simple magazine is holding an essay contest. in 1500 words or less, they'd like to know when i first realized i had grown up. must be 19 to enter. apparently, at 18, you are still a kid despite the lotto tickets and porn collecting in your closet. the pretty prize for chosen submission: $3000, trip to NYC, lunch with editors, and of course publication. i NEED to win this, i am totally capable of writing an essay bouncing with poignancy. my 1500 words or less could definitely make an editor laugh, cry, and wonder why she/ he hadn't already discovered me. at prize-lunch, they would pick my brain, asking how i attained such wisdom at an early age. naturally, they would beg for more and i would oblige, directing them to this blog. which by that time should be chuck full of entries. after reading and re-reading, liking and loving.... i would get my own column. and my inspiring story would be made into a lifetime movie. it would premier after project runway.
ahhhhhh fantasies are fun.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
...but it's all coming back to me
oh god, i forgot how good celine deon sings! listening to 90s ballads really gets you going in the morning. anyhow, i want to talk about living supernaturally. you see, what makes a christian a christian is not the cheesy bumper sticker or patriotic tee shirt or gay bashing or purity ring... what makes a christian a christian is death. the death of Christ, namely, then followed by death to self.
but what does that even mean, "death to self." well, as far as i can tell, it's inner suicide. it's taking every single ounce of me and killing it. my pride, my dreams, my preferences, my attitudes, my natural dispositions, etc etc. this includes what we like to call "reflex." this is death to self. and it does not come naturally, hence it is supernatural.
regarding being born again (the cornerstone of christianity) oswald chambers writes, "only when he is willing to die to everything in his life, including his rights, his virtues, and his religion, and becomes willing to receive into himself a new life that he has never experienced. this new life exhibits itself in our conscious repentance and through our unconscious holiness." when i first read this, i was snapped in a fetal position. depressed, down and out, hating my life. wondering--- like i do many a day--- what the hell God was thinking.
what could be so wrong to cause such desperation? the minute i tell you, it will become clear what god i serve most of the time.... money. not having a job for 5 months kind of dries up funds, kind of lets debt get you by the balls. and even though you live in la mesa with a view to kill, even though you get to eat your favorite foods everyday, even though you have parents to provide and friends to love, even though your life is more perfect than it's ever been, just because you are unemployed and penniless, you hate it and listen to a lot of dashboard confessional.
what was God thinking (and apparently thinking for the past 5 months)? that Alise Marie Alicardi is still alive and well. and she better start dying real soon. and those idols better not just be shifted, they better be knocked the hell off that high place. or else, it's going to get worse.because God will do what He must to have His people live up to the name they adopt: Christian, little Christ.
"for His sake i have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that i may gain Christ and be found in Him-- that i may know Him and the power of His resurrection and may share His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death." Phil 3:8-10
but what does that even mean, "death to self." well, as far as i can tell, it's inner suicide. it's taking every single ounce of me and killing it. my pride, my dreams, my preferences, my attitudes, my natural dispositions, etc etc. this includes what we like to call "reflex." this is death to self. and it does not come naturally, hence it is supernatural.
regarding being born again (the cornerstone of christianity) oswald chambers writes, "only when he is willing to die to everything in his life, including his rights, his virtues, and his religion, and becomes willing to receive into himself a new life that he has never experienced. this new life exhibits itself in our conscious repentance and through our unconscious holiness." when i first read this, i was snapped in a fetal position. depressed, down and out, hating my life. wondering--- like i do many a day--- what the hell God was thinking.
what could be so wrong to cause such desperation? the minute i tell you, it will become clear what god i serve most of the time.... money. not having a job for 5 months kind of dries up funds, kind of lets debt get you by the balls. and even though you live in la mesa with a view to kill, even though you get to eat your favorite foods everyday, even though you have parents to provide and friends to love, even though your life is more perfect than it's ever been, just because you are unemployed and penniless, you hate it and listen to a lot of dashboard confessional.
what was God thinking (and apparently thinking for the past 5 months)? that Alise Marie Alicardi is still alive and well. and she better start dying real soon. and those idols better not just be shifted, they better be knocked the hell off that high place. or else, it's going to get worse.because God will do what He must to have His people live up to the name they adopt: Christian, little Christ.
"for His sake i have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that i may gain Christ and be found in Him-- that i may know Him and the power of His resurrection and may share His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death." Phil 3:8-10
Monday, August 17, 2009
This will be the death of me
I wonder how many women are going to start writing blogs because they saw "Julie & Julia" and thought it looked easy. Rewarding, even. Sure, I got the idea to write this after seeing it, but I'm not expecting a book deal. Or a movie. Like Julie Powell, I just want to be a real writer. What determines that? A publisher? An agent? Nah... a reader determines that. So, might as well put something out there to read.
Last night, my childhood best friend had her first baby. A girl-- Zoey-- weighing in at 9lbs 14 oz, with lips the colour of wine. Holding her was holding purity, like I should wash my filth from her curled up fingers. Sitting there, with this warm thing in my arms, watching my friend become a mother, I felt out of place. No one prepped me for the change in script...this time of friends getting married, having babies, becoming adults... while I sit on sidelines and wait for a text from the dude I fancy. I feel stunted. I need someone else to write the lines, cause I ain't got a thing to say. My lips need a cigarette to distract from the things they aren't saying.
Dear God, I am so sick of saying "I don't know what to do with my life." Even more tired of hearing, "That's normal for 23 year olds." I don't want to be normal! Nor, do I want to hope it will all be better the minute 24 comes knocking. Moms, dads, doctors, and strippers all promise I am meant for greatness... but how does normal become great? It's a process, yeah? Well, maybe this blog is a part of it. Maybe it won't be the third most read on Salon.com, but someone will laugh at my self-deprecation. In turn, I will help said person burn calories (a good fit of laughter burns 40).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)