A statement necklace makes all the difference in an outfit
I have a weird relationship with my pens…
I put a great amount of care in selecting them and have a tendency to grow a strange emotional attachment to them.
I usually pick a favorite and stick with using it until it’s completely done for.
Nothing’s better than a pen that writes smoothly, unfailingly, 100% of the time. A trusty pen is something that is often under appreciated.
When I lose a favorite pen, it’s like game over. I don’t think anyone could understand. For example, I recently bought a bunch of pens from Taiwan (pens from Asia are the best- they get me) and I thought I lost my favorite white pen… I thought I left it in Shaw, but found myself extremely disappointed when it was nowhere to be found. To my delight, it magically reappeared a few days later… (it was in my backpack hahahahoho). I seriously felt like celebrating and writing a status on facebook to share the good news, but also realized that seriously no one would care. ;)
Those awful ball-point pens that are unreliable in writing smoothly annoy me like no other. Having to scribble indefinitely hoping that the pen will work the way it’s supposed to is frustrating. I just wanna shake my head and ask it, “why? why do you call yourself a pen if you can’t even write properly?” And if I find myself using a pen like that or with ink that runs chunky, I just gotta dispose of it in the trash. Rather than leaving it around for another person to use and get let down like I did, I’d rather save them the trouble and end its existence all together.
So that’s why I like my pens and have a strong dislike for pen stealers. And I’m writing this all because an Asian fob stranger just asked me to borrow some paper and a pen. Without even thinking, I gave him one of my nicer ones, risking never seeing it again.
Thankfully, he returned it to me :)
k… it’s almost 12:40 PM now. Time for my ENG class…
Study break. (Not that I’ve been productive thus far…)
What comes out of your mouth is ultimately a reflection of what’s in your heart. Sometimes, speaking about things (or in my case writing about them) is the only way I can come to make sense of things. For my mind to make that connection with my heart and for there to be a mutual understanding that exists, I need to see it visibly in words.
Maybe that’s one reason why I take words so seriously. I realize that this is also one of my greatest areas of weakness. There’s this assumed trust I put in others’ words to be true that leaves little room for grace in understanding the faults that we all have. When someone speaks words of encouragement or says things that are needed, I place a tremendous value in the edification and support it brings. But in the same way, a slip of the tongue (whether it’s in crude jokes, saying things you didn’t mean, being spoken badly of, etc.) has the ability to crush me from the inside. It sounds absolutely ridiculous- pitiful, even just to say it.
How do we speak of our parents? Our education? Our friends, roommates, and siblings? Our spouse (if applicable)? Of other men or women? Our sin? Our God?
What I don’t want is to become jaded towards others’ words. To not have the ability to trust others and to be trusted. But it seems that protecting my heart from what words I do and don’t want to let impact me isn’t so simple.
Is it so much to ask for humanity to be true to their words? To be more mindful of the things they may potentially regret saying? What I’m asking for, at least in this earth, seems to be impossible. Because it’s been tainted with the message that words can be without cost, but that’s really just for our own convenience.
It’s scary almost… that the power in the light-hearted, stupid things we say have the ability to nullify the things that ARE intended to be wholesome and true. I dunno, I’m conflicted.
I remember this one year at MCKC where Pastor Austin Cho was our guest speaker. He was the first Old Testament scholar I’d ever met and I believe it was at that point that I began to grow a love for the OT…
It’s strangely fascinating - the more I read the OT…
-The more His character in all of His glory becomes undeniable
-The more my sin becomes exposed
-The more the meaning of His grace deepens
-The more I come to love the Lord
and all this is perfected through the NT.
I’ve been reading the Psalms of David and it always surprises me (in a strange, expected kind of way) how many parallels can be drawn. The heights and the depths of which king David walked with the Lord never ceases to amaze me :O
How long this inner war has been raging on without me even realizing! The enemy speaks in his native tongue of lies, provoking me to anger and despair. I find myself physically, spiritually, and emotionally exhausted at times where I shouldn’t be because I’ve already exerted so much energy into the battles that take place in my heart and mind. These battles against lies- against memories of the past that lead me to distrust in the present… and this war against the devil needs to end.
I remember P. Austin speaking about relationship between sheep and their Shepherd… and how the Shepherd knows His sheep and they know His voice. The sheep are comforted by the sound of the tapping of His rod as they lay down and rest. They know their protector is near at all times.
This rod that the good Shepherd carries strikes down the predators before they can even think about attacking. It directs the sheep away from poisonous plants and from falling off steep cliffs. Every day, each sheep passes under the rod for inspection.They pass under His authority, protection, and discipline and know that He is good. The Shepherd knows the sheep that are His and those that aren’t.
He breaks the leg of the sheep who is prone to wander and leave the flock so that it may lean on/depend on Him, and taste and see that He is the faithful provider.
Christ, be my victor. I am tired, weak, and broken… I’m sick of wrestling against the lies that live in my memories. Help me to love when it seems impossible to…
“Mad was the last kid I saw and he was asleep. He was 3 months old and they put him in my arms and he stayed asleep and they put him in the bath and he stayed asleep and I thought he was narcoleptic or something. Then he opened his eyes and just stared at me for the longest time and I just stared at him and I started crying and he smiled. And it wasn’t that he smiled that he liked me, it was just that I hadn’t held children in my life and I was always considered so dark and I always had so many things that made me feel like maybe I shouldn’t be somebody’s mom because certainly the world has an opinion of me and I’m not so sure about myself and am I gonna be the best mom? So the fact that this little kid seemed at ease gave me the courage to feel like I could make him happy. And so we became a family right then.” — Angelina Jolie
though You call me, still i fear
though You are faithful, still i distrust
though You speak, still i ignore
though You love, still i hate.
how wretched am I, human.
bound by time, space, language, Earth.
learning to unbelong and belong at the same time.
Child I came, child I become, child I am.
yet what hope I have; just help me believe,
We are family.