of life's complexion.
today i realized that true graphic designers live on Photoshop. today i realized i'm not a graphic designer. in an attempt to prove the world (myself) wrong, i made a vespers poster completely on PS. After 1.5 hours of increased heart rate and nausea, i began a search for a tutorial. not only am i not a graphic designer, i'm a wannabe. double fail with a side of poser? you got it. for the record, the names of places in the background were typed one by one until i had a substantial list to copy/paste. also, it was my idea. so was the (lack of true) color scheme. its a start people. nobody said it was easy.
allow me to be perfectly clear
that perfection has lost its cause on me
even if i had the formula to follow
the steps to take
the exact directions to get me there
i would find a way to
throw a stone--break it
take a gun--kill it
see it coming--and run the other way.
so you're not confused:
i knew exactly what i was doing
when i
walked to my sin
checked my morals at the door
and let my twisted excuse for a
heart
convince me that this can make up
for the real thing.
in case you were misled
that stone in my chest is the same one
the same
that i used to crack perfection
to make noise
to stack high on its side,
an illusion of substance
and quality.
i went with the strength of an army
determined
that what i want will ever outlast
what i should
and don't dare confuse that
with what i was taught.
for even Paul had tried to simplify
i dont do what i should
i do what was never the plan
and still i regret to tell you
a plan i simply can't afford.
i've already spent what was
left
of value
on the moment i became
what i swore i'd never be.
do your Best to fit me into
your cutout of forgiveness
easy, since you won't carry around
those that hurt you
on your back.
i've been carrying Mariela
for 20 years now
forgiveness the
farthest
town from where i stand
(perfection itself the only house
farther)
the load grows
only to bend my face closer
to the ground i feel
i'm already pressed to.
that perfection has lost its cause on me
even if i had the formula to follow
the steps to take
the exact directions to get me there
i would find a way to
throw a stone--break it
take a gun--kill it
see it coming--and run the other way.
so you're not confused:
i knew exactly what i was doing
when i
walked to my sin
checked my morals at the door
and let my twisted excuse for a
heart
convince me that this can make up
for the real thing.
in case you were misled
that stone in my chest is the same one
the same
that i used to crack perfection
to make noise
to stack high on its side,
an illusion of substance
and quality.
i went with the strength of an army
determined
that what i want will ever outlast
what i should
and don't dare confuse that
with what i was taught.
for even Paul had tried to simplify
i dont do what i should
i do what was never the plan
and still i regret to tell you
a plan i simply can't afford.
i've already spent what was
left
of value
on the moment i became
what i swore i'd never be.
do your Best to fit me into
your cutout of forgiveness
easy, since you won't carry around
those that hurt you
on your back.
i've been carrying Mariela
for 20 years now
forgiveness the
farthest
town from where i stand
(perfection itself the only house
farther)
the load grows
only to bend my face closer
to the ground i feel
i'm already pressed to.
Icy rain and wind outside; inside, my back’s
To the bedraggled human shape asprawl
On the comfy corner sofa at the Starbucks,
Invisibly fenced from the rest of us by swellsOf back-alley scent. The glass door reflects
A knit cap pulled low over the face, chin
Buried in bulky red. I can only guess the leg
That catches my peripheral vision is a man’s,
Bulgy calf exposed — no way to quite make out
The tattoo stretching along the patchy skin,
A blue range of mountains maybe, flock
Of seabird wings, with just a touch of sun —
Yes, sun, I don’t think I’m imagining it —
Rising from the folds of a gray sock
By: Mark Smith-Soto
I was watching Shane Dawson's latest video, and he mentioned Pepper Anne. That is the funniest reference to an old school show ever, especially sincever actually makes those references.Either way, i had no choice but to go find the theme song on youtube. now it is permanently in my head. thanks.
my good friend Gabe posted this and it made me so happy i cried. whether i'm a total sap or its really that amazing, you need to watch it and continue to wish (like i have) to have a beautiful fun group of people that love the way they do. enjoy!
i wrote this for the clocktower and i think its one of my best. not sure why/how i was so inspired, but i will not complain.
