Your lips move but I don't understand what you're saying...

Why is it that when talking to God, people feel the need to use a language that is completely removed from the language of reality? It is only in prayer that words such as "upon," "amongst," "gathered," "cleanse," and "seek" are used with alarming regularity. While the use of such words in common conversation would earn nothing more than slanted, sideways glances of disbelief or politely swallowed snorts of mockery; in the eyes of Christians, God is apparently too polite to feel the desire to snigger at the pretentious attitude behind the Church's obnoxious prayers.

Who is the Church to restrict God's conversation skills to an ostentatious style of speaking that does nothing but further alienate Christianity from reality? Imagine for a moment if the Church insisted on speaking to their friends in the same manner in which they insist on speaking to God:
"Is that rain falling upon the garden? Well, I am quite thankful we are all gathered inside. Not only can we seek shelter from the rain within this house, but we have also been given this opportunity to congregate amongst friends. What an incredible blessing."

If Jesus came to be God among us, maybe it is time we began speaking to him with respect that is at least equal to that which we show to our loved ones.

After Afternoons

Look over
a desert valley
raw red
rough red
smooth red
deep craters
and rising hills slightly
burning
and turning me
rosy healthy rolling

burnt.
Texas sun
broad-brimmed leather hats
sweet smoke and sweat and
tears
cooling to fall
onto reddened shoulders
frolicking romping
in grassy hills
mud-slingers
wrestlers
sweet

a story traced
by roughened fingers
across the plains
of my burnt shoulders.

Not this again...

I hate starting. There is something so appealing and satisying about the very initial start of something new, but once the page is first marked, it becomes work to build something comfortable once again. I am so addicted to these crisp new beginnings that I forget about the discomfort that lies right behind them.

I had a wonderful day yesterday; a classic, hoped-for Victoria Day. What an odd holiday. Thank you oh useless representative monarchy of Canada for granting us a day off in the middle of such a beautiful month! Not that a "day off" really means anything to me right now, but it does mean something to those around me, which in turns benefits me. I spent the day with my close friend/cousin Nicole and her family. We walked around all morning, stopping at various flower shops where my aunt was busily plotting her new and improved Victorian garden scheme for this year. In the afternoon, we went to a park and flew a kite. BATKITE, to be precise. Batkite was eagerly rebellious in the wind and made for many hours (well, 1½) of enjoyable arguments and tense struggles for power with him. Flying a kite forces you outside, into a green space, where you have to be faced with a strong wind whipping away any anxieties or embarrassments you may have. And the whole time, you inevitably have "Let's Go Fly a Kite" from Mary Poppins running through your head. Well, at least I did. What could be more enjoyable?

And, to make a lovely day even better, I burnt my shoulders! Summer has gloriously, triumphantly arrived in a blaze of rosy skin and aloe vera applications. I have bid my official adieu to the blinding pastiness of the winter months. Unfortunately, I suspect aurevoir is more accurate...

The torture of convenience

Weapon of searing heat
aimed ruthlessly to blind
the hopeful eyes
of my heart
peering out so earnestly
only to be met with vicious rage
aimlessly shuffled along in ragged rows
scorched-topped vegetables
back behind iron bars.

Pulsing beacon
laced and stiffened
with the heat of mindless passion
rapist's erection
cruelly elongating
into an obscene grin
before savagely thrust to stifle
broken useless denials.

It radiates defeat
and gleefully crushes hope
and plucks one by one
the faint gleam of stars
that struggled to shine in my eyes
until I pull the plug
on the empty red glow
of the answering machine.

Love Song of the 21st Century

So.

That's the way we speak
it seems
to old friends and new acquaintances
lovers and random chats
shoulder-brushing, finger-tip clasping
arms tightly locking
and still
it seems
means no more to you
than digital footprints
on an encoded soul.

I hate technology.

I knew it all along

You scored as Cinderella. Your alter ego is Cinderella! You often find yourself doing a lot of housework, but if you are patient, your hard work usually pays off. You are prone to losing things, so don't rush through everything. Which Disney Character is your Alter Ego? created with QuizFarm.com

If I were made of saran-wrap you still could not see through me...

It is 100 in the morning, and if I were a reasonable, intelligent citizen still recovering from jet-lag at an inordinately slow rate, I would be sleeping by now after realizing what a smart idea that would be, especially considering that I have to be awake, in the shower, and perkily raring to go in 6 hours. But as the unreasonable, muddle-headed citizen that I am, I am attempting to make the first witty and captivating paragraph entry on my blog. Brilliant.

Note that I clarify this is to be my first paragraph entry. I started this blog back in February already, after being inspired by a friend on the online journal site I used to/at times still do frequent. Now however, I feel a greater inclination to shrug off at least a portion of my excessive anonymity and share daily or at least thrice-weekly profound thoughts with all my loved and looming ones. We who blog think so highly of ourselves, don't we? I just can't seem to resist jumping on this self-important bandwagon.

The more times I write the word "blog," the more ridiculous I feel. I'm sure this slightly-ill feeling will pass by the time I feel inspired to offer my next morsel of { insert appropriate noun here as my already-strained thinking skills have decided to shut down completely }.

With love from,
the bemused and slightly shamed
Virgin blogger