Traffic and Revenge.

the gun i wish i had is quivering in my hand right now, my violence and rage is overpowering and intoxicating, but what if the coin was flipped, what if i couldn't do anything about it, what if it actually played out like this:

The door opens a crack and a soft, mildly upset voice passes through with deceptive ease, "Has anyone seen Nikki?"

I'm sitting on the floor across from my roommate, playing cards, leaning on our bunks. The voice outside belongs to David, one of Nikki's best friends here at the house. He's never really this timid, that's why he and Nikki hit it off. The outgoing people here found each other quickly and spent lots of our group's free time together. I glance at my watch and look up at David, "No, when was the last time you talked to her?"

"She told me after lunch that she was heading downtown to buy a new shirt or something."

It's almost 8 o'clock in the evening. San Francisco is getting dark about now, towering buildings blotting out the sun in the heart of the city, this fine August night.

"Asher, it's almost 8."

"I know David." He's starting the freak me out the more I look at him, watching his expressions change, quickly becoming more and more panicked. "I'm sure she's here somewhere, just keep asking around."

"I've already checked with everyone else."

My heart skips a beat. I feel a chill ripple through my arms and I accidentally drop a couple cards. Derek, my roommate, is none the wiser, and I can see the same wave coming over him.

Here at our group house in San Fran, all of us know all too well what might have happened to Nikki. There are about 25 of us students from around the country studying human trafficking and how to spot it, report it, and take it down. Our high blood pressure is well warranted right now. Every night prostitutes line the streets in certain districts of the city.

Derek and I stand up in a split second and David steps into the room, closing the door behind him. He lowers his gaze and slowly looks up at us, saying, "we need to go find her."

"How the hell do you expect us to do that?" Derek's voice almost cracks, "None of us know our way around here."

A second of silence gives the weight of this situation a little bit more time to etch itself into our collective psyche. Shallow breaths scrape from each of us in raspy turns. I want so badly to panic. And then I just want to be armed. Then I wish I had a car. And, again, a gun.

David breaks the tense stillness, "there are already a couple people on board and willing to go look for her. Nate and Mike and Ernest. But obviously none of them brought their cars."

The three of us stand in a tight cluster at the center of the room. I'm probably stepping all over our card game. I don't give a damn at this point.

"David, maybe we could call the cops."

"Derek, that's insane, they'd be nearly useless. Unless they have a trafficking unit... Okay, we won't rule that out, but let's get other people on board first."

David turns and opens the door and the three of us shuffle out, looking for anyone else with an open door. Mike, Nate, and Ernest come up the stairs, huffing. They must have been running through the whole house. Mike stops a few feet from us, "guys, the Professor's calling the cops. They should be here in a few minutes."

David turns on him, "Why would they need to come here, Mike, huh? Nikki's downtown and needs them there!"

Mike is taken back with David's tone and clears his throat, "Dave, they're gonna take a couple of us downtown to look for her, see if she's just lost."

Nate tries to level out the situation, "Dave, do you know exactly where she was going? Like, what store, what district?"

David looks like he's tripping over his own thoughts. He closes his eyes, saying through gritted teeth, "Macy's, by Union Square."

That's not too bad, I'm thinking. Then I remember Union Square is actually a park. As big as a downtown block, and pretty shady at night. Frankly, it's downtown San Fran--it's not really that safe anytime during the day. I grab David by the shoulder and push him toward the steps, "guys, let's get down there and do what we can. Grab water bottles or blankets and stuff them in a bag. Depending what... well... Nikki may need..."

I don't need to finish my sentence. Since Monday we've heard people speak of the terrors of being hand-cuffed to bed-posts for weeks at a time, laced with drugs enough to sterilize a cow. It only takes about a day or so to get girls addicted to any drug you give them. Nikki's no exception. She's an attractive blonde with a thin frame and long legs. It wouldn't take much of anything to render her senseless. My adrenaline races and I push past them all, yelling at them to go to their rooms and grab something helpful. My yelling causes a couple other doors to open in the upstairs bedrooms.

As I get downstairs, ignoring questions and calls from the others upstairs, I find the Professor waiting by the front door. He stands alone, fidgeting, his cell phone at the ready. In my blurred state of vision right now it looks like he may be packing under his jacket. But for all I know it's just the influx of adrenaline that's causing these visions.

"Asher, hey, are you okay?" He looks concerned.

"Nikki's missing. No I'm not okay. When are the cops getting here?"

"Just a couple minutes."

"We're almost ready to go."

"To go? Asher, you're not going anywhere. The police are just getting a description and a couple photos."

"The hell? Yes, I have to go. David has to go! Mike said they'd take us to help look for her."

"No, not anything like that. We can't get involved."

"Mike wouldn't lie about that, Professor."

"I'm sure he misunderstood or something."

Mike and the others show up behind me.

The Professor turns to him, "Mike, what made you think you all were going with the police?"

"Professor, uh... you said you'd have us ready for them to pick up when they got here."

Everyone looks confused, my heart rate's going insane. Would someone please make a definite statement soon!

The Professor extends his hand, holding an envelope containing a few photos. Outside, we can see red and blue flashes growing brighter. There's no siren, or maybe there is, but I can't focus enough to hear it if it's there. "Mike, I told them I'd have these pictures ready for them to pick up."

Mike and David nearly collapse.

"I'm sorry, but no one here is going with them."

