Whatever

Relationships can be a tricky thing. Not only do we pour our hearts out to someone, but they pour theirs right back. Sometimes we aren’t ready to hear what their heart has to say. Sometimes their heart isn’t ready for what ours has to say either. This can cause a lot of strain both physically and emotionally. Someone can become worried sick because of something that their partner said… or what they didn’t say. Why do we work like this? How can we go from feeling on top of the world one day, to the lowliest worm the next day? This isn’t healthy. Maybe we can find a solution to this pain; a solution to those tricky parts of life that we don’t want to deal with. Maybe there isn’t a solution, but we just have to struggle through them day after day. We continue to struggle, hoping that relief will be found. Who are we kidding? Relief will never be found. A solution will never be discovered. Life will continue to drag on, pulling us along behind it.

Festival Time!

Today my family and I attended the Bear and The Square Festival in Dahlonega, Georgia. Dahlonega is a little town in the northeast corner of the state, and is settled in some beautiful mountains not far from where the Appalachian Trail begins. There was also a major gold strike in Dahlonega in the early 1830’s, which made it America’s first large gold rush. The festival that we attended has nothing to do with the gold. About 15 years ago, an American Black Bear wandered into the town square and climbed a tree. This caused quite a hassle, and it was very difficult to remove the bear. For some reason, they now hold a bluegrass festival in that same town square every year to commemorate the event. I don’t know why they do it, but this festival is definitely a highlight of my year. There is food, crafts, performers, and of course music. If anyone is wanting to experience mountain culture, I highly recommend the Bear and The Square Festival every year in mid-April in Dahlonega, Georgia.

Untitled

Life
Love
Forgiveness
Acceptance.
Stripping demons right off my back,
Tryng to leech life off of me,
Get off of me!
And feel my Father's fury oppressor!
One day you'll fell the full blast of his vengance,
Bells above but for now I'll love,
Because I have strength.
He blew courage in my back bone,
Now I'll stand straight and militant.
Lining up in Jehova's battalion,
Knowing you can't challenge Him so we march forward.
Swift as eagles,
Set like talons,
Ready to grip souls from your grasp.
Slick snake in the grass my Lord sees you....and vengance is his.
But for now I retaliate,
Propelled by a holy mandate to heal,
Because I know how bad it hurts.
Full of madness at first,
But now gladness bursts out the seams of obiedience
Because we overflow with the oil of joy,
The ointments of the annointed.
Mending any torn soul,
Healing any broken bone,
He is here.
He was there.
He is peace.
He is faith.

Music and Love

Song is an amazing thing. It can be used for so many different things. Music can stir emotions and calm them, inspire actions and speak against them. I have been listening to some CD’s that a friend of mine gave me and they have changed my life. These two discs are full of passionate music; some soft and some loud. These songs speak of living for God, of treating men as brothers and women as daughters of the King, and of love.

 Love is probably the most interesting topic of songs. You can find songs that speak of love as an act; of finding it in a club one night with a stranger. Songs like that are a dime a dozen. The same goes for songs about false love, where the boy/girl is SO SURE that this is the right person; but this is not the right person and they end up hurt. These are all over the radio. The rarity, the four leaf clover, of music is the song of true love. When I say true love, I don’t mean something that feels right. I mean something that is anointed by God, something that is set in motion by the One who cares for you more than any person could. These songs cut deep. They make you examine your life; they present a ruler to measure your life against.

 Truth is your life won’t measure up. Few, if any, people have lived their entire lives apart from the culture of this world. People aren’t to be blamed for this, they aren’t to be called failures for this, for we live in this world. At EVERY turn in our life we are bombarded with thoughts and ideas that come from this world. These ideas penetrate into our lives and soil them. We will never be perfect. We will never be worthy. We, by ourselves, are horrible little things. We, with our Father, are worthy of it all. We, with our Father’s love covering all our faults and bad decisions, are beautiful children of the King of Kings. Because of His blood, we are made pure and worthy of love.

