The Lesser of Two Weevils

I read a very amazing and very close to home post by someone I know...and it's very much where I'm at right now. Go read it, and enjoy:

http://outoftheair.wordpress.com/2011/12/03/a-is-good-but-b-is-good-too/

Isn't it amazing how God can bring light into a situation where you understand nothing? I'm at quite a crossroads in my life - I have to choose what comes next, and I'm very unsure of what to do. A person told me that what she believes is that God has set many paths before me, and no matter what I choose, He will bless it. I love that He has done that, but...it makes it harder for me to choose. It's part of becoming an adult, I suppose, but it's still hard. It would indeed be easier if He showed me just one clear path, but again, refer to that post above.

I will simply console myself with the fact that no matter what I do, I will yet have a Savior, and that He won't change his view of me on what I choose. He's teaching me to lose control, and to step into things that I never have before. This season of my life, learning, changing...it's been hard, but it's been good, too. So many things never would have happened but for a silent season of my life - a season of hardship, a season that seems directionless. I'm by no means out of that season, but I want to embrace it with all my heart. In all my uncertainty, it gives me a chance to draw closer to Jesus, and to learn to lean on him.

To all you who know what you're doing - I applaud you. Only don't forget who put that idea or dream in your heart, and the path before you.

~Fumble

To Sleep; Perchance to Dream

It's a hard thing, to know that you set yourself up for disappointment, time after time - and to know that you are disappointing. I dream my impossible dreams, and find myself in the midst of the fragrance of crushed hope. You might wonder why I even bother dreaming, and I would have to wonder along with you. There is little hope in dreams - but I cannot forsake what I know my heart to long for. To dream for something is to, for a short moment, have that thing, if only in your mind. So, even if dreaming is only for a moment, I will keep on.

Perhaps you would understand my obsession with dreaming if you knew how much a part of me it was. For a period of time - perhaps a year - I lived to dream. My days were monotonous and long, and my only escape was to dream. So, I would survive the day, and hasten to sleep. At that time in my life, dreaming was better than being aware - because awareness hurts. Awareness reminds us of our faults, hits us in a place that hurts beyond other hurts. I don't desire to be perfect...but to be good? Even at one, small thing, to outshine others? It's a hope that will forever be crushed. Hope is irrational. So is dreaming.

But I won't wake from the dream - even if disappointment is all I find - because to dream...to hope...this is all I know.

"For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently."
~Romans 8:24-25

Yes, hope can be disappointed, time and time again. Hope can grow faint - but it is still hope. So I will continue to aspire to hope, hope to dream, dream to aspire. Why? Because I want to wake up and find that reality is better than my dreams.

~Fumble

Time Enough

Sometimes, it's fun to take life at a fast pace - say 1.5x. But sometimes...it's just a tad much. School is much like living at 1.5x, whereas summer, to me, is more like normal, or 1x. After too much 1x, it's hard to get back into the rhythm of 1.5x, but once you do, it's rather catchy. There lies the problem - had you ever tried listening to something fast, then slowly? It's agony, listening to notes that used to take a mere split second drag on for what seems like hours. If you're used to living quickly, then it's nigh on impossible to slow down to normalcy.

The change is hard, yes...but most often, it's good. When I'm speeding on down the road, enjoying speed, I forget how I love to reach my arm out the window and pretend to fly, or the teasing pull of the air in my hair, whipping it into my eyes and stinging them. I forget how I love to drive slowly along the streets, noting each tree and house, and enjoying how unique each is.

Maybe that's why I love autumn so much...it's a time of change, but it's slow and tangible. It doesn't happen overnight, and yet somehow it creep up on you. I walk my paths, the leaves falling across my way, the wind caressing the same leaves, urging them to let go of all they've ever known, assuring them that the fall is not painful; that they will guide them.

How simple, how pleasurable it would be, to be a falling leaf, crossing the sky, then falling to rest gently and skittishly on the ground, 'til the wind chose to guide me farther, in whirling eddies in the streets, or joined with many others and serving to cushion children as they lay on me. Or, to serve a great honor, and be taken up by a child, and become part of a collection, chosen to show my beauty for years to come.

Ah, yes...when I am moving at 1.5x, I forget what it is to live simply, and to take joy in that existence. I forget how I love God, and the wonders He works upon the world at the change of seasons. I forget the change that He wants to work in my heart, even as the cool wind sweeps in and changes the season.

But He works, and is faithful to complete His work.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for ever activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

What does the worker gain from his toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil - this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere Him." ~Ecclesiastes 3:1-14

There is a time to live in 1.5x, and a time to settle in 1x.