Ernest blurts out, "But Nikki's out there! We don't know if she's okay! Professor, we're the only ones who know anything about her, about the way she walks, what she looks like, what she might be wearing! The cops need us out there! Nikki needs us!"

The Professor's eyes flash with anger and anxiety and in a cold, thinly masked wavering tone, "I know. The cops don't work that way, and we don't have any jurisdiction to see if we could find her in another person's house or business." He pauses and I can see a vein bulging on his neck. "Guys, I need you to help calm everyone else down right now. The cops will do the best they can out there. The law only allows them to conduct searches anyway. We can't break laws trying to find lawbreakers... That's just not how this works."

"That's bull!" Did I really just say that? The skin over my knuckles seems tight and stretched. God, is this really happening?

"Asher, calm down. There's nothing else you can do right now. If any of you want to pray, that would be great, and for those that don't, I need you to stay calm. Nothing can get done without--"

Someone's knocking on the door. The yellow light from the lamps in the room is intermittently over-powered by red and blue hues flashing almost as fast as my pulse.

The Professor walks to the door and opens it with a shaking hand. Two uniformed officers step in. The looks of apathy smeared across their faces disturbs me. You don't know what you're doing, do you? You little pricks can't do anything with that lack of concern! Just give me your damn badge and gun. I'll do your job better.

"Hello Professor, What was Nikki wearing?"

David steps forward, "A green jacket and um... these blue jeans with little swirlies of gold and red or pink or something. Her sister Sandra, she made them for her last year, she..." David drops his eyes, "Take me with you, officers, I can spot her from a mile away."

"I'm afraid we can't do that, sir."

David seems to be convulsing. "She's my best friend. You have to understand."

"There are ways we can and cannot go about things. We can't take you with us. You just have to trust us."

"Find her. Find her, officers." He raises his eyes to meet the taller officer's, catching him off-guard. "Find her tonight, or expect that I'll be joining the search first thing tomorrow."

"You can't do that, sir. That's not in your jurisd--"

"Damnit! Don't tell me what I can and cannot do."

I'm not sure, but I think I could absolutely expect David to take someone's life for Nikki. These cops better know how serious this is to us.

David's not done, "Find her tonight. You don't want to have to deal with all of us if you don't."

I am expecting some sort of confrontation from the cops right now, but for some reason, these two seem to get the point, and instead of anything further said to aggravate David, they simply say:

"Green jacket, blue jeans with colored swirls. We'll do our best."

The Professor closes the door behind them and I ponder how trite and half-ass that statement always sounds: "We'll do our best."

Will you, really? Cause I'm sure I could do better.

I am told to return to my room. I feel a hand on my shoulder. I notice David's as frozen as I am. Someone is trying to urge us both to move and head upstairs. Eventually the hand on my shoulder loosens its grip and I and David are left alone in a silent, tense, pulsating foyer. My ears are throbbing.

The gun I wish I had is quivering in my hand right now, my violence and rage is overpowering and intoxicating...

Find her. Get her here safe. Bring her captors to justice. Or I, and most likely David, will seek revenge. Every one of those creeps deserves a full clip of hot lead in them.

It seems like hours before I release my muscles and try to walk away from the foyer. David is still standing there, motionless, when I close the door to my room. I look at Derek and catch his eye. We don't have to say anything. We're on the same page.

As I lay down and Derek kills the lights, I stare blindly up at the ceiling. Just a few thoughts running through my head:

Find her. Get her to safety. Bring her captors to justice.
Find her.
Save her.
Now.

identity in you?

they say i've got identity in you Jeshua, but they also say you don't love gay folks or black folks or Iraqi folks, that's why i don't think i want THAT identity, i know your justice is different from that of those that claim your name, but i can't handle it, i'm lost, unable to find just you, just you, simply you, where the hell are ya, i'm reaching out in every direction, to my friends, to my causes, joined NAACP SPUSA and one too many churches looking for me, not you just me, i got it wrong, and now i can't get it right.

how can you be so close and so far, how can i climb the highest mountain and somehow miss you, how can i seek justice the way i think you like it and never meet you in the streets, how can i be raised in the church only to founder at the age of 20, how can the church raise me and push me out of the nest, i don't really want church, i want community, i guess i was raised by one that has now morphed into counterfeit, counterfeit cash burns a different color, smoke traces give it away, put it to the test and it fails, see me hurting, no you don't, you're not looking, you're the counterfeit.

i can't find my identity anymore, i don't know where to start, i'm lost in a foreign state, a fresh foreign state of mind, i don't want a lot of readers i want the right ones, i want those i can read with weep with write with smoke cigars and drink with, all that in fellowship with the Rabbi, where did the Rabbi go that no one can show me what he looks like anymore?

a sip of peach tea i find refreshing, i watched a confusing movie today, wish i were home, wish i were at bcc even though i know i've outgrown it their too, not all change is bad but all change hurts sure as hell, i hate this limbo this extraordinary maze, where are you taking me you devilish white rabbit, you're such a pain to me right now, i really am in pain, can't you tell, stop running me in circles and stop for a second won't you, i need peace, i need restoration, i need community, i need identity.

but identity's gone, jumped the gun as i jumped off the wagon, joined a new caravan called college again, they say it'll make me smarter, what if cigars i've never tried are all that i want, what do you say to that you pristine white-washed vanities of vacancy of vision, invest in someone won't you, invest in a man in need of a heart transplant and stop shoving me those bandaids damnit!

