I took the Blue Pill.

There is a vast difference between numbness and peace. And in my own Matrix, I took the blue pill instead of the red. And now, happiness is bliss. No...not youthful bliss but fearful. The ignorance that I created for myself when I decided that life was too much to handle.

So I took the blue pill.


I stuffed my hopes and dreams in a box marked "memories". I shredded my desires. I threw love in the garbage. All of it! But, I kept my families love as a souvenir.

When I took the blue pill.


I decided to forget the realities that plagued my mind. That infiltrated my heart. That haunted me in the day and visited me in the night. "Don't lose hope Khristi. We need you." No more sleepless nights. No more dreams so real that I question the existence of my own reality when I wake.

And I took the blue pill.

Denying any-thing that led to the door of potential. Denying the nature of my own existence.

Then I took the blue pill.

And I swallowed.
And I wallowed...in self pity.
And instead of dying the death of the valiant I resolved to a cryogenically frozen state. Frozen in space. Frozen in time. And now, I lie numb in ironical faith that one day a cure will be discovered for the curse that the blue pill has brought me.

The Tragedy of The Othello Complex

"For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane, If I would time expend with such a snipe, But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor; And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets. He hath done my office: I know not if't be true; But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, Will do as if for surety. He hold me well; The better shall my purpose work on him. Casio's a proper man: let me see now: To get his place and to plume up my will In double knavery-How, how?-Let's see:-After some time, to abuse Othello's ear That he is too familiar with his wife. He hath a person and a smooth dispose To be suspected, framed to make woman false. The Moor is of a free and open nature that thinks men honest that but seem to be so, and will as tenderly be led by the nose as asses are. I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light."

Othello. A story beginning and ending in betrayal. A story of jealousy, passion and misplaced trust. The story begins with the warped plan of Iago, who is a confidant and companion of Othello, a moor, who is a ruler in Cyprus. Iago's hatred of Othello drives him to devise a master plan of betrayal with aim to destroy Othello and everyone in relation to him.

A Cliff Note Synopsis:
In Cyprus, Iago plots against Othello, planting the seed of doubt about Desdemona’s fidelity and implicating Cassio as her lover. Using Roderigo, Iago arranges a fight that ultimately results in Cassio’s demotion. Believing that his chances of reinstatement are better if he has Desdemona plead his case to her husband, Cassio, with Iago’s help, arranges for a private meeting with Desdemona, who promises to speak on his behalf to Othello until his reconciliation with Othello is achieved. As Cassio leaves, Iago and Othello appear. Othello notices Cassio’s speedy departure, and Iago quickly seizes the opportunity to point out that Cassio seems to be trying to avoid the Moor. Desdemona immediately and enthusiastically begins to beg Othello to pardon Cassio, as she promised, and will not stop her pleading until Othello, preoccupied with other thoughts, agrees. The moment Desdemona and Emilia leave, however, Iago begins to plant seeds of doubt and suspicion in Othello’s mind. Othello, beset by uncertainty and anxiety, later demands of Iago some proof that Desdemona is unfaithful. Using a handkerchief that Desdemona later innocently drops, Iago convinces Othello that she has been unfaithful, and he stages a conversation with the innocent Cassio that further hardens the Moor’s heart against his wife and her supposed lover. Convinced of his wife’s betrayal and enraged and grieving, Othello rushes into action, making an agreement with Iago that he, Othello, will kill Desdemona, and Iago will dispose of Cassio. Desdemona, true to her word to Cassio, continues to plead on his behalf, unknowingly confirming to Othello her unfaithfulness. He accuses her of falseness, and Desdemona, not knowing what she has done to offend, can only assure him that she loves him. Meanwhile, the gullible Roderigo has abandoned all hope of Desdemona, but Iago urges him to kill Cassio and rekindle his hopes. Late that night, they attack Cassio in the street, but it is Cassio who wounds Roderigo. Iago rushes out and stabs Cassio in the leg. Othello, hearing Cassio’s cries for help, believes that half of the revenge is completed and hastens to fulfil his undertaking. Desdemona is in bed when Othello enters. He tells her to pray a last prayer as he has no wish to kill her soul. Realizing that he plans to murder her, Desdemona protests her innocence of any wrongdoing. Knowing that he doesn’t believe her, she begs him to let her live just a little longer, but he smothers her with a pillow. Emilia, Desdemona’s servant and Iago’s wife, upon discovering the ruse, raises the alarm and declares Iago a liar before Montano and Gratiano. She explains how Desdemona’s handkerchief came into Cassio’s possession, and when she refuses to be quiet, Iago stabs her. Cassio, wounded, confirms Emilia’s story. A soldier to the last, Othello stands on his honor. Knowing that this is the end, he asks to be remembered as “one that loved not wisely but too well.” Then he stabs himself and falls on the bed beside his wife, where he dies.
http://www.cliffsnotes.com/WileyCDA/LitNote/id-138.html

