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.

Oh yeah, remember that?
Well, I went into the hospital right as that ended, which left me in a bad place for blogging. The week since then has been insane but I figured I should at the very least announce the winners.

So here we are:

I lie on the hill with my back on the ground with my eyes lightly closed, wishing I could stay like this forever. Kassie jabs me in the ribs. "No Luke!" she whispers harshly. My eyes flicker open at this jab to the landscape around me. Kassie lies next to me, a five foot eight short haired blond, cut short for practical reasons, with clear blue eyes. She lies belly first beside me on the hill, scraping forward to get a better glimpse of the scene below. She looks beautiful. At another time, at another place, I might like her. But that place isn't here or that time now. I look around, everything in the small valley is beautiful. The valley is bright at midday, the trees green, the little river looks dark clear blue, gurgling along the bottom. It looks gorgeous, the console has that effect on things: people included.

I roll over onto my stomach and crawl up alongside of Kassie, likewise peering from the crest into the valley below. The console has done its work there too, the house is tall and grand, reminding me of an old mansion, but not the Gothic imposing type, it has a nice quality to it. I wouldn't mind living there... I used to, after all. The house is surrounded by a garden with a fence around it. I look for the places where I scratched my name into the paint as a child, and where I knocked little holes, or broke sections of it. All that is gone now, the console has done its work, turning it a bright white the whole way along.

I miss my home, the hours spent throwing a ball against the wall, running around the garden. Those were when things were normal, before the world turned upside down. My parents were secret agents, I always knew that would probably result in them dying or something, I just hadn't imagined the full possible consequences. They trained me to fight in their stead. As a result, I'm probably the most adept fifteen your old guy you'll ever meet. "Look," Kassie points down to the entrance where a bright shiny car has driven up to the house, it looks like a Mercedes. It's most likely someone important, but not someone important enough for us to really care. We watch as a couple of armed soldiers get out bearing over sized guns followed by a man in a bright red suit.

"That could be him." Kassie whispers close to my ear, inadvertantly spitting into it.
"We don't know that," I return, edging a little further away.

The man with the bright red suit is spotless, as are all of his soldiers. They promptly march up to the door, knock, and gain entrance. We wait awhile longer, since we decided that it was better to attempt our raid just before twilight. For a while I follow a butterfly, flitting around the area, in and out between trees, along the crick, until it comes toward me and rests nearby. At least, I figure it's resting until it doesn't move. I scooch down and reach to touch it. I gently pick it up with my hand and hold it. It has grown cold from the sensation of death. I shiver and drop it back onto the ground, resuming my position. This too is a result of the console.

The console works on radiation, it releases moderate doses of radiation at a certain frequency, changing the overall appearance of an area, making it beautiful. The result of this beauty, though, is eventual death and decay. The Creed know that, but it doesn't stop them from distributing consoles. The Creed, a name without a face. No one really knows where they came from, not even the Alliance. I mean after all, that's why Kassie and I are here.

"How do you fight an enemy you can't see?" John Lucas asked me before I left.
"I don't know sir." I replied, unsure.
"Neither do I boy, neither do I."

Twilight is approaching, Kassie and I prepare to go into the house, checking and loading our pistols, not that they'll do much good if it comes down to a gun fight. We're both wearing metal repellent fields, but bullets might buy us some time. I'm a crack shot with a pistol, I can always make do.

The two of us creep along the edge of the hill, getting as close as possible. We've studied the habits of the men on guard, at this time of day there's only one, which we assume to be because they're eating dinner. This guard evidently isn't very well liked, for he is always on duty during dinner time, and he doesn't do a very good job of watching the landscape. Just now, I can just make him out playing a game on some electronic device. I survey the surrounding area one last time then grab Kassie's attention. We lock eyes and I nod.

