whatever you like, james. whatever you like.

oh, i probably give him a much harder time than he deserves.

my past few weekends have been a conglomeration of a lot of things, most of which were medieval, dependent on trains, near the nature, and included some alcohol.












i even got some smiling for the camera; without need for prompting or begging. oh snap.

cesky krumlov might go on the list of favorite memories. and that's a pretty exclusive list.

oh be ay em ay comes to pea are ay gee you ee

so besides the usual niceties that a weekend with no school entails, there was some unusual excitement over a certain someone coming into town.

first, however, the weather has been truly amazing these past few days, and has inspired drinking beer in parks and gardens overlooking the city of prague with happy friends. life seldom gets much better.

second, rachel's here! we realized that we hadn't seen each other in one year exactly. imagine that.


but really, other than these things, my friends and i did something this weekend involving:



and



and



and a whole lot of



and


that's right. barack obama came to town, and we woke up at 6am to see him speak.

don't worry. it was actually a great deal more fun than my friend on the far right would have you think. something about not liking being forced to smile, because that approach is clearly more effective/attractive than smiling.

thinking about it, i realize that it's not often that one has the opportunity to see the president speak in the flesh.

...except that one time for me in taiwan, but that's a longer and much more painful story altogether.

please don't go, please don't leave me.

you could stay a while longer
we could stay up and talk about last summer
we could go down to the water
watch the sunset going under
it's not that i'm a stranger to lonely moments
i've had my share of those

please don't go
please don't leave me alone
a mirror's so much harder to hold

i could try and point the finger
but the glass points in my direction
sure, you've got your sharp edges
but my wounds are from my own reflection
you've got nothing i could ever hold against you
i've got fatal flaws to call my own

please don't go
please don't leave me alone
a mirror's so much harder to hold

i met a man who's looking for perfection
said he'd never met a girl who's good enough
his eyes are getting old like they'd love to love again
such a lonely man
such a lonely man

i see him in my reflection
taking steps towards me these days
so i hold you that much closer
and pray we don't throw this away
it's not that i'm a man who couldn't love you
i know what these arms are for

please don't go
please don't leave me alone
a mirror's so much harder to hold
a mirror's so much harder to hold
please don't go
please don't leave me cold
a mirror's so much harder to hold
-jon foreman, "a mirror is harder to hold"



i think, when someone can confidently say this to me, i can probably stop looking.

this is spartaaa! no, really, where the f*** is sparta?

with this whole moving and traveling abroad these last few months, i have completely lost track of a few of my possessions. not my mouse ring, thank goodness, but obnoxious, random, and obnoxiously random things i just can't seem to locate. i think half the problem, however, is that i'm not sure which items are here with me and which ones i left in the flat in prague.

among the things that have been driving me mad are:
-my fisherman's pants from bangkok. they're hideous for anything beyond the beach, midnight snacks, lounging, or hangovers, but i think we've established that i grow attached to things i find during my travels. i've torn my closet apart, too. twice.
-my navel piercing. this has almost nothing to do with the object itself, but with the fact that i can't find it. i've looked everywhere i would put it, and while i've managed to uncover every possible button to every article of clothing i've ever owned, the ring is nowhere to be found.
-my diary. yes, that is never a good sign, but i'm mostly sure that it's in prague. it has crossed my mind that perhaps i decided to get clever about it and put it under a mattress or in my closet somewhere, but thus far, my searching has been in vain. and, my room's not that big.
-my spare-slash-ugly glasses, not to be confused with the fashionable, expensive ones that make me look more intelligent than i really am. i don't wear my good glasses while lying in bed watching a movie, though, so i'd love to know where the back-ups are. i'm also guessing that they're in prague. another grand leap of faith there.
-my 300 dvd that chad gave me for my 22nd birthday. it's not expensive or anything, but i do love that movie and chances are that my friends in prague would love it too. i've become an unofficial provider of movies... of sorts. given that it didn't cost me anything, it doesn't matter too much that i can't find it. except that i can't believe it's eluding me.

why is any of this so hard to find?


unrelatedly, today was 85 and sunny. i'm really going to miss california.

21.9 to 20.7

that's bmi talk for roughly 7 lbs., according to my wii fit, which is generally much meaner to me than i'd like. it's really good at pointing out just how lazy it thinks i am.

