SELF-PORTRAIT
by Zozan Hawez
Born in a safe family
But a dangerous area,
Iraq,
I heard guns at a young age, so young
They made a decision to
raise us safe
So packed our things
And went far away.
Now, in the city of rain,
I try to forget my past,
But memories never
fade.
This is my life,
It happened for a reason,
I happened for a reason.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Steps...
The more steps you take
The more that you leave behind
So who is following you now?
--"Steps" by Willet
MyFlyWithMeCover by Angela Lupinacci
It's Official: Angela Lupinacci Has Just Become A Musical Inspiration of Mine :)
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Nobody Says It Quite Like Jack Does...
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through;
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin;
I talk of love--a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
-C.S. Lewis
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through;
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin;
I talk of love--a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
-C.S. Lewis
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Inside a Cutter's Mind: Understanding And Helping Those Who Self-injure by Jerusha Clarkvery informative and helpful...
View all my reviews
Astrid and Veronika by Linda OlssonMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
i absolutely LOVED the imagery that Olsson creates!
View all my reviews
Friday, December 17, 2010
Jeremy Willet Is A Musician With A Message
Gandhi said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” Rachel Scott—a victim at the Columbine School Shooting—wrote, “I won’t be labeled as average.” Jeremy Willet, in a song that he has written called “Thirsty,” sings, “Change will only come when, we get up off the floor/And it’s in my blood, it’s the language that I dream in...”
Jeremy Willet is helping to bring awareness about global poverty, as well as a message of hope, to those that he meets. Quite frankly, he is not afraid to be a part of the life-saving change that is needed to save lives around the world—in fact, he embraces it.
This December, Jeremy and his brothers, also known as the rock band Willet which has been touring internationally since 2006, will be performing their fifth annual “Willet Snow on Christmas?” tour from Dec. 8-19 in 15 different cities on the U.S. East Coast.
The band is composed of three brothers from Maryland, including Jeremy Willet with vocals, acoustic guitar and keyboards; Justin Willet on electric guitar and Jordan Willet on bass guitar. Jeremy Willet, 25, describes their music as having “heavy guitar hooks, melodic vocals and symphonic production” and “thought-provoking lyrics inspired from scripture from the Bible and global poverty.” He says that Chevelle, Switchfoot and Blindside are some of the band’s musical influences.
What an average tour day looks like for Jeremy:
Between 8am-10am: Wake up, read Bible, drink some coffee, and load up in van.
10am - 3pm: Drive to next city
3pm-4pm: Radio/TV/newspaper interviews
4pm-5:30pm: Set up for concert
6pm - 7pm: Prayer/Bible study before show
7pm - 8:30: Concert / autographs
9pm - 10:30pm: Tear down
10:30pm – Midnight: grab some food, drive to hotel/host home
Willet has also played at festivals that have featured bands such as Switchfoot, Relient K, and the Newsboys, and has been on tour with Electric & Musical Industries (EMI) recording artist Sanctus Real.
Jeremy said Christmas especially has deep meaning to him.
“Christmas to me is a celebration of the birth of our Savior and an extension of the rest of the year that we should be living our lives for Jesus,” he said. “Christians especially get upset when people call it a ‘holiday’ instead of saying ‘Christmas’, etc., but I don't get caught up in the wording or politics of it. Call it what you want, at the end of the day, it is all about who you believe in, and how you live your life.”
In addition to writing and playing music, Jeremy recently co-authored a book called “carried.” with friend and youth pastor Justin Hanneken.
“We wrote ‘carried.’ after a trip to Africa together in 2009,” he said. “It brings a unique perspective from a youth pastor that ministers in one location weekly, and a Christian touring musician that is in a different city each night. The book is all about how we should lay down our ‘kingdoms’ that we have built up—consumerism, materialism, patriotism—and instead, pick up our cross.”
Jeremy describes what happens at a Willet concert, and what he hopes people take away from the concert when they leave.
“At a Willet concert, people experience an hour of hearing/seeing our original songs performed live, sometimes synced with videos on a backdrop,” he said.
At every Willet concert, the band shares an update about an international community that they work in. Currently, Willet works in Ethiopia, Mozambique and Haiti and visits these countries several times each year.
“Our hope is that people walk away from a Willet concert with a sense of urgency to sponsor a child from one of the communities that we work in,” he said. “We have seen that when one person/family takes the time and sacrifice to sponsor one child living in extreme poverty, then an entire community is transformed. Over the past five years, over 2,000 children have been sponsored through Willet concerts.”
He says that Willet first decided to take on the endeavor of sponsoring children following their first trip to Ethiopia, Africa, in 2007. Jeremy said the songs that songs directly address child sponsorship are the entire record “Virus” that they released in 2008, as well as “Shelter” off their ‘Teeth of a Lion, Fangs of a Lioness” album.
“I sponsored my first child after meeting Food for the Hungry at a festival and hearing about their strategy to address both physical and spiritual needs in poverty-stricken communities,” he said. “Their vision to work with pastors, community leaders and the children is fantastic! When someone sponsors a child, they also provide funding for a missionary in that community to tell the children about Jesus!”
Jeremy says that he and his wife, Kat, have sponsored three children, and have had the chance to meet one of them.
“In 2011, we are adopting our first child from Africa as well,” he excitedly said. “We are so excited to become parents to an orphan!”
Jeremy says that he and his wife, Kat, have sponsored three children, and have had the chance to meet one of them.
“In 2011, we are adopting our first child from Africa as well,” he excitedly said. “We are so excited to become parents to an orphan!”
If high school students and their families would like to become involved with sponsoring a child this Christmas, Jeremy recommends either going to www.fh.org/willet or coming to one of the 15 cities on the Christmas tour listed at http://www.willetonline.com/.
The last song on Willet’s latest album "Teeth of a Lion, Fangs of a Lioness" is called "Steps." The lyrics are: "The more steps you take/The more that you leave behind/So who is following you now?" With this in mind, Jeremy sums up how he hopes to impact and influence others by the way that he lives.
