| Thoughts and Ventings... |
| O6/10/02 I've discovered that you can't trust anyone to keep your confidence unless they are a priest or a psychiatrist. Since I am not Catholic, I have to pay exceedingly expensive fees (money - which I don't really have, mind you) to talk to someone without having to worry about it getting around to people with whom I choose not to divulge details of my personal life. Grrr... O5/01/02 So, to move or not to move?????? Should I hold on to my safety net after college and stay under my mother's roof? Or, should I wipe the slate clean--go some place new. I've been thinking about Oregon. I have family out there. So, it wouldn't be COMPLETELY scary. Just mostly scary. :) Any thoughts? Email me. 04/14/02 Sing me a Song of peace, oh my soul! Give me the comfort I so longeth for. Strengh to push on To fight for one more breath. But if it be my last, Still let me have the chance To fix my compass; Or, at least Learn to follow Your direction. For so long, my heart has bled -- Drop by drop, Slowly drying out my insides from within, Until I felt no more Save the harshness of the world. I hunger and thirst for my ancient self. The part of me that knew I was worth Infinite wealth. I stumble and fall at every turn. The incline never recedes. My energy fades to black. Parched, famished, and near death I can do nothing Save kneel and pray On my knees. -Adrienne Zimmern "Near Death" (04/14/02) 04/09/02 I actually planned on going to bed early tonight and I couldn't sleep. Why is that? My brain won't turn off, and yet, I can't seem to use all that extra brain activity and focus it towards my studies. Anyway, I'm sitting here listening to a song called "Breathing" by Lifehouse. Here are the lyrics. It gives me hope. The radio plays this as a secular song, but let's face it. Lifehouse is a Christian band, and if you listen to the lyrics as if they were being spoken to God, it's really moving. 04/08/02 April is the cruelest month, breading Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. ~T.S. Eliot "The Burial of the Dead" (1922) |
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