On the stage called life, the chief cast and persons in the key of Othello are simple:
Othello would be played by the average Joe Shmoe. Iago would be played by Lucifer. And last but not least, Desdemona. Quaint and innocent. All gendered rules would point elsewhere, but all signs lead to God. Sweet, innocent, Desdemona. Iago's motivation falls under the theme of jealousy and envy. Jealous at the rank and position of a measly moor, plagued by black skin, yet honored in a position Iago could have only dreamed to be in. "What is man that thou art mindful of him?" Iago's mission was enraged by this therefore his mission was ruthless. He schemed with dexterity, using love against Othello. Pretending to befriend him and to look out for his best interests. Using indirect means of deception through a supporting cast to gullibly influence Othello's suspicions. Making sure to leave no evidence behind. Constantly whispering thoughts into his ear. "For now I shall have reason to show the love and duty I bear you with franker spirit: therefore as I am bound, receive it from me." Who better than to exploit the passionate and prevailing love that comes from the covenant of marriage. A Covenant: One not meant to be broken, so when it is….ah, but when it is, the emotional pain it bears far exceeds any thing tangible that would dare call itself pain. Pain that would cause dear Othello to retort in hallucination and seizure. The pain of betrayal. Lies. Lies. Once absorbed Othello, You, Me, becomes relentless in avenging his betrayers, even the one with whom he is wed. After consumption Othello, You, Me, beings to take pleasure in the violence that awaits his betrayers. Bearing the same sadistic traits of the one falsely accused. Othello, You, Me, look at Desdemona through eyes of distrust. Hoodwinked!! Through the eyes of a stranger. Bamboozled!! As the one who played the harlot. Run a Muck!!!

"The Moor already changes with my poison: Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons, Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But with a little act upon the blood, Burn like the mines of sulphur."

There is great tragedy in those who suffer The Othello Complex. The tragedy is in the near hopelessness of revival. Iago, our great foe, a master fraud, realizes the cyclic pitfall of the great God betrayal. In Othello's mind, it's pain exceeds hell's outcome of fire and brimstone.
What's worse is to watch one who is plagued by the complex. Watching them waste away on the grounds of deceit. Not even for a noble cause can one face hell for their life's plot of vengeance on God for not being who He said He was. I, myself, can only relate to the maidservant, who begged and pleaded with Othello for she was the only one who knew the truth. And too, like the maid, no one listens to me as I cry and decree the lies. Lies! They're all lies! I know Desdemona. I have labored and served Desdemona hand and foot. Yet, still. Othello looks at me and laughs. My experience is foolish to his learning…to his understanding. The Othello Complex is distressing and death is undoubtedly knocking on his door. Don't let him answer. I beg you, DON'T LET HIM ANSWER!!!

Think Into His Presence?

