Thanksgiving

Did you know that there is no evidence or supporting materials to draw the conclusion that a big "feast" between the Pilgrims and the Native Americans ever took place?

But I'm not complaining about the tradition. :)

This was forwarded to me from one of my friends. I thought I would share it for those who havent seen it. It's quite nice. Makes you think about the people you know who are in the Service.
Enjoy-



You stay up for 16 hours.
He stays up for days on end.




You take a warm shower to help you wake up.
He goes days or weeks without running water.




You complain of a "headache", and call in sick.
He gets shot at as others are hit, and keeps moving forward.




You put on your anti war/don't support the troops shirt, and go meet up with your friends.
He still fights for your right to wear that shirt.




You talk trash about your "buddies" that aren't with you.
He knows he may not see some of his buddies again.




You walk down the beach, staring at all the pretty girls.
He patrols the streets, searching for insurgents and terrorists.




You complain about how hot it is.
He wears his heavy gear, not daring to take off his helmet to wipe his brow.




You go out to lunch, and complain because the restaurant got your order wrong.
He doesn't get to eat today.




Your maid makes your bed and washes your clothes.
He wears the same things for weeks, but makes sure his weapons are clean.




You go to the mall and get your hair redone.
He doesn't have time to brush his teeth today.




You're angry because your class ran 5 minutes over.
He's told he will be held over an extra 2 months.




You call your girlfriend and set a date for tonight.
He waits for the mail to see if there is a letter from home.




You hug and kiss your girlfriend, like you do everyday.
He holds his letter close and smells his love's perfume.




You roll your eyes as a baby cries.
He gets a letter with pictures of his new child, and wonders if they'll ever meet.




You criticize your government, and say that war never solves anything.
He sees the innocent tortured and killed by their own people and remembers why he is fighting.




You hear the jokes about the war, and make fun of men like him.
He hears the gunfire, bombs and screams of the wounded.




You see only what the media wants you to see.
He sees the broken bodies lying around him.




You are asked to go to the store by your parents. You don't.
He does exactly what he is told even if it puts his life in danger.




You stay at home and watch TV.
He takes whatever time he is given to call, write home, sleep, and eat.

Blood

I have blood on my hands.

It’s not red.

It doesn’t come from inside anyone’s flesh. It comes disguised as blue tainted sweaters, as leather shoes, as garnished silver bracelets, as gloves, as love notes, as envied earrings, as classic novels, and identification cards of innocent human beings. It is blood because these people are dead. It’s on my hands because I have taken their belongings as my own. I have another man’s home-baked cornbread in my mouth. I have his thoughts in my head. That man is dead. His blood is on my hands.

I knew where he was going as his bags and clothes were ripped from him and thrown into a nearby pile. I try to take my greedy and lustful eyes off of his belongings that I was soon to scavenge and look at this confused elderly man’s face. He spoke to me in a shaky voice that trailed off in the dusty wind. He asked me where he was going. I just looked at this pitiful being. No words left me-at least not from my mouth. Perhaps my eyes spoke to him, but I did not let out even a whisper. Maybe he thought that didn’t know where they were taking him, or that I didn’t understand his language. However, both of these were not true. I have heard that question asked in a surplus of languages and dialects, so understanding it was not the reason that I denied verbal communication. I find it better to be silent. Deception is charity for these men and women and even worse-children. It is tattooed in our minds. Some of these people we recognize from a seemingly former life and we are the people who choose life or death for these other people. Every decision is like death. I suffocate. There is no escape. I vomit. I curse. I pray. I know I’m a hypocrite. I don’t care. Neither do the men around me. We all are hypocrites here. In our condition there is no such thing as hypocrisy. We pray and curse by the same God. We are witnessing hell on earth. Every night ends short for us, and we must always be up before our bodies are willing to. Every night is shorter for me. I lie awake shaking on my wooden board from the chill in the air. The chill isn’t from the temperature-its from the eerie knowledge that human beings are being tortured and experimented with just minutes away. I vomit. I curse. I pray. As I shake I hear screams, I hear the thousands of innocent men and women asking me that haunting question of where they were going. It plays like a broken record. I know where they are going. I know what will happen to them. I may be unhealthy, but my mind still works. I may be weak. I may be famished. I may be cold. I may be lonely. I may be in physical pain from the many various diseases in this camp, but I am still on the better side of the fence than these other human beings. They are girded into chambers like sheep, where toxic gas is released and they are inhumanely murdered in mass amounts. I can hear them scream. I can feel the ground vibrate as innocent human beings pound the concrete walls for any attempt of escape. I can smell the odor of scorched flesh and baked hair. I vomit. I curse. I pray. And then I find myself, with my mud covered deformed fingers, gripping the holes of the chain-link fence as I watch a new train arrive and its passengers jump off onto the ground with their cherished belongings in their hands as if they were headed to a Western resort or ceremony. It’s a non-stop cycle. They look around and once again I undesirably make eye contact with them. Again I say no words. They ask me that infamous question and I vomit. I curse. I pray. I have to lie down. I will not scavenge these belongings. I find shade and I lay curled up in the cool dirt. I cry. The dirt and soot on my face immediately soaks up my tears. And then I think of the most detestable thing. My mind has the nerve to raise the question asking me if I’m a good person. Curse my mind! I try to choke myself for having such a despicable thought. I know better. Good? If I were anything it would be the opposite of good. I attempt to vomit but my body refuses to allow it. I try to cough up blood. It denies it. As I lay in the shade of a concrete wall, people are being led to camps where they will only receive inhuman treatment. There’s no good in these camps. There’s no love, no mercy. Even the religious rabbi has begun using the pages of his “holy book” for gauze on his bleeding sores that infest his body. Religion? Faith? And my mind has the ability to make me ponder if I am a good person? I close my eyes. The phrase that is tattooed on our minds revisits me. Deception is charity. Deception is charity. Deception is charity! Is it good for me to stay silent when the new arrivals ask me that never dying question? If I were to tell them of the fate that they soon would be experiencing, would it rescue them? No! No word that I could conjure up could save them. Am I giving hope to them by my face of silence? Is it charitable for us to deceive the innocent men and women into bringing all their belongings just so we can scavenge them while they take their walk of death? There are Red Cross ambulances driving back and forth. To the arrivals that’s all they are- ambulances. To me they are death on wheels. They transport the gas. And this is good? I disgust myself. But yet I can do nothing else. I am trapped. Thousands of human beings’ blood has been on my hands, but there is nothing that I can do. There is nothing I can say. By saying nothing I may be doing the greatest good. So my pitiful self, curled up in the dirt, naked, starving, soaked in my own vomit, could actually be considered a good person despite my condition? Again I vomit. I curse. I pray. I conclude that to live in the worst of times does not negate my duty to live as the best. I am good- pitifully good; a good deserving of damnation. I am suffocating. I have blood on my hands.