3 or 4 more would be fantastic. the >5km per day is truly doing wonders for how i feel about the impending summer season. and about going back to prague. thanks to my dad and extended family members, however, i have a major genetic deficit to overcome, and it all sits in one cursed region of my body. looming. watching. waiting for any opportunity to drink bubble tea or beer.

it's too bad my back sucks, but yoga is (sort of) repairing that situation. normally, i don't worry about this kind of thing, but after that night with the revelation that nothing i owned fit me anymore, i've had no desire to find myself in that place again. unless. you know... i'm pregnant or something, but still! since i'm out of work at the moment and so many other things are on hold, it's good to see this aspect of my life moving in a favorable direction.

do something good every day, take 2.

today, i managed to find something and didn't get injured in the process. it actually cost me something monetarily, however.

ah, well, 2 for 3.

why i struggle with church... in song form!

too bad i'm more guilty than i'd like to think.



I hate all your show and pretense
the hypocrisy of your praise
the hypocrisy of your festivals
I hate all your show

Away with your noisy worship
Away with your noisy hymns
I stop up my ears when your
singing ‘em
I hate all your show

Instead let there be a flood
of justice
An endless procession of righteous
living, living
Instead let there be a flood
of justice
Instead of a show

your eyes are closed when you’re praying
you sing right along with the band
you shine up your shoes for services
but there’s blood on your hands

you turned your back on the homeless
and the ones that don’t fit in your plans
quit playing religion games
there’s blood on your hands

Ah! let’s argue this out
if your sins are blood red
let’s argue this out
you’ll be white as the clouds
let’s argue this out
quit fooling around

give love to the ones who can’t love at all
give hope to the ones who got no hope at all
stand up for the ones who can’t stand at all
instead of a show
I hate all your show

-jon foreman, "instead of a show"


also, side note: 5 year anniversary of that day with the pavement and the almost-dying. yikes.

do (or try to do) something good every day.

or so the slogan at starbucks has been (mostly) telling me for a while now.

first, happy er-er-ba. last year at this time, i was buying pearls. and celebrating taiwanese progression. but mostly buying pearls. that was a good day.

a few things of note. i'm observing lent this year. i'm not catholic, but i think it's important to meditate on and then fast the things that we rely on too much. it's easy to be obstructed, or jaded, or complacent because we simply have more than we need. i seriously considered giving up three things this year: alcohol, facebook, and the office. alcohol, i felt, was really too simple. i hardly drink while i'm home, and by the time i get back to prague where i have a beer or so each day, lent will mostly be over. besides, those jews knew how to party back in the day. have you heard of those week-long weddings? not that this has much to do with catholicism in the 21st century, but if the question is WWJD, Jesus would have a beer. facebook was a possibility, but something that i consider a part of my everyday routine, and really, i tend to use it for good designs rather than evil ones. not that i have evil designs. much. and the office, well, i'm looking to rejuvenate some faithfulness, not immerse myself in misery. so facebook, it was. and despite how many times i tried to justify not giving up facebook to myself, i realized that i spend far too much time that could be devoted to something else. maybe to prayer, or to fasting, or to devotionals or study, but i'm not going to pretend that that's entirely what i had in mind. that's part of it, but the reality is that i was created for something purposeful and given far more opportunities to achieve it than most, and i don't think my purpose includes how much time i spend on facebook. surely, it includes other things, whatever they may be, and it's time to dwell on/search for those things. besides, the narcissism was getting overbearing. (narcissistic? me?)



as part of my attempt at more thoughtful and productive living, this week, i decided to donate blood. this was my first time, i've always wanted to, and i, quite literally, had nothing to do. i'd meant to ask my mom for the car, but i slept through my alarm and whatnot. so i donned some walking clothes and hiked the mile or two to my local target shopping center to find the blood mobile. even better than target, it was right in front of (and sponsored by) a starbucks. this made the whole waiting experience significantly more fun, since the good old american red cross was very backed up with donors that afternoon. but again, seriously, nothing better to do. after a latte or two and talking to the volunteers, i was led into the bus, the temperature in which, by the way, was commensurate with being on the surface of the sun, not in california in february. after rehashing all the places i'd been this past year, particularly where, EXACTLY, i went in china, they concluded that i probably didn't have malaria. i was then laid on a bed across from other horizontal people who were uncomfortably staring out windows or texting. to make the whole thing a little more pleasant, they gave us all starbucks vouchers, which i fully intended to use on the most expensive drink i could feasibly finish without gagging. this really doesn't go beyond a venti nonfat caramel macchiato with an extra shot, which isn't even that exciting. after the usual pleasantries (are there usual pleasantries in this kind of situation?), the nurse began the drawing procedure. She told me to squeeze a a stress ball, and that i would feel a pinch and a little pain. unfortunately, i felt more than a pinch and the pain didn't subside. and then i heard a "oh, that's not good," which is truly the last thing you ever want to hear when someone's sticking something into your body. or cutting something off. 12 and one, really. i subtly writhed for about a minute, when she told me that it wasn't going to work, and if we kept trying, i would have a massive bruise covering my entire arm. is seems that, when she was trying to put the needle into my vein, it compressed, and the needle went straight through and pierced the other side. by the time she'd corrected it, there was a second hole and bleeding on the tissue in my arm. a lot. within a few more minutes, the needle was out, and she was holding bandages and a cold pack on my arm. they made me sit there for another 20 minutes eating food and drinking juice because passing out was a possibility, and then i walked home again.

