Pretty Little Girls In Mascara And Pearls

Pretty little girls in mascara and pearls,
What is it you fear most?

We fear the day our beauty is stripped away,
And we'll be nothing but ghosts.

Pretty little girls in mascara and pearls,
What is it you really fear most?

We fear success after trying our best
And having nothing left post.

Pretty little dames with dresses and names,
What is it that you want?

We want a white knight to put up a fight
No matter the things that daunt.

Pretty little dames with dresses and names,
What is it you honestly want?

We want a life where we're more than a wife,
To change the world, tres detente.

Pretty little ladies with lillies and daisies,
What is it that you desire?

We desire love and trust, honesty is a must
And a passion that feels like fire.

Pretty little ladies with lillies and daisies,
What is it you truly desire?

We desire change and so many better things
For this world we so admire.

Pretty little women in silk and linen
What is it that you need?

We need a man not a boy who thinks he can
Nor one whose gone to seed.

Pretty little women in silk and linen?
What is it you really need?

We need nothing for we can do anything
All by our own little deeds.

--Malialani Elizabeth Jane Danger Carrell

Sometimes I write poetry.

Put On Your Cape And We'll Save The World

You got so much love in you.

Sometimes, right after I get out of the shower, I spike my wet hair up into a mohawk and run around the house in leggings and a cape. Well, maybe not really. But it sounds like a good idea. When we were kids it didn't seem so silly as it does now.

When you’re a little kid, what you want and who you want to be? Change by the minute. First you are fighting off Dragons and then, suddenly, you are dancing in a magnificent Ballroom. No one find this odd or inappropriate, in fact, adults tend to encourage this behaviour; “The imagination is a beautiful thing,” – for kids, you mean. As you “grow up” the tolerance for the wonder of imagination is quashed quickly and effectively by school, television, and “the real world.” We were commanded to sit up and pay attention, to stop day dreaming and start taking steps towards having a “good life." You know, a job and house. Success, money, and stability will eventually equal happiness...

… But wait. When I was seven, the good life meant being outdoors from sun up till sun down with lots of forts, bruises, and tree climbing. When I was twelve I believed it to mean comfy clothes, soccer grass stains, and sleepovers, giggling until the sun rose. Then I was seventeen and the good life was anything that gave me an adrenaline rush, no rules, and no responsibility. And now, as a young adult? The good life is supposedly going to University, a job, and settling into society. Now wait a hot second, what was "good" when I was a child sounds much more appealing that what is "good" for an adult. I think I was lied to. I think "the good life" is bullshit. I think school and television prepare you for nothing and strip you of the things that were actually good. I think the real world is more imaginary than anything I thought up as a child. It's funny how our priorities shift.

What do you want, sweetheart? Disney tells you it's yours.

Everyone has a direction, everyone has goals. But, let's be honest, aren't most of us just moving in the same direction? I want to run against the traffic. Not just to be contrary, though that might be part of it, but because I don't like the direction the traffic is going. Let's get back in the fray, stop running away and start running towards. But what does that mean? I'm not really sure, I pose the question so you'll find the answers in your own life. The sun exists for everyone, but everyone sees it from a different horizon. Humor me, shake things up a bit would you?

Put on your childhood cape and we'll save the world. And I don't mean individual salvation. That is only a tiny piece of the picture, this is a montage of images. Take your shoes off and stay awhile. I'm hoping I have enough time to explain it to you, but this living room is shrinking and the clock on the wall seems random. We might lose the time at any moment. Are you doing what you find joy in because there is joy in all of these places. What if you're missing it? Do what you love, do what brings you happiness, don't settle for less than that which brings you contentment. Don't ever settle. We're not ever promised happiness, but we can seek it. We're not ever promised joy, but we can chase it. What we are promised is contentment, but that does not mean we should allow it to prohibit us from going after that which brings us happiness and joy. In fact, I'd argue the opposite. In being content, you are free to chase after all the good things in life without being inhibited. Live free, with your cape in the wind.

Peace be

And How These Hands Could Create Better Things

This is not an escape plan.

Intro To Malialani Elizabeth Jane Danger Carrell; Spontaneity 101 - Class begins whenever you say, querido. I'll teach you my ways if you let me in on yours. There is quite a bit of ground to cover.

Who are you? Your job or family or friends? Are you your beliefs or thoughts? Are you all your material possessions? Your body? Your mind, your heart, your soul? Who are you and how do you know? Are you important? And who decides?

Je pense, dunque, je suis.

