Saints and Sinners
I am bored and in need of physical contact. Everyone is trying to talk me into seeing Hakim but seriously what’s the point? I’m coming back to Central in like two days. He’s only in Charlotte by way of New York so why bother?
Still he was cute and for some reason didn’t think I was too insane or unattractive to bother talking to. I’m not sure what the hell is wrong with him that he would find me interesting-maybe I have finally found someone more mentally unstable than me on earth. Maybe it’s simply that the thinks there’s safety in numbers?
I talked to Sh-Quaila for a long time yesterday about it. For some hours, actually. She told me all the things Jessica keeps saying, you’re a good person and deserve a good person. I guess this coming from someone who isn’t my best friend or mother makes it different. See you know your mom is always going to have your back and try to encourage you and to avoid crushing your psychologically your friends are never going to say, “Yeah you’re pretty fucked up,” but the fact a non-family member who hasn’t been trying to assassinate me for a few years says that a guy might like me just to like me makes it seem more plausible.
What we really talked about was my fear of rejection. It really is easier just not to date than to be too scared a guy wouldn’t want me. I don’t necessarily want to step out of my comfort zone when it comes to dating. I mean it’s pretty nice in here. It’s very… comfortable… which it should be. But Sh-Quaila said at some point I need to stop being a grouchy life guard and get in the damned pool. I suppose it’s a, “Shit or get off the toilet” thing lol.
Anyway, I went to Wendy’s for my check and to see Hakim. Of course he wasn’t there. I didn’t expect him to be but I didn’t want to go anyway because my hair was messed up and I didn’t want him to see me in such a compromised position, though he’s only seen me in a beat up maroon polo and the same pair of Bongo black jeans for a solid month lol. I’m so ridiculous sometimes but I suppose that’s what gives me flavor.
I think that I lack passion because I’m not daring. I’m too practical, cautious, afraid. I guess I’ve been conditioned to think my only protection from pain is isolation. I mean I don’t even visit people on the hall because I’m afraid I won’t have anything to say. When I know in my heart that if they knew me as the person my friends know me they’d love me and yet I can’t even open my mouth or crack a smile.
It’s something I definitely have to work on-being more open to people. I also have to learn how to let shit go and tell the truth. I have a system where I don’t lie to people and don’t tell them anything at all, either. I’m very clever with wording. It’s a horrible gift. In fact this whole post right here is really saying a lot more than is written on the page. At some point I guess I’ll be honest with people about things but for now I don’t see why I can’t hide in the shadows.
Today I was talking to a guy I post with. He was going on and on about the perfection of heaven. How can heaven be perfect? How can anything be perfect? I guess it’s a hard thing for me to visualize. That there is anything but the pain that I am enduring now. I mean all life is pain. So death is happiness? Unless it’s not? Who the hell made up these rules? Why live in the first place? Why not take out the middle step and go straight to heaven? It’s silly to me that people could go to hell for not saying enough Hail Mary’s or for not singing hard enough in church. Why is hell even necessary?
I wish I had a boyfriend… anyone… to be with. Someone I could really love and trust. I want my day to change completely when I see them. I want to be that bird on the branch that has learned all the songs birds have been singing for the last two thousand years and when I see him walk by I want a jazz rift to break out that no could duplicate or recreate. I want the sun to set behind his head and the clouds to flutter like my stomach when he puts his arm around me. His hair would be dark, eyes smoldering with a thousand thoughts that burn and rekindle with the flutter of his lashes. And he’d smile so mysteriously-poised, refined would be his nature yet his laugh would come with ease and murmurs of love would pour from his mouth and into everything he attempted, touched, did.
And I could love him completely because he was honest and fair. Because he didn’t lie or hide things from me. Of course he could have his secrets but his love for me would not be among them.
I suppose that sort of stuff only happens in storybooks to bleached children with blonde hair. But I want that for me. He wouldn’t have to be someone spectacular to look at. He wouldn’t have to be terribly athletic or a superhero. He’d just have to say yes and be a person I could be proud of.
So if you ask me what heaven is, heaven is love and love seems to be unattainable.
Pronouns are the bane of my existence. For now.
