no one is making you read this

if you have had an opportunity to get to know me in the slightest, you would know that i am a people pleaser. for as long as i can remember i have never wanted to hurt anyone or have them feel uncomfortable or unintelligent. due to this tendency to accept and please, i have kept my voice silent (or kept my "news feed" clear). any time there is an election, a debate, a story of a dead celebrity, a "like my status and i'll tell you x and y!", or any other trend, i keep myself quiet. for the longest time i convinced myself that the reason i shouldn't debate political/religious issues, especially via facebook/internet, was because i was uninformed. i like to think of it as ignorance is bliss. but, honestly, i wasn't and am not currently ignorant on current events. but i don't find it necessary to always be the first to comment with my opinion. i'm not saying this to show how "humble" i am (wouldn't gloating be the antithesis of humility?) i'm saying this because i felt that my opinion, based on 19 years of learned behavior (morals, religion, culture, etc), may not apply to the person who posted theirs.

with that being said (here it comes; what you anticipated), the entire Kony 2012 campaign response has made me feel a different urge. instead of scrolling past that part of my news feed of a typical facebook trend, i read as many as were posted. and for the first time in my life, i want to use my voice...blog.. my words. they can be taken with a grain of salt. no one is forced to read anything on the internet. every time someone is opinionated and leaves a comment, they clearly read, watched, and spent time on what they're posting. they were never forced to participate. if you've read this far, i'd say you're either interested and willing to hear me out, or.. well.. i can't wait to hear your comments.

as many have made overwhelmingly clear, Kony has been an issue for well over 20 years. i don't need to go into detail, after today i don't know many that aren't sure what has been happening. however, up until today, i was one of those who didn't know. i had no idea who Kony was, what he was doing, the amounts that have suffered, etc. my heart hurt for those people; not like that emotion alone could benefit them. i can never imagine having to live in a constant state of fear; in a way that alters you for evil as means for survival. by the end of the video, i couldn't remember who the filmmaker was, where he was from, and honestly the name of the organization. i knew about a group of people who are hurting and suffering. and wasn't that the point? isn't the point of this campaign to raise awareness? no one should ever have to live in such a state of hell.

if you're still reading, here is why i began writing this in the first place.

whether or not the Invisible Children Organization is right, they did something to raise awareness. in 1 DAY they got to over 2,000,000. as someone who knew nothing of the issue 24 hours ago, i'd say they did a pretty damn good job getting your attention. the entire 11 year long organization began with a man making a documentary; a filmmaker. there is a huge issue on the military support and the finances and all things "KONY 2012". but now people know the reason this all started. all i can tell from any opposing party is that they still know that what is going on is awful and they want to see it end, but they may not agree with the campaign and its sparkle. THEN HELP. like i said, it started with a filmmaker. I am a photographer; don't expect me to know the first thing about an issue. but i can take pictures and i can get them seen. we are a visual people. we enjoy more graphics than text; and it gets our attention. This campaign is becoming viral in more ways than one; everyone is kicking and screaming their opinions on how wrong it is and where its flaws lie. step back, please? what do " The Invisible Children Non-Profit" and all its critics have in common? THEY ALL THINK KONY IS WRONG. so why are we making comeback videos against the IC on what they are doing wrong instead of coming together as a people and tweaking its flaws? easier said than done, i understand. but the video raised awareness, now lets find a way to solve a problem.

it's funny to me.. how being right is so important in human nature; how finishing on top matters, even if it's just a comment on facebook.

but the truth is, those children are suffering; they would rather die than live. and from the means of torture they have been forced to use upon those they love, i don't think a merciful death is even something to hope for. in the end, i don't think it matters to them if we have facebook fights, wore red bracelets, or even wrote a blog. they want to feel safe; something so many of us take for granted.

the awareness is there; now how can we use this to benefit those people? we all know how to find flaws but how do we encourage and change for the better?



i may be writing this specifically due to an issue raised, but i'm writing this with the heart of someone who is tired of division; exhausted from people arguing the details that keep us from the problem at hand.

take a stand to speak positively. criticize to be helpful, not to win.

love. accept. encourage. respect.

we will never grow as a group, a society, a country, or a world if we are divided by pride and honor.

united we stand and divided we fall. makes sense.


KJC

scars

cuts so deep it's like they're never going to heal. 

pain so real, it remains unexplainable. 

i've become this.. this cut, this wound. 

all i know is pain; sharp breath, empty eyes, shaky hands.

if the cut was so painful, why continue to return?

it's all you know. 

to risk infection to every bit of debris wafting through the air.

to risk the scar that will remain for a lifetime. 

to risk continuous pain... for what? 

nothing. 

nothing but the cut, the infection, the scar, the pain, the familiarity.

so deep.. so terrifying... so alluring. 

the cuts seem so light at first, they sting, they burn, but eventually they begin to heal.

the scab, the fragile, new-forming skin; the hardest part to resist. 

as much as you know you should let it be, walk away, let it heal. say goodbye forever and let the tiny scar be a lesson; you can't. 

you pick and scratch and dig deeper, trying to find the source. what makes it tick, what made it happen, how can you keep it going, how can you savor the feeling, since it's the only one you've ever seemed to know.

eventually that sting, that feeling, that pain that is so familiar, is gone. 