My name is Malialani. It means "heavenly calm," the joke is my family is that it was wishful thinking on my parents part. I was born the 20th of April 1989 to Patricia Jean and Gerald Kehaulani Ka'ilihau in Omak Washington. I am Hawaiian, Chinese, and a smattering of European. I have two younger brothers by blood, Zachary Ka'ilihau and Alexander Kolomona - or - Zbear and Alika. My family moved to Maple Valley Washington when I was 4 and has lived there since. I spent Summers in Hawaii with family and had a pretty typical childhood climbing trees and trying to fry eggs on the concrete. I went nuts as an adolescent, there were ups and downs but mostly downs. I learned a lot about myself and what is inately important to me, but couldn't seem to make life work. Eventually, I skipped the country. I travelled the world, picking up obscure jobs, and making friends along the way. I currently attend Shepherds Bible College and am unemployed like the rest of America. I do a lot of yoga and have extensive conversations with God. I'm happy. I hang out with my friends and family and do whatever comes into my head. You might say I've found myself, but I don't. I'm a work in progress - aren't we all?

Dime, dime si te vas con ellos.

Indifference, Intolerance, and Injustice outrage me so I can have a short temper if pushed. I am eternally optimistic which drives people crazy. I speak in slurred sarcasm and laughter and a lot of people don't follow. I like to try anything once, but sometimes I don't. I think habitual use of drugs or alcohol is highly overated. I sing along with the radio loudly - and dance. I believe every human life has intrinsic worth and I'll debate it until I die. I am a follower of The Way but the only people I'll ever throw a Bible at are those who make judgements. I'm honest and loyal to a fault, but often do things without thinking. I've mastered spontaneity and making everything in life an adventure, which can be a little overwhelming. I'm a complete eclectic musically and I love most things oldschool. I speak 10 languages and I am learning my 11th because I believe in trying to understand one another on every level. I'm down to earth and I refuse to participate in drama, but that means I sometimes shirk away from conflict. Do you feel like you know me yet?

Beijos infinidades, que bom.

My favorite color is green. Favorite number is 7. I write because I my brain has too many thoughts for me to function without putting them to temporary permanence. I draw. My best friends are named Kendall and Wesley, they will both be on my side of the officiary at my wedding. I refuse to wear dresses or skirts that go past my knees. I'm a food snob. I tend to do exactly what I feel like. I read the Bible a whole lot. Actually, I just read a whole lot. My two favorite activities are playing house wife and travelling the world. I have tattoos and piercings. I apologize only when I mean it. I loathe shock value. I use humor to mask when I'm uncomfortable. I give second, third, fourth, fifth, anddd one hundreth chances which means sometimes I get walked on. I would let music consume me if I could. My favorite film is Casablanca. I like to take pictures with a film camera that is older than I am. Antique stores provide me with hours of entertainment. I tend to call any place that I feel comfortable "home." I draw all over myself and will probably die of ink poisoning at some point. Do. You. Understand. Who. I. Am. Now.

Do you feel?

Should I put a soapbox under my feet? Or mayhaps speak into a megaphone? I'll just roll up these pages I scribble on a speak to you through them. Which of these facts makes me who I am? Is it all of them? None of them? Riddle me this. Who I am and who are you? Where do we come from and what is our purpose. What are we doing and why are we doing it. Where are we headed? Our 9-5 jobs and white picket fences don't seem to be cutting it, do they? Being a rebellious little teenager doesn't give you anymore anwers than that white picket fence. So what are we doing? What is it that makes us who we are?

Mai troppo tardi.

I have green eyes, short brown hair, caramel colored skin, and a few freckles - But that doesn't tell you what I look like. I feel like there is joy hidden in all things - But that doesn't tell you how to make me happy. I've stood in 20+ countries on and 4 continents - But that doesn't tell you where I've been. I go to Church - But that doesn't tell you what I believe. I try to only do things that make me and others happy - But that doesn't tell you what I like to do or how I do it. So what is the truth? I suppose that's individual and you'll have to find out.

And this is me, saying things I actually mean.

If You Leave I Hope You Need To Come Back

You look like the songs I've heard my whole life coming true.

I WANT TO SHOUT THE THINGS THAT ARE ON MY MIND!

But I'll settle for all CAPS. Our generation, we speak in riddles. And I'm sarcastic as the best of them. There is something about our method of speech that blatently denies any former rules and adheres only to remaining scandalous and backwards. We don't function in honesty, just shock and awe. Constantly demanding the answers to life be furthered, without gaining ground ourselves.

I've got the virus and I'm coughing up truth. Choking on my own honesty, getting it out of my system. Hot tea won't do it for me. I can't get this off my tongue fast enough. My fingers won't go as quickly as my mind. Synaps snapping and running courses they know so well. It's a river in here, rain on the roof. I write as I think and so it makes sense only to those of us without a train of thought. Feel this.

