay, what she's saying is not true." And encourage her. But in the end, what can I truly do? And if I can do something what is stopping me from doing it?

My very good friend once said, roses were meant to be wild; and people trim them and cut them and try to make them look pretty for the inside of their houses.

When in the end, it's only God that can make these roses beautiful. They were meant to grow naturally and wildly; not being cut up and brought in contained houses.

Have you ever just wanted to adopt a person to take care of on your own?

Yes.

--Chrissy Z

"Never write about a place until you're away from it, because that gives you perspective”-

I'm not the one to always have the coolest dreams. Lately, my dreams have been consisting of tripped out proportions that don't usually make sense. Hey, its better then the nightmares I use to have, right?

But the other night, the day before my birthday, I had a dream. There were different colored people all sitting at a Burger King, like outside it at tables. They all had sheet music, or at least I think they did; I remember looking at a pile of sheet music. The sheet music each person had was from their own religion. When I woke up, I intrepreted this as these different people having sort of a singing war to seek which religion was the best.

But the next day, I pondered on it. My first thought about the dream was: war. I automatically took it as we were FIGHTING. I thought about it and came to another conclusion-- I didn't remember why we were all there in the dream, or why we were all sharing the sheet music with eachother; but maybe that was just it-- we were sharing it with eachother. Maybe we were just sharing about what we believed in, what we put our faith in.

Why did my first thought have to be "War." ? I have gained two new curiousities from this dream...

a) why do humans think the tiniest bit of controversy means someone wants to start a fight, debate, ect?

b) what happens when people look at a different perspective to get a different result?

Referencing to a). I remember talking with an old aquantance that I hadn't seen in a while about how he was doing. What I got: he resorted to drugs. Parties. Sadness and prayer stand in my heart for him, his definition was misunderstanded and not comforted enough; maybe not even at all. And when he asked me if I didn't go to parties, I don't remember my reply exactly but it was amongst the lines of "Never did, never will. It's just not me" and he asked, "Why are you trying to start a debate?" I felt bad because that's the exact opposite of what I was trying to do, but look at his mind. His first automatic thought when I told him the tiniest disagreement I had with him, he thinks I'm trying to start a war. What a great definition of society. We build up sides, teams; so we can 'debate' or 'fight' or whatever with other teams about what we disagree on, and what our differences are. And with this, it makes me think: all of us are differnent in SOME way. NONE of us are EXACTLY the same. So we might as well just go to war with one another, one on one; why even bother making trusses, right? Wrong. Let's put aside our differences and see what we DO have in common, better yet; let's look at our differences and agree we're different but exactly the same in the fact that:


all of us have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.


Letter b. Perspectives. When I changed my angle of perspective on my dream, I got a COMPLETELY different picture. I find that in the littlest of everyday things, if I look at something from a different view or a different thinking then usual; a whole new thought is produced that I can ponder on and think about even more. Take the tree picture above the first paragraph for example. When you first saw it, did you see trees and clouds and the sun? It seemed kinda sketchy, maybe you figured it was just the reflection; but still, looking at it from this angle nature just seems more bolded. When I took this picture, I just thought it looked cool at first; but after looking at it, I asked a few of my friends if they thought it was a reflection or the actual image... the friends I asked agreed it was the actual image. How weird, when turning things in even the SLIGHTEST of an angle, you can see a whole new image; or possibly the same exact thing, but it's tricking your mind.

Is that the devil? Can he look like something beautiful but turn out to be fake? I don't like that thought at all but I think it's true in some cases.

But I mainly liked the idea of making your brain look at something, read something, or even stepping away from your typical opinion on something in a different angle or perspective; you find there's a LOT more than meets the eye. Is this with God as well? Turn our eyes a little bit; maybe stray away from our negative bitter thoughts, maybe towards the thoughts of "could there possibly be a power bigger than I or this world or universe?" or even "could there possibly be someone or something that loves me JUST the way I am, completely?" you COULD go with "could there possibly be something out there that is PERFECT?"

I thought about it tonight: you can't see the whole world at the same time, but you know the rest of the world is there, right? You can't see the wind, but you can feel it and you know it's there, right? Why couldn't this be the same with God?

"Never write about a place until you're away from it, because that gives you perspective”- Ernest Hemingway

"Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth." - Marcus Aurelius

So maybe, what we DON'T see has truth? This is not a maybe for me, I know it in my heart; but what about you?

If society, if you, if I can learn to change our, yours, my perspective and our way of automatically thinking negatively or "HE/SHE WANTS WAR" maybe we can plant true peace in us, you, me. Maybe we, you, I can actually have clear thoughts, a cleansed mind and soul; souls ringing God's constant songs of promise and love, and with our peaceful & newly cleansed minds we might be able to hear that song. It's playing on the highest volume it can be, society/you/me just decides to listen to other songs sometimes.

God, turn it all the way up. Block out whatever distractions or loud songs are in the way of yours.

Hmm, I like this song; alot :)

--Chrissy Z

"I Never Gone with the Wind, Just Let it Flow; Let it Take Me where it Wants to Go"

It's been a while, a good while :)

I've started up a journal again so that's probably why. I'm really trying to get back into writing, get into the swing of it; not that I never stopped but I need to write out my thoughts and prayers clearly again, not just 'blog' about it or write is musically (though writing it musically is probably my favorite ways of writing).

Today, I saw Avatar the Last Airbender! :) it was gooooood. But Brooke and I realized something as we pondered upon the Bendin...

you need air in all four of the elements: in water, in fire, in nature, and in air itself; to produce the element.

Like you need God in all elements of your life to produce faith, hope, love...

Yes. God is our air. We breathe Him in.

In the movie "A Walk to Remember", the movie ends with the main character (memory loss, what was his name again?) talking about how he feels his girlfriend in the end (if you haven't seen the movie, I kinda just gave away the ending. Sorry.)And it reminded me of the amazing book I read, "Orphaned Anythings: A Memoir of a Lesser Known" by Stephen Christian. He talked about feeling God in the wind towards the end of the book, so whenever the wind blew, He would feel Gods presence.

It's like this: you know the wind is there. You can't see it, but you can feel it.

That's exactly what God is.

--Chrissy Z