Asynchronity

Don't chase me there if you're going to haunt my dreams.
I want what you want and I need what you need; I fail where you fail and I crumble more often than I show it.

I'm after honesty, because I'm after truth. I'm after wholeness. I am from, for, and made possible by the Almighty and I don't understand anything at all but I'm learning...slowly.

I'm trying to say the word "I" less often.
Henceforth I will be scribbling there instead of here for reasons I am not at liberty to discuss, because I am a lady.

Try to understand. Or walk away. I know how to run but I don't want to, and I find it incredible that I am viewed as a threat, when all I feel is small and broken all of the time.

I owe the world an apology and the world owes me one. We're all at odds but we're trying to find the evens.

One day, so help me, I will become good at this.

√evil

Just a random thought, which isn't meant to be an exhaustive critique or anything [ideally I'd rather say short things that spark interesting, thoughtful discussions rather than produce lengthy essays on my own]:

Think about the etymology of the word "capitalism."
"Capital" means money. More broadly, it's simply a desirable commodity or resource, of course...but that's really all money is: a standard form of capital used most often in a society for the exchange of goods and services.

Capitalism therefore, is an ideology in which money, or capital, plays a central role. The word itself directly connotates this.

The apostle Paul says to Timothy: "The love of money is the root of all kinds of evils."

Placing money at the center of your political philosophy is therefore probably not a good idea.


Isaac, I know this is going to make you very angry and you're immediately going to want to defend your beloved capitalism. As always, feel free, but please go take a walk or something and assimilate/settle down before you assemble your response, because while I'm never opposed to hearing your thoughts, I'm not particularly interested in being yelled at today...or ever...

...

Everyone is going insane.

Politicians endlessly pander from their podiums and the people pedantically parrot them, producing disputably precise portrayals.
Why does anyone care?
The world has been going to hell in a handbasket since Genesis 3, you are not Jesus Christ and you do not have a comic book series named after you and you are not here to save us all; please return to your seat.
All of these people are telling lies, and the law of inertia stipulates that the momentum of an entire nation is a very difficult thing to interfere with.

This is not because of the democrats.
This is not because of the republicans.
This is not because of Hollywood.
This is not because of freedom.
This is not even because of the serpent.
This is because of you.
This is because of me.
This is because people all suck and this is what happens whenever you get two or more of them together.

Barack Obama is probably not the anti-Christ.
Sarah Palin is probably not a deranged psychopath.
Politicians are people too, which means they're not wise enough to rule themselves either, which means they're certainly not wise enough to rule others.

We are not supposed to be focusing on this.
We are not supposed to be yelling about this.
Holding our government accountable is one thing...
Fighting amongst ourselves about petty partisan issues is another.

And if so many people really want to change the world, why don't they just try being nice to each other for a change?
I guess because it's a lot harder than spending all your time "educating" yourself about issues that don't directly involve you.
And caring about things that don't matter doesn't require as much energy as caring about people. It's something you can interact with at your leisure. But no one can accuse you of wasting your time.

It's not that I think it's bad to be informed...
And it's not that I'm pointing any fingers...
I just get really tired of the things people spend their days arguing over.
Like it really matters...

All these unloved neighbors and unchanged power balances remain; day after day.
I don't see God in all this.
But I think that's just because of everyone's useless bullshit blocking my view.

I am no better.
And I am not delusional.
I am just bothered.
And I want everyone to settle down.
Because they're pissing the world off.
That is all.

Exposé

[And I do not care. Writing is an outlet, and this is a story that belongs to a lot of people, not just me. I feel the need to share it, because it's part of me, and it shouldn't be covered up. It's a process that is unfinished, and I firmly believe the answer will come together. I even believe the answer will come from God, but I think that is nonspecific and I won't count it until it is specific. Here goes.]