God, sweet sweet God, i want what you give, what you have given, what you always give me, i guess i lost it somewhere along the way, did i deny it or have it robbed from me, only a few remotely understand me and that number diminishes, i know i'm not alone but i see so few who are fighting for what i'm fighting for, i'll continue to pray with her, it's been a while since that act, i miss our prayers every night, her sweet soft voice saying amen and good night, i miss knowing she was with me on it, but i stopped praying with her each night and i blame me alone, i am the cause of my problems, i want to come back, but i don't even know which way to go!

i had another chance to find communion tonight, but like so many beyond the walls of the "church" i refused the chance, gave myself an excuse, i've been hurt so many times as i've sought companionship in you Rabbi, don't make me try it again in the wrong place, i'll join the ranks of the gas station guy, he with his beautiful broken eyes, he and i the same are crippled and killed by the christian church, i find more peace with him than i have in a "church building" in a year or so now.

i don't know what i did but i have become your judas.

Freedom of Speech... French Style!

when upset about a government policy or action there is but one thing to do to voice your anger:


burn a car.

-/-/---

France, though they are often insulted in ways that would make any national of any such country bristle and buckle, is seemingly a more impressively democratic nation than the United States, or Great Britain.

the French seem to take to the streets at the slightest hint of unfairness within government policies.

but then, who says there's anything slight about racism, unemployment, homelessness, and ghetto-style poverty?



i know why they did it then in 2005.
i know why they continue to fight back.
i know that they are not alone in their anger.

LAISSEZ FAIRE: Dedicated to the uninsured 47 million Americans.

Laissez Faire


generally adored
this system fortunato
rarely abhored
maker of the ghetto

in a country hailed
by three hundred million hearts
covered if failed
with doctored charts

we hide the effects
defy the attacks
coming from rejects
lost with no chance


highest bidder, step up!
fight for your cash
and trample the Gallop
see? ain't no backlash!

we keep 'em down n' broke
what they got to take?
might be the stroke
or backyard snake

build my empire on your back
you slave, slave away for me
i cut your paycheck
damnit, don't cry when you bleed!

you're gonna stain my Persian
walk out of here and stay
i give you compensation
to keep the Wobblies at bay

don't try to organize
put those chains back on!
when you gonna realize
life ain't fair to a peon!


we switch it up now, boss
we take back the mic
you gonna hafta cut your loss
or we goin' on strike!

don't tell us what to do
we know what's ours to claim
and we gonna take it, too!
you didn't listen--damn shame

we want healthcare--swear it!
you've killed too many
we're gonna live--declare it!
no more big money


i'm gonna tell my kids to come
what corporations got wrong
tell 'em what is good n' done
apologize it took so long

you can have your competition
just don't shoot craps with strife
wheel n' deal to bold fruition
but give us liberty n' life!


--

pax.

26

the windshield wiper's been at it for a few minutes. it's starting to thump against the car.

hustle, bustle, and, so much muscle
cells about to separate
i find it hard to concentrate
and, temporary this
cash and carry 'em
stepping up to indicate
the time has come to deviate

the rain pours harder. i grip the wheel with my left hand, holding on tight as the curves wind.

and, all i want is for you to be happy
and, take this moment to make you my family
and, finally you have found something perfect
and, finally you have found...

my right hand is so blessed as to be interlocked with yours. you lean toward me in your seat, fingers rapt with mine.

death defying this
mess i'm buying its
raining down with love and hate
now, i find it hard to motivate

the tires peel and turn as i speed on to my house to show off my amazing best friend-turned-love.

and, estuary is, blessed but scary
heart's about to palpitate
i'm not about to hesitate
and, want to treasure the rest of your days here
and, give you pleasure in so many ways dear

you speak loud enough to be heard over our new favorite song, telling me of your family, giving me more reason to love them and you.

and, finally you have found something perfect
and, finally you have found...
here we go

our windows are rolled down just enough, the rain-guards not really working and i don't care as my arms gets sprayed by the intoxicating rain.

do you want me to show up for duty?
and, serve this woman, and honor her beauty
and, finally you have found something perfect
and, finally you have found...

hungry and thirsty, still several tens of miles from a dinner we're incredibly late for, there's peace in your touch and the fleeting glance.

...yourself... with me, will
you, agree to take this man
into your world
and now, we are as one

i'm blown away by who you are, where you're from and that you have faith in us despite neither of us having a great track record.

my lone ranger
the, heat-exchanger
is, living in this figure eight
now i do my best to recreate
and, sweet precision
and, soft collision
heart's about to palpitate
now i find it hard to separate

i am broken, my past the rap sheet of a criminal of the heart. too many broken behind me, my own in shambles...

and, all i want is for you to be happy
and, take this woman and make you my family
and, finally you have found someone perfect
and, finally you have found...

you are perfect, the beautiful woman i love and will hold and hold dear forever. i want you and you alone.

all i want is for you to be happy
and, take this woman and make you my family
and, finally you have found someone perfect
and, finally you have found...
Yourself...

as the final word rings out i look into your eyes a second longer than you'd like as the road blurs beneath us.

as the final ring is cast and dyed i breathe in something never tasted before. i know. i love you. te quiero tanto... tanto... tanto... tanto... tanto.....