If I dial your number, it means I want you next to me. I can't express my emotions via technology. There is something real about standing in front of someone, as strange as it seems. You're on my mind, sitting there above my left ear and bouncing your heels off the side of my head. If you've got something to say, shout it out!

Trust me. This is the time to breath, just in case you forget later. I shake my head when I want to say something that I won't say. I speak in other languages when I'm frustrated so you won't understand, but I do wish you would - per quel che vale. There is something in the way it breaks. Not quite right, claro que no. But I'll let you know when things change. If they ever do. Sing to me in silence. Speak me silly and show me up.

I can't give you an answer. Only more questions. There is something backwards to this noise we call speech. It's like we're trying our damnedest to not understand one another. Cosa? I'll work on that. Find me piled under grammar and punctuation. Dig me out to retrieve my body. I'm not sure reviving me will be plausible at this point. It'll be your words that bring me back. Build me up. This is just your imagination.

Joyeux. There isn't enough here to keep me. Isn't enough here to hold me. I'll never sit still, don't make me. You don't know what you're asking of me. I am different, but I am still me. There is a middle name somewhere in the midst of this. Photograph me while I'm not paying attention. You'll get a truer picture that way. I hope you leave me speechless. I can't rewind what didn't happen. Or fast forward what won't. Time doesn't exist, see? Not really. We're all just words. Words built out of dust, given breath and love to do with what we like. Tongue tied abroad. Blink.

Troppi.

I Want It With Whipped Cream On It

"Be generous: Invest in acts of charity.
Charity yields high returns

Don't hoard your goods, spread them around.
Be a blessing to others. This could be your last night.

When the clouds are full of water, it rains.
When the wind blows down a tree, it lies where it falls.
Don't sit there watching the wind. Do your own work.
Don't stare at the clouds. Get on with your life.

Just as you'll never understand
     the mystery of life forming in a pregnant woman,
So you'll never understand
     the mystery at work in all that God does.

Go to work in the morning
     and stick to it until evening without watching the clock.
You never know from moment to moment
     how your work will turn out in the end.

Oh, how sweet the light of day,
And how wonderful to live in the sunshine!
Even if you live a long time, don't take a single breath for granted.
Take delight in each light-filled hour,
Remembering that there will also be many dark days
And that most of what comes your way is smoke.

You who are young, make the most of your youth.
Relish your youthful vigor.
Follow the impulses of your heart.
If something looks good to you, pursue it.
But know also that not just anything goes,
You must answer to God for ever last bit of it.

Live footloose and fancy free -
You won't be young forever.
Youth lasts about as long as smoke."

Eccelesiastes 11, possibly my favorite chapter of the Bible. I'd like it read at my funeral in any case. Ecclesiastes falls into the category of "Wisdom Books." Written by Solomon towards the end of his life, he details his successes and shortcomings. Just passing advice down to younger generations, giving them all the knowledge he has on life so that they might live better. Most people don't particularly like Ecclesiastes, they think it's depressing. I disagree wholeheartedly and I think this passage is the perfect example of that. I don't think Solomon was being morbid or downhearted, but rather honest. Youth does last as long as smoke. One minute we are running in the streets without a care in the world, the next we are concerned with self image and friends, then we are attempting to join this world as adults, and pretty soon our lives are winding down. It's not bad or good or anything really, just truth the way Solomon saw it.

This passage pretty well sums up my life. I have the unexplicable desire to share everything I have with everyone around me. To the point where I write the word "LOVE" in red sharpie on every piece of paper money I come across so that our interaction is not merely the exchanging of funds. I want to be a part of peoples lives and for them to be a part of mine. I want everyone to know their worth and to have someone who helps them recognize it. And the clouds have gotten dark over my life, many many times. But eventually the rain comes, lightening those clouds and giving room for new life. I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I try to give my all to everything I do. And I have tried to live each day, each moment to it's fullest potential. I have tried vehemently to follow my heart at every turn and run free, wild to the rest of humanity. With some success, I believe. I have a rule I try to follow: Do anything and everything that comes to mind if it does not injure yourself or others. Sometimes I follow it well, other times I am lacking. Whether it be in following my heart or injuring myself or others. But I do my best. And yet? Youth is fleeting, we can't let it pass us by.



I'm lucky. Blessed. Graced. Favored. Granted. Whatever word you like, I am it. There was a point in my life where I slapped labels all over myself like I was a lightpost downtown. I don't anymore, but if I did? My new label would be "blessed." And it's all thanks to people like you. My walls are covered in photographs. My family, my friends, my teachers and mentors. People I love dearly, people like you. Probably you.

