Sunday, 21 June 2009

  • :amused face:

    A friend of mine is breaking up with his girlfriend because she isn't enough like me. He knows he hasn't got a chance, but apparently just being around me so much has made him realize that his [long-term!] girlfriend is just not the type of person he wants to be with.
    0.o What?
    That's...nice, I guess.
    I mean, I'm glad he's decided he wants a healthy relationship with someone who's nothing like his mother.
    But, uh...it's kinda strange. And being quoted poetry at, well...actually, guys should do that part more. Although he could have made a better choice than Annabel Lee, since I'm not dead and all.

    Hey whatever. XD It was cute. But I work with him, so it's not gonna happen. End of story.

Tuesday, 07 April 2009

  • >_< sit still, you!

    I am amused by all the people who like to tell me [and/or other adults, children, etc.] to 'sit still and pay attention!'
    These folks seem to be under the impression that one cannot simultaneously move and focus.
    I'm curious where that idea came from, because the way I work is quite diametrical. I need to move in order to focus.
    Of course, this mostly has to do with all the extraneous noise and whatnot. Textbook pages turning, people whispering, the annoying aftertaste of coffee that won't go away, writing noises, fans...possibly the worst distraction of all is that my calculus teacher always leaves the window open. Noises occasionally drift up from the parking lot, and on windy days [like today], the chain to adjust the blinds clicks against the wall the entire period. Despite sitting across the room, that never fails to drive me crazy. How am I supposed to listen to my [fairly quiet] teacher with that clicking noise going on? Not that anyone else seems to notice it.
    Anyway.
    The more distractions, the more I fidget. I pull at my hair, stretch/tap my hands and feet, flutter my fingers, rub the desk, run my nails along my palms, shift around in my chair, pick at the skin on my lips, chew on things, doodle, scribble, pull at my eyelashes and ears, press on my eyes, grind my teeth, and a million other small things. I sometimes catch myself rocking slightly in my chair. If I'm at work and standing up I'm definitely going to be shifting from foot to foot, rocking back on my heels and then up onto the balls of my feet, bouncing up and down, moving my hands...
    I think I need to find myself a worry stone, like I had when I was a kid. You can keep it in your pocket and rub it and no one will even notice.
    Yeah.
    The entire point of that being, when I create controlled sensory input, it decreases the amount of things I can focus on. If I'm focusing on the teacher and whatever my actions are, I can't focus on all the other distractions, which would draw my attention away from the teacher. I don't need to pay attention to my fidgeting, because I know exactly what's going on and that it's not interesting and not going to change.

    Or something like that >_<

    So! Stop telling me to 'sit still and pay attention', so I can actually pay attention. Mmkay? Mmkay. :)


    EDIT: random side-note...never talking to people is doing odd things to my writing style >_< I sound like I did back in middle school...BEFORE I realized that most people don't have my working vocabulary. Apologies if I sent you off to a dictionary at any point, I'm fairly certain I managed to tone it down...

Friday, 13 March 2009

Saturday, 07 March 2009

  • I don't know what to do with a love like that...I don't know how to be a love like that...

    It's possibly the most honest, relevant line in a song I've heard in, well, ever. I don't know what to do with a love like that.
    I really don't.
    I want so bad to believe in this love, but I'm also more afraid of it than I've ever been of anything. There's a world of difference between intellectual belief and this thing I'm facing down. It's raw, and emotional, and it's the kind of thing that will tear everything apart and rebuild it. Everything I 'know' would cease to exist. The 'truths' I've built my life on aren't true, and on some level I'm aware of that...but I haven't yet learned to throw open the doors to the dark cellars of my soul and let the light shine down. There's believing and there's believing.
    I want to believe, God.
    Help me believe.
    Oh, God, help me.
    _________________________________________________________________________________________________________

    And the problem is this
    We were bought with a kiss
    But the cheek still turned
    Even when it wasn’t hit

    And I don’t know
    What to do with a love like that
    And I don’t know
    How to be a love like that

    When all the love in the world
    Is right here among us
    And hatred too
    And so we must choose
    What our hands will do

    Where there is pain
    Let there be grace
    Where there is suffering
    Bring serenity
    For those afraid
    Help them be brave
    Where there is misery
    Bring expectancy
    And surely we can change
    Surely we can change
    Something

    And the problem it seems
    Is with you and me
    Not the Love who came
    To repair everything

    And I don’t know
    What to do with a love like that
    And I don’t know
    How to be a love like that

    When all the love in the world
    Is right here among us
    And hatred too
    And so we must choose
    What our hands will do

    Where there is pain
    Let us bring grace
    Where there is suffering
    Bring serenity
    For those afraid
    Let us be brave
    Where there is misery
    Let us bring them relief
    And surely we can change
    Surely we can change
    Oh surely we can change
    Something

    Oh, the world’s about to change
    The whole world’s about to change


Wednesday, 25 February 2009

  • so the funeral was OK, I guess.

    exactly what it says on the tin: the funeral was OK. he was ready to go home, and while i'll always wish i'd gotten to know him better, i'm glad he's not in pain any more. even better than not being in pain, he's with jesus. i'll miss him, but...yeah.

    i should be working on my english paper, but at this point...i've been letting this mess my life up for nearly a week now, all because i'm too ashamed to mention it. so here goes: the thing about this whole thing that bothers me the most is that i found it impossible to relate to my family. okay, a whole bunch of people who just lost their father...any sane human being would be able to sympathize at least a little...except that i can't, really. just to the extent that i can tell they're hurting. i never really had a father, except in the biological sense. i don't understand what they do, or what it's like...people were up there telling stories and i was sitting there being confused and trying not to show it. and i feel like an awful person, but...yeah. it's a bit like, hmm, how do i even begin to explain? :\ it's like learning to swim, maybe. you can read about it, watch people do it all you want, and it doesn't make much of a difference. And also, it's something you learn as a kid. If you don't know by then, you probably won't learn it at all. Or something. :\
    seems like everyone i've talked to who had a father like mine at least had some sort of father figure. i never did, and by now it's a bit late for that sort of thing...but, hey, does explain the fact that the entire male half of the species seems like aliens to me. lol.




    song lyrics? well, hey, why not. side note: ok, old[er] song...but others from the same CD are floating around the internet...I can't be the only one who loves this song :) i've spent many, many a rough night listening to this on repeat...


    You know who I am inside
    You know when I lie
    You can tell when I'm amazed
    You can see my faith
    You know when I don't believe
    You know when I'm free
    You can tell when I need love
    You know I'm in need

    Love, I need love
    You are love
    I need You
    Love, You are love
    I need love
    I need You

    You know of my deepest fear
    You know when I'm scared
    You can read my empty page
    You can feel my rage
    You're aware of when I dream
    You see when I bleed
    You can tell when I need love
    You know I'm in need

    I know we need You, Father
    Much more than any other
    Your love brings us together
    We need You, we need You

    Love, we need love
    You are love
    We need You
    Love, You are love
    We need love
    We need You I need You.

    You know who I am inside...

    --Sonicflood, I need you

sparrowesque

  • Visit sparrowesque's Xanga Site
    • Name: Jacquelyn
    • Birthday: 12/20/1989
    • Gender: Female
    • Member Since: 8/3/2007

About Me

  • I'm a person. Like you, and Ghandi, and Timothy McVeigh, and Dwight L Moody,and Adolf Hitler, and CS Lewis, and Jeffrey Dalmer, and Mother Theresa, and...well, everyone.

Pulse

  • “All my hope on God is founded. He doth still my trust renew. Me through change and chance he guideth, only good and only true.”