“Float” Short Film

I was editing my latest project and then I realized just far I’d come.

Yes, I miss China and my friends who are traveling and elsewhere, but am I lost? … No. I’m very much where I need to be. I’m doing what I was born to do. And, not to mention, with who I ought to be with. I dress and behave the way I do because I was always intended to do so! If surprised, it is only because I allow myself to enter that state and when I leave, there is melancholy that echos within me. I am doing and succeeding, moving forward in it all.

Single and 25, I have reached an epitome close to midnight, the night before I would exhibit my short film to my class.

Layered Gelatin

Connected

Everything is so warmed and untimely organized… and yet, life is so… unconnected.

Well…

I’m 24 and I’ve never been on a date. Ever.

How much of a loser am I?

D.O.T.

-
^
A line. A space. Goundlevel. 0. Nothing. Air. Oxygen. A wall. A base. The letter “I” laying down. A lowercase letter “L”. A number 1. A stem. A rod. A Measurement. A baseball bat. A column. A door. A slit. A slice. A lowercase “I” without the dot on top. Part of the number 4, 7, and letters A, B, D, E, F, H, I, K, L, M, N, P, R, T, V, W, X, Y, and Z. A scroll bar. A bar. A layer. A board. A window. A window sill. A seat. [Shortened to save space.]

D.O.T. = Don’t Over Think.

Smile and be happy!

A Hollow Wall

this morning, i sat in a room filled with friends and i felt as though i were in a room filled with strangers.
last night was Christmas morning at my house because my family would be, once again, incomplete on the real christmas day.
today, i reviewed the events of this world and decided to stop hoping because the world was doomed anyways.
last sunday, i sat in church and watched people begin to fall asleep as soon as the pastor reached the pulpit.
the day before that, my spiritual dad got married and i lost a vital organ of my spiritual life, not to mention; three nights of sleep.
tonight, i will work hard and attend a christmas party late, though go unnoticed because that’s how it usually is.
right now, … i dream of a better tomorrow and a future filled with history makers, stepping forward and taking the stand for Truth.

yup, that sounds about right.

still small *symphony*

A family of five move into a lovely house on a middle-class street. The father of the family is a doctor and the mother is a lawyer who is only hired for the biggest cases. The eldest son is recruited by NASA to become a scientist in the lab and the middle child is a young woman who receives honors in all her college courses and has a promising future. The youngest of them all is a young girl who, unlike her parents and siblings, is rather clumsy and forgetful. Having been born with slight complications and premature, she was a mistake, but her parents decided to keep her despite the huge gap of years between her other siblings and herself.

Everyday, she wakes up and gets ready for school on her own. By the time she is ready, she toasts her own slice of bread and locks the door as she leaves, walking the 2.5 miles to school. The father and mother have to wake up earlier and take the train to the city to make it to their jobs on time. The oldest son drops off the older daughter on his way to work. Alone but understanding, the youngest carefully makes he way to school and back. Though she returns around three, she is the first to reach the empty house.

After a small snack of whatever she could find in the pantry, she moves through the house, looking for dirty laundry and washing them, using the step-ladder when she can’t reach the detergent. Hanging the clothes on the lines in the backyard and then collecting them again all before six. In between, while she waited for the laundry to wash and dry, she would clean what needed to be cleaned, make a list of “needs” on the refrigerator, and other miscellaneous tasks.

By the time six-thirty rolled around, she would be in her room, doing her homework quietly. One by one, first her father and mother returns. Both tired and speaking softly, they seem to attempt to relax. Then her older brother and sister return home, both quite exhausted from the day’s events. And, when dinner is ready, the little girl skips down stairs, joining her family in a quiet meal. Usually, halfway through the meal, both parents are called away from the table due to phone calls. When the older siblings finish, they hurry off to their rooms to do their homework and studying to prepare for the next day. But, with quietness, the little girl would clean up what she could and head back up stairs to her room, unable to do more for her family.

