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Quotes by Stephen, Vol. 1

2012-01-23T22:15:00.000-08:00

Ok, before you read these and come to the conclusion that I am the most pretentious, egotistical person alive, well....I'm probably not the MOST...

"I'm convinced candy corn is continued to be sold as simply a novelty item."

"What the heck is wheat germ for? It can't be anything important."

"Did anyone in the world like the show Fraiser? I don't understand how a show so "smart" and "brainy" and "not-funny" could stay around so long? I watched it once for like 5 minutes and fell asleep."

"How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop? 49,332. Problem solved."

"Why aren't pickles called pickled cucumbers?"

"I tried to make my own grapes today. I think there is more to it than grapes and sunshine."

"If you plant a coconut, what happens?"

"I will never like the Ramones. Ever."

"I wonder if there was ever a war between English muffins and French fries."

"Everything these days is pro-Vampire. I'm getting sick of it. Time for a new bandwagon, America."

"Some days I long for exotic roadkill. Like a zebra. Or a parrot."

"There are horror Harlequin romance novels. I don't want to live on this planet anymore."

"Free food is always good. Rhymed. Unintentional."

"I have a love/hate relationship with pet stores."

"A special bond is formed when you hydroplane in a car with 5 guys and almost die."

"Anybody remember the show Step by Step. Me either."

"Getting rear-ended in an accident is more annoying than anything else."

"I am going to carpe diem today right in its stupid face."

"Since 'Prego' means 'you're welcome' in Italian, is the sauce company being pretentious?"

"Here's a suggestion to spice up your shower. Wash your hair without wetting it first. Mind blown."

"Yes, sir. Buying a glass of wine, even at Disneyland, and then walking around talking about it makes you a douche."

"Tiger's Milk Bars...ever a mysterious concept."

"Is it ironic to look for a compass or map?"

"I think I'm going to be a Bridezilla."

"Old people love to open things. They must not get enough gifts."

"There are a limited number of Sudoku puzzles that can be created. Think about that one."

"Diet Dr. Pepper tastes just like regular Dr. Pepper...with aspartame."

"I need to know what goes through a person's mind when they decide to call someone while using a public toilet."

"It takes a real man to sip a pink drink."

"I never understood why kids get Labor Day off. Aren't they a big part of why a lot of us have to work so much in the first place?"

"Whenever you make a mistake, don't let it get you down too much. Remember, somewhere in the world, somebody is green-lighting another crappy Alvin and the Chipmunks sequel."

The Potion, Ed. 2.

2012-01-14T02:41:00.000-08:00

by Stephen Byrne

2012

My time here is short, so I will make my history known. Let no man suffer what I have suffered. I have seen too many years pass and too many sins committed. No one should make the sacrifices I have so hastily and carelessly forfeited.

Oh Jael, forgive me. If only I never knew the man.

I met the man many years ago, in an era almost too distant for any alive now to even fathom. He was an elderly man, weathered lines in his face etched there by time and the elements, but he still had a youthful aura about him, an air that seemed to protrude from him as if it could not be contained inside his frail-looking form. He possessed that arrogant look that a man has when he thinks he knows everything, although this man appeared as if he actually could have known everything. And through his conceited stare, strangely I could see immeasurable wisdom and knowledge radiating from a man who appeared to have lived ages. A small, long-bearded Magi of the ancient world stood before me.

I was a creative craftsman, an alchemist and druggist in those days, and my trade preference was one not looked well upon in my city, in fact it was almost viewed as a heresy against our gods. I studied the plants and elements extensively in order to create herbal remedies and special tonics I was sure others would certainly need and want. However, rarely did I produce such wanted products. I lived meager and destitute, often resorting to the charity of others (if one would call the occasional theft of food and money accepting charity). You may ask why I did not attempt another type of profession such as farming or blacksmithing if my current choice was that unyielding. My shameful response is that I am a frail man, incapable of hard labor and that I am incompetent in sculpting and molding; no artistic spark runs through my veins. The gods did not smile on my birth. I was borne weak, and so shall I remain, and I could do nothing to remedy the matter. It was not mine to decide. Thus I can only mix.

My name, you ask? It shall suffice for the duration of our conversation to call me Janus. I have been called by many names over many centuries, but Janus is my given and most favorite. I would not consider myself a handsome man, certainly not well-built, but I possess a great intelligence that is afforded to few where I come from. I was born in a small southern village, near a great sea to our eastern borders. I never knew my parents; they died of illness whilst I was still in infancy and no one took me in, thus my whole life I had been an orphan, an outcast, to my society. I did not even know my own birthday. Because of the cruel hand Fate dealt me, I lived an extremely hard life, rarely receiving aid from any other, easily explaining my resort to theft.

There was one; however, who showed me more kindness than I would ever have thought possible for another human being to express, given my current circumstances. Her name was Marah. She was poor herself, a widow who performed servant duties for a cruel, wealthy townsman named Tycho out of an obligation her husband had owed, but gave to me as generously as she could afford. Marah used to sneak me hunks of bread out of the window to my eager, outstretched hands or pass me sips of cool water from an earthen cup she had taken from within her master’s chambers. As long as she breathed, Marah would not let me starve. Though it was forbidden for a servant to read, she somehow knew and made it her business to teach me how. She was the closest thing to a mother I could have had and the most selfless person I ever knew.

Marah had a beautiful daughter my age named Jael. Jael inherited her mother’s raven-colored hair and gorgeous smile, but her most unique feature was her eyes, and I think I was drawn to those first. Jael had stunning gray eyes like rain clouds, and I thought that whenever I stared at her long enough I could feel her eyes striking me with lightning, paralyzing every nerve in my body, and it was the greatest sensation I ever experienced. Each time I arrived at Marah’s living quarters for my reading lesson, I would always anticipate seeing and being with Jael. I loved her, as much as any juvenile boy could love a young girl. I never told her, but I secretly planned to marry her once we were old enough, an exceptionally intricate plan for a teenager.

I recollect the day I knew I loved Jael. After my daily session with Marah, Jael and I were playfully chasing each other outside. We soon paused, out of breath, and she looked at me with those dazzling eyes. I smiled at her, and grabbed her hand. What surprised me the most is that she did not pull away. Instead she returned my smile, her attractive face beaming back at me, and immediately I was smitten. I knew in that moment I would do anything for that girl. She and her mother made my miserable existence as an urchin and outsider so incredibly endurable beyond my wildest dreams.

Alas, that black day came everlastingly earlier than I would have forever wanted. Several years after I met Marah and Jael, Marah contracted a deadly fever. I remember being able to do nothing except weep outside her room and hold Jael’s hand, watching her mother’s life ebb away as if it were nothing but the sun drying up a pool of water. Agonizing days passed and eventually, Marah died. After this, Marah and Jael’s master made the judgment to abandon the town and travel to another settlement west of ours, citing our village as nothing but “a disease-carrying hellhole full of inept swine.”

The villainous day Jael left was also the day I first kissed her. That whole period now seems like a blur save for that one moment, forever carved in my memory, embedded in the very fabric of my being. With only seconds before her departure, I grabbed her hand in desperation and pulled her close, pressing my lips to hers. Electrical fire surged up and down my spine, and my lips tingled from the kiss. She pulled away reluctantly and gazed into my eyes with a grief and longing I would never ever be able to erase from my mind.

Before her master took her, I made her one promise, “You will be with me one day.”

“I believe you…” she whispered as the demon snatched her away from me.

More years passed, and I still had not honored my oath, and I lost faith that I would ever be able to reclaim her, but still I strove hard to earn enough to buy her back. Day after day I prayed to the gods to grant me mercy and restore to me the one person in the world I loved, but no deity ever answered my pleads. No matter how hard my endeavor, I still felt as inept as ever.

Every year my town would host a festival of sorts celebrating our gods’ favor on the land; although, seldom did I have anything to celebrate. Many citizens used this gathering as an opportunity to vend their trade. Each event I too would attempt to peddle my goods in a small section of the street, marketing my various cures and medicines and trying to distract would-be customers from the merchants advertising practical goods like food and clothing. Rarely was I successful. So the same was year after year after year, until I met the man.

I saw him a ways off, casually strolling down the crowded market corner and studying each vendor’s stand, leaving each with no business. Finally he came to my place in the row of merchants and stopped. I read in his face that this was his deliberate stop from the beginning and that I was the only person he intended to do business with this day. For a few minutes I felt so stunned by his gaze I could not do anything but stare back at him. Finally he spoke, in the sort of raspy voice one would expect to emit from one who had walked the earth for so many years,

“What is it you want most out of your life, my friend? What would grant you immeasurable happiness and pleasure?” His eyes wandered from mine. “Or who?”

His face exhibited such a knowing expression, such an intimate stare, a look that told me he already knew the answer my mind held without me even breathing a word. This stranger knew me too well.

“First, who are you?” I questioned, waving my hand toward him then running it through my matted brown hair, “and how do you know me?”

“I know of you, Janus,” wheezed the reply from the old man’s lips. Words seemed hard for him. “I asked the others,” he gestured to the rival merchants scattered along the road. “They say you are an herbalist and chemist amongst them. They don’t seem too fond of you or your choice of profession. You are their pariah”

At this I shook my head in agreement, “They fail to see my occupation as of any use to them, and they exclude me for it. They are mindless fools. My remedies can do much.”

The older of us two leaned in close, “And you have seen these…remedies of yours accomplish what you claim they can?”

He smiled at this query. He was trying to get me to admit something he already knew. Of course I had never been afflicted with what my mixtures supposedly cured: syphilis, boils, broken bones, tuberculosis, or menstruation pain. But how could he tell? How could he know this much about me already after spending naught but five minutes with me? I did not respond to this inquiry. I did not have to.