I hold up my fingers and count down from five. At five I smoothly step out from the hill into plain sight. I weave my way along the grounds until I'm up against the fence. Running, in a situation like this, would be idiotic. The human eye quickly accounts for fast moving objects, much more than it does slow objects. Kassie follows after me about thirty seconds later, gliding along the lawn. One of things that makes her a valuable companion is how gracefully she moves. With a companion like Kassie, you don't have to worry about her making noise or tripping over objects, she always has control of her body. You just you have to watch yourself. Once she reaches me, the two of us slide closer to the entrance, the two of us hidden behind the fence. I slowly peer around the edge and locate the cellar door, from which we'll be entering. The garden is thick with plants, providing ideal cover to someone who would rather not be noticed. The cellar door lies on the side of the house. I slip back and motion for Kassie to do likewise. She too understands the importance of layout. She looks, moves back, looks at me, and nods. I hold up my hand again, repeating the countdown sequence. I watch my hand, it doesn't shake, like anyone normal persons's would. That's a result of steadiness training from my parents. I hit zero and slither alongside the plants, following the path cut open by the gardeners. I grimace as my foot kicks the smallest of sticks, Sloppy! I reprimand myself, reaching the wall. I watch as Kassie emerges, picking to instead go straight through the garden. I stand, impressed, as I watch her complete the task. I would probably have tripped, and definitely have made some noise getting through. Kassie manages the task in minimal time.

"Beat that," she whispers, her breathing slightly rugged from holding her breath.
"What, you want me to die?" She grins as if it to say "Yes, I want you to die." and we go back to the task at hand. Before we open the door, Kassie oils the hinges, to prevent unnecessary groaning. I slowly, open the door and it utters the smallest creak. We pause, but there's no response from the guard. I didn't expect there to be one. The two of us slip in through the open crack and we lithely make our way into the cellar.

The cellar is covered from floor to ceiling with my family's stuff. I feel drawn to a lot of it: photographs, baseball bats, and a lot of other things. But this is house number two, not one. We went to Kassie's place first. Kassie nudges me, "Remember, you can't take anything home. This stuff is soaked in radiation." I nod, relinquishing any hope of taking any of it with me. "We get what we need, and we get out." She reiterates. I nod again, and we make our way through the piles of objects, never again to be used. On the far wall hangs a picture of my parents and I from my eighth birthday. I feel the tears start to come up, but I will them down and blink rapidly. Now's not the time Luke. I swallow and Kassie and I reach the steps. The two of us silently climb the stairs. The distant sounds of a dinner party echo down: glasses clinking together, laughter, and music. I scrunch my nose in disgust. A dinner party in radiation, sounds like a pretty dumb idea to me. 

We reach the top of the stairs and I slowly turn the knob and peer through the crack. Light floods through, partially blinding me until my eyes adjust. When it does, the hall is empty. I motion for Kassie to follow, and we come through the door, slowly closing it behind us. No ends left untied. We're in a grey carpeted hallway with a staircase next to us. The two of us quickly climb the staircase, the carpet stifling the sounds of our movement. At the end of the hall, the light is on under the door and the toilet flushes. I firmly grab Kassie by the arm and the two of us slip into the closest room swiftly shutting the door behind us. We're in my parent's bedroom. The light is off, and all I can see is the light filtering in through the bottom of the door. I listen, and I hear the sound of our breathing and then the sound of water at the end of the hall. A door opens followed by the sound of muffled footsteps. The steps grow nearer and then go down the staircase. I breathe in the scent of my parents room one last time and then open the door. I walk through the door, and Kassie follows, shutting the door after me. The two of us make our way down the hall, reaching our destination, my dad's office. We open the door and shut it after us. I flick on the light switch and a very familiar looking room comes into view. "Home sweet home." I mutter, striding forward. The back wall is covered with a bookshelf, full of books and a door sits on the side of the wall. I look at the empty chair behind the desk in the center of the room. I miss you Dad. Emotions rise, but I quell them and get back to the task at hand. Kassie and I are here for my identity papers: nothing more, nothing less. We had already been to her house and succeeded. Now it was my turn. I sat down by the desk and stared at the front right side. I reached for the leg on the bottom and pushed in one of the edges. A small puzzle drew itself in front of me in the wood. My parents had taught me to solve this puzzle ages ago. I quickly worked my way through the minute but extensive workings in the desk, making my way to the vault where my papers lay. Twist, push, rearrange, solve. Click. I pushed in the last corner of the puzzle and flicked the switch that appeared. The wall disassembled and a folder came into view. It was a manila folder, not extremely fancy looking. I quickly flipped it open to check and noticed an envelope that I'd never seen before.

