Change

No matter how hard and painful change is, there is always that one small prospect of a new beginning in the future, and I think that's what gives us hope and makes us feel brave when change comes.

I had to get this down in writing before I forgot it.

MelANcholy.

MelANcholy. EmphAsis on the wrong sylAbols. -Krystina Brown

Random thoughts; ever collected shards of shell from the sand? You get so concentrated and focused, and no matter how similar each piece of shell looks, each is just as precious. What with the blues, blacks, purples, pearls and pinks... You go to so much care, even to get the smallest shards. But they are all beautiful.

What if each shard was a human heart? All of us lost amidst the grains of sand...

What if Jesus was the shell shard collector? I think I like that idea...

"Radio... bleed me a melody."

Alright... Let's Try and Get This Going Again..

I haven't been on this in sooooo long! =[ I am sorry. I am going to do my best to start writing again. Lately I've had a lot of thoughts on various things...

Just as a random update to get this going; The necklace which this blog was named after is broken and the bird is lost. In January as I was running to get something it snapped... I managed to gather up some beads, but I couldn't find the bird. I was and still am sad...

I'm back in Action!

Hey guys!

Right, so I was just at a lot of different places/camps, and when we got home, we didn't have internet for like, more than a week. So, now I have internet (Hurrah!) and I can start updating stuff again.

I've made a change to that story I was writing. Major change #1: It's changing from 1st person narration [ie. I did this, and I did that] to.... I spontaneously forgot the word but it's basically she did this and she did that. (bahaha) So that might just be a teensy-weensy bit confusing.

That was the major change. Now I've begun writing the long story, not the version I had to submit for school. HOPEFULLY I can finish this one up after starting it (highly unlikely, but hey, we'll see). I've already written the prologue. So, here's the prologue. =D

*Little note, this can very much be changed because I might decide to do so because I realized something didn't work out, or something needs to be edited, or whatever.

It was around five in the morning, and a shadow flitted across the street. Nobody was really awake at this time; most working adults would still have around an hour before they got up for work, and the teenagers and children who got up for school with them. Frost covered the ground around, and it was nigh on the time that snow would begin to fall; the clouds were pregnant with rain waiting to tumble and turn into light flakes. The light was only just beginning to creep up on the horizon of the crisp world, and the sky was like the pale pallor of a bad bruise; indigo mixed with blue.

It was the perfect time to kill someone.

Only the victim would be up at this time. Still used to the farm life he’d grown up and worked on for many years, the old man named George Mason would be up getting his breakfast and reading his latest novel he’d borrowed from the library. It would be just another morning in his life out in the suburbs near the big city. He wouldn’t expect anything.

George hummed a stuck-in-your-head jingle that he’d heard on a commercial the night before as he got coffee boiling in a pot and popped a piece of mint gum into his mouth. He leaned against the counter and looked out onto the peaceful world with bright brown eyes as he waited. His face was tanned, wrinkled, and weathered after years of life outdoors, but his head still had a lot of hair for an old man like him. Also contrary to his age, his hair still retained some color of the deep brown it used to be; now it was a pale beige with streaks of silver.

“Ah!” He remembered his CD player and reached into one of his sweater pocket and pulled the circular device and the carefully-kept earphones out. He’d just bought that new CD the day before, and remembered that he wanted to listen to it. If you’ve already got music in your head, George, why not fill it with something worthwhile? George thought to himself.

The song had been introduced and the singer had just begun to drawl out his first few verses when George dropped the CD player onto the floor and it stopped playing. He backed into the counter and clutched at anything he could find. He gasped when his fingers only found the burning coffee pot’s handle.

“No,” he said softly, his eyes full of fear. “Please, please, please, please no!”

The shadow that had slipped through the back door unnoticed looked at him with contempt. It was a man of medium height, strongly built and well muscled. His eyes glittered in the pale light. “You owe us, old man. And you never paid. We can’t let people like you go unnoticed.”

George’s heart thumped vigorously in his chest, and fear pumped nerve-wracking adrenaline which he could do nothing with through his veins. His hands continued to fumble behind him on the counter and he started talking fast. “It was an accident that I saw what you all stole! I didn’t mean it! I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone either! Can’t you just leave me alone?”

The other glared at him. “And trust you? Unlikely. We trust no one. And since you haven’t payed up-”

George’s voice rose to a shrill squeak, “I’ve told you, I haven’t got that much to give you!”

“-and since you have payed up,” the thug continued with ferocity, “we have to get rid of you.” He looked up at George with dead and merciless eyes; eyes that were used to cruel things and terrifying scenes. Unfeeling eyes. He then pulled out a gun with a silencer from his belt, and began to load it.