~Fumble

Remember the Past

Right and wrong. How can what seems to be a simple concept become such a beast to understand? And what if there is no right, and only wrong on either side of the equation? In the Dakota War of 1862, neither side was in the right. Certainly, the Indians committed great savagery, and I'm not justifying it, but consider what was going on between the Europeans and the Indians at that time. Just as there was savagery on the part of the Native Americans, there was also a "refined" savagery - if you can call slowly killing a people through starvation and debt. One way or the other, the whites would have been the death of the Indians - and sooner or later, the Indians would decide that enough was enough and retaliate before another blow could hit them. The impulsiveness of four braves would cause the deaths of hundreds - both white and Indian.

Each side had their reasons; their "right", but you ask me who was right, and who was wrong? There is no answer. There is no gray. History is oft a hard lesson; why? Because we learn that we are not infallible; the human race, whatever skin color, will ultimately fail. We've seen it again and again in history - as it is said: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."(George Santayana) In my words - if you refuse to learn from what has been proven to happen, if you refuse to believe that the heart of humanity is depravity - then you refuse to realize that you will repeat it.

Reaching into a fire will cause pain and burns, but to be so foolish as to reach for it once again?

God is our only hope. Why?

Because He's the only one who can stop our nation from going to Hell - and staying there.

~Fumble

The Last Laugh

Why is it that every time I think I start to understand something, I end up more confused than ever? Is everything in life going to have that extra facet, just around the corner, that stumps me and sends me right back to the beginning? I mean, really, what's the deal? God, couldn't you make anything simple enough for me to understand? But then again...I suppose if I really understood things, I'd take them for granted, and then eventually I would have more losses...but I take things for granted anyway; my friends, my family, church...I even take God for granted. It's so very hard knowing that I am the heart of every problem I have. God has never been the source of my problems; it's always been me trying to excuse my behavior, my thoughts, my inclinations.

Fortunately, He's always there to help me back on my feet, after I cripple myself. Honestly, the human race is so self-destructive...before we can ever get ahead, we hamstring ourselves with our ideals and fancies, when God has a simple, relatively "easy" plan to follow. All He asks is that we cast everything aside and follow Him, and only Him, with nothing between us, or any such. It strikes me that it really should be easy. In fact, it's laughably easy - at least, until I try to do it. But then, in come all the places where I've compromised myself, all the things that I've put higher on my priority list than God...it's a painful realization, that I have so very many things that I "love" more than my Savior.

And yet it's so hard to give them up. Sometimes I feel as if the only way I could ever truly give everything up for Him is if I was at the point of Death, and understanding the regrets I had never understood before, and He brought me back. It seems as if my impossibly hard heart would need a radical change like that. Otherwise, it's too easy to slip back into every habit, every pattern of living I had hoped would have been left behind.

Truly, the only thing between God and myself is, indeed, myself. To die to oneself...it's a hard thing, but necessary. To give up everything and follow Him, daily taking up my cross...I know that the only way that will happen is if God gives me grace to do so. It'll be a choice I have to make eventually.

Either way, God will have the last laugh.

I can only hope I'll be laughing with him.

~Fumble

Safety

Hopeless.

It's a feeling that's become all too familiar to me...one I live with daily. I try to make things right, but it seems my effort is wasted. Or, rather, it's not wasted, it just causes things to move in the opposite direction.

Ever been in a situation you know you can't get out of? Then you'll know exactly how I feel right now. I feel literally and figuratively trapped. It's not a pleasant feeling...

Hopeless. Helpless.

No matter what I am right now, it's "less". School will start in a few weeks, and I will be able to escape through that, at least a little. And I don't have to agree to anything - the only contact will be the inevitable, and it doesn't have to be that much.

Don't hate me for wanting to back out of this. If friendship is all about being the same and doing the same things and depending so heavily on the other person that if one of you goes down, the other follows, then I refuse to have friendship. If that is how it is "supposed" to be, then I sincerely hate it. I will run away and hide.

Why?

Because I can't deal with it, truthfully. Every attempt drives me further back, cuts me away. There are much better ways to spend sleepless nights. I can't handle it, and I know it full well.

I've had to be very good at hiding. If you're good at hiding, then so-called "relationships" cannot hurt you. You simply don't get close enough for it. It's kept me safe all my life, if a tad lonely.

But I can deal with lonely. I'd much rather have no close relationships if they had to be so close they cause asphyxiation. I can walk my path alone, and never have any regrets.

I can stand loneliness so long as I'm safe.

~Fumble

The Big Deal

I would hate to think that we do things because we feel bound by some "sense of duty"; that we feel we should do something because we "owe" it to someone. That would be finding the cure for cancer because you had "nothing better to do", not because it would save millions of lives. What is the point in doing something if it is merely some strand of conscience that tells us it's the "right" thing? Why should what we do be determined by something as unfeeling as whether it's "right" or "wrong"? What if what is "wrong" according to society is truly "right" as from God's point of view?