I had a paper to write in my English class based on a short story called, "This way for gas, ladies and gentlemen." by Borowski. If you havent read it I encourage you to. The assignment was to put yourself in the narrators position and decide if you were a good person. I wanted to just take some of the points and write a new post on good and evil but it is 1:15am and I really just want to go to sleep. So take a look and tell me what you think. And if you havent read the story go do it. Its a sad story about the Holocaust.

IM HAPPY TO ANNOUNCE THAT AFTER LAST NIGHT MY WRITERS BLOCK IS NO MORE!
Last night was the strangest mindset I have ever been in. I just thought about so much.
This chat below was with the greatest girl ever, Alissa Serio, at about 2am. I am waverider2137.
I hope the layout isnt too confusing but this is the conversation that got me out of writers block.
And I will have two more posts up within the next day- one on good and evil so STAY TUNED!!!

And thanks everyone for checking it out. Theres been over 1000+ visitors to this site. Im sorry I havent had much to say lately, but writers block is over....

And I apologize if this is confusing. Keep in mind that it was realllllllllyyyy late.
I havent edited any of this so if punctuation is off I also apologize.

Thanks!

-Ben





waverider2137: i dont belong here
x love to love u: where?
waverider2137: here
x love to love u: here as in where
waverider2137: i belong in an apartment with a porch
waverider2137: with one hanging light
waverider2137: not here
x love to love u: well you cant just be where you belong right off the bat
x love to love u: you would appreciate it, you need to know where you dont belong to know where you do belong
waverider2137: i have to hit the ball myself though
x love to love u: wouldnt*
waverider2137: or maybe vise versa
x love to love u: mmhm
waverider2137: whats the group of people called that belong where they initially are
waverider2137: lucky? spoiled?
x love to love u: it depends
x love to love u: i think lucky, if they dont appreciate it then spoiled
waverider2137: would you appreciated it if you didnt know where you dont belong
waverider2137: in other words if you grew up where you belong and never tasted the place that you dont belong, then how can you appreciate it
x love to love u: if your aware of what else is out there i think so
waverider2137: how can we be aware
waverider2137: news, media, friends
waverider2137: they are all part of your belongings
waverider2137: strangers are the only people who arent
waverider2137: and once you talk to them they are no longer strangers
x love to love u: well dont you appreciate not being tortured, or abandoned, or beaten, but you havent technically experienced it yourself i hope
waverider2137: you might think you appreciaite it
waverider2137: but until you have been
waverider2137: how can you fully appreciate it
x love to love u: i guess
waverider2137: you know that you dont appreciate your breakfast as much as a third world starving kid would appreciate it
waverider2137: and im not singling you out
waverider2137: im talking in general
x love to love u: yeah
waverider2137: i dont belong here
waverider2137: i want to be there alissa
waverider2137: i want to know all the feelings
waverider2137: i want to hear al the sounds
x love to love u: you will though
waverider2137: and smell all the scents
waverider2137: no i wont
x love to love u: why not
waverider2137: how can i
x love to love u: wait are you still talking about the apartment with the porch? or the 3rd world country>
waverider2137: both
waverider2137: all
waverider2137: everything
waverider2137: i want to feel it all
waverider2137: i want to be able to feel what everyone feels
waverider2137: to be affected in the way others are affected
waverider2137: i dont want to be spoiled
waverider2137: i dont want to be where i belong and stay there
waverider2137: i dont belong here
waverider2137: and i know it
waverider2137: brb
x love to love u: lol well i think that you go experience as much as you possibly can, and everything else you try your best to understand and be aware even though you cant fully be there and experience it
x love to love u: alright
waverider2137: nobody does
waverider2137: nobody does that
x love to love u: nobody does what
waverider2137: nobody expeiriences all that they can
x love to love u: okay well whos nobody
x love to love u: whats stopping people that want to
waverider2137: the people who dont
waverider2137: they are
waverider2137: they are the ones that control the media
waverider2137: and give the people who want to a false sense of feeling
x love to love u: how would they have that much control
waverider2137: because
waverider2137: think about it alissa