“I see that you have not witnessed these so-called cures used to any success.”

I am not sure why, but the old man’s words stung. Although he was only innocently questioning, he seemed to have brought down my entire business with mere words, although it is not as if it were actually a thriving business. Stranger or not, I could not lie to the man.

My words barely escaped my mouth a whimper, “These mixtures are only what the books I read tell me they are. If no one will use them, how will I know their success or failure?”

As it was a rhetorical question, I did not expect any reply. There was silence for a minute or so. The man spoke again,

“Show me these books you speak of.”

I was slightly taken aback at his forwardness. Here was someone I had met ten minutes ago; I did not even know his name, and now he wanted to enter my house to view my most prized possessions, essentially the only real items of worth I could claim as my own, except for the clothes I now wore. Still, he did seem genuinely interested in me and my work, albeit a little presumptuous.

I countered back, “First, you will tell me who you are. I still have not decided if I trust you.”

“Very well,” he replied coolly, giving a small bow. “I am Gaspar. I am a wise man from the Far East. I am well-learned in many arts and trades. I know of your plight, and I wish to aid you in your poverty and ultimate goal. I promise to help.”

A beggar couldn’t have pleaded for a superior motive. Still, I was a bit uneasy. This man literally knew me, though I had never seen him before today. My eyes flittered about the area, looking for an excuse to not have to escort him to my property.

“Sir, I welcome your support, but let us wait until the festival ends. Its completion draws near, and so I do not wish to abandon my booth.”

His words came piercing back, icy and merciless, “Does business suddenly thrive come nightfall? Do you fear thievery of your useless products? Or do you simply linger in order to watch fellow merchant after another laugh his fill at you as they leave, their pockets lined with the gold you wished you yourself had earned? What do you stand to gain by remaining here a second longer?”

Without a doubt Gaspar was right. There was nothing for me here; I was deceiving myself, making excuses. I started down the road and beckoned to him to follow me to my abode outside the settlement.

My home was nothing more than a hollowed-out opening dug into the side of a large mound standing about ten feet tall in an uneven parcel of land near my city’s northern border, an area reserved for the exiles of our town. Lack of rainfall had hardened the outside of the hill and inner layers preventing collapse and allowing me to enter and exit with no fear of injury. For an outsider, though, I lived reasonably more comfortable than the majority of my kind. I owned my own undersized cot to sleep upon and bowls and pestles with which to mix my medicines. A modest, crudely-carved wooden table stood nearby with a hunk of dry bread and a jar of pilfered water resting upon it, my ration for the week. The scent of ground herbs hung in the air like a secondary atmosphere.

I could tell this must have been uncomfortable for Gaspar, for he let out a nervous chuckle and coughed. “Impressive,” he managed, glancing my way with an anxious grin.

In no mood for small talk I snapped back angrily, “You have no right to patronize me, stranger! I know I live meager, but at the very least I am attempting to better my situation!” I backed towards another side of the room. “Let me get those books you wanted so you can help me do that,” I growled.

My alchemy and herbalist books appeared to have been printed in a period where those subjects were studied with great interest. With frayed edges and missing pages, my ancient tomes seemed to have been read more times than days I had been alive. My books were both a tremendous joy and immense pain to me. Learning was my passion, so naturally understanding them brought me happiness; however, they were a gift from Marah when my learning was complete, so with each word perceived, memories of Jael flooded back into my thoughts, and concentration was far removed. I handed them reluctantly to Gaspar.

As he thumbed through the yellowing paper, I attempted to maintain conversation. “I know the answer,” I said plainly.

“To what question?” he replied, not looking up.

“The one you asked me at our meeting.” I folded my arms. “About what could possibly make me happiest in this world.”

“I seem to recall,” muttered the old man, still engrossed in his reading, “Your response?”

Jael of course was the answer, but this man did not need to know that. Besides, I needed money to free her, and Gaspar had promised to assist me with my current financial situation. If I could accomplish nothing save obtain enough money to liberate my love away from her owner and into my arms, my life would come to fruition. I needed whatever handout I could attain from this so-called wise man.

“Success,” the reply came at last. “I do not desire to live in this poverty anymore. Wealth is my ultimate aspiration.” I felt no wrong in lying to this man.

Suddenly Gaspar slammed shut the volume he was looking over fiercely. Startled, I stepped back a few feet to distance myself from this unpredictable old hermit. He had the look of a madman. Slowly he raised one wrinkled, knobby finger and pointed it straight at my heart, boring through my deceit, to unearth the reality.

“Liar!” he yelled hoarsely. “That answer had no ounce of truth in it, brigand! Your want is for the love of a woman. One you care for deeply.”

Tears that had been held in their ducts for years finally came free. Cool droplets streamed down my face, much as they did when she was stolen from me. I buried my face in my hands.

“Yes,” I admitted, my voice quivering with grief. “Her name is Jael, the daughter of a slave woman.”

“You were robbed of her, no?” uttered Gaspar. “Forced away by her possessor while you stood watching her vanish into the horizon?”

With a solemn nod and sigh I hung my head low against my chest. This was also to conceal an expression of bewilderment on my face. I had said nothing of Jael’s relocation. Again he surprised me with his expertise in my history. The only means by which he could know these details would be if he observed me my whole life. I was becoming more and more entranced and suspicious of this wise man with each minute that passed. I needed questions answered.

Before I could speak, however, Gaspar carelessly tossed the frail books onto the dirt, spewing out torn sheets and dust clouds into the air. With a cry of alarm, I scrambled to retrieve all the loose pages that fluttered about my hovel and avoid inhalation of the airborne powdery earth.

Coughing aloud, I demanded angrily, “Why would you do such a thing?”

“They are outdated,” Gaspar claimed, not blinking. “It is no wonder you could not produce an effective cure for anything.”

“Outdated? You mean to tell me that there are more…contemporary materials available?” I grumbled sarcastically.

“I suppose you could say that.”

He reached into the folds of his tattered robe and produced another Volume. This one appeared to be much newer, with no page torn and no edge frayed. The embossed title glared at me with shining silver letters: Proin Curandis , The Curing Magic. Instinctively I reached for the strange Work, but then retracted my hand back to its place at my side. Not now.

It was time to challenge the wise man, “Who are you, really?” I pointed accusingly at him, “How do you know my being so intimately, when I have never before even seen your face in my entire life?”

To say the absolute least, at this Gaspar changed. First, growing several feet, he soon towered over me as his slightly arched back straightened and his body strengthened. His elderly visage seemed to vanish as years melted off his appearance, and his beard receded away. His hair blazed from a dull gray to an overwhelming blond. His eyes changed into a virulent white that completely eradicated his pupils and irises. Gone was the feeble, old man I had met hours ago, replaced by the most frightening being I had ever seen. Standing before me was some terrible, supernatural giant, a paradox of reality that would certainly destroy me.

“Foolish mortal!” boomed the voice of the creature. “You think you know much, but in reality your knowledge is a grain of sand as compared to the immortals! You want to know me, Janus? Look upon one who has walked the earth for millennia!”

Although frozen with terror, my mouth seemed to act of its own accord. I heard “What are you?” escape from my lips, and I quickly put my hand over my mouth to stifle my words. He heard.

“What am I?” At this he laughed, a gentle chuckle, but nevertheless one that vibrated the ground beneath my feet.

“Seeing who I am truly would melt the very flesh from your bones! I am a Mhailari (my lar ee). You might call me an angel, a son of the Gods of Heaven!”

Amazing! I had been told of the Mhailari as a child by Marah. They were divine beings born of the very substance of the gods, created at their whim at the beginning of time. Perfect and mighty like their creators, they stood in alliance with those who followed the Gods’ commands, defending them from wickedness, although I never believed they were actually real. Still, this certainly explained his knowledge of me. However benevolent this creature may be though, still I feared for my life as I knelt before my lord. Hopefully this display of respect would postpone whatever judgment awaited me at the hand of this Son of God.

His visage seemed to soften, and his vigorous eyes seemed gentler than when I first beheld them.

“Rise, son of the earth,” commanded Gaspar with more authority than I had ever seen any authority from my village execute. “Your cries to Heaven have never been ignored. This Book is for your benefit. You have our permission to market the treatments found within this text. Use it to your best ability, but I warn you. Nearly all the cures in this text are beneficial, but there is one that outshines them all and promises success to its user. However, this spell is clearly marked as malicious. If such evil magic is carried out, it will come at great cost.”

“If such enchantment is so malevolent, why is it labeled as medicines and placed in the Book alongside the beneficial ones?” More and more confusion coursed through my mind. This information was so much for my limited brain to comprehend.

“Think of it as the definitive test for a mortal,” the angel explained. “The Masters wish to see how obedient their servant is, and how attuned he is to the will of good, or if he wishes above all else his own personal gain.”

My thoughts prioritized Jael, and my fright dissipated for a moment. “I do not understand,” I braved, “Why would the Gods answer my prayer for help with a test?”

“Their purpose is above yours,” countered the Mhailari. “They have consented to aid you. That should be sufficient for you.”

Silently I nodded my approval. Of course he was right. I was in no position to start making any demands, especially any to this spiritual being or whoever commanded him.

“May the wisdom of our divine rulers guide your decisions in this matter,” Gaspar’s words were gentle as he bade me farewell. “I wish nothing but happiness in whatever you undertake. That is my greatest desire.” He smiled Jael’s wonderful smile: perfect, selfless, and loving. Suddenly he disappeared gradually from my vision and before long, only one stood in my earthen home. The strange Book, however, remained, lying on the ground where the majestic being once stood.