I just can't get past the fact that the only reason we do some things is because we feel some sense of duty to do it, that we owe someone something, therefore we will do something for them. Do something for them, that is, out of a desire to not owe them, to not have some duty to them. Shouldn't we do something for someone without a reason as shallow as that? Should it not be out of love, which is an action, not a feeling? Shouldn't service be done with no higher aim in mind, then to serve someone without something in return? Shouldn't what we give be without attached strings?

How easily I fail at the simplest of tasks. How selfish I am, daily.

What's the big deal?

~Fumble

Acceptance

A little hope. Even when the task is a monster, and too large to tackle comfortably, there's a little hope. Even if he's running farther and farther ahead of me, there's hope. Why? Well, I have legs, don't I? When someone runs away from you, what do you do? You chase after them, of course. You might be far ahead, but I'll chase you until I catch you.

After a wonderful weekend of some very close-to-home teachings, I feel as if I understand my heart a little better. Which is good, because it's hard to understand oneself. Do you realize how hard it is, in this god-forsaken culture, for someone to understand and love themselves? An actual love, that is, not some narcissistic vanity and misconception about one's worth. As a girl, I can say that, even though I've been brought up having things a lot of girls haven't had, I can say that there were times I looked in the mirror and absolutely abhorred myself. Now I'm learning to look and appreciate some things...and to love myself the way I was made to be. I'm not "beautiful" per se...I'd be the first to admit it; I'm not a fashion model or anything to be accoladed as such, but I'm not ape-ugly either. I'm not ugly, no, but I'm not astonishingly beautiful; I'm just...me. And it's fine to be just me...I like my eyes, my hair, my face...I'm kind of out of shape, but that's something that I can take care of.

It's important to understand and love yourself.

Why?

Because only then can you understand and love others.

~Fumblebee

Far Away Places

Why do I somehow think that people are interested in my life and my thoughts? I mean, I can't get off saying they don't have value, or I'm some sort of emo-drown-in-my-sadness-worthlessness person...but I can't really say that anyone other than myself, perhaps, sees any value in what I say. That, or the people who are seeing something simply refuse to talk. Ah well...

I've had many, many thoughts lately...there's no way I'll be able to fit all of them in a single blog post, the the point of my having a blog is sharing what I think when I think it's time to share it. I write down notes of what I'm thinking, so if I'm at a loss of what to talk about, I can always pull out my notes and make a post from that.

Funny, isn't it, how life seems to fly by when you're trying your hardest to take things slowly? I really, really want my summer to feel a lot longer, but the problem is, if I try to accomplish things, it'll go even faster, so I'm actually better off not trying...but where's the fun in that? Besides, if I'm not trying, I'd end up working without pay or something. I do enjoy working, but...it depends.

Wow. This is post number eighteen, and it's June. I've been posting for roughly two months, and fairly regularly. I'm proud of myself. Yes, it's only a small thing, but...I've got to be proud of something, no?

Here's a little something I wrote:

He's at a place I can't match...

Awe. Confusion. Longing. Loneliness. Jealousy...unwilling jealousy...a tad of sadness.

I want that.

No matter what I do, I can't catch up. I look at you and see a place I have yet to come to. It's very uncomfortable, very disconcerting...because I want to be there, to be with you...but it's not going to happen. What I feel, what I think, what I understand...it's not enough. And it never will be.

I feel rather alone. Not an unfamiliar feeling, but not necessarily a "good" one.

My thoughts on some things that have happened to a friend...I'm rather jealous of the place he's at with God, as it's a place I'd like to be, but...I don't completely understand myself yet, and I know it's not for me right now. I still can't help feeling this way, though. Happy, yet longing for something tangible, such as that.

It's not a very comforting emotion, jealousy...and it really isn't worth the guilt it brings.

I guess I still have some habits to break.

~Fumble

Family Ties

For once, I really need someone to talk to. And yet again, I have no one. I try not to unload all my problems onto other people, since they all obviously have their problems as well, but...sometimes it's hard alone. It's easy to be wrong when you're alone...I'm convinced that it's knowing and talking to others that makes us understand what "right" is.

How funny, that it's easier to be sorrowful and melancholy than angry - at least, it is for me. I can be intensely angry for a short time, but all too often, my mind starts showing me all the reasons I shouldn't and can't be angry. I get a taste of what it is to be in the other's shoes, and that dissolves all the anger...and in its place is guilt, plain and simple. After the guilt wears away, all that's left is sadness...the kind that washes in and out like waves, taking away the old melancholy and bringing in something new with every slam of water on shore. I'm a sandbar subjected to this, and it's not too long before I've changed shape, or even disappeared.

