Tumblr

For the most part, I'm moving my blog to my tumblr. Feel free to check it out... sometimes it's pretty ok :)

http://bekahandthewayshelikesit.tumblr.com/

Four letter words, including that one that starts with L.

MESS. We are a mess. No, not just you and me. People in general. We need each other but then we hurt each other. Sometimes its intentional and sometimes it’s passive, but the effect is the same. We’re too scared to fully care about those that we love. Too terrified to get close, but more afraid of being lonely. Our thoughts are skewed and we act selfishly and the result is this messy jumbled web of hurt and caring which is altogether confusing, because we love so imperfectly. GOOD. Do good things exist? I’ve had several debates with friends, co-workers, and classmates lately about this. Good intentions have to exist for love to be real. If you love someone, you want good things for them. Love cannot be self seeking. People are, by definition, self seeking. LOVE. Perfect love, from which all good things stem, is only found in Love himself, my God. We CAN love, if it’s rooted in him. We can bring hope, the ceasing of hurt, and other good things into the world if he is our source.

I will continue to love, imperfectly at times. I will continue to learn about true love from my Lord.

Words are symbols for real things, so please use them carefully

I think we too often classify things as good or bad, when rarely can anything be classified that way, unless talking about milk. Good and bad, when referring to people, is an opinion, unless coming from God. He’s allowed to throw around words like that because He is perfect, and even then he uses words more fitting such as “sinful” and “righteous” or “pleasing.” “Good” and “bad,” coming from us are usually judgment words.

Double Negative

There are a million and one things I need to do right now and being stubborn with you isn’t one of them. So I’m stopping. I’d love for you to stop too. Please don’t not stop.

Double negative.

Just like I will never not feel loved when you hold my hand.

Just like I will never not miss you when I wake up to Brand New Day.

If a double negative is a positive, and a double POSITIVE is just extra positive, does that go to show that everything is better in excess?

Probably not, because too much ice cream gives me a stomachache, but I think you are an exception to that rule, because I honestly can’t get enough of you.

Puke.

If you were here listening to me, you’d mime gagging into the nearest trash can.

You think I hate cute things.

The truth is, I’m kinda a sucker, even though I hate to admit it.

The truth is, I love you.

I and love and you.

(no longer are those just the words dancing around in my head and my mouth. No longer do I have to swallow them before speaking. And it feels so good.)

My uniform is white but my eyes are green and this is how I see the world

The shuttle sets off into a clip-clip-clip rhythm

Accompanied by a din of voices

Women in their 40’s and 50’s making small talk about their dayweekplanskidsdinner and the weather

I, of course, am forced to eavesdrop

And all I can think is that I hope I can never utter that sentence that

Mrs. curley-haired, turtle-necked, sensible-shoed woman in the 3^rd isle just said

I hope that I can never,

EVER.

With any sincerity, say

“This week was a blur”

I may, at this moment, look like a blur

My white, pristine, student uniform blending in with my skin tone and hair color

Clean.

Crisp.

Camouflaged.

White and spotless,

But in my mind is a mess of colors exploding

Inside the sounds are loud, dissonant, and unruly

One day, I may be in that woman’s shoes

One day I may be on the other side of the planet

We’ll see.

But no matter what or where or how my immediate and distant future turn out,

I refuse to let who I am be defined by where I am

I refuse to quit seeing the beauty in every day.

I refuse to quit being in awe at each new moment.

Sometimes Bekah has a thought explosion. This is the result of one of them

Sometimes I wish I had a better way of expressing myself. So often my vocabulary falls short of the vivacity of my thoughts and feelings. I’ve tried to paint it or draw it and I’ve failed miserably. Most of the time, a culmination of all of the senses are needed to conjure up the substance of my thoughts. The hard part, probably, is that most of the time I don’t understand myself.

Time. Time freaks me out. I never have enough time to invest myself as fully as I wish I could in certain friendships, projects, pursuits of knowledge, etc. Yet, when I have time I have no idea what to do with it. Time is such a cruel devise.

Foolish Ramble.

It's over. You

fooled

me into thinking this was something real, instead of a silly game. Well, you're the winner wearing your medal made up of distance, independence, excuses, and easy-way-outs. You stand tall because you have your pride clutched in your fist and perhaps you think that I am

foolish

for being vulnerable. I let myself hurt, rejoice, and be touched, maybe too often and too deeply. But at least I feel. So now, who is the one that is

fooling

around? You or me? Because you work so hard to make it look like you are having fun, but I know you better than that. You may see me as weak, painted in pastel colors and whispering soft sweet songs, but know this: I am nobody's

fool.

I just still believe in good things. I believe in kept promises and Truth and the type of Love that lays aside one's own life for another. For this, I think I am stronger, not weaker.