x love to love u: i think if you can break free of what those people think and influence you to think then theres nothing stopping you from maybe not experiencing EVERYTHING that eevveryone feels, but there nothing stopping you from experiencing a lot
waverider2137: i understand that
waverider2137: but media controls our mind
waverider2137: we think, "oh third world sucks"
x love to love u: yeah
waverider2137: third world has to be worst than "sucks"
waverider2137: its gotta be hell
waverider2137: theres 1 billion people living off of 1 buck each a day
waverider2137: my toothpaste that i dont second think about costs more than that
x love to love u: mmhm
waverider2137: will you make me a promise alissa
x love to love u: yes
waverider2137: when im older
waverider2137: if im not more expeirienced
waverider2137: remind me of this conversation
waverider2137: remind me that i wanted more out of my life
waverider2137: i dont want to give up on myself
waverider2137: but in this day and age its so easy to
waverider2137: dont let me
waverider2137: tell me i want to go back to paris
waverider2137: tell me i want to be in third world
waverider2137: tell me i want to live in the desert
waverider2137: tell me i want to understand things i feel and not just let them be felt
waverider2137: there has to be more to feelings than just the initial impact it places on your body
waverider2137: it has to do something to the mind
waverider2137: and i dont mean just minorl
waverider2137: y*
waverider2137: i mean majorly
waverider2137: there has to be a reason we dream
waverider2137: if our lives are in black and white than we dream in colors
waverider2137: and we add that color for a reason
waverider2137: it gives us something to strive for
waverider2137: and i dont mean "winning the nascar cup"
waverider2137: it makes us strive for things that mean something
waverider2137: which is why we forget our dreams
waverider2137: we forget them by our choice
waverider2137: we forget them because we give up on them
waverider2137: we let go of that added color
waverider2137: and pursue more grey and black and white tangible expeiriences when the intangible is next door
waverider2137: dont let me stay
x love to love u: i promise.

Writers Block

I apologize for not having anything new up recently.
I've been suffering from the infamous disease of 'writers block,' which I rarely ever get.
Dont take this as a sign of this site shutting down or failing to continue with more of the same, there just hasnt been anything in particular that has come to my mind to write about.

One of the best ways to treat this disease is for other people to introduce new ideas. So if any of you 750+ visitors have anything you would like to hear about or talk about just let me know via comment. Hopefully that will help overcome the 'writers block' and we can get back on schedule.

Thanks alot,
-Ben

And you’re so much to rescue, but id do it all for you. Those tears smear the makeup, you cry when you wake up, you know you want to be new. You want to be you.

Who is bringin' chivalry back?

I’ve always been taught and raised to be chivalrous in all my actions to females. Of course I often fail at this, but I see the lack of chivalry in this day and age constantly decrease. We often hear about how ‘back in the day’ boys would always negate themselves to a girl or lady and every action they took would mind and respect the dignity of the female. The men ‘back in the day’ would be appalled by the gross lack of this respect that is shown daily in this modern age. Men are frequently self-centered and don’t even think twice about holding that door open for the women. Men keep the same language that they flippantly use around their buddies when they are joined by a girl. Men don’t offer assistance when they see a woman in need of it. We don’t respect them in our conversations about them once they leave. We fail to offer our jacket to them when they are cold and we continue in our uneducated blabbering instead of engaging conversation. We fail to compliment the little things. We call them inappropriate names as if they were our buddies. We let them pay for their own meal and waste their gas instead of ours. It is unheard of for a man these days to pull out a chair for a woman or to open her car door before his own. We are the first to call “shotgun” to claim the best seat in the car while the girl sits in the back. We don’t change discussion when a girls name is being talked about inappropriately. We often fail to make them think that we have their backs. We fail to make them feel special by respecting their dignity and respecting their ‘girlishness’. If Justin Timberlake already brought sexy back then whose to bring chivalry back?