Kassie, who had been listening at the door, now flicks off the lights. Panic floods over me. I frantically shut the envelope, flick the puzzle shut and lunge forward, grabbing onto her arm. I pull her toward the side door, quietly pulling open the door, half shoving her inside and clambering in after her; I then draw it shut. Five seconds later, a light turns on in the office. Crap, we're in serious trouble. While the person in the adjacent room, moves about slowly, my eyes manically search the darkness for an escape. I search the sink, the walls, the shower, the toilet, and the tub full of water, but I see nothing of any hope. For the lack of a better word, we're screwed.

I look at Kassie, and can just make out her expression: astonishment. She glances sharply at me then runs forward, jumps into the air, and dives into the bathtub. I stare flabbergasted for about two seconds. What choice do I have? I run, jump, and dive into the bathtub after her. All the while I'm thinking what the heck did I just do?

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I ran from task to task, marrying myself to business in my decaying state of affairs. I watched. I knew. God slowly dropped into the background, even though I tried my best to keep Him involved. We both know it wasn't adequate. The weekend brought a lot of relaxation, and with it a lot of great effects. A lot of time spent focused on God... But we both knew it still wasn't adequate. Monday rolled around, life got busy. He didn't disappear, but He wasn't nearly as evident as either of us would have liked. It was the same old problem. The same old daze. How was I to fight something that ate all my time? I couldn't drop it, lock it down and crop it, and I certainly couldn't stop it.
So, I prayed for rain.
And then the rain came.
You'd think paralysis would be extremely disorienting for someone who spends all of his time in physical activity. It wasn't.

I reach down and try to grab my phone, but I can't hold on to it. My finger won't clench, and the sensation is numb. I should be concerned right? All I feel is peace though, despite my lack of control. I realize that I'm losing control of parts of my body, and I surrender that knowledge to God. "Take it God, you do all things for the good of those you love, according to your purpose."

Paralysis should be frightening. Perhaps my emotions were paralyzed. I don't think so. I kept everyone else's spirits up, they all seemed so frightened by the prospects. I can't let them worry, after all, I'm at peace, they should be too. I joke, laugh, and make bad puns. They still seem concerned. Why?
I've been praying for rain.
And then the rain came.

Paralysis is strange because you're so disabled and yet so able. My mind ran a mile a minute, working better than it often does when the rest of my body is functioning. Maybe because its load was lightened. My heart rate exploded, that was okay. After all, if I died, what then? Heaven right? Sure, that sucks for everyone else that knows me, but not really for me. Freedom, that's what I've always longed for. True, God-dependent freedom. And I was pretty close to having what I wanted, at least closer than I'd ever been before.

And then the rain came.

Losing sight of God in a world that is filled with distractions is easy. Solomon saw that, "All is vanity and a striving after the wind." I certainly read that phrase enough that I should have been able to recognize its application. I misunderstood my distraction, I thought I was distracted by one thing, when, in truth, I was distracted by a great many. Each one tugging at my heart, beckoning me away from Christ. Good gifts, some of God's best, but gifts not the giver. We both knew it wasn't adequate. I knew it. He knew it. It was merely a matter of time until something happened.

"STOP!"

The voice reverberated around the mental chamber of my imagination. I stopped. I had no choice after all, God had spoken. He pulled me to my knees, quite literally, and cried out Be still and know I am God. I looked up and saw him looking down, and understanding flooded my eyes. Pure, divine light filtered through the cracks of my heart, illuminating its dirty exposed core. I lay there and waited. And waited. "Can I get up now?" Be still and know I am God. "Can I get up now?" Be still and know I am God. I knelt, and waited, and looked up into the lantern of God's wisdom. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." and waited. Do you not know? Have you not heard? "Yes, Lord." Then he who has ears let him hear.

And then the rain came.

Retrospect. A word generally understood but not generally applied. What good is experience without the ability to learn from it? To forget the past is to relive a thousand agonies. God started to blend, against His nature and against my knowledge. And when He did, life became a thousand shades of grey. I can't fall into that trap again. I need the diligence of friendship that pulls me closer to God. If you're reading this, be that person. So I prayed, and then the rain came.

Don't forget, why you're here.
Don't forget, to keep standing.
Don't forget, what's he's done.
Don't forget, what you're meant to do, 
because you were made for so much more.
So don't forget.