Thank you for being you. I hope you understand what I mean when I say that I love you whole heartedly and unabashedly. I hope you know that love is unconditional and that it is because of, not inspite of, the way you are.

Peace be,

In This, The Perfect Temporary

If you find perfect happiness, but it's temporary, what do you do with it? Do you hold tight and never let go? Well then, I suppose you turn into a bitter and nasty person who is trying to hold clouds. Do you pretend it never happened? No, because I think then you might settle for less than you deserve. Do you regret it, either because you think it'll never happen again or because you couldn't hold onto it? That can't possibly be right. So what then? What is to be done with temporary perfect happiness? They say that all joy is fleeting. Is it? Or do you accept that temporary perfection for what it is or was and then seek a different, perfect happiness? If joy is fleeting, should we not chase after it? And once we catch one joy, set it free and seek another?

When I shut my eyes and focus, it's like I can look beyond the inside of my eyelids. Through something. There are galaxies and all the Universe before my eyes. I can see the star dust of the Milky Way tracing its way across the emptiness. The dark is true dark, black and empty. Uncreated light. And the stars burn in the inbetween. Clustering together to make the most beautiful sky that could ever be imagined. I used to have nightmares, but I found my peace. And ever since, there have been stars in the darkness that comes with closed eyes.

I shut my eyes and sleep comes easily. There is some kind of haze. A fog I seem to be walking through when suddenly I'm on a cobblestone walkway across from the plaza and the sky is bluer still than any I've ever seen. The clouds float lazily about, heavy and perfectly white, perfectly outlined. As if they were drawn into the sky. The person holding my right hand is perfect in his 7 jeans and green vneck tee. I hug him tightly, feeling him against me. There is a heart beat and breath beneath his chest. I want to cry, but he lifts my head. Green eyes to rival my own. His smile is deeply etched into his face and my heart. He squeezes my hand and links my arm as we cross the street to the plaza. There are balloons of green and white, tied to each black bench and lamp post in the courtyard of the plaza. The plants are as green as crayon and the fountain sparkles in the way that water can only sparkle at high altitudes. Lillies, sunflowers, green hydrangeas. Flowers upon every balloon bouquet and petals littering the ground. The sun shines down on the scene, making it the perfect surreal.

Every face that I love and have ever loved greets me and I'm in white. The dress is short with green trim and the flowers tucked neatly into my hair make me feel a little tippy. I'm nervous and I cling to the arm of the man I need to be there. I can feel the muscles in his arm as he moves and I give quick thanks to God that I have him there with me. I'm having trouble putting one bare foot in front of the other when someone takes my left hand. He shakes dark auburn red hair out of his face and smiles at me. A black surfer tee with green letters and white board shorts. I touch the side of his face, I needed him here with me. I can feel the stubble on his chin and I close my eyes. He takes my other arm and we three continue towards the center of the plaza. There is a tear on my cheek. I've needed them here, walking beside me.

Someone has a llama and it's normal rainbow incan vest is replaced by an emerald one. There are a little blonde girl and young boy holding it still with their parents beside them. I laugh. All my favorite men are grinning broadly at me and the shortest gives me a thumbs up which makes me laugh again. My childhood friends in pretty summer dresses, light. We always knew I'd be the last. There are little kids running about in and out of the crowd, but no one seems to mind. Cousins, nieces, nephews, the triplets, children of my dearest friends. Each relative and friend beaming at me more than the next. My grandparents are laughing, even my grandpa Chris. My grandma Nona laughs as a child passes her. She smiles at me from the front of the crowd and says "You're so beautiful, baby." I kiss her on both cheeks and I take a deep breath of her. Soaking up every second I have. My Godparents are standing with my mother, holding her shoulders and her hand. They are all so proud of me. As I turn, there are faces I don't recognize but they are joyful and so I return their smiles. Everyone is so brightly dressed., radiant. I take a picture with my mind. I never want to forget this day.

At the edge of the fountain in the center of the plaza is someone I can't place. My brothers are standing just left. Z in slacks and a black tee shirt. A in light jeans and a black, white, and green plaid woven. He makes a face at me which makes me laugh again. The man beside them is not wearing a tux but is barefoot in dark jeans and a white woven with a vest. I never thought about it before, but I like that he's not wearing a tux. My daddy and Uncles are playing guitars and ukeleles, my cousin singing. Cinderella, Butterfly Kisses, Hawaiian music. There is a beautiful girl in a shade of green that matches her eyes to the right. She looks like a princess and smiles at me with a bunch of flowers gathered up in her hands. There's a tall dark man in black slacks and a white woven with a green scarf next to her. A kiss on each cheek and my hands are left free as one man goes to my right and the other to my left. I'm afraid to let them go, but their looks reassure my fast beating heart.