and it seems i somehow left that free starbucks voucher there.

more than 24 hours later, my arm now looks like this:

don't let it fool you. it hurts like hell. i can't actually fully straighten it.

i suppose that i should do something that risks less bodily injury the next time i do something good.
not that giving blood is risking much. i don't even mind needles! ask my 8 piercings! that with the 2 days of IV... man, i thought it was made for stuff like this.

the saga of my tortured relationship with london, part 542.

i'm good at traveling. yes, i know that this can mean a lot of things, but i've practiced and failed and learned... and in all, i feel that i can actually say i'm an accomplished, savvy traveler. even though my semester abroad was simply wrought with bad luck, the past few years abroad have gone by with little trouble at all. and in the course of all this, i've spent the majority of my time in very foreign cultures, all of which don't speak english. amazingly, my competence has helped produce some enjoyable and fun travel experiences in these places and little tragedy. sure, i crashed a scooter into a parked van in bali. and there was my pengyou that drove me to the great wall in china. he didn't speak any english, but damn did we have fun! and i'm not sure how safe that bus ride out of st. petersburg was, but you know... makes you stronger, they say.

yet london - damn you, london - somehow manages to twist fate, worldliness, and general dignity into something truly dreadful for me. everything i've learned gets whittled down into borderline incompetence while i'm there.

he told me that i was going to regret monday night when i had to fly into the london the next day, but i brushed it off. i was having way too much fun. and everything went mostly well in london, but it seems that the unlikelihood - nay - the more convenient something is, the more likely am to mess it up. it's generally small things like: trying to wire money to my roommates. or the automated machine in the tube eating my 10 quid for no apparent reason.

or the best of all - missing my trans-atlantic flight from terminal 5. granted, people, this is not due to the usual reasons one would miss a flight: irresponsibility. misreading the ticket. traffic. no, my friends, i missed a flight solely because of bureaucracy. some ridiculous 35 minute rule regarding security that was never explained to me when i checked in. i didn't even know that was possible, but leave it to me!

london, i have deemed you my favorite place in the entire world. you are the place where i would spend the rest of my life if i could... my reason for hoping i meet and marry a charming british man whose wit makes up for his awkwardness. or an ex-pat with a penchant for you and your ways.

really, we must stop doing this. i'm beginning to feel like i'm doing all the work in this relationship, and it can't go on forever. taipei never treated me this way, and i'm still giving you chances. i come back next month, on my way to praha. i'm begging you to be more welcoming this time around. stop eating my money and computers. stop allowing weird men to follow and harass me. and for the love of God, it'd be nice if i could make my flights. or at least have a little dignity intact. other countries give me that, why can't you?

this glass is for when you return.

this past week, i've been despairing over having to leave prague. the truth is, it's been a long while since i've been this happy. i realized that this month, i didn't spend any time thinking or dreaming or hoping to be anywhere else. just unadulterated contentment.

while sitting with my favorite people last night, we laughed about how ridiculous this whole program has been, and how rewarding it is to be at the end. it's hard to say what's going to happen, now that we're all getting new flats and new teaching jobs. and we won't be required to sit in the same room for 12 hours a day. i'll miss it, i must confess.