All the questions are pressing closer. They want to know, they want to know, but I can't tell them. I am not a scholar or an artist and I don't belong here. I get distracted so easily, I get distracted and discouraged and then distraught. I don't know what I'm looking for but I have to find it. They persist, they insist, I desist. I digress, I don't even exist. But clearly I do, I'm not a man without a country I'm a country without a man. Creative? I can't even paint a picture of my failure to paint a picture. Brilliant? A parrot speaking Greek and sporting a coat of incidences and coincidences. I can't be you because I am not you, but I can't be me because I don't know what that means. I've never been able to figure out how to create so I imitate. And I run away when they stare me down with their empty eyes and their accusatory frown lines; I don't want a fight, I just want to be free. I want to know what something besides squeezing and pulling and stinging feels like. And I want to know what something besides nothing feels like. I want to run instead of hobble and taste instead of swallow and not have to rush back to meet a deadline emptyhanded because all of this is over my head and I don't know how to get up there, not if my life depended on it; and by the way I always feel like it does, and then when I'm still alive I think that I am dead. Maybe it's because I've always been dead. But it's not that I can't do it, it's just that I don't know how. Or maybe it is that I can't; I have a hard time believing that I am capable of so much as staying inside my skin and functioning somewhat humanly, and even when I do, day after day, I remain a skeptic regarding the whole situation. I stole that metaphor too: I'm nothing but an urchin who's spent her life lurking in alleys and around corners, waiting for some kind or unsuspecting soul to drop a morsel that I can snatch up and paste over the hole in my chest, hoping someday something will actually stick. Then when nothing works and I in turn am dropping things, people think they were mine. They weren't mine and it makes me uncomfortable. I don't know why I'm here or who I am here for; I don't know my name or my purpose or where I belong and I would love to help you, but if I were to try, you would have nobody helping you. I should go away; but there is no more "away"...I would go there if I knew how, believe me.

Long ago I ran away from home before I knew what it was, because I wanted to have a home and I went out looking for one. It was all an accident and I didn't mean to. All I wanted was to find someone to love me and to find somewhere I was meant to be. Now I'm here, and I don't know where here is, I just know that it's dark and there are phantoms and monsters here and they hurt. And if my father cares at all why hasn't he come after me yet? I guess it's true that he has given up or forgotten, or maybe it's worse; maybe I never had one at all. I'm the sort of orphan who's never had a place to belong and never will, I was an accident and now I'm a burden on reality at large. And I want to have something to give the world, but all I know how to do is take from it. Isn't it true that anything I'll try to give will just end up being more taking? This cycle will never end and all I can do is... ... ... ...

...Wow: we don't have words for the state of being completely passive, completely dependent upon some other entity. Our very language suggests that we always have a choice in the matter; in trying to describe how I feel about being a malfunctioning cog screwing up the great machine of reality, the closest I could get was "let," which renders a function in which I can either choose to remain as I am or choose to stop letting. Even "remain" is an action verb; I either remain or I leave. It seems that way. But when you've been trying and failing your whole life to get out of the seemingly-bottomless pit with the slippery steep sides, eventually what are you going to do? The definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, isn't it? So you give up and you settle in and yes, I still feel like I can complain because I did try; all I've ever done is try! And what more am I really supposed to do?! If someone has a better suggestion, go ahead and voice it. If I haven't attempted it before, I will. And when I fail, then what? Then you can continue to blame me for not being enough to fix this; not being enough to fix myself. And then we're right back where we started. That is precisely my point, that I'm not enough, that I'm all wrong and I've always hated that.

But maybe it's a reality I just have to accept. That I have no role to play, and all I do is get in the way. I refuse to accept that! I don't know what to do beyond that, but I will not believe that I am not because who is it who's fighting this, then? I am. I don't know anything besides that or how to figure it out, but I'll hold out here as long as I can until I get at something further.

As for what I am supposed to "do"...how the fuck should I know? Get out of my face, I do not care.

Et tu, insomnia?

My plan to take over the world, by H.L.I,I.a.o. (alias Heather)

I. Get rich
I shall accomplish this most important step by, logically, marrying an incredibly wealthy man. After we are married and his riches have in turn become my riches, I will naturally use every penny at my disposal to buy my way up the proverbial corporate ladder of world leadership until I reach the very top. As compensation for being in effect my chief investor, I shall allow my husband the enviable title of my Second-in-command.
If, for any reason, this plan shall fail (e.g. if I somehow manage to accidentally marry a poor boy, or if my rich husband unexpectedly loses his fortune before I have the chance to invest it in my future career as Sovereign Ruler of All Earth), I shall resort to Plan B: acquire treasure map, find buried treasure...or Plan C: knock over a casino.
In the incredibly unlikely event that none of these alternative methods of gaining access to tremendous riches work, I shall at last employ Plan D: devise pyramid scheme and con large numbers of the populace out of a few dollars at a time until I've accrued a formidable reservoir of currency.

