with brevity

"I read all your blog posts but I still cannot wrap my finger around how you became who you are."

leave of absence

i feel as though i am wasting my life. nothing i do with my time seems as though it counts or matters to any end. i don't even care. i spend 80% of my life at a job doing work i don't give a crap about, nor respect, and am beginning to increasingly hate. what's even worse is that the rest of my life is also dictated by that 80%, physically, and via time constraints.   ............................. the sacrifice is not worth it, but it's necessary, so i am tied down. i truly hate being tied down. but i'm sure God is teaching me something. and that's that. actually yes, i am: the importance of loving your job, for whatever reason, because you will be spending 80% of your life there.

anyway. i have purposely not written for a while because i really hated my last entry. i thought about it, and not only did i think about a bunch of people who i care about who proved me wrong, but it was just stupid and full of generalizations. in short, i regretted posting it. and that regret made me not want to say anything anymore because i realized, just as i spoke (in that entry, ironically) about influencing others, i didn't want to influence anybody for the worse, with my words. and i don't feel like i have anything to offer these days. i'm clueless, people.

it's like writing in here has been my way of offering a little part of myself to the world, and i just don't feel like doing that anymore (for the time being). there is nothing to offer. i've never had to think about what i wanted to write about, or "save" blog ideas. i just wrote what was on my mind. well, these days there is nothing there. apparently. that's a lie. but there is nothing i feel like saying. here, at least. i'm tired. i've noticed the direct correlation between my happiness level and tiredness level.

i'll leave with last night's dream and some lyrics:
i'm at a retreat. it's a mixture of people i know from all arenas of my life. my dad calls me, and tells me he will be coming to sing in front of everyone. i, confused, hang up, and see him enter with a guitar. i am embarassed. he goes up to the podium, looks in the crowd for me, grabs the mic, and says, "seung-joo?" i wave, and he calls me up to sit on the stage. so i hesitantly walk up there, not knowing what to expect. i sit. he turns to me, and begins to sing a praise song. it's a praise song, but i know he's really essentially serenading me, because he wants me to know he loves me. again, embarassed, i'm surprised to find that everyone in the room has their arms up, worshipping, crying, being moved. i'm glad that nobody thinks my dad, or the situation, is awkward. my dad turns to face me, and is singing with his back to everyone else. i know that he is really facing the cross hanging on the wall behind me. none of this moves my heart. i, unlike everyone else, am not crying, or even deeply touched. i'm simply relieved it's not awkward, and more surprised that my dad is even doing this. then in my dream i consciously realized that, my dad was really representing my Father. and i still just sat there, trying to wrap my mind around this, with a heart that did not feel much. even as He kept singing. i woke up, and nothing changed. i had to get ready for work.

then You come crashing in,
like the realest thing
trying my best to understand,
all that Your love can bring
oh, half of my heart's got a grip on the situation,
half of my heart takes time
half of my heart's got a right mind to tell You that
i can't keep loving You, oh with half of my heart.
Your faith is strong, but i can only fall short for so long
down the road, later on, i will hate that i never gave more to You,
than half of my heart.
half of my heart is a shotgun wedding to a bride with a paper ring
when i'm meant for a wedding that will overwhelm everything
but i can't stop loving You, i can't stop loving You,
i can't stop loving You, oh with half of my heart.

so i'll leave to go find the rest. yes, john mayer, i agree, ONLY when it comes to Him, that anything less than 'i love you,' is lying.

things

this morning, i was willing to move from this xanga to either joiedevivre.blogspot.com, or joiedevivre.tumblr.com. unfortunately, both are already taken......... by people who haven't written for a really long time. i wish i could message them and say, hey! do you mind changing your userid? cuz i really, really want yours, and i write way more often than you do, so the blog would go to better use. ...but i'm not gonna do that. anyway.

i am purposely refraining from really writing in here. why? because i'm tired of myself. a few days ago, i contemplated privatizing all of my entries, but i was too lazy, because you have to do it one-by-one. but impersonal things i can write about:

i've finally decided that fashion is truly an art. i've been a mall rat the past couple of days (not buying anything though) so i've been doing a lot of observing about clothes, and it all comes down to this--people care about their attire for one (or two) of two reasons: they care what people think about them, OR they are very visual people to whom presentation is very important. i think the second reason is underrated, as most people who shop a lot, have a lot of clothes, or dress well, are judged for those very things. i mean, besides the fact that you could use that money to probably help save a life or build a home, i really think there is nothing wrong with this. (i'm not making a snide remark--it's simply true. angelina jolie spends millions of dollars on herself/her family, but also spends millions on charity. i think it's about finding a balance between giving cheerfully from your heart, but also exercising your freedom to spend how you want on what you want, with mindfulness and a good conscience being both a guide and a barometer). actually, i guess wwjd might be better. buuut the problem with that is that, i think the burden of giving perfectly and fully (i.e. being broke) would make you feel very burdened or become legalistic, so unless you're a saint, then... refer back to that paranthetical phrase.

