Faith.

"Faith"

That word.

It is written on jewelry, decorations, name tags, everything.

I hate that it has become just a word. A word scribed on worldly things.

"But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you."

Matthew 6:33

"These things"

things that I worry about daily, mainly 

"How will I live after I graduate, and become cut off from the silver spoon fund?"

"Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?"

Matthew 6:30

I'm worth so much more than a sparrow or grass, yet exhibit less faith.

Too nice.

KASSIE

(Walking in hallway, buried in her packet, studying for a final)

GIRL

Hey, do you work in the TV lab?

KASSIE

uhh, yeah?

GIRL

Can I check out a camera?

KASSIE

(KASSIE looks up from her packet, unwillingly)

Umm...is the lab open?

GIRL

I don't know.

KASSIE

Ok, did you check?

GIRL

Yeah, its locked.

KASSIE

Then I guess it isn't open...
(KASSIE returns to studying)

GIRL

                               (awkwardly stares at KASSIE)

KASSIE CONT'D

(KASSIE looks up, perturbed)

Well...I guess I can check.

GIRL

Ok, well I  want a camera and a tripod.

KASSIE

Uhh, okay, I'll check to see if you can, I guess...

(KASSIE and GIRL unlock hallway to the TV lab, walk down the hall to an empty dark room)

KASSIE CONT'D

No one is here, I'll call Mangrum.

(KASSIE calls MANGRUM and gets voicemail)

KASSIE CONT'D

She didn't answer, I guess check back later, or email Mangrum

GIRL

When are y'all open?

KASSIE

I'm going to assume that we aren't...It is finals week, and everyone that works here goes to school here too...sooo...

GIRL

oh. ok...

KASSIE

(Walks girl out of the hall and locks the door, GIRL exits)

really?!

Songless song

If I had a piano, I'd play a song.

A song from my heart that no one has ever heard before, not even me.

The song would start, but there is not guarantee of an end.

When my fingers dance on the keys, my eyes close and the world goes black.

Even though the world is black, that's when it is at it's brightest to me.

I'm giving this song no words.

The crisp, clean, smooth, and melded notes begin to entrance. 

It doesn't matter to me if you enjoy it,

my eyes are closed, my heart is happy...

the world is the brightest dark it has ever been. 

With Each Step

The leaf floats on the river. Untouched. The current of the water pushes it where it wishes for it to go.
The leaf has no part in deciding it's path. Contentment was possible in the water, but without a voice, it has no chance to say.
The leaf bothered no one, but it bothered you.
The leaf washed up on the shore, you stepped on it and it stuck to your shoe. 
The leaf was stomped on,
with.each.step.
The leaf might be happy with being untouched and alone, but instead it reached out, onto the shore....for you.
You didn't even see it there.
You maimed the leaf till it was unrecognizable.
Nature's beauty destroyed by narcissism.
Your narcissism.
Never again can the leaf float contently toward the shore, when not even it's own gardener takes notice in it's outreach.
You broke it. Smothered it. Destroyed it.
with.each.step.

It's A Shame

It makes me nervous. Actually being treated nice, makes me nervous. That's a shame.
I've always been known to wince before pain.
This is too good. It makes me live in a constant wince, anticipating. I just wish I could stop.
Stop wincing. Start living.
It's a shame that you can identify. Why are people so accustomed to being treated less than a creation of God?
It's a shame that I'm scared to publish this.

Stop.

just stop.
stop facebooking.
stop blogging.
stop jamming to Ke$ha, day and night.
stop instant messaging.
stop texting.
stop talking in general.
stop pressing the keys on the piano.
stop strumming the guitar strings.
stop dancing in the living room with the balcony window open.
stop glaring at people.
stop day dreaming.
stop watching TV.
stop listening to the radio.
stop sleeping.
stop eating.
stop breathing.
stop being silly
START BEING PRODUCTIVE.
or else,
or else you'll end up living in a van, down by the river.

Revelation.

Revelation. Literally and figuratively. 


Literally:
Revelation 3:15-19

¹⁵I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot.
 ¹⁶So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth.
 ¹⁷Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked:
 ¹⁸I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich; and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do not appear; and anoint thine eyes with eyesalve, that thou mayest see.
 ¹⁹As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten: be zealous therefore, and repent.


Figuratively:
Psalm 118:24
²⁴This is the day which the LORD hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.






I realized tonight that by me not living in today, and stressing over planning for tomorrow makes me lukewarm. 
It means I am so content with the way I am living that I feel that the future is when it is time to start serving God, and not realizing that....


realizing that God isn't asking me to plan for tomorrow, He's asking me to live for Him today.

Chaos.

Twenty days of school left for me in this semester. That's including finals.

Five to ten page literature review.

Ten to twelve page research proposal due.

Eighteen hours of internship left.

A book review.

A movie review.

A documentary.

A video proposal.

I could probably list more, but honestly I can see my grades dropping by me sitting here on my blog instead of doing the tasks above. Something miraculous always happens, of this I am sure.  Finals end, I breathe, I look at my hands and realize that I'm still alive. Alive and happy.

