exquisite is an exquisite word. The plan of God is exquisite and magnificent. The contrast of despair and hope can be described as a most exquisite juxtaposition. I love the book of Ecclessiastes because it expresses precisely this. In 4:2-3 are written some of the most despairing words in all of Scripture, comparable only with passages such as Job 3, and Jeremiah 20:13-18. Yet in contrast, there are passages of hope and purposeful rejoicing, such as 2:24, 3:12, 3:22, 5:18-20, 8:15, 9:7-9, 11:7-12:1. It is so amazingly comforting to see that despair is in Scripture. This is so humanizing to realize that the most terrible things we experience and feel in the depths of the soul are not only okay to feel, but even are found in Scripture. When I read the despair in Scripture I know freedom, because here I find adequate expression of what is so often easier to hide, ignore, push down, squish further and further with hope that it might disappear and for once not lead to the inevitable explosion of all the fuming pressures that can finally no longer be contained. 
I wish I could find some sort of way to adequately express this wonder and amazement that seizes my soul when I am taken aback by this contrast. It happens again and again, and I am always just speechless, and am overwhelmed by the inadequacy of words. Can I make art about this gorgeous contrast? It is the most sublime feeling to be confronted with this juxtaposition. My soul is searching for some adequate expression. But perhaps that is part of knowing God; to glimpse the depths of how beyond our understanding his plan and will is, and to plummet yourself in that depth in abandon. 

1.29.13

What am I supposed to do with my brain? There are some things that I want to forget forever. 

What I really needed in that moment was to scribble graphite across a page, do yoga, then to hear the Chromatics, and continue to document my thoughts in those markings, directionless, yet somehow ordered in their chaos, across the page.

4.3.13

I don't really know. I want to be something. I have this longing inside me. Its the longing that makes me dance when I hear music. That made me stay up all night high off of two double strength rock stars and five exedrin a night to write a paper and go above and beyond in the research along the way my sophmore year in college. That makes the lyrics, "it's better to burn out than to fade away" resonate with me. That made me go to the crazy ass house with the blue lights. That made me try weed ten times or so before I finally came to terms with the fact that I didn't actually like it. That made me go to the bardot to rage to booze and music and people. That made me smoke a pack of camel crush's with my headphones in my ears on a heartbroken summer night listening to Lyyke Li, "Little Bit" auto-erotique remix. The kind of thing that makes me stay up late when I have to wake up early for no reason other than I want to. That makes me listen to techno music, and that used to cause me to listen to screamo. That makes me want to dress up and wear heels and lipstick and make my hair look so damn amazing. That makes me buy new clothes. That is somewhat satisfied by the tingling sensation of subversiveness. Of booze flowing through your blood vessels, pounding beneath your tainted eyelids. For the moment when something is so gorgeous it aches. When something is so sublime that you run away in terror. This longing rage that floats about in my gut grasping at everything that might make me feel alive.