Moving on. I don’t have any back to school clothes. I’m so screwed. I want to look nice when I go back to school but… it just seems like it’s not going to happen for me *again*. I need at least seven pairs of solid good-fitting jeans and do I have any? I think I may have two pairs of jeans. I need to go to Good Will so I can get some clothes. I was hoping for once I might actually be well dressed like most of the other kids but I suppose I’ll look like I live in the brink of poverty for the rest of my life. Sometimes I imagine that losing weight would improve my looks-and I don’t doubt that it would-but even then I would still be swaddled in clothes that do nothing to project the sort of person I am on the inside. Of course everything I wear doesn’t have to be completely sophisticated-I surely am not-but it could at least show some semblance of being clean, well cared for, and pulled together.
I think I have an obsessive nature. I just think about something and then I can’t get it out of my head. My obsessions as of late: Hakim, The Nasty Surprise that is Hell, and Kari Claudia.
First of all the first seven-eights of this post was mainly inspired by Hakim aka the main muse of my heartache and melodramatic confusion. The second one is the fact that I don’t see Heaven in my future just like I don’t see Michael Jackson having any black children. Finally, I don’t see why Kari Claudia is in my life but she’s there.
Kari Claudia used to get into some stuff. It's well documented here but it's probably hard to find most of it... anyway, she's decided to turn her life around and become an out and out Christian. That's great for her but I doubt that such a revelation will happen to me. I mean I would have to assume that all this illogical stuff is true and that praying (looking up at the ceiling, asking for things, then curling into the fetal position until life stops beating my ass) would change things in my life. You know, have faith.
I guess I don't want to get dooped. I mean I'm going to miss out on the fun things in life by being good. I'm already missing out on most of life now by being so damned careful. So I won't be able to curse, or do what I want when I want, or get angry. I'm not patient, I'm not nice, and I don't see why God would care about us individually. What's the point when there are so many of us? I don't want to sound more pessimistic than I am--certainly to God we are few and if he wanted to he could fix all of our lives, but he doesn't and that confuses me.
Anyway, she’s decided to save my soul, or at least talk to me about a search and rescue mission. The thing is that I haven’t done anything wrong, exactly. I’m still as pure as the virgin snow lol. I’ve never gotten drunk or done anything outlandish. I’m basically just wasting my youth-and yet I know that this isn’t enough to get into heaven because I’m not “pure” for the Lord but just by happenstance and indecision. I also know that I’m not going to heaven because it just doesn’t seem logical.
I guess I want to go up against the system and in so doing I have decided to do nothing good in my life and nothing bad and just see how I get sorted in the end. Which will probably be hell because there’s probably plenty of room down there. I also don’t think that it’s possible to go to heaven-I mean you have to be perfect and do nothing wrong and if you, in fact, have done something wrong then you have to be sorry for it.
But who decides what’s right and wrong? God. But what if you felt the thing you did wrong was for a good reason? I mean is it possible for good to come from evil? No you say. So why do evil things happen to good people? To strengthen them? Then good does come from evil. If good, in fact, can not come from evil then those bad things happen to them for no reason and they don’t get stronger or only get stronger for another reason.
I think bad has to come from good. This world is imperfect. If the ideology of Christianity is to reign-that there is any merit in giving humans the option of eternal happiness and DAMNATION and then making the rules for happiness so difficult and trying because there is goodness in the unpleasantness then you must believe that good comes from evil. When a hurricane (something that can only be controlled by God) tears down a village of 500 people and leaves 100 behind then those 100 are charged with re-building the city. Though their friends have died (evil) they have the ability to remake the city better and have a greater opportunity for jobs and happiness (good).
If you think that there is good in that scenario, fine, but I think the step of the hurricane (life) is gruesome and unneeded. Say the 100 were so depressed that they didn’t do anything to make their lives better and just sat around in their despair then they inherit hell and those who do something inherit heaven… I guess I’m the one not despairing or moving a brick at the same time…
I guess it seems like I’m trying to be a martyr. I wouldn’t be the first one-many people have died for religious reasons-but I am a whack ass martyr with no agenda and no real cause. I wish I were useful for something.
