I think one of the greatest nagging fears of every Christian has to be the end of the world. Ever since Jesus left the earth, Christians have been trying to rush him back with a passionate fervor. I’m currently looking at a webpage called “220 Dates for The End of the World.” From what I’m seeing, people have been hailing in the end times from 44 A.D. all the way to the current 2010 A.D…and every time we predicted it, we’ve been wrong. I believe the biblical scripture, “no man shall know the day nor the hour that the son of man shall come…” just as much as any Christian, but I will bet my left front tooth that that day is NOT December 21, 2012. Sure, a common thread of many Christians is that we’ve all dreaded the day of the rapture since our childhoods. Not because we didn’t believe we’d be taken, but because, in that moment, we lose our humanity. We become totally spiritually oriented from that point forward. Earthly interests disintegrate. We all succumb to the larger context that surrounds us. The impending battle of Armageddon. I feel like fearing that moment is the most human emotion there is. Even more human than love, because in that moment, the moment of the rapture, as selfish as it sounds, the universe according to us ceases to revolve around us. It is the most solemn moment that will ever be for humanity. It’s when everything becomes real. Living in a real-life horror movie. Facing the unveiled namesakes of our nightmares and watching the entire universe succumb to a script recited so many times in thoughts, so many nights in dreams, so many ways in emotions. I think almost every Christian today can sit and reel through the caverns of his or her mind and fall back into remembrance of that dream. The dream that we’ve all secretly had. The one that constantly haunts our subconscious mind and makes us wonder every morning if ‘today is the day.’ I would venture to say that that same dream has been floating through the minds of believers since 44 A.D. It’s the force that causes us all to believe that we are living in the end times. I believe that one of the causes of our obsession is the fact that we actually desire the arrival of this cataclysm. We secretly enjoy the adrenaline rush of this epic disaster scene. Add that to the belief of most that Christians will be spared from enduring these sorrows and it all becomes clear. We get to lay safely on celestial cloud smack dab in the middle of the greatest atrocities mankind has ever seen and we don’t have to suffer at all?? Who wouldn’t want to speed the storyline? It’s basically like going to the gladiatorial arena. We aren’t gonna be chased by lions. No one’s out to get us. We get to sit in the stands. Of course we’re excited to go! But as for me…somehow, someway, I just don’t think it all will be that easy. There’s gonna be a catch. There always is…
« rockstar complex
So, today, I kinda feel amazing. It’s crazy, I mean, my entire self esteem has inexplicably skyrocketed since starting college–maybe it’s the excessive male attention, but I’ve always had that…oh, excuse me, it’s the HOT male attention :). Actually, I think all of that is more of an effect than a cause of my mad self love affair. I also had my first full body massage today, which I must say, was mind-blowing, and to be honest, I’ve been all kinds of loopy ever since I left the massage studio. I’ve been eating multicolored twizzlers and totally chilling like a mother effing villain all day long. 🙂 Anywho, I just feel pretty much invincible right now. I’m cranking up my ipod to Drake’s song “Fancy” and sitting in the dorm room. I just feel amazing. I’ve always felt like a rockstar inside, but I felt like my awesomeness didnt translate to other people like it should have. Now, it’s not only palpable that I’m incredible; it’s visible, tangible, it’s sensed, not intuited. I think that’s all I really ever wanted. I just wanted everyone to get it. Some people–actually, a lot of people already did, but I’m that kind of person who ignores the fact that hundreds of people love them and obsesses over that one who seems oblivious or averse to me and I become compelled to win them over. It’s sort of an annoying compulsion, but I need to not only be liked, but loved by everyone. It creates problems sometimes, because even though I feel innately special and need to be liked, I’m not a doormat. I’m really forceful sometimes when it comes to getting what I want, and sometimes that ruthlessness rubs people the wrong way and they become offended. Actually, what I’ve found, is that, with a lot of people, is that if you don’t consistently bend to their will, they become offended. This force of will sometimes causes people to dislike me–also the fact that I often don’t mince words doesn’t help. My sharp tongue gets me in hot water as well from time to time. I’m sworn to only use it for good. I’m usually verbally assassinating people because of some political or social freedom that I perceive them to be abusing. I’m not some crazy douchebag. I’m actually ridiculously nice. I just have a low bullshit tolerance…and a rockstar complex.
