Monday, February 27, 2012

Sinful Muffin

I never played for Coach Garth except for one time in a random practice when people were trying to see if the kids liked his coaching. Before I left practice, I was told by Mr. Anderson that I should write Mr. Branum a letter, telling him that I didn't want Scott Origas to coach anymore. As a high school freshman, I was infuriated but had no idea of what course of action to take. I just bottled the secrets.

Every single year that I was at CVA there was drama, conflict, and loads of BS arguing about athletics. I lost myself in the rage and saw red countless times during heated basketball games when the Eagles played against Midland or Park View. This inner fury wanted to see the opposing teams consumed and trampled upon. After the games I thought to myself about these feelings. What kind of person am I becoming when these desires are allowed to take control of me? I believe that anyone giving into these vicious ranges of emotion is essentially enabling the Devil to ram his hand up them and work their mouths and minds like a puppet, myself included.

I have never understood the pseudo secret agenda of crafty parents that seem to find purpose in meddling. Our school may as well have been the Middle East, pushing people in and out of power for political causes, none of which I can grasp. All that I know, as a student who has lived in silence and observance to these issues, is that what College View Academy has learned to promote and live for is not right. I knew it the day I was told to support the overthrow of a fellow Adventist coach. And I know it now as I read the comment barrages on FaceBook. Normally I find myself on the liberal sides of most topics. But a logical conservative side of me continues to say that our involvement in competition is wrong. In my four years at CVA, I saw evil dominate the good again and again. It was like a sinful muffin with some good-moment sprinkles on top.

I hold no feelings of contempt for Garth Glissman and I feel awful that we have put him through all the recent negativity. However, my imperfect human side is appalled at the words and actions of parents that were supposed to be an example to the kids and have failed. We've been led on crusades seeking to "be right" and "crush the people that don't agree with us". To my fellow peers and friends, we are better than that. But this is what we become when God is placed second in any area of our lives. I abhor the sports program because it has succeeded thus far in tearing us apart when we are supposed to be living as brothers and sisters, striving TOGETHER for Heaven.

Everyone must decide what is most important. If something is splitting up our school, our families, and our community, then is it worth keeping around? Every single time that CVA tries to turn around, come to God, and make things real, Satan attacks ever harder. This is clearly evident right here, right now as you see the online offenses, beating each other up over trivial matters. It is shameful but it isn't too late. I don't know details on the recently occurring events and I don't care. Everything becomes irrelevant and meaningless in the big picture.

Anything placed above Jesus in our lives is a sin. And that isn't me trying to beat anyone over the head with the Bible. It has remained a truth throughout time. All I desire is the unification of us as a Christian body. Not the division via petty disagreements. Let us reach towards Heaven, change our direction, break our weapons, rip up agendas, and come to Jesus. Let Him build our peace and fellowship. Stop the arguments. Stop the hate. Stop the competition. Don't worry about what anyone else is doing. It begins with you. Start loving.

"My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends". John 15:12-13 NIV

And yes, this is my blog you are on. It is where I show everyone how imperfect I am and my struggle to reach for God. Feel free to browse.

Friday, February 24, 2012

A Random Fap in the Face. Oops.

Well I didn't plan on blogging today, but considering that the time between posts continues increasing, I figure I should do it when I have the chance. I don't really have a specific purpose for this post, other than to just write something and give an update on this writer's life. Bear with me if/when things seem random and odd.

I've been trying harder than ever to learn how to pick better on my guitar, using my fingers. It can get pretty tedious at times, especially when moving from one chord position to another. And plucking those little strings is a pain in the ass, with me having such fat meaty fingers. My hands would probably be more well suited for punching someone's lights out rather than the delicate finesse it takes to pick on a guitar. Rhythm playing comes to me more naturally. Plus then I can sing along.

I decided a couple weeks ago that before I die I think I wanna try a rare steak. Even if I take one bite and purge right there on the table. Gotta try it. Just to say I have. To follow that up, I began a bucket list in a little notebook that I carry with me most of the time. In it, I have a page for bucket-list items as well as little poetry entries, random writings, thoughts, etc.