"joy, really, what are we going to do when you leave?" sammy asked. i didn't know how to respond. i was startled. i hadn't realized how hard it would be until i heard the sincerity behind his voice. "i don't know," was all that i could muster, "i suppose i'll be really lonely. you guys will be fine. i'm there in spirit."

things got a bit misty until sam mentioned 7 years in tibet, with the cup of tea that's symbolic of someone's return. mine would be a glass of wine, but i loved that they thought they'd leave one out to remember my spot. it's good to know that i have a spot, and that it will be vacant and waiting for me to come back in march.

i'm amazed by how lovely it is to make a family for yourself, thousands of miles from home.

if you're looking to be authoritative...

...apparently, you need to look at me.

for whatever reason, i kicked ass in my teaching practice session yesterday. no, i'm not exaggerating. i just had a really, truly good day. i tried to envision all my pupils as kids to alleviate my anxiety, though i may or may not have been patronizing. i sure hope not.

during our feedback session, my more timid classmates were told to use my tone as an example of gentle and respectful authority in the classroom.

i will say that that is the first time anyone has ever told me that... ever. actually, that was my single-largest problem in taiwan. not with the kindergartners, but definitely with that whole s4 dynamic. i'd eventually just come to accept it. and in general, i'm not good at telling people what to do. ask my starbucks co-workers, with the exception of the new people. ask my friends, my family. i'm far too blue-white to exude any sort of authority over anyone anytime, except, apparently, in the classroom.

can it be that i'm actually just plain good at this?

it's a bird. it's a plane. no, really, what is it?

over the years, i've developed quite a skill in detaching myself from the things i own. generally speaking, i can get over not having and/or losing most things. and when it comes to possessions, i try not to pick favorites, until i recently discovered how much i really care about one particular object.

a few weeks ago, i went into a frenzy because i thought i'd lost a ring. i dug through every piece of jewelry i own. i turned over every object on my desk (where i typically keep it) and called the restaurants i'd recently visited, all in vain. it wasn't for a few hours, after turning over a picture frame, that i realized that it had rolled behind the pictures on my desk. i could have sworn i'd looked there before, but i think God knows that i would have cried. really cried. real tears. if i'd lost it. i chalk that one up to a miracle. the ring itself isn't worth much. i probably only spent a few dollars on it at a market in bangkok. and while i've bought a great deal of jewelry - most of it meaningless - at various markets all over the world, i was drawn to the uniqueness of this jeweler's particular design. i asked him about himself; he was turkish, had recently moved from istanbul, and had hoped to spread his design around as much as he could, particularly to foreigners (europeans, americans...) he even gave me a business card, which i promptly lost in typical "me" fashion.

the funny thing about this ring, too, is that it seems to inspire a lot of theories about what it resembles. every time i look at it, i see a mouse. my mother, however, sees grapevines. since my brother also sees a mouse, they have started to refer to it as "joy's mouse." please note, they call my nose piercing a "bug" and for a while referred to me as "bug-nose." either way, it always inspires commentary and questions from people around me. when i go grocery shopping or stop out for some drinks with friends, everybody has an opinion about it. some positive and others negative. who knew that a small, slightly bizarre article of clothing could spark such a vocal response?

so i'm posting it up here. and i'd love to know: what do you see?

buddy the elf, what's your favorite color?

i love christmas. really, i do. i have watched elf about 3 times and love actually maybe 8 this past december. i don't mind christmas shopping, and i'm all about the red cups at starbucks.

seriously, this year i've made it my mission to overdose on christmas, because it's just depressing when it's gone. but i'm amazed at peoples' capacities to ruin a good thing, even when i'm making an honest effort to enjoy it.

like yesterday, my partner and i got chastised for not playing enough christmas music at our store. people, i'm going to let you in on a little something. everyone at my store works, at minimum, 4 shifts per week. for every shift, we listen to the christmas mix at least twice. and of the songs on that mix, 5% we actually like, 45% are tolerable, and 50% make us want to get on the ground and cover our ears in the fetal position. i often think to myself, how is it possible to have this many bad versions of this song? i bloody like this song, and this is terrible! keep in mind that the christmas stuff started before thanksgiving was even dead and buried in the ground. but just for you, gracious patrons, we do not get into the fetal position. we keep making your grande 6p gingerbread, 3 splenda, breve lattes with extra whipped cream, iced, no hot, no iced, no hot, no wait, do you make a frappuccino?... okay, hot. and happily so.