George’s heart leapt to his throat, and he reached for the coffee pot. Burned fingers are better than dying, George, he thought to himself, and he grabbed the searing handle and flung the pot and its contents at the killer. The pot flew into the thug’s face and much of the burning coffee splashed over his face and body. The man cursed violently and screamed at the same time. He dropped his gun and stuffed his fists into his mouth to quiet himself.

George used the opportunity to run. He didn’t get much further than past the kitchen doorway, however. A split-second after he heard a muffled bang, a searing pain ran up from his Achilles' heel to the rest of his right leg. George gasped and tumbled; all attempts at escaping were now thwarted. The adrenaline still ran through him though, and he began to try and drag himself across the floor towards the open back door.

The soft steps of the killer slowly followed him through the doorway of the kitchen. With dread and fear weighing heavily down on him, George stopped dragging himself and whimpered. As he turned to look at the thug he realized that he was sobbing. “Please,” he whispered.

The thug just looked at him with even more hatred than before; the skin on his face and hands a bright red from the coffee. His eyes were bright and black, and he held the gun straight out before him. He sneered as he said the second-last sentence George would hear.

“You’re gonna die, old man.”

George began to sob even more fervently and he feebly raised his hands in front of him. “Oh God,” he breathed out as he cried. “Oh God, oh God, oh God. Please, please, please, please, please...”

The thug stepped up to George and lowered the nozzle of the gun to the center of the old man’s head. George’s eyelids fluttered as he almost fainted. “God can’t save you now, old man,” the thug spat ferociously.

And with a muffled staccato crack, he pulled the trigger.

An hour later, unseen to the world, the body of George Mason lay near the sidewalk with his CD player lying beside him.

Continuing On! What is "Love"?!

Right, so what is it exactly, is my question? I'm continuing on from my last post. This is going to be what I think about it so far.

So, I posted my other post (haha that sounds weird) to facebook, and I asked the opinion of many friends on what they thought "Love" is. There were a lot of "um"s and "well"s, but here are the quoted answers (without the names of who actually said them).

There a lot of things that commonly came up, and I'll group the ones that were common together:

Love is wanting the best for someone, willing to do whatever for them, and wanting to be with them no matter what the costs:

1. "Um, I think that it is always wanting the best for someone. Or like always doing what will help them even if it hurts you. It sounds cliche but I know what I’m trying to say."

2. "-True love= true sacrifice.

-Accepting everything in the person, good and bad

-To always want happiness for the person. Nothing but happiness and to do whatever it takes to achieve that

-Trust and loyalty

-Understanding

3. "Um well basically when you would be willing to go out of your way for someone when you would try to find a way to see them even if it's not likely and (next part for guys) be willing to accept the person and care for them and do all the above even if they aren't the most attractive- and if they are it's a bonus."

4. "Personally, I think that love is when you would do or give anything for them to live happy lives, whether you suffer of not."

5. "Love is wanting to be with someone and willing to deal with anything that might occur no matter what. Love is total trust and loyalty towards someone... love is truly always having good intentions for someone. Love is doing anything for someone in any situation..."

Love is 1 Corinthians 3:

6. "You can always use 1 Corinthians 13: 1-13."

Love is Sacrifice:

7. "Love is putting someone above yourself, to do anything for them without once thinking what's in it for you."

8. "As I see it love, is everything (# 5) described but doing what is best for them is the biggest part of love with sacrifice- so sometimes not being with someone can be more loving then being with them if it is for their better good."

Love is Change (get ready for some pretty big head-thumping theology):

9. "I'll say love is change. and the reason is as follows:

When someone truly loves someone, and that someone loves him/her back, he/she changes the partner (not as in choosing someone else to love, but changing the components of a person, if you guys know what I mean), as well as himself/herself being changed. A crush, or one-sided love, is the saddest love because one side is being changed while the other side isn't. As humanity cannot escape their fate of change, love is changing to someone as he/she changes to you. When the couple has reached the mutual point, that's when the marriage happens.

Now, my definition seems to be in contrast with God's love, as God can't change. But, we need to remember that humanity and God were already lovers. Everything was 'good' in the garden, however, it was humanity who turned away from the love. God needed not to change, because God created humanity at such mutual point, in which humanity decided to fall. Christ coming down to earth was call from God for humanity to return to the mutual point, back when they were 'lovers'. I think this is best portrayed in Ted Dekker's Circle series, in the Great Romance. Love is a two-way street, and God already played his part: its humanity who needs to play their part."