And so, the days passed, each year that passed filled with more and more neglect until, one day not too far in the future, the little girl returned home to find a man in a uniform waiting on the front steps. Knowing her manners, she invites him in. And as he waits for her parents to return home, he watches the little girl rush around the house, doing the laundry and cleaning. As she finishes, she rejoins him, giving him a cup of water. Close to five, another officer, a woman, rings the doorbell and the young girl invites her in.

The minutes creep by and the young girl, finally, finds that all her family members are late. As she picks up the phone, she checks the messages to find that none are left. She checks the garage to see that no cars are there, and as she opens the front door to wait, the two guests join her, sitting on the front steps with her.

As nine rolls by, she stands and bows apologetically, saying, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s keeping my parents and my brother and sister. They’re usually home by seven, but I can’t get a hold of any of them.”

At that point, the woman officer speaks up, “Oh dear, well, I am from the station down in the City. I needed to tell your brother and sister that your parents died in a subway accident. They won’t be coming home anymore,” she adds, sadly.

At that point, the man speaks up as well, “Well, I’m here on behalf of NASA. There was an accident and your older brother was involved in it. Sadly, when I attempted to contact your parents, I couldn’t reach them. Your older sister was also involved in an on-campus shooting. Neither will be returning to this house,” he finishes.

Both look at each other and then to the little girl who still stands before them. Contemplating what to do, the little girl bows again, “Thank you for telling me. Good night.” Rushing into the house, she shuts and locks the door behind her. And, on her knees, she begins to pray to God.

***

Although the occupations aren’t true, this short story is based on a true story. Kids that fall victim to “accidents” are everywhere. The question is how they choose to see things, and whether or not you will be there to help/guide them or not.

***

Years later, the young girl, having been placed with her grandparents, walks into a small chapel. Kneeling before the cross, she bows her head, closes her eyes, and begins to pray. As she finishes, she rises and leaves, on her way to the small community’s high school on the edge of town.

***

She could have chosen to look at all the things that have been taken from her, but she chose to have faith in something greater than her sorrows. And, from that, she was able to lift her head and live on, for the sake of those she had lost.

When she told me about all this, I was surprised and asked her what God told her all those years to help her get past such a difficult ordeal. And, with a simple smile, she replied, “Well, it was a still small voice that rose into a symphony of love written especially for me.” With that, she laughed and took a sip of the coffee that sat between us.

“The Library”

Two looming towering doors, stretched as high as the eye can see, though the eye that sees is contained within the small skull of that of a human.  Two of which belong to the human, that is.  Wider than the arms lengths of the human, the doors seem impossible to open, beyond the sturdiest material that time and weather seem unable to leave neither trace nor evidence of existence on the doors.  No handles or knobs are visible, and no way to open nor close that which stands before me.  Yes, I am the human that stands before the two doors, which exclude me from the treasures and secrets of that which lies beyond these doors.  A foreboding presence leaves me gasping and panting, the desire to enter and see what it was that laid enclosed overwhelmed me.  And so, as I lifted a hand to touch the door, it opened.

 

A figure greeted me.  Note, I named this being a ‘figure’ due to the strange apparel and lack of form it possessed.  It wasn’t light nor smell that perceived it’s aura, but more a strange tingle that ran through my body, from head to toe, like the sensation one feels when nails scrape against a chalk board.  But it bowed, nonetheless, and spoke in a way where the voice entered my mind.  “Greetings,” it said, “I will be assisting you today.  You may call me the Librarian.”  Looking past the Librarian, I noticed row upon row of shelves, all of which were covered and overflowing with volumes that seemed to run out of space.  “Follow me and I will show you all there is to see,” the Librarian adds, ushering me in, towards the center of the building. 