II. Systematically assassinate existing world leaders
This step is fairly straightforward. Once I have ludicrous amounts of money stashed in my future Swiss Bank Account, I can get creative. I will most likely start by hiring some heartless soul (like maybe Erik) to be my personal assassin (Chris, as a ninja, would be a valuable asset in this department as well, despite his regrettable possession of an actual heart), and probably there will also be some explosives involved (Austin can be my pyrotechnics advisor; Nate can help too, if he isn't too prudish to assist me in my mercenary scheme). With cunning and the right employees, it shouldn't take long to kill everyone in power; in other words, everyone who would stand in my way as I ascend to total world domination!

III. Rise to power
I will then, with all the style and grace of me, casually yet firmly step forth to fill the vacuum so recently created by my own henchmen(and women)'s disposal of all recently-deceased political leaders 'round the globe. I will quickly establish a kill-all-dissenters policy, with the help of the crack team of spies and assassins (of whom, it is needless to say, all will be paid and rewarded quite handsomly) to whose help I shall then owe in part my lucrative position. Contrarily, all supporters will be immediately bestowed with tons of land, books, pets, and cupcakes, to demonstrate what a fabulous and incredibly benevolent dictator I am.

IV. Throw worldwide, neverending party
This final phase should be entirely self-explanatory :)

The fences surrounding greener pastures

Lately I've been really bugged by a certain phenomenon prevalent within/among humanity, which rears its hideous head in the form of people only wanting things they know they can't have, and not actually wanting them anymore once said objects of desire become readily available to them.

I do it. Everyone I know does it. Everyone I don't know does it too, to the very best of my understanding. What is wrong with us?

As I see it, the answer is as simple as it is ironical: this stems from our own insecurity. We want things we can't have because we can't believe that we could ever be worthy of them. Thus, if and when we get them, we assume there must be some sort of catch. I posit that the most highly likely explanation to our subconscious minds will nearly always default to "it must not be as great as I thought it was, if I of all people actually managed to obtain it." Essentially, then, our regard for that which was once-coveted by us, once had, tends to rapidly decline for little or no apparent reason. It seems irrelevant whether our view slides closer to or further from the truth about the thing—sometimes we placed it on an undeserving pedestal and we come to see it for what it really is, while other times we were right to think so highly of it and are being completely unfair to suddenly lose interest—either way, the phenomenon follows a similar modus operandi.

Religion (of various shapes and sizes) tends to take one of two opposing views on the human condition: either we completely suck, and we must somehow manage to win back the favor of the justly-livid god(s) in order to avoid some sort of unfathomably terrible punishment; or the reason humanity is evil is because we've been told that we're evil (most of the time, by some brand of religious order subscribing to the former school of thought) and if we started to realize our own potential, we could all be good again.

I think they're both true. We have certainly fallen far from our apparent former height, but in keeping with free will, there's only so much the gods can do to help us out with that if we're just going to sit around and sulk about it. The enemy seems to use shame as liberally as pride to keep us down; what's more, they're often found bizarrely intermingling within the same tortured soul. I cannot for the life of me remember where, but somewhere (that I've a feeling I should be able to easily recall) I heard/read an interchange that basically went like this...
Interlocutor 1: "Do you believe in God?"
Interlocutor 2: "Yes, but I'm not so sure he believes in me."
...I think that sums it up rather well. And, as always, if anyone knew or cared about Aristotle's Golden Mean concept, maybe we'd have a slightly less crazy collective to call humanity at large; but then, who knows.

God = God = God, so what's the with opposites thing?

Justice and mercy are basically diametrically opposed, and God is both of them, apparently. That hidden conundrum is not exactly what this post is going to be about, but it is. I've decided the issue I'm thinking about traces back to this very distinction, and maybe it's just that I and most of my associates are young and relatively dumb yet, but none of us have been able to quite figure it out, whenever we really get into the dichotomy.

I will now do something that is nigh-impossible for me and, rather than delve into that fascinating tangent, stick to the topic at hand (despite the fact that I've yet to actually introduce said topic properly; here goes).