I’ve been reading about saints. They say everyone has a patron saint based on their name. That’s stupid. Who bases a saint on a name? What if your name is Aboookooeiq or something? Do you not have a saint? The closest one I found was Joyce for Joslyn… It said the Latin meant happy and light hearted-which is a meaning for my name so I went with it. The patron saint for this name is Felicity. Her seven sons were killed in front of her. Seven sons, the sword, and a woman represent her. She was a rich widow that was mauled by beasts then beheaded. Before she died she kissed another martyr named Perpetua (cool name, by the way) as they “delighted in the spiritual ecstasy” of dying for the Lord.
I hope I get to snog someone for Jesus at some point in my life.
So yeah, my patron saint is Felicity.
I decided that I wanted my saint to be black. I realized there were no black female saints. I guess I’m out of the running to personally do it but there were two black saints that interested me. Martin and Benedict. Benedict was a gifted doctor Martin was a humble, wonderful guy. The prayer to Martin goes like this:
Prayer to Saint Martin de Porres
To you Saint Martin de Porres we prayerfully lift up our hearts filled with serene confidence and devotion. Mindful of your unbounded and helpful charity to all levels of society and also of your meekness and humility of heart, we offer our petitions to you. Pour out upon our families the precious gifts of your solicitous and generous intercession; show to the people of every race and every color the paths of unity and of justice; implore from our Father in heaven the coming of his kingdom, so that through mutual benevolence in God men may increase the fruits of grace and merit the rewards of eternal life. Amen.
Martin, Benedict, and Peter seem like cool cats. I think I like them. Tomorrow I’m starting a project with my grandma. I had an idea of taking a confederate flag and making the blue X green and making the white stars black. It would be red-green-black the colors of the African flag. On the bottom it would say “Emancipated” or what Ryan came up w/ “From Slave to Owner.” I don’t think I’ll use the latter, he said he had it copyrighted and I don’t like to bite people’s style so I’ll come up with another statement that shows that Dixie can kiss my ass.
That will hang in my room. I’m working on curtain treatments for my dorm… I got a curtain panel but I fear it won’t be wide enough-it better be. Jessica got me a duck poster for my birthday. I had a squee-gasm.
Bedtime and/or more Sh-Quaila talking.
Still he was cute and for some reason didn’t think I was too insane or unattractive to bother talking to. I’m not sure what the hell is wrong with him that he would find me interesting-maybe I have finally found someone more mentally unstable than me on earth. Maybe it’s simply that the thinks there’s safety in numbers?
I talked to Sh-Quaila for a long time yesterday about it. For some hours, actually. She told me all the things Jessica keeps saying, you’re a good person and deserve a good person. I guess this coming from someone who isn’t my best friend or mother makes it different. See you know your mom is always going to have your back and try to encourage you and to avoid crushing your psychologically your friends are never going to say, “Yeah you’re pretty fucked up,” but the fact a non-family member who hasn’t been trying to assassinate me for a few years says that a guy might like me just to like me makes it seem more plausible.
What we really talked about was my fear of rejection. It really is easier just not to date than to be too scared a guy wouldn’t want me. I don’t necessarily want to step out of my comfort zone when it comes to dating. I mean it’s pretty nice in here. It’s very… comfortable… which it should be. But Sh-Quaila said at some point I need to stop being a grouchy life guard and get in the damned pool. I suppose it’s a, “Shit or get off the toilet” thing lol.
Anyway, I went to Wendy’s for my check and to see Hakim. Of course he wasn’t there. I didn’t expect him to be but I didn’t want to go anyway because my hair was messed up and I didn’t want him to see me in such a compromised position, though he’s only seen me in a beat up maroon polo and the same pair of Bongo black jeans for a solid month lol. I’m so ridiculous sometimes but I suppose that’s what gives me flavor.
I think that I lack passion because I’m not daring. I’m too practical, cautious, afraid. I guess I’ve been conditioned to think my only protection from pain is isolation. I mean I don’t even visit people on the hall because I’m afraid I won’t have anything to say. When I know in my heart that if they knew me as the person my friends know me they’d love me and yet I can’t even open my mouth or crack a smile.