 

I followed the Librarian, for it seemed wise and as soon as I stepped past the doors, they closed behind me.  A resounding thud only I seemed to hear, but the Librarian made no reaction to the sound, and as if able to read my thoughts, the Librarian replied, “It is quite rare for someone so young, as you, would come to seek knowledge here.  It is most common for great thinkers and the elder philosophers to come in and look for reference.  If there is a specific topic you’re looking for, I will be able to help you better.”  There is a moment where my mind seems to be taken off guard by the books that whispered all around me, though non coherent, but all quite strong in their desire to be taken off the shelves.  “No?  Well then, we can go through them all, if you like,” the Librarian offers and begins to lead me away again, this time, I follow at a slight distance.  There is no need to hurry in this place, for it seemed that time didn’t exist.  Nothing was solid.

 

“Here is where you can find references on love, all the romances and great love stories in history are published in this section,” the Librarian comments, breaking through my reverie.  I turn to look up as thick volumes chatter happily and sweetly above me, their comments and desires like pink puffs of smoke, dancing above, around, through, and beneath me.  Instead of the smoke being the intangible, it seemed as if I were what it was to me.  It tried to grab me, to take hold of me and reel me in, but it caught nothing.  “Open one, if you wish.  Let me know if it fits what you’re looking for,” the Librarian suggests.  And so, taking the Librarian’s advice, I reach out and take one off of the bookshelf.  The weight surprised me, for it were as if picking up a child, and holding them in my arms.  And when I opened the book, the smoke became a tangible rope that locked my hands to the covers.  And as I looked onto the page, the words jumped out at me, becoming a voice that shook me to the core, narrating in a booming voice of a tales of tails and water’s asunder bringing lighting and thunder all around me.  And as I felt the nauseating sensation of disgust, the Librarian joined me, peering into the book.  “A tale of a young woman who befriends an overly hairy lion, yes, a classic in the World of the Fallen.”

 

I close the book, willing all my might as I do so, and when the book is closed, the rope that bound me, which had also burned me, released me and became smoke, once again, floating around, as if trying to catch me.  But I replace the volume onto the shelf and notice the inscription on the binding, familiarity catches my eye and the Librarian adds, “Yes, in the World of the Fallen, ‘Beauty and the Beast’ is quite popular, is it not?”  As we continue, I notice more and more titles which reminds me of my younger years, spent in front of the television, mesmerized by the figures on the screen, giving me temporary delight, filling my head with dreams and setting me up for the crushing blow of reality in the years to come.  But as I passed that section, the Librarian stops again.  The books that lay before me are old and ragged, their covers old and unused by the looks of it.  “This is the Biography of the Living, one of the rarest collections and still going, as you can see, new volumes arrive every day, and the section is rarely quite.”  Thud.

 

I look up and watch as thousands of books fall from an overhead something.  Being too high and out of my line of vision, all I see are books that fall from above, towards me.  And as I reach up to cover my head, they stop before reaching me.  And in an instant, the shelves rearrange themselves, many moving to make room as other volumes with new titles enter the collection.  For the new issues of older volumes, they seem to simply slide into where the old volumes sat, pushing the older volumes back, though to where, I knew not.  “It’s a simple system and works quite well.  But always is being updated, thus, we shall move on,” the Librarian adds, continuing down another path.  And I followed, amazed by the unending shower of books.

 

A small light catches my eye and I stop.  Turning towards the light, I follow it, unsure of what may befall me once I reached its source.  But when I reached it, I noticed it was meant to light up a small switch that remained “off”.  And, impulsively, I flipped the switch and lights from above, showered sight before me and the world took color and form, though not in the way I saw things outside of this building.  And as I looked up, I noticed a sign.  Before I could finish reading it, the Librarian, from behind, read and explained it to me.  “Wall of Religion, yes that is a popular topic.  Ranging from all different ideas, thinkings, rituals, ceremonies, cultures, and so forth.  Yes, this is the most visited section of this library.”