“My goal is this—songs are important, music is fun, touring the world is a blast, but ultimately, all of that will pass away and be replaced by the ‘next thing,’” he said. “What really matters in this life is our relationship with Jesus, and how we love those around us. We do a lot internationally, but one of my favorite things to do in the U.S. is to go and meet homeless people under a railroad track in my hometown and take them out to dinner and talk to them. People living in poverty—domestic or international—deserve to be shown love. That is what The Bible is all about! That is what Jesus did! And...I want my life to look like Jesus.”
“My goal is this—songs are important, music is fun, touring the world is a blast, but ultimately, all of that will pass away and be replaced by the ‘next thing,’” he said. “What really matters in this life is our relationship with Jesus, and how we love those around us. We do a lot internationally, but one of my favorite things to do in the U.S. is to go and meet homeless people under a railroad track in my hometown and take them out to dinner and talk to them. People living in poverty—domestic or international—deserve to be shown love. That is what The Bible is all about! That is what Jesus did! And...I want my life to look like Jesus.”
Monday, December 13, 2010
Fall Leaves (a haiku)
 |
| Autumn 2010 |
Fall Leaves
Beautiful colors--
Crimson, gold, and jade--
What caused you to fall?
My Best Friend (a tanka)
My Best Friend
Loves God and people
Is as sincere as they come
She is an artist,
French-speaker, writer, and sage
My best friend's name is Kaitlynn.
 |
| Kaitlynn, 2/2010. |
Loves God and people
Is as sincere as they come
She is an artist,
French-speaker, writer, and sage
My best friend's name is Kaitlynn.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Criticism of Ernest Hemingway's Article "Old Constan"
The Toronto Daily Star's October 28, 1922 article featuring "Old Constan" penned by the late Ernest Hemingway, an author from the "Lost Generation," was designed with the intention of acquainting the reader with the sights, smells, tastes, and sounds of early twentieth-century Turkey. Hemingway described the always-bustling city of Constantinople(now the modern-day capital Istanbul) with such particulars that made even the most commonplace sights something of a foreign enigma to be eagerly decoded by the interested reader. Of the East, he depicted both the charm, as well as the harsh realities that were familiar to the area post-World War I.
"In the morning when you wake and see a mist over the Golden Horn with the minarets rising out of it slim and clean towards the sun and muezzin calling the faithful to prayer in a voice that soars and dips like an aria from a Russian opera, you have the magic of the East...," began his vibrant report on "Constan," as the locals fondly then referred to Constantinople. This journalistic piece's descriptions have kept my attention and also have inspired me to one day see some of the awesome sights that Hemingway glimpsed during his time in Turkey.
Hemingway wrote this piece in the first-person form(in present times this is usually discouraged), filling it with vivid imagery of Turkey during the early 1920s. If only there were more reports with such descriptions as these in the newspapers today--perhaps the reader would then feel as if he were actually alongside the reporter, encountering the sights and sounds of the destinations that are novel to his present experiences thus far, instead of simply dismissing the current events happening across the globe as matters that should not concern him; since, he does not, at present, reside there.
While enjoying a number of his lovely descriptions of "Constan," I noted that certain sadness seemed to linger on even after I was finished consuming all of the information in this piece. It seems that he, in my opinion, although justly describing the harsh realities of life post-World War I, continued to paint to a superfluous degree a rather hopeless, pessimistic view of everyday life in Turkey and of life in general.
While I do not argue that his writing career had some fine points in it, I, being an ardent reader, was disappointed by his overall gloomy approach to the topic. While this article was indeed a form of journalism, I would refrain from calling it truly "great."
"In the morning when you wake and see a mist over the Golden Horn with the minarets rising out of it slim and clean towards the sun and muezzin calling the faithful to prayer in a voice that soars and dips like an aria from a Russian opera, you have the magic of the East...," began his vibrant report on "Constan," as the locals fondly then referred to Constantinople. This journalistic piece's descriptions have kept my attention and also have inspired me to one day see some of the awesome sights that Hemingway glimpsed during his time in Turkey.
Hemingway wrote this piece in the first-person form(in present times this is usually discouraged), filling it with vivid imagery of Turkey during the early 1920s. If only there were more reports with such descriptions as these in the newspapers today--perhaps the reader would then feel as if he were actually alongside the reporter, encountering the sights and sounds of the destinations that are novel to his present experiences thus far, instead of simply dismissing the current events happening across the globe as matters that should not concern him; since, he does not, at present, reside there.
While enjoying a number of his lovely descriptions of "Constan," I noted that certain sadness seemed to linger on even after I was finished consuming all of the information in this piece. It seems that he, in my opinion, although justly describing the harsh realities of life post-World War I, continued to paint to a superfluous degree a rather hopeless, pessimistic view of everyday life in Turkey and of life in general.
While I do not argue that his writing career had some fine points in it, I, being an ardent reader, was disappointed by his overall gloomy approach to the topic. While this article was indeed a form of journalism, I would refrain from calling it truly "great."
Everfound Rock the Halls in Russian
My favorite Christmas song('O Holy Night') + Russian = AWESOME! :)
Like what you see? Please feel free to check out the band's website, http://www.everfoundmusic.com/. Sposiba! (Thank you!) :)
The Beatles - Can't Buy Me Love (Live)
"Can't buy me love, everybody tells me so/Can't buy me love, no no no, no/Say you don't need no diamond ring and I'll be satisfied/Tell me that you want the kind of thing that money just can't buy/I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love..."