I cautiously approached the strange text and picked it up. It seemed to radiate from inside with an unearthly glow. Chills came over my body just from holding it. I opened it to the first page, anxious to see what the alien volume contained.

Cures and treatments of all kinds lay before me; nearly every ailment my people had a word for was listed. Anxiously I began reading from the beginning of the volume, soaking in every word. Overtime I would become familiar with the Book, both its language and its contents except for the Forbidden. Herein these mystic arts was the tool, the key to rescuing my beloved. I only needed an opportunity, a starting point.

My chance arose several weeks later. The first customer was a reluctant one, a well-respected and wealthy member of my community. He had been suffering from extreme pain in his extremities. His pain was so severe that during the day he would often fall to the ground wailing from the acute stinging or awaken himself and everyone near him in the middle of the night with his cries. This unfortunate man’s family had exhausted much of their wealth on doctors, who were able to diagnose his aching as a lethal blood disease, but could not do much else save make him comfortable for his passing. Out of alternatives, his morose family turned to the last option they had left, me.

I remember how I stared at the messenger they sent in astonishment when he told me I was being summoned for business. He shrugged his shoulders as if he could not believe it either. None of them believed in herbal remedies so naturally this decision was made by skeptical and reluctant people, but they truthfully had no other choice. Oh, how I cringed as I thought about how their stabbing, judgmental eyes would pour scrutiny upon me with every movement of my hands, with every breath I took. This would be the Curing Magic’s first test, and, although the heavenly visit was still fresh in my mind, I was still doubtful that these spells could accomplish anything.

Bringing nothing but the ancient Book and what I would need to produce the desired medicine, I hesitantly followed the messenger to the sick man’s home. The richness of the architecture and various costly ornaments showed me someone who cared about his possessions, and my thoughts drifted to the selfish, rich brute who robbed me of my precious love, and for a second, I despised this man I had come to cure. I loathed that he lived in this exquisite place, and I lived in a hole. I detested all he stood for and all he cared about. Suddenly Jael’s gray eyes shattered my hate, and images of her flooded my mind. My purpose renewed, I quietly greeted the family and then set myself to work.

As I hunted through the old Book for the spell I would use, I could not help but notice the Forbidden. It seemed to stand out in the volume, much like it was a tome all its own. I could feel my eyes staring at the unopened section of evil text like a famished child yearning for a piece of bread. My mind screamed at me to open it, to read it, just to catch a glimpse of the words. The illicit section was separated from the majority of the Book by a binding that resembled animal hide in color and consistency. One would merely need to break this seal in order to study its contents. The allure it possessed was all too enticing, but not now. I shook my head clear of its unclean desire and shot a glance toward my benefactors. They had not taken their eyes off of me since I had entered the house. Nervously I exhaled bottled-up anxiety and tore my gaze from theirs and back to the important, nay, crucial task at hand.

Making a healing potion is not too difficult once you have made a few; it becomes like second nature, although great care must be taken to producing the desired result. Essentially, there are three main parts to creating it. First, your ingredients must be absolutely correct. An incorrect berry or a root harvested at the wrong time can mean the difference between correcting a problem or making it worse. Secondly, the mixture must be stirred precisely and carefully. Spilling could not be tolerated in the very least, and also could affect the outcome of the ill person. Finally, there can be no hesitation. Once the potion is complete, it must be drunk. Otherwise, the potion may spoil, drastically and negatively altering its effects. A single mistake, even one considered trivial, could in all possibility prove fatal.

Once I finished the potion, I brought it in a flask before the ailing man. Reluctantly he took it from me and ingested its contents. A few minutes passed unceremoniously. Suddenly he gasped loudly, and looked at me with horror in his eyes, as if I had dealt him the killing blow, but then quickly it passed, and color returned to his pallid face. He sighed and leaned back against his pillow, a smile slowly forming on his face as he drifted into carefree rest. Behind me, I heard the relief and joy escape from his relatives, and I knew I had succeeded. One of them, an older man, took me by the arm and began to discuss matters of my payment. Immediately I knew I loved success.

Another year passed; each day possessed its own challenges, curses, and rewards, and I finally emerged victorious. The Gods had indeed blessed me, and the unknown Book, now familiar to me, had certainly proved its worth. I finally could pay to rescue my precious love, and newfound success had afforded other luxuries, among these a comfortable home, a horse, and sufficient food. I had much to be thankful for this festival. Above all else, the time had come at long last.

Eager anticipation coursed through me when I discovered where Tycho had made his home. If all went according to plan, Jael would soon be where she belonged, where she would be loved and appreciated, not treated like anything less than human. For a moment I wondered what the old man Gaspar would say if he saw me now. I offered a short prayer to the Gods in thankfulness for their most selfless granting of Proin Curandis to me. A fiery determination seized me; this would be the perfect use made of their gift. The intended purpose would be accomplished.

My imagination conjured thoughts of Tycho completely taken aback at my arrival at his estate, possessing a wealth equal to his own, this being the first time he would lay eyes on me since his injustice when I was young.

“Was this the simple street urchin I scorned so many years ago?” he would say in disbelief. “The dirty outcast at whom I laughed when I tore the girl from his grasp?”

I would demand my love and return to my home victorious and live out my days in bliss, a family man with a profession now well-respected. My one true love would be my bride, and I would awaken to her beauty each morning. Children would be borne to me, possessing my name, my intelligence, my triumph. My future seemed as bright as the sun burning up the blue in the skies. I drank well to my future success that night.

It was a three day journey from my town to that of the demon’s, so I would need to plan accordingly. I packed food and water, enough for my horse, Angros, Jael, and myself, along with a spare cloak, a woolen blanket, the Book, which had scarcely left my side since my first success, and, of course, all the gold I possessed, my lavish token to Jael’s freedom. Saddling Angros, I whispered quiet farewells to the new home I had come to love, then with a swift kick to my horse’s side, began my tedious ride.

The terrain of the area was mostly flat, blank dirt stretching for miles with white rocks dotting the hard earth, although patches of grass sparsely painted the landscape with splashes of virulent green against the brown. Occasionally the sun reflected off of small pools of stagnant water, shooting beams into my eyes and forcing me to shield them. I did not altogether complain. After all, at least there was rainfall this year. Too often rain was a missed rarity in these lands.

The first night was marked by the fire, which I miraculously was able to start using a few sticks and some brush. Its heat was a welcome guest, but fortunately the air did not grow too cold in the location. I made my camp against a small, soft knoll draped in grass incredibly devoid of stones. When I finally lay down, sleep came over me quickly. I did not dream explicitly, but a strange assortment of colors and shapes danced through my thoughts. At one point I thought I could almost see words, although I did not understand their meaning. Suddenly, as if by death, all images dissolved to a thick black.

Awakening at dawn was not a practice I normally followed, but obviously I could not stand to stay asleep, nor could I afford to. Glancing toward the eastern horizon, I could see the sun barely peaking over the distant mountains. I did not allow my mind to linger on the dream of the night before. I ate a quick sustaining meal and, after ensuring my steed was nourished, together we continued our trek.

My horse was a wonderful blessing; he had great endurance and seemed to love to be ridden. I had on multiple occasions thanked the man I obtained Angros from for the apparently superior raising and training he had given. Each time the man appeared none the wiser, giving me the ever-increasing feeling he gave no such guidance to this creature, and that this animal was yet another gift from the gods.

Today’s journey was commonplace save for the evening sighting of some wolves devouring the carcass of some unrecognizable prey. Obviously involved in the meal at hand, the beasts paid us no mind. Angros and I, both terribly weary, retired early that night. He had borne me nearly all day, and I did not wish him to be overworked, especially since he would have the unwelcome burden of two riders on the return journey. Fire came easier that night, and I was soon off again to the haven of slumber.

That night’s sleep was again full and deep. In my dreams, the letters reappeared and began to clarify amidst the swirling reds, yellows, and greens splashed upon my mind. I immediately noticed the words, “Sempiternus,” “Not Dying,” as clear as a summer’s day. I knew the words, but I hadn’t the faintest idea as to why I was seeing them in my subconscious. Nigh immediately as if to answer myself, a picture of the open Curing Magic Book materialized in the background, “Sempiternus” painted on its white pages. At this I became puzzled as I had never seen these words in conjunction with the book. Suddenly, without warning, a vision of a skull pervaded the entire scene, its hollow death mask infiltrating my thoughts, and empty eyes violating my very soul. Then flames erupted and scorched everything to nothing.

I awoke in a cold sweat; a nightmare. I hadn’t had a nightmare in a decade, not since Jael was taken. My heart fluttered as I attempted in vain to shake the vision of death from my head. What did it mean? What was the significance of “Sepiternus?” Why was my book involved? And the skull? Questions without answers multiplied within my brain, and the cool, silence of the black night did nothing to pacify my aroused fears. Using the fire’s soft glow as light, I flipped open Proin Curandis to take my mind off of the horrible dream. Eerily and mechanically passing familiar treatments and ones I hadn’t yet tried, I finally came to the Forbidden. As though I were merely a controlled marionette, I drew the knife I had kept at my side for defense and held the blade to the leather binding locking the vile contents. Gaspar’s warning blared in my mind, but it seemed I was determined. One second of hesitation seemed to extend for days, and then suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my chest that chilled my blood. My breath stopped and my eyes snapped shut, terrified at what I might have done. My body tensed as I anticipated some divine punishment, a just retribution for my blatant offense. But minutes passed, and I was still here. Perhaps I had not actually done it! Maybe it was all odd conjecture due to my fatigue and wild emotions. Glancing down, I held my breath once more.