We are worthy of love. People need to start realizing that. They think that they are loveless or a lost cause. They think that true love is something for fairytales. The truth is that true love exists. It is hard to find, but it is out there. The trick is to wait for it. If you look too hard you will start seeing things. You will imagine you have found that love, but it ends up false like in today’s pop songs. We all have someone out there who is made for us.

I took a break and lost my train of thought. I hate when that happens. Maybe it’ll come back to me later. Let’s hope it does.

School/Summer

Summer is fast approaching, and my plans are coming closer at hand. This would be a great thing, I should be totally excited! I am excited, but a little bit scared. You see, I forgot to fill out the paperwork needed. This effectively turned my laid-back weekend into a hectic scramble in a cloud papers. But right now, I cannot focus on those things. You see, I am at school. School does not allow for other thoughts, other than homework. My really important, super urgent paperwork that decides my summer will wait. Instead, I will study a foreign language and write so many papers I can’t see straight. Thanks homework, I love you too

Studying, Part 2

Everyone thinks that the act of stretching ear lobes and piercing noses is a new fad. Since it has made a recent resurgence, it must be something new. This thought could not be farther from the truth. The stretching of someone’s ear lobes has been practiced since pre-history. Archaeologists have even unearthed mummies of mammoth hunters who feature animal bones in their ears. Probably the most famous example of piercings and stretching comes from our own backyard: America. The Native American tribes of the Americas had long standing traditions with these practices, and maintained them until white culture overwhelmed these peoples. Any early sketches or portraits of Native chiefs and leaders show just how “fashionable” these great men would be in our modern culture.

Studying, Part 1

So I am helping my friend Bronwyn study. I know it sounds crazy, me helping someone study, but it’s true. She is researching Victorian women for her senior seminar paper. Since her normal study space isn’t very quiet, she comes to the library here at North Greenville University to type, brainstorm, and do research. Well, we planned on doing research. Our actual path soon deviated from our planned route and led to colonial America. Usually, we end up discussing the Cherokee and Shawnee Indian tribes and the impact they had with the settlers on the frontier. With both of our heads combined, we come up with some pretty crazy theories.

My Dusty Stack of Knowledge

Books are an amazing way to store knowledge. It allows you to record your thoughts for years to come. If you’re lucky, they are preserved for many, many, years. This is on my mind because I am now the owner of several books from the past millennium. I think reading really old books helps to expand your mind in a different way than books today do. These old “reads” not only give you the knowledge inside them, but they make you think in the way people did a hundred years ago. They were written in the time of inventors and innovators. Today everything is about electronics and making things more compact. Back then, America was still a young nation. We were still fighting the Indians, learning about some strange inventions called the “telephone” and “automobile”. People were real, they cared about things, and this is reflected in their writing.

Earthquakes

Earthquakes are scary. Not only are they scary for those involved but for those who watch from across the globe. The more populated area the earthquake hits, the scarier it is. Another scary aspect of earthquakes is that there are usually aftershocks that do even more damage. A while back, when there were earthquakes in South America and other places, a friend of mine had a dream. In this dream, there was a giant snake inside the earth rolling around. The more the snake thrashed the more the earthquakes happened. The snake laid still and there was a voice saying that “This is not over.” Call me paranoid, a conspiracy guru, whatever. I think dreams are ways that God speaks to us, and shows us very important things. Some dreams don’t make sense, but this one? I think there is something important here.  

How nice

I was watching Saturday Night Live last night, when I recognized one of the actors. I had seen him on different movies before, but always in very small parts. That is when I remembered where I knew him from. This dude had gotten his start on Wild’n’Out! I thought about this for a while, and realized how truly special America is. In what other country are those who excel at insults paid huge amounts of money and fame? We are so focused on the negative and critical things about others that we have made putting them down into an art form. We have television shows such as Wild’n’Out and Yo Momma. It is really interesting to wonder if these America created these shows, or these shows created America. Well I got to go, I’m missing my favorite Wild’n’Out right now.  

The Last Lost Continent

I felt your sickness

Brush against my arm as I walked by you,

Heard your voice but…

 Couldn’t tell that it was you.

And I slowly watched your sickness slip away

Into a place that I once feared,

 But I….