Perhaps I should stop trying to be all poetic and simply talk. It's...difficult, though. I don't want to accidentally show people I know what I'm feeling, but there are a few I trust enough to let them see...but very few. My heart is a Swiss safe, and I'm rather reluctant to give out the key. Here's the gist of it, I suppose. I love my family. Perhaps a bit too much, but...family is family after all. Roughly half of my siblings are not walking with the Lord, and it often makes relationships tense. I myself am often the subject of teasing...but I'm not so worried about myself. I really fear for my siblings...I love them, but I absolutely don't know what to do, except pray.

I'm afraid I can't really expand on that. I mean, I could, but I don't really know what to say. I don't really understand the situation myself, but I do know I don't want to see someone I love go through and to Hell.

I'm too emotional, I know...I really am lost on this one. Ah well. Yes, prayer. It'd be nice to know I wasn't alone, though...

~Fumblebee

At What Price?

A poem I wrote for Memorial Day. Inspired partially by Langston Hughes' "Refugee in America" poem. Untitled as of yet. Dedicated to all soldiers and all those who love them and America.

There are words like "freedom"
I do not understand,
Nor will I ever know
Until for them I fight.

There are men called "soldiers"
Who daily risk their lives
To protect this "freedom"
That you and I enjoy.

There are souls called "saints",
Solders loved and passed,
Watching freedom fade
And men losing love
For...
This country, bought with blood and tears;
This precious land of "freedom";
They forget about our men
Fighting in a foreign land.

I still know not what "freedom" is,
But soldiers and saints are teaching
What it is to love my country
And sacrifice my all for it -

America the Beautiful;
Land of the Free, Home of the Brave;
Land that I love, my birthplace, and,
The land for which many saints died.

To all out there, no matter what you're doing, don't forget - freedom comes at a price.

~Fumblebee

Melancholy Memories and Fading Footprints

It's funny, how one of the most beautiful days can seem grey and cold when you're alone...and even if that loneliness isn't absolute. Sometimes you can imagine you're the only one in the entire world, because your entire world is merely the area around you that you can see and hear and feel...

Looking back through papers, stirring up old memories with the dust...remembering what your world once was and who was included in it. Dear friends, beloved family now long gone...relationships that gradually faded away...knowing that you allowed it to happen. It's not a guilty feeling, not completely, but there's definitely a feeling of loss. It's hard to remember what could have been and wondering where you'd be today if it had continued. Ah, sorrowful regrets.

How funny, to look back and recall all that you fumbled through, and laugh at your own mistakes. How amazing, to look at who you once were, and see how far you've come, how much you've changed - and whether it's for the better or not.

It's hard, knowing you've never visit those times again. They're over for good, and nothing will change that. I guess all we can do is keep moving forward and making new memories...because there's really nothing else to do. To stay at one point of time forever is to be obsessed, and wrongfully so. I don't want to be stuck in one place. I know there are people waiting for me. I'll never know who they are if I don't keep plowing on through the mud of life. Maybe they'll need me as much as I'll need them.

It's nice to be needed...and even better to be wanted and loved.

So I'll remember, perhaps in a melancholy way, but with a bit of hope for the future, as well. I will always be fond of remembrance, and I'll always love those people, even if they are gone...but even as memories fade, love will find a way to grow...and I'll keep walking until my footprints cross with his.

Then we can continue into the horizon, the waves washing clean the tracks behind us...walking side by side until the world I know now can no longer see us and is left with a memory...

...Just a memory of love.

~An Overcast-y Sort of Fumblebee

Peer Pressure

I've considered putting up some of my actual writing up, and couldn't decide...but I've decided now to share at least some of it. Here's something I wrote roughly 6-7 months ago, while sitting in the UCSC. It's a little odd, I suppose, but it was very enjoyable to write.

Peer Pressure

Glancing around, the tension of the moment heating your face up, you hope no one will witness this. Or, if they do, maybe they'll pretend it didn't happen, that they didn't hear it. That is the worst part, you think, knowing that someone might choose to hear, and not being able to comprehend what they might do. Truly, this is a terrifying task you have set up for yourself.

Okay. You flex your fingers while telling yourself, "Who cares?" Alright, fine, you do...but they couldn't know that, could they? You can feel the smooth ring, with the jagged edges you know are tucked underneath. Only an idiot could cut themselves on something like this. An idiot, or someone who doesn't care like you care. A cut could only make things worse than they will be already.

Steeling yourself once more, you gently pry the ring up a fraction, then scoot your thumb underneath it, carefully. You're not an idiot, but you don't want to take chances, either. Then, slowly, ever so sluggishly, you put pressure on the aluminum ring, bearing up with your thumb while holding the ring in place with your index finger.

