A Few Brilliant Ideas...

HEY. So, I'm doing the college thing right now. I think it's called applying. I'm not really sure, I do know I get to fill in a lot of bubbles though. BUBBLES. If you like bubbles, AP tests must be like a field full of flowers. What if on AP tests, instead of using paper bubbles, we used bubble wrap and then popped the bubble corresponding to your answer. THAT WOULD BE AWESOME. Now my brain is interfering:
Brain: Hey, you know that would be really distracting.
Me: No, it wouldn't.
Brain: Yes it would.
Me: IT'D BE WORTH IT.
Brain: shuddup idjit.

My brain isn't very nice to me. He's a derpity pants.










IN OTHER NEWS, there was this lady from Swarthmore at school the other day, and she was like: "You can start any club you want!" and I was all like: "OH RLY?" and she then relayed that someone who didn't even belong on their campus had started a Quidditch team. Or as Blogger decides to autocorrect that word a Chappaquiddick team. A team of murdering senators driving cars? Now THAT sounds like fun.

So I decided, when I finally get excommunicated... err... accepted to one of these colleges I'm going to go to Swarthmore and start a frisbee team. Even though none of my colleges are related to Swarthmore in any way shape or form. I'll just walk in and be like "YO SON. WE GONNA DISK UP IN HEEYA." But, when I proposed my brilliance to one of my friends she was like "EXCEPT Swarthmore has a Frisbee team" because she always has to win. So I said that's okay, because it probably sucks so I can just start another one. I'll just swagger in all casual like this



and make a NEW TEAM and they'll all come flocking to me because that's pretty much how my life works.

ehehehe. YES IT DOES. NO BRAIN. weiugegriyjeiojh. Lost control of hands for a moment there.

So, I was just told that Hugh Jackman is my spirit animal. I'm really excited about this. I mean, it's not everyone that gets to have Wolverine as their spirit animal. I also decided that he is the most oily man that I can of off the top of my head. Jacob stand back because Hugh has you beat by a twenty foot whipping rod. Ow, that would really hurt.

Quote of Yesterday:
"One does not simply edit Cajua's vocals."

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? 
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
How long O LORD? This is my prayer,
Living day to day, un-exalting despair.
How long O LORD? My arms feel weak,
I've been praying every day for a matter of weeks.
How long O LORD? Till you reach in my heart,
life is at me, pulling, trying to tear me apart.

How long O LORD... How long?

Time goes by but misery stays.
Will I be walking on a treadmill till the end of my days?
There used to be a time when I saw the light,
at the end of the tunnel, but that light's been smite.
I know you're there, cause I've felt you before,
even now you must be working, but I'm as blind as a door.

I used to live with such a passion for eternity's start,
But now not even that can put a spark in this heart.
Words go in one ear and out of the other,
with not a change in between to make me a better lover.
The moments of relief are brief and dim,
they don't last long, and they're gone with the wind.

I don't know if it is something that I've done wrong,
or if it's just that you are teaching me to sing a different song.
The same old tune, the same old case,
a different politics but the same old face.
If I'm doing something wrong, then God just make it clearer,
don't leave me here to suffer, without your Spirit drawing nearer.

I don't want to wrong you, maybe once I did,
but I'm earnestly seeking you, will you open my eyelids?
Things have been dark for a while now.
I don't feel the opposition, but I know it's around.
I need to hear your word, not just take it through my ears,
but have it strike a chord, in the midst of my tears.

I'm an emotional guy, you made me that too,
and to the people who are reading this, you know it to be true.
I need you to sweep me, make it the whole of my being,
to be enamored with you, that's my spirit-driven pleading.
God, I'm not complacent. It's not who I am.
I need your passion pulling me to shape me like the Lamb.

The nations rage and clash before the hands of the almighty.
The waves crash against one another, in a desperate struggle for land.
The earth itself revolts, natural disasters sweeping far and wide across countries plagued by famine and war.
Laughter is sparse... Laughter is insanity,
for only the fool would laugh in a time so filled with pain and death.

When the mountains turn their grey faces, and blow smokey ash across your house,
when the lava bubbles from their mouths, destroying all that stands between,
when the earth beneath you splits and all you can do is cry out.

Holy is He.
The earth resounds with this call, order sweeping across the chaos, the alive feel weaker than ever before.
Man balls up his fist in anger and waves it at the air, at the God he knows must be there.
He shouts, "God is not real! It was a matter of chance!"
 but after years of holding back the earth, God's justice reigns supreme.
The words of the mocker are swallowed by lava, the hatred of the cynic tossed into the waves,
the blessings of the wicked tossed millions of feet into the air by hurricanes.

He cannot be touched.

Man seeks the cause of the plague but finally even the doubter cannot deny,
"It is God. It cannot be anything else."
Man will flee to the planets, to the moon and to the stars, but even there he will meet his fate.
Where is there that he can find rest from the God that made the stars with his fingers?

Even in the midst of the world unfolding, man will cling to his earth.
Attempting to tape it together like a broken boomerang,
hoping it will come back together for him... Just one more time.
But this time it will be for naught, for the God of creation's wrath will be displayed.
and all will see.

The righteous with the unrighteous.
A sobering thought.

But for now, man is free to shake his fist at God, though he'll do him no harm.
The time will come, not may- it will come, when God's wrath won't be restrained.
In the meantime, we cry; we pray; we plea for the unsaved.
Because they may not know it,
but there's a day coming,
and it's getting closer
and closer
every
single
day.