Met with Ann Pitini today, the area manager, whatever that means.  She was cool, told me what I had to do to clear up the infraction and all that jazz.  Turns out Derek knew before I told him, which kinda takes a load of my chest but not really, for I still owe 125 via check/money order.  The check's impossible; my parents would flip if I told them the real reason why.  I'll have to find some way to get a money order.

I had a dream that I was arguing with everyone from FWC about my problems, something to the effect of what exactly had been going on.  My dreams are never very specific in my memory.  It's like I interpret them from the get go, and those concepts qualify what I remember of the dream.  I ended up arguing with Rebecca along the course of my dream (imagine that).  In other words, it's like my dream was forcing me to come to terms with what was and now what is, if that makes any sense at all.

Speaking of FWC, I don't really wanna go back there at all anymore.  It'd be awkward with this phusebox and all.  At least the smart ones would ask questions that is.  I'm just honest on this journal of sorts.  Second of all, I think of what's gone on there is bullshit, not to exclude other more deserving places.  In all honesty, I think the main driving factor of that place is a collective group of people who've attended there for a long time, or maybe not.  Maybe it's the other way around.  I may piss you off, but I don't care.  I've attempted to say in the open through subtlety what would be inappropriate in those same venues to say with tactless speech and wayward wording.  Problem is, Turning Point is only better or worse for this, but what am I saying?  Who knows truth anymore?

Churches are only well-equipped for ministry when they realize that the oversaturation of men's involvement/thinking in the work of God is counterproductive to the eventual goals for that kingdom of Heaven for which they work; however, the difficulty lies in the assumption that places of oversaturation exist just not in the church in which such corruption is mentioned.  If don't understand this, fuck you. 

Anyway...Such has been my dealings with most churches, i.e. FWC and FRBC as well as several others.  The levels vary, depending usually on the involvement of the key members.  Larger churches, I believe, would not tend to have such problems because they are forced to rely on structured settings to begin with--the difference would be neglible.  Spirituality in those cases is more remote altogether in dealing with ecclesiastical issues; so I guess you could say the problem exists but in an inextricable form.  A harmony is formed, an understanding of the size of the church and the lack of individual involvement in key church issues.  This also means that such issues can be covered up easily by the bureaucracy that be in such cases, but these larger bodies are not so much my concern as the places I'm involved in.

My problems with FWC, quite frankly (again not excluding others but hey this is my opinion block), is that rod needs to be ripped from the asses of the bureaucracies involved there.  Because it wasn't, division was created.  Those involved know that division well enough for me not to rehash the clear infractions on the parts of both parties.  If you don't get it or how both parties fucked up, you're probably a bumbling dipshit anyway, or 8 years old, so it doesn't matter.

Anyway, at the time I was involved in FWC teen Bible quiz program.  For one stupid thing they enforced was this crazy notion that all tournaments could not be sanctioned if they conflicted with a church service.  Seeing as how Bible quiz in the southeast part of the country sucks relative cock, this statement alone was proverbial blasphemy.  Obviously we were getting the Bible, I mean, I memorized all the fuckin books I attempted to memorize (fucking is ironic, but not as ironic as you).  Second, no one bothered to memorize all of the said material except me and sometimes Josh, when he felt like it: this excludes concordance material, about which no one really gave a damn save my dad, because I couldn't figure out a good way to memorize such things quite honestly.  Towards the end, obviously, I was getting kinda pissed.  To memorize all that without any help whatsoever sucked, despite the fact that I didn't even give it all of my time.  Plus, the cliques of tbq nationals weren't much into obliging sensible people.  The national championship is riddled with closeminded imbecile children with harsh imaginary rules and worse temperaments.  But for all this criticism, I do say I did have fun most of the time while doing it; but obviously, these things I've said overcame that enjoyment enough to push me out of the program.  I do not deny the importance of such a program in the Christian faith for any denomination, and the game attached to it makes it more reachable for people.  People fashion for themselves labels for people, which I guess in some cases I have, but do so with reason hopefully that you will understand my case, and not do the same for me.  The problem is that the problems shared a small minority as far as the program was concerned until the battles over the distribution of funds as well as various rulings came to a simmer.  My parents abandoned the program for idealistic conflicts with the leadership in place and furthermore the church for the same reasons.  The ideals of the leaders did not promote necessarily the best of the best; instead, tbq was used more as do what you want social time in comparison to my parents views.  I do believe now that a balance between those is attainable and affable in the grand scheme of things, but in this case, the program simply did not put out as much as it could.  We dicked around with it to an extent.  Also, the funds were distributed likewise according to these socialist ideals.  Funds were partial to parts of the program that favored more involvement as opposed to reward for progress.  Such ideals eventually carried over to the Fine Arts program, but TBQ by far is a better example of these facts.

Truth is, FWC embraced ideals that favored more control by a few and less say by those it aspired to help through pacification of the people by paying everyone the same respect judicially.  Unfortunately, this balance did not coexist with sensible ideals.  If one imbalances funding for seed as opposed to maturation, one's crop results in dying young species.  Obviously, after my parents left, the program lasted one more year, and subsequently died.  No help existed because obviously funding for said party time (or practice time) outweighed the continuation of such results to nationals.  Everyone relied on those share and share alike techniques to reach fruition and did not.

