Segullah

unimportant things that i think are important.

[segullah]

can't buy me love

why can’t i buy into the right kind of love? why is it so easy to attach myself to the self-help-take-care-of-you mantras when my creator told me that the last will be first and the first last? why do i have to constantly fight against my natural state, which is thinking about what i like and what will make me happy and how i can make my life better when i should strive to die to myself? if this pattern continues then i will finish my life rooted in a lifestyle that is no happier, no more loving and even more selfish than when i started.  is the modern woman, with belief that she can have it all, more evolved or just more self-absorbed? is the idea of servant love antiquated or just too hard? is the idea that an unhappy spouse has the right to leave and search for a better fit “fair” or convenient? and if we are to lose ourselves for the sake of others, then how far does that reach? how much loss is required? what about my identity? what about what i want? what about what makes me happy and fulfilled and worthy? did jesus really know the secret? did he know that despite our natural bent toward self-indulgence that true joy comes from the surrender? he made me, so i assume he knows how awesome i am and how much i have to offer. but maybe the good news is that i don’t actually have anything worthy to hold up. maybe it is fair to lose ourselves because we don’t own us anyway. is jesus tricking us by giving us gifts and talents and desires only to ask us to give them back to him or is he just trying to help us not waste what we have on ourselves? 

[segullah]

whatever i have, whatever i hold, there's nothing compares to having You close. true intimacy is my desire. to catch Your whispers, to carry Your fire. You're my ambition, my destination. more than living, more than breathing, You're the reason my heart's beating. there's nothing greater than knowing You. You unlock my joy, You waken my soul. forever i'm Yours, forever You're mine. a wonderful truth that You are my life. You're my ambition, my soul's true mission. so i'm giving, freely yielding, You're the reason my heart's beating. there's nothing greater than knowing You.

rend collective experiment

[segullah]

"for beautiful eyes, look for the good in others. for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness. and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone."

audrey hepburn

[segullah]

grading scales.

apparently there are two grading scales for a woman. the single one. and the married one. there are two standards we females are measured against and spoiler alert: the single one is higher. married women are not expected to be attractive, interesting, willing to volunteer, or fun. they don’t have to be any of those things. they’re married. single women, however have nothing to fall back on. those girls have something to prove. they better be hot and have a really awesome life and a super career because what else do they have? they’re not married. i don’t know who exactly is responsible for this disparity, but i know it only gets worse as we age. the older a single girl is, the more she has to justify. and singles, don’t think you can buck the system. it’s not worth the risk. because, after all, isn’t the reason you fight to stay awesome so someone will marry you?

[segullah]

you're not small. you're beautiful. 

[segullah]

ok first of all, let’s not insult “folk” by putting it into such a tiny box. how many of the most influential folk bands of the 60’s and 70’s fit the description chang gives? and our generation is all about genre mixing. lecrae raps about jesus, why can’t mumford sing about existentialism while picking the banjo?

chang’s lyrics references were kind of hilarious. i would have been more likely to laugh and be on board had he quoted all the lyrics correctly, but i see where he’s going, and i like it.

anyone who knows me well has heard me say that mumford and sons is my favorite band. that being said, i too have criticized the sons for stringing together a bunch of epic one-liners without ever actually saying anything (my exact words a few days ago; i think this chang guy read my mind).  but for the most part that criticism is overshadowed by how good it feels to shout out those weird lyrics and how satisfied i feel at the end of each climactic number.

i have decided that “where are you now” is my favorite song on the new album. it is the only one that stays truly slow for the entirety of the song, and it’s the only one i can completely understand and relate to.  however, i do think it’s ok that the sons offer up these open-ended questions and musings without ever giving an actual resolution. the only thing worse than offering no answer to the hard questions is offering one. i don’t need four british men, whom i’ve never met and are no older than me to tell me the meaning to life and the answer to tricky relationships.

i agree that this album is regressive. instead of making themselves more diverse, the sons just took the one thing they know how to do and repeated it 12 times on one album. the recordings may be slicker and more layered, but their talent is no more defined.

because “the carpenter” came out so near to “babel,” i inevitably compare the two albums. mumford is nowhere near the level of the avetts. two totally separate categories. i don’t think in real life the sons seem to take themselves too seriously, but their music doesn’t leave any room for humor or self-deprecation. an interview might show them to be humble and silly, but there is nothing light-hearted about their music. again, take a page from the avett’s book and write a ridiculous song about being embarrassed about being seen in your swimming trunks and my level of admiration and devotion will increase ten-fold.

and likening the sons to muse just makes me like them more. muse is the shiz.

re:modern praise music. i have never fallen for the repetitive, emotional praise style. i find it boring and i’m constantly wondering when the song will end, and i can’t seem to even remember what the beginning of the song sounded like. that happens with mumford too. the beginning and the end of each song don’t have a connection. i start a song and then by the end i am in a different song. however, i am more willing to let a key change and a kick drum manipulate me when the music is not intended to be spiritual. i won’t let a banjo conjure up the holy spirit, but i will let it move me to stamp my foot and turn up my car stereo and drown out the life going on outside my windows because that life doesn’t make any more sense than mumford and sons’ lyrics. and i’m okay with that. 

[segullah]

it doesn't get any better than this.