One of the reasons that I haven't been focused on blogging is because I've been helping with the creation of a senior class play at CVA. Being a one year alum is weird because I still feel like I'm supposed to be there and a part of things, so its nice to be able to work with them. I've been brainstorming with Add and Bay, and together the three of us have totally pwnd. I took it upon myself to just write out a rough draft. And at page 14, its still going strong, soon to be finished. I find great fulfillment in doing things like this. Because its like a baby. Writing it, organizing it, directing, and seeing the final product makes me feel absolutely wonderful. In the actual production of it, Add has taken interest in the sets, stage, and over all organization. Bay is psyched about creating costumes. And I shall help with running practice, act coaching, and seeing things go the right way. At the same time, we all will delve into each other's categories for advice and assistance. I explained it to Add and Bay like we're the Trinity. We all have our own main tasks, but we still get involved with the other areas of work. We joked with each other about the Holy Spirit advising Jesus. "Hey uh Jesus, maybe you should do this..." etc.

I'm trying to find daily peace in Jesus. I've known that I need this for a long time, but He continues to remind me. I can only speak for myself in this matter, but I know that my mind is a mess. Completely tangled, wound up, a lit fuse, and compressed to its maximum capacity all the time. I have to talk to my counselor about this and tell her all these things I think and feel and whatnot. The problem usually seems that I've already analyzed and self diagnosed myself, so telling her feels pointless sometimes. Without getting into all the nitty gritty, I'll just say that basic functioning, processing, and living a normal life all seem impossible on a regular basis for me. It isn't that I haven't tried before or that I'm copping out or that I've given up or that I am the way I am for attention. Its just open honesty. I keep feeling that I need to go somewhere or do something to attain clear thinking, peace of mind, and true rest. But God tells me that I can have that TODAY through Him. Conscious surrender and letting go make all the difference. I can't handle most of what is thrown at me. And He tells me that I don't have to. Tomorrow can worry about itself. Peace of mind is what everyone wants, but never can seem to get it. I might expound on this another time. Or hit me up, I'll chat your ear off about it.

SoyBean tells me that I should vlog (that's video blogging, for all your old folks out there *wink*). I don't know what to think about it.

Concerning coffee, I have discovered Scooters. Bannana told me for a long time I needed to try it, but I kept putting it off and not caring. But they have these Candy Bar lattes...... And that's all I need to say. Its all wonderful and February is "free shot month". To clarify, that's a shot of espresso. Those are the only shots I take. Except for gun shots. I shoot guns sometimes. Usually on video games. But shots nonetheless.

I've also been trying out melatonin to try and help myself sleep. Its not that I can't sleep when I get in bed... Its just that I have trouble choosing to get in bed. So I keep hoping that I'll feel sleepy enough with the natural supplement to stop my creating and go to sleep at a decent hour.

Anyways, I think I have arthritis and a severe case of ADD, so this is all I'll write for now. Feel free to comment about anything I babbled about. And if you haven't done so already, go find The Pumpkin Patch on FaceBook and LIKE it asap. Then you can be regularly notified when I post new shiz. That is all.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012


This is an article I've written and submitted to the ClockTower to hopefully be published in the future. Thank you to everyone that read my "Boulder" article that was recently featured in the ClockTower. Perhaps I'll put it up on my blog sometime. For now, I'll continue giving you guys sneak peeks at things I submit for contests and whatnot. The blog views are approaching 2000. I'm stoked.