An interesting thinng happened to me last night. I tried to think my way into His presence. I tried to think my way into the presence of God. The Nerve. And I was stopped...I was arrested by the Holy Spirit:
ENTER HIS GATES WITH THANKSGIVING AND INTO HIS COURTS WITH PRAISE!!!
That's the danger of schooling and "brain power". Acknowledging the fact that there is no such thing with God. For where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? The foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom.
Prayer REQUIRES submission of the mind, body and soul. There are 2 parties involved and the goal is one-the goal is intimacy. Oh, Father, when was the last time we were intimate? How can I possibly expect You to send me some one body who I call "husband" and I have neglected You- My husband. I am Your wife. For the first time, I am trully convicted. I have been a creeping harlot, spending more itme infatuated with theology and rejecting intimacy. For where is the substance of theology without intimacy? A false balance is an abomination to God. I hear You Father. I hear You Husband.

In the Waiting - Vickie Yohe

Pain...the gift nobody longs for, still it comes
Somehow leaves us stronger when it's gone away.
Pray.I try to pray for Your will to be done.
But I confess it's never fast enough for me.
It seems. The hardest part is waiting on You.
When all I really want, is just to see Your hand move.
I want a peace beyond my understanding.
I want to feel it fall like rain, in the middle of my hurting.
I want to feel Your arms as they surround me.
And let me know that it's okay,to be here in this place.
Resting in the peace that only comes, In The Waiting.
Time. Time to let it go and just believe.
Trusting in what no one else but You can see.
Free. Freedom from the fears that close me in.
When I can't get beyond where I have been, then, Again.
The silence doesn't mean that i'm alone.
As long as I can hear, that I am still Your own.
I want a peace beyond my understanding.
I want to feel it fall like rain, in the middle of my hurting.
I want to feel Your arms as they surround me.
And let me know that it's okay,to be here in this place.
Resting in the peace that only comes, In The Waiting.


Vickie Yohe's Album, "I Just Want You". 

My Weakness for Symbols in "T" Formation

To, The artist formerly known as Mr. Nelson,
What kind of poison do you have in your guitar? Maybe we can hang out one day. We'll exchange religious tracks over a cup of tea and a cucumber sandwich.


My first true love. I hated and loved you for so many years. Now all I have is this "T" to remember you by.


Last but not least, the crucifix. Who would'a thunk that you'd be favored over an empty tomb? Not I. No, Not I.

A Dose of Cognitive Psychology (A Gender Exclusive Expose)

The conscience breaks all laws of metaphysics...to me at least. There’s nothing reasonable or tangible about man’s conscience. Even science continues to debate the idea of a mind behind a mind. Man’s conscience that alarms him when he has the slightest inkling of a glitch of system, proves that there is, in fact, a universal law of morality. So then, it is not the Republicans and the white male Christian evangelicals that are thrusting their opinion of the chains of religion and tradition on everyone.?!’;:%$#*

I believe, the first account of the working ability of man’s conscience is located in the book of Genesis. Adam, who was forewarned and instructed beforehand, was not so hasty to eat of the forbidden fruit. I believe that he was hesitant, but in the end, his reason and fleshy desire overcame the inward voice. So Adam then proves that a man is not necessarily motivated or moved by his conscious. Most people completely ignore their conscience or even jack it to the side as a state of self-pity, or even a counter-Casper haunting them.

I do not consider that man does not have a conscience. Evidence on the contrary would be the mass murderer, our aryan brothers and the like. What can we make of these? Possibly the constant suppression of their created conscience and the yielding to the evil. To say that they never had a conscience is to say that they were never a young child who knew that stealing the cookie out of the cookie jar was wrong, but they did it anyway.

The existence of a subjective experience has little – nothing to do with the conscience. If anything, it just proves its universality. I am different than you, you are different than he, he is different than she, they are different than we, but all of our conscience minds think that maybe that wasn’t the best decision we all made.

And then there are the Christians, who don’t know whether to call it the Holy Spirit or the Devil. The Christian is rather fortunate in that their conscience has a name: The Holy Spirit. And the distinguishing between the luring ability of the two is as simple as the Bible on your table, because the Holy Spirit will never contradict it. Isn’t it just like that pesky devil, to create a perversion of a God created conscience state? I mean he does do this with everything else so it should come as no surprise. (Sigh) Even now, as I write, the iniquitous conscience is exploiting my mind with notes in the key of “You’re a failure. You don’t deserve to be in any kind of Master’s program let alone a future at any institution to the likes of a seminary at Princeton. Even your writings are counterfeit. Your intelligence is artificial and you being called to do anything for God is a joke. Your track record is inconsistent and you roam around the earth like a silly child aimlessly searching for your “nitch”. There is no such thing, when it comes to you.” But even still there is another conscience still at work telling me that this is not true.