Upon reflecting and trying to lower my freaking defenses because I need to do a little spiritual calibration, which is another story, tonight...I was listening to some music and trying to coax my suppressed emotions out of the depths of their hibernation or whatever; "Wedding Dress" by Derek Webb was a pretty obvious choice, and as I was listening to it I was contemplating the imagery and the realities of (a) God's love, and (b) my idiocy. The blatant husband-wife comparison led my thoughts to the book of Hosea, and out of nowhere comes this mental image of me, as I sung along "I am a whore, I do confess..." and God replying, in some compassionate tone, "Don't call yourself that."

There's this constant tension in me between self-loathing and self-righteousness. Consequently, God—if I can even say such a thing—has got his work cut out for him. The full implication of the reply in my sudden mental image of dubious origin would have been something like... "no Heather, you're not a whore...it's not your fault; that is, not all your fault...to be sure, you're responsible for plenty by this time, but like most women who wind up living lives of ill-repute, you didn't choose this initially." Or that would be my best attempt at simplifying God's complicated, perfect-balance-between-justice-and-mercy response to the mess that is me; on the one hand, it's love and compassion and don't-worry-darling, but on the other there's a definite disappointed father (as though I of all people could mentally conjure a healthy version of that picture if my life depended on it) aspect, and I do have to in some sense (because well Jesus comes in at some point close to now) face what I've done and the matching fallout. It all makes my head spin.

Anyway, that information might be relevant; I started thinking, as I said, about Hosea. When I pictured God responding with pure compassion, as I also said, it was countered with the reminder that despite the (believe-it-or-not, appropriate) compassion, I was not (and never am) off the hook either. There's a book that's supposed to be a sort of retelling of Hosea, called Redeeming Love (by Francine Rivers). I read it in high school, and like every girl in high school, I certainly liked it quite a bit then, a fact which is nearly beside the point.

In the book, the girl who represents Gomer (people who name their daughter that are just asking for it, honestly) is totally a victim. The lines are clearly drawn; sweet innocent little girl who is essentially a miniature saint gets fucked over by the world—literally and figuratively. Handsome knight-in-shining-armor, whose last name just so happens to be Hosea, like the prophet (go figure) rides in on metaphorical steed to save the day. The lowering-of-her-defenses bit was relatively realistic. In the end, naturally, everything worked out.

The actual Bible story, if I remember, was a little less fairy-tale-esque, and the people involved in the drama were a far cry from these cherub-resembling characters of Rivers's. But maybe I'm being too cynical; who knows.

Everyone I know who's read Redeeming Love gushes about it to no end; but I haven't talked to anyone over the age of 25 who has read it, and all of them were women. In other words, their feedback is relatively worthless. It's either entirely emotional porn with Christianity sauce, or too close for comfort. In any event, I wonder if Francine Rivers focuses too much on mercy and too little on justice.

I wonder if I do.

This whole idea of needing spiritual calibration is from a combination of the books I've been reading as of late. Descent Into Hell and A Severe Mercy (which I finally had time to finish). I'm starting to get very uncomfortable with my sin, which unfortunately to my mind is inseperable with my utter inability to accept my general state of imperfection. But I do know that despite my best intentions, I'm afraid that as soon as I'm comfortable with the ideas of love and forgiveness, I'll sort of go prodigal knowing I'll be welcomed home again at the end. I'm terrified of that happening. I know myself too well to trust myself with any sort of quest for righteousness that involves freedom. What was God thinking when he gave me the ability to act as I pleased???

I guess at heart, I know that I don't really want God; or not as much as I should; I do, but I don't. There's this rebellious part of me. I suppose that would be what Paul called the flesh; then there's the spirit and this cognitive dissonance would be the constant battle between them, which he also speaks of at some length.

Either way, tonight as I waited for Nate and read my book, I was overcome by the impulse to prostrate myself on the floor of his apartment and pray for my salvation. I believe the responsible idea, which proverbially knocked the wind out of me, was in a letter from C.S. Lewis to Sheldon Vanauken (a frequent occurance among this book's pages), that Heaven and Hell are retroactive and they have to do with the overall state of a person's soul. Then I remembered that no soul can reach heaven by itself. Don't I claim to believe in Jesus and all that? So I don't want to forget or fall away or whatever, because then I never truly believed it at all. I guess I'm afraid "the flesh" will win out in me. I don't like it. I wish it would go away. But it's part of me, if it's what's being purged...I don't want to be holy. I want to have fun. And evidently the two are mutually exclusive. Even though I sometimes hate Paul, I really wish I could talk to Paul right now.