I Don't Believe in Coincidences, And This is Why... :)
I don't believe in coincidences anymore--only in divine appointments. It seems that one story amazingly leads into another, and into another. God the Author has created beautiful stories, each one a chapter that is contributing with countless others into what seems to be a never-ending myriad of mellifluous melodies for His glory. Since meeting Ruslan Odnoralov, keyboardist and guitarist from the band Everfound at the Lifelight Christian music festival in 2008, I especially have refused to give any credit to "chance" or to "luck." At first, my conversation with Ruslan didn't seem like a big deal, but what has come as a result from it has made quite a series of wonderful impressions on my life. Little did I realize at the time, that, had I not walked into the merch tent that Friday afternoon, I would not have met so many AWESOME people! I thank God that I just 'happened' to walk into the merch tent, 'happened' to walk over to Everfound's table, and just 'happened' to talk with Ruslan, and become interested in Everfound's music. The following year, Everfound was at Lifelight again. While waiting in an autograph line for them after their show, I met an incredible friend of mine. Her name is Amy M. She is so sweet, and is very dear to my heart. After meeting Amy, another great story began. During this past year at Lifelight 2010, I was walking through the merch tent, and heard a voice behind me cry out, "I LOVE EVERFOUND!" I turned around and saw my soon-to-be friend Aiste M. standing there. She is such a delight, and also is my Russian-learning buddy! Here another great story began, as well. These are just two of the melodies that are being beautifully played out in this overall indescribably amazing song of the Master Musician's, with "I don't believe in coincidences anymore" being but six of the lyrics in the chorus that is my life.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Driving Through the Black Hills in October
 |
| Black Hills, South Dakota, USA~2010 |
Driving through the Black Hills in October
I look out, and see the autumn colors
And sip my coffee and gaze at the snow
That adorns both the ground and pine trees' gold.
The heater's warmth and voices conversing
Blending together with pine trees's scent
Create a beautiful memory here
As we go through the Hills in October.
~2010~this was inspired by a car ride that I went on during the day in October last year... :)
Friday, November 26, 2010
Sunday Night
"That was incredible!" seventeen-year old Tatyana Tereshkova exclaimed to no one in particular, as she hurriedly jumped into the passenger seat of the grey 1984 Buick Skyhawk, in an effort to escape the harsh November wind. "What did you think of the concert?" she asked her eighteen-year old brother Vadim.
"It was very good. Ochen harasho," he replied.
Tatyana shook her head. "Seriously!? Vadim Tereshkov, is that all that you thought of that completely amazing rock concert?! Dude, it was a-maz-ing," she reminded him, holding each syllable for emphasis as she did so.
Vadim pretended not to hear her, and instead asked his sister if she was hungry. "I am," she answered him, explaining, "I was so excited for the concert tonight, that I haven't eaten anything since breakfast this morning. Yeah, I'm starving."
Vadim rolled his eyes. "Whose fault is that?" He shook his head. "Do you wanna text Katya and Mike to see if they want to go eat with us tonight?"
"Sure," Tatyana nodded, her green eyes bright with excitement. Her nod was accompanied by a huge smile. "I wonder what they thought of the concert?" she said.
Not waiting for Vadim to answer, she reached into her jean pocket, and retrieved her slim silver-colored cell phone. As soon as she had texted Katya and Mike, she leaned back into her seat, thinking about the painful text message that she had received four hours earlier. The text message had read, "Hey jus so uk I did more cuts im sorry..." Each time Tatyana read and reread the frightening text, the individual black characters on the screen seemed to be working as sharp blades, tearing her apart inside, as they cut deeper and deeper into Tatyana's heart that was silently bleeding for her hurting friend.
Even though she had only really known him for three days now, she realized that he obviously felt that he could trust her with these startling secrets that had already been written in the history book of his young life so far.
Tatyana had first met sixteen-year old Jeremy Trevor while volunteering at her church's clothing drive that was held on Friday afternoon. She and a few of her friends had been busily folding slightly-used sweaters, when they first noticed the 5'6" dark-haired teenage boy enter into the warehouse. He was helping carry several cardboard boxes filled with socks that were to be distributed later. He had on a faded grey Beatles t-shirt, well-worn jeans, and a pair of black Converse Chuck Taylor All-Star shoes.
Tatyana's good friend, Aiste, having seen the unfamiliar face of the teenage boy, quickly put down the beige sweater that she had been folding, and ran over to where he was, her milk chocolate-colored eyes giving off both excitement and warmth at the sighting of this stranger, and, soon-to-be friend, whom she was confident to greet. Kjirsten and Nikita quickly joined Aiste in meeting the new arrival. Tatyana saw the warm exchange between the four of them, and decided to go over and introduce herself.
The teenager introduced himself as Jeremy Trevor. The five of them continued to converse with each other for the duration of the church's clothing drive. After it was over, the four invited Jeremy to come with them to the rock concert that would be held on Sunday night. Jeremy had explained to them that he wouldn't be able to make it, but thanked them for asking him to join them anyway.
Now, as Tatyana was sitting here looking out the window of their grey Skyhawk, the gorgeous Rockies of Colorado staring back at her, she wondered what Jeremy was facing tonight. She thought about the cuts that he had made on his arms. Her eyes filled with tears as she imagined him, maybe even now, marking his arms with a blade, in an attempt to release some of the pain that was inside of him. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her cell phone's ringtone. She looked down at her phone, and saw a name appear on the front screen. Picking up the phone, she answered. "Hello? Jeremy?"
"Tatyana, I have three more cuts on my arm. Where's the scissors?" his voice faded for a second and then returned. Tatyana could hear the pain in his voice, and sensed that he had been crying.
"Jeremy, what's going on?" Tatyana asked, attempting to silence the panic that was threatening to take over her words.
"Where are you?" his words came out in a rush.
"Vadim and I are just leaving the concert, and we were going to go get a bite to eat. Did you want us to come over and pick you up?"
"No, I can't. Tatyana, can you please come over now for a little while? I need you guys."
"Jeremy, we'll be right over," Tatyana assured him.
"Hurry! I can't take this much longer!" Jeremy cried, choking back a sob.
Tatyana tried to reassure him, saying that it would be all right, and that they would be there as soon as possible. She and Vadim prayed for Jeremy as Vadim took the quickest route to Jeremy's house. As soon as they approached Jeremy's street, they noticed a figure on the side of the road. Realizing that it was Jeremy, they quickly drove over to where he stood, and stopped their car. They hurriedly opened their doors, and rushed out to meet him.