A creaking, groaning noise escapes the ring, and you pause for a moment, wondering if people were already listening. The worst is still yet to come. The disturbing thing is knowing that if you did it quickly, no one would truly notice, or if they did, they would know that you are strong, and unafraid of what they could do to you, and therefore they would keep their silence. You could beat them that way, you suppose, but...somehow, you can't. You're not that strong, not that confident. Oh, curse your shyness, your fear of man, that this should be such a terrifying quest!

Still you press on, now pulling the ring rather than raising it. The beast will be here any moment, ready to tear you apart. A final rasp echoes from the metal, and then, finally, terribly, a gunshot fills the air.

Almost as in the garden, when even the angels fell silent to watch what man and woman would choose, there is a stillness in the air. No one moves, no one dares breathe. Not even you. God Above, save you from the silence, from the beast who is waiting just behind you.

After an infinity of angels holding their breath, you dare to flick your eyes to the side. No one has looked up from their appointed tasks, no one has chosen to hear you. To the right is a firmly painted wall, with shades of the Holy Spirit added by meandering pencils. Ah, the calm of stone is a blessing, and you dare to touch it, if only with one finger.

The beast still lurks, but you've moved on to brighter corners. The ring is terrifying no more, and the threat of a paused, listening ear has been vanquished. The crisis is over, the new day begun.

And best yet, you can drink a toast to the empty room, and God who waits within, toasting you in return.

Feedback would be greatly appreciated. =)

~Fumblebee

Blame

Why is it that when someone hurts us, we think, "They'll be sorry if I die today," or similar things? Why are we always at fault? And why is self-injury always our response? Certainly, the people who hurt us would sorrow if some injury would come to us, but why should we need to hurt ourselves in the first place? Hurt is so easily received, especially when it was the thing least intended. Again, the problem of having a tender heart - it's far too easily hurt, too emotional, too prone to react in the extreme.

I just wonder why we blame ourselves immediately, especially when there is nothing to be blamed for. I suppose it's that it's easier to blame oneself than accept that the other person is in the wrong. After all, who wants to always go around pointing out other's faults? Not I, at least. No, it's much safer to be alone in one's misery, and to be content with keeping the blame to oneself. That way, you don't have to risk being injured more deeply through arguing over blame.

I am not a very loud person, or at least not inside. Certainly, I have an energetic, never-shuts-up front, but that is merely a deterrent so no one will look any deeper. When you appear shallow, that is what people accept as "you". Inside, however, I hate to cause problems, and so try my best to be peaceful. If that includes taking the blame for things completely beyond my control, so be it. So long as everyone else is happy.

I am not unhappy about this - resigned, certainly, but not unhappy. It's not always bad, taking the blame...if only a tad lonely. I'll gladly apologize and repent if it'll save someone else. After all, not everyone is as well acquainted with loneliness and sorrow as myself.

~Fumblebee

Careworn

How can you relate to someone who is going through a depth of pain you will never understand? And when they don't want you to relate in the first place? How can you just stand there and watch that person slowly suffocate in their prison of glass? Why, oh why, must they stare at you with such eyes, asking you to take their pain away, when there is absolutely nothing you can do? Certainly, you can be there for them, and hold them, but other than that, there is nothing.

And when you have everything that they've lost, how can they ever trust you again? Whenever you are with them, you carefully censor everything you say and do, because it's not worth the pain caused. You refuse to hug your dad, just because your friend doesn't have a dad anymore, or theirs have left. You can't understand their heartache, so you try to make it impossible to remind them. And, somewhere in all the confusion and silence, you realize that you've lost sight of their hearts, and they are too far gone to bother baring it to you again. That mutual love is much diminished...and you wonder why you're still there. Every time they need a shoulder to cry on, you're still there, but somehow you can't cry with them anymore.

What's wrong with you? How can you possibly be so heartless?

Well...maybe my heart is tired of caring...you could say it's a tad careworn at the moment. It's run out of tears to cry; it's a limp rag. Give it some time...and hopefully it'll come around.

'Cause with your heart out, you've lost the round.

~Fumblebee

A Brief Mumbling

I really, really enjoy freewriting. There aren't any limits on it, so it can go in any direction...I spent around 15 minutes freewriting last night and came up with 10 viable ideas for short stories, and I think I'll end up following most of them through.

I guess this post will be more for an update than thoughts...I've been considering putting up some poetry of mine, but I haven't decided yet...I have some very favorite poems of my own, and I'd really like to put them up, but I don't want them stolen. Ah well...I may put them up soon anyhow. Not that I'll get feedback...*coughcoughnudgenudgewinkwinkhinthint*

I am very, very tired. Working all day and then biking around really takes it out of a person...but it's a good sort of tired.