Love is something God gave to men:

10. "I think love is something that God has created and given to men and women. If it is a Godly relationship then God will give the true, selfless, undying love to those two people. (1 Corinthians 13)."

Love is a mix of the things said, but you're still not satisfied with what you think it is right now:

11. "One thing I have figured out. Things God made are pretty much impossible to understand completely, but we should always strive to find out as much as we can about them.

So back to LOVE.

I see it as no matter what happens you will never give up on someone. You will never leave them or reject them. You will always try to keep to 1 Cor. 13:1-13. And always try to be there. And that is what I have found, although it just doesn't quite satisfy me. I'm going to keep looking."

And last, but certainly not least, 12.

"I think love is sacrifice. I think it's selflessly giving what you have, all that you have, for other people. Giving your gifts, your talents, your time, your EVERYTHING. Giving up what you want, your own dreams, for the sake of others.

I haven't really come to a complete conclusion, but at the moment this is the conclusion that I've come to."

Ba-boom bam. I wanted to get this post up before I leave the internet for a week, so that I can get responses while I'm gone. Here are some questions that a person had too:

9. "Reading through the [quotes], I just had a question in my mind: Love or justice? In other words, when you are in a situation in which either you have to abandon your love in order for things to get right, or choose to preserve your lover and let justice slip by, which will you choose?"

THAT is a question that I think I will take the time to answer a LOT later, as it doesn't have so much to do with all of the other stuff I'm thinking about/asking at the moment.

Another thing to think about: Any of you know the song "How He Loves"?? If not, the lyrics are in right in this link: go read 'em. The reason I'm putting them in the link is so that this post isn't humongously long and I don't bore you with something huge to read.

Okay nevermind, I'm going to give you something huge to read. This is a Christian song, for those who don't know. Lyrics:

"Verse 1:

He is jealous for me,

Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,

Bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy.

When all of a sudden,

I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,

And I realise just how beautiful You are,

And how great Your affections are for me.

Pre-Chorus:

And oh, how He loves us so,

Oh how He loves us,

How He loves us all

Chorus 1:

Yeah, He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves.

Yeah, He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves.

Verse 2:

We are His portion and He is our prize,

Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,

If grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.

So Heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss,

And my heart turns violently inside of my chest,

I don’t have time to maintain these regrets,

When I think about, the way…

Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com

Chorus 2:

He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us,

Oh how He loves.

Yeah, He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves.

Verse 3:

Well, I thought about You the day Stephen died,

And You met me between my breaking.

I know that I still love You, God, despite the agony.

...They want to tell me You're cruel,

But if Stephen could sing, he'd say it's not true, cause...

Chorus 3:

Cause He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us.

Whoa! how He loves us.

Whoa! how He loves.

Yeah, He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves us,

Whoa! how He loves."

Right, I won't talk about that song right now, but I just wanted to have it up there. However, thanks to a friend, I learned the story behind this song and what John Mark McMillan is singing about in his song. If you want to see the vid for the story, here's the link for it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NXWE6AC8ao

Anyways, John says this one part in the video that caught my attention:

“The love I am singing in that song is not a pretty clean, it’s not a hollywood hot pink love. It’s a kind of love that is willing to love things that are messy, and willing to love the difficult, and sort-of um, y’know kind of gross kind of things. That’s really the kind of song I wanted to write, it’s through this frustrating period He could, in my anger and in my resentment and in my frustration he could still love me through that.. and in this process of dealing with my buddy dying he could love me through that; he wasn’t offended at the fact that I was angry at God. This song is in celebration of weakness and anger, this is in celebration of a God who would want to hang and be apart of those things and despite who we are he would want to be apart of us and want to be apart of our community. And that’s the kind of love I think I’m talking about.”

Another thing I'm putting up here: 1 Corinthians 13. I know that some of you aren't Christian, but here it is because this is what a lot of us are discussing in our "What is Love?" discussion.

1 Corinthians 13: “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I AM NOTHING. If I give all I posses to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is PATIENT, love is KIND. It DOES NOT ENVY, it DOES NOT BOAST, it IS NOT PROUD. It IS NOT RUDE, it IS NOT SELF-SEEKING, it IS NOT EASILY ANGERED, it KEEPS NO RECORD OF WRONGS. Love DOES NOT DELIGHT IN EVIL but REJOICES WITH THE TRUTH. It ALWAYS PROTECTS, ALWAYS TRUSTS, ALWAYS HOPES, ALWAYS PERSEVERES. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

One last quote to put up here real quick. I kind of forgot who said it, but he's some author that wrote "How I Kissed Dating Good bye" or something similar to that. Also a Christian author.