Although Tatyana and Vadim were only wearing light sweatshirts, they ignored the cold night air, and spent the next hour talking to Jeremy. They listened to him, as he told them heartbreaking stories that had taken place in his own life. They heard the undeniable sadness in his voice as he spoke.
"I don't care if I get beat up tomorrow after school by some kids who hate me. In fact, I'll let them beat me up," Jeremy said.
"You don't wanna do that," Tatyana interjected. With concern in her voice, she added, "So, have you ever considered taking your life before?"
"Yeah. Actually, I was thinking of doing it tonight," Jeremy said.
"Buddy, you don't wanna do that," Tatyana replied.
"Why not?" Jeremy asked.
"Look, I'm sorry that you've had all of this happen to you. You have no idea how sorry I am. But I want you to know that there is hope. You were made for more than this. You are not worthless. I believe that there's gonna be a day(and it's coming soon!)when you won't be cutting yourself anymore, and until that day comes, we're gonna be here for you. And after that day? We're still gonna be here for you. People love you and care about you. Know that you're not alone," Tatyana told him.
Vadim nodded. "You're infinitely important to us, Jeremy. Call us anytime, even in the middle of the night, and we will be here for you."
"But I don't want to bother you guys," Jeremy responded.
"You won't be bothering us!" Vadim declared. He added, "You're more important to us than sleep, Jeremy!"
Jeremy slowly nodded. "Thanks, you guys. Hey, so I'd better go."
As soon as they gave Jeremy some final words of encouragement, Vadim and Tatyana left to go back to the grey Skyhawk and depart for home.
On the way home, Tatyana received a text from Jeremy. It said, "Thanks 4 stopping by. At least somebody cares." At the bottom of the message, Tatyana noticed that Jeremy had changed his text signature. Tatyana noted that the previous messages that he had sent her before they had met tonight, had said "~Live Each Day Like Its Ur Last~." Tatyana wiped a tear from her eye, and said a silent prayer of joy, as she read the new signature that Jeremy had written in its place. It said: "Wen Life Gets Hard Push Thru It!"
"It was very good. Ochen harasho," he replied.
Tatyana shook her head. "Seriously!? Vadim Tereshkov, is that all that you thought of that completely amazing rock concert?! Dude, it was a-maz-ing," she reminded him, holding each syllable for emphasis as she did so.
Vadim pretended not to hear her, and instead asked his sister if she was hungry. "I am," she answered him, explaining, "I was so excited for the concert tonight, that I haven't eaten anything since breakfast this morning. Yeah, I'm starving."
Vadim rolled his eyes. "Whose fault is that?" He shook his head. "Do you wanna text Katya and Mike to see if they want to go eat with us tonight?"
"Sure," Tatyana nodded, her green eyes bright with excitement. Her nod was accompanied by a huge smile. "I wonder what they thought of the concert?" she said.
Not waiting for Vadim to answer, she reached into her jean pocket, and retrieved her slim silver-colored cell phone. As soon as she had texted Katya and Mike, she leaned back into her seat, thinking about the painful text message that she had received four hours earlier. The text message had read, "Hey jus so uk I did more cuts im sorry..." Each time Tatyana read and reread the frightening text, the individual black characters on the screen seemed to be working as sharp blades, tearing her apart inside, as they cut deeper and deeper into Tatyana's heart that was silently bleeding for her hurting friend.
Even though she had only really known him for three days now, she realized that he obviously felt that he could trust her with these startling secrets that had already been written in the history book of his young life so far.
Tatyana had first met sixteen-year old Jeremy Trevor while volunteering at her church's clothing drive that was held on Friday afternoon. She and a few of her friends had been busily folding slightly-used sweaters, when they first noticed the 5'6" dark-haired teenage boy enter into the warehouse. He was helping carry several cardboard boxes filled with socks that were to be distributed later. He had on a faded grey Beatles t-shirt, well-worn jeans, and a pair of black Converse Chuck Taylor All-Star shoes.
Tatyana's good friend, Aiste, having seen the unfamiliar face of the teenage boy, quickly put down the beige sweater that she had been folding, and ran over to where he was, her milk chocolate-colored eyes giving off both excitement and warmth at the sighting of this stranger, and, soon-to-be friend, whom she was confident to greet. Kjirsten and Nikita quickly joined Aiste in meeting the new arrival. Tatyana saw the warm exchange between the four of them, and decided to go over and introduce herself.
The teenager introduced himself as Jeremy Trevor. The five of them continued to converse with each other for the duration of the church's clothing drive. After it was over, the four invited Jeremy to come with them to the rock concert that would be held on Sunday night. Jeremy had explained to them that he wouldn't be able to make it, but thanked them for asking him to join them anyway.
Now, as Tatyana was sitting here looking out the window of their grey Skyhawk, the gorgeous Rockies of Colorado staring back at her, she wondered what Jeremy was facing tonight. She thought about the cuts that he had made on his arms. Her eyes filled with tears as she imagined him, maybe even now, marking his arms with a blade, in an attempt to release some of the pain that was inside of him. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her cell phone's ringtone. She looked down at her phone, and saw a name appear on the front screen. Picking up the phone, she answered. "Hello? Jeremy?"
"Tatyana, I have three more cuts on my arm. Where's the scissors?" his voice faded for a second and then returned. Tatyana could hear the pain in his voice, and sensed that he had been crying.
"Jeremy, what's going on?" Tatyana asked, attempting to silence the panic that was threatening to take over her words.
"Where are you?" his words came out in a rush.
"Vadim and I are just leaving the concert, and we were going to go get a bite to eat. Did you want us to come over and pick you up?"
"No, I can't. Tatyana, can you please come over now for a little while? I need you guys."
"Jeremy, we'll be right over," Tatyana assured him.
"Hurry! I can't take this much longer!" Jeremy cried, choking back a sob.
Tatyana tried to reassure him, saying that it would be all right, and that they would be there as soon as possible. She and Vadim prayed for Jeremy as Vadim took the quickest route to Jeremy's house. As soon as they approached Jeremy's street, they noticed a figure on the side of the road. Realizing that it was Jeremy, they quickly drove over to where he stood, and stopped their car. They hurriedly opened their doors, and rushed out to meet him.