 

Ah, I see.  I was in a library.  My eyes traveled along the shelves, noting the strange carvings on some books, unable to differentiate the meanings and differences between the books that sat before me.  The Librarian, begins to move, and so I follow.  “We have collected all of the religions pertaining to the World of the Fallen.  From Wicca to Buddhism, Animism to Muslim, we have it all.  Here, the volumes are complete and constantly being updated, for all on the outside of these walls, still are restricted to time, and time has a way of thwarting and warping past traditions.”  And, as the books had fallen in the Biography aisle, once in a while, a book would fall and be filed away under the category in which it belonged.  And this happened time and time again. 

 

I felt a chuckle as I watched books fluttering into the sections marked, “Catholocism”, “Muslim”, and “Buddhism”, but found my focus locked on a section where no books fell, in fact, looked quite out of place.  Compared to the books that fluttered to the other sections, this one was old and, seemingly, untouched.  The letters on the binding were gold, and as I neared, I knew what it read before reading it.  “Ah yes,” the Librarian comments, noting my attention, “the Bible.  That one is one of the least popular books in this library.”

 

“Why?” I ask, unable to stop the word that bubbled to the surface of my mind.

 

The Librarian hesitates for a moment before replying, “Because it never changes.”  The Librarian motions to the fluttering books and rows of bookshelves, continuing, “Despite it being the foundation by which all the other books were created, as soon as one thing is subtracted, added, or changed, it becomes something else.  But the Bible, that is the only book in this library that never needs to be updated, for it never changes.”

 

My eyes focus on the single book in the library that is the least popular and I find myself yearning to pull it from the shelf and hold it close to my chest.  The only book that offers warmth and comfort, and stability. 

 

“I’m sorry, but the library must close now,” the Librarian states and leads me to the door.

 

“Can I come back tomorrow?” I ask, my thoughts swimming as a new excitement pulses through me.

 

“Possibly,” the Librarian replies, “though I haven’t discovered what you were looking for.”

 

I stop at the door, looking out to see nothing, but turning back to see everything.  “I want to come back tomorrow,” I state, my eyes becoming clearer, despite the fading of the overhead light from within the building. 

 

The Librarian replies, “Why do you find the need to travel so far to seek that which is always with you?  Perhaps it is why humans spend most of their lives wasted on what doesn’t matter when what really matters has been with them, calling to them, the entire time?”

 

“What?  What’s always with me?” I ask, now, unable to see anything but the Librarian, which stands before me, and I, a mere silhouette in the doorway.

 

The Librarian replies, “All the answers you seek are at your fingertips, and you insist on taking the long way to figure things out.  You may be in the image of the Supervisor, but you’re a long way off from the way He thinks.”

 

“Who?” I ask, unable to step forward, for my feet seem locked to their place.  The doorway around me appears to back up, passing me, as I, incapable of moving, try to stop it. 

 

Alas, my efforts are futile and I watch as the doors are, once again, in front of me, slowly swinging shut.  “Open your eyes and take hold of the dreams He gave you.  Don’t waste another moment, child.  Maranatha!” the Librarian adds as the doors shut, closing me out.  Blocking me from the wonders and treasures that lay within, on the other side of the door.  But I am powerless to open the door, and so, I relent, remaining standing where I had been standing.  The Librarian’s reply, the last words I hear, echo in my mind.

 

‘My eyes are open, but nothing lies at my fingertips,’ I think to myself.  But as I reach into my backpack, which had been on my back the entire time, I am surprised though, not, to pull out my compact Bible.  The very object of my fascination moments earlier that offered me everything I sought had been with me the entire time.  And yet, I was thankful to see the library and speak with the Librarian, but decided to not visit again any time soon, for I had all I needed with me.  And forever, it will be.

SLAVE Of fears…

I am a slave of fears…
Hopes, doubts, desires, and more…
From the darkness of hate, my joy rears
A new taste of happiness, but what for?
Nothing can erase your words of disapproval
Your expressions of lies that sing of my removal
Praise me and love me, through your easy facade
As if I could forget the words in private that purged me
The very people, those close to me, did praise me
But I know now it was only a lie, it wasn’t what it seemed to be.