“True love isn’t just expressed in passionately whispered words or an intimate kiss or an embrace; before two people are married, love is expressed through self-control, patience, even words left unsaid...” Some of you might not agree with that, but I just stuck it up here.

OKAY! So that was a lot of random stuff jumbled together! But now you're going to get my organized(ish) thoughts. And questions.

So, I personally agree that Love is 1 Corinthians 13. If you noticed, I made a lot of parts in caps, and one part really big and bold. I won't do any explaining on that part, I think it's pretty evident that I agree and believe in those parts. Love is 1 Corinthians 13. You can agree with me, or you can not agree with me. That's my thought.

My main question is this; Are there different kinds of love for different kinds of people you love? Or is it all different components of the one big sha-bang called Love?

Just do add another complication to the equation: What about all that "loving your enemy" stuff? And "love your neighbor as yourself"?

“Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires” Is this a DIFFERENT kind of love? Or is it one part of it in the big equation?

I'm going to leave it at this right now. I need some more thunking time.

That Little but not-so-little Thing called Love... What's that all About?

So what is love? Is it the physical attraction to someone? Is it the funny tummy butterflies you get when you see that guy when he gets that really cute new hair cut? Is it her eyes? Is that "Crushcrushcrush" that Paramore sings about?

What is love?

In a Ted Dekker's book Saint, a three characters go back and forth about how power comes from belief, and belief from love. But what is love?

"Love," Johnny said. He pushed himself to his feet, inspired by the notion that Samuel had hit upon something.

"Love," Samuel repeated. "Do you believe?"

"That would mean I don't really love Kelly at all. I need her comfort and I need someone to comfort so that I feel useful, but that's not true love. I don't love her at all."

Samuel's eyes flitted to Kelly.

"No, I do love her," Johnny said. "I do love you. And even if I don't, I want to more than anything, because you're the world to me. But what if Samuel's right and I'm really loving you for my own sake? That's not real love, right?"

"Do any of us really love?" she demanded. "This kind of talk can only conclude that there is no love in the world!"

Eventually after their conversation continues, it ends with this:

"Focus instead on love. True love. Selfless love in your heart." (Samuel)

"How?" (Johnny).

So is true love selfless love? What is true love? I've already eliminated all of the possibilities of that I listed at the top; it's definitely not any of those. What is it?

Maybe you disagree with me, but I can't help but think it's something WAY bigger than any of us can imagine. Love isn't the stuff of the movies, or of a lot of different books out there. Love isn't the stuff of highschool gossip, nor of the affairs that, unfortunately, many adults have. I think that once we get past that little blip of information right there, a lot of us struggle to figure out what love actually is.

I also think that Love is really simple, but it's just mind boggling because of how simple it is.

So what is love?

Part 2 of the Unnamed Short Story!

Here it is!

Asher, McMahone and I went back to the FBI building after making sure that the dead man was carted off properly and all possible pieces of evidence were taken away. McMahone and Asher sat in the front, while I sat in the back looking out the window. The streets surrounding the large, glass FBI building include some small streets, and the busy main street on which the building was situated on. Cars constantly zoom back and forth past the hospital, library, and other various large buildings, and the slight smell of gasoline is always present.

We pulled into the parking spot, and got out of the car. We got up into the FBI office, and I slowly began to make my way through the many small cubicles in the center room, each a house to a computer and desk. As Asher and I parted ways with McMahone, he told us to meet in one of the few big meeting rooms in the building.

“Five minutes,” he told us. “Then we’ll talk about this morning.”

We nodded, and Asher followed me to my cubicle by the window. He flicked his blond hair out of his eyes and leant against my desk as I sat down and crossed my legs thoughtfully. “So,” he said while looking out over the cubicles and speaking in a southern accent. “Whaddaya reckon partner?”

I shook my head and gazed thoughtfully at the name plate on my desk. FBI Agent Leah Fallows. “I don’t think that I’m the mood for that right now, Asher.”

“Geez, lighten up,” he said with a mock hurt expression. “At least humor me. This is the way I deal with the depressing stuff I work with.”

“The depressing stuff we all work with,” I corrected. I then looked up at him and used my southern accent. “I reckon that some mighty strange happenings are a-comin’.”

Asher let out a chuckle and shook his head. “Your cowboy accent is terrible, Leah.”

“Not my fault; I don’t watch cowboy movies all day like you do. And, at least I tried!”

Asher chuckled again, but then his usually smiling face turned suddenly serious and troubled. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Mighty strange happenings are a-comin’.” There was a small pause of thoughtful silence, then he then turned to me, his eyes sparkling once again with mischief. “I think that’s what Agent Wisher was thinking too, y’know?”