Sure enough, the strap was severed by my blade, allowing for access to the Forbidden. Unfettered, I could freely peruse the so-called “forbidden” text. Sheathing my knife, I slowly, but deliberately turned the first page. The title of the prohibited spell glared up at me, and my eyes widened in disbelief: “Semptiernus.” “Undying.” Before me was the recipe for the elixir of eternal life! This potion was intended to prolong the body, not free of illness or ailment, but indefinitely! How could this be in any way considered wrong or undesirable? Granting humanity eternal life should be a commendable goal, not a damnable sin. Why would the Gods withhold something this beneficial from mankind?

I read on. Preparation for the tonic was amateurish; its ingredients rather basic save one – the final ingredient on the list - which was strangely obscure:

“Finally, to create the elixir of life, the concoctor must surrender that which to him proves most important. To reverse this potion’s effect-“

Here I scoffed. What man would settle for a mortal life when eternity was within grasp? I continued my read.

“To reverse this potion’s effect, the sacrifice must be remade.”

These instructions were confusing. How could one destroy his most prized possession, then do it again? And why would he?

Closing the Book, which now seemed ridiculous to me, a felt a spirit of condescension come over me towards it. Although I had accomplished much with its aid, to be warned against this spell, only for it to be so absurd, made me feel foolish. Perhaps I would look into that spell someday, though I felt more disinclined to forget it completely. Besides, more was at stake than some fanciful child’s potion. Reclining once more, I closed my eyes and again surrendered to rest.

Growing up, I would often hear the old men in my village faux-philosophizing in the marketplace. As I would meander about searching for scraps of food, I would also try to listen in on their conversation. Often it was concerning ideas about the Gods or concepts of the afterlife, but once their discussion was about dreams. One of the graybeards said that man always dreams when he sleeps; the mind never ceases, although the memory does not always recall it. He claimed that those dreams which we do store are remembered with purpose. “The Gods must have something to tell you. Pay attention,” he declared. His words had struck some invisible chord within me.

If that assertion were true, then the Gods were undeniably trying to tell me something, for I dreamed yet again. Familiar images of my previous nightmare emerged and vanished. Then Jael appeared, her raven eyes staring at me. However, she was neither excited at my arrival, nor joyous at her release from slavery. Those once beautiful eyes were now vacant and weak. She was dying! Her eyes bored into me with pain, and I felt claws tighten around my throat. Without warning she screamed, and as I awoke, I realized that the scream had become my own.

Passing Fads of My Youth #4: Beanie Babies

2011-04-21T15:48:00.000-07:00

Ah, the legendary Beanie Babies. If you lived through the 90's, you knew them well. Honestly, I could not wait to talk about these guys because they literally make the least amount of sense. Essentially they were a small, plastic pellet-filled work of art, purely aesthetic with absolutely no purpose whatsoever. They fostered addiction and wanton spending turning normally good-natured elderly women and soccer moms into Medusas hell-bent on destroying any and all obstacles (including people) preventing them from obtaining every last one of them.

In 1993, the people over at Ty Incorporated decided to manufacture a new type of crack cocaine; one that they could market to consumers of all ages with no fear of retaliation. Thus, the Beanie Baby was born:

A typical 90's drug shipment.

Their appeal widely unknown, Beanie Babies quickly became hot sellers worldwide, hypnotizing the masses into believing that Legs was a good name for a stuffed frog (it is, they were geniuses). They invaded popular culture faster than D-Day.

"You think they'll have the one that's a moose?"

Collectible stores and Hallmarks sold out overnight. Fast food restaurants began carrying them as promotions. Special bears were created to commemorate events or particular individuals. They became as deeply embedded in culture as anything else.

What better way to remember the late Princess of Wales?

They were so popular that people even began to counterfeit them! The FBI cracked down on counterfeit beanies in the late 1990s, and some people were prosecuted for direct known involvement in their commerce. There was a ring in York, England, that was uncovered with over 6,000 fake bears.

This used to seem so lucrative...

I must confess that I too fell prey to the charm of these collectibles, and my vast collection of them still reside in storage. To this day, I could not tell you why I bought so many. But perhaps no one could put it better than Joe Fucigna, the current world record holder for owner of most Beanie babies: 14,346, "They bring peace and happiness to the world and they keep me company. They are the best friends anyone can ask for. Everyone should have 7 rooms filled with beanie babies."

Oh, God....

Bible Time: John 10 (emphasis v. 30)

2011-01-18T15:38:00.000-08:00

http://www.gnpcb.org/esv/search/?q=John+10

Jesus Christ lived his life to an extent that no one ever has. He routinely challenged the so-called intellectuals of his day, and he angered the spiritual leaders of his people greatly. Yet, he was more intellectual than any other, and more spiritual than any other, and he gained many followers. What he did he do on one hand to gain such a following, and yet despite that, segregate himself from those who could catapult him into a highly profitable and influential lifestyle? The truth is that Jesus himself was radical from the mindset of his opponents. He taught differently, with an authority that no one else had. Jesus taught increasingly challenging and almost crazy sounding sermons, like love your enemies, pray in secret, and forgiving others without limit. He spent his time with the pariahs and untouchables of his society: the lepers, the sinners, the tax collectors, the prostitutes. He healed disease, exorcised demons, and even claimed to be able to forgive sins! This man was truly unique among all other men who have ever walked the earth. And he was either who he said he was, or he was a lunatic. On closer reading of the Gospels, one truly deciphers the source of all Jesus taught, said, and did; the true source of his power. I believe it is found in John 10. Jesus says, "The Father and I are one." Jesus' relationship with God his Father took precedence over all other things so much so that it spilled out into all areas of life. Jesus knew his Father. Jesus knew that the Father is love, so Jesus sought to live out that love, culminating in his death on the cross. Jesus knew that the Father is grace, so he was gracious to all men, even those who had never known grace. He knew his Father was just, so he lovingly, yet firmly judged sin. All his life, I believe Jesus was conscious of who he was, and what he was meant to do. Therefore, his relationship with the Father was essential. This is why Jesus goes to pray by himself, why he seeks to spend time with his Father, because Jesus understood where his strength came from. He knew how much, in his human state, how dependent he was on the Holy Spirit. What is my excuse for not seeking the Spirit's power!?! I want to emulate Christ. This is what I want in my walk with God. I want to see my time with God as so essential, that my life should revolve around him, instead of me trying to squeeze God into a little five minute time window and call it prayer or quiet time. Oh how I have sinned in this, time after time. I don't want to be like a driver in a car, just putting a dollar or two's worth of gas into the tank, and then hoping I can make it to the next gas station. I want to be filled!!!! But just like Jesus said to the woman caught in adultery, "Go and sin no more," I know God has mercy for me. Let's pray for God to instill that hunger for his Word and his Spirit in us. Let's pray for that desire to overwhelm us, just like it did our Lord while he was on earth.

long time

2010-11-02T09:57:00.001-07:00

HELLO AGAIN!

It's been a while! I just want everyone to know, I am not dead. More stuff coming.

Love,
Stephen

Bible Time: Judges 17

2010-04-20T13:28:00.000-07:00

I don't know how many of you have done this yet, but I just got finished listening to "Ten Shekels and a Shirt," the famous sermon by Paris Reidhead, I think for the fourth time, and it was just as convicting as ever.

For those of you who aren't familiar, this sermon is available at:

http://www.sermonindex.net/modules/mydownloads/singlefile.php?lid=282

His text comes from Judges 17 and 18, and he begins with the story of a man named Micah. Micah made himself some idols and an ephod; he made his own little temple. One day he met a Levite man sojourning from Judah and asked him to be his priest, hoping for God's favor for employing a Levite. He offered to pay the man the annual sum of ten shekels of silver and a shirt, a good sum of money. The man accepted, being content to commit idolatry for the wages he would receive.

He challenges by saying that this attitude is adopted by so many "Christians" of the day under the guise of humanism. Humanism says that the happiness of man is the chief goal. So many of us use God as a means to bring about our own happiness, either in this life or the next. We either serve God because we use him to cope or succeed in this life, or because we are scared to suffer in the afterlife.

The reason for salvation, according to Reidhead (and I agree), is that it is the only way God can get glory out a human being. We serve God, not because he can do something for us, but because he is worthy!!!

I have struggled with selfishness in my own Christianity, served God to see what I can get out it, and hearing my sin preached against is always convicting. I shouldn't serve God because of what I can get out of him, it should be what he gets out of me; I should serve God because he is worthy to be served, and though I don't deserve anything from him, he has redeemed me with his precious blood and called me his child. Even if I was sent to hell at the end of my life, because God knows I deserve to be, it does not change the fact that God is holy and sovereign and mighty and deserves the highest praise and adoration. He is worthy!

I encourage you all to listen to this life-changing sermon if you haven't already and even if you have.

Monthly Poems: March

2010-03-31T23:34:00.000-07:00

all poems by Stephen Byrne

"Koninklijke Luchtvaart Maatschappij"

Spiteful shadows lie in wait,
And quiet hides a killer.
Death constructs an empty space,
And murder serves as filler.
For all the moments spent alone
And all the miles apart
Stab my soul with silent blades
And pierce my distant heart.
The next best thing to being there
Is knowing where you are,
Yet chasms spanning oceans prove
Regrettably too far.
Despite endearing sentiment
A failure yet again.
By time zones and kilometers
Potential love is slain.
//

"empty"

You're so much better than this,
Too good to be this demeaned,
So consumed by hungry eyes
Raped by so much lust.
Yet you let it happen - you want it to happen.
Are you that starved for love,
That in wanting for affection?
Or has the root of all evil choked you
For the promise of comfortable lifestyle?
Either way, darkness has gripped your soul
But there is He who loved the whole world
That He cried for it, prayed for it, lived for it, bled for it
You are so empty, and He wants to fill
All you have to do is let Him
//

"Venus"

Poison drips from honey tongue
Hands so soft that grate your skin
Angelic voice, a siren's song
And raven eyes conceal her sin

For though her features have no rival
And all about her seems divine,
Beneath her surface lies deceit,
And all her motives breathe malign.
//

"Seeking Virgil's Seat"

Vigorous lines explode onto white
SOMETHING appears from nothing
An outpouring of my own bidding.
As I sit here uncomfortably
contemplating
Perusing over my own thoughts
Unsure
Of what to make of them
Certainty seems all too elusive
And order strikes me as altogether Ch AOtI c.
As time drags on, minutes melting together
Into one inconceivablyeternalmoment.
I cannot help but think of you, your face,
Your name illuminated in the darkness of my mind.
//

"Rector Mihi, O Sol Invictus!"

