Sometimes I don't write here.I write in::
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Little Drummer Boy

It seems like this is the lesson I'm learning this season. I don't have anything really special to give anyone, even my Jesus this Christmas. And it's his birth I'm celebrating.
All I have is my voice, and my talents as a songwriter and composer.
I'd give anything to give them to Him.
But I don't have the means.
I find solace in the fact that every time I raise my voice it is to him.
It's all to Him.
I'm glad he can hear it in my head.
Merry Christmas.

Cast off.

I'm embarking on the first fast of my entire life. When I was little I didn't think I could handle it. But... I think I can do this. I feel strongly enough, you know?
My first fast. Wow.
There's got to be some preparation for it? I mean, I should have been storing up fats so that my body would have something to feed off of for the next week.
Christmas, I hope we eat after sundown, if not, I won't eat anything else that day except the meal.
I'm scared. But I'm excited too.
I'm fasting for my friend Tim.
Day one starts in twelve minutes.
I should be quaking in my shoes for my life.
I barely get enough to eat as it is.
But... God's got it in his hands.

For you, Tim. For you.
Fasting. Praying all that time I would be thinking about food or I would be preparing.
I am so excited to see what God gives me this week.
:) In a way I think it's good I've gone through this too.
Actually. I know it is.
Wish me luck, and should you choose to, join me for a day.
Pray for him, and for me.

Love always
Nikole

"You should never work at a suicide hotline."

Well I hate to be so vengeful, but I proved you wrong. Twice. Twice. Someone has called me with a blade in their hands, and I've made them stop. I've made them rethink living. I'm starting to believe I threw you life preservers and I gave you organ transplants but you just let them rot or float out to sea.

But on a note that is in tune...

It feels so good to be using the past tense. It feels so good to be able to talk to you and give you hope about tomorrow. Just. Tomorrow. You can make it. Helping you heals me. You can do it. I have every confidence in you, my friend. I value your existence. I love your eyes, your freckles, your gait. I love you. Just, as a holistic little blip in the universe, it's a treasure. And I'm so glad I can say this without Chris getting mad, he knows what I really mean. I love that boy more than anything, and you are a terrific friend. I'm so glad he lets me be the me I'm meant to be.
You give me hope that tomorrow I won't slip on this precarious slope on to safety and into the recovery room and out the door of the hospital. Did you ever believe that? Your pain gives me hope. There is purpose. Purpose for the Pain by Renee Yohe. I won't buy it for you, because that might be weird but I promise to let you borrow it and if you like it, you can keep it. I'd give the shirt off my back for you. I'm glad to have friends like you around. So. Glad. That I am alive for this.

It seems like something I shouldn't look forward to, saving a life everyday. It seems like it would get tiring. And truth be told, it is, when they don't try to get better. If you have an addict that pulls out the cocaine in front of you, it's hard to feel as if you are making a difference. It's hard to feel as if the guts you are drowning yourself in will ever become the air you breathe.
But you make it worth it. You are meaningful. You are worth it.

I will always be here for you. I will never forget you.
You are part of me.
My little drummer boy.



Sorry that it doesn't quite fit.

But, oh my God, why?

This hurts so badly. It's crushing my bones. It's sitting on my veins. It's making sure that I stop beating, that I stop keeping tempo.

No matter how much I've changed, no matter how many times I reinvent myself, I never seem to get the hang of it.
I can change from an amoeba to a person, but I can't for the life of me change one thing.
I can have as much inspiration as I want.
I can know in my gut that this is what I'm going to do with my life.
But...
I have no outlet.
And I do not have the right motivation.
Maybe that's why I'm not allowed to have the outlet now.
But my God... Does it burn. These tears pour themselves onto the swollen, itching skin around my eyes, and that only makes it worse. It's like involuntary self mutilation. I feel so hollow.

I have a purpose. I have everything lying. Right. Outside. The. Window. I can see it, I can feel it's temperature through the glass, I am an inch away and I can't do a darn thing about it. I can't write. I can't compose. I am nothing. Nothing is about what it's supposed to be about. I can't right things full of hope and joy and love like I promised I would. I know, deep down that's why I don't have the stuff I need. I know it. But... I can't help but beat myself up for not having the joy I so lavishly spread upon my fellow man in life. Why can't I commit it to paper? Why I can't I reach through augmented fourths the feelings I am holding onto?

Being worthless is almost better.
I am almost a person.
I'm halfway there.
Knowing what I'm meant to be and having no way of doing it.


I feel like a caterpillar stuck in it's cocoon.
I know I'm going to fly.
I can see the sunlight and I can see the moon.
Through the thread that is now my sky....
I can see it. I can hear it.
Why can't I touch it?
I can taste how sweet tomorrow is,
And somehow I can tell that it's in better hands.
But I can't hand it a glowing kiss.
Even though I'm doing all I can.
I can't.
Take.
This.
I wish I had no hope.
I wish I had no purpose.
But he makes it so hard to forget the goodness in the world.
Someday I'll fly out and it will be the day.
But until then....
I'll stare at this thread that is my temporary sky.
And I'll search for the answer betwixt the cracks.
I'm going to be something no matter how it feels right now.
Because this life really isn't mine to live.
And all I really want is to be his.