I am a slave of fears…
How DARE you treat me like your toy?!
Passed around to please each little girl or boy
Are my arms moving well, can you see me spin?
As you raise me up, you actually plot my murder within…
As each line I write, a new hope or feeling emerges,
And as it reaches light, it’s thrown to the ground,
By your lies and words, it doesn’t stand a chance…
And so it dies and disappears without another sound.

I am a slave of fears…
I read what I ought not to have read…
The tears in my eyes were real…
I saw what I ought not to have seen…
There is no way I can truly express the pain I feel…
Those I thought loved me, only sought to push me away…
Those I respected, only crumbled me up and threw me away…
And because of them… I built my walls in my head…
Because of them… I became a prisoner of words unsaid…
Because of them… I bowed my head, returning to my corner…
Acknowledging defeat and returning to the former…
Quiet, hush now, don’t cry,
I try.

I am a SLAVE of fears!
And it is because of all those who see, but REFUSE TO HEAR! 
Lock me away in your memories…
Forget the tenderness and be at ease…
Don’t mind me as I disintegrate…
Carving my way into my hate…
…
It just takes a word, a letter, a poem, a song,
To heal the destruction you’ve caused by your wrong…
But I won’t tell you, my reason is clear…
Because of you and your ideas; 
I AM A SLAVE OF FEARS!!

And now, I am alone, as I wipe away my tears…

***

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

wake up. (10 commandments)

fully expressed… 10 to 1…

don’t look and lust after the life of another, comparing your own selfishness to theirs, in turn, asking for more of which you do not need nor should you seek…

don’t tell stories because you think your life is boring, or you seek to entertain that which hadn’t any need in the beginning, which plunges you even further away from my favor and ways…

don’t feel the ability nor right to take all you please, thinking i would turn a blind eye on you, thinking i cannot SEE that which i saw from the beginning and still chose to call you mine…

don’t lie with your tongue about lying with someone else’s soul mate, it don’t matter whether it was voluntary nor forced… after the deed is done, there is no returning the part of the soul in which you stole…

don’t, ever, think you have the right to take which i gave you so easily and freely… a gift, the simple gift of life i created and crated into each container, pulling out my pen, i wrote out accomplishments, plans, and victories, and yet, you steal it from mankind by taking what you want with what you have, which is what i, also, wrote for you…

don’t talk back or fight with the authority i placed over you… if you choose to rebel against that which i prayed and breathed into existence to help and educate your young mind, why should i continue to give they way i do, even now?

don’t tell me you were too busy to do what i did on the 7th day of the first week of life… that you had too much on your mind and it slipped from memory, for it is just as easy for you to slip from my memory, and yet, i work hard to remember you, because of the love i have for you that you vowed to me, though live through none of it daily… 

don’t seek me, telling me your desires and complaints and as i turn to you to solve your problems, back out and brush me aside… every time you call out my name, the only holy  name ever in all time, i find a string of profanity cradling my very essence, because you ‘accidentally’ let it slip out, again…

don’t make nor break anything that which you may hold above me… i held you and above all else, loved you, my creation, and yet, you thank me by serving and bowing to what i gave you, in hopes of gaining your favor… you chose to crucify the righteousness gained through a selfless act, dirtying yourself with the slave names of the sinners…

don’t laugh with the wicked, ally with the wicked, and return to my side, asking for, yet, another chance to prove your loyalty to me.  when your breath is rank with filth, your skin caked with poison, i offered you, time and time again, another chance… and you’ve returned to the enemy, time and time again… always to bounce between the two…

 

i know your path… i wrote it… but i gave you choice… and now, as you walk your path, separate from me… know this… “it is by choice, i gave life… and by choice, i take it.” you do not control your destiny… you cannot control where your destination is… you only control the steering wheel of that vehicle… i control the road and the final destination.  BECAUSE I AM THAT I AM.

 

~ a holy revelation… from God… to me. ~