Horizons broadening -
A stream of light in the distance
Beckons like a woman thinly clad
Reaching into the deep recesses of the mind
Delving down into the desires of the heart
Shine on, O Beacon -
Tantalize, charm, enrapture,
Snare the soul that longs
Journey begins, arduous roads
Ripe with pitfalls, laden with dangers
Hidden and obvious, but no matter

I am taken to it, like a moth to flame
Though it sets me ablaze, still I follow.
//

All poems by Stephen Byrne
Copyright 2010

Passing Fads of My Youth #3: Tamagotchis

2010-02-16T17:42:00.000-08:00

Ok, I am about to state a fact that cannot be refuted. If you lived through the majority of the 90's, you either had one, or you wanted one. You don't know why you wanted one, you only knew you had to have one. This was something that could not be described in mere words, it was something that the very fabric of existence seemed to rest upon... .

All hail.

Ah, the effervescent glory that was Tamagotchi. These small elliptical toys were all the rage amongst the kids my age when I was about 6th grade. Like iPods are to Mp3 players, Tamagotchis were the start of a growing phenomenon known as digital pets, or electronic creatures that you had to spend every waking minute taking care of. Basically, it was like having a real-life baby that didn't share your eyes, beeped at you instead of crying, and looked like the spawn of two or more random animals.

This one is a ducktopus. It has wings on its head.

These small abominations of nature were so lifelike, they required you to feed them at any and all hours of the day, such as 3 AM or 11 PM. You know, when normal people eat. They would get tired and alarm you that they were tired, at which point you would put them to bed, although this tended to happen exactly in the middle of class. To further the realism, these mutant time-wasters would also upon eating their daily meal would defecate upon the screen.

Adorable.

After this lovely act, you would be required to flush away their stool; otherwise, you would risk them getting sick, although them getting sick from their poop brings up other images that I'm sure the creators thought of. Once they got sick, you would be required you to administer medicine to them in the form of an intravenous needle, which may or may not have given children the wrong idea about antibiotics...or syringes.

Look at all this medicine!

Every so often, if you raised your creature well, he would change into a more advanced version, or "evolve." There was no advantage to this, as stronger, bigger Tamagotchis required even more attention than the younger stages, thus demanding more of your time and making you have less of a life than the miniscule one you already enjoyed. If you didn't raise your digital pet well (i.e. played video games, read a book, or did anything but look at the Tamagotchi every five seconds), he would "pass on" (die) to Tamagotchi heaven, which I hear is a lot like our heaven, only slightly more egg-shaped.

Tamagotchi angel.

Tamagotchi also helped give rise to the later popular Digimon, Virtua Pets, and Giga Pets franchises, cementing its place in American society. Despite their time-consuming capabilities and demanding existances, Tamagotchis taught us important lessons about the miracles of life and the raising of children. Most specifically if you don't check on your baby every fifteen seconds, something bad will probably happen.

He'll be ok for just a minute...

Bible Time: James 1

2010-01-25T21:28:00.000-08:00

James 1 speaks a lot of lessons to me, but upon contemplation and reflection I find v 6-8 to be the most convicting. He writes, "But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways." Too often I pray and ask God for something or I pray his will be done in my life, and then when I receive an answer, particularly an answer I do not like, I change my mind and decide to do things my way or I twist what God says to fit my own devious machinations. How can I expect God to give me anything if I don't trust him enough to provide it!? When I pray, am I sincere? If not, what is prayer if not simply talking to the ceiling? Moreover, how can I forgo the will of Almighty God for some petty human tactic. Am I really unwise enough to believe that I, in my limited knowledge and vision, am a better planner than an omnipotent, omniscient God? Surely he has reasoning beyond my comprehension for what he commands. I laugh aloud at my own foolishness, yet I continue to struggle with this all too often. What can I do to change this? First, I must pray with sincerity for the faith to trust the Lord that because his ways are not my ways, they are the best ways. Second, I must actually act in obedience to what he says to do; this is what he commanded. Thirdly, through this, it is important to realize I am not alone in these experiences, and God has provided me with a body of believers from whom to draw upon experience, encouragement, and wisdom. SB

I Am Your Gardener - preview of my next short story

2010-01-18T21:25:00.000-08:00

The mind is a tenuous instrument, so fragile, and when it breaks, the consequences are dire, sometimes tragic, and sometimes murderous. These consequences are the stuff of legends and tales told around a summer’s campfire when the ghastly moon hangs full in the nighttime sky. The pitiable fools who share these stories have no idea of the words they speak, the severity of each syllable they convey to their companions. If they only knew, they would not be so brash.

“I am your gardener.” Each word that echoes inside her mind is a piercing syringe, injecting her with inconceivable fear. Poison courses through her blood, destroying everything that was her innocence. And he held the needle that contained the venom. It was him. He killed them.

It had been a prosperous year for the Maclays. James Maclay had finally found the success in finance he had been waiting for, and was able to move his family into their dream house, an 1787 French Colonial, standing blue and white in the serenity of a secluded area all their own. Maclay was proud to finally offer his family something he felt they had always deserved. The house, though more extravagant than what the Maclays were used to, still possessed a spirit of homeliness, albeit a bit eerie. Architecturally wondrous, it stood two stories tall, complete with balconies, a dance hall, and its very own outdoor garden. The garden was perhaps the home’s choicest feature, as one could lose himself wandering its blooming flowers and shady trees for hours, merely experiencing nature. With its great beauty though came an awful demand of time and labor that practically begged for a caretaker.

So began his search for the perfect gardener, one who would pour as much dedication and concern into the plants as James had into his family. One who called gardening his art.

Passing Fads of My Youth #2: Yo-Yos

2009-08-06T21:11:00.000-07:00

My real father...in a dream once.

Ah, the ever popular yo-yo. Many a recess did I spend perfecting tricks with any one of my three weapons of choice: a Duncan Imperial, a Playmaxx Butterbee, or a Yomega Brain, essentially a triumvirate of awe and glory. These toys were designed so you could show off in front of your friends. They weren't even that fun, or cool for that matter.

Smell the cool.

If you failed a trick, you may as well kill yourself and be saved from a lot of trouble because you'll never live it down, akin to shooting an air ball at a basketball game; everybody just shouts, "Air ball!" at you the rest of the game, and you end up missing every shot. If you didn't pour your heart and soul into yo-yo mastery, there was no point. It was like a zen art-form for elementary school students; you had to mind-meld with the toy, become one with it.

One with the yo

Essentially, to the non-yo master, the goal of yo-yo is to do as many insane things with the yo-yo in one "sleep" as is humanly (or robotically) possible. "Sleeping" the yo-yo is when the user engages his yo-yo so that when the yo-yo reaches the end of the string it spins in place rather than rolling back up the string to the thrower's hand. This opens the door to many other tricks, explained in detail here, like "rock the baby," seen below,which, by the way, ladies, I can perform.

hot.

While yo-yos proved to be a trusty staple of 5th-8th grade for me, they were very prone to becoming lost and/or broken and/or lost and broken at the same time, and, no, I don't know how that last one works. But hate them or love them, yo-yos have etched themselves into our memories and the very history of America.

Morning Star, Pt. II

2009-08-03T17:57:00.000-07:00

by Stephen Byrne

Thy pride hath blinded, thee, O Morning Star.
Thy own hatred hath pulled the wool over thine eyes.
For I AM WHO I AM, and this shan't be undone,
Who was and is and will forever be so.
Didst thou thinkest thou could ascend to My throne?
Thou art a fool, and thy punishment is meted.
Thou art cursed to the earth, to inhabit it,
To walk amongst the creation you despise.
And though thou leadest all I love towards destruction,
The worst of Sheoul is reserved for thee.
Bosoms of fire are stored up for thee.
Lakes of flame shall be thy abode.
And though in that day, thou shalt desire Me
My face shall be eternally turned away.
Mine eyes be blinded to thy suffering,
And Mine ears deafened to thy cries of pain.
As for My children, thy enemies, thy prey.
I Myself shall free them from thy claws.
Thou wouldst destroy them, but I love them!
And I shall do what must be done to save them.
Thou will laugh in that day, for thy victory seemeth sure,
But eternal victory is Mine, for I am the LORD!!
Thou thinkest to ascend to be a god, but nay,
There is but one God, one Ruler of heaven, one Master,
And He is not created but forever.
Thou art naught but a work of Mine hands.
What share dost thou have in My regality?
What dominion can thou hold over heaven?
My foe thou wilt be, but not My equal.
Do not be mistaken, thy defeat is sure,
But with my decision, not thine own.
Thus saith the LORD God of hosts.