Anyhow...being a fumblebee is nice...and though it's usually overcast, today was mostly sunny. It was fun seeing the other bumblebees bumbling around...crashing into things, hitting windows, trying to kill me...it's amazing how much energy one can muster when one is afraid. Fear does miraculous things, does it not?

Well...I bid thee all good night, and shall collapse into bed.

So:

Good night.

~Fumblebee

Fumblebee Living in Overcast

I've decided the world needs more chickadees. They're so cheerful, whether they're in the midst of a bitterly cold winter or not. Chickadees and bumblebees...these brighten my day. At least, they do when there is a layer of glass, no matter how thin, between me and the latter. The former is fine with or without.

I've decided to be a tad more cheerful...not to mention that I'm feeling happier. Feelings are not facts, and I do know that oh so well, but...they do hold some purchase on my everyday life. So, I will remain Overcast, but an cheerful, not-so-dark overcast, with a tad of hope involved, as long as the chickadees and bumblebees stick with me. Therefore, I'll become a Fumblebee Living in Overcast.

Why Overcast, you ask? Well, Overcast can be a variety of moods. And really, to me, an overcast day doesn't have to be sad. In fact, I love overcast days, with their moody skies...Overcast is good, because it makes one appreciate the sun.

And, as beautiful as sunny, clear-sky days are, it's the overcast days that understand how you feel.

~Fumblebee Living in Overcast

Fumblebee

There's a fat little bumblebee hitting the window next to where I'm sitting. Sweet little thing, really...unless you meet the wrong end. Poor thing seems not to understand that however many times he charges at the flowers inside, he's not going to get to them. How like us, in everyday life. Butting up against things that we'll never get through, oblivious to that fact which everyone else seems to see. If that bumblebee seems cute to us, and God sees us as that bumblebee...well, I can understand. Mistake after mistake...perhaps it's more serious than hitting a window continually, but somehow He finds it in Him to forgive us once again.

Meanwhile, we're still kind of bumblebees, fumbling through life. In the semi-fit-to-my-own-situation words I heard in a wedding yesterday, I'm not going to be perfect, and doubtless I'm going to screw up constantly. However, it's the fact that in my heart, I want to do what God wants me to do, and obey Him, honor Him, and love Him with everything I am. There's no way I'll ever get to the level of perfection that Jesus was at, but my heart is to give Him everything, whether bad or good.

So, you see, as a fumblebee myself, It's not the thought that counts - it's the heart behind the thought.

I think that was one of the best wedding's I've ever been to - and I didn't even have to cry or feel lonely, because it was so joyful. All this one did was make me more excited about my future. So, though I'll doubtless keep hitting my head against that window, I'm pressing on.

God made life an adventure for a reason.

~Fumblebee Living in Overcast

Questions

What qualifies one for greatness? What is it that allows us to lead the life we do, no matter what station it is? Through what methods is one chosen to spend a life in poverty, or wealth; sickness, or health? Are our hearts measured, or is it simply an accident of chance?

What decides what or who we become? How can our hearts be read and known? Because hearts change. People fade and forget who they are. When life is so short and so long at the same time, in the chaos of living, surviving for another day, how can one possibly keep a tender, living heart?

Those who believe in this "heart of flesh" are too soft; too loving; too trusting. Their hearts are broken and scarred far too easily. To be soft, to be tender, it to be vulnerable. In this world, to be vulnerable is to be born to die, slaughtered by harsh reality. This is the truth; how sorrowfully ironic that the thing that sets us free is that which smashes us to the ground and batters us beyond repair.

Really, what is there to hope for? Those who are "great"...what was ever great about them, except their station? And for those have struggled and fought their way to top, when you're at the top, where is there left to go? Won't you just end up sinking back down in to the mire of ignored, trashed talents? There is no appreciation for what is actually valuable, as opposed to the cheap chrome-painted trash so easily available.

So. Why was I thrust into this world that doesn't care? Why was I "cursed" with a tender heart, that is so easily cast aside, so easily wounded, so easily scarred? And if all of this is true, why wasn't I given a way to fly away, and leave it all behind?

No wonder there are so many suicide jumpers. At least one can have a brief taste of what should have been before they are lost.

Not that I'm aiming for the jump - no, I'm far too cowardly for that. I cannot even hurt myself; the thought makes me sick, though it's not necessarily a bad thing. Why? Simply thing; I don't want to die. As bad as things may be, I have no desire to give up. Thank God for that. He never promised that it would be easy - and even if it were, easy would be no testament to His name. No, it will never be easy - but I'll never be alone, either.

And for now, with all the hell that must be gone through, I can handle it knowing that.

~Overcast.

