I know you are proud of that baby, and I get it. However, just because you are proud of your baby does NOT mean that I wish to see that honkin’ huge belly of yours displayed in a half nude picture. It. Is. Not. Special. To. Us.

Baby = should be public. Preggo nude belly (with or without adornments) = should not be public.

Keep that picture for your own private gallery. Facebook is not private enough.

Sincerely,

Gagging

Ps. While you’re at it, we don’t want to see your baby’s butt either, so keep the diaper on when showing it off. Giant teacups for scenery do not make this ok.

I grew up in a small, tight-knit community in the heart of the jungle of Venezuela. Where I grew up, a modge-podge group of missionaries resided. Daily life was spent with schooling, chores, swimming, and the best part: story telling. I was a part of this group, one of the numbers that had passed through this place in the 60 plus years that it had existed. And looking back on it, I felt like just a number.

You see, there were stories about better times. A time when the place was just a few decades younger than I was. There were people there that remembered this time and cherished the memories that were had before I was born. They laughed and cried about stories that were spoken aloud so many times that I had memorized them, relished them in my soul. I longed to be a part of that time, to be in those stories that caused side-splitting laughter.

It was as if I were looking at a picture book of my parents and my older brothers traveling and having a good time before I was even born. It leaves a sense of aching, a sense of missing out on all that my small world had to offer.

I am older now, and I have matured past the point of needing to be in those peoples’ memories. However, I look at pictures of Venezuela, that community, and I think of stories that I have never heard. They are stories without number, in all spans of emotions, stories of a different generation.

I was one of the last of our community to live in that location. I cried and ran my thirteen year old fingers against the humid plastic of the airplane window as we circled the airstrip one last time. I think that counts for something, though I cannot tell what just yet.

Maybe someday I will tell my children my stories and they will wonder the same things.

However, with such a wide demographic of people that attend good old Comm Coll, I cannot say that we are all alike. In one category are the young high school PSEO students. Oh, if only my annoyance had adequate words! Alas. I sit in class with such young, foolish children that flirt with every eye that looks their way. If you fall into this category, remember that no one wishes to hear about “how much you will party in college” or “how cool all your friends are because they have parents who host keggers”. No, I will not allow you to be my lawyer, accountant, or medical professional.

Another demographic, one which I fall into, are the slightly older, more serious students. We’re the ones that sweat profusely when the professor says, “quiz next week”, not only because we sweat much more than the young bucks over quizzes, but also because we have been out of school for way too long and quizzes still scare us. Yes, I heartily admit that our demographic can be annoying, since we ask incessant questions and care too much.

Then there are the old folks. Yes, those over 50 who are still seeking an education. It is a noble endeavor, and I commend each of you. However, I do not commend the attitude that is prevalent. I cannot count how many of this age group will sit in class with a glazed over look and then say to me (or the professor), “oh, I envy you young people! You are still able to learn all this material. We older people are unable to.” As if! You are hardly fragile, and most of your brain mass is still quite intact, even if your body isn’t. If you weren’t able to learn, then why did you sign up for the class in the first place? Quit whining and study!

Overall, comm coll is a melting pot of varied interests, ages, and futures. It is interesting to be a part of it, even though I only have six more months until I am finished and will move on to the all-important state university.

ps. Semi-goth-hippie-nerd types, it is time to change your outfits if you ever want a job.

Don’t run on the roads with your music blaring from your headphones. It’s unsafe. Please watch the road and listen for traffic sounds.

Do us all a favor: listen to music on the treadmill. If you wanna get serious, then get serious.

However, I am still here, and I’m still thinking. Imagine that?

I find it ironic how sometimes the people that you think understand you the best, miss the most important parts of you. I think it’s easy to overlook things in people once we’ve known them a certain amount of time. We stop learning, stop asking… we start assuming, covering up the ugly things we don’t want to see.

That’s unfortunate. Since when did we stop caring about the people closest to us? We need to keep learning from them, and about them.

And with this closing thought, I send this post into… cyberspace!

Have you ever taken time to study it? I did in bible school, but since then I’ve chosen more light reads. (eg: Psalms) Well, now it’s time to get back into the harder stuff!

Ok, so, to start, the writer is John. He’s on the isle of Patmos, banished to a life of hard labor by Dominus (name?) because he wouldn’t bow down and say that he’s equal to God. That would be depressing… but at this point in John’s life, he probably figures that he’s lived a long time, and served his Lord for most of it. He’s borne witness to Jesus Christ, “even to all he saw.” God will one day say to him, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

I want to be John. And now to return to the text…

…I wonder how this revelation happened. Did the angel tell him all this, or open the heavens, or did he have a dream/vision? I suppose I will find out.

“Things that must soon take place.” How soon, Lord? The decay of this world is exceedingly great and fast. We are no longer safe to walk outside our doors, and with technology abuse, we now aren’t even safe inside our doors. I hope it’s soon.

But I suppose the main point is that it hasn’t taken place yet. Don’t you dare attempt to explain to me we’re in the tribulation because if you studied the word of God literally, you’ll find out we are not.

I suppose this is the part where I spew out eschatological terms and explain that I am premillennial, pre-tribulation rapture, and moderately dispensational. Who cares? Well, the concepts behind the terms are actually very important. I mean, labels are labels, but if you interpret the bible literally, historically, and have the Holy Spirit indwelling you, you’ll probably fall into the same playing field that I do when it comes to the end times.

So, verse 3 ends out this little section of Revelation with: “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it, for the time is near.” This book is important! As Christians, we should study this book. If we do, we will be blessed with knowledge that  God intended for us to have.

To jump through all the hoops again?
To learn to speak the truth again?
To press on through the cycles of turmoil and harmony again?
To bear the sighs of melodramatic lovers again?
To write new poetry again?
To sit underneath endless skies of an unknown future again?
To paint dreams in the stars again?
To love and be loved in return –

Again?

(does not encapsulate

the bursting of

color –

whimsical violet

mysterious crimson

pure, innocent gold

shards of light

pouring out of the clouds

with a unanimous chorus

of song

showering the sky

like sprinklers in the summer

beckoning the sun

hastening the perfection

of sunrise

and a new)

Morning.

http://www.webook.com/project/The-Coffee-Table-Collection

There is a lot of irony in the name of this small booklet… but all the same, it is my brainchild, and any feedback or constructive criticism would be much welcomed.

And also… I am back on wordpress!

Let’s talk soon,

SarahLynae

This is about you, because that’s who I think of all the time.

This is about us, because I’m sorry for the games I’ve played and lost.

Can you forgive me?