It’s something I definitely have to work on-being more open to people. I also have to learn how to let shit go and tell the truth. I have a system where I don’t lie to people and don’t tell them anything at all, either. I’m very clever with wording. It’s a horrible gift. In fact this whole post right here is really saying a lot more than is written on the page. At some point I guess I’ll be honest with people about things but for now I don’t see why I can’t hide in the shadows.
Today I was talking to a guy I post with. He was going on and on about the perfection of heaven. How can heaven be perfect? How can anything be perfect? I guess it’s a hard thing for me to visualize. That there is anything but the pain that I am enduring now. I mean all life is pain. So death is happiness? Unless it’s not? Who the hell made up these rules? Why live in the first place? Why not take out the middle step and go straight to heaven? It’s silly to me that people could go to hell for not saying enough Hail Mary’s or for not singing hard enough in church. Why is hell even necessary?
I wish I had a boyfriend… anyone… to be with. Someone I could really love and trust. I want my day to change completely when I see them. I want to be that bird on the branch that has learned all the songs birds have been singing for the last two thousand years and when I see him walk by I want a jazz rift to break out that no could duplicate or recreate. I want the sun to set behind his head and the clouds to flutter like my stomach when he puts his arm around me. His hair would be dark, eyes smoldering with a thousand thoughts that burn and rekindle with the flutter of his lashes. And he’d smile so mysteriously-poised, refined would be his nature yet his laugh would come with ease and murmurs of love would pour from his mouth and into everything he attempted, touched, did.
And I could love him completely because he was honest and fair. Because he didn’t lie or hide things from me. Of course he could have his secrets but his love for me would not be among them.
I suppose that sort of stuff only happens in storybooks to bleached children with blonde hair. But I want that for me. He wouldn’t have to be someone spectacular to look at. He wouldn’t have to be terribly athletic or a superhero. He’d just have to say yes and be a person I could be proud of.
So if you ask me what heaven is, heaven is love and love seems to be unattainable.
Pronouns are the bane of my existence. For now.
Moving on. I don’t have any back to school clothes. I’m so screwed. I want to look nice when I go back to school but… it just seems like it’s not going to happen for me *again*. I need at least seven pairs of solid good-fitting jeans and do I have any? I think I may have two pairs of jeans. I need to go to Good Will so I can get some clothes. I was hoping for once I might actually be well dressed like most of the other kids but I suppose I’ll look like I live in the brink of poverty for the rest of my life. Sometimes I imagine that losing weight would improve my looks-and I don’t doubt that it would-but even then I would still be swaddled in clothes that do nothing to project the sort of person I am on the inside. Of course everything I wear doesn’t have to be completely sophisticated-I surely am not-but it could at least show some semblance of being clean, well cared for, and pulled together.
I think I have an obsessive nature. I just think about something and then I can’t get it out of my head. My obsessions as of late: Hakim, The Nasty Surprise that is Hell, and Kari Claudia.
First of all the first seven-eights of this post was mainly inspired by Hakim aka the main muse of my heartache and melodramatic confusion. The second one is the fact that I don’t see Heaven in my future just like I don’t see Michael Jackson having any black children. Finally, I don’t see why Kari Claudia is in my life but she’s there.
Kari Claudia used to get into some stuff. It's well documented here but it's probably hard to find most of it... anyway, she's decided to turn her life around and become an out and out Christian. That's great for her but I doubt that such a revelation will happen to me. I mean I would have to assume that all this illogical stuff is true and that praying (looking up at the ceiling, asking for things, then curling into the fetal position until life stops beating my ass) would change things in my life. You know, have faith.
I guess I don't want to get dooped. I mean I'm going to miss out on the fun things in life by being good. I'm already missing out on most of life now by being so damned careful. So I won't be able to curse, or do what I want when I want, or get angry. I'm not patient, I'm not nice, and I don't see why God would care about us individually. What's the point when there are so many of us? I don't want to sound more pessimistic than I am--certainly to God we are few and if he wanted to he could fix all of our lives, but he doesn't and that confuses me.