I smile at a man holding a beaten and overbook marked bible. I am holding the hands of the man in front of me and he mouths that he loves me. I have a strong feeling that I love him too and I blush. I search his face, trying to determine descriptive words for what he looks like, but I can't find any. I see him, but I can't seem to see anything physical. Just goodness, he is good. There are beautiful words being poured out and forming a new reality. Three beautiful little boys hand us each of the rings, they are intricate yet simple. And I am surprised at how fast my heart is racing. I can already see our life together. No permanent home, but hundreds of perfect temporaries all over the world as we are called to them. Heated arguments solved by long talks under cool stars. Lazy afternoons with books and a record player, fast days of museum hopping and old school photoshoots. Friends, family, and holidays. Broke, exhausted, and content. Awkward moments and laughter. Beautiful children, a dog, a sloth, and full passports.

We kiss and it's like the first time. There are no butterflies, but rather a settled feeling. As if it could go on forever, but I laugh through the kiss as the hollering begins. Flower petals are in the air and I close my eyes for a moment, just soaking up the joyful noise of it all. I smile at my grandmother and then at the two men who walked me to this fountain. Part of me wants to run to them, to hold them and feel them around me. But instead I squeeze the hand of the man without a tux. He is my future, they are my past. My wonderful, beautiful past. I know that I cannot keep them. They are only here in this, the perfect temporary.

I close my eyes and open them to dim fairylights and a predawn sky. I stretch beneath my heavy winter blankets and close my eyes to see them again, drifting from my dreams back to my memories. It isn't painful to watch them go. They will be with me again, as they are with me always. I reach out, waving farwell, wishing them a safe journey back to wherever they are. My eyes open and I lie looking at my ceiling, listening to the music of my alarm. I remember the man without a tuxedo and I smile, wondering if he dreams of me too. In his own perfect temporary...

**October 13th 2012
Reading this now, I am astonished at how well I pictured my future life and future husband. The wedding was always an impossibility, but my image of my future is now a beautiful reality. This dream was one of intense joy and overwhelming sorrow, even now. But I am glad to have been so sure that these things would come to me, and they have.

Load It, Cock It, And Pull It

I wrote this awhile back rather... but I have no desire to write currently so here it is, dearling.



I have the desire to brush my teeth, but also the desire to drink large quantities of orange juice. These things do not coincide well...

Why do I believe in God.

It's the loaded question you've all been waiting for. I do believe that this blog calls for bullets ((the paragraphical kind, not the ammunition related kind)), so as there is no confusion. I'll go ahead and start with this sentiment; You don't have to believe the things that I do, but I do ask that you respect my opinions. I have seen a lot of this world, experienced a plethera of things, and have come to my own conclusions. I have not always believed the things I believe now and have come to my level of theology of my own searching, discovery, interpretation, and understanding. I ask not that you concur with every statement made, disagreement is nothing but encourage in this arena. But I do request that you respect my beliefs as I would respect any statement of faith you made. I do not say these things lightly and great thought has gone into them, so take as much thought if or when you respond. I will throw it out there that these are not complete arguments because, honestly? Each paragraph could be an entire essay complete with quotes and bibliography. But I'm reaching for simple here, Kidds, so stay with me.

Firstly and foremost, I believe in God because I believe humans have intrinsic worth. I believe that at our cores, we are valuable. I believe that each of us have purpose. That we all have our part to play in this life, in this world. To not believe in a god or creator would be to believe that humanity is random chance. And if we are merely random chance? We have no self value or purpose. Leading into...

Secondly, without purpose and worth? There is no morality. If no god exists, then human "morality" can be determined on an individual level and "evil" does not exist. When someone commits mass genocide or rapes and kills children, there is no responsibility because there is no morality. They do it because they feel that it is right.

[Sidenote: It can be noted that often throughout history, various sides committing atrocious crimes have claimed to have a god on their side. I want to make it very clear that I am not condoning this. Anyone can attempt to justify their actions by throwing the word "god" in the mix. This does not mean that any god had anything to do with their actions.]

Thirdly, without a creator or intelligent design? We are alive for no purpose but to complete the circle of life and end up as lunch for Simba. But if we are alive for no purpose, why are we aware we are alive at all? How could be possibly be aware of ourselves and not have purpose?

Those are the top three reasons I believe in God. So then, the logical next question is: Why the god of Christianity? Hmm, well you could argue that it is the god I grew up with. But I've researched Religion and travelled extensively, so perhaps not. You could argue it's because I'm an American and a large percentage of Americans believe in some form of god. Except, I've never identified as an American but rather as a Native Hawaiian, a nation which was basically gang raped by the United States and only legally made a part of the USA after the guilt trip of Pearl Harbor. A nation with a rich pagan mythology, so again - perhaps not. Then maybe it's because my parents believe in the Christian God? I rebelled against my parents from ages 12 to 20 and then proceeded to travel the world, so they never really had a whole lot of say in my belief system. Perhaps. Not. Try again...