[segullah]

dear russell brand

dear russell,

i’m writing to you with no hope of you reading this. am i crazy? definitely less than you. if there is a scale. i’m not in love with you or obsessed with you, actually i just feel like we’re friends. me thinking i’m friends with a famous person i’ve never met is weird, but given that i’ve read all about your life, adventures (misadventures), feelings and sexual encounters, i think it’s ok. i know more about who you are than i know about the majority of the people i have actually met. i guess i’m a fan. but friend is a more fitting label. i think about conversations we would have if we hung out (am i veering over the always ambiguous line between sane and crazy?). i root for you. i like you. i think you’re really smart and funny and aware. i figure if we met, based on your two booky wooks, you would try to sleep with me. not because i’m great, but because i’m female. we wouldn’t sleep together, but we would laugh and talk about life. i saw you on the olympics (you did great!), and i cheered for you. i thought you probably felt even if the whole thing was a little manic and garish, which is what i thought, it’s the olympics! and in your country, celebrating all that is british! and there you were! singing beatles songs! and i saw liam gallagher perform and wondered if you hate him because you and noel are buddies. and kate moss was there, was that awkward? i can’t imagine there was a small back-stage area given there were roughly one trillion performers, so maybe you didn’t see each other. these are things friends think about. are you convinced? i just rented three morrissey albums from my library today because of the emails he wrote to you and because you think he’s so great. i know most of the world thinks you’re ridiculous and bawdy, but because i’ve had the privilege of reading your side of so many of your life events and i see the way you care about people and just want to make everyone laugh, i think you’re pretty okay. so, you wanna hang out?

love,

chelsea

[segullah]

separatists.

i’m reading this magazine. i’m sitting in panera by myself looking at these gorgeous photographs, these touchably beautiful people, reading these perfect articles. often these sorts of journals or pictures or blogs inspire me to do more or read more or just be better, but today i wondered if i’m actually worse off for exposing myself to these things. i started to feel like my outfit wasn’t so original and my meal wasn’t so organic. my hair wasn’t so cute and maybe my apartment should look different and my refrigerator should contain something far better. i read about these two women drinking some exotic coffee prepared at some exact temperature and served in a precise manner. my first thought was, “i should try harder to drink nicer things.” my second thought was, “will these women ever be satisfied at starbucks or okay with visiting a friend who is not such an aficionado?” when i read about some perfect and intentional market in portland i wanted to visit there and buy only those things, but then i immediately went to meijer and bought whatever brand was cheapest. i like nice things. i like intentionality. but at what point does a person become picky, fickle, uptight and dissatisfied with anything but the best and most perfect? if i decide drinking out of mason jars is nice, will i still enjoy a drink out of a plastic cup? if i decide a certain type of food is superior, will i still be a gracious dinner guest? when my life becomes different and by my standards better, will i begin to look down on those who don’t share my passions? will i be able to be at all normal and assimilated or will i continue to separate myself further and further from the middle until i sit too far to the outside? when i finally reach this life i aspire to (which i am certain will be never), will i be even slightly happier? 

[segullah]

how deep the Father's love for us, how vast beyond all measure. that He should give His only Son to make a wretch His treasure. how great the pain of searing loss, the Father turns His face away as wounds which mar the chosen One bring many sons to glory. behold the Man upon a cross, my sin upon His shoulders, ashamed i hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers. it was my sin that left Him there until it was accomplished. His dying breath has brought me life; i know that it is finished. i will not boast in anything, no gifts, no power, no wisdom. but i will boast in Jesus Christ, His death and resurrection. why should i gain from His reward? i cannot give an answer. but this i know with all my heart: His wounds have paid my ransom.

[segullah]

watch this movie. 

[segullah]

how?

[segullah]

"don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical; don't edit your own soul according to the fashion. rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.”

[segullah]

this movie killed me. why do i watch movies like this when i know i will either hate them or they'll make me sob. or both. 

[segullah]

girl porn.

today i read an article in the wall street journal about how the popularity and accessibility of “romantica” or “erotica” novels is growing with women everywhere due to the privacy of e-readers. i don’t have a kindle or anything of the like, but i can admit there are a few books that i am reading or have read that i wouldn’t be too proud to parade in public places like a coffee shop or an airport. but when i read this article and started thinking about these women and the effects these types of stories, or fantasy worlds have on their daily lives, i was very upset.

i will start by saying i’ve never actually read one of these bodice-rippers, but we’ve all seen them at drug stores or tucked away in a dusty corner of a respectable book seller. we know the fabio-type man with a greasy 6-pack violently embracing the long-haired, scantily clad damsel and all that that implies. but now it’s even easier to ignore a good conscience because e-readers are doing away with the shameful walk to the cashier or the judgmental looks at starbucks. there was one account in this article of a 41-year-old married mother who reads 10 to 15 books a week, half of them erotic, and has had her 10-year-old daughter nick name her kindle “mommy’s naughty reader.” this actually sickens me.

this isn’t about me riding a moral high horse or getting on a tangent about how technology is the downfall of society, but instead i feel genuine sadness and concern for the well-being of women like this one. how can filling a mind with so much sex not spill over into other areas of life? i don’t believe that these women don’t dabble in or are not completely consumed by fantasy-laden masturbation, totally over-sexualized minds and thoughts, marital sexual issues, pornography, and at worst, adultery. one novel discussed in this article, “tempted,” was said to be about a “happily married women” who is drawn into a relationship with her husband’s best friend, and the sequel, “naked,” is the account of the affair from the male’s perspective. EXCUSE ME. this is the smut married women are reading while their kids are napping?! and this is more acceptable than men watching hard-core porn all day? the poor husbands of these wives. the unfortunate daughters of these women.

it shouldn’t take social accountability to keep women from reading books of this nature, but it seems without it, many will quickly become completely consumed. and the fall-out, however subtle, however misdirected, will be far-reaching and devastating.

[segullah]

"how's that brick layin' comin'?"

[tarjeiholms]