Although Tatyana and Vadim were only wearing light sweatshirts, they ignored the cold night air, and spent the next hour talking to Jeremy. They listened to him, as he told them heartbreaking stories that had taken place in his own life. They heard the undeniable sadness in his voice as he spoke.
"I don't care if I get beat up tomorrow after school by some kids who hate me. In fact, I'll let them beat me up," Jeremy said.
"You don't wanna do that," Tatyana interjected. With concern in her voice, she added, "So, have you ever considered taking your life before?"
"Yeah. Actually, I was thinking of doing it tonight," Jeremy said.
"Buddy, you don't wanna do that," Tatyana replied.
"Why not?" Jeremy asked.
"Look, I'm sorry that you've had all of this happen to you. You have no idea how sorry I am. But I want you to know that there is hope. You were made for more than this. You are not worthless. I believe that there's gonna be a day(and it's coming soon!)when you won't be cutting yourself anymore, and until that day comes, we're gonna be here for you. And after that day? We're still gonna be here for you. People love you and care about you. Know that you're not alone," Tatyana told him.
Vadim nodded. "You're infinitely important to us, Jeremy. Call us anytime, even in the middle of the night, and we will be here for you."
"But I don't want to bother you guys," Jeremy responded.
"You won't be bothering us!" Vadim declared. He added, "You're more important to us than sleep, Jeremy!"
Jeremy slowly nodded. "Thanks, you guys. Hey, so I'd better go."
As soon as they gave Jeremy some final words of encouragement, Vadim and Tatyana left to go back to the grey Skyhawk and depart for home.
On the way home, Tatyana received a text from Jeremy. It said, "Thanks 4 stopping by. At least somebody cares." At the bottom of the message, Tatyana noticed that Jeremy had changed his text signature. Tatyana noted that the previous messages that he had sent her before they had met tonight, had said "~Live Each Day Like Its Ur Last~." Tatyana wiped a tear from her eye, and said a silent prayer of joy, as she read the new signature that Jeremy had written in its place. It said: "Wen Life Gets Hard Push Thru It!"
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Greeted By Silence...
As I open the glass door and step inside, I am greeted by silence, save the light whirrring of the espresso machine, indie music playing quietly in the background, and the hushed conversations of the others who are present. I embrace the sun's warmth that is flooding through the coffee shop's windows, and breathe in the rich aroma of freshly brewed macchiatos and mochas.
I admire the regional artists' handiwork--anything from black and white photographs to humorous drawings with animated colors--that adorn the walls, which are painted in raw, earthen colors that would perhaps remind one of colors tantamount to soil. I make my way farther in, savoring every moment of being here. I walk over to the counter on the west side of the building, and start to study the menu, looking over the myriad of caffeinated choices that have been written with multi-colored chalk--the chalkboard being a masterpiece of art in itself. I decide on ordering a caramel macchiato latte and chat with the kind barista as she prepares the frothy and delicious creation.
After receiving the hot cup and thanking her, I reach for several napkins, and walk back to the front of the coffee shop toward a comfortable corner that is parallel to the entrance. I set my vividly colored Mexican-made bag, which at this point is bulging with its contents, on a small dark-wood table and seat myself on a comfy chair that is right under the window. I take out a few of the contents from my burdened bag, somewhat alleviating it from its hard load. After finding my cell phone, journal, and selection of books (at the time I was reading Chasing Tail Lights by Patrick Jones and The Wounded Spirit by Frank Peretti) and placing them out before me on the table, I take out my blue iPod, and, after untangling the falling-apart ear buds, place them into my ears. I let Willet's song "shelter" wash over me, letting the beautiful lyrics sink in.
There is shelter underneath your wing/A fortress won't be shaken/There is refuge in the tower, that is higher than I/And I try to do justice, and to love mercy/I want to walk humbly with my God/Hope will keep you warm--a little longer/Faith won't leave you cold--makes you stronger/Love will find you, love will find you/The broken road can seem so low/But there's a hand to hold that never lets go/When hope replaces tears,/In our eyes, we see God, glorified/To love Him, to know Him/Is to go where He sends us to go/Where you are, wherever you've been, wherever you're going/Love will find you.
Shelter. The word has so many meanings for me personally, and the coffee shop where I now find myself sitting in seems to be a fitting definition of one. I have jokingly told my friends before that I would like to take up residence here in this coffeehouse on Arrowhead Parkway, to which they just shake their heads and laugh.
The Dunn Bros. Coffeehouse is certainly one of my preferred places where I like to be. It is one of my definitions of "shelter," in that, while I find it a solace where I can rest, reflect, and be refreshed (in so many ways), it also provides me a chance to focus on the One Who is the ultimate definition of the word, and I'm savoring every moment of being here.
I admire the regional artists' handiwork--anything from black and white photographs to humorous drawings with animated colors--that adorn the walls, which are painted in raw, earthen colors that would perhaps remind one of colors tantamount to soil. I make my way farther in, savoring every moment of being here. I walk over to the counter on the west side of the building, and start to study the menu, looking over the myriad of caffeinated choices that have been written with multi-colored chalk--the chalkboard being a masterpiece of art in itself. I decide on ordering a caramel macchiato latte and chat with the kind barista as she prepares the frothy and delicious creation.
After receiving the hot cup and thanking her, I reach for several napkins, and walk back to the front of the coffee shop toward a comfortable corner that is parallel to the entrance. I set my vividly colored Mexican-made bag, which at this point is bulging with its contents, on a small dark-wood table and seat myself on a comfy chair that is right under the window. I take out a few of the contents from my burdened bag, somewhat alleviating it from its hard load. After finding my cell phone, journal, and selection of books (at the time I was reading Chasing Tail Lights by Patrick Jones and The Wounded Spirit by Frank Peretti) and placing them out before me on the table, I take out my blue iPod, and, after untangling the falling-apart ear buds, place them into my ears. I let Willet's song "shelter" wash over me, letting the beautiful lyrics sink in.