[lyrics by Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Hard to Concentrate", sentences written entirely, completely genuinely, by me]

first. drink it black.

i've been up for ALMOST an hour at this point this morning.

i've gotten into the habit lately of spending nearly at least an hour on the phone with a particular loved one every night (at least while i'm away at school). that tends to make me tired, but for some reason i get up really bloody early anyway.

the clock read 11.57 when i hit the pillow last night and about 7.03 when i rose this morning, my body itching incessantly on my legs, my arm.

i've got poison ivy. again. it normally lasts me about a month. hopefully not this time. i've caught it early and applied calomine lotion this morning, then came back to my dorm room, put on the coffee, and watched a ridiculously pointless fake video called 'Everyday Normal Guy', and showed it to my roommate.

poured some cereal, it's got real strawberries in it :) and Silk Soymilk. pretty healthy, and should be vegan, too, i think :) :)

coffee stopped choking and bubbling about five minutes ago and i poured it into a mug. took the first sip.

i drink it black. Imogen Heap's playing loud into my ears. Hide and Seek.

without a mug of coffee every morning, i get a caffeine headache. but i think i wrote about that some time last year, probably...

i was starting to get a vague headache until that first sip. the first sip is really good.

how great is it that i start the day with a hot mug of bold black coffee and a conversation with God, and that i finish out the day with another conversation with God and a great conversation with her! i am blessed. :)

~a poli sci major~

that's what i am.
and i'm proud of it
excited for it
intoxicated by it

never thought i'd see the day where i'd love class ha!
not when i was in seventh grade, no way, man!

but here i am, loving all my classes!

it's strange, but totally cool!

you know it's a good class when you're unable to sit still, leaning forward too eagerly, laughing too much, and smiling like an idiot. normally those would all be signs of lunacy. or, perhaps, even now they are! either way, i've really enjoyed my four classes so far!

Chinese 101: Introduction to Chinese
Political Science 130: American Government
Political Science 280: Comparative Political Systems
History 202: American History 1877-Present

this morning, sitting in my Pols 130 class, i couldn't help but feel a lot like i do when i listen to Coldplay's 'Viva la Vida'! yesterday afternoon, for class, i read the Declaration of Independence and was struck by the similarities of all the things Jefferson indicated warranting a revolt, and all the things that've pissed me off about the Bush administration.

the problem is that there's not enough to engage the masses in such a movement against the standing government. the Declaration even outlines the need and permissions for "abolishing" the government if "abuses" continue. Jefferson also makes allowance for the larger portion of the colonists being willing to "suffer, as long as evils are sufferable" and to feel no larger reason to take action and declare a new Rule.

at this point, in all fairness, what i perceive to be evils in the current government's way of handling things, are not entirely insufferable. i recognize that there is little that can be done at this point, save from joining movements that wage a more figurative war, fought by the People and for the People, in the modes of the common People.

armed struggle is not even yet a remote option. there's not yet any need. as long as there is any semblance of democratic form in the government that stands in reign today, there is certainly apt opportunity to change for the better, to sacrifice the goods of the few for the good of the many.

i am not opposed to armed struggle under duress, in such a situation as it becomes the unavoidable last straw.

UPRISING, the film:

the Jews are being marched out of the ghetto for the express purpose of being carted out to the concentration camps and extermination camps.

a covert handful of the Jews is armed.

as they turn a corner and the column of Nazi troops is no longer connected in a direct line, madness and chaos interrupt the stoic march as this collective of citizen-soldiers opens fire on the soldiers that would coral them to their deaths.

one bullet, one Nazi.

in this firefight there is an open for hope to eek into the darkness of the ghetto.

the Nazis take a surprisingly long time to deal with the uprising, and by the time everything is dealt with, entire companies of soldiers have been exhausted against less than 50 untrained, passionate rebels.

it's in this saga of struggle and sweat and blood that some of the Jews make it to freedom via the sewers. in this saga justice is the victor.

...

i am a political science major, hell-bent on bringing heaven to earth, even if for a fleeting moment, in the lives of the oppressed.

i don't want enemies, but it comes with the territory.

it's the kind of life and future that i must lay everything else down for, and it is so incredibly exciting to be getting more and more involved with other people who are willing to fight and die for such a beautiful cause as justice, for such a sacredness as Shalom.

i'm going deeper.
the oxygen down here is sparse
many will fall back before the end
many will faint
and before i can even get there
many will be lost

but i will not stop.
as long as there is injustice in the world, the Christian's work is not finished.
the Disciple of a Just God must learn to love Justice... and to love it so much that the thirst for it burns in their throat in the most difficult of global regions, while they know that there will be no way to quench such a divine thirst without expending oneself completely in the struggle for truth and beauty and justice.

let it be a final song, perfectly in tune with God's greatest masterpiece!

Shalom, sisters and brothers.

to be is not to be good enough, right? wrong...

a lot of people i trust have told me that God really just wants us to BE with him, to delve in his presence and exist side-by-side, heart-to-heart.

i believe that
but indelibly
i recognize i am a flawed reflection
of that.

as i'm going to divulge later to a dear friend and confidant, in far more detail than i shall here, i have realized that i fall into the trap of either of two extremes...

i either focus immensely on doing too much and planning too much for my life in the future, as well as in the present, or i fail to plan, entirely, and the moment the hope of something in the future fails, i feel as though i am truly alone, and i start wishing i had an other person with whom things could be... "significant."

and then usually, that doesn't end up getting me anywhere without too much pain, for i fail to factor in all that i've ever hoped to DO, and the BEING of that relationship fails.

kapput.

back to square one.

and the moment i plan too much i am attacked for not giving God room to work in my life and in my future, and i am forced to reckon with my loneliness again, even though i was doing a darn good job keeping it at bay as long as i had a task at hand or even simply a few distant, adventurous goals.