Overcast

Jeesh. Enough angst already. Sorry people; I have this amazing superpower to gripe about all sorts of crap. The normal me is back. Sometimes Overcast jumps out at school and other places, usually without me noticing. She stays for a while, too...by the time I notice her, she's run off again, waiting for the next chance to catch me.

I wish what occurs to Over and I wasn't always somewhat depressed or sad in subject. Unfortunately, it's usually all that's going on. Neither of myself can get over the sad state of affairs everything is in, but it helps to write it out.

Real Over - myself, at least - is fairly happy at the moment. Rather melancholy, as always, but not particularly unhappy or upset. Of course, there is the usual loneliness, but I'm accustomed to that. When you're a shut-in that never lets her true self show, it's hard to not feel alone. I'm not even sure I know the person I am. I'm not that understanding of myself. God willing, I'll run into someone, somewhere, who can figure me out, 'cause I'm totally stuck at this point.

Over is rather put out after trying to go fishing and getting bombarded by gnats. She likes her quiet times, sailing or fishing, just doing one of those things you can think and enjoy oneself all the while.

I am I and Over is...well, my rather upset, disturbed, and disappointed name for ranting and being generally depressed and annoying and a bit of a didiot. She's not the best person, and that therefore reflects on me.

But, I'm not writing this for anyone but myself. No one reads my thoughts at any rate, so why should what I say make any difference?

Anyhow...

Today I realized how easily I fall into believing the worst of myself. A reprimand sets me off, shutting me up with anger until I can stop myself and think things through. I'm such a ditz...getting angry so easily and falling out of anger almost as easily. Such an emotional mess...but I suppose that come with being female, somewhat.

But - that reprimand sets off a chain reaction, and way too easily at that. A reprimand leads to being I am too worthless to be allowed to do anything. How easily I fall into the slough of despond, of rejecting that God gave me worth. How fickle I am - and the more I realize it, the worse it gets. I would have low self-esteem if not for the fact that I don't have any self-esteem in the first place.

This isn't a pity party, nor angst, really...it's simply me realizing things out loud online that I can't out loud in real life. The best audience is one you know is there, but paying little or no attention to you; that way you don't have to fear them.

Anyhow...as it is rather late and I enjoy sleeping...good night all.

Good night, and I hope a rest upon you without dreams of chainsaw murderers and...other things.

~Overcast

Sorrow Ain't so Sweet

How do you part with someone you have come to like, though you don't know them intimately? How can you say goodbye to someone who has come to mean something to you, when the feeling is not mutual? How can you let them know that you will miss them, think of them, and hope to see them again, when they aren't interested?

I don't want to part, but we must, and I am grasping at straws of a feeling I don't entirely understand. If I let you go, I am sure to never see you again, but I don't know how to let go while making you understand how I feel. I don't know how to say that I enjoyed every moment, that I wish it could continue, that...

I know I'll eventually move on, that this won't hold me down for long, but...it is something my heart doesn't understand. I know in my head, but my heart has yet to comprehend this thing.

Inside every person are two people; a 5-year-old child and an adult. The heart and the mind. One tends to dominate the other, and force it to do things. However different they are, though, they must depend on each other...

~Overcast

It all started with loneliness...

There's nothing wrong with feeling loneliness...it's just...it's hard to be happy without you. You, whom I have never met, already have such an effect on me. You captured my heart long ago; you stole my breath, my thunder...irreplaceable things all, and none have returned as of yet. I'm living in the type of story I hate most, because there is nothing worth reading.

Every day is spent thinking, wondering, "If only I could, If only I were..." My lost heart is something I can still feel, and I know it is invisibly shattered beyond repair. It gives the appearance of fullness and completeness, but in truth there is little left, and like the moon as it wanes, it is disappearing. Only, this time, there will be no new moon...

I am pathetic in my feelings, and I hate that it is so. If people were Mary-Sues, I would be one of the worst. No matter what I say, what I see in myself, my self-analysis, will be considered the ranting of someone who wants attention, and maybe part of that is true. Maybe I really would do anything for attention - I, who have stood in a corner all my life. What have I ever done that is "great" and worthy of attention, of love? I laugh, because I have nothing to be proud of. I smile, because I have nothing that anyone should ever want - nothing whatsoever.

I have nothing - at all. Maybe looking for attention is my way of compensating for what I don't have.

Either way, I fail.

~Overcast

Confusion

Don't tell me not to cry - don't tell me that it'll all be okay. It's not, it's not, and it never will be. Don't stop me from doing the only thing I can; don't try to hold me close; don't try to wipe my sorrow away with your touch. I'd rather be alone than try to be loved by you. I can't handle love, it's too much...too much pain comes of love, and I know it full well.