so this woman came in while we were up to our eyeballs in people, and complained that we never have christmas music playing. at the moment, we were taking a break with some reggae. my supervisor told her that we switch over every so often because we're all just a bit burnt out, but if she was planning to stay, he would gladly switch to the christmas mix for her. no, she explained, she just wanted to get her drinks and go. she actually never stays when she comes in. she just finds it offensive that at the one completely unpredictable time that she comes into the store for 30 seconds each day, we don't happen to have the christmas mix on. then she whined that we don't serve marshmallows and was on her way. "merry christmas," i called after her, to no response, of course.

hear that? that's the sound of my life being sucked out of me as we speak.

um.

i bought my plane ticket to prague today.

the usual anxiety is starting again. hard to say if it's better than before i went to taipei. and one day, i will master it, just as i've conquered other travel-related fears. i figure that once i've had almost everything stolen from me, things can't get much worse, right? right. suffice it to say, the anxiety is ebbed by the fact that i always sleep with one strap of my bag wrapped around an arm, and the bag is always on the side with the wall. you think i'm kidding, but i'm so not.

generally, i will tell you right now that i have no idea where the money has come from, or will come from for that matter. but it always comes. my bank account is like Jesus multiplying the loaves and the fish. this happened to me in europe. and again around month 2 in taiwan. and then again when i was planning for my trip to russia. i always look at the money and think, there's no possible logical way i'm going to do this. but without fail, $20 seems to stretch into hundreds, though i've never been good at doing the math on how this takes place.

a few months in prague. then it's hard to say, but i will figure out where God meant for me to be. i have so many bright ideas about what's going to happen and so few ideas about how i'm going to do it.

but the certainty that i'm supposed to go searching for what it is constantly sits in the back of my mind. it makes my legs twitch and my fingers ache. it gives me euphoric dreams and horrifying nightmares. makes me notice everyone and no one. i feel like my soul sees with so much clarity that i might go absolutely, intellectually mad.

i'm just hoping that i'm wandering in the right direction.

thanksgiving.

i have a confession. i love... no... love american holidays. i think that they are the best holidays ever. nothing makes me miss home like missing a good, old-fashioned american tradition. in fact, i can tell you a number of sad, lonely tales about what i did on my favorite holidays of the year.
for example, last fourth of july, i spent the day exploring st. petersburg, and the night waiting in a station for the longest and most uncomfortable bus ride you can probably imagine. twelve hours from petersburg to riga, with one stop in estonia in the bloody dead of night. i did discover that it eventually gets dark that time of year, however, but only for 2 hours. and for those who don't know, the fourth of july is my second-favorite holiday. just after christmas. so you may as well call it my very favorite holiday.



despite my lonely tales, i will tell you this: one of my favorite thanksgivings was last year, the first one at kate and caroline's... and the one that followed with the mormons. it wasn't perfect. no fancy china or sitting at a large table while everyone gave thanks, and on one occasion, no turkey! actually, i think there were even canadians and kiwis at these events, too. but the joy and the welcoming and the warmth of the whole thing made me feel like i was at home again. for the first thanksgiving, possibly ever, i felt that i had something monumental to be grateful for. i had a family, despite having no family. i wasn't lonely, despite how very lonely i had been. i know, i know, normally we thank God for the big and the small, the meaningful and the insignificant... that's what the holiday is for. but this one, somehow, was different. i suppose that i'd felt so much of what it means to lose, or give up, what was important and comfortable to me, only to be provided for in abundance in such a very foreign place.



these days, i'm totally loving thanksgiving.

win, fail, ?

a few things:
i heard back from the school in prague. they've accepted me into their program, sans interview.
win!
i think i'm getting ill, and have been for a few weeks now.
fail.
i loved wicked.
win!
some avenues seem promising (win!) but don't seem to go anywhere of significance (fail)
prague means that i will be leaving work this winter. this also means leaving all manner of pleasantness and unpleasantness behind.
?
i had a startling, vivid dream last night. about last year, that mountaintop in indonesia, and terrible things that happened in my dream, though not in real life.
???

on the road.

lately, i've decided to ride my astoundingly agile scooter to and from work. sure it's about 3 miles away, but i enjoy the weather and the quality time with my ipod, thoughts, and the fall colors. fall is my favorite, probably for no other reason than the colors themselves. i enjoy warm things: deep reds, forest greens, and especially browns. i used to think of brown as a bastard child of better colors, but lately i've begun to think it's very misunderstood. it has the uncanny ability to make me think of all the things i love about being alive, like hugs or shivering or coffee or scarves or wine or giggling in hushed voices because it's much too late and much too quiet; but we don't stop because there's so much to say and i love you so much more than sleep.