i don't like that i do this, and perhaps i'm not the only one struggling with this, but i am the only one who's made it plain to my brain that anyone's dealing with this. ergo, i shall make plans, for to not have any plans would simply be too painful...

but maybe if i find a way to make room for God's plans along the way in mine, maybe then i'll get it right...

i just wonder what kind of girl would be willing to do a journey around southeast Asia, north Africa, or Latin America on motorcycle (or two) in the style of Ernesto Guevara's "Motorcycle Diaries"; what kind of girl would be willing to leave this country for long spurts at a time and travel spartan across deserts and jungles, just to find the truth of human rights in a given corner of earth; what kind of girl would be willing to put any remote possibility of family on hold for up to a decade simply to travel with me, with our God, and with our desire to serve anyone we encounter, at our own expense.

that's what i wonder, and that's why it's always looked easier to roll solo down the road.

God, since you're in charge, you tell me what i need to do, or how i need to be, ok?

ok.

thanks.

one hundred wonderful things that will never work out

someday soon i'll just do it
just bite the bullet
take the verdict
to hear the truth that's been so pensive

i'll walk into your house
sit down across from you
fold my hands in front of me
and look at you in perfect seriousness
and i'll ask you out
and you'll say 'no'
and i'll ask you why
and you'll say so...

you'll give me reasons
things i can change
and others i cannot
i'll feel like crap
but i won't make you feel the same

i'll untangle my fingers from each other
and shakily shake your hand
i'll say 'thank you', rise from my chair
take my leave, and step out for some air.

standing on your porch
i'll give you exactly
one hundred nineteen seconds
without me

i'll wish that i smoked
and then i'll wish i had something to smoke
like a newport or a marlboro
they say i look like a camel light guy

but as i stand there alone
aggravation and a red face
i'll come slowly around to contentment
i'll think of you inside
you're one of my best friends, you know

i'll take a puff of the tobacco-less air
and make a list of one hundred wonderful things
that will never work out

and at the top of the list will be you and i
and at the bottom will be carving up Mars into apple pie

and realizing solemnly that it ain't that bad
i'll turn from my reverie and reach for the door

put out the cigarette never really in my hand
take a drag of the air and of God and of peace in the land

and when i come back in
you'll probably be laying down with the TV still on
maybe you've turned the volume back up

i'll say hey and drop my keys and wallet by the door
grab some cookies and fill my cup
and sink into my seat

we'll watch Mind Of Mencia like nothing had passed
we're back to normal again, sister
laughing with a really funny guy named Carlos
and i like it this way

i know that what i write here
i'll never ever say some day

it just helps me to write it
to picture it this way

knowing nothing could ever go wrong
as long as this is how it stays

in fact you'll probably never hear any word
or mention of this from me
i'll fail to ever tell you myself
how much i really do care about you
i know it won't work
but there's other things that don't either
apple pie in the sky among them

and i know that life rolls that way
i can roll with that too
thanks for your patience
i can really assure you
that these feelings are gone
by the end of a South Park or two

thanks for who you are
thanks for your coolness
and for not letting me slip away
no matter how many other people you bring into your life

in fact that's all i believe i ever worried for.
peace be with you, sister
and thanks for keeping me close by.



[photo from hamada's photostream on flickr.com]

"breathing through fear"

two days ago i walked outside during my break in the middle of my math class in order to step into the warm, breezy, dark afternoon sphere that captivated my attention in every waking moment that day until i stood in it.

i had been reading a moving, strange poem written in 1968 by a man named Juan Gelman of Argentina, entitled "Conversations."

centered around the author's feelings in relation to the recent loss in the hero named Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, the words stirred in me a desire to write verse.

and after my walk, barefoot through the mud around a new building site on campus, i sat down in the classroom in the moments before we reinitiated the lecture and put pen to the paper, finding within me, these words:

"Breathing Through Fear"
[Archer. 22 July 2008]

it's funny to me the heads that turn
the eyes that burn into me, my jacket,
my beloved Esther alive in earth tones,
ensconced in warm dirt and clay.

i walk unshod
the sole figure
an embraced soul
the bleedings soles
through the mud
and burning sand
spirit in hand
the wind dies
to just a whisper
i tread through treads
of yellow beasts far bigger than i
holding my own
breathing through fear
thick in the air
He in my ear
He, the wind, and my warm feet
what else could i need?



.PAX.
-Archer

a journey renewed... again.

if anyone reading this has known me well for over a year you'll definitely recognize these sentiments, especially if i knew you at the end of my spring semester at Lakeland. and there may be a few of you who recognize these exact thoughts if i spoke with you about this in Africa.

i wrote this a week ago in an attempt to understand myself and get some things out on paper. it was unfinished, but maybe i'll like it better this way.

--

my mind is racing. the Jesus of Peace. the God of Justice--would they think this right?
a monster taking on the bigger monster.
theoretically, in being armed, i can kill.
i can take life. not yet, for i am thus far unarmed,
but in the future. three, four, maybe five years, and i'll have the capacity.
but can i pull the trigger?
what hat will i wear?
will i be undercover?
will i be a badge?
or don a suit?
what about combat boots, camo, and a bandana?
will i go guerilla to "seek justice"?
will i be seen as a terrorist, murderer, snake?

or will i even ever really take a life?
in defending the poor and oppressed, will the Prince of Peace fade to the background?
will his call be lost in gunfire?
will i ignore his will?

if no one is to perish, perhaps i can help, and simply aim low-- just high and hard enough to bring them down so they cannot rise again.

can i shatter your bones in your legs and kick your face into the mud and know that you'll walk away from your crime?