I rolled my eyes. “Please, Asher. Not now.”

“When you walked over while we were all talking? You had Mr. Smarty-pants practically screaming at you with his eyes to give him some attention. And you just left him lying there like a fish outta water, poor fellow.”

“Come on, Asher! You know that guy bothers the heck out of me! Plus, anyways, he isn’t my type.”

Asher looked at me curiously with his playful puppy-dog eyes. “So who is? You guys are practically made for each other, what with your seriousness and frowny-faces.”

While I felt some heat rise on the back of my neck, I diverted him from the question. “What? I can’t be as serious as the old scholar stuck in a twenty-year-old’s body, can I?”

With a chortle, Asher stood up straight and nodded in the direction of the meeting room. “No, I guess not.”

We walked to the meeting room, where McMahone was already waiting with a few other of our research agents, and his large hands folded on the table. He glanced up at us when we walked in. “Right, we can begin now. Fallows, Declan, I’ll give them a quick debrief and then we’ll all start talking.”

The large black man rumbled to the other agents in the room about what we’d seen this morning. Sarah, a small and petite brunette nodded thoughtfully while he talked, Mahmoud the immigrated Egyptian frowned darkly while he sat straight, and Xu just gazed into outer space with his almond-shaped eyes. Once McMahone was done, they all nodded and shifted in their seats.

“So,” Xu Lieng said, looking around the table. “The man was killed outside? I don’t see how that works; when you found him it didn’t seem like he had been out in the cold for long.”

“I don’t think he was killed outside,” McMahone said.

“He must have been killed inside somewhere, and then somebody dragged him out,” Sarah mumbled thoughtfully. “But why-”

“Would somebody drag him outside?” Mahmoud El-Dien completed in his Americanized Arab accent. “That is strange.”

We all thought for a few moments, and then Asher spoke up. “Maybe somebody wanted him to be found?”

I shook my head, not understanding. “But why would they do that? When murdering someone, wouldn’t the murder want to keep it a secret? That’s assuming that this is not a serial killer.”

“That’s also assuming that the person who dragged him from wherever he was killed in the first place is the killer himself,” Xu said, pointing his finger at me.

McMahone snapped his head into the direction of the Asian. “You’re thinking that whoever dragged the old man from wherever he was killed wasn’t the killer himself?”

We all gazed at Xu while he shrugged. “I’m thinking through all the possibilities.” We all sat in silence for a while again, thinking. Sarah began to speak slowly. “Well... what Xu’s saying would make sense- with the CD player I mean. Once again, if we’re assuming this isn’t a serial killer, why would a normal murderer leave a recording of screams behind?”

“So someone dragged the old guy from wherever he was killed, left him out in plain sight for practically everyone to see, and left a recording of screams- possibly the man’s own screams- by the body,” Asher said. He looked up at us from his twiddling thumbs. “Why?”

“The million dollar question,” Mahmoud mumbled.

McMahone looked at all of us questionably. “You’ve all ruled out the possibility of a serial killer. Why’s that?”

“This isn’t the way serial killers kill,” Xu said with a twitch of his nose. “They’re usually careful and calculated. They tend not to chose to strangle as their method of cutting off life either, because strangling a person is something that has to have some strong personal or emotional connection between the perpetrator and the victim. We all know that not only does a person who strangles require great strength, but they also require great psychological and mental strength. Serial killers tend to be distant from their victims because if they went killing everyone they knew, someone would eventually connect the dots and figure out who they are. Also, many times the victims of serial killers are chosen at random. This old man was not chosen at random.”

McMahone nodded, impressed. “Alright. So we rule out the possibility of a serial killer. That does leave us with Declan’s question; why would an individual drag the body of a murdered person out into broad daylight and leave a screaming recording beside him?”

That’s when it snapped into place for me. I excitedly put my hands on the table and stood up. “‘Into broad daylight’ you said!” They all looked at me, confused. I lightly thumped my fist on the table and elaborated. “The old man was found in broad daylight, practically where everyone could see him! Billboards are left in broad daylight for everyone to see, and so are road signs. What do they do? They make a point! Somebody is making a point with the body of this dead man and the CD player!”

I looked around at them with excitement. Asher, McMahone, and Mahmoud frowned thoughtfully, and Xu was looking at his hands with an interest, but Sarah looked up at me with a glint in her eye, and she impatiently pushed her short hair out of her face. “Somebody is making a statement.”

I nodded, and looked around the table. Xu was now smiling at me, and he asked. “So what’s the statement?”

I shrugged, and sat back down again. “I guess we’ll have to figure that out, huh?”