apocalypse now?? »« achieving ma’at
A strange mantra that has seemed to repeat itself for the past few days has been: “everything is as it should be.” Now, i’m usually a perfectionist, always improving, always striving for better, but somehow, some way, this phrase resonates with me. I keep hearing it everywhere so it obviously has some hidden meaning that I need to adhere to. I think it has meaning that we all need to adhere to. We need to let go of all the “could have beens, should have knowns, and would have dones.” We need to be gratefully dead to the past and take advantage of the present because it is a gift. We are, in each and every moment of our lives, exactly where we need to be to accomplish the things that only we can do. I believe Albert Einstein once said, there are two types of people in this world; one who believes that everything is a miracle, and one who believes nothing is a miracle. I don’t know about you, but I need something to believe in, and option number one sounds pretty damn palatable…Anyway, on to ma’at. Ma’at is an ancient Egyptian term used to describe a state of perfect harmony that all the ancient Egyptian kings strived to acquire during the periods in which they reigned. I’m not in Egypt, and I’m definitely not a king, but I know that we could all use a little extra serving of ma’at consciousness in our lives from time to time.
rockstar complex »« death.burial.resurrection.
Wow…it’s been a while….I’m actually happy though, because I found this blog again. I’ve thought about attempting to continue this thing, but now I’m back, and maybe this blog’s name should be changed, because I’m not attempting continuity anymore, I’m accomplishing it. It may have taken me a year and some change, but sometimes time needs to pass to put us in the place we need to be to do what needs to be done. I’ve learned that I can’t be afraid of waiting, afraid of throwing situations into the air like a coin toss because I’m afraid I might land “tails”. As long as my head is to the sky, then i’m landing on my feet, and I’ll put one foot in front of the other, while the chips fall where they may. We often bend over backwards to control people and situations because we don’t have faith in the universe. We think that God and the entire cosmos are out to get us. We live in constant paranoia of some long forgotten karmic debt that must be paid by experiencing the worst possible scenarios throughout our lives. We don’t realize that the universe isn’t against us, and it’s not for us either, for that matter. It simply is. We can either follow its flow or we can resist it. (I’ll elaborate on this further in my next post. I really need to get back on topic :/) If you want to have power, if you want to be happy, if you want to own your soul, you have to let go. You have to trust yourself and the universe, and be fully engrossed in the present moment…Anyways, enough of this stuff. On to the topic, “death.burial.resurrection”. A lot of me has died in this past year, most of which, I don’t want back and I’d rather forget, but on a lighter note, a considerably cooler person has definitely emerged from the ashes of an examined life. Ironically enough, I’m wearing my limited edition “Grateful Dead” converse sneakers. I guess it fits in with the context seeing as how I am gratefully dead to the past (even though it occasionally haunts like a phantom; but at least it doesnt steal away my present, like a thief on christmas eve :D). But all Fall Out Boy-esque puns aside, this blog has a lot of meaning for me. I have a lot of profound crap floating around in my head, and I’ve been searching for an outlet for my self-help psychobabble and general musings on the dramas of life. I just needed somewhere I could go all “Dr. Phil” and at the same time spew out whatever other craziness I wanted to without censorship…and then, I found the blog again!! Ding ding ding!!! Resurrected fun may now resume. 🙂
achieving ma’at »« famous last words
(This is gonna be a short blog, unlike my other ones; it’s just to give closure, basically.) So here it is, the last full day of WJMC. I’ve been deprived from sleep for 4 days and I have a seriously intense cramp in my right calf muscle. Despite the inhumane schedule (lol) I’ve actually had a good time though, and met some amazing people. I learned so much about journalism and have become considerably more media savvy in the process. I think my enjoyment of this program was mainly because I lucked out in a lot of ways. I had the greatest group ever–group 7!!! (lightning/thunder or whatever our name is). I also had the greatest group advisor–T Py!!! I had awesome roommates and I feel really blessed because I could’ve had a suckish time with a bunch of weirdos and losers, but I think most people will agree that this was a fun experience and we got to explore parts of ourselves that we’ve never known before. But like the panel guy said today, we all rock at life and will continue to do that in all our hometowns across the country. Because of our collective awesomeness, I feel grateful for attending the WJMC.