--

tell me what you all think, please. every time i think this way i find something that swings me back to the other extreme end of the pendulum and i loathe any hint of violence.

and then again i see violence succeed in releasing captives of cruelty.
and then i remember there's no such thing as redemptive violence.
and then i think to myself, "is rescuing violence the same as redemptive violence?"

war is not the answer. invasion is wrong. occupation is wrong. but what about insurrection? what about violent uprising within a country in order to gain liberation?

i am stuck. i could go for a coffee date or a phone call with anyone interested in talking about this stuff.

peace.
amani.
veritas.

i have a dilemma...

...that makes me feel childish, yet i am nearly twenty.

it is possible that someone is reading this who knows very well the person to whom i am referring, when i state that i have likely royally screwed up a friendship with someone i never got the chance to get too close to, before i went and buggered it up with short-sighted remedies of simple anxiety. and now, i am afraid to lose her friendship because she seems really cool.

maybe i'll get another chance, but for the time being, pray as i might for things to return to normalcy, i have no idea how i must act to fix this for the long-term.

anyone who's known me more than a year can gather a fuller extent of info simply based on experience with me. yeah, it's probably what you're thinking. and yeah, i need help, and suggestions.

this'd be so much easier if i just knew more people here. then i'd have balanced everything out to begin with, but i didn't know hardly anyone else, so i messed up by focusing so intently on one friendship that i frankly blew a hole in whatever had been built up.

tonight i went out with some guys from church (all at least 3 or 4 years older than me, which made me feel special) to see Leatherheads, after watching some Rob Bell sermon stuff at bible study, and it was really helpful to get out again, with GUYS!!!! when the freak did THAT last happen?! it was cool.

balance is re-taking what it once held to its own, and hopefully with this balance, and with my striving to give her just the right amount of space, there will be healing, and i will rejoice in that. for now, though, i'm content to be working in the right direction, and asking God to help me get there.

pax, everyone.

confession (round 2)

last May i posted about several major character flaws of mine.

since that time i haven't really had too many opportunities to say anything further on the topic of my character flaws. but now i've come up with a reason for that to change.

i've got another character flaw to address and willingly expose to the few who don't already see this in me. tonight i had a bit of a chance to reflect on all my past relationships with girlfriends... i was driving home from a Bible study where the leader's daughter (a friend of my little sister) said something along the lines of, "so, i heard you got engaged in Africa?" apparently my sister had not only blabbed to this friend, but to a hand-full of other friends i've never even met, not to mention this friend tonight told her mother, and i've already told her father, in another related discussion.

it doesn't really bother me at all that people know this about me (as long as i'm able to explain and contextualize that statement!) fact of the matter is that i was, in fact, according to cultural norms, engaged to a girl i met on my team in Arusha, simply because i found her attractive and she caught on. it was all a whirlwind from there. we ended up fine by the end of it, sticking to our single selves, however, somewhere along the lines i'd further damaged my credibility, and apparently, she had as well. or i had done so, for her. i don't really know, or comprehend it all.

the point is, including the fact that i've been engaged already and "broken it off" (though i was oblivious of the severity of it until about a month and a half later!) i've simply had too many girlfriends too deal with myself. i'm not proud of it, and it's shown me just how weak i really am in this area.

i wear a purity ring. it's a small, ding-ed up silver ring on my left ring finger. from over 5 feet away, looks like i'm married. i look over 20, sometimes as old as 26, apparently... basically, with this ring on, i look untouchable.

that's just the way i want it to be for now--i'm still trying to go a couple years on my own, just workin things out with God, since i really haven't had such a chance since my sophomore year of high school... ergo it's time for a bleedin' break!

basically, i mess up. i ROYALLY mess up. i go back and forth between the Reign of Over-Zealous and the Reigned-in Over-Cautious! apparently, subconsciously i think that firing both kinds of weapons will balance things out and create a pleasant, neutral reaction. sometimes i get lucky (i.e. not dumb) and i ease in a statement here or there, where it could've been quite explosive instead, and totally read in the wrong (or right) way! thankfully, that hasn't happened too recently... barely.

just trying to hold myself together, and keep my sights on Aslan, and not get too tripped up trying to play the field for the time being. i've done enough of that at this point. i apologize to all whom i've hurt. please forgive me.

hopefully this next stint on earth will prove better-handled.

PAX.

off my chest

when something's bottled up for a while and doesn't go away, it's cool to get it off your chest, even if you risk pain or perpetuating confusion. at least you've said your piece. and now i have peace. and grace to continue.



thanks be to God, my beautiful, adoring Adonai. for you have blessed a humbled man.

a follow-up of the mention of the girl...

so a few entries ago, i mentioned that i was going to write a letter to a girl. a letter to a girl who may or may not play a huge role in my life in the future, in a romantic sense.

a letter that was met with a response exactly how i could have hoped for... and the outcome?

still absolutely single with no signs of slowing down any time soon! i love it! things are better now between us (though things were never bad between us, i just feel less nervous), since i've had a chance to share this with her, and get her feedback (since the feelings mostly sat on my side of the fence--not so much with her anymore).

so, singleness feels really good when you don't have an outcome in mind, no woman to run to as soon as you're fed up with being "alone". no promises for marriage. actually, still looks more and more like i could remain single for the rest of my life, whether it be long or short.

feels good.