Was not afraid this time.

So I gave chase and found it finally,

 Slowly feeding from your head

 And from my friends

 And from my family,

So I grabbed it by the neck.

For every lover you have ruined

I dug my nails into its flesh,

And every life that you have taken,

Slammed its head against the brick.

Its blood poured out onto the pavement,

I stirred it in with dirt and spit.

I will take a part of you.

I made mortar from the mix.

Tore every organ from its body,

broke its bone and fashioned bricks.

I lay the mortar in-between,

I made a throne for Hope to sit.

 Too long you’ve torn us into pieces,

Firmly held onto our wrists,

Today I bury you and me.

 I swallowed every inch of it.

-          The Last Lost Continent, La Dispute

Yum

Mexican food is one of my favorite things to eat. To many people, it is their favorite form of ethnic food. Americans in general enjoy Mexican cuisine. This is evidenced by Taco Bell and Del Taco. What other international food has their own fast food chains? I think this is due to its simplicity. Not much changes when it comes to the menu of a Mexican restaurant. There are several basic ingredients: meat, cheese, beans, tortilla, and vegetables. Any of these can be combined to form a Mexican dish. You want a taco? Take a tortilla with meat, cheese, vegetables and beans. You want a burrito? Use a tortilla filled with meat, cheese, vegetables and beans. Do you prefer nachos? That’s pieces of tortillas covered with meat, cheese, vegetables and beans. Mexican is by far the best form of cuisine.

Music....or MUSIC?

I think one of the funniest things about modern culture is how we classify music. This fact doesn’t impact the lives of the average person, but to those of us who live and breathe music, we encounter it daily. Now knowing what genre your music is CAN be a problem at times, but some people go a tad over in their classification. For example, just today I was searching for some rock music. It asked me to narrow my search, so I opened the window of sub-genres and was almost knocked over by all the possibilities! If I was happy, they had some music for it. If I was sad, they had some music for it. If I was an eco-friendly vegan that disliked the color yellow and was currently going through a break-up, they had music for it! Maybe it’s time we stopped defining everything in such a detailed way. What would happen if we just started making lists of “good” and “bad” music?*

*Yes, I know that would be stupid and we need classification in order to find things. In fact I enjoy classifying music. I’m just making a fun point J

Inspired

This blog entry is inspired by a conversation I had this afternoon with a friend of mine.

As we were walking back to our dorm, the topic of illegal music downloading was brought up. This led into other topics, and before we knew it we were standing in the parking lot in a deep religious discussion. We are both professing Christians, and got talking about how we are supposed to be “salt in the earth” and “light in the world”, we are to be “not conformed but transformed” by the world. This led to a deeper examination of our lives. Are we really being transformed? Are we truly being a light in the world? More often than not we become conformed anyway. It may be in just the small things in life, things that we try to justify because they “aren’t a big deal” or they’re “done by everyone else.”  And that is where we miss the target. It doesn’t matter if it is a big deal or not, any kind of deal is wrong.  Just because everyone else is doing it should be more of a reason to NOT do it than to follow along. How can we be set apart from this world and be beacons of hope and love if we are just mixed in among the crowd? My life is going to be put through some serious scrutiny. Hopefully I can become a beacon.

Types

I think Christians are funny. Do other religions try to show such solidarity on the outside, while questioning and fighting each other on the inside? Is there any other religion that is so splintered into separate denominations? This question has been on my mind this weekend. Saturday night I went to a concert of some bands that I’m friends with.  They are all professing Christians, and show the love of Jesus any way they can. But as one of them put it “Nobody believes they’re really Christians because of the way they look.”  When you walk into some churches, you are met with calm, quiet music and people dressing to impress (WHO they’re trying to impress is still a question). Other churches are full of loud, excited praise of the true God and young people who are tired of normal “religion”. The main thing to remember is that churches are made of people. People come in all different types and styles. I can understand how someone who has been raised with the same “type” of people all their life can look at the “type” of people my friends are and have trouble believing that they’re Christians; not a lot of Christians have tattoos all over they’re body, metal through their noses, and earlobes you can see through.

