Execration.

The stupid thing about swear words is that we try to sound cooler by sounding offensive. We take normal, non-offensive, pedestrian, civilian and society-friendly words; take bother, for example, and screw it around enough till it becomes so offensive that we were once shunned to even think of the word.
Can't be bothered. Eh, sounds too... Polite.
Can't be stuffed. Mmm... could do with some working on. Stuffed is used fairly loosely. Refers to pretty much any existent noun nameable. Or unnameable in this matter.
Can't be _. You know it.
Why? It's so.. weird.
And yet now, swearing is our second nature. How ironic.
It's as if swear words were our way of expression. Through tone, pitch, volume... the harshness of a single word can be multiplied three-fold.

*sigh* If only the lips of my mind could be sealed shut forever, for they carry zip but profanity and anchors of depression. Sealed off. Unheard, unwanted. Unnecessary.

LOL, Sarah.
This is my second post in the span of 10 minutes. How strange.

6:00AM.

Good evening and good morning, I suppose for the late sleepers and early risers. Tally ho, it's Sarah DO!
Assuring you that I am delirious. Awake and delirious.

---
You're an entertainer. You provide people with brain-teasers with solutions so simple they even yourself. You delude people into thinking that you're some sort of mysterious, wonderful magician, whose true name must not be known! But of course, who cares for real names? Anonymity is your key, for one.
Just like a clown, you can juggle. Juggling all sorts of things: knives, flaming arrows, or just the usual hacky sacks... as long as it's balanced.
One hand must hold half the weight of what was in the air... if you're balancing three.
If you drop one, keep your face exposed. Make sure it seems like it was what you were meant to do. After all, you're on thin ice. Almost literally. Even a second's loss of momentum will send you down the drain.
At least it's a dam. You won't be stuck there for long. People come looking for you. They'll seek you out and tell you of what an idiot you are to have been doing so many things at once. But that's the idea. You entertain. You balance.
And if you can't, well you've just lost your life.

---
I only wish that during this hour I could manipulate such cold and rigid thoughts in such a manner that pleases the eye and enlightens the mind; I wanted to write a triangular prism of glass which overturns into a dazzling rainbow of colour. So simple, isn't it? And yet somehow, your heartstrings are tugged at, and your mind begins at work. Careful though, we don't want to exhaust that brain so much as to ruin the rest of the day now, do we?
But still... not even just an inkling of inspiration? A drop? A mere trickle down this dried up river?
Well anyway.

I don't know what I'm doing. I've lost sight of my road. Where, do I suppose, is this chapter meant to be leading me?

I don't, I know, I'm screwed.

LOL, Sarah.

Seminary Donuts.

Two things you should know before reading this:
1. I didn't write it; I'm sorry but all I have to say is sad stuff, and I don't want to say sad stuff. Not myself at the moment.
2. Try and read it. It's worth the read.

There was a boy by the name of Steve who was attending Seminary in Utah. In this Seminary, classes are held during school hours.

Brother Christianson taught Seminary at this particular school. He had an open-door policy and would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve had been kicked out of his sixth period and no other teacher wanted him, so he went into Brother Christianson's Seminary class.

Steve was told that he could not be late, so he arrived just seconds before the bell rang and he would sit in the very back of the room. He would also be the first to leave after the class was over.

One day, Brother Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him. After class, Bro. Christianson pulled Steve aside and said, "You think you're pretty tough, don't you?"

Steve's answer was, "Yeah, I do."

Then Brother Christianson asked, "How many push-ups can you do?"

Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."

"200? That's pretty good, Steve," Brother Christianson said. "Do you think you could do 300?"

Steve replied, "I don't know... I've never done 300 at a time."

"Do you think you could?" asked Brother Christianson again.

"Well, I can try," said Steve.

"Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I need you to do 300 in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it," Brother Christianson said.

Steve said, "Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it."

Brother Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday."

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room.

When class started, Brother Christianson pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these weren't the normal kinds of donuts, they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited-it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend.

Bro. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked,

"Cynthia, do you want a donut?"

Cynthia said, "Yes."

Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut?"

Steve said, "Sure," and jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk. Bro. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk.

Bro. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe do you want a donut?"

Joe said, "Yes."

Bro. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?"

Steve did ten push-ups; Joe got a donut.

And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten pushups for every person before they got their donut. And down the second aisle, till Bro. Christianson came to Scott.

Scott was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship. When Bro. Christianson asked, "Scott do you want a donut?" Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own pushups?"

Bro. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them."

Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then."

Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?"

Steve started to do ten pushups.

Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!"

Bro. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it." And he put a donut on Scott's desk.

Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow. Bro. Christianson started down the third row. Now the students were beginning to get a little angry.

Bro. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut?"

Jenny said, "No."

Then Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?"

Steve did ten; Jenny got a donut.

By now, the students were beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks. Steve was also having to really put forth a lot of effort to get these pushups done for each donut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved.

