http://ohdanggirl.tumblr.com/

^ meet me there or be square

underscore heart strings

I am (in love) with %$##&

%$##& is a gift from HIM

HE has called me to a life of p u r i t y

My p u r i t y has been stained by _ _ _ _ _ _-_ _ _

I was/am/are/ a slave to _ _ _ _ _ _-_ _ _

now IMANU'EL has set me free from _ _ _ _ _ _-_ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _-_ _ _ has no hold on me

_ _ _ _ _ _-_ _ _ has no hold on %$##&

worth IT IS waiting.

mud pies are my weakness.

"Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased." -C.S. Lewis

audio-soused.

This past January I diagnosed myself with music comas. And I got it bad.

Let me start of by giving you an example; before typing this, I booked clean through and hour and thirty on the floor of my dorm room, heater switched high, sock covered feet tapping, and listening; listening to The XX and Harlem Shakes and Jose Gonzalez and Dark Was The Night. On Sunday I was sucked into the land of White Stripes/Arcade Fire/Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The Books the Sunday before. Miike Snow the Monday before that. Lost in Louis Armstrong. Saturated in Sufjan. Animal Collective? Please. Bon Iver? Yes, please. I sit or lay down, cross my legs, or stretch them out, or cross them again, and soak. And breathe. If I had a syringe I would inject it. I would become a part of it. I would gasp it, gulp it. MUSIC. Ahhhhhh, music. Music in my lungs.

I used to not love music for music’s sake. I was picky. I would only like it if it was creative and innovative and indie and folk and instrumental and that’s about it. I couldn’t listen to something I didn’t like. Honestly, I was a accomplished music snob.

But not anymore!

Music is so addicting to me because it is created; a beautiful, breathing blessing from Yahweh. He placed that desire in us to crave it, to find satisfaction in it, to communicate and create and adulate in it. My desire to worship Him can be temporarily satisfied through music, and He knew that I would need that.

Our desires for splendor—for the second world—that cant even be brushed against in this present reality can be teased and tasted through music; drunk through the sound of cords and notes and strings.

Ah! I love it.

new kid on the block.

Blogs are dumb. They give the opportunity to pour out your soul to anyone willing to read. Or your perspective no one else understands. You’re friends don’t want to hear? Write it in your blog. You’re too scared to say it in person? Write it in your blog.

Well here I am writing it in my blog.

And to be honest (and clearly) I never thought I would have one. I don’t really know where this blog is going to go or if I am going to be the only one reading it or if I’ll even keep up my writing in it, but here it is. Here I am. Bold. Wordy. Hedge turning. Quirky. Bright.

I won’t lie. I won’t mince words. I will tell my slant as I see it and as pointless or unimportant as it may to anyone else, I don’t care. I will write it. I will write what I don’t feel like speaking; I will write as if no one is reading. I will write as dangerous as a Sicilian shotgun. Watch me.