Choices

Life is funny, and at times ironic. This has been shown to me in the past couple days.

Even though I am able to join, I am not a member of the Sons/Children of the American Revolution. Instead, I became a re-enactor. Now a couple times I had wished I was a member, especially with the available scholarships. But with the decision that I made, I think it proved more beneficial. I haven’t gotten to wear suits and go to wreath laying ceremonies, but I helped to make history come to life for people, and educate them about their past. The ironic part in all this is that in a couple weeks, the Children of the American Revolution are going to go on a tour of a Historic Site and interact with a Revolutionary War soldier. Guess who that soldier is going to be? ^_^

Arts and Crafts time

I think that the only thing that can save us Americans from economic destruction is craft time. We must realize the value in handmade goods or be lost to consumerism. One day, go through some of your possessions are made in some foreign factory. Then compare that number to how many things you have that were made with skill and art, made from the heart, made out of a love of the craft rather than a desire for money. As I type this, my sister is making me something with her own hands. I just came from my workshop filled with leather pieces and sewing tools. If we are to once again see the beauty in creating something, we must learn from an early age that creation is better than destruction. The best way to do this: more arts and crafts time for our kids, and for everyone.

I can fit!

Why are the seats in chapel so close together? Is it to save space? Is it to cram as many people as possible into the house of the Lord? I don’t know why, but I know that it is uncomfortable. Now all seats are not created equally. During the Student Led Renewal services I sat down towards the front. I had leg room! I could actually sit comfortably and kind of cross my legs. But sadly when regular chapel rolled back around, I found myself confined to my seat; all the way back and left. As I sat there this morning, I did everything I could to make myself comfortable. Well comfortable is not the best word. I was trying to fit in my seat. For weeks I have been plagued with the problem of my knees extending about 4 inches past the seat in front of me, and I finally found a solution. The key to fitting comfortably and being able to pay attention to the speaker is to sit sideways! This solves everything. By placing myself at a 90 degree angle to the stage, my knees fit and I can focus. Of course my neck kills me from watching at that angle, and the chapel monitor people think I’m doing something I’m not supposed to, but who cares? I can fit.

Was that for real or just reel?

As members of today’s society, movies play a large part in our lives. No one can deny this, for even in college classes and lectures we are finding references to the latest blockbusters. Everyone loves movies. The question if those movies are accurate portrayals of life, however, is another matter.

It seems that history enthusiasts, professional historians, re-enactors, history teachers and students all love to sit and discuss the accuracy of the newest historical movie.  Every scene and detail is placed under extreme scrutiny, and if found wanting, either rejected as garbage or made subject to jokes and ridicule. No movie it seems has had more than its fair share then Mel Gibson’s The Patriot. Sure it looks good, makes you feel involved as all good films should, but as far as historical accuracy goes, the writers missed their mark.

Now don’t get me wrong, it is a wonderful movie and one of my favorites. I wouldn’t suggest it for its accuracy, but it gives a glimpse into life in that time. If you want to see the WORST Revolutionary War movie of all time (in my opinion), then I would recommend Revolution with Al Pacino. This movie was so bad that I only watched it once, and years ago, and have never had the desire to view it again.

Going the opposite direction, Last of the Mohicans with Daniel Day-Lewis is probably the best movie in my library. With its realistic battle scenes, accurate uniforms and weaponry, and showing the mindsets of the people involved, this movie really lets you see the Seven Years War in upstate New York.  Sure, it doesn’t stay as true as it could have to the original work by James Fennimore Cooper, but it is entertaining along with its information.

So if you’re looking for a great film that portrays the people of the 1750’s, Last of the Mohicans all the way. If you just want to be entertained and not really learn anything, then The Patriot. And if you just want to waste a couple hours of your life or take a nap, Revolution is your pick.

I Love You North Greenville University!