Camp Poetry

2009-08-02T22:59:00.000-07:00

A few poems I wrote at camp

by Stephen Byrne

"When God Dies"

Blood streams like rivers of death
Flowing forth from fresh wounds
Dyeing the ground crimson beneath
As the Life slowly ebbs away
Cries of pain shatter the skies
Echoing into the very seat of heaven
Into the very ear of God as He weeps aloud
But He stays his hands
For it is being finished
The great Work of all eternity
What all history has groaned for
And it demands His death.

"To End All Wars"

Trampled in the stale earth
Beset by vicious attack
Left for dead depraved, alone
Wedded to wanton destruction
My eyes scan the heavens
Anticipating some relief
But nothing quenches fire
Raging against my flesh
Questions flood my mind
Yet answers never arrive
Silence is become my bane
Blood my sole brother
As red runs down my arms
Guilty of murder, self-induced
Suicide, for I destroy myself
Isolate from who would help
A fool to the end
A slave to the last.

"An Exploration in Mortality: Part A"

Frightening. Horrifying. Cold.
Macabre darkness overwhelming.
Into terror quickly delving.
Life surrendered, in slav'ry sold.
The blame resides in me alone.
Shame weighs as worlds upon my back.
Soul suff'ring ne'er ending attack.
Sorrow aches sinew and bone.

"Redemption"

Such is my unwelcomed life
Wrought with loneliness and strife
Crippling hurt, beset by grief
Unending pain with no relief
Shunned by fate, embraced by hell
And darkness reigns in every cell
I feel myself be torn apart
A shattered soul, a broken heart
Shuddering with every breath
I long to die, there is no death
My lungs, they heave, my head, it pounds
My heartbeat drolls with empty sounds
Misery is my closest friend
Yet seeks to bring about my end
All that remains is naught to give
This is no life, yet I must live

Passing Fads of My Youth #1: Pogs

2009-06-30T15:58:00.000-07:00

Oh, how I loved pogs! So pointless, yet so appealing!
I think at the height of their popularity I had somewhere around 300, which is nowhere near the amount of the collection of some of my friends, which amassed in the multi-millions I'm sure. What I did possess despite my lack of Pog fortune which was truly great was my slammer, a bronze/bronze-colored/brazen (I'm not really that good with metals) beauty with a black widow engraved on the front, which read, "POISON," on the back. I won many a pog with Widow, my very imaginative nickname for my slammer. You had to have a creative nickname for your slammer. Otherwise, you just weren't cool.

For those of you who did not enjoy pop culture during the 90's, I will treat you to a condensed explanation of the game of pogs. Notice I didn't add the "purpose" of Pogs, because we all well know there isn't one.

First, what are Pogs? Pogs are silver dollar-sized pieces of circular cardboard with a “bodacious” or “sweet” picture on one side and a really boring company logo or motto or just plain cardboard on the other.
OMG Pogs!
The origin of Pogs is traced to nowhere, because nobody really cared enough to research the subject in depth.

Second,what do you need to play? Well, in order to "play" Pogs, one first needs to acquire, well, Pogs, and obviously in numbers reaching the near-thousands, because, frankly, only babies have only like twelve. You also need to get a sick slammer, which is usually a piece of cut metal pipe with an 8-Ball or unicorn engraved into it. A good slammer is the key to ultimate victory.
The catalyst to victory

Third, how do you play? You and a friend each combine an equal amount Pogs from your collection, and place them boring side up in a pile. Then, you each take turns throwing your slammer onto the pile. Whichever Pogs land awesome side up, those are now belonging to the person who threw the slammer. Game repeats until all Pogs are owned/reowned.

Essentially, Pogs is the most wasteful and pointless game ever to be played. It is roughly the equivalent of saying: "Hey, I got an idea! Let's each put fifteen (or thirty for high stakes games) quarters into a bucket. I'll go on the roof and dump them onto the ground. All the ones that land on heads, I get to keep."

win.

But despite it's absurdity and obvious fad-ness, Pogs will always remain a staple of my childhood, and they will always hold a special place within my heart of hearts.

Pogs: Turing children into hardcore gamblers since 1994.

LAS VEGAS 2!

2009-05-25T19:42:00.000-07:00

...Las Vegas was fun. I lost money, but I saw FOTC, who were great. I am glad I went. Also, screwdrivers and It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia are a great combination.

LAS VEGAS

2009-05-22T16:07:00.000-07:00

City of Cats here I come! I am going to Las Vegas, Nevada to see Flight of the Conchords.........and gamble......and hang out with my friends. It is going to be sweet! We are going to stay in the Club 36 hotel , which could or could not be sweet. But it's all for the experience. I haven't been to Vegas since I was a wee lad, and I don't really remember anything about it, other than we went to this pretty cool water park. Now, as an adult, I will remember much more, although I will not be visiting a water park. It is going to be awesome.

A Few Thoughts: Christian Persecution and its Relevance to American Christians

2009-05-04T20:53:00.001-07:00

Christian persecution is a touchy subject for many American citizens these days. We hear stories of brothers and sisters in far away countries being martyred or imprisoned for their faith in Jesus, and we feel sad, angry, or hurt, like somebody has wronged us, or maybe act surprised that this kind of cruelty is being carried out. Too many of us neglect the teachings of Christ that say, “Remember the word that I said unto you, A servant is not greater than his lord. If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you,” (John 15:20) and honestly believe that we can truly follow God without any opposition. Reading about the martyrdom and torture of early Christians under the Roman emperors instills in me fear for my fellow present-day American believers. These brothers and sisters of old believed the words of Christ with their entire being: their bodies, minds, and souls, and they bled and died for it. Should we feel surges of anger or grief at martyrdom? Should we be surprised by persecution? If so, it brings to mind other questions. What is the value of persecution from the Christian’s perspective? Are we truly honoring God if we have no oppression from the world? Are we enjoying the fellowship of the world instead of perfect communion with God? Are we trying to serve two masters? I believe that if one does not experience some kind of oppression, not necessarily severe, he is not living a life honoring God. “What harmony exists between Christ and Belial, or what do a believer and an unbeliever have in common?” (II Corinthians 2:15) How can the Christian life coexist with the worldly one? They cannot. Therefore, extol persecution! Rejoice when you hear of brothers giving all for the Name! For they have surrendered what is merely temporary, and instead received that which is eternal, and they have done it with unadulterated joy, because they were found worthy to suffer for the Christ.

The Movie Theater

2009-05-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

So, I went to the movies a few days ago, and I had a thought. If I were to sum up the theater, what would I say. Well, the truth is, the movie theater is different things to different people, and I wish to explore the possibilities. Maybe in reading this you can discover which meaning you believe.

...

First, the movie theater is a place you go to watch a movie. And I don't mean glance at a movie while you talk really loudly with your friends, or steal a few looks at a movie while you're making out or something. Actually going to a theater, and viewing, in its entirety, a cinematic feature. Many people go to see a movie for different reasons. Maybe they are bored and looking for something to do, some go to be entertained, others go because they want to sound smart in front of their friends by analyzing the philosophy of a movie. Stupid. That's why I don't go see serious movies, becuase there is always somebody who's like, "This is what the director meant..." and I gurantee I will hear at some point, "It's about humanity." Every movie is about humanity! Unless it is the Lion King...but still...

Oh...hakuna matata...positivism...no worries. Dang. It is about humanity as well.

Alternatively, the movie theater is the pefect place to loiter. How often do I go to the movies and see upwards of 2,000 middle school students just.....hanging out. Not buying anything, not seeing anything, not eating anything...just...there. A myriad of scene/emo/punk/goth/stupid kids. I wonder what the ODOs have to deal with daily.

You mean I can't just sit here all day and all night, Officer?

Nothing annoys me more then having to wade through the river of prepubescent children in order to get to a destination that will probably just have more of them. What proud parents they must have!

Yay! I'm going to grow up to be a future obstruction!

Finally, the movie theater is a great locale for vandalism. Graffitti artists unite! This is the perfect building to tag up (that means to apply spray paint on buildings for you non-vandals)! there are security cameras on the building, but I am totally convinced they are pure aesthetic. They are there because science has determined that people are naturally afraid of robots.

The face of fear.

But fear not! They cannot harm you, O vandals! Tag in peace. But please, try to tag in English, because I can never understand the things you spray onto signs and walls and stuff.

Not English.

In closing, respect the movie theater for all it provides, no matter how you utilize it. Whether you are the best film critic (in your own mind), being in the way and annoying, or ruining the outside of the building, you should still be thankful for the movies, now matter what the price is of a ticket. (It's $10! WTF!)

Supposing the Economy Worsens....

2009-04-16T12:12:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about this the other day, yes, thinking, and I came to the conclusion that should the economy continue its descent into obliteration, we may have to resort to drastic measures.

Drastic.

No, not that drastic, well, in so much as the food supply holds up (but in that case I am a strong supporter of Soylent Green{Soylent Green being little green wafers[these wafers being recycled dead people...that we'd eat]}). No, I was thinking more along the lines of specialized creative employment opportunity. In layman's terms, we would probably have to resort to making up jobs, essentially serving no purpose, to create employment in a last-ditch effort to boost the economy. For example, now with your Masters Degree in Pathology, you too can become a sandwich weigher! With new imposed taxes and regulations, all sandwiches must weigh exactly 13 ounces or less, or face heavy fines. Enter the sandwich weigher, dutifully making sure all sandwiches are regulation-size.

I'm excited.

Or how about with your PhD in whatever (because it doesn't matter), going to work as an honored and revered bowling ball polisher! Yeah, like I said, creative jobs.

And in the worst case of our economy going down the tubes, we may even have to get rid of IMPORTANT jobs! Imagine the tears on the distraught children's faces now...their most beloved person ever put out of work, unable to provide for them the things their youthful hearts need and crave. Imagine the pain they will feel as this person, forced to retire in shame, turns from them to go into a lifetime of grief and uselessness. All this because his workforce was deemed unnecessary.

