After three measly months.
My resolution of at least one post a week lies tattered on the ground.
Anyway, I wish my life was a musical.
I suppose viewing of Dreamgirls influenced that phrase somewhat.
I wish I could sing really well.
I wish I could kill on the keyboard and drums.
Also, something nasty happened dunring practice the other day.
And I start.
The fresh breath of change shaloms into everyone of us at some time.
With the minds of stereotypes I ponder the carrot-dangling effect of change.
AS a donkey grabs a carrot, change leaves an effect of which is unique.
Application of thoughts seem insignificant to the frail dandelion wistful teenage mind.
Musing may seem intelligent however useless.
I don't want to think, I want to do.
IN answer to the many teenagers out there, life is not meaningless.
Something bonker-age fad crap.
Yet when the wisest man in history built great towers and rivers.
It seemed meaningless. Only Jesus can fill that hole.
Hmm.
What use are thoughts?
What use is penning down all this?
Change will inevitably come.
Life will go on.
What meaning is school?
When can one enter the plan?
For it is said that no man can enter the kingdom unless blahblah.
Sactifying oneself will only bring me so far.
I don't get it.
The pleasure of man, which is me.
Undoubtedly is shortlived, laughs and heehaws will end and memberance of each only ends in vaugeness of craniums.
For what use is it?
Why is the foolishness of God, man's greatest wisdom?
Why is man's greatest wisdom the foolishness of God?
Why am I man?
Why comprehension of such is long foregone as a subject one cannot even begin to scratch the surface of which time itself is uncomprehensible.
The promise of peace and joy may sound infantile to some.
Yet it is a promise.
Why am I mocking the very reaches and depths of something unknowst to me?
Is it fair?
Was I there when the mountain goat gave birth?
Or when the sun sets over the block?
Or when the wind is let loose by it's gentle whispers over the sea?
Or when the sea is guided by an unseen hand?
For if Job had it's moment of weakness and Noah and Gideon ended in shame.
God knows how will I be.
For all answers point to one thing.
Or a few.
Here:
Jesus loves me this I know, For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to him belong, they are weak while he is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me, for the Bible tells me so.
I hate this moments.
The feeling of stereotypes crash over me.
But there is a phrase for such.
The Expulsive Power of a New Affection.
I wish I can continue my good life.
Cheers.