Bro. Christianson asked Robert to watch Steve to make sure he did ten pushups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. So Robert began to watch Steve closely.

Bro. Christianson started down the fourth row. During his class, however, some students had wandered in and sat along the heaters along the sides of the room. When Bro. Christianson realized this; he did a quick count and saw 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.

Bro. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Steve asked Bro. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?"

Bro. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your pushups. You can do them any way that you want." And Bro. Christianson went on.

A few moments later, Jason came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled, "NO! Don't come in! Stay out!"

Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come."

Bro. Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten pushups for him."

Steve said, "Yes, let him come in."

Bro. Christianson said, "Okay, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a donut?"

"Yes."

"Steve, will you do ten pushups so that Jason can have a donut?"

Steve did ten pushups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.

Bro. Christianson finished the fourth row, then started on those seated on the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each pushup in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was dropping off of his face and, by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two girls in the room were cheerleaders and very popular. Bro. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut?

Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."

Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want?"

Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda.

Then Bro. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a donut?"

Susan, with tears flowing down her face, asked, "Bro. Christianson , can I help him?"

Bro. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, he has to do it alone. Steve, would you do ten pushups so Susan can have a donut?"

As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him, and he fell to the floor.

Brother Christianson turned to the room and said. "And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, plead to the Father, "Into thy hands I commend my Spirit." With the understanding that He had done everything that was required of Him, he collapsed on the cross and died. And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten."

LOL, Sarah.

Auscultate Narcissism.

Listen.
Everyone's talking.
Loudly.
It's a battle of voices.
Everyone wants to be heard.

No one wants to listen.
Just heard.
Or they will say something...
To make way for them to say more.

But what of the listeners?
Do their ears bleed in silence, whilst profanity rests on their tongue as they keep their mouths shut?

Their hearts are too full of others, and there is no one to speak to.
No one but themselves.
Their hearts break from the burden of everyone's cries...
And the weight of their own voices.

And they are left. Alone and shattered, with no one to hear them.

LOL, Sarah.

Destitute Discourse.

Photographer: Phillip Le. (:
There's one of the sky that I like x]: not good but still!

---
The air was crisp and fresh as the wind cooed softly, melodiously swirling the loose hairs from my head in motion with its murmurs. Faint steps were carried with the wind as we plodded our way down the wooden deck; it stretched out into the black waters, which lapped against the pillars in utmost harmony, and radiated with reflected the pastel lights of the scene above it. Boats heaved to and fro in sync with each other, and their lights bounced off the waters like swarms of variously coloured fireflies at twilight hour.

We'd settled down at a comfortable spot near the end of the pier, and bubbles of conversation burst from various corners of the odd circle we'd placed ourselves in. I inhaled slowly, and exhaled again as I refrained from conversation... the two beside me had their focus turned elsewhere anyway. I listened to the wood creak slightly as I eased myself onto the deck, and I opened my eyes to the blanket of sky in the middle of the night.

The stars were as scattered as I'd felt; they were shrouded by a lumpy mist that stretched across the sky, much like the texture of an untouched desert, where shallow crevices paralleled each other over dunes of parched sands. The stars were the tiny diamonds of the barren plains of the sky. They glimmered ever so elegantly... it instantaneously reminded me of a rare quote I'd found in a friend's going away autography book: good friends are like stars. You can't always see them, but they're always there...

I felt your presence beside me as I listened to the soft swishing of the water beneath me, imagining its pathways, encircling the pillars which drank from a neverending source of salty replenishment. The wooden deck ached until you spread yourself evenly between the planks, exhaling softly as you rested your head on the wood. Your camera fell and rose on your chest to your momentous breathing, until you lifted it daintily to your face, pointing its lens to the starry night.

"I'm too tired to talk..." I strained my voice in the most sincerest hope that you wouldn't take it the wrong way... that I was far too emotionally and physically drained to make some decent conversation with you, despite my obvious longing to. You said nothing, and continued to take pictures of the cloudy night.

Even then, I'd started a conversation. I'd wanted to talk, despite my empty barrel, once filled with so many words at the beginning of the week... I'm empty, and yet I still let droplets of phrases escape my lips.

LOL, Sarah.
Been a while since I posted something like this.. a story. (:

PS: I still miss you interstaters dearly... RCV from Adelaide... A from Perth...

Cloudy Sunshine.

BESTFRIENDILOVEYOU.

---
Amy... I'd rather be an introvert then.


why are you still everywhere i turn? as if you were hail, biting at my skin, even if i find shelter, your coldness snaps at my toes as i struggle to hide away in the ebbing warmth of a dark corner of concrete. i would crouch so hard that my ribs would break as i become a ball squeezed into an even smaller cube, as if i could be compressed; my flesh filled every gap, and bones would shatter to create flexibility...

7 months on and i still miss you. what the hell is wrong with me?

argh, i don't want to think about this anymore.