Its the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

CASTING CALL!!!

Male Actor. mid to late 20’s. To play role of born again, well educated, biblically trained, outspoken, well groomed, personable, witty and amusing, goal oriented, initiative taking boyfriend, during holiday season. Person MUST be able to fend off questions and inquisitions from nosy family. MUST NOT make any mention of any engagements but alluding to, is an exception. This is a temporary position and will be terminated effective January 2, 2005.

Quote of the Week

"It's remarkable how the pattern of Love can resemble the pattern of insanity."
Frenchman on Matrix Revolutions

Heesh-The New Pronoun for God

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a little boy. On the other side of the land there lived a little girl. One day the little boy's mother and the little girls mother decided to take their children to the Central Park, as they did every week. As the little boy and the little girl were playing in the sandbox, the little boy asked,
"Susie Popsicle, why is God a He?"
"Wow", she responded, "I don't know Bitter Bobby. I guess He's a He, just like my daddy."
"Well, what's that supposed to mean?", he questioned.
You see, Bitter Bobby didn't have a daddy around. His daddy lived in Nomansland.
"Well", said Susie, "My daddy's the head of my house, just like God's the big Daddy who's the head of the world."
"That's stupid", Bitter Bobby snarwled. "My mommy's the head of my house. Everybody doesn't have a daddy Susie Perfect Popsicle."
"I didn't mean to make you mad. But, it doesn't matter anyway because the bible says that God isn't a He or a She. God is a spirit."
"So, then God is an it!", he excalimed.
"Not really. I mean, I guess. It's just not nice to call God an it."
"But it's nice to call God a He?", he questioned. "And who says what's nice and what's not nice anyway?"
"School of course", she answered.
"So a Big Bad Daddy God has to use words from our school?"
"Of course not Bitter Bobby. God goes beyond words from school."
"Then why do we say He??!! I'm just gonna start calling God a she."
"Don't do that."
"Why Susie, because it's not nice?"
"Well, obviously you don't agree with God being the Daddy. I think He's the the daddy and that's why I call him He. But, God isn't a He or a She."
"So what can we say?"The two sat and thought for a minute. Just then, Susie's mom called her over because it was time to go home.
"Well we can't say He with an "s" cause that would be "she" again, said Bitter Bobby.
"Oooh, I got it", exclaimed Susie. "How about Heesh!!"
"Hmmm", pondered Bobby, "I think I like that."
"Well I gotta go Bitter Bobby. I'll see you again next week."
As Susie walked back over to her mother, she mumbled to herself, "He's crazy. I'm not calling God no Heesh. It's not my fault Bitter Bobby's mad. God is my Daddy and i'm gonna call Him He!"

Not Mine...Lewis'

"You can be good for the mere sake of goodness: you cannot be bad for the mere sake of badness. You can do a kind action when you are not feeling kind and when it gives you no pleasure; simply because kindness is right; but no one ever did a cruel action simply because cruelty is wrong-only because cruelty was pleasant or useful to him. In other words badness cannot succeed even in being bad in the same way in which goodness is good. Goodness is, so to speak, itself: badness is only spoiled goodness. And there must be something good first before it can be spoiled. We call sadism a sexual perversion; but you must first have the idea of a normal sexuality before you can talk of its being perverted; and you can see which is the perversion, because you can explain the perverted from the normal, and cannot explain the normal from the perverted. It follows that this Bad Power, who is supposed to be on an equal footing with the Good Power loves goodness, is a mere bogy. In order to be bad, he must have good things to want and then to pursue in the wrong way: he must have impulses which were originally good in order to be able to pervert them. But, if he is bad he cannot supply himself either with good things to desire or with good impulses to pervert. He must be getting both from the Good Power. And if so, then he is not independent. He is part of the Good Powers world: he was made either by the Good Power or by some power above them both.