just thought i'd share that.

may the peace of the Lord Jesus Christ dwell in you.
Amen.
PAX.

into able hands, and a very able heart

as early as Friday, December 14, 2007 i and my partner, Punjabican, will both be unable to contribute here until next year.

it is hard to have to shelve this for now, but when i return from outreach (in Mwanza, TZ) on January 10, 2008, i should have some great stories and observations and other thoughts to post on here. she will be going on winter break from school, as of this friday, and i don't remember exactly when she'll be able to start writing again.

we apologize for the boredom that may ensue whenever you check into this site. God knows i will be bored without this so familiar arm of expression.

but we also trust that we will by no means suffer any loss of creativity and imagination and material to put up on here!



in other news, though slightly related, we're capping off our first calendar year with this blog, with our first anniversary actually coming next month, on January 12. when we began we had four writers. three are still on board, but only two of us remain active. on our first day both Punjabican and i posted about the beginnings of everything we were striving four.

i said, on January 28, "i am going to experience the hardest months of my life to date, this year." the entry was entitled "i never knew i could be so tired"

that holds perfectly true, even though i had yet no real idea of what it was really going to look like.

it's interesting to look back and see that despite our early idealism, we've all stuck to our guns. even the two writers who don't write anymore have remained true to their hearts, and to mine, as my friends, and i know all four of us did something right by starting this journal.

it will be sad to go for so long, writing nothing. if i get a chance to, i have one other friend, deeply involved with all that Punjabican and i are striving toward, and also a great writer--i would like to invite her to join us as well! and perhaps, Punjabican and i will leave this journal in her able hands and very able heart.

thanks to everyone on the team who has made this such a great year! my love and prayers are with you all!

Merry Christmas!
Happy New Year!

May God's constant presence be a blessing and a joy to you as seasons shift.
PAX.
Namaste.
Salaams.
Peace.
-Archer & Punjabican

heat

the heat is on.
i feel idle once again.
i feel a waste of energy and knowledge.
i need to be out there.
gotta go fight.

the heat is on.

i picked up 'Not On Our Watch' again, after over a month. just in the mood for something political and activism-related. and now i feel more lost than ever.

missions is important, and not more or less important than justice, i believe. frankly, i think Jesus seemed to emphasize how we are to live more than what we are living for in the end. i could be wrong. but that's just the impression i get.

i feel idle once again.

i'm in Africa, but there's so little i can do. i can't give money since i'm so low on it myself. i can't write letters since letters across Africa rarely seem to make it where they're going (sent one to Dodoma, TZ, from here, and one to Capetown--two months ago. no reply.)

i miss lobbying with my colleague Bethany P. she and i were a good team. we hit two congresspersons from Ohio in one week, while thousands of other Amnesty activists were doing the same nation-wide. and that was back in March. i can't do anything like that here. in Darfur, people are still targets.

i feel a waste of energy and knowledge.

i learned a lot about Darfur and other issues like it, while working with Bethany in the spring. i've learned a lot while reading this book. i've learned a lot from peers and fellow passionate people.

i'm nearly consumed by the energy for this task. i'm at the point where i'm willing to pull out anything i can from companies my Roth IRA is invested in, if they're in any way connected to Sudan. i'll march straight up Capital Hill chanting if you give me a chance.

i need to be out there.

sitting here, with all this energy cooped up inside me, feeling so useless and yet so potent, i can think of only two solutions: either go to Khartoum personally, or likewise to D.C.

i need to be among the ranks of the marchers, the lobbyists, the mega-phone shouters and screamers, the political writers and journalists, the eager students and sacrificial soldiers. but i'm here, with an ever watchful eye for just such an opportunity.

gotta go fight.

standing at the edge of the cliff, what else is there to do. i've been backed into the corner by the indifference and ignorance around me. the people with the blank faces don't realize where i am, how close i am to the edge.

but now i've gotta take a stand, raise the banner, draw attention, raise awareness. shake things up. fight. things get dirty when people raise havoc. quiet is more destructive than loud protest. i gotta go join the fight.

Get into gear and make some noise.
-Archer

-a really controversial political/ecclesiastical blog on Hillary Clinton-

Hitler.
Stalin.
Mao.

Communist China.
Soviet USSR.
NAZI Germany.
Sharia Saudi Arabia.

Disappearances.
Firing Squads.
Hangings.
Arrests.
Public Executions.

...or simply slander.

all these people, places, and things are closely correlated, in collected memory and common knowledge, with the reality of vast persecution. the very last (and seemingly least) on this list, is rarely measured as the same caliber.

but maybe that's all the persecution Jesus and his roving bands will get if Hillary is elected next year.

the Church is (or was) strong under all the regimes listed, in their respective locations. what if the Church would grow if it realized that Christendom didn't have a monopoly on the grand establishment of 'American Government'? ("Hail the con-qu'ring HE-ROOOO!!!" *trumpet blast*)

i wanted to vote for Barack Obama.
(even though he spoke of invading Pakistan)
i wanted to vote for Sam Brownback.
(even though he seems to have a beef against gay people)
i wanted to vote for Ron Paul.
(even though he seems to have no mercy on illegal immigrants)
i wanted to vote for Morgan Freeman.
(even though a great African American like him only stands a chance in 'Deep Impact')
i even wanted to vote for Jesus Christ.
(but Mom told me that would probably be a waste unless His second coming is inauguration day, 2009)

but, no... out of nowhere, while pondering the increasingly over-Christianite right-wing political climate of the U.S. ... God throws me a curveball, and puts a brand new name into this young voter's head.

yeah... hers.