I've never seen Bambi. The farthest west I've ever gone is...Nebraska? The expression "it's like riding a bike" doesn't apply to me, since I never learned how. My attempts at adding another instrument to my repetoire have left me with (still) just the piano. I've tried to read the classics, but I always end up on Sparknotes. I buy new journals because they're pretty, but I've never kept one for longer than a month. When I realize I should start journaling again, I buy a new one. (Hence the collection.)
If the quality of my life was determined by the amount of succesful New Years resolutions, it wouldn't be worth much. Even with my history, though, I never hesitate to make new ones, always taking advantage of the momentum a new number brings. It seems silly not plan for changes when a new year grants a clean slate and the opportunity the start over. After all, this year might actually be different.
I've never seen Bambi. The farthest west I've ever gone is...Nebraska? The expression "it's like riding a bike" doesn't apply to me, since I never learned how. My attempts at adding another instrument to my repetoire have left me with (still) just the piano. I've tried to read the classics, but I always end up on Sparknotes. I buy new journals because they're pretty, but I've never kept one for longer than a month. When I realize I should start journaling again, I buy a new one. (Hence the collection.)
If the quality of my life was determined by the amount of succesful New Years resolutions, it wouldn't be worth much. Even with my history, though, I never hesitate to make new ones, always taking advantage of the momentum a new number brings. It seems silly not plan for changes when a new year grants a clean slate and the opportunity the start over. After all, this year might actually be different. I read somewhere that if resolutions remained so, we wouldn't need to make new ones. If I had stuck with my hopes of road-tripping the West Coast, there would be no need to add it to my list for this year. Just like drinking more water, or reading more books, I've confused resolutions for regrets, as if changing the last digit of the date can counter 20 years of bad habits. The difference between December 31 and January 1 is only a day, and yet it carries ages of contrition and the potential to let yourself down once again.
This is not to say that resolutions don't work and you're setting yourself up for failure. Any opportunity for improvement is rare and deserves full usage. It's finding the stamina to last 12 months of change that I find difficult. One year from now seems far, far away. (Just the thought of doing P90X for 90 days is overwhelming). Looking back,however, last year was but a blink. I can't help but wonder what today would be like if I hadn't forgotten to continue changing.
What I've finally discovered is that at the very core of every resolution is a renewed dedication to discipline. Discipline is simply a desicion of behavior: what you want now vs. what you want most. Whatever it is that we have decided needs to be different--body, study habits, sense of adventure, cleanliness, or even spiritual life--change comes to those who work for it today.
i've been realizing that i'm a mess.
thanks for not noticing
(or ignoring it.)
sometimes the best sign
of sincere love
is not doing your part,
not having your say,
not taking out trashes,
but leaving me to find the pieces
and reorganize
so i know where everything is.
thanks for not noticing
(or ignoring it.)
sometimes the best sign
of sincere love
is not doing your part,
not having your say,
not taking out trashes,
but leaving me to find the pieces
and reorganize
so i know where everything is.
i have no reason to apologize. guilty pleasures get their names for a reason! i can't get enough of the jersey shore madness, or michael cera, so it makes sense to put them together into this genius mash up. thank you, MTV, for bring such quality to our lives.
sabbath has a history of being the time to catch up on life.
>listening to/finding music that i've been meaning to scope out
>naps, and more naps
>reading blogs i've neglected. and by blogs, i mean http://www.lovestopicnic.blogspot.com/
>trying to finish "captivating", after 3 years.
>finding nemo, again
>nail painting (probably the same exact color, just a fresh coat)
>facials/hair dying...not as often as you'd think
>photoshoots:
basically, i think i've forgotten what sabbath is actually about. my "duties" aren't finished when i leave church. there isn't a quota of "happy sabbaths" i need to say (pretty sure i met them though.) and when it comes down to it, we could all use a little more jesus.