Put it more simply still. To be bad, he must exist and have intelligence and will. But, existence, intelligence and will are in themselves good. Therefore, he must be getting them from Good Power: even to be bad he must borrow or steal from his opponent. And do you now see why Christianity has always said that the devil is a fallen angel? That is not a mere story for the children. It is a real recognition of the fat that evil is a parasite, not an original thing. The powers which enable evil to carry on are powers given it by goodness."


lewis 

excerpt taken from Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis in his chapter entitled "The Invasion" (P.44,45)

The Jargon of Postmodern Panacea

"It (postmodernism) has deconstructed its entire universe. So all that are left are pieces. All that remains to be done is to play with the pieces. Playing with the pieces--that is postmodern."
-Jean Baudrillard

17th century rationalism, just another fancy word for modernism (or the other way around), was probably the beginning of this pragmatic thinking movement. Thus birthed the theory that knowledge can only be attained through reason and only then can truth be discovered. Only a fool would use faith as a means to attain knowledge. In Josh McDowell's [1]"The New Evidence That Demands a Verdict", he quotes CS Lewis as saying, "To be ignorant and simple now-not to be able to meet the enemies on their own ground-would be to throw down our weapons, and to betray our uneducated brethren who have, under God, no defense, but us against the intellectual attacks of the heathen. Good philosophy must exist, if for no other reason, because bad philosophy needs to be answered. (Lewis, WG, 28)". But, when Christianity responded with reasonable linguistics that would in turn, prove the case of the empty tomb as well as the deity and absolute truth of the person of Christ, postmodernism was concocted.
Dictionary.com defines postmodernism as the following:

Postmodernism - n : genre of art and literature and especially architecture in reaction against principles and practices of established modernism

Now, the post - modernist doesn't reject tradition as a means to employ reason to discover truth. The post - modernist rejects the idea that truth is absolute. They'll accept your idea, if your idea is one that accepts other ideas. As I expressed in my poem, it really is just a dumbed down version of syncretism, just without all of the ties to anything religious and prohibiting the use of any ancient Egyptian wigs. Therefore truths come in many different shapes, sizes, forms, philosophy's, jokes, and social constructs. Truth is as easy to come across as a natural average woman's size twelve in the clothing store. And to insist that every woman must be a size 5 in order to be accepted, is preposterous!

I would much rather the postmodernist not refer to himherself as a pragmatist, for there is nothing pragmatic about postmodernism. So much more respect I would have for this creature if heshe would just label themselves a modernist. After all, if modernism does support reason, and reason supports truth, then that is the essence of the practical pragmatist. Of course then there is the "progressive pragmatist" who's reason and truth changes (a word they use synonymously with progress) with time. Okay, I'll subside with this one, defining themselves as a postmodernist. Can anyone see the vague hopelessness of this person? Maybe the picture would be painted clearer if I, myself decided to label myself a "progressive Christian". And then my definition would be, "a Christian who's entire worldview and basis for life and absolute truth in Christ, would change with time and this so called "progress" that us advanced humans have made." Or better yet, a "subjective Christian", in which my definition would be, "a Christian who believes that truth in Christ is just one of many ways to get through the pearly gates."

In my class, I teach my students to counter everything that could be seen as an argument against Christianity. But, in my class I also teach my students to counter everything that could be seen as an argument for Christianity. For example; in 1491 to the greater society in Spain, the world was determined to be flat. But, in 1493 to the greater in Spain, the world was determined to be round. Did truth change? No. The world was always round. Now the progressive postmodernist would argue that this proves their case against the absurdity of Christianity. With time, mental power, research and technology, the world was proven to be round and the ridiculous notion that the world was flat was thrown in the garbage. Out goes Christianity! But, I asked a question; Did truth change? No. You see, the progressive postmodernist believes that truth changes with time, mental power, research and technology. In the instance of the world being flat or round, truth never changed. It was round in 1491, it was round in 1493 and it is still round in 2004. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever." (Hebrews 13:8) He is as true today just as he was yesterday, with or without your educational research.