Notice that I used the pronoun ‘we’ throughout the last paragraph. I am a guilty man just as the rest. I often don’t commit these crimes, which is mostly a result of being taught to be chivalrous throughout my life, but I certainly have committed them before. I know it’s demanding and exhaustive but in all actions we men should treat women with the utmost respect. When I would work the register at a local fast-food restaurant I often observed things that just were unthinkable to me. Many times an obvious couple (holding hands and romantically embracing one another in line) would stand up to the register and order. The girl would order first and I would punch in what she wanted and then look back up waiting to see what the guy was going to have and the girls would tell me that was all. I would total the order and since its fast food it obviously didn’t usually exceed more than about three bucks. Then the guy would stand up and begin ordering, catching me completely off guard because I figured that he wasn’t going to be eating since he didn’t order with his girlfriend. Nonetheless I would total his meal and he would pull out his wallet to pay and almost every time I would notice how much money he had with him. It just appalled me how he wouldn’t pay for her meal and how she wouldn’t even expect him to!

Chivalry is the choice of doing the right things at the right time. It is both of these and both are reliant upon the other. I know it’s hard to be chivalrous in a world where woman flaunt their bodies and where they have become so independent on themselves, but that is no reason to abandon the pursuit of chivalry.

Chivalry is not dead, it is just abandoned. Guys, it is up to us to bring chivalry back in a world where ‘sexy’ has already been brought back by Mr. Timberlake.

I'll one day have my own pictures of these places...

Huntington Beach

Northern Lights

Madrid

Moscow

Dublin, Ireland

Paris

I hope one day the opportunity to travel the world becomes available to me.

Girls are like apples...

"Girls are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. The boys don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they just get the rotten apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. So the apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree."

This is a portion of a bulletin that I typed up a while back and posted on MySpace and received a few dozen comments on it from different people, and now I have found it all over the Internet. This is the same exact wording that I used and it has made its way all over the web. In fact, if you Google, "girls like apples" there will be a few places that this text appears. It's not that I am looking to receive credit for this but as I expand on this excerpt I didn't want any of y'all to think that I was writing about something somebody else had already wrote about. The parallel between girls and apples goes far beyond the small section above.

Girls hold on to that vine. Hold onto it tight. Don't be too weak so that wind and rain and stormy weather will overcome you and make you fall. Don't let the hardships in life make you lose your dignity. Hold on to that vine. Once you fall you are vulnerable to being picked up by any guy. You may look appealing on the ground, but not for long. You will still find guys who will want you, but it wont be the guy you should want. They will be the guys that are too lazy too climb up into the tree and search for you. You want a guy that will look up into the tree, realize the best is further up and harder to reach, but will give all that it takes and will go home and get the ladder or will climb up the tree, moving other dangling apples away with his hand and then admire you with all your beauty and choose you. Girls hold on to that vine. Don't let go until someone deserves you.
Guys, don't be the shallow guy who is too lazy to climb the tree. Don't visit the apple orchard until you are ready to climb. And when you get to the tree don't take the easy way out by choosing the apples that have fallen onto the ground. Don't be afraid of heights. Don't be too scared to stretch to the top to grab the most precious apple that you see. Just as there will always be that guy who will pick up the dead apple, there will always be that girl who will purposely fall to the ground and look good on the outside, but will not be what you want.
All of you girls who are still hanging on- don't for a second think that something is wrong with you. Y'all are the heroes. Y'all are the prettiest and the best. Just because the guys in our age have become too shallow to make that climb does not mean for a second that you have something wrong with you. On a tree you grow, you ripen and you mature. On the ground you go bad or get stuck with a guy who wont treat you like you deserve. So when you go to school each morning and see Ms. Slut(and you all have seen her) don't for a second wish that that was you. Don't ever envy her pretty face or perfect body, because the guy you deserve wont base his decision on those two reasons, and the guy you deserve will know that you are beautiful, and the guy you deserve will make the climb over her just to get to you. It may not happen as fast as you like, but it will happen. Don't ever forget that and loosen your grip upon that vine. Hold onto that vine. Soon a guy will climb that tree just for you and you will be the apple of his eye.


The original bulletin was a little bit longer and perhaps clearer but this was most of the points. The main point of me writing it years ago was because I had a few friends who over and over have been hurt by undeserving guys. It's not worth it girls. And guys, make the climb, and if you aren't able, then come back when you are able. I'm going to post a article on chivalry soon also so stay posted!

Unappreciative States of America?

