april 29th. two thousand nine.

"I talk about love, forgiveness, social justice; I rage against American materialism in the name of altruism, but have I even controlled my own heart? The overwhelming majority of time I spend thinking about myself, pleasing myself, reassuring myself, and when I am done there is nothing to spare for the needy. Six billion people live in this world, and I can only muster thoughts for one. Me."

Donald Miller

april 27th. two thousand nine part II

This just further illustrates how lady nature and man, are one in the same.

april 27th. two thousand nine.

Lady nature; I learn so much from her. I find myself obsessed. I wake up each day antsy to see her. I emerge myself in her, either by accidental or purposeful cause. I think we're so much like her. In fact, we are made of the very same elements. The subconscious maps that are at work in our heads harmonize with her daily craft. Seeds. They're little people, I think. When seeds are sown they have the ability to fruitless, and the ability to produce a fruitful harvest. I think it can be broken down even smaller too. Seeds can not only be little fruitless and fruitful people, but they can be fruitless and fruitful acts of a person. I yearn to sow good and fruitful seeds in my life. Not to just provide a beautiful sanctuary for me to rest in in the future. But more importantly, to provide a peaceful sanctuary for others to rest in as well. I find more joy out of serving people. I think for many months I have served other people, but with an underlining motive. A motive of selfishness.. And so I've been in a funk wondering how I am still so ill at rest when I've been living the same life for years. I've had a secret shift of motives. Pride took ahold of everything and started breaking me down. I've come to a conclusion of this, and have reached a breaking point. And thank G/d, literally, that I've been humbled...just a tad bit. I wish to be humbled even more. To be deformed into an unattractive being. One who stops holding her head so high. One who ceases to convulse up empty words. One who quits looking in mirrors. MIRRORS. I wish they would all leave this earth. They only have one purpose: for you to look at yourself. To wallow in your looks and vice versa. I've heard so many stories of friends going to third world countries and them bringing cameras with them. The kids go nuts over them because for many, its the first time they've ever seen themselves. I wish this place were the same. The buildings of artificiality would plummet to the ground, leaving real worth and beauty able to come into its own. Mirrors. Mirrors are an illustration of this self-seeking society. To be bluntly honest, they're an illustration of myself. That sickens me...very much. I express many of my thoughts not only for others to read, but for me to meditate on. Fabricating random, chaotic mind vomit keeps me at peace.

april 22nd. two thousand nine.

april 16th. two thousand nine.

In need of a new place to rest my head.

april 6th. two thousand nine.

.

fadeoraded

april 4th. two thousand nine.

Waiting sixteen hours: sleep-deprived and anxious. Sitting in gate a01, fervently studying the people around me. A lady of poise and elegance, the finest of linens and leathers bathed her legs, arms and feet. Her stick straight corn flowered hair flattering a face adorned by raspberry pink lips. An italian dame she was returning to her home in Florence. She gave me a hope for what I was about to encounter. Firenze, unsurpassable to any location I have ever been. Every structure, every street, and every person carrying out individuality. I love this place. Every single thing here has blessed me significantly. And not only that but the presence of a friend that is more dear to me than anyone. Us sitting on the steps of Piazza Duomo, catching up on past life experiences, filled with contempt and heartbreak. We relate and sigh in bliss as we drink our guinness'--well her cider, me guinness of course. All of the people here are so pleasant. People are out for hours on the cobblestone streets and there is not a worry in the world for me. I feel safe and at home. This is where I need to be. Its suits the way I've come into being. The way my mind works compliments the way the city works. Its the city of rebirth...and this is my rebirth. Timing could not be more precise than this. I want to get a job here and never come back. A fantasy, but possible if really desired. Leaving for Rome next week. Then from there, Amsterdam.

arrivederci amici

april 1st. two thousand nine.

Tomorrow I will set out on a pursuit. A pursuit to leave what is restful and comfortable. A pursuit to perceive myself. Not to find myself, for I have always been constant, but to be content in myself from a new perspective. One that is not distracted. One that is not pursuing a lost cause, such as a chasing after a relationship, lifestyle, talent or moral. I count those things meaningless now. I accept the molding that it did, and I am moving on. To more wholesome motives. My anxious eyes are set ahead on new surroundings. I desire for them to humble me. I hope that the culture captures a new part of me, the searching one. I aspire to be an appreciator, and not be appreciated. To see, and not be seen. To listen, and not be listened to. To understand, and not be understood. To love, and not be loved. To encourage, and not be encouraged. I know this pursuit will be the first substantial step in doing so.