So why is my mind telling me one thing, and my heart another? I'm sick of being divided within myself, wanting something I know I can't have. I'm tired of having dreams and only that. I'm tired of longing for something that doesn't exist, and yet it's the only way I can go on. I shall be doomed to wander the world, looking for what doesn't exist, until I die, because what I pretend is better than reality.

The person I love most, want most, simply doesn't exist. And so I'll continue walking alone, continue crying unconsoled. There's nothing more for my heart. If I didn't know so well that it was whole, I would know it was broken. What a stupid, fickle thing, the heart. I don't even understand it.

Don't tell me to stop crying - don't ask me to quit. I finally found you, I finally understand. Just...hold me. For now, it's enough...

~Overcast

Not so Different

Funny, how we so strive for abnormality, denying that there should be anything normal and ordinary about us. When the words "weird" or "random" are used to describe us, there is a thrill that shouldn't be exciting. We so delight in being different that we romanticize things that are ugly and wrong so we can be "weird". Why?

Because "weird" becomes "accepted". Why do we so strive to make others laugh, even at our own expense? Because if they are laughing, they are not rejecting; if they find some sort of amusement in you, they won't push you away - at least, not immediately. If they're laughing, then we can laugh with them and have a semblance of a real relationship, if only for a short while. We strive for that "friendship" so desperately, like a dying sailor for a cup of muddy water; something that isn't pure in the least, but will satisfy, for a time. It's better than salt water, but after a time, it leaves that same longing for more that never is truly quenched.

What is "normal" that it is so feared? To be less than abnormal is a curse, and no one quite knows why. Under that striving to be recognized by being "weird" in the same way as other is a soul terrified of being left alone. Inside each grown person is a child, screaming for something he can't comprehend, torn apart by a desire to be himself.

Our world is made to suppress that, by teaching us we must all be the same; same hairstyle, same clothes, same manner. With every move we make to be "weird" and "random" we are longing to be like every other person. What a truly vicious cycle we are all caught within, and no way out without being shunned. If you're not longing to be like us, you're not worth being accepted.

Welcome to America and the world; land of the free, home of the brave - so long as you're just like us.

~Overcast

Unforgivable

Is it really so wrong to feel like I don't belong anywhere? I've never had any truly close friends...no one I could say would die for me, though I might feel that way about someone. I am finding myself severely confused, and an outsider; just that person lurking on the edge of the photo that you don't notice.

Yeah, that one girl...can't even remember her name. Doesn't matter anyway; she was nothing special. If anything, she was annoying; always laughing and hyper; probably one of the more immature people out there. She refuses to grow up; she doesn't understand how to be adult; she's stuck in Neverland, waiting for someone who will never show up.

I've never felt at ease when doing things; there was always the time when it would end looming over me, destroying any fake fun I was pretending to have. Why? Because when it's all over and done with, I'll be the one standing alone, crawling alone, living alone, while everyone else has their sunny lives to live, full of people who they can trust, people who understand them. I can say I'm glad that everyone has that - God forbid they should be cursed like me - but I know I'll never own such a luxury. While everyone is out enjoying the sunlight, I'm stuck on overcast, swathed by a moody, gloomy day, the type that you live through, sleep, and wake to the same thing, one more time over.

Is it so wrong to dream of something more? Is it such a terrible sin to wish for someone to love, to share dreams, hopes, fears, and joy with? Is it a crime to want to be needed by someone, and to need them in return? Is it wrong to want to be held? I find myself aching for a pair of arms, a person I have never known; someone I'm dying to meet, so I can finally live with them. How can I stand loving that person which I have yet to meet? Every day lived out in the hope that I will find them, and know and understand when I do?

...Is it so terrible to want to be loved for just being myself, and not putting on the act that society demands? After so many years...I don't know what "myself" is anymore. It's too deep within; chained to the bottom of a riverbed, undisturbed, unknown...

That girl I remember - so faintly - from days of sun and happiness and yellow warmth...Is it wrong to long to know who she was?

~Overcast

One Thought

A friend and I were discussing heaven...and I came upon the thought that someday, I'll be able to see all the people I've never met; my older sister who was a miscarriage, in particular. I'll be able to meet her and say, "I've been waiting my entire life to meet you." I hope I'm someone she can be proud of. I can't help wondering how different my life would be if she had been born, but I'll never know until I meet her, will I?

I wonder if I would be a different person today. How many people would I have never met, and how many would I have met that I don't know now? Would I even want to know? I'm not really sure yet...but I know if I would have had the chance, I would have liked to meet you, Naomi.

I want to mark this as a turning point in my blog. I want this to be a journal of my deepest thoughts that I never get to share with anyone. Maybe I'll address them to people, but who knows. It won't be silliness and games, though. I'm in a rather serious, autumn time of life...so expect a lot of moody skies and melancholy.

~Overcast