I love my country. I really do. Often I just sit back and contemplate life in a different country and how drastically different things would be, but I always come to the conclusion that I am completely blessed to be living in America. I plan on traveling not only this country but also the world to get a better idea of how fortunate I am to be member of the US of A. I once had the oppurtunity to spend a few days with a guy my age from France and as we drove across Wilmington in search of food that we would agree on, he said something that I will never forget nor let myself forget. As we drove, he constantly had his eyes peeled out the windows evaluating this land that he knew to be the World Economic Powerhouse and the Foundation of Liberty, but as we were stopped in rush-hour traffic he made the comment in his limited English vocabulary without turning his head that, "American is lucky. America is strong. It is strong because Americans loves America. It has many flags everywhere. America is lucky."
I really didnt know what to say so if I remember correctly I just sort of nodded in agreement and found myself from that day on looking into the sky and above buildings to note how many flags or other examples of nationalism are visible.
I think its been a solid decline since then.
As I drive now in search for signs of nationalism and devotion to this country all I see is disunity and disharmony. Bumper stickers that have unpatriolistic material and radio stations that make jest and mockery of the leaders of our country now corrodes my car rides, and continues to be a slap in the face to me as a appreciative American.
Are we the United States of America or the Unappreciative States of America?
In my opinion, our economy would be highly more efficient if the campaigns for the next presidential election didnt begin the day after the voters cast their ballot. All we hear as citizens is how government shouldnt be doing this, or how Congress shouldnt allow the funding of that, or how a certain leader shouldnt hold the office that he was elected to, or how economy is going to sink into another Great Depression and how global warming is going to flood the world and arguments about who created the internet. There are confrontations about the war, civil rights, racial profiling, immigration, and water control within New Hanover Co. All these things do need to be addressed and a diversity of opinions should be encouraged and welcomed, but never should disagreements lead to a split in our United States. Diversity does not negate unity, but it integrates unity which is the fuel for our economic and united well-being as a nation. It is great that we are the Melting Pot of the world, where different ideas are welcome and freely expressed, but as a country we should all realize that the diversity of ideas does not imply the unappreciative attitudes that are seen on a daily basis. Support America. When someone is elected that you did not want to be elected, just deal with it and voice your opinion without being disrespectful or unappreciative to the Unity of the States of America. Oh, and one more thing, if you dont have the time to go vote and apply your democratic priviledge, you have no right or reason to complain about how the nation is running. That just really bugs me and I wanted to point it out. People in other countries would love to have that representation in their country and thats essentially why so many people died in the founding of this great nation. So if you dont want to be represented than dont represent yourself unappreciative throughout the elected officials term.
Something to think about...

D.A.R.E Dont Allow Rumor Expansion

It remains calm and untouched during the struggles that it initiated.
It is tossed around the minds of the righteous and is rarely cast out.
It makes inaccurate accusations into permanent records.
It grabs friends by the hand and seduces them into agreement.
It uses force and dissention as its fuel to maneuver its most disgusting tactics.
It’s the blackness of ones mind.
It’s the arrow through the hearts.
It incites only tears and displays only hate.
It slaps in place of hugs.
It stabs instead of loves.
It is salt in the wound and it spreads like ivy.
The more it is touched and talked about the more places its deceit will grow and outbreak.
It will displease its victim,
But its master it will eventually betray as well,
When karma comes around, it will only laugh as it has sprung to a new master and smiles as it sees its old master perish like its former victim.
It is a rumor.
And everyone is the victim, and nobody is its master....

Hey babe, I carved your name on a branch....'cause I love you...?

I was walking downtown this morning along Princess Street, enjoying the crisp autumn breeze and humming along to whatever band was playing through the headphones of my iPod, and I noticed carved into the sides of stone buildings and into the sidewalk that I was treading on, the names of two lovers encompassed by a deformed shaped heart. It didnt physically or emotionally affect me or traumatize me, but it get me thinking, which is dangerous in and of itself. I admit I am guilty of carving the names of loved ones surrounded by a heart into wooden railings or old trees, and if I had the tools I would probably be guilty of carving it also into stone or concrete also. But after thinking about it this morning as I made my way back to class was why is this act of random vandalism thought to be so romantic? I'm not saying that I am innocent of this activity, but I am admiting that I never actually thought about why I was doing it when I did carve the names. I just figured that it was shakespearical-romanticism(and yes thats a newly invented word) and that I should join the cliche of other couples doing the same act. But what does carving your name and your special someones' name into anything actually accomplish? Years down the road are you going to go back to that same spot and be able to share a emotional moment together over how that was the spot that yall professed your love on an inanimate object years ago? Cant we just do that over a nice dinner? Plus how many of the people that have carved their names in something actually return to that spot with that same someone? I can only doubt that the statistics would be that high. It has always been seen as a great idea and a very romantic touch to a romantic date, but is there any real romance in carving names into a piece of wood or rock? I mean seriously folks? Again, this is not a rant to everyone else, I have already admitted that I have been guilty of participating in this act, but it just hit me today that it really isnt that cute.
How about next time you get the urge to break out your pencil and crack the eraser to use it as a carving utencil, you decide to treat your lady to a candlelit dinner, or just tell her you love her.(only if you really do) That is one other thing, when you see these names carved in wood or stone, you always see a heart around it and perhaps the word "forever" included. I'm sure that the number of couples' names that have been carved into any object are most likely not still together. In the modern day lingo they we have grown so accustomed to, "whats up with that?"
So I want to hear from you readers if you really think that carving your name into an inanimate object is really romantic or not. Something to think about....