Anyway, she’s decided to save my soul, or at least talk to me about a search and rescue mission. The thing is that I haven’t done anything wrong, exactly. I’m still as pure as the virgin snow lol. I’ve never gotten drunk or done anything outlandish. I’m basically just wasting my youth-and yet I know that this isn’t enough to get into heaven because I’m not “pure” for the Lord but just by happenstance and indecision. I also know that I’m not going to heaven because it just doesn’t seem logical.
I guess I want to go up against the system and in so doing I have decided to do nothing good in my life and nothing bad and just see how I get sorted in the end. Which will probably be hell because there’s probably plenty of room down there. I also don’t think that it’s possible to go to heaven-I mean you have to be perfect and do nothing wrong and if you, in fact, have done something wrong then you have to be sorry for it.
But who decides what’s right and wrong? God. But what if you felt the thing you did wrong was for a good reason? I mean is it possible for good to come from evil? No you say. So why do evil things happen to good people? To strengthen them? Then good does come from evil. If good, in fact, can not come from evil then those bad things happen to them for no reason and they don’t get stronger or only get stronger for another reason.
I think bad has to come from good. This world is imperfect. If the ideology of Christianity is to reign-that there is any merit in giving humans the option of eternal happiness and DAMNATION and then making the rules for happiness so difficult and trying because there is goodness in the unpleasantness then you must believe that good comes from evil. When a hurricane (something that can only be controlled by God) tears down a village of 500 people and leaves 100 behind then those 100 are charged with re-building the city. Though their friends have died (evil) they have the ability to remake the city better and have a greater opportunity for jobs and happiness (good).
If you think that there is good in that scenario, fine, but I think the step of the hurricane (life) is gruesome and unneeded. Say the 100 were so depressed that they didn’t do anything to make their lives better and just sat around in their despair then they inherit hell and those who do something inherit heaven… I guess I’m the one not despairing or moving a brick at the same time…
I guess it seems like I’m trying to be a martyr. I wouldn’t be the first one-many people have died for religious reasons-but I am a whack ass martyr with no agenda and no real cause. I wish I were useful for something.
I’ve been reading about saints. They say everyone has a patron saint based on their name. That’s stupid. Who bases a saint on a name? What if your name is Aboookooeiq or something? Do you not have a saint? The closest one I found was Joyce for Joslyn… It said the Latin meant happy and light hearted-which is a meaning for my name so I went with it. The patron saint for this name is Felicity. Her seven sons were killed in front of her. Seven sons, the sword, and a woman represent her. She was a rich widow that was mauled by beasts then beheaded. Before she died she kissed another martyr named Perpetua (cool name, by the way) as they “delighted in the spiritual ecstasy” of dying for the Lord.
I hope I get to snog someone for Jesus at some point in my life.
So yeah, my patron saint is Felicity.
I decided that I wanted my saint to be black. I realized there were no black female saints. I guess I’m out of the running to personally do it but there were two black saints that interested me. Martin and Benedict. Benedict was a gifted doctor Martin was a humble, wonderful guy. The prayer to Martin goes like this:
Prayer to Saint Martin de Porres
To you Saint Martin de Porres we prayerfully lift up our hearts filled with serene confidence and devotion. Mindful of your unbounded and helpful charity to all levels of society and also of your meekness and humility of heart, we offer our petitions to you. Pour out upon our families the precious gifts of your solicitous and generous intercession; show to the people of every race and every color the paths of unity and of justice; implore from our Father in heaven the coming of his kingdom, so that through mutual benevolence in God men may increase the fruits of grace and merit the rewards of eternal life. Amen.
Martin, Benedict, and Peter seem like cool cats. I think I like them. Tomorrow I’m starting a project with my grandma. I had an idea of taking a confederate flag and making the blue X green and making the white stars black. It would be red-green-black the colors of the African flag. On the bottom it would say “Emancipated” or what Ryan came up w/ “From Slave to Owner.” I don’t think I’ll use the latter, he said he had it copyrighted and I don’t like to bite people’s style so I’ll come up with another statement that shows that Dixie can kiss my ass.
That will hang in my room. I’m working on curtain treatments for my dorm… I got a curtain panel but I fear it won’t be wide enough-it better be. Jessica got me a duck poster for my birthday. I had a squee-gasm.
Bedtime and/or more Sh-Quaila talking.