Cheesy Chick Flick

People always say that they hate how cheesy chick flick movies are, but I have no shame.
I love those movies, because they always end the way I want them to.
The beautiful starring girl, who I always find a way to identify myself with, ends up with the sexy starring male and they have a happy life together.

So what if my life ends with a black screen with white text scrolling up it?! At least the tears are from joy and I get to spend one more day with what I have left of my heart.

Shallow Hairspray.

Sometimes my thoughts are not deep at all, for instance right now.

I sprayed myself with a tester perfume at Ulta earlier today called "Hypnotic Poison."
It is the most amazing scent ever created, and is possibly the scent of heaven.
This is the conflict...

My friend just sprayed hairspray and now I can't really smell the Hypnotic Poison.
I am unable to spray myself with more Hypnotic Poison because I did not buy it, I merely used the tester.

Do I walk around in the evening smelling of Aussie hairspray? or do I spray my new "Winter Wonderland" fragrance on, in hopes that it doesn't make me vomit combined with the hairspray and the Hypnotic Poison?

Puzzling.

I don't think you understand,
unless it's me who is without a clue.
I think you know what I'm talking about...
and neither of us know what to do.

Drowning

I hear you. I listen to you. I think about what you are saying. I have something to say. I decide that I am able to reply with something beneficial. I take a breath. The words leave my mouth as I exhale. They are slippery and smooth as they flow out of my mouth and spring off the tip of my toungue. The words are enunciated, pronounced, and free of stutter. I'm looking at you, at your eyes, in your eyes, through your eyes.

nothing.

What is wrong? Was it something I said? Did you even hear me? Can you even hear me now?

nothing.

You speak.
as.
if.
I.
had.
never.
existed.

Your opinion has lost all credibility and respect.
It's nothing I can control, you didn't lose it from me, but my inner spirit.

When my mouth opens to speak, every word marks another swill of water sinking into my lungs.
Gasping for air, for my opinion to be heard, but more so for help, because every word brings me closer to drowning.

I know the words came out, just as clearly as before.

There you are. . .
and still nothing.

I'm drowning in myself, and no one hears me screaming for help.

I love it. My Monologue.

I love you.
I love everything you say to me. Your words are like swallowing cough syrup. The hot, sticky, delicious menthol, oozing down my throat chills me to the bone.
I love the way you make me feel obligated to help you, and how when I help you, it takes forever.  Your understanding baffles me beyond belief, you.are.a.genius.
I love that you are completely okay with mocking me one minute, then asking me to use that very talent you just mocked to help you. You are so considerate in the idea that I might be self conscious in my strange way of doing things, that you never comment on how ridiculous it could possibly be.
I love you. Seeing your face makes my heart skip a beat, and my feet dance a jig.
I love being negative all of the time. It soothes the soul, and decreases worry wrinkles.
I love that I've worked so hard on a degree, and have no idea what to use it for. I'll probably end up in a dead end job anyway, but at least I'm biologically inclined to make sandwiches, clean, rear children, and be helpless at all the important things like opening doors, or carrying my own luggage.
I love life.
I love living everyone elses dream, because if I were to live out my dream that would be selfish, and I'm glad that you are there beside me to remind me of that.
I love waiting until the last minute to get things done. The rush of adrenalin to finish the project seconds before it's due gives me a thrill of ecstasy equivalent to that of an antelope right before he sprints away from death as a lion's teeth graze his skin, instead of gnashing his innards.
I love the time that I waste, I love wasting time.
I love that I do waste time.
I love time.
I love raspberries.
Not the thing you do with your mouth on a baby's belly, but the actual fruit.
I love the way it tastes, and I love the way it scares me by being so sour.
I love how I always forget that I love rasberries, until it is too late.
I love when my throat itches, HOW THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO FIX THAT?!
I love how it takes so long to do my hair.
I love how no matter how long it takes to do my hair I still wont like it.
I love how much I annoy myself.
I hate being sarcastic.
I love being wrong, especially when you tell me I am.
I love birthday parties.
I love the idea that you probably aren't going to understand the idea of this monologue, and I'll have to explain it, because bringing it up to such a level for your understanding would make it difficult for the general population to understand things with such complexity.
I love how at one point in time you'll assume that I'm directly speaking to you
I love how you think you are that important to me that I would do that.

Beautiful

The cool morning breeze blew my bangs out of my sun-shaded eyes as I frolicked towards the library. I knew there were going to be imperfections in my attempted perfect day, but they only made it more precious. 

I smelled the scent of a close friend who had once wore my jacket as i pulled it over my head. 

I smiled. 

I left for class early so I could bask in the autumn weather, soaking up rays as the wind counteracted it create the best blend. I saw my classmates, most of whom I didn't know until this semester.

They were smiling. 

I wrote an entire play scene with no words, about something so ridiculous that my self conscious being told me was not something anyone would enjoy. I warned the teacher before I read it aloud that he may find my characters actions offensive and slightly disturbing, he allowed it. Surprisingly he found it funny.

He smiled.