I'll love you forever...

This picture says a lot. At first glance it seems just to be two homo sapiens engaged in a kiss that seems to fire their love. But there is something deeper in this picture. Notice the two infinity symbols formed around both partners' minds and hearts.
This picture is to be interpreted that love isnt just a flesh and body emotion.

It is forever formed in the mind and forever cherished in the heart.

Examined, Tried, Experienced

The future always seems so far off, so distant. Being of a young age I already have plenty of things that I have done or not done that I will remember in fifty years. I have already carved a part of my reputation into a brick wall and part of it into the sand. One part will wash away and one part will live on for everyone to see.

When my legs refuse to transport me to the places I desire I hope I will have the opportunity to say that they’ve already been everywhere. I hope that I can say the sand of all seven seas have been crushed between my toes. I hope to say that my hair has been caked in desert sand and my hands have made priceless inventions. And my eyes! If ever my mouth reaches the point of the inability to verbally communicate I hope my eyes will have seen riches and beauty to satisfy my quiet self till the end. I want to be able to relive, in my mind, the view from thousands of feet up as I will have skydived and I want to be able to to sit on my porch swing and with all my senses be able to appreciate a lived life.

Smell)

When my nose begins to deceive me I want to be able to remember all the scents that I have enjoyed and be able to provide caution to certain scents of disgust. I want to be able to close my eyes and remember walking thru New York City at night and all the different scents in the air. I want to be able to smell the interior of the first car that I worked hard to afford. I want to be able to smell my wife and the sweet aroma that always surrounded her. I want to be able to smell that scent of comfort-I want it to take me back to the first time I met her, the first time I kissed her and the first time she cried on my shoulder. I want to be able to remember the stench of our first babies diaper and the smell of my first office with my name upon the door. I want to be able to kick my feet up sipping on sweet tea, like the grandfathers of the pictures, and be able to smell the scent of my tuxedo and the glorious smell of my daughters favorite flowers as I escort her down the isle at the appointed time. I want to smell the salty tears as they roll down my face. I want to re-visit the smell that I observed every Thanksgiving with such a blessing of great food and company. I want to smell all the foreign foods that I will have encountered and I want to be able to stick my nose into the Apple Pie without my mother running me off. I want to be able to smell the dirt from the walls of the Eiffel tower and the numerous piazzas in Rome. I want to smell the mangoes in Haiti and the smell of blueberries. I want to remember the smell of winter when the air crispens the leaves and the sky is on the verge of crying white powder. I want to smell the scent of spring rains and the salty ocean in the summer. I want to smell full moons and shooting stars if ever that was possible. I want to remember enough smells to where if my nose were my only sense left I would be fine for the rest of life.

Taste)

When my tongue begins to deceive me I want to remember all the different tastes that I experienced throughout life. I want to be able to taste the flavor of my mother’s chicken stroganoff. I want to be able to taste in my mind the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that my mom packed for me in pre-school. I want to taste the first steak that I spent over $50 for. I want to taste the ice cream that my siblings and I would run down the street for to get from the Ice Cream man. I want to be able to sense the flavor of all the exotic and strange concoctions that I have invented. I want to taste the gelatin in Rome and the es cargo from Paris. I want to be able to taste the fish that I will have caught in the Caribbean. I want to be able to taste salt-water taffy and the taste of the sweat that had resides on my lips after a full days work in the yard. I want to taste my rehearsal dinners’ meal-every dish. I want to remember enough flavors to where if taste was my only sense left I would be fine for the rest of life.

Touch)

When my hands grow too feeble and my fingertips no longer recognize the object I hold, I want to be able to remember all the different things that those hands have touched. I want to be able to feel my dad’s hand in mine as we walked to the local high school football game. I want to be able to feel the football in my hands as I led my team to the winning touchdown in little league. I want to remember how the baseball felt when I pitched my last pitch. I want to be able to feel the vibration of the various lawn mowers that I controlled as I worked in the sun. I want to feel my first child in my hands and I want to remember how my wife’s fingers matched mine so perfectly. I want to be able to remember how lifting various things felt and I want to feel the soreness of a hard days work. I want to be able to remember how I touched the streets that various famous men had once before tread upon. I want to be able to remember the feeling of my guitar nestled comfortably under my right arm. I want to feel the strings vibrate as I pluck them. I want to be able to feel and grasp onto things that I no longer will be able to. I want to be able to feel the first dolphin that I petted in an aquarium. I want to feel the single bar in front of me aboard the insane roller coasters and remember how I lived life to the end. I want to be able to feel the pages of the Bible between my fingertips and feel the hands of all the godly mans hands that I will have shook. I want to feel enough things to where if touch were the only sense I have left I would be fine for the rest of life.