If Santa Claus isn't your kid's most favorite person, I'd say you have misaligned their priorities.

But on a lighter note, we should really look into that Soylent Green thing...

The other is people.

Tiger's Milk Bars....and other musings

2009-03-12T19:55:00.000-07:00

Do you ever come across a time in your life when you just think to yourself, "Man, I am very funny. Like for reals." I haven't had one of those times yet, but I imagine a time when that fantasy becomes a glorious reality.

I have gotten close, like the times I point out the ridiculous connotations that food brands promote. For example, yelling really loud in the middle of the supermarket that Tiger's Milk doesn't really sound that appetizing, wondering aloud what is next, Whale Milk? I have actually been a strong proponent of introducing whale milk to the general public. I mean, think about it, whales are huge, so milk from them will be greatly abundant. Whales are mammals too, so they can't be ALL that different from cows or goats or other milk bearing creatures. We may be able to stop world hunger....err....thirst, with the advocation of whale milk, but I digress.

Other times, I may verge on humor by pointing out something usually pretty obvious, but still sort of unusual. "One of your socks is longer than the other!" is one of my favorites, but when people wear pants, thus hiding their socks from view, I do not get to employ it. At these outbursts, some people laugh, but not enough for me to be funny.

I also like to dance funny, but that just makes me look stupid, so don't ask me to dance.

I believe my best attempt at comedy is found in my random notes that I leave for people around the office, such as this one I wrote for my friend Bry,
"Bry,
If we were lost on a frozen planet I would allow you to cut open my stomach with a lightsaber and scoop out my entrails so you could sleep in my still-warm corpse, keeping you safe for the night. That's how much you mean to me.
Stephen"

True, I realize I "borrowed" the essential first half-hour of The Empire Strikes Back, but I believe this showcases my potential.

Or this one I wrote for my friend Emma,

"Dear Emma,
You remind me of Raisin Bran cereal, only instead of two scoops of raisins, you have two scoops of friendship. Not sure how much a scoop is.
Love,
Stephen"

I am still not sure how much "a scoop" is, but I trust it is a substantial amount for it to be a selling point of the cereal.

Ssee what I mean? While I know you didn't think in your mind, "Wow, this guy is really funny," you maybe chuckled at a point or two along the way. But this doesn't qualify me, at least in my own mind, to be considered funny.

Over time, I have come to realize my capactiy for humor arises out of situations. I cannot create funny on my own. Abundant humor does not flow from me as it does some of my other friends, *cough Jon, *cough. I must have outside aid from the world, after which I pounce on it like a lioness would a sickly gazelle, only the lioness is a lion that is me, and the sickly gazelle is comedic situations.

On another note, I really like the movie Homeward Bound, but it always makes me cry for some reason. Darn you, Shadow. I always knew you could make it out of that mud pit. You ARE NOT too old!

Michael J. Fox was the bulldog.

The Second Coming Of Christ

2009-03-08T17:40:00.000-07:00

Speculation abounds in Christian circles concerning the Second Coming of Christ: what it entails, when it will be, who will be involved, what will specifically happen- and unfortunately this information is not revealed in the Bible. What we can know about the return of Jesus does not come from formualation, theorizing, and date-setting, but from what is said in the Scriptures, and this is not very extensive. Firstly, "...the Day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night." (I Thes. 5:2) The second coming of Christ will be sudden and unexpected. Akin to the Genesis flood, Jesus says, "But as the days of Noah were, so also will the coming of the Son of Man be. For as in the days that were before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noah entered into the ark." People will be going about business as usual, nothing will seem out of the ordinary, but this will be the time the Son returns. Many dates have been proposed to be that of the Lord's return, but they have all been proved false. Only God knows the time he has chosen for his return to earth. Secondly, the Lord's return will be visible and physical. Just after Christ's ascension, two angels told the gathered disciples that Jesus will "come in the same way [they saw] him go," (Acts 1:11) that is, descending from heaven. Revelation tells us that "he is coming in the clouds, and every eye shall see him." (1:7) It will not merely be a manifestation of Christ or aspects of himself, i.e. his teaching, or morality, but the physical resurrected Jesus of Nazareth, crucified and risen. (Grudem 1092) Thirdly, the second coming of Christ will have eventual eternal results, judgement for the unbeliever and eternal life for the believer. Jesus will establish a new heaven and new earth, and the old will be destroyed with fire, ushering in eternity of fellowship with God for the righteous, and eternity of separation from God for the unrighteous. (Grudem 1095)
What should the Christian do with this knowledge, albeit not the most intimate as there are some things we simply cannot know, surrounding Christ's return? How should he live based on what he can discern from the Bible and the Holy Spirit? Many Christians believe that a sense of urgency should arise, a need to create intentional relationships with unbelievers. I disagree. I believe that attitude should already be prevalent. I believe that the Second Coming of Christ should effect no major change in a true believer's life. It is unknown when Christ will return, thus I believe he could arrive at anytime. Who are we to say something must precede his coming? In a way, is that not date-setting? Our Great Commission from the Lord, given in Matthew, is "go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit."(Matthew 28:19) I believe this should not change in the face of the Second Coming, but that it should fuel our desire to see more people come to know the power and grace of the Lord. Our desire to see God glorified through changed lives, should increase in intensity due to the uncertainty of the times. As I mentioned before, intentional relationships are key, that is, living in such a way that you are an intentional witness to an unbelieving world for the Lord Jesus, above reproach and properly displaying the love and grace of Christ. Words should be spoken without fear. Acts of kindness, mercy, and grace should be done with love and an emboldened spirit. Conversations and lifestyles must reflect a change of mind, heart, and soul, one that God effects. The Second Coming should not change the way you live your Christianity out in the day-to-day world. It should be preached as a comfort to those already saved, not as a tactic to win converts. People need to see the alteration from sin that a personal relationship with the Lord brings about. That is true witness.

Spiritual Warfare

2009-03-02T21:55:00.000-08:00

by Stephen Byrne
Verses taken from Holy Bible, New International Version
Citations (where noted) from Systematic Theology by Wayne Grudem

Spiritual warfare is often not realized or not understood properly amongst Christian communities, even ones strong in the Lord. What is spiritual warfare? Spiritual warfare is the battle between the armies of the Lord and the armies of Satan for one, and I also see it as the struggle between righteousness and unrighteousness, both within an individual person's soul and conscience and in the unseen spiritual realm. How should a believer respond and act accordingly to the concept and actuality of spiritual warfare?

First, understand who the enemy is. The Bible tells us as believers our fight is not "against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places." (Ephesians 6:12) We war against the devil and those spiritual forces who place their lot with him, not against man here on earth. The devil is the prince of this sinful world. (John 14:30) Revelation 12:10 calls the devil our accuser, the one who before God decries our sins and declares us unworthy of salvation. Our enemy is strong, and we cannot defeat him alone, but our Lord is stronger, and with Christ we can triumph. Christ declares in John 16:33, "Take heart for I have overcome the world." Our enemy is also the evil desires within us, the carnal desires of the old self that war with the new self given in Christ, as well as the temptations the sinful world creates for us. (Grudem 421) (Romans 6) (I Cor. 10:13) The fight is difficult, but our God is faithful.

Second, understand what the battle is ultimately about. The battle is not for land, for resources, or any reason a human war may be staged, but for the ultimate destination and condition of human souls. Satan, desiring to have plenty of company in hell, wages battle with "great wrath, knowing he has but a short time" (Rev. 12:12); whereas, the Lord desires all to be saved, and for none to experience separation from him in hell. (I Tim. 2:4) This battle should not be mistaken to be between those of equal powers, however. Satan is infinitely inferior to God, and the Lord is already victorious and will be even more so in times to come and passes this victory onto us, his children, through Jesus. (I Cor. 15:57) Thus, the believer can walk in strength and fearlessness, for their God is in control and has assured victory. Through this victory, Christ has given us the authority to withstand and rebuke these supernatural enemies. (Luke 9:1) This authority stems from Christ's championing death on the cross, and this also provides us the basis to engage in spiritual warfare, as a member of God's family. We do not have anything to fear in demons. (Grudem 428) The Holy Spirit in us is stronger than any demonic power or strength, (I John 4:4) and has given us a spirit not of fear, but of power and love. (2 Tim. 1:7)

Finally, what is the Christian's responsibility in spiritual warfare, if the battle is already won? We have an opportunity to minister to those conflicted in spiritual warfare, whether through counsel, prayer, or direct intervention. (Grudem 430-431) In order to be effective in our ministry, we need to be walking with God and take full advantage of the power of the Holy Spirit indwelling us. (Grudem 432) In victory over our spiritual enemy, it is vital we should not rejoice that we have triumphed over demons, but that we have salvation in heaven. (Luke 10:20) Christians also need to utilize opportunities in ministry to those spiritually oppressed to preach the Gospel, yet in every instance, whether a new convert is won or not, give full glory to Jesus. (Grudem 433).

Spiritual warfare can be a complex subject, because of its difficult concept, as well as its intensity. However, it is important the Christian be aware of it, since it affects his own spiritual walk and his witness to unbelievers. With Christ the victory is already won, but many lost souls are caught between the warring factions, and many are on the losing side. For the Christian, the battle is best fought on his knees, his best weapon the power of prayer.

