i went with a friend tonight to a church attended primarily by twenty-somethings. oh man, i’ve been looking for the right place and finally i feel like i found it. everyone was so stoked on honest & raw biblical teaching and it showed and oh my word it was so fuggin sweet.
They will call you naive and overzealous, and you must reply, “I am merely bold and adventurous, much like the baby bird who leaps from the cliff despite the absurdity inherent in the thought of flight to one whom has only known land.” They will deem you arrogant, and you must insist, “My confidence stems from a deep sense of self, the likes of which I can only hope you will discover within your own heart.” They will swear you are mad, and you must shout for all to hear, “While your own may be sadly crippled by self-doubt and fear, my madness is miraculous and knows no limits.” Be not afraid of what they will think, say, or do, but instead of what you may be allowing them to take away from you.
it was late into the night and you told me to go go sleep sleep if i needed to. i drifted off into my own little world of sheets and half-lucid dreams. when i was still for quite a while, you rolled over and said “i love you.” those words awoke me and i smiled, about to say something in return until you added “i will always love you.”
I only need the safety that exists when your arms are around me, combined with the silence that says more than your words do. I only want long looks and trails of your script on my arms, mirrored thoughts and warm hands, reminders of everything that was almost lost and hearts that can’t keep quiet no matter how much we hush them. I’m never going to look at you the same, I’m never going to see nights like these, stars like those, without seeing you, and I like it that way. I like you this way.
… I am the woman at the well and the prostitute with the accusers holding rocks chasing behind me and I’m laying at your feet wishing you’d crush me. Instead, Jesus you’re bleeding and zipping the zipper of a wedding dress up my back and calling me your bride. Tying up my combat boots underneath telling me they’re steel-toed, hand crafted for my feet, meant to be worn by me. You knew all along.
I am so excited to see what tattoo you got. Can you tell your followers what you got and where did you put it? Rate the pain because I am thinking of getting on in the shoulder/chest area but not sure where exactly.
realllllly someone’s as excited as i am?? haha sweet.
i got “I will sigh and with all creation groan as I wait for Hope to come for me" down the length of my spine. it was pretty painful to be honest, but not as much as i thought it would be. people were telling me the spine would be brutal, and it was (think of someone carving out your skin), but not nearly as bad as i thought. so i guess if i were to have to rate it, 10 being unbearable… 8?
it also only took about 35 minutes, so that was pretty sweet too.
i really enjoy your blog! :) where are you from? and do you like it there? most people hate where they live and this was the best question i could think of haha.
ahaha that’s not a common question so good on you for being original! first thing’s first though, honestly thank you for saying that. it makes me really happy to know that there are people out there who do enjoy this stuff.
i’m from ottawa, in canada. it’s definitely a good place to live that’s for sure. i decided a long time ago though that when i’m older i won’t live here. i feel like i’d move out to somewhere in british columbia or seattle or new zealand… i just cannnoooootttt do canadian winters, for the life of me i can’t. i’m born and raised here but it seems my body is meant for somewhere else. all in all though i do like ottawa, it’s a good place to call home.
But the new rebel is a skeptic, and will not entirely trust anything. He has no loyalty; therefore he can never be really a revolutionist. And the fact that he doubts everything really gets in his way when he wants to denounce anything. For all denunciation implies a moral doctrine of some kind; and the modern revolutionist doubts not only the institution he denounces, but the doctrine by which he denounces it. Thus he writes one book complaining that imperial oppression insults the purity of women, and then he writes another book in which he insults it himself. He curses the Sultan because Christian girls lose their virginity, and then curses Mrs. Grundy because they keep it. As a politician, he will cry out that war is a waste of life, and then, as a philosopher, that all life is waste of time. A Russian pessimist will denounce a policeman for killing a peasant, and then prove by the highest philosophical principles that the peasant ought to have killed himself. A man denounces marriage as a lie, and then denounces aristocratic profligates for treating it as a lie. He calls a flag a bauble, and then blames the oppressors of Poland or Ireland because they take away that bauble. The man of this school goes first to a political meeting, where he complains that savages are treated as if they were beasts; then he takes his hat and umbrella and goes on to a scientific meeting, where he proves that they practically are beasts. In short, the modern revolutionist, being an infinite skeptic, is always engaged in undermining his own mines. In his book on politics he attacks men for trampling on morality; in his book on ethics he attacks morality for trampling on men. Therefore the modern man in revolt has become practically useless for all purposes of revolt. By rebelling against everything he has lost his right to rebel against anything.