Words. They are the love of my life. They’re used to express feelings, tell stories, and describe stuff. I really like expanding my vocabulary to move outside typical vernacular because certain words hit home with some people more than others. Some of my most disliked words are “good”, “bad”, and “okay”. There isn’t anything inherently wrong with them. They’re just so trite. They become little shields we can hide behind when people ask us how we are. I’ve felt this way about a lot of words, but especially in church. As a kid, it seemed I’d always hear the same things over and over again. Words like “faith” and “grace” would be constantly mentioned. I used to wonder what they actually meant. It wasn’t until late in high school that I finally gained some real understanding behind the religious cliches.
Faith, I learned was different than believing. You can believe in something but not have faith in it. I believe that certain things exist, but I don’t necessarily have faith in them. I believe in the wind and I have faith that it will fly my kite. Faith is a forward action, not a passive one. Usually it requires a bit of risk. Tithing is one of the best ways to physically demonstrate faith. Especially in a world of economic instability, giving money back to God can feel impossible. But in doing so, you are physically having faith and allowing Him a chance to show Himself in providing for your needs.
Grace is a beautiful thing and one of the cliches I dislike most. It doesn’t seem like people are aware of its meaning when they thank God for it. Perhaps if you would ask a person what grace is, they could give you a textbook definition. But its more than that. Grace is how we are saved. Grace is God choosing to take us to Heaven even though we don’t deserve it and cannot ever earn it.
Then there were other words that I heard used for God. Words like Father or Master. I’d hear people sing “What a Friend we have in Jesus”, and that didn’t make sense to me. Jesus didn’t feel like a friend. My friends felt like friends. God didn’t feel like a Father. To me, Jesus was Someone far away chilling with God and a Ghost. Not a friend. I preferred the words “Savior” and “Redeemer” better. They felt more theatric. More epic. They really captured who Jesus was and is to me. The Being that saved my soul and gave me a chance for something better.
Words are important. And it is important to know what they mean. Empty religious phrases thrust into self-glorifying public prayers mean nothing. Big elaborate words hold no water when you don’t know their meaning. Prayer and worship become a sloppy soup of pseudo-spirituality. Throw in a some “grace” here and a hint of “faith” there. How tastefully disgusting. It may look appealing, but I imagine it tasting like an old shoe. When a person prays or speaks of God, intention is everything. You can usually tell when someone is genuine. But even if everybody else is deceived by a showman’s prayer, God knows the truth. He sees to our core. He cuts through the webs and masks of our attempted exterior perfection. This also means that even simple prayers are glorifying to God. That includes prayers with “good” “bad” and “okay”. He’d much prefer basic heartfelt sentences to a mouthful of huge meaningless words. God sees past words and appearances straight to what our soul is trying to communicate. Words are important. The way we use words is important. But in the end, its the motivation that really counts.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Coffee Shop Girl

Here is my Valentine poem. I've been wanting to write a love-ish poem for awhile, but never have had much reason to. But this idea has been floating in my mind and so here it is. Have a Happy Valentine's day everyone. Whether single or in a relationshit, make the best of it. I will be working. That is all. <3

There is a silhouette inside my mind
Of a woman in the future, ahead in time
The ideal picture is foggy, and yet a dream
But I imagine I’ll know her, the instant she’s seen
I want a girl that can drink her coffee black
And still enjoy sweeter things, while typing on a Mac
A fellow writer, artist, a kindred spirit with whom I can relate
Someone with dreams and ambitions, to do something great
Someone to calm my nerves when stress abounds
And sit with me awhile when I fall down
A coffee-shop girl with a character, so bold
Who can curse like a sailor, but have a heart of gold
She’ll be a girl with whom things make sense
And I’ll pray to God she’s got chill parents
I hope she and I don’t need each other at all
The best love comes from choices, and so in love, I’ll fall

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

The 69th

This post I dedicate to my bros, near and dear, even when far away.

The reason I'm making this a special post is because it is indeed, the 69th post. At a glance, you may realize that you've been reading a pervert's blog all along and now you must stop. But if you read on, you will understand. (Therefore, if you see me reference 69 in any further posts, you will know the reason. Woo hoo.)

While the number 69 represents something best explained by the Kamasutra, to me it serves as a harbinger of times past with my closest friends. No, it doesn't mean I've shared intimate times in said intimate positions with my best friends. However, reference to 69 has become an intricate ongoing joke between us guys that would often crop up when we'd hang out. True, it isn't the most ingenious or mature thing to laugh about, but it was/is a part of us.
Cups at Village Inn we artfully arranged.