                Well, today I experienced the experience that all North Greenville Freshmen long to experience: their very first room check violation. Oh how my heart leapt with joy when I saw that beautiful pink paper, handed to me by my roommate. Words cannot describe the thoughts in my mind at that moment, so full of glee and ecstasy they were. Oh wait, can I think the word ecstasy on campus? I probably shouldn’t. It’s okay though, I really did not need or even WANT those twenty dollars. I’m just glad that my money can go towards buying quality school equipment like new desks that don’t fall apart (hey wait, mine fell apart today and I had to change seats.) I know it must’ve been a misunderstanding, NGU cares too much for me as a person to treat me like just another fish that payed thousands of dollars, right?

Choosing a school

To the majority of people in America, and around the world for the most part, choosing a college is an extremely important and difficult decision. Months and years are put into research and statistics. Trying to find which “home of learning” is right for them ends up consuming every thought and every moment of free time. If it isn’t the applications essays, it’s then the financial aid and scholarship applications. Some people are trained from birth and told that this is the most decision they will have to make; where to spend all that money borrowed from the government. I guess this makes me a little different, taking my decision seriously only a month before I graduated. Many people told me to choose which college was best for you, which college had the most to offer, where you would fit in better. So my decision was choice to attend North Greenville University was made based on the following facts: good view, interesting history degree, and a big cafeteria. It also didn’t hurt that they kept giving me free t-shirts and stickers, the true way to my heart.

Telling The Story From Both Ways

Bonjour Monsieur, Madame. Comment allez-vous? Bien? Bien. Et toi? Tresbien? Bien. Comment vous appelez-vous? Et toi? Je m'appelle Guilliam. Vous etes d'ou? Paris? Ah... Moi? No, je ne suis pas de Paris, Je suis de Montreal.

This semester I began learning French....the language of artists and monarchs, revolutions and explorers. After studying Spanish for two years (and not getting very far) I turned my attention in a more "Gallic" direction. Being a French & Indian War, or Seven Years War, reenactor makes you really see and appreciate the difficulties faced by such men as the members of the Troup de la Marine. These brave soldiers were usually sent to America from France and served in the armies of that same nation. What sets these men apart from other foot soldiers is that these men were sent to a completely alien environment, completely outnumbered, and told to protect and hold this vast wilderness filled with strange beasts and vicious native tribes who practiced savage forms of warfare. Stretching from the shores of the Atlantic to the deep interior of Canada, and from Hudson Bay to New Orleans, standing guard against the English was no easy task. Hopefully by learning their own tounge, I can learn more and show others who these men really were.

No title

This was either quoted from or inspired by a favorite song of mine.






I'm clinging loosely to prayers that lately, I feel as if have fallen upon deaf ears.
Where are You?
Where are You as my Faith waivers?
Where are You in this blinding haze?
And where were You?
Where were You when I would seek to find Joy in my trials and found no Peace?
Where were You when I did not doubt Your Love, but could not feel it.
And why won't You answer me?
Why won't You answer me?
Why won't You answer me?
Why won't You answer me?
Why won't Your presence pierce this deafening silence I've been screaming through for so long?
For so long my voice has grown weary in Your absence.
The way Your voice once spoke so clearly, there are no words.
The cup you once filled so abundantly has run dry.
And where Your light once led so assuredly, I feel so unguided.
Still I press on.
For I felt You in my paths guiding me in my desire to change,
Finding a path through fallen tears.
Seems I've turned my back and walked away,
Seeing my reflection and not recognizing my own face,
Not knowing why You allowed me to get here.
Though there was a time when the weight of Your reality brought me to my knees.
My shame and my convictions found a Heart crying out for change,
And trying times gave way to white seasons.
My fears would flee the resounding sound of Your Heart beating within my chest,
Your Blood coursing through my veins,
Purifying and breathing Life into this lifeless body.
And now it seems as though I have let the Sun set on that season.
The road you freed me from, now crushes me under it's heel.
This Flesh Your Spirit once cleansed is now crawling,
Festering,
Rotting from the inside,
Numb to Your touch,
Calloused,
Closed off.
I feel alone and overlooked...
I don't know if I will ever find my way back.