---
I have something good for tomorrow!

LOL, Sarah.

NYR's.

New Year's Resolutions:
To let the people I love know that they're loved...
And to try harder so that I won't lose any more relationships unless it's really time to go.

I realised today that I'm not an introvert... although nor am I an extrovert. There is a hefty weight on each side that balances me between two polarities, each from time to time dipping dangerously deeper to the left... sometimes to the right. Weights have begun to shift towards the favourable end, and the pole with which the weights once were held unswervingly has fallen to a slant.
Unstable. Insecure. Breakable.

It's simply between me and who I should be... and I have found myself at a crossroads in my personality. Which road can I take?

---
Spongebob:
What do you usually do when I’m gone?

Patrick:

Wait for you to come back.

Naw...!

LOL, Sarah.

Binary Countanance.

Hello italics, do you remember the post on Sunday, May 17th, 2009? Well, It seems that whatever that meant, I still haven't shaken it. I have just distracted myself from it... And now I'm just scared.

... No, you've been erased.

Maybe you wouldn't know that I'm an excellent introvert. I have some cunning in being able to hide away the darker corners of my mind. Perhaps I am too deep of an ocean, too scary for anyone to explore, and far too cold for anyone to comfortably dive through.

Enough of this.

---
I strode across the front hallway towards the hall of the sanctuary, and my first sights were immediately turned towards the right side; black dots bounced off every spurt of colour, slumped forwards with contrasts of various material: velvet, silk, cotton...
The right side of the church was absolutely packed with people, sleepy Christians whose beds were indicative of the mess of the corridor and the smaller rooms within the building.
A smile flickered across my face as I watched sleepy faces turn about and lips slur words so seemingly incomprehensible. A few cracks of laughter burst here and then, but the overall murmur sounded like soft pellets of rain on the deck late at night.
I would have taken my seat by a few friends I'd normally spoken to, but there were no seats to my avail. I smiled at the thought, and proceeded to greet everyone I'd fell in love with.

This twice-a-year tradition struck me as memorable, as feeble as it seemed; that somehow we'd become so full that we absolutely had to be sent out... And just so, we dispersed.

---
My heart has become too full of fake words and deceitful lies that you've fed me. I only wish I could give you more than what you've taken, but you seem to be ignorant of something deep, and all you want to know is to feel loved.
So does everyone else.
So do I.
But I don't ask it. I only accept it, because I already know it deep inside my heart. Despite all these overused thrashes of phrases so innocent and seemingly heartwarming. Besides all that, I know they care for me.
I don't need to hear it.
I wish I didn't need to hear it more.
But this is for you anyway, because you need it.
I miss you.

LOL, Sarah.
Don't just say you miss me and never talk to me again. Don't lie to me like that.

A Dedication.

LOL, Sarah.

Come Back...?

i mit you ban.

---
As much as my body willed me to let them go, I refused to let the tears escape from my eyes. Memories flooded over my pupils; I envisioned each and every face; the smiles and laughter fellowship brought, the scrunched noses as they stretched out of their comfort zones to the adventurous unknown of other interstaters, the twinkles in their eyes as they waved each other goodbye...

These tears filmed my eyes, and I stifled a cough, a choke of sadness as these memories resounded throughout the walls of my reminiscent heart. These instances reminded me of my prior anxiety/panic attacks due to stress... but this one rung deeper.
A different emotion surfaced.
Not stress nor worry.
Not pain nor sadness.
Only that secret joy of the greatest memoirs of a lifetime...
And only memories to keep it afresh.

I miss you all.

LOL, Sarah.

Consiliated Replenishment.

I am so broken.

---
Luke 9:12-17 (NIV)

¹²Late in the afternoon the Twelve came to him and said, "Send the crowd away so they can go to the surrounding villages and countryside and find food and lodging, because we are in a remote place here."

¹³He replied, "You give them something to eat."

They answered, "We have only five loaves of bread and two fish—unless we go and buy food for all this crowd." ¹⁴(About five thousand men were there.)

But he said to his disciples, "Have them sit down in groups of about fifty each." ¹⁵The disciples did so, and everybody sat down. ¹⁶Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke them. Then he gave them to the disciples to set before the people. ¹⁷They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over.

---
Just a few points within this passage that resonate to me.

- We fall short in that we think we are unable to do something because of the things we don't have, when in fact, God presents us with the little we have so that only HE can multiply it to address the needs for many.

- Jesus would never force us to do His will, but He calls us. He knows what little we have, and when we fall short and doubt, He's stepping in with the little that we have surrendered to Him.

- God has blessed us upon multitudes, and He breaks us. We need to be decreased so that as bread, He increases in us so we can feed the thousands.

LOL, Sarah.
He replied, "If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it will obey you. Luke 17:6

New Directions.

Happy New Year all.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIS1O02t_cU

Just as a reminder.

LOL, Sarah.