There is shelter underneath your wing/A fortress won't be shaken/There is refuge in the tower, that is higher than I/And I try to do justice, and to love mercy/I want to walk humbly with my God/Hope will keep you warm--a little longer/Faith won't leave you cold--makes you stronger/Love will find you, love will find you/The broken road can seem so low/But there's a hand to hold that never lets go/When hope replaces tears,/In our eyes, we see God, glorified/To love Him, to know Him/Is to go where He sends us to go/Where you are, wherever you've been, wherever you're going/Love will find you.
Shelter. The word has so many meanings for me personally, and the coffee shop where I now find myself sitting in seems to be a fitting definition of one. I have jokingly told my friends before that I would like to take up residence here in this coffeehouse on Arrowhead Parkway, to which they just shake their heads and laugh.
The Dunn Bros. Coffeehouse is certainly one of my preferred places where I like to be. It is one of my definitions of "shelter," in that, while I find it a solace where I can rest, reflect, and be refreshed (in so many ways), it also provides me a chance to focus on the One Who is the ultimate definition of the word, and I'm savoring every moment of being here.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Letter of Introduction...May I Introduce Myself... :)
Dear ___________,
Alas! Senior year has arrived just in time to see my freshman, sophomore, and penultimate years of my secondary education make both their stately entrances, and, their rather joyous exits. I am both appreciative and thrilled to be able to have obtained this opportunity of studying my final year at _____________ for the primary purpose of acquiring more knowledge on the subject of writing. During the course of the present semester, my profound hope is that whatever aptitude that I may possess in the topic may be better refined. I will most certainly labor to give my best performance in the subject in a manner that will not allow it to be perfunctory in the least.
Accompanied with my dedication to writing, are other appurtenances, of which, I believe, are aiding me in becoming a better writer and, also, I daresay, a more informed tenant of the present world. Of these, three of the focuses that have me most captivated are anthropology, the diversity of music, and reading. Collectively, they are allowing me to see the world, and history itself, from new and unique perspectives.
Studying anthropology through means of literature and media, I, have, theoretically, been able to journey outside of my state’s border, and away to far-off places, where, I can co-exist with Russians, Britons, Australians, and Finns—as well as among the indigenous tribes of Africa. Even though I, in reality, have not been able to travel to these people’s homelands as of yet, I have, nonetheless, been privileged to become acquainted with friends who have come to Sioux Falls from across the nations.
Sudan, Russia, Brazil, Mexico, the Philippines—these are only a few of the many places from which my delightfully unique friends have traveled from. They—especially my Russian-speaking acquaintances—have instilled in me a desire to learn their native tongues, of which I am currently learning Russian, as well as continuing to broaden my understanding of the Spanish language. In particular, the Russian culture has me deeply fascinated. I look forward to obtaining more information as to their way of life (and in the process consume more bowls of borscht as well)!
Flyleaf’s Memento Mori, Kelly Clarkson’s Breakaway, Coldplay’s Viva La Vida—these albums are currently resting on top of my dark-chocolate-colored dresser next to the media player in my bedroom, each disc eagerly aspiring for me to grant them the opportunity of articulating to me, however direct or indirect it may seem, their ideals and thoughts on life’s topics through their mellifluous melodies and words.
While listening to music, whether by myself or in the company of others, I endeavor to utilize proper discretion in what I am allowing myself to take in, not wanting to offer occasion for unsuitable thoughts to formulate in my already naturally sinful mind, as well as in the minds of everyone else. No, I’d rather determine to give my attention to the art that I know to be lovely and constructive, instead of to its antithesis, which is, in nature being contrary to the former, both perverted and destructive. That being stated, my overall credo on the subject of media is this: the influences to which I permit my rather delicate and impressionable mind to encounter must only contribute to the strengthening and preservation of my ethics, never detracting from them, but instead, building up the bettering of my own well-being, family, friends, church, community, nation, and world.
I take satisfaction in being just one of the many patrons who support the artists who have resolved to make a positive impact in their communities and around the world—the artists who have determined to not only play music and to support the respectable organizations, but also most importantly, to set an example with who they are and how they live, including the way that they treat other people, both on and off-stage.
Knowing that I am helping to promote compassionate, reputable causes with both my time and funds, and that, I am, in some method, helping to better the lives of beautiful strangers, gives me reason to consider many of the eclectic lyrics and sounds of music blasting through my stereo’s speakers…harmonies that promote hope…words that are worth my time.
Words. I know not how to express in a small amount of terms just how much they have truly aided in changing my life. Reading, I have found, is a great treasure indeed. Through literature’s impressively powerful influence, one can both receive words of wisdom, as well as return the favor by bestowing to others what he has learned throughout his many experiences in life besides.
For me personally, there are certain books that have already served as monuments in my young life thus far, books that have and are still continuing to mold me into the young woman who I am now and am continuing to become.
Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl is the poignant story of teenager Anne Frank, a Jewish girl living in Holland with her family, who was threatened by blitzkrieg and later brutally murdered in a concentration camp in the Holocaust during World War II, after having been hidden away in a “secret annex” above her father’s office for two years. This is a much-loved book in my personal library. Even through the unimaginably hard times during World War II, Anne’s honesty and wittiness has made me appreciate who she was immensely, and has made me look at myself and ask, How would I respond if I were placed in the same position that she was?.
Rachel Scott, another girl, who, like me, also motivated by Anne Frank’s life and love for journaling, is the focus of my favorite biography/autobiography. Written by her parents in her honor, Rachel’s Tears is the story of 17-year-old Columbine victim Rachel Scott, Christian girl who was cruelly murdered by two of her fellow students at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, on Tuesday, April 20th, 1999, for her faith in God. This book, which includes journal entries of Rachel’s, has challenged me in a myriad of ways.
She was a person who was not afraid to reach out to others and to make sure that they felt loved and included, even if it meant going out of her way to help people. Her “chain reaction of love” still continues to live on, even after her untimely death that occurred a little over a decade ago. Rachel’s life has definitely motivated me to want to become a better person, friend, and citizen.