Why the God of Christianity?

Because the Bible was written over the course of 1500 years by hundreds of different authors who all believed in the same things.

Because Jesus fufilled over 300 prophecies and is the only historical figure to appear in more than one Holy Book.

Because the Bible contextually and historically makes sense. Especially if you consider that it is only part of all that has been written and while it is the Word of God, it was written by man.

Because the Jesus kidd preached Love rather than judgement and that is the kind of thing I can get behind.

Because ((originally)) Followers of The Way were persecuted for doing things like loving on their neighbors and hanging out with the poor and being peaceful people.

Because it isn't about just living to die or even about living to go to Heaven.

Because through God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit and the Bible I can see purpose and worth and reason for humanity like I only glimpse in other belief systems. And those 3 things are the reason I believe in a higher power at all.

It's not simple, it's complicated. God is very complicated. As he should be. We try to make Him comprehensible and we can't. It just isn't going to happen. We will never fully understand the mysteries of God and the Universe, and even if we could? Seriously, how fucking boring would life be? And, of course, there are all the arguments... You can argue "If there was God, why does He let bad things happen?" But I think I should ask yourself why you and I let them happen before you ask God. And then there is the whole Bible ((specifically the Old Testament)) being violent etc etc, for which I have a one word answer: Context. For further information, please seek a coffee date with your faithful blogger friend Malia. Because that is a whole other slur of blogs. Then there are the one liners like how God hates gays and abortion and women. Dude, shut the front door with that. CONTEXT. I swear if I get any one liner responses from all you intelligent folk who read my blog? I will personally slap you across your impertenant little face with a Holy Bible and Jesus will laugh at you from his cloud. True story.

The truth of the matter is, this is just what I believe. But you know what? Even if you disagree, even if you believe something totally different than me? I'll still love you. Because my beliefs allow for that. And I am just that annoying.

Peace Be.

Heaven Is Coming Down

We are, not there yet.

As of yesterday, it is entirely possible that my best friend is the best person I know. Which just furthers my point, God does not use perfect people to do good things. To do great things. He uses the misfits, the fuckups for Christ ((I say that in the most loving way possible, she is my best friend, afterall)). My best friend has been through, experienced some of the worst this world has to offer. She has struggled and collapsed and gotten up again. Sometimes worse for the wear, but this time better for it. And now? I'm jealous of what a good person she is. Jealous of her opportunities and the love she is sharing with the rest of the world. Way to call me out, bessfrienn. I won't give you all the details, it's her story to share and I wouldn't do it justice. But it has decided to make me do featurettes. I'm going to feature friends and family writing in this little blog of mine. And my best friend, is up first.

Before I begin my next paragraph, I realize I must make a distinction. I can't call myself a Christian. Not because I don't believe Christ was the Son of God ((that is a debate for another time, my loves)). But rather due to the fact that I'm not a "little Christ." Original, and arguably the best, followers of Jesus never called themselves Christians but Followers of The Way. I would love to be a little Christ, an imitation of the Son of God, but I'm not. I am a mere Follower of His Way, I cannot attest to being anything more than that. That would make me a liar and, as we all know, liars go straight to Hell ((but, of course, so do those who judge others. So if you just condemned me for being a liar? You're screwed too)). Moving along...

A very popular Christian belief is that we must spread salvation to the rest of the world. That we must cleanse it of it's paganistic ways and hand life jackets out to all those on the sinking ship we call Humanity. That life vest appears, obviously, in the form of a Bible with a rather guilting Jesus nailed to the cross pictured in detail on the cover. You know, railway nails through his wrists, blood dripping, and a cry of anguish on his lips? Now, don't get me wrong. Jesus definitely died for your sins and you definitely didn't deserve it, you little heathen. But, uhm, isn't that jumping to conclusions a little fast? What was this "Good News" Jesus wanted us to spread anyway? Was it truthfully that he died on a cross for all of us delinquents? Because I seem to recall Jesus spreading the Gospel, the Good News... wait for it... BEFORE he was dead.

I know, scandalous.

So, Good News... something about the poor and the broken, something about the sick and disabled, something about the depraved and the hurting? It's about love, not life vests. We were saved by grace, but commissioned to go out into the world and spread love.

"Dear friends, do you think you'll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it? For instance, you come upon an old friend dressed in rags and half-starved and say, "Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!" and walk off without providing so much as a coat or a cup of soup - where does that get you? Isn't it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?"