In other words, you can't dole out money for a program that doesn't do anything.  So yeah, you have a lot of kids in your program, but no one cares if they don't do anything.  If you don't reward memorization, and instead reward half-assing shit right before a tournament, no one will do anything and that's what happened.  My parents were gracious enough to say, "Ok, it's your ball: roll with it," and step out.  But then it was abandoned.  You can't have your cake and eat it too.  They were aspiring to do greater things with that program, but that didn't happened.  Apparently, letting people take care of their respective lots in a way they see fit as a form of management is inappropriate to some people.

You dipshits, you are the same people who kicked out Roy Stone for not understanding what his dreams and aspirations were.  You'll get nothing from God, b/c God sends people your way and you kill them.  Instead, God sends you people who keep you in the dark and keep you from stretching beyond your comfort zone.  So you sit around idle all the time.

You're the same people who don't take the ministry of God seriously.  You have ideas, but God doesn't enter into those.  You're the ones who cared more about getting to Fine Arts Nationals than actually doing well in what God has helped you to do.  You assholes, you would've been better off had you lost, but now you are delusional for your own grandeur.

I hate these people who don't question, who never ask, who just sit around and let the mundane sweep them off their feet.  It's pathetic.  I've dealt with it enough to vomit.  No offense, but I want to offend you.  What ever happened to signs and wonders will follow you?  What ever happened to quality craftmanship?

But what am I talking about?  No one listens and no one understands...

I heard a kid tripped on x; no seriously, his chains felled his legs right over the spot of his comatose girlfriend.  Pompous windbag that I am, never seem to eat anything but spam.  I called up my girlfriend: she said God told her to, then I said fuck you, God told me two things about you.  You're a whore and so's that church your ex-boyfriend went to.  Said he tripped into porno, then confessed he was horno.  Are you into sex?  I know I am; I've extrapolated from the Bible all that can.  I even masturbated to the Song of Solomon, if you believe that.  Well, what's the difference?  Your reverence for God makes no cents, either, if you believe her of him, depending on the gender of a general sex offender who paid indulgences to make sure the priest would never tell, neither would the child he molested, that he was a child molester.  But if you're celibant and made that sacrifice, why do you sacrifice issac on your sexual palette.  Well, Andy Stanley, and Pat Robertson said it, it must be true to form, always stupid and fucked up just like worm Kahn put in those guys on that one star trek movie no one saw, b/c they were too busy praying about a witnessing opportunity that God just gave when their friend said that he wasn't sure where he'd when he'd die and you just stood there like what trying to avoid the dumbfuck because you're a superficial bastard.  Yeah, that time.  But I'm only here cause Pat Robertson kicked me out of Venezuela after he killed the girl I impregnated to by saving her baby then sending her husband to a war in a country for oil.  Then he died.  Then she commited suicide because the church only gave fried chicken for a week.  Said something about she was whore, or a little more, when the pastor knocked up her door.  Maybe that wasn't my baby anymore.  After all this, trust me, I've made as much art as the kid's girlfriend who tripped on x after she inhaled glass shards for an hour took off her clothes after making me promise I wouldn't do it til I proposed.  Wow, that was awkward I told her.  That bitch wasn't even hot.  I was just that ex-boyfriend, totally misguided and missing the point.

So I was watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind just a minute ago, and as cheesy as it sounds, I used the restroom after it ended and wept...

And you know what?  Fuck all of you.  Fuck all these people who tell me how critical I am, how judgmental I am.  God, you infernal bastards!  You have no idea who I am or what I'm about.  You imagine and generalize out some monotonous motherfucking piece of carbon.  Tack on nicknames like the fucking walking Bible or some fuckin entertainer.  I hate you all.  I've always hated your hypocrisy.  I tried to be like you...to be liked.  Half of you wouldn't give a damn if I died.  I'm so tired of my charades...this bitterness is only getting worse.  I've tried to forget the Spirit.  I've tried to forget all I've known.  All I seem to do is push everything away...

I'm just recounting these memories of mine...all these memories...
Why'd I even bother with this shit......

Make Yourself by Incubus

If I hadn't made me, I would of been made somehow..

If I hadn't assembled myself, I would've fallen apart by now..

If I hadn't made me, I'd be more inclined to bow!

Powers that be would have swallowed me up,

But thats more then I can allow!

(But!)


If you let them make you! They'll make you paper-mache!

At a distance you're stong, until the wind comes..

Then you'll crumble and blow away...

If you let them fuck you! There will be no foreplay!

Rest assured, they'll screw you completely, until your ass is blue and grey!


You should make amends with you!

If only for better health!

But if you really want to live...

Why not try, and Make yourself?


If I hadn't me, I'd have fallen apart by now..

I wont let them make me..It's more then I can allow!

So when I make me, I won't be paper-mache..

And if I fuck me...I'll fuck me in my own way!!!