Sight)

When my eyes become too weak to open and too fragile to focus I want to be able to remember all the different sights that those eyes have seen. I want to be able to close my eyes as I sit on my front porch and vividly revisit the first time that I saw the beautiful girl that I would call my wife. I want to be able to remember the first shooting star I saw, and the first solar eclipse. I want to be able to remember watching dramatic films and Broadway performances. I want to remember Times Square at night, Wrightsville Beach in the summer and every house I lived in. I want to be able to see my first child’s face and the tears of my wife looking down on her. I want to be able to see all Seven Wonders of the World, I want to be able to remember sights from each state as I traveled the country. I want to be able to see my parent’s faces as they watched me graduate from school and be a success in life. I want to be able to see a white Christmas and I want to remember the way my bride looked on our wedding day. I want to remember the biggest skylines and the smallest valleys. I want to be able to remember the intense tornados I witnessed and the faces of family members who have lost loved ones in war. I want to remember the sight of my mom tucking me in every night when I was little. I want to remember the tree houses my siblings and I built and I want to remember seeing unthinkable things. I want to see enough things to where if sight was the only sense I had left I would be fine for the rest of my life.

Sound)

When my ears cloud out every sound around me I want to be able to remember all the sounds those ears have heard. I want to hear my mother scream on roller coasters, I want to hear the sound of the crowds and the sound of my mothers heartbeat as I use to cuddle up to her. I want to hear the sound of wind as I soar hundreds of feet above the ground. I want to hear the sound of the waves of the ocean and the sound of a fishing line entering the still water as I take my son fishing for the first time. I want to remember hearing my child cry and I want to remember telling my wife “I do” and hearing the same words back. I want to hear vibrating deeply in my ears all the advice my father gave to me. I want it to ring the loudest. I want to remember the sound of laughter in my house and I want to remember the loud dinners our family always shared. I want to vividly hear jokes and I want to hear people tell me I made a difference in their life. I want to remember all the people who said I wasn’t the same and I want to remember hearing all the wisdom and truth that was taught to me by elders, pastors and teachers. I want to remember the sound of my first car starting and the sound of my guitar. I want to remember the sounds of life so all I would have to do is close my eyes and my life could be played over in audio. I want to hear enough sounds to where if sound was the only sense I had left I would be fine for life.

I want to be able to look back on my life in years to come and recognize all the things I failed to do but smile when I remember all the great things that I accomplished. I want to remember the people involved, their faces, their faith, and their memories. I want to remember my life and be able to admit to my mistakes but know that I made up for them and made things right. I want to remember my life like this.

Does someone want to explain?

Coney Island, NY Hot-dog Eating Contest. Their shirts say, "Eat all that you can eat."

Kids living in a Third World country struggling to find food.


Seriously? We can hold national eating contests for contestants to stuff their faces until they cant eat anymore while other human beings in other countries are dying of starvation at a rapid rate? We can fund big rallies and even televise eating contests, but we can't send that money to help countries struggling with intense poverty?
Yesterday, in Tennessee, a US man set a new record of eating 103 Krystal Hamburgers at the Krystal Hamburger Square Off IV World Hamburger Eating Championship.

Hey now theres something to be proud of. Wouldn't it be nice to have that medal hanging over your head at night while the bells of victory drown out the cries of starvation in the Third World?
Congratulations Joey....

Streetlights Hide Stars

I would take pictures of stars, but they seem to have disappeared. Our future children may never see the richness and beauty of our stars and intergalactic activity. A full moon will only be a day marked on the calender and a shooting star will exist only in fairy tales. Sadly in todays world, people have devoted business and extracurricular activities over the simple admiration of one of God's most complex and beautiful creations. American growth and environmental admiration should not be mutually exclusive, but in this fiscal techno-advancement culture nobody is concerned with creations beauty.

When we moved into the subdivision that I live in, there was only one streetlight down the neighborhood and out by the road of my house there was no light. Often I remember going outside and laying in my neighbors driveway looking up at the sky and being just in awe of how great the sky is and how wonderful are His creations in the heavens. It all seemed so real. A few months ago a streetlight was constructed right across from my house. Now all I see is that fluorescent cloud of bright glow that invades the dark sky. I thought about it and noted that this is exactly what is happening in todays society. More streetlights are going up and less is being thought about how marvelous creation is. Within the heart of any big city try to tilt your head and look up at the night sky. All you will see is the glow of the cities financial revenue. You wont see a shooting star. You wont catch the fullness of the moon. The metropolitan desire has eroded the natural beauty. The stars are the streetlights of eternity.

If you haven't escaped from the hectic world in awhile and admired the night sky, I encourage you all to try it soon. It will be worth it.