I have taken the statement that she had written on the front cover of her journal—“I WON’T BE LABELED AS AVERAGE”—as my own. Her wise words have definitely helped me to grow in my faith as well. “What is life when living without the Lifemaker?” she asked. “He [Jesus Christ] gave His life for me. I will give my life to Him,” she decided.
Even though I never had the opportunity of meeting Rachel, her legacy truly does live on. I have met her mother Beth Nimmo and have heard her speak about her daughter’s love for people, and how we also can extend a “chain reaction of love” to others—just like Rachel did. I am most honored to be friends with Rachel’s sister, Bethanee Scott McCandless. Just from corresponding with Bethanee and seeing how she reaches out and encourages people, I can imagine how Rachel did the same.
Through anthropology, the diversity of music, and reading, I have procured an invaluable wealth of knowledge about people, the world, and history. It is my supreme desire, that, through creative writing, I may use the wisdom and knowledge that I have obtained so far in this journey of life, to encourage, to reach out, to benefit, and to aid people who are struggling. To show Hope to the hopeless…to make a difference…one that will last.
Writing to Make a Difference,
Jenna
Alas! Senior year has arrived just in time to see my freshman, sophomore, and penultimate years of my secondary education make both their stately entrances, and, their rather joyous exits. I am both appreciative and thrilled to be able to have obtained this opportunity of studying my final year at _____________ for the primary purpose of acquiring more knowledge on the subject of writing. During the course of the present semester, my profound hope is that whatever aptitude that I may possess in the topic may be better refined. I will most certainly labor to give my best performance in the subject in a manner that will not allow it to be perfunctory in the least.
Accompanied with my dedication to writing, are other appurtenances, of which, I believe, are aiding me in becoming a better writer and, also, I daresay, a more informed tenant of the present world. Of these, three of the focuses that have me most captivated are anthropology, the diversity of music, and reading. Collectively, they are allowing me to see the world, and history itself, from new and unique perspectives.
Studying anthropology through means of literature and media, I, have, theoretically, been able to journey outside of my state’s border, and away to far-off places, where, I can co-exist with Russians, Britons, Australians, and Finns—as well as among the indigenous tribes of Africa. Even though I, in reality, have not been able to travel to these people’s homelands as of yet, I have, nonetheless, been privileged to become acquainted with friends who have come to Sioux Falls from across the nations.
Sudan, Russia, Brazil, Mexico, the Philippines—these are only a few of the many places from which my delightfully unique friends have traveled from. They—especially my Russian-speaking acquaintances—have instilled in me a desire to learn their native tongues, of which I am currently learning Russian, as well as continuing to broaden my understanding of the Spanish language. In particular, the Russian culture has me deeply fascinated. I look forward to obtaining more information as to their way of life (and in the process consume more bowls of borscht as well)!
Flyleaf’s Memento Mori, Kelly Clarkson’s Breakaway, Coldplay’s Viva La Vida—these albums are currently resting on top of my dark-chocolate-colored dresser next to the media player in my bedroom, each disc eagerly aspiring for me to grant them the opportunity of articulating to me, however direct or indirect it may seem, their ideals and thoughts on life’s topics through their mellifluous melodies and words.
While listening to music, whether by myself or in the company of others, I endeavor to utilize proper discretion in what I am allowing myself to take in, not wanting to offer occasion for unsuitable thoughts to formulate in my already naturally sinful mind, as well as in the minds of everyone else. No, I’d rather determine to give my attention to the art that I know to be lovely and constructive, instead of to its antithesis, which is, in nature being contrary to the former, both perverted and destructive. That being stated, my overall credo on the subject of media is this: the influences to which I permit my rather delicate and impressionable mind to encounter must only contribute to the strengthening and preservation of my ethics, never detracting from them, but instead, building up the bettering of my own well-being, family, friends, church, community, nation, and world.
I take satisfaction in being just one of the many patrons who support the artists who have resolved to make a positive impact in their communities and around the world—the artists who have determined to not only play music and to support the respectable organizations, but also most importantly, to set an example with who they are and how they live, including the way that they treat other people, both on and off-stage.
Knowing that I am helping to promote compassionate, reputable causes with both my time and funds, and that, I am, in some method, helping to better the lives of beautiful strangers, gives me reason to consider many of the eclectic lyrics and sounds of music blasting through my stereo’s speakers…harmonies that promote hope…words that are worth my time.
Words. I know not how to express in a small amount of terms just how much they have truly aided in changing my life. Reading, I have found, is a great treasure indeed. Through literature’s impressively powerful influence, one can both receive words of wisdom, as well as return the favor by bestowing to others what he has learned throughout his many experiences in life besides.
For me personally, there are certain books that have already served as monuments in my young life thus far, books that have and are still continuing to mold me into the young woman who I am now and am continuing to become.
Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl is the poignant story of teenager Anne Frank, a Jewish girl living in Holland with her family, who was threatened by blitzkrieg and later brutally murdered in a concentration camp in the Holocaust during World War II, after having been hidden away in a “secret annex” above her father’s office for two years. This is a much-loved book in my personal library. Even through the unimaginably hard times during World War II, Anne’s honesty and wittiness has made me appreciate who she was immensely, and has made me look at myself and ask, How would I respond if I were placed in the same position that she was?.
Rachel Scott, another girl, who, like me, also motivated by Anne Frank’s life and love for journaling, is the focus of my favorite biography/autobiography. Written by her parents in her honor, Rachel’s Tears is the story of 17-year-old Columbine victim Rachel Scott, Christian girl who was cruelly murdered by two of her fellow students at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, on Tuesday, April 20th, 1999, for her faith in God. This book, which includes journal entries of Rachel’s, has challenged me in a myriad of ways.
She was a person who was not afraid to reach out to others and to make sure that they felt loved and included, even if it meant going out of her way to help people. Her “chain reaction of love” still continues to live on, even after her untimely death that occurred a little over a decade ago. Rachel’s life has definitely motivated me to want to become a better person, friend, and citizen.