Well, this has been a very ADD post, hasn't it? I mostly just had to get these thoughts out, and they're still not organized. Please feel free to share any input.

Dualism?!?

I now officially have a virtual machine running Windows XP from within OSX.

Why would I bother to do such a thing?

...because I wanted a stupid Zune and I had to find a way to use their stupid Mac-incompatible software, so yes, I set up a VM for the sole purpose of purchasing an mp3 player that's the exact same thing as an ipod—with the exception of its slightly more aesthetically-pleasing design, and the fact that their version of overpriced miniature remote control actually allows you to remotely control your device; quasi-sensical functionality is always a nice feature to have. Yes well, I often seem to get sold on unnecessary details that I simply can't live without once I hear of them.

But this whole setting-up-a-partition-on-my-hard-drive-which-is-intentionally-deluded-into thinking-it's-an-entirely-separate-computer-and-then-installing-Windows-on-it shindig has been quite fun. Somehow my hatred for Microsoft neither prevents me from purchasing their video game systems nor mp3 players nor being fascinated with having a whole nother computer inside my computer, which is indubitably a far greater thing than sliced bread ever was. And possibly the best part of all? I can play pinball again!

Special thanks to Austin, Tony, and lifehacker.com. I couldn't have done it without you. At least, not in as much style.

Bleakness

Creation or production

There is so much to do...I feel like I'm on a giant conveyor belt running in the opposite direction all while trying to ring up groceries and send them swiftly behind me to the bagging stations. My calves are numb and my hair is somehow limp yet flying up in my way at the same time. My hands and feet are ice, but my arms and legs are on fire. The list of things I have to get done before I can fall into bed without hyperventilating descends upon me like a swarm of flesh-eating locusts, from storm cloud to buzzing reality and not even a single raindrop to break the crushing humidity.

I feel like not myself. I feel like I'm standing still but my energy is going somewhere. I feel like I'm missing everything that gets thrown at me and like I weigh seven hundred pounds all of a sudden, but it's all air...heavy, dense, humid air that's slowly suffocating me.

Time stops mattering. My vision blurs and everything else blurs with it. Who am I? What am I doing and what for? What was life like outside of this? My homework is all going to slowly turn to gibberish, and it will be scalding hot to the touch, but I'll barely feel it. You know what? I don't want this to end, because the reality I'll have to face when I stop having to function in survival mode might not want to face me. But that's never stopped anything before.

What I need is a strength that is not mine.

Disposition

An obviously sagacious person (I know not who) once said: "Better to be a fool in the company of the wise than a wise man in the company of fools."

I often catch myself thinking about this quote and how true it rings, as I play both roles (which, considering my limited 'wisdom' is rather sad, I think); however, it unfortunately is still quite exhausting sometimes to always find oneself the fool. Keeping such talented company tends to make me feel insecure.

There's nothing good about insecure. Humility is one thing, but save Christ I'm not entirely sure if any human being has ever come close to possessing an ounce of it. There are the proud and then there are the modest or shy and at best we waver and falter close to that Golden Mean, losing our balance and falling to one edge again and again.

Last night I was talking to a friend, and I said to him that I think I'm just as afraid of being amazing as I am of being worthless. As Nelson Mandela never once said, but for some reason people seem to think he did, "Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate; our greatest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us." I'm not sure who really said it, but either way I almost like this quote. I don't like the use of superlatives or the dismissal of our feelings towards the evil in us; I think humans have a tremendous capacity for both good and evil, and I think we are and rightly ought to be terrified of both.

But we also oughtn't be unsure of our good--maybe that's it. What I really think is that we're afraid to believe we're anything, lest we find our hopes become subject to the unmercifully cruel force known as gravity. Our light frightens us because we want so desperately to believe it can shine brightly enough to be perceived, but as despairingly fear that we have no business thinking ourselves capable of such things. What if that was different? I think the world would be a better place. I think a lot of the battle between good and evil involves people succumbing to the belief that this is all they'll ever amount to, that they're not good enough to be good so they might as well be bad.

Thank you for listening to Heather's random thoughts of the evening. Tune in next week for something completely different.