James also goes on to affirm that works without faith is also hot air, but the point is that they go hand in hand. You cannot throw people a life vest of words and salvation without first showing them the love that you have already and undeservingly recieved. I am tired of "saving people" being the main goal, when it was never one of the goals at all. Jesus saves - you? Do not. That is too big of a responsibility for you or me or any of us to handle. We cannot be each others saviors, we will drown that way. What we can do is love one another. We can show grace and love to all those whose paths cross ours and perhaps have the opportunity to share our beliefs, but the actual saving will never come from us. So you, little Christs, live better. Because Jesus didn't walk around demanding people claim His God as theirs, he just healed them and sent them on their way. He loved them and left them to decide on their own what was real for them. Do not claim to be capable of anything more, because you would be wrong and most certainly not an imitator of Christ.

I lecture not to those who do not believe as I do, because my God does not lecture to those who do not believe. For you, I can only hope and pray that you find the same love and peace that I have found in an unconditional and unchanging God. I can tell you what I believe and why, I can argue logistics, I can disagree with you and you with me. But I lecture to those who claim to walk the path of Christ, because Jesus lectured to them. It is upsetting to me that the whole "Turn or Burn" has become so very popular in our Nation of bubblegum belief when in reality? The only people Jesus ever said that to, were religious scholars. Ouch...

This is a lot of ((incomplete)) theology, sorry about that. Feel free to bounce it off me in email or cellphone or person. ESPECIALLY IF YOU DISAGREE. Because, damnit, I need some good challenges. I joke you not, Kidds, I am going to school to become some kind of pastor. You're all terrified, I know ((who wants to make bets that I will say "douchebag" the first time I'm in front of a crowd?)). And truthfully, I am not really sure about this path. But I do know that I am tired of uptight douchebags getting all the say on Sunday mornings without a real rebuttal in the rest of the world. If you delve into the "Christian world," you see a lot of arguments on both side, but not in the everyday world. It's kind of like how you only ever hear about Muslim terrorists and so you assume all Muslims are terrorists ((ps, they aren't. And if you legitimately thought/think that, you need a serious reality check)), most people only ever hear about Christian assholes and so they assume all Christians are assholes. Well, I'm refutting the name Christian and I am claiming El Bible as Truth and seeing what the world does with me. We'll see, I suppose...

Peace be, kidds.

Just + Hope

Danger, High Voltage Human. My beanie is inside out and my peacoat is cooler than Mister James Dean himself. Don't save me. This one is an adventurer, not a damsel. I'll whisper a secret in your hair, but you'll have no idea what I mean. That's alright, dahling, I'll say it again tomorrow. I'll say it again tomorrow. Paint with brushes that belonged to a real artist and photograph real life. No editing. Your photoshop means nothing to me and I do not understand the word digital. Is morality individual? No, I don't think so. But I don't have the right to judge you if you believe differently, though I might tell you I think you're wrong. Don't speak of that which you don't understand, but how am I to understand if I never speak of it? Do you knot no me? God is moving in your bloodstream, where the cross beats aren't so slow.

Don't tell me "No" when you didn't hear the question. I've gone further towards the end of the world than you'll ever voyage. I've seen the inky black of darkness and I've witnessed unadulterated light. It's more painful than you'd think. More wonderful than you could imagine. Don't lecture me on suffering when the word comes from a language that has never graced your lips, your ears, your heart. There is something that beats within me. Boom. Boom. Pause for a moment and begin again. And what if I were to spell it with an E? Would you still believe these words I have written? Flat and tied, the grass burns easiest when it's dry. I'll play you on repeat until I'm tired and then I will drift silently into rem. Not a word on my lips in a language you know. Je ne parle pour toi. Parlo per qualcosa pui. No creo como tu. But believe me by my actions. I just want to love on people. I am wonderfully and fearfully made. I will not waste that. This life is not about getting to someplace better. But making this place better. Heaven will descend upon us and all will be right. We must work to paint the walls of this sinking ship because, in the end, your life vest isn't enough.

I'll pack a lunch and run for days. I'll see the other end of this universe and no corner of the world will be unknown to me. Not because I believe I have all the answers, but because I know that I do not. It is above, it is beyond me. Just look at the stars! How could you ever believe that you were random chance? Science merely shows me what a wonderful design we were all given. At a cellular level we are just artwork. We were created to create. To worship by putting things back together. To make this world a better place. I'll dance for no reason and I will appreciate each star. We gave them all names, by the grace of God. And the more I learn of the Universe, the more I believe without a doubt at all. To be random would be to be without purpose, to be without function. To merely exist without ever living. Life would mean nothing and morality would not exist. But you are aware, are you not?