Postmodernism is rebellion. Rebellion against anything and anyone that would enforce any rule of thumb to create structure and order in a chaotic society. They rebuff the idea that there can ever be a chaotic society at all. Chaos to them, is when there is order to us. We are on the verge of a post - primitivist movement.
Get ready; We are on the verge of a post - primitivist movement.
Postmodernism is rebellion. Rebellion against the authority of God. Merely a group of angry people, angry at God for not giving them all the answers. Rebellion against Jesus as being the way. And angry at God for having the audacity to give them only one choice and then if they don't choose that alternative, then not only are they left in a confused state of exclusion epistemology, they are left looking forward to an eternity spent with the green-eyed monster us Christians call the devil. These postmodernists are so creative with their euphemisms, no?

"Jesus said to him, 'I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.' " (John 14:6)

What's so sad is that it has come this far. Jesus, who came as a gift from God to redeem man back into just relationship with the Father, has turned into a dictating tyrant who gets His authority from a sadistic, gendered, HeGod. Who is to clean up this mess? Where are we the body: in the pulpits, in our snakeskin's, waving the offering plate to the blissful laypersons? Where are we the body: in the elderboard meetings tirelessly debating women preachers? We are those called to clean up this mess. I am not prophet, I am not apostle…I am garbage woman. (This example may be a bit radical, but bare with me) I am strong, I am confident, I am grassroots. I have the privilege of making sure that Christ's name as well as His message, is not tainted with the garbage of the world. I have the privilege of prohibiting Satan's dirty rumor about Christ's cruelty and instability doesn't go any further than it has already been allowed. Satan's whispering in their ears, "I am God. You are God. He is not God." He's whispering in their ears, "Christ the Savior? You mean the one that watched your Father walk out on you and never look back? Christ the Savior? You mean the one that started that corrupt church around the corner and named that lying, thieving, rapist a prophet? Christ the Savior? You mean the one that created you a homosexual, and then so conveniently put in His word that you are an abomination in His sight?"

Satan is liar. He's lying and defaming the character of Jesus. And there is no doubt that this misdemeanor with be brought to ultimate justice in his time. Until then, we have a responsibility as believers to present our case of absolute truth to the world.

"Therefore Pilate said to Him, 'So You are a king?' Jesus answered, 'You say correctly that I am a king. For this I have been born, and for this I have come into the world, (to testify to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice.' Pilate said to Him, 'What is truth?' " (John 18:37,38)

We know the truth. And His name is Jesus Christ.

[1] McDowell, Joshua. The New Evidence That Demands a Verdict. Thomas Nelsons Publishers. Nashville:1999.

The Whole Question of Metaphysics

Volume 15, Number 1
The Whole Question of Metaphysics
Report on the AAAS 1993 Boston meeting discussing "The New Anti-Evolutionism" and Professor Michael Ruse's surprising remarks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On February 11-16, 1993, the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) met in Boston for its 159th National Meeting. While several sessions addressed topics of great interest, one in particular -- "The New Anti-evolutionism" -- focused on issues which have long been featured in OR publications and correspondence.1 This report concentrates on that section.

Copy to view:
http://www.arn.org/docs/orpages/or151/151meta.htm

Quote of the Week

"How can someone who weighs over 600 pounds have the nerve to teach anyone about self-discipline?"

Adam Sandler on Buddha in "Anger Management"

A C-Chord in Harmony

Let's drink to friendships. Not those people who you talk to every once in a while. Not to those who love you 'cept when you overstep those forbidden bounds. Not even to those whom you just recently met in which the two of you seem so "conveniently" inseparable. But, to those who love you in a chord. Particularly, a C-Chord. A C-Chord consists of the notes C-E-G-C. What's interesting about the c-chord is that with the different notes, when they're put together they are complimentary. Their differences are put in harmony.