Hillary Clinton.

i'm so confused. but i think maybe she'll have my vote.

i want to clarify this... somehow.

growing up, i was raised in a relatively conservative Christian home. i've had really close friends raised in very strict homes of the like. many of those friends have turned their backs on their old "faith" since it was more of a force-fed, indoctrinated religion. i stated once in a youth group setting, a few years back, that my biggest feared is an entirely Christian-run world. frankly, as i begin to understand american politics, that holds true more fervently than ever. i don't want to live in a Christian nation, just as i don't want to live in an atheist nation (like the former government in Albania), or under Sharia (Qur'an) Law, like Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan, and the northern half of Nigeria.

i can't see any of those places truly benefiting the heart the citizens have for their God (or lack there-of).

Jesus did not overthrow Roman occupation in Israel. Rather, Jesus did attack Pharisee religious leaders on nearly a daily basis.

Jesus attacked religious rulership because it left the Pharisees devoid of love for their beautiful Adonai!

i have a friend attending classes at Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia. she's recently written that she misses God. the late Jerry Falwell has set up his school in so distinctly a Christian frame that men and women stay on opposite ends of campus, and on only one day a year is any member of the opposite sex (aside from immediate family, hopefully) allowed into your dorm room, as a sort of 'Open House'. God is everywhere on that campus, and seemingly nowhere in the hearts of some of its students.

my friend misses God, on a Christian college campus in the Bible Belt of the USofA!

people say they’ll leave the country if Hillary’s elected. who knows, maybe she’ll deport half of us anyway... i know so little of her politics--except that she’s a caricature of the devil to so many right-wing Christians.

i think i’d rather leave a country under the rulership of Pharisees than abandon the strong and the few faithful, under Nero.

“So Christ has truly set us free. Now make sure that you stay free, and don’t get tied up again in slavery to the law.” -Paul’s letter to the members of the Church in Galatia, chapter 5: verse 1

if we are free to choose, will we not choose the Truth?

PAX (ROMANA)

an amendment to my reading list

not a fan of serial killer novels. thought i could go with 'The Poet', mentioned a few posts ago, but no-siree-bob! it wasn't exactly of the calibre of "film noir" which is what i'd hoped for. with was worse than Law & Order SVU.

not my thing. especially since lately it's just been the last book i've been in the mood to pick up. i pulled it out of my satchel (which is with me no matter where i am, no matter what room on the base i'm occupying!)--an incredibly huge step since i over-pack to compensate for any kind of mood i might be in for various reading material. frankly pulling it out was a huge vote of no confidence!

it just isn't edifying. i think i'm finally beginning to face things the way my dad does. he's got a knack for removing books and movies that won't do his psyche (or more importantly, his relationship with Jesus) any good, and he sacks 'em, reads or watches something better, and never misses a beat in life.

i think i'm finally growing up and getting to that point in my walk with the Son of God. i just don't want filler crap any more.

feels good to put this novel behind me for good!

PAX.

doing singleness the wrong way...

flipping shut the novel i checked out of the library here on the base a few days ago, a murder mystery called 'The Poet', i'm nearly to page 100 of the paperback, and the action's starting to kick into high gear, as the protagonist, Jack McEvoy--a homicide reporter at a Denver newspaper--stumbles onto a theory that link's his cop brother's recent suicide with another cop suicide 2000 miles away in Chicago, making it look like a serial killer. he sets his sights on Chicago, D.C., and the FBI HQ on the east coast, aiming to track down this story.

McEvoy's a 35-year-old bachelor who's lived in the same apartment for the past 9 years, working the same reporter beat at the paper.

reading about his life suddenly taking a turn for... (at least) the more interesting and exciting, i found myself strapping on my bag, slipping into my sandals, throwing on my shirt, shrugging sleep off, grabbing my 1.5 liter Kilimanjaro water bottle, with the label ripped off, and heading down the steps from my bunk in the dorm room, toward the bathroom. stop at the sink on the way out, scrub my face with water and wake myself up, then run my fingers through my hair that i'm growing out in a rather mottley fashion, and head out into the open courtyard, feeling invincible.

standing coolly in the shadows, my unkempt brown hair striking strange shadows across the tan bricks and chop-cut grass behind the short bushes, i breathe deeply, and suddenly realize the attitude shift that's come over me.

i suddenly feel like i'm on top of the world. i'm only going to check my email and perhaps blog a bit, really, so why this high? nothing fancy or new about me... just the bag i spent less than 14 bucks on in town, after getting a wad of cash out of the NBC ATM in Arusha. maybe it's because everything went so smoothly, or just because i am dwelling so much in God's goodness to me, that i'm frankly forgetting the key to all of this:

once i get to feeling this good, i'm likely to forget where the source of this joy really is.

i am liable to phase God out of the celebration, right at the kick-off.

i am on the verge of doing singleness the wrong way. where i start to get the hyper-inflated sense of self-worth, and my own ability to get involved and actually influence things. me and my intentionally shabby appearance begin to form an ego to go along with the care-freeness of it all.

i gotta remember--and reclaim--the simple truth of this only working if it's only about Jesus. not about being single.
the latter's great and all, but not if it's not filled in by something much, much better!

it's a daily thing: re-working on that. but it's good. just can't get too caught up with the crazy hair and the deadly hyper-inflation of Asher.

Peace.
Jesus.
Love.

-archer