Violent sketch upon empty page. Soup of nothing into which there is now Word. I don't know what it means, but I'm pretty sure it's everything. Books, the written word, they remind me of hope. Whether by illustration of what life is, or what it is not. I have great hope in who we are at our cores. Spin me in circles on this merry-go-round until I fall into sweet abyss of wonder. I am full and I could take on more. The cup will overflow and I will be grateful, though perhaps not always. We face a starvation here that will not be quenched by food or drink or knowledge. Break my heart for what breaks your. Imua, imua, imua. I will never stop moving. I'm too much to handle, not enough to suffice, but there is one who loves me and never stops. There is nothing I could ever do to break the bond of unconditional. Have you heard the word? Can you hear the word? Do you know the word?

Iorana. Welcome to existence. I'll break it down via mandolin. Piano strikes a string and you'll hear it softly beneath the surface of your subconscious. I know this thorn well, I pulled it from my vein not but an hour ago. Time does not exist in this, the realm of Truth. Love is only one thing, it may reveal itself in a way you would never expect. Break break break down. Where have you been all this time? The shore makes me look small and my feet are in the sand. Wash over me and teach me something new. I can't promise I'll remember, but you'll probably make a mark. Coral under my toes, salt on my skin, wind whipping steadily by. I'll keep you here in my pocket, I promise. But that's not what you asked of me, is it? I'm not sure. I can't seem to want to remember. Isn't that what it means, can't you tell me what it all means? There it is. Love love love. Repeat. Love love love. Repeat. I won't stop, can't stop. Breathe heartbreak, exhale hope. Drink down the problems of this world and sigh out your wonder, amazement, and joy. I won't stop, can't stop. Shake me head and demand more. Not of you, of me! What might I do to to better bring you joy? "And what you did for the least of these, you did for me" you say again. I know, I have always known.

Like The P In Philosophy

And so twothousandeleven begins. One year, one word. New endings, new beginnings. There is a lot I could say about the year that has passed. All the things, places, people I miss - or perhaps don't. It appears my favorite Dr Seuss book has been truer to my life than anything else. And Oh! The Places I've Been. There is magic in the things you don't expect. It captures and enraptures you. Wrapping you in... well, find your own magic. And yes, I believe in magic. It might not be your typical black swamp voodoo, but I believe in the kind of magic we create in ourselves, through our actions, by ((wait for the scandal)) God. I can already hear the sacrelige calls, Jesus ain't magic! Dude, Jesus was totally magic. Divine is just another word for magical. But not all magic is divine, kind of like squares and rectangles...

And The CH In Psychology

My paternal grandmother passed away this fall ((in case you don't know what paternal grandmother means, it means she was my fathers mother)). I have the memorial service pamphlet in the mirror on my wall. It's weird to lose a grandparent. Especially when they have always lived far away. Because sometimes it can feel like they are just not around and then the pain of losing them becomes a reality once more and you would rather not get out of bed. It's one sick rollercoaster. I find I miss her more and more as time goes on, rather than less. If you know me and you've heard me talk about my grandmother, I have probably used a single consistent word to describe her: Bitch. Wild, rampant, absolute bitch. And oddly, I mean that in the most respectful way. The woman took crap from no man, woman, or child. She was the most hard working, devoted woman I have ever met. Her happiness never came before anyone elses and she loved fiercely. She always supported me and my craziness. Telling me I would work it out in the end and if I couldn't figure it out? There was no hope for the rest of humanity because I was the smartest girl that ever did live. She was so proud of me. It radiated from her. When I graduated High School, I had double the amount of credits needed and I mentioned it to my grandmother while she was on my living room floor, making me lei's for graduation, and the look on her face wasn't the typical shock but rather reassurance. "Of course you do, baby, you're probably the smartest girl at the public school, certainly the prettiest." That was my granma, no crap, just truth. I get that from her. I'm the only one of her grankids to ever tell her she was being stupid. I threw away her cigarettes when I was there for a Summer and told her she'd have to stop if she wanted to live long enough to see any of us do anything. Two years later she was in the hospital. We thought that was the end of the road. My daddy played the guitar and I sang in the ICU, totally not allowed but they made an exception. I'm the first thing she remembered. My voice, me holding her hand. I had never seen her take a sick day in her life before that. She was at my cousins wedding a month later, at my graduation half a year later, and lived 4 more years.

Like The Truth In Theology

I'm only who I am because of where I've been. Despite the dark that lies therein, light shines through to where I stand. I could never cover up or pretend that the past did not exist. I'm better for it, love and freedom in one resounding echo across everything that I am. Never stop, never stop, never stop.

Peace.