Give it to me straight.

I am so sick of people thinking that because I am a Christian and because I am Republican, I am heartless. Not everyone thinks this, obviously; there are exceptions to every rule.

Since when am I supposed to be held to a higher set of rules than you? If you're atheist and thus more educated than I am, or less brainwashed, or whatever you want to think, why do you make it seem like I have to behave better than you do, or that I have to hate certain things?

Let's get one thing perfectly clear, right now.

I am a Christian. I love my God. This does not mean that I:

- Hate gays.
- Hate minorities.
- Care more about Christians than anyone else.
- Am not a humanitarian.
- Am grossly conservative.
- Do not believe in evolution.
- Hate all science teachers.
- Believe that women are less valuable than men.
- or I believe in any other radical, extreme, or otherwise bogus idea about Christians.
Just so we can get on the same page, and so that you people can stop assuming about me. It's true that in argument we make leaps and play the stereotype card, that we think that all Republicans are unfeeling and all liberals have their hearts on their sleeves. Did you ever stop to think why someone believes what they believe? Or what parts of their general belief system they disagree with?
Here's a bit of an overview on just me. I'm not speaking for anyone else. This is Nikole, talking about what she believes. No one else.

I love all people. Black, white, gay, straight, transexual, I don't really care. I just love people as a whole. You're a prep, you're a jock, you're a goth, you amaze me. I want all people to have the same love, the same opportunities that I do. I believe in the Constitution and I believe in democracy. However, I'm conservative. How does this work with being humanitarian? Well, I'll tell you. I don't want money coming out of my pocket to pay for whatever hot-button issue people are pushing these days. I want my money to go help causes, go help people that I believe in. I don't want to be paying for healthcare reform, but if someone asks me to help out with their bill for their back surgery, you can bet your sweet bippy that I will.

I'm not a radical. I believe in things that agree with the Bible, I don't believe strictly the Bible. If it came with a necessary and proper cause, yeah, that would be me. Heck, there may be teachings in the Koran that I agree with. But, I'm not a Muslim. I am a Christian.

The miracle of creation is no less amazing if it happened over millions of years or in seven days. I really don't care who is right about all of that. Honestly, I don't. I am much more concerned about my world now than I am about my world at it's beginning. Besides, in the Bible it says that God is outside of time. The two theories can in fact coexist.

I treat people like people. I've done things, been ways that are contradictory to my faith. Did you know I've kissed more girls than boys? Did you know that I believed myself bisexual for a good portion of my life? That I used to be an alcoholic? That I used to do drugs? No, you didn't? Well, then don't say I don't know what it's like. Don't say I don't understand, I have been everywhere you walk. Therefore, how can I hate you if I was you? That makes no sense.

I have been blessed with a life on both sides of the fence. I understand you. I don't hate you.
So before you ask why I am pro-gay marriage, and yet a Christian... My morals say "No." My Constitution says "Yes." "All men are created equal." Get around that, kids. How can all men be equal but some can get married and some can't?

So before you see me in the hallways, look at a cross hanging from my neck, or hear me talking about my faith with another student, please think. Don't make sweeping generalizations about me. I don't try do it to you. Of course I make mistakes. Ask me "Why?" You'll be surprised at the answer. That's the real road to tolerance, not wearing t-shirts and buying stuff. Just asking "Why?" is so much more effective.

I love you all. Does that mean I don't hate the things you do? No. I do not agree with it. I can disagree passionately. I can hate the act. Look past the act, the clothes, the make-up, the music, and love the person. That goes for all of you. Don't expect just me to follow that because I'm a Christian. I should not be held to higher standards than the rest of you. Just because I believe in my Messiah does not mean I am not human.

Thank you.

Geisha

The Japanese had it right. Geisha. Not an elite prostitute. A living work of art. They were meant to entertain, and to be judged. But, there's this whole other dimension to art. Art is meant to provoke emotion, to make conversation, to spark something. It's the ultimate catalyst, and it is meant to create opinions, to be judged and to make people feel alive and determine something's fate.

I aim to become a geisha in the oddest form possible. I want to be a living art piece. I want every movement of mine, every sparkle from my eye, everything I do to evoke something. To make someone feel, to make someone think. Every breath you take should be a work of art. It not only should be beautiful or ugly, but it should shake people. No one should be able to walk past you on the street without thinking for a minute. If that means behaving opposite the norm, if that means speaking out for what you believe in, saying "Hello" to strangers you meet, so be it. An artistic and creative existence, one with meaning and purpose is the only one worth living.
If people can understand you without even batting an eyelash, without stretching the tiniest bit, they do not need you.

Maybe not an entire existence like this is for you, but it is for me. I want to evoke change. I have the power to change the world, but I have no avenue in which to channel it. It's the worst feeling on Earth. I ask you, that even if you don't want a life of art, if you don't want that exhausting burden, at least make it one moment a day in which you step out of reality, into the realm of the creative, and do something to provoke someone.

Of course, this provocation should be for good. What is art that doesn't make change? How much better is it if that change is positive? Infinitely.