I have taken the statement that she had written on the front cover of her journal—“I WON’T BE LABELED AS AVERAGE”—as my own. Her wise words have definitely helped me to grow in my faith as well. “What is life when living without the Lifemaker?” she asked. “He [Jesus Christ] gave His life for me. I will give my life to Him,” she decided.
Even though I never had the opportunity of meeting Rachel, her legacy truly does live on. I have met her mother Beth Nimmo and have heard her speak about her daughter’s love for people, and how we also can extend a “chain reaction of love” to others—just like Rachel did. I am most honored to be friends with Rachel’s sister, Bethanee Scott McCandless. Just from corresponding with Bethanee and seeing how she reaches out and encourages people, I can imagine how Rachel did the same.
Through anthropology, the diversity of music, and reading, I have procured an invaluable wealth of knowledge about people, the world, and history. It is my supreme desire, that, through creative writing, I may use the wisdom and knowledge that I have obtained so far in this journey of life, to encourage, to reach out, to benefit, and to aid people who are struggling. To show Hope to the hopeless…to make a difference…one that will last.
Writing to Make a Difference,
Jenna
Sunday, August 29, 2010
"Where I Am From" Poem
I've come from many a place
Yet I don't consider them my home
I am but a traveler here—
Why would I need an abode?
Ah, here I was born and raised
Sioux Falls is my dear hometown!
A blessed young woman am I
Living where such freedom abounds!
So my longing is indeed
To see all captive set free
And through the art of writing
Encourage humanity
To break away from apathy
And promulgate liberty
Memento mori!*
And so I've decided
To become a paradox
Responsible vagabond
Company to Wanderlust
I will set off with my trunks
Filled with sweet memories!
Remembering from where I've come
And making room for new scenes!
In my bags, I've packed away
‘Storehouses of memories’—
As my grandma used to say.
How I loved those summer days
Spent with my grandmother playing
Guess Who, Sorry, and Scrambled Eggs!
And the food that she prepared—
Those creamy banana shakes!
Oh, the aroma of her
Tuna gravy was amazing!
And our fun games of Scrabble—
Her ‘new words’ made me smile.
And her laughter so sweet,
Made small ripples on her cheeks
Yes, we were the best of friends,
Age is nothing, I tend to think.
We would share special moments, when
We'd cry and she'd hold my hand
'Love you, Jenna-girl!' she'd say
And I knew it'd be okay...
These times I carry with me,
Knowing I'm so blessed to be
Here on this path traversing
Moving, hardly stopping
Growing up I've exchanged things
Much more than monetary!
Like Disney World for Vladi,*
‘Hide and seek’ for archery,
Reading instead of TV,
Coffee without much cream…
While interests are shifting,
I pray not love and sympathy!
--jenna
*Memento mori: Latin for “remember that you must die.”
*short for Vladivostok, Russia. Locals simply call Vladivostok, ‘Vladi.’
Yet I don't consider them my home
I am but a traveler here—
Why would I need an abode?
Ah, here I was born and raised
Sioux Falls is my dear hometown!
A blessed young woman am I
Living where such freedom abounds!
So my longing is indeed
To see all captive set free
And through the art of writing
Encourage humanity
To break away from apathy
And promulgate liberty
Memento mori!*
And so I've decided
To become a paradox
Responsible vagabond
Company to Wanderlust
I will set off with my trunks
Filled with sweet memories!
Remembering from where I've come
And making room for new scenes!
In my bags, I've packed away
‘Storehouses of memories’—
As my grandma used to say.
How I loved those summer days
Spent with my grandmother playing
Guess Who, Sorry, and Scrambled Eggs!
And the food that she prepared—
Those creamy banana shakes!
Oh, the aroma of her
Tuna gravy was amazing!
And our fun games of Scrabble—
Her ‘new words’ made me smile.
And her laughter so sweet,
Made small ripples on her cheeks
Yes, we were the best of friends,
Age is nothing, I tend to think.
We would share special moments, when
We'd cry and she'd hold my hand
'Love you, Jenna-girl!' she'd say
And I knew it'd be okay...
These times I carry with me,
Knowing I'm so blessed to be
Here on this path traversing
Moving, hardly stopping
Growing up I've exchanged things
Much more than monetary!
Like Disney World for Vladi,*
‘Hide and seek’ for archery,
Reading instead of TV,
Coffee without much cream…
While interests are shifting,
I pray not love and sympathy!
--jenna
*Memento mori: Latin for “remember that you must die.”
*short for Vladivostok, Russia. Locals simply call Vladivostok, ‘Vladi.’
"Veracious Vagabonds"(formerly known as "Veracity Wins") & "Grace Notes..."
Hi Friends!
Since I have determined to try to start typing my thoughts into the computer again, I have decided to have "Grace Notes and Authentic Anthems" be the blog where I will be posting music lyrics, book and movie quotes(media in general), and so forth into. My eldest blog, "Veracious Vagabonds"(formerly known as "Veracity Wins"), will be the one that I shall try to make more into my journal, and share my thoughts with you on different topics: both important and not. Quite simply, as of now, I hope to put more time into "Vagabonds," as it is the central blog. We'll see what happens--I hope to go with whatever seems better in making changes. Also I what I am sharing in "Grace Notes"(e.g., book reviews, music lyrics...)is essentially the same in "Vagabonds." So, yes, I believe that quite covers it.
"Chord"ially Yours,
Jenna
Since I have determined to try to start typing my thoughts into the computer again, I have decided to have "Grace Notes and Authentic Anthems" be the blog where I will be posting music lyrics, book and movie quotes(media in general), and so forth into. My eldest blog, "Veracious Vagabonds"(formerly known as "Veracity Wins"), will be the one that I shall try to make more into my journal, and share my thoughts with you on different topics: both important and not. Quite simply, as of now, I hope to put more time into "Vagabonds," as it is the central blog. We'll see what happens--I hope to go with whatever seems better in making changes. Also I what I am sharing in "Grace Notes"(e.g., book reviews, music lyrics...)is essentially the same in "Vagabonds." So, yes, I believe that quite covers it.
"Chord"ially Yours,
Jenna
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