And then, You were there.
At the time when I was sure my future was lost,
Your hand reached down and grabbed ahold of mine.
My hand.
My hand that had done so much harm and had become twisted,
A tormentor,
A tool of the flesh,
Evil.
It was that same hand that reached forth and accepted Your Grace.
My path had been winding, hoping to lose You, but it only seemed to help You find me.
For Your Love knows no bounds, and cannot be lost in Darkness.
My voice that had been so strained and weak, was drowned by the sound of Your name.
I now am with You.
My path has reached it's destination;
Your open arms.
You are Joy.
You are Peace.
You are Love.
You are Life.
Your Heart and Blood replace mine, and give new Life to this tattered and burnt body,
This memorial to Confusion and Corruption.
It is torn down once and for all eternity.
Replaced by a shining beacon for others, eminatting a new Light and Hope.
Your Light that once showed me the path, now resides inside of me.
The weight of Your reality that once brought me to my knees,
Now serves as a platform to raise me up so I may embrace You again.
The Sun that had set on my seasons now rises again as the Son and warms me with it's light.
The tears that once clouded my mind and flooded my paths are shed with joy, filling back my cup.
Forevermore will I trust You.
Forevermore will I rely on You.
Forevermore, will I stay by Your side.

That was a lot of 3rd Graders....

       Today was a very crazy day, even compared to my usual schedule. My employer, the Spartanburg County Historical Association, specializes in giving guided tours of historic homes to school children. Back in Spring of 2010 we were contracted to go all the way to COLUMBIA to do a presentation for a school there. My normal group size .....15-30 kids. Today I woke up at 4 A.M. to go teach a group of 108. Thankfully they were broken up into 6 groups, so it was not the crazy riot it sounds like it would be.


Listening to my story, and why I had come there

       A strange feeling that few people experience is walking into a school carrying a flintlock musket while wearing colonial clothing. Only a handful of people know why you are at the school, but everyone watches you walk by and puts all other thoughts on hold. Even if they are makng announcements over a PA system, they will stop talking to focus on you. That was the situation I walked into today at 7:25. Now the best feeling is teaching a group of people, and seeing that they understand and are interested in what you're talking about. I think that every one of the children in my groups today not only had a good time, but they learned about the American Revolution and the role that militias played in that conflict.



When the groups came in, the first activity they was to pick out what items I (a colonial messenger) would need to survive the long journey back to Spartanburg County. This sounds pretty straightforward, but the things they were looking for were placed on a table with dozens of other objects that were either useless to me or modern inventions. Being in first-person, I did not know what plastic or styrofoam was and the kids had to explain to me the meaning of "tennis ball", "football", and "CD player".



Choosing the items needed

My "Corporal" wearing the waistcoat and hat of a Loyalist
militia member

 Once all my equipment was chosen, we disussed the difference between militias; how to tell the difference between friend and foe. Since the miltia wore whatever clothes they had, insignia on the hats had to provide the distinction between Patriot or Loyalist. I dressed up one child from each group, making them my "corporal", and they assisted in the next activity. They got to choose if they wore the "Patriot" hat with the paper in it, or the "Loyalist" hat with the leaves on the side.

      

The next activiy was a militia drill. Each issued a wooden gun, the children were split into two companies and competed to see who could perform the arms drill quietest and keep the straightest line. The girl in the picture on the left wearing the red vest was probably the best "Corporal" of the day. She would actually walk up and down her line inspecting her "troops", being sure they were in a straight line and performing the movements properly. And she was not afraid to push or pull them into line if they were out of place.

         

The last part of the activity was to practice firing their "muskets". The two "companies" would face each other and fire, making the loudest gunfire sound they could. It got a bit noisy at times, but they had to be sure to stay in their lines. Their teacher would then choose who had performed the drill the best, and the winning company would give a loud "HUZZAH!" in celebration. If a tie breaker was needed, a bayonet drill was performed to see who was most proficient in keeping their lines while charging the enemy (the other company).

I really can't think of another job that would give me near as much satisfaction as this. By being able to share my passion for history with these kids, hopefully there will be a future generation of historians who care enough to preserve their past. I think that a good impression was made, and I wouldn't have changed any of it...... but that was a lot of 3rd Graders.