You may wonder how we could get a kick out of it over and over again, but its just like with any "secret funny" you have with your friends. For instance, when we'd be discussing a serious plan for a project and we wonder how much of something we'll need, someone might say "Well, we'll need about 69 of them, I think". When such jokes were inserted into the conversation upon unsuspecting ears, we'd literally be rofling. As I said before, this post isn't just about that magical number. 69 is only part of the whole scheme of things. 69 reminds me of my friends. Particularly, my bros.

Our group was and still is a strange bunch and we usually all referred to each other with nicknames. Ninety percent of the time was spent at Add's giant house-mansion-castle, the perfect haven for food-consuming, zombie-killing, caffeine-hyped teenage boys. He and his brothers, SoyBean/Sora and Paxward/PaxyMad, were the game gurus and always had an open controller for someone to play. In addition to all the Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper, they'd open cans of Whoop-Ass on us inexperienced Halo and COD players. Twas discouraging at first, but proved to be good motivation to step up one's game.

Mikey and Matthias were the Puerto-brothers and long time friends with Add's family. I got to know them during my five years at Larson Lifestyle Center. Mikey became known as "Dumb Farmer" because of his country-boy persona and his incredibly improbable ideas that he considered legit. I got close to their family when we'd all go out to their farm-house-place for pellet gun wars.

Thomass is my best friend who I've known since Kindergarten. We didn't really decide to be friends, it sort of just happened. Throughout grade school, the number of males decreased rapidly and eventually we found ourselves needing to click, and doing so with ease. A Dynamic Duo was formed.

Mikey and I.
High school was also when T-Man came along. He filled in a third spot, creating a Terrific Trio. Its interesting what vast differences there are between the three of us. The logical, black-and-white, number-crunching mathematician. The hands-on, physical labor, automotive, sports guy. And the passionate, artsy, charismatic writer. Yet something was so natural about the three of us hanging out. It worked well.

Before high school, in 8th grade, our group was smaller. The guys in the class below me were instant bros because the two classes combined, making for quick but long term friendships.

Alex (I guess I don't have a nick name for him) was a little punk back in my Junior high days that liked to flip me off. So I'd pick him up by his jacket and hold him against a locker. We were buds though, and became closer as time went on. Since that time, he's sparked an appetite for adventure in me and has been a great person to work with on projects. His business-mind and inclination towards efficiency have proven quite useful in balancing out and assisting in making our day dreams reality.

For awhile, I wasn't sure what to think about Meier. He was a quiet guy, and I'd never talked to him much before. But somewhere between long nights at Add's and random moments at school, we became buddies. A computer-guy and dedicated gamer, Meier and I were kindred spirits, and soon were bros.

I'd known Ethaniel and Basketball Jones long before they became "bro status". Their moms worked with my mom and so we'd always hang out together at the office parties or vacations. Ethaniel and I underwent a couple years of disdain for one another as we each pursued the same female. Lesson learned: bros before... ladies. But as Barney Stinson would amend, "Unless she's hott".

Back in high school, the weekend was our playground; a blank surface where practically anything could happen if we'd just dream it. Of course, the vast majority of weekends consisted of late night gaming, fast food runs, and YouTube watching. And though video games were the main draw for us, even the most avid gamers became fatigued and sought other outlets. We'd get bored and literally sit around and just talk. No matter how unproductive or inappropriate or ridiculous, it was each other's presence that counted. All of us just living and being in the same place was what bonded us together. The pointless conversations, stalemated arguments, and outlandish ideas made for memorable times.

Bros about to enjoy a feast.
Over the years, those nights and events were full of fun and endless laughter. But eventually there came serious times. In striving to refocus our lives on God, CVA began what was called "The Atmosphere Project". Though it was not the answer to everyone's questions and problems, there were positives. One of the things that took place was a series of nights where anyone could stand on stage and basically open themselves up. Whether it be telling about their parents' divorce or drug experimentation, us kids were allowed to share and feel safe. Of course there was controversy when some people used it as a means for attention or other reasons. But regardless, there were a few months where us guys explored a different area of our friendships.