You should make amends with you,

If only for better health!

But if you really want to live...

Why not try, and make yourself?

---------

I've never particularly enjoyed the music to this song (there are much better Incubus songs around, especially Fungus Amongus).  The difference is what it says and the problem it entails.  People always talk of living beyond the proverbial influence and/or not caring what others think.  If you really didn't care what others thought, you would do whatever you wanted, but you don't.  Making yourself only works half the time, and even then, can fail in bringing you happiness.  Fuck people, but fuck these stupid transcendentalists who say through human progressive psyche we can attain shit beyond our wildest dreams.  My "progress" hasn't made me content--much less, happy.

Like as the hart desireth the water brooks, so longeth my soul after Thee, O God, yea even for the living God.  When shall I come to appear before the presence of God?  My tears have been my meat day and night, while they daily say unto me, "Where is now thy God?"

That's a good question.  We can't all have what we want, but I can I be given the satisfaction of wanting what I have?  Am I always to lay my head on bed of discontentment?

Didn't go to church tonight, which I kinda regret but not totally.  New sport trend is ultimate frisbee now, but I'm not sure whether it just vexes me more.  I'm just waiting for a break, is all...

Just so you know, the above biblical reference came from a song by Herbert Howell we're doing in chamber.  I like its sound...

I want to lose all my self-inhibition to people.  I hate people.  I wanna be blazed again...

For those of you who believe things like this picture are gross, inhuman, or inappropriate, this is no joke.  I came across a site with pictures like this one, and they scared me from depression and bitterness for a time.  May these souls always remind me of not only my own mortality but the glory in life I have.

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -
And admirably schooled in every grace;
In fine we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

Well, it turns out again plans have been foiled.  No fungi last night, just green, which again doesn't do anything for me except make things taste better and calm my sporadic swings of emotion down, which is cool, but not really what I wanted last night.  Only having one cup of hunch punch, cause my system's weird about drinks of that nature, I wasn't tipsy either so that last night was more of a disappointment than anything else.  Ah...experimentation...or something like it...

I got my Ion Dissonance cd in today but I can't get it b/c (a) I got the email twenty minutes before the package pick-up closed and (b) I'm in a hotel room with my dad right now about to finish another gay chem 1310 lab.  Man, I hope I do well in these classes; I just wanna fix my grades and be able to springboard off of that to something else so that I can figure out what I want to do.

My birthday's comin up and looks to be another drag, although I'm not sure if my mom's planning anything yet.  She keeps asking me, but I don't know what I want to do.  Personally, I'd sooner forget it than anything else.  Earlier, she even asked me if anyone I knew would wanna come down.  I'm like what the hell in my mind.  The only one who would want to would be my ex and that would just be awkward.  Whatever...I'll try to think of something...

Friday night's the big night...can't go into specifics b/c dumbasses follow lead so easily.  Anyway, I got to conjour up forty bucks for the trip; I don't know, though: Trotter keeps babbling about mentally preparation and all this shit.  Really, I just wanna sit back and relax when it hits, hopefully it's good, unlike the dro, which didn't do too much.  Let's not forget the unfortunate two nights one of which is gonna cost me fuckin seventy-five bucks.  That's gonna suck.  Worried about school; I need to go to class.  Hey, I'm just lazy, but I think I can make it tomorrow.  Some reason my internet seems slower now, which sucks, but oh well.  It's kinda been on the skits ever since the start of the semester.  Getting better at guitar, working on some really basic sweep picking and rakes, but it's gonna take some time to be up to speed, if that day even comes.  Or if I fail miserably at my own dreams...it will be a while...but I'm waiting, even if it kills me...which it might...

I went to Dunwoody tonight, and attended Gravity, the youth function there.  It was alright overall: worship was really good, but the feelings died down in the end.  There was a salutary exchange of words with Kristen (or however the hell you spell her name)--nothing of fantastic report, I'm afraid.  I need to actually work out cause I haven't done that in a while (probably make me feel better).  This young woman (cause I don't want to call her a girl, seeing as she's 23 and engaged, but woman alone sounds overkill on formalities and such) named Sarah reintroduced herself.  I say reintroduced because the first time she didn't really bother to pay attention to me.  It's ok; her head was in a different place.  She seems happy with her fiance, the main service talented drummer named John, a fact which I like because I feel joy in knowing other people have well-rounded relationships and divorce seems so fashionable nowadays.  God, it's starting feel like ages have passed, like I'm in a parallel universe where I'm involved in everything.  What the fuck ever, though.  It doesn't matter, not really.

I like the college group at Dunwoody, not because I can relate to most of the people there, but because the people there seem trustworthy, stable, and cool (no consistent language here).  They're all older, despite the fact that there are some people more in my line of existence except that they don't come around to what's known as The Edge--Kristen being one of those "stragglers", I'm afraid.  She seems busy, or at least preoccupied with other things other than relationships.  It's hard though with relationships.  I'll manage.

I don't mind any of this sounding selfish since no one on phusebox I know knows about this site, except Nathan, the creator of this little jig I'm using.  I just need to pen my thoughts, you know...