anyway, obviously i care what people think about me. duh. but, the second reason is just as legit. (feel free to disagree). it's like when you appreciate an artpiece, whether it be a sculpture, photograph, painting... for whatever reason you like it, whether it be an emoted feeling or sense, it's undeniably connected to its aesthetics. there is no way of getting around that, and i think it's the same with clothes. when you are dressing yourself, you're trying to construct a "piece", or "outfit", that you enjoy because it looks good, or makes you feel however, or shows that you feel however, and most of all, it appeals to your visuals.

there are plenty of people who don't care at all about fashion or clothes. i'd guess that these are also the people who don't really care too much about their personal space, like how they decorate their room or home, and that they are also the people who wouldn't pick an art exhibit or museum as their saturday afternoon activity of choice, or who wouldn't describe themselves as thoroughly appreciative of the fine arts. which is all perfectly fine. and maybe it's even more simple than that--maybe they're just not visual people. i'm just describing the other side. and it makes sense because most people you see at fine arts events are dressed very well or interestingly. they are at the event, and take care in how they are dressed, for the same reason. (again, feel free to disagree).

i don't even know why i wrote this almost editorial like defense of people who care about fashion. maybe because it annoys me when, just because you can seemingly barrage someone because of what they care about or how they live their life, people do. and admittedly, there is a high correlation between fashionistas and superficiality, clotheshorses and ignorant spoiled brats, but hey, it's not 100%. am i actually trying to defend myself? ...mm no because i'm not a fashionista. haha. i wish! :P

anyway, it's interesting because i used to also judge people who spent so much money, esppppecially in this regard, after i came back from uganda in 2007. the fact remains that clothes, or whatever material object, are fleeting, useless... in the end, who will effing care about what someone wore? there are a gazillion more important things in life. i still do get really annoyed by people who spend mindlessly on stupid things, IF, they are not also generous to things that could use their money. please be mindful of your spending. but i guess with a few years and a second trip comes more balance, and i realize... honestly, you just can't judge anybody. freaking let people be. and just love them as they are, and do what you do. if you think the way you live, and the way you think are so great, then just keep doing it, and if it's worth catching on to for whatever reason, people will notice it for themselves. we are constantly influencing each other, every moment of our lives. i'm influencing you, as you read, or have been reading my blog. the very thought of you reading this, is influencing me.

hopefully, let us influence each other for good. if you are someone who someone would call a bad influence, shame on you. you freaking need to check yourself before you wreck yourself. hahaha you like how i say that right after my little schpeal up there? no, but i'm serious. it's so important. do you want to be wack?? no, you don't. so be a good influence. the end.

batter my heart

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, overthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurped town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.

Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

... word, John Donne.

let's redirect this.

Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  -- 1 Peter 5:8

"I am not just speaking metaphorically or poetically when I refer to the enemy accusing us. Each of us, Christians included, is oppressed directly and specifically by the enemy in the way I am describing. This attack uses the sentences and voices we are familiar with from the past. We feel as if we are simply speaking to ourselves in our heads. And this is the enemy's first deception: 'I am not here. It's just you struggling with all these things.' Many of us live our whole lives being defeated by this accusation. And indeed, deep in our hearts, the anxiety, shame, and self-contempt we often feel are like the attack of a roaring lion no matter what calmness or other personality device we learn to cover it with on the outside. We hide the lion's roar because he has convinced us that it is just us and we would be roundly scorned if we were to admit these things to others.

When the adversary is involved, the intensity of feelings provoked by the everday occurrences of life can be compared to gasoline poured on a fire. The fire would burn (i.e., we would hurt) even without the gasoline, but its additional fuel totally consumes the kindling of our souls in an inferno of shame and contempt. We feel ashamed for and contemptuous of ourselves as well as scornful of the people who have 'caused' us such pain. They literally become our enemies that must be appeased or defeated. Meanwhile, the real enemy who caused this conflagration sits unnoticed in the background, full of glee. The whole experience is somewhat like being slapped in the back of the head in the school hallway. You turn around to find a boy next to you and slap him back, while the real culprit is already yards away, enjoying the conflict he has instigated."

the game's over.