all that remains is the mangled and misshaped scar, screaming to tell it's tale, but forever encased in silence. 

broken

I'm broken. not that I ever was whole. not that I can remember; being whole, a time without you. so many, so faded, so distant. for a moment I had hope; call it faith, even. I believed you were real. or at least the you I wanted to be real. the you, that is, before I knew the truth. I almost wish it were still lies. it was easier than this. less painful. easier than the hole, the heartache, insomnia. I miss you.

fast

i didn't realize what an oxymoronic life i lead. i want things instantly. when i want to watch a movie, i hope it's on instant queue so i don't have to wait for it to get mailed to me. when i have to pay a bill, i do it online. when i need to ask someone a question and they don't answer a text or phone call, i see if they're on facebook. All instant communication; which i hate. i guess it's because the generation i've grown up in grew on technology. i don't know a world without internet, a place without cell service, a time without email (which is becoming outdated in itself). the world is becoming entirely too fast pace to even stop and enjoy anything in it. in high school we had to read Fahrenheit 451 (a book about the disuse of books and an electronic future.. bad description.. it was a while ago that i read it), and as much as i dreaded summer reading, this is one i actually took a liking to. there is a part in the book that i briefly remember where one of the characters stopped being so stuck in a fast paced, electronic world, and was merely staring at a tree and enjoying outside, and everyone questioned them. the book itself was written in the 50s i believe giving an ominous look at how we would become. it was a little farfetched and extreme, but in the back of my mind i can't help but think that's exactly where we're headed. anytime we go 4 seconds without cell reception we vow that our provider is "the absolute worst" and we must switch over to someone else asap. when was the last time we just stopped.... 


sometimes i just want to get a handwritten letter, or write one, whichever. knowing that i had the time, or someone else had the time, to get up from the table and stick it in the mailbox. even with electronic billing i rarely use the mail anymore. working in a fast food chain priding itself on fast, friendly service, where we must serve a customer in 2 minutes and 30 seconds or less and meeting these deadlines for school while paying bill after bill that never seem to catch up, really makes you want to stop, or wish you could stop, and sit; grab some coffee, read a book, and breathe. 


however, the coffee is most likely an instant brew while you read the latest books on your kindle while checking facebook in the other hand; but its close enough.


i say this as i write it on my blog which quickly posts to my facebook for me to monitor and edit on my phone... whatever. 


SLOW DOWN. BREATHE. DON'T WORRY. 


you'll still live... maybe. 

the potter's madness

madness. i've reached it; i've felt it; i feel it. i became an addict clinging to my narcotic, my gateway, my iron clad chains i didn't want unlocked, my religion. A potter can only attempt to sculpt his clay in a way so similar to the twisted and coiled disarrayed vessel i've become. the cracks have formed over time, linking themselves to one another and forcing their way through what used to be resilient. He can, however, glaze over the cracks, gently masking them for a time. your supplied vapor; a poisonous venom that often wafts and dances through the air, lifting me to a higher state of intoxication than i've ever felt before. Unable to defy gravity, i must come down. The crash; the crash, the potter cannot prevent. No matter the labor, the pain, the infinite amounts of time, the potter cannot repair the broken and distorted that now remain lifeless on the pavement. the glaze will never mask, and the hands will never heal the sharp edges that will slowly wither and fade to dust; back to it's origin, only to be reshaped, for another day.  

1.8.11

I don't know references. I don't have a favorite band, song, or cd. my movie knowledge is highly limited. no favorite author, artist, actor, quote, lyric, line. and I will nine times out of ten not know what you're referring to. I will forever be lost every single time you ask a popular culture question, look to me for a music choice decision, or wonder what movies I've seen in the past year. no. I don't live under a rock. and yes. I watch movies, listen to music, and read a good book every now and then. I merely receive them differently than most. you see, when I hear a song, I can't tell you what else they've recorded, the name of their lead singer, or even the title of the song. but I can tell you how it makes me think, feel and react. I like each song I choose based on the emotion it allows me to feel, which I can't feel without it. in turn, I'll write about it, letting a reader feel this way as well.

I can laugh at a movie but only get so much enjoyment from repetitive notions. my books have marks and tear stained pages, but they only inspire ideas and emotion rather than burn a quote into my memory.

I'm a different soul. one that is rarely understood. but if you took the time, unlike the rest, I think you'd grow to enjoy picking my brain, as I do yours. time will only tell if you'll stay long enough to try.

love

from the very beginning, it seems, my care and unaltered love for others has been apparent. i always thought it was completely genuine, but as i grow, i see that it's not well received. clingy, emotional, attached; many hurtful adjectives misinterpreting my seemingly misplaced love.

do we all expect to only get hurt in life? is that why we can't accept true love when we find it?

i've found that no matter how pure and genuine a person is, they are not trusted 95% of the time from the very beginning.

i, however, am in that minute 5% that believes that they are truly there for you, not wanting anything in return, but genuinely good people wanting to love just as much as i do.

more than i want to be loved, i want to love. i want to show absolutely how much i can care about someone, but not out of arrogance, not out of selfishness and not with the intent to get something better in return, but because my heart has been entombed for so long. the beating walls have almost cracked the very foundation of the cavern it is trapped beneath. it holds so much "love".. a word that's lost so much of what it deserves.