Seriously? Do you really think this man would be standing there if his sign was true?
I wish people would just think.

The Line between Compassion and Truth

There is a fine line between two critical aspects of a commendable life-compassion and truth.

Where do you draw the line between truth and compassion? I asked a few of my friends what their opinion on this was and Arie Van Eyk said that you draw the line at truth. Whenever truth is watered down by the emotion of compassion the line has been crossed. Compassion is an emotion that is held in high regard even among unbelievers and it should be yearned for until it compromises truth. Once it crosses the line, morality and the foundation of life becomes vulnerable to universalism.
Graham Langdon added that the two can never cross, because compassion doesnt require sacrificing your beliefs. He says, "to draw the line insinuates that compassion should be limited by truth and truth be limited by compassion. We should be infinintly compassionate and unshakeable in truth."
So what exactly was President Bush doing in his speech at the Iftaar dinner? You can find an article about it here.
President Bush seemed to be pushing the lines of universalism with his compassionate speech toward the gathered Muslims.

Was he compromising truth by compassion? Or if he watered down the truth, was he showing true compassion?

Something to think about...

The Social Model

The Social Model

The best and purest form of government is a government that understands, and appropriately relates and reacts to the multi-faceted nature of society and the people that it incorporates. It must allow but at the same time control diversity; it must yearn for, but not overrate unity; it must protect but not confine its citizens; it must tax but not steal from its people; it must be quick to act but quicker to think. It must birth nationalists who wear the pride of their nation on their coat; it must look to a higher Authority to enact just laws. It must punish and it must reward; it must be the settlement of love and the battleground of quarrel. It must be the threshold of reason but the backhand of stupidity. It must grant and allow for the enjoyment of individuals rights, but it must not back down when the nations security is at stake. It must have a written document that the citizens and decision-makers can look to for clarity during uncertain times. It must have strength, it must have trade, it must have growth and it must have justice. It must prevail through internal affairs and it must prevail in outward of violence. It must ensue peace but not be so naïve as to think that peace will triumph without occasional coercion. The model government will applaud with the glad and weep with the sorrowful. The model government will introduce, allow, and wisely fund the research and development of new technology to increase federal efficiency and stabilize the economy. It will discourage laziness with the natural consequences that result from it, and it will provide shelter for religious diversity until that diversity clashes with the nations unity. It will pave the streets of success and it will be the marketplace of ideas- where the citizens feel safe in voicing their own opinion. It will have an internal policing unit that provides proactive control to violence and illegal activity. The model form of government will only end when justice has been corroded and an immoral decline of responsibility occurs. The model form of government is not a Utopia, because a Utopia by definition does not exist. The fact that such a model form of government has not yet been in existence does not imply that it cannot exist. How can something so pure and unimaginable exist? A pure form of government must truly assure the citizens of justice, liberties, protection, economic stability, environmental compatibility and national unity.

Forsake

Stephen Spillers introduced a new theory that he shared with me tonight. The new f-word is going to be "forsake."

Merriam Websters Online Dictionary defines forsake as - to renounce or turn away from entirely

This is a perfect substitution for an innapropriate word used so frequently today in America. So lets join the Spillers bandwagon and consider using a more "politcally correct" word. (since that is what Americans want so badly)

-Just a quick thought-

I took these photographs a while back, but just recently discovered them in some unused folder on my computer. Creation is so beautiful and we so commonly take it for granted....

Wilmington, NC

A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books. ~Walt Whitman

Downtown Wilmington, NC

Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. ~Confucius

Wrightsville Beach, NC

The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone. ~Johann von Goethe

Downtown Wilmington, NC

Had the price of looking been blindness, I would have looked. ~Ralph Ellison

Downtown Wilmington, NC

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I hope I'm not the only one that is completely disgusted by pictures of these protests. For the uneducated, Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka led by founder/pastor Fred Phelps has been involved in picketing funerals of fallen soldiers. The mindset behind this grotesque activity is the congregation believes that the death of the American troops and other national disasters, such as Hurricane Katrina, are consequences from God of our national level of tolerance of homosexuality. Phelps' congregation consists mostly of his family. He has 13 children, 54 grand-children and 7 great-grandchildren. He has been quoted to say that, "You can't preach the Bible without preaching the hatred of God." Fred, who are you fooling?
The group interrupts funerals of men and women who have heroically fought for America overseas. These people are heroes and these Westboro Baptists are gravely disrespecting the American Dream. Regardless of the fact that the Phelps' family has vowed to continue these protests, I truly believe that this attempt at depriving the nation of unity will be an utter failure and soon diminish. There is already a group called the "Patriot Guard Riders" which is a group of bikers who show up to drown out the protesters among the funeral line.
It just makes me sick to my stomach when I see such poor demonstrations of the American Dream, American Pride, and American Love.
May America Bless God.

A dose of love...

I'll call this my haven. It can reiterate all my thoughts into an intellectual and comprehensible manner. Cheers.