The first few nights were especially deep as we exposed the secret areas of our beings with one another. Friday nights and Sabbath afternoons where we'd talk and discuss important matters in our lives, give advice, and just listen to what the others had to say. Though things changed and the regular meetings ceased, it became obvious that what the group of us gentlemen had was more than casual gaming and adventures. We were bros.

These events and moments aren't ancient history or things that happened long ago, though they feel very distant at times. I find myself reminiscing on days gone by. Times when things were easier, even though I know they didn't feel that way back then. Usually when I become nostalgic, I remember moments when I felt indestructible and carefree with my bros. Whether at Add's house, at the lake, or driving around late at night for the hell of it. They aren't just my friends, they're my bros. People I've chosen to become close to. With them, I've built couch sleds, killed zombies, ate too much Taco Bell, drank way too much caffeine, discussed girls, pondered life's mysteries, gone swimming at 4 am, constructed a giant Crunchwrap Supreme, baked a MineCraft cake, collected thousands of hot sauce packets, set off countless fireworks, and thrown 11 dollars in pennies out of my car. I've laughed, brainstormed, shared personal things, and even cried with these extraordinary gents. So for me to not dedicate this monumental 69th post to them would be an atrocity.

Here's to you, my bros. I don't know where I'd be without your love (no homo, maybe a little) and support. May we continue being awesome, accomplishing our goals, and someday there will never be any distances between us anymore. I can't wait.

Sitting on our baby and first couch sled "The Wood Screw"
Left to right: BasketBall Jones, T-Man, Me, Thomass 

A quick end-note. All my friends are important. I have stronger connections with some friends more than others. This post is about those I am most strongly attached. All of "The Guys" know who you are, even if not mentioned in this post, and I cherish each of you. Nuff said.


This is the second poem I submitted for the poetry contest. Now I'm just crossing my fingers and hoping that one of them will win perhaps. We shall see what happens.

Dearly beloved Mother, long ago you struggled
Problems were never few
The difference was that there was no one
Who came to stand beside you
The way you’ve remained a pillar
As your boys have wrestled tough issues
Hark, single Mother your youngest is crying
Laying there on the floor
Five in the morning
And you stand inside the door
You will comfort until you die
Carrying love for the boys you adore
Hark, single Mother your eldest’s mind is a web
That he tries and fails to decode
Fighting demons out on paper
So that others can be shown
You will listen until you die
Carrying love for the boys you’ve known
See, strong Mother the sons you have raised
And taught to live right
Your words and impact are never wasted
Though sometimes may be trite
A mother’s love is forever
And it tells me everything will be alright

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Rushing the Roses

Here's a longer poem, but one that kinda just came to me and I expanded the concepts. It'll be one of several poems that I'll be submitting in the next couple days to my college's poem contest. Hit me up with feedback so I can make last minute tweaks if need be. Enjoy the poem and enjoy life.

What is a man
If he has no heart
Lacking passion in his life
No hobbies or art
Where is happiness found?
Surely not in the commerce all around
He’ll walk along his path with purpose and a plan
Marching on the Yellow Brick Road, a prideful man
And there he shall see
In the grass so green
Beautiful flowers to turn a profit if he can
What is a man
That has no courage within?
To make something great of himself
Improve the condition he’s in
Where does happiness reside?
Surely not in a content robotic lie
He’ll walk along his path, settled in his ways
Trudging on the Yellow Brick Road, complacent every day
And he may briefly glance
At beauty in the distance
But fear of the unknown leaves it there to stay
What is a man
If he has no brain?
And no sense of reason
So an argument may be sustained
How is happiness discovered?
Surely not with substances and one-night lovers

He’ll walk along his path, zero common sense
Like a dog on the Yellow Brick Road, outside his fence
There he will spy
The flowers with his eyes
Which he will stomp for a game he invents
What is a man
Who cannot appreciate the flowers?
Love their simplicity and beauty
Rather than squelching them with power
But does happiness only spring from the ground?
Or is it in the little things, all around?
He’ll walk along his path, a goal-oriented mind
Neglectful of the Yellow Brick Road’s chance for a good time
Then the adventure stops
Red shoes halt clocks
The journey should’ve outweighed the finish line