. 
So, here's to you Ebonee Joi and our first meeting in the basement of the old First Baptist Church when we were 11 years old and there were only 200 members as opposed to 5,000. Here's to our first argument at Great Adventure when you asked me to watch your bag while you went on the rollercoaster with the boys and I got jealous and told all the girls that you left me there so you could flirt. Here's to that great big secret in high school that could have ripped us apart, but look at us now. Here's to Devel forgetting to buy you a corsage at your prom and your smiling face watching me walk the red carpet at mine. Here's to voicemail and three way. Here's to you forgiving me freshman year when you came all the way up to visit me and our entire weekend was centered around my boyfriend. Here's to that following summer when we decided to become over zealous virtuous women of God and literally, trampled on anyone that got in our way. Here's to the time you met "your husband" and I didn't agree and we stopped talking for 3 months. Here's to Living Stones and Shepherd's Flock...or the artist formally known as. Here's to all your boyfriends and husbands that i've ever hated. Here's to the Bermuda trip, poor Keith, Prince and Medusa's Lair. Here's to when you were "dead wrong" and you needed someone to agree with you and I did even if you were wrong (and vice versa). Here's to every time you violated one of my pet pievial codes and I accuse you of being condecending, you accuse me of being moody and mean-spirited, and I in turn, accuse you of always "playing the victim". Here's to 20 missed calls and 5 voicemails, but 4 of them are from you in which they all take up the time span allowed to send a message.

Here's to the laughs, the tears, the betrayals, the arguments, the break-ups, the all night prayers, Sunday night prayer, the mood swings, the indecisiveness and the great whim of ideas never followed through with.

And finally...Here's to "Once Upon a Dream": Just another melody in C-Chord.

anyone else wanna make a toast?

The Misdiagnosed Depression

doctor 

It is days like today when I feel as if this walk is beginning to take a toll on me. I mean, having the utmost confidence and faith and solid convictions just to come face to face with disappointment and personal embarrassment. When you hold strong to the assertion that 4 + 4 will undoubtedly give you a result of 8 and yet you come up with 7 ½. Huh? What? Who is to blame for the mishap, I or God? Maybe neither. Maybe it was supposed to come to 7 ½, but because of assumption and the mere fact that I have been conditioned to believe that 4+4 = 8, there lies the status of error...ultimately leading to a misdiagnosed depression. We are a bunch of sad people because we feel as though we are failures. And failure has been a fundamental part of growth for many of us. But, our track records of failure are not as evident as many of us consider. Could it be that 4+4 did in fact, equal 7 ½ ? So you see, you didn't fail. On the contrary, you have succeeded. Mission accomplished! So why do we ask for God's will to be done and then experience the SLAP of disappointment? Why do we decree, "Lean not unto our own understanding" and yet presuppose? A difficult thing this is...this whole notion of trusting in God; believing on Him to handle our situations in due season and in due time with the exact amount of poise and grace that will generate such a perfect outcome that neither you nor I together could have put together years and years of educational research to discover. I believe that as Christians, we understand words and phrases such as "due season" and "due time", "grace" and "poise", but the glitch in our system comes with phrases like, "perfect outcome". It would only seem sensible...rational....logical to assume that this perfection would parallel our greatest wants and desires. So, if perfection is 8 and I need 4+4 to get there then doggonit, I believe I receive it IN THE NAME OF JESUS! But my dear Watson, it appears we have a quandary. The Christian has already premised the perfection of the outcome to suit his or her own needs! We have proclaimed from the pulpits that we lean not unto our own understanding, "but I know the answer is 8, cause that just makes sense". I suppose sense is not one of our strongest qualities apart from God. I remember when I was a 15-year-old sophomore in high school, I had the biggest crush on this guy names Wayne who was a 19-year-old senior and played for this championship basketball team. He was so fine! (from what i can remember at least) Well, after the game one day he came up to me in front of my friends (which was making quite a statement for my own rep) and asked for my number. Ahhhhhhhh! So Wayne and I talked for a few weeks, until finally he did it....he asked me to go with him to the movies. Ahhhhhhhhh! It was perfect. He was perfect. And the only thing that was standing between me, him and ultimate perfection, was my mom. Dun Dun Dunnnnnnnnn! So I finally waited for the perfect time to ask her. Of course that was when my grades were great and my behavior was exceptional. Who wants to ask a parent anything when their track record isn't spic and span?? So I asked and she looked at me candidly and answered, "No." No? NO? Can you justify your response with reason? Has not my behavior as well as my grades been ideal? Did you not say that you want what's best for me? Well then...THIS is what's best for me; because what's best for me, is defined by me. Now that I look back, I think, What in the world was wrong with me? Was I crazy? In any case, that's what i'll be asking my daughter if she ever tries to pull some nonsense like that. This grown man wants to take my 15 year old to the movies. I can see why that would cause one some discretion. And then for the rest of the week I suffered from this misdiagnosed depression because I thought that my 4+4 would undoubtedly get me my 8! What went wrong?
So my friends, don't be sad. Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice! Have confidence in the outcome of the Maker. Have confidence in the response of our Father, who knows best.