I ate lunch with a girl I've never met before.  She needed help with making her class schedule next semester.  Her eyes were glimmering, like she was excited about learning what these classes had to offer.  She had the best laugh, she was full of energy, and smelled of flowers. I still don't know her name, but more importantly, we enjoyed it.

She smiled.

What I learned from this attempted perfect day. . . .

You're beautiful. Even if you never hear it, or only hear it from people who you think have to say it.

You're beautiful.  So smile. (:

It gets better?

Many are saying "it gets better" to people who are homosexual because of the recent suicide of a young teenage boy who killed himself after his classmates teased him about his sexual orientation.

My question is, does it get better for the people who can empathize with the UT shooter who was really a student just like me, that killed himself in the middle of a crowded library?

Does it get better? Do I have to endure school, endure life, just to get to the "prize" of being in the workforce. (Which sounds like such a prize. . . )

Don't get me wrong, yeah it's great being a student.

Who am I kidding, IT IS NOT GREAT BEING A STUDENT!

I'm tired of people having control over me via grades. You'd think, oh grades, no big deal....FALSE, when the person who controls your grade, ALSO controls your scholarship, which controls your money flow, things get personal, immediately.

**Disclaimer** This is not pointed at any particular teacher, because ALL teachers control my scholarship, because my scholarship is based off of my GPA.

I am so done with school. done. I.don't.care.

The worst part about me saying that is, it isn't true. I am tired of school, but I couldn't stop caring about my grades if you held me at gun point.

I have skipped out on the essentials to survival in order to do school work. My life has literally become school first, breathing and sleeping second.

It gets better?

I have to take sleeping pills so that I don't lay in bed and think about all the things that my teachers said I did wrong that day, just to take an energy drink hopefully 7 hours later to wake up and get a dose of hearing how much of a failure I am, and the vicious cycle is on an infinite loop.

I know I'm not the only one. I get hundreds of texts a month from friends who are in the same situation. I honestly don't care if someone tells me, "just look at other people, you have it so much better than them," in regards to the fact that I even have the opportunity to get a college education. I don't care if they say that because they obviously don't understand that I'm in an academically abusive relationship.

Physically, emotionally, psychologically, whatever else there is, this relationship with academia is abusive.

I'm not saying that I want to commit suicide, but I do hope that it gets better.

I wrote it down.

Not that it means anything is written in stone, because my life plans change daily, but I wrote it down. I wrote down what I want. I was totally honest and wrote down what I want to do after I graduate. Whatever it's worth. 


I feel better.
It feels good that I finally admitted that that is what I want. Not what I think God might want me to do, after all, Psalm 37:4 says, "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart."


Thus, since I delight myself in the Lord, His desires are my desires, and I shouldn't be afraid to admit what I desire. 


No matter what other people may think of my desires, they are my desires for me, not for them. 


I'm at peace. 

Waste

I have wasted just about all of today, and I am apprehensive to even use the word "waste" because I want to justify the fact that I have yet to fully accomplish anything today by saying that I have barely slept or done anything I've wanted to do all week, therefore the waste was in doing things throughout the week that I didn't want to do, and not in me not accomplishing anything yet today. 


My weekend started yesterday at 1:45pm. My weekend ends on Monday morning at 6:40am, when I have to start getting ready for work and school. 


I have so many things I want to do, and so many more things I need to do, but here I am...writing a blog about it, instead of doing it. Unless you count that I want to write a blog, then in that case, I'm doing what I want, and not wasting time. 


It is October. I graduate in May. If you don't care to count, that is 8 months. In 8 months I will have a degree and have no clue as to what to do with it. A piece of paper, with stamps, signatures,  various fonts, and my name. Was it a waste of time if I don't know what I'm going to do with it? I feel like I am having fun occasionally while earning this degree, but is it fun doing the things that I must do to earn it, or is the things I do to take my mind of off what I must do in order to earn it. 


I honestly do have fun in some of my classes while others have literally made me ill. 


Is anything a waste of time when you really think about it? Possibly. I'll say for today, it is not wasting time. ;)

Rigamaround

I will do basically anything possible in order to not do something I feel that I should probably do. Even then, I would love to do something and say that I want to do it, rather than I should do it.
It is rather annoying, and I do it on a daily basis, so much that it has become a lifestyle.  I am glad though that in the end, the job gets done.  I AM getting a little tired of not knowing what I'm going to do on June 1, 2011, the day that my lease is up and I have successfully obtained a bachelor's in communication and wont be tied to any specific place anymore.  
-Will I go to more school? 
-Will I wait for a while and get a job first? 
-Where will I live? 
-In Texas? 
-In the United States even? 
There are so many things and my life is in such deep rigamaround that while I know the job will get done I'm getting anxious as well as nervous that I don't know the next step.   It's easy for an outsider to tell me just to do what I want, but I have no idea what I want. I know that simply I want to feel loved, be held when I cry, and never feel alone. Lady Antebellum sings my story best when they say I'm "scared of love but scared of life alone." 
I don't care what happens on June 1, 2011 as long as I'm happy...until then I will try to enjoy while I prepare for the possibilities. 

I haven't decided

I haven't decided if the creation of this blog is genius, or hazardous.

-Kas.