death.burial.resurrection. »« from rhetoric to “real talk”
So, today at the lovely WJMC, we (the conference attendees) went to the Washington D.C. Newseum. I had never heard of this “newseum” but like any good journalist, I was curious. During the commute to the Newseum, I heard some comments about the “September 11th” exhibit. There was a lot of discussion about the emotion of the exhibit (which entailed a short film and World Trade Center antenna mast). Now, as usual, I digress. On the day of the 9-11 attack, I, like most of my peers, was in the fourth grade. Being at a predominantly African-American elementary school where anti-patriotism sentiment was high (byproduct of racism), I was quite oblivious to the effects of this attack upon our country. I saw the people in my suburban White neighborhood staking flags in their front yards, sporting the infamous “we will not forget” bumper stickers, and on the television, the “band of brothers in America” type of pick-me up advertisement meant to reel in Americans from wallowing in their well of sorrows. Last year, I pondered the concept of the annual 9-11 mopefest. This thought process was brought on by a 9-11 recollection assignment by our blatantly Republican AP History teacher. Since this topic was given during election season in Southern suburbia, race relations were sure to have been demolished by the time we started writing. I was frustrated with the ocurrences around me and the attitudes of my peers. I was angry at America, the South, Republicans, anyone who disagreed with me. In my paper, I wrote that I empathised with the victims of 9-11, but I did not feel as if this attack concerned me because I did not consider myself to truly be an American citizen. I viewed the attack as Malcolm X said, “America’s chickens coming home to roost.” I found it karmically justified that “white america” was in distress. I believed that Americans were not moping and crying and being “melodramatic” because of a huge tragedy in our nation, but because for once in our history since gaining independence, America was the oppressed, not the oppressor. I saw the attack as America’s reaping of the hate and injustice it had sown against minorities. I believe that what I wrote was right, even now. Insensitive, yes, but undeniably accurate. However, when I visited the D.C. Newseum, I watched the video and saw the exhibit that everyone kept raving about. It was the most moving thing I have ever experienced in my life. It brought me to tears. There was so much raw emotion in the faces of the victims and bystanders. I saw the real victims, crying real tears, feeling real pain. It reminded me that September 11th wasn’t about race. It wasn’t about black or white, because even if a person was green with pink polka dots, if they were in a certain part of those buildings, they died that day. The terrorists didnt go through a list to check ethnicity before they bombed us. They crashed into all of us that day. Sitting in that movie room at the exhibit, I felt more American than i ever have in my life. All of us cried. We all were affected because sitting there, we all knew that there was no justifiable reason for these people to lose their lives, hopes, and families while we only sat and watched.
famous last words »« Who the hell am I??!!
Cabrini Fears. Yes, unfortunately that is my name. I live in a small town called Pleasant Grove, which is ironic because, quite plainly, it sucks. But I digress. I’m probably what you would call the quintessential “journalist prototype.” I’m a phoenomenal writer with a charmingly sardonic wit and a tendency to push the proverbial envelope when it comes to societal rules and comfort zones. I’m a bit unconventional, ok, I lied, I’m very unconventional. I’m practically the political left-wing fantasy, so to speak. Yet beneath that laissez faire persona, lurks a hardcore rule freak. If I were a blow pop, I’d have a “Keith Olbermann” shell with an “Ann Coulter” center, and of course, a so stereotypically “watermelon” flavor. (There’s no hidden nugget of political symbolism there, it’s just my favorite flavor). I believe that people should have the right to make their own life decisions and express their individuality without the interference of empathy-deficient people. I also believe that as a whole society should effectuate their obligations and commit to excellence in all endeavors. I believe that in the world of employment and commerce, dignified diligence is paramount. But ok, enough of that idealistic rhetoric crap. I’m currently having a blog party with my suite-mates Hayley and Jess. I’m pretty normal on the surface…I had to say that, because I know some of you, out there are thinking that im a pompous, pretentious, weirdo who just uses big words to seem “smart.” But I’m really like this. I have reason to be. It’s the life I lead… So don’t judge me. Because you don’t know my life, and if you did, you would pray for me. I sometimes think God specifically created my life as an ode to satire…
from rhetoric to “real talk” »
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