Introducing…the Subjective god.

To my goading, manifested conscious:

“Thought me and you would never part...maki da da
And you’d always be in my heart....maki da da
But, the ocean and the sea...maki da da
aint no match for Blasphemy...maki da da”

Here’s to vanishing memories...


Introducing…the Subjective god.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. GENTLEMEN AND LADIES, SPIRITUALISTS AND POSTMODERNISTS, RELIGIOUS ZEALOUTS, PRAGMATISTS AND FEMINISTS! I'D LIKE TO BRING TO THE STAGE TONIGHT A BEING WHO YOU ALL SHOULD BE FAMILIAR WITH IN YOUR OWN WAY. A BEING REDEFINING TRUTH BY ANY STANDARD ACCORDING TO YOUR OWN DESIGNATION. HESHE'S NO STRANGER TO THE TEMPLEMOSQUCHURCHUNIVERSITY. PUT YOUR SNAPS TOGETHER, FOR NONE OTHER THAN…THE SUBJECTIVE god!!!

i'm the imaginary friend you always thought you never had
the monster that hid in the crevasses of your closet
the spirit behind those moving dolls lying against your bedroom walls

i am your pressing subconscious
i am simply who you are
simply who you want me to be…metaphysically that is

remember Jesus?
remember buddha?
krishna, jameson and grudem?

remember marxx?
remember socrates?
lewis, hemingway and nietzche?

i am all of these combined.
i am syncretism defined,
seducing and confusing stable minds
with my ism
created by mans social loafing schisms.

i am alpha and omega
the never was, never is and never will be to come.
your reason is sufficient enough to discover me
Hell, your mirror is sufficient enough to discover me.

I am
the construction
of
your own
imagination
and desire.

Now come on, construct me…you know you want to.
sub·jec·tiv·ism n.. (s b-j k t -v z m)
1. The quality of being subjective.
2.
a. The doctrine that all knowledge is restricted to the conscious self and its sensory states.

Once Upon a Dream

I had this dream once. I was staring out of this window and I saw these two children playing in the snow. The little girl was barely tall enough to stand in it and the little boy was making snowballs with his hands and throwing it at the white picket fence. Suddenly, I felt a soft hand touch my shoulder and I looked over and there was a woman smiling at me. She began looking out the window alongside me. As she leaned on my shoulder a gentle whiff of her hair smelled of roses. I began to feel warm inside and a sense of relief overshadowed me. Those were my children and this was my wife. But when I woke up…But when I woke up. I realized that the man in my life was the woman of my dreams. Conflicting with this logic of naturalism was a passion redefining magnetism. This man supposing to be this woman, smelling nothing like roses, but drawing me nearer, nearer to this place of abominable utopia. Chains of infatuation and sin of attraction, was this a nightmare concluding a long nights slumber? If so then someone wake me! Someone! Wake Me!

"Once Upon a Dream" by. Khristi L. Adams - Coming Soon to a Theater Near You!!!!!!