and while i generally use the time just to think about my plans or imagine what might have been, it's been the source of much illumination these days.
for those who don't know, though it's likely you've never met me before if this is the case, i have a strange, inexplicable obsession with jack's mannequin. or maybe it's andrew mcmahon, i'm not sure which. though he's married these days. and he used to write extremely spiteful songs about being in high school and kissing girls. stop judging me!
but on my walk home, i think i may have solved the mystery of my attachment! it really has everything to do with how distinctly californian the music is. most of it is about southern california - living here, loving here, leaving here. all things california. and it actually makes me in love with being here, and so much less anxious to leave as soon as possible. california isn't dirty or noisy or polluted anymore, because andrew describes it how it is, but with such affection that it becomes something much more beautiful than that.
here are some images of my home and why, on occasion, i really do love it.











you'll be missed, miss california
we'll be married in the rain...



the other day, instead of listening to my sweet tunes while taking my even sweeter ride, i just walked. as i flipped through songs, the classic "an american girl" by the indomitable tom petty came on. firstly, let me just state that i adore tom petty.
and secondly, i want to know how it's possible that, though i've heard this song dozens of times (DOZENS), i haven't actually related to it until now?
well she was an american girl
raised on promises
she couldn't help thinkin that there
was a little more to life
somewhere else
after all it was a great big world
with lots of places to run to
yeah, and if she had to die
tryin' she had one little promise
she was gonna keep

oh yeah, all right
take it easy baby
make it last all night
she was an american girl

it was kind of cold that night
she stood alone on her balcony
she could the cars roll by
out on 441
like waves crashin' in the beach
and for one desperate moment there
he crept back in her memory
God it's so painful
something that's so close
and still so far out of reach

oh yeah, all right
take it easy baby
make it last all night
she was an american girl

i won't dissect them for you, and yes, i know that there are other meanings, many of them not so positive. but the one i inferred while listening to it struck a chord that i haven't felt in a long, long time, and i suppose i'd rather dwell on that.

that, and the shades of red that the trees are turning these days.

lattes aren't worth it.

a few days ago, i had excruciating pain in all the knuckles in my right hand. i'm not someone who typically bows to pain. i deal with pain. i'm good with pain. but that was bad enough to distract me. and today, my elbow, the right one of course, is the problem.

i'm almost certain that starbucks is giving me carpal tunnel syndrome.
damn frappuccinos.

sleep

i think that, tonight, i will sleep much better than i have in a long while.

thank You, for taking this away from me.
i'm really glad that You're a whole lot of things that i'm not.

personality tests

lately, my family has taken a number of personality tests, partially because it'd be good for us and partially out of curiosity.

i have recently discovered that i am a blue-white, very nearly a blue-white-yellow.

and also that i am an enfp. more importantly, i also learned that, as such, i am typically attracted to intp's and infj's.

somehow, this explains a great deal, about me, and about the hims i seem to choose.

i really wish i'd known this a year ago.
or three.
or maybe even five.




to be honest, i'm very tired of hurting, and really i just wish it would all go away. this week marks 60 days, and i am saddened to find that, on occasion, i still feel compelled to cry. i'd like to think i've forgiven, because being unable to do so is only going to hurt me - slowly eat away at me so that i remember nothing about him but my own bitterness. this would be unjust as, truly, i mostly felt much, much sweeter things than bitterness. some things, more deeply, wildly, and beautifully than i ever thought i could again. and others, more painfully and recklessly than i'd ever hoped to revisit after the one that took me a year to extract.
despite all this, i have no desire to utter that forgiveness, much less express it in a meaningful way. still, part of me feels that the dreams, the nervous twitching, or maybe even that sick feeling i get at the bottom of my stomach when i uncover that letter or those entries will go away if i do. the other part of me, however, believes that any utterance will only be disregarded, or un-reciprocated, or worse, criticized. that somehow, the whole thing will be concluded to be my own fault, and i, being ever-true to form, will accept the blame. it's hard to say which course of action is more unbearable, but even more difficult to admit that the reason i refuse to act is because i'm sure i'll cave. and i absolutely cannot cave, because, i know, absolutely, that it wasn't my fault, and even more absolutely, that i can't take the humiliation again. blessed are the poor in spirit, He said, for they shall be filled. i don't know that i'm ready to feel that poor again before i wait for You to fill me up. i don't think i even have the capacity for that kind of humility anymore.