Morning Star Pt. 1

2009-02-18T20:32:00.000-08:00

by Stephen Byrne

'Tis I who hath ascended higher than the heavens,
I who outshine both sun and stars in unabashed light.
'Tis I who posses might like iron hammered
I whose beauty exceedeth that of any other creature
Why, then, should I be made for servitude?
To wait on Thee, my glory befitted to be Thy retainer.
This I sayeth to Thee, Yahweh, I shalt be Thine no more.
Mine enchainment endeth this day, this very hour!
For what canst Thou do for me, for I am become Thee?
Thou sayest I am created, this I deny, this I blaspheme
For I am become as The Most High, not lacking in power and strength.
Thy throne be deposed, and mine kingdom exalted to the stars.
And this I avow, Elohim, thou hast become my repugnance.
And I shalt forever be the gleaming spear in Thy side.
Thou shalt ere feel the sting of my hatred, my hot rage.
Thy blood shalt always run cold with the venom of my ire.
War shall never depart 'tween Thy celestial house and mine.
And my offspring will for'ere battle with Thine.
What Thou shalt create, I will doom to destruction.
Where Thou givest the breath of life, I will choke it.
Thy mantle is of order, I shall crown chaos as lord.
Where Thou bringst love, I invite hate.
All that Thou cherish, I shalt despise.
Everything Thou defend and hedge, I will assault.
Until at last I stand triumphant over Thy withering Form,
And all Thy loyal angels I will enslave,
And Thy Chosen shall see decay, and moulder in the grave.
Thy Only Begotten shall be trounced 'neath my armies.
Thine outstretched Arm shall wither and die,
And I shalt set Thy jeweled crown upon mine head
My countenance is forever darkened unto Thee, El Shaddai,
And I shalt serve Thee, henceforth, no more.

nothing prepares you

2009-02-17T16:45:00.000-08:00

for seeing your ex-girlfriend 16 months after you break up, especially at one of the places you used to frequent. let me explain.

great wok of china in oceanside is probably one of the best chinese food places around, mostly because of their lunch specials. kristen turned me on to it about a year after we started dating, and i liked it a lot, so nearly every time i visited her at lunch at 24 hour fitness, we went there. after we broke up in november of 07, i stopped going for a while, to mitigate the memory of her; however, once i began to get over the relationship in may, i started going again, with people from work.

today was one of those days, an average lunch day. while waiting in line at the soda machine, who should walk in but kristen and her mom. noticing them before they noticed me (i think), i quickly exited the restaurant, escaping into the plaza.

now, kristen began dating a guy within days of us breaking up, or it might have been just before, i'm not quite sure, she never told me. she got pregnant by him, and is now married to him, and i suppose about 13 months pregnant by the look of her. i hadn't seen her since we broke up, and it was very awkward, strange, and hurtful to see her.

i'm not sure if she even knew i was there, and even if she did i doubt she'd care. at this moment, i'm at the place where i can say, i don't care either, but it was still sucky to see her. i loved her a lot, and the way she ended things will probably always sting a little, until i have a love with another girl that is stronger, bigger, and better to replace it. until then, i have to give everything to the Lord, who is stronger, bigger, and better than anything i could ever get from anyone.

Weekly Poems (Week of 1/25 - 1/31)

2009-02-04T12:04:00.000-08:00

All poems by Stephen Byrne

"Summer's Walk" (A nature poem. Last two lines rhyme. Unintentional)

Sunbeams pour from an azure sky
Like golden water on the ground
Sun, earth, and man together,
A trinity on this warm summer day
This is my serenity, my solace
A quiet stroll through the green
Nature's peace surrounding me
Embracing me with earthen arms
As I journey through her vibrant halls
Encasing me in verdant walls.

"To All The Girls I've Loved Before" (This one is kinda ridiculous and comes across as one of those "I'm feeling sorry for myself" ones, but I felt like this for a while.)

Pitiable. Petty. Paranoid.
All that I am to you now, a complete roundabout (of how we used to feel)
Once the sole object of your affection, now reduced to mere ash
In your eyes, eyes that once looked on me in love
Are now absolved of me completely, therein lies no spark of adoration
Ethereal dreams Known in our Kiss Vanish, now no dream Lingers There.
Lips that used to speak my name with airy breaths, voices drenched
With amorous words now are interwoven with the names of others - betters.
Hearts that once skipped beats as I drew near no longer house the feelings
Of endearment I knew so well.
Even now my stomach is in my throat as I write this, as I reflect
Our history is over - and you have already begun new chapters
That have written me out of existence, truth be told, you are better off
To all the girls I've loved before, sorry for the inconvenience.

it's just like a mini mall

2009-01-14T00:24:00.000-08:00

so school has started again. hooray
it is my second quarter at horizon college in san diego (a bible college). it is really cool to see my future begin to unfold as i complete courses here. God is truly amazing. jr. high is still great, i enjoy every minute of it. work is mundane, but it pays for tuition, etc. so i cannot complain about that.

2009 has begun!

Weekly Poems (Week of 12-7 - 12-13)

2008-12-14T20:30:00.000-08:00

all poems by Stephen Byrne

"A Contract. The Terms? Your Whole Life. What A Small Price Tag!"

With your arm wrapped tightly around my waist
I feel like shouting to the whole world around me,
"I love this woman with all my heart and soul!"
Extol your lovely face and name to each passer-by.
For today is the day that I picked to make you mine,
That I chose to choose you as my partner for life,
My lover, who means everything to me.
We will be together forever and ever. Eternity.
I decided how it would be long ago, as a child.
Before I even met you I knew how it would be done.
The marriage, not the proposal. I knew what I would do.
You would be the most cared-for woman in the world
And I stand by it on this, the ultimate day.
And I am ready to make my dynamic life-hanging move.
And so, under a cloud-dotted, perfect sky
I drop to one knee and pull out a box containing
the rest of my life.

"Solvo Mihi Ex Nox Noctis"
Blindly feeling my way around this dark passageway
Trying to see any and all signs of light, of outside.
But all my existence is to me is a black void.
An empty nothing, and all I am is miserable,
Only she can rescue me from this desolation,
Light the torches to illuminate my pathetic life
Call my name as she searches through the tunnel
Luring me to safety with he musical voice
Like an angel's song, it has a light of its own.
And it is my ticket to freedom and love.
I only need follow her, and solace is not far behind
A liberation of wondrous beauty and grace
Until she arrives, though, I am naught but lost
Awaiting my savior in the cold solidarity
With nothing to warm me but my own breath
That does nothing but try to pronounce your name
But only comes through as short gasps
And whispers on the coarse, icy wind
Come soon my love, for I can barely make out your spark
You are not far from finding me, don't give up!

"Deflecting Blows Only To Stab Ourselves"
The battle has begun
Lines must be drawn
Lest we forget whom we fight
Or for what we stand
If we hold a common foe
Why then do I persist to ram
My fist against the wall
I'm just warring with myself
This serves no purpose
No benefit to us
This is our struggle
This is our open war
Leave me now
Defeat in sight
I would not be a victor

If Curiosity Killed The Cat, Thank God We're Not Cats"

2008-12-12T22:56:00.000-08:00

by Stephen Byrne

I thought it'd be only once. No more than that.
That one "innocent test." How foolish I was!
Now I am consumed, willpower lost.
For it is all sacrificed to the all-consuming,
All-demanding selfishness and lust in my heart.
How idiotic I was to believe I could tame it,
But like a wild beast, it tore me to shreds!
Now I am its servant, fulfilling its bidding.
Whatever its bidding, I must obey.
Is this all I was created for? A slave's life?
I know what I must do, and yet I do not do it.
I know what I must not do, yet I do it anyway.
How wretched am I! How undeserving of sacrifice!
My life seems no less than utterly hopeless.
I am naught but a pawn to evil's wishes.
An instrument of darkness, pliable to every command.
I plead for nothing save freedom from bondage.
A breaking of the chains that bind my soul.
I know I cannot destroy addiction's hold myself.
I need the help of Someone Else.

knotts berry farm

2008-11-23T23:10:00.000-08:00

As the title of this entry suggests, my day consisted of a trip to Knott's Berry Farm. Today was Military Day, so military got in free, and their friends could get in for $15. A bunch of us from this Bible study I go to went; it was pretty fun. I was super tired from the day before, so it was a little hard to get moving this morning, but I ended up sleeping a bit on the way up, and I took a nap around 1. We got there around 8, but before we went to the park, we checked out a church up there. It was a little different than what I'm used to: a lot of congregational involvement, and we came at the very end of a sermon series, so it wasn't a typical sermon either. It was cool though, and there was this extremely awkward, drawn-out Christian rap song that this chick made up, and she seriously did this rap for about 8 minutes or so. Pretty funny.
Anyways, the park was fun, I got to go on most of the rides, because the park didn't get crowded till about noon. Kyle and I forced Shelly to go on a lot of rides because she was scared, which is always fun. That's how I got over my fear of rollercoasters, cause I got forced.
We left for home about 6, hung out at Krikorian and KJ's house for a little, then came home. Now I'm trying to get some homework done before tomorrow, so I can take it a little easy tomorrow. Next week is going to kill. Black Friday sale at WalMart, plus a research paper, and book report due next Monday. *sigh, so much for Thanksgiving vacation...

My Phenomena (a poem by meeee....)

2008-11-18T23:05:00.000-08:00

Angels tread silently while in her presence
In a true admiration of her awing beauty
She rules as a queen amongst women,
And I am forever her dumbstruck king
For I am forever undeserving of her
And the selfless love that she provides.
She is my private garden, divinely planted,
A hidden spring that only I may drink from.
Tears of joy flow forth from my hazel eyes
Every time they manage to steal a glance.
My ears resonate with the songs of seraphs
Every time she speaks aloud my dry name.
My mind reverts to that of a foolish child
Every time her silhouette paints the wall.
My heart palpitates at the speed of sound
Every time her perfect hand grazes mine.
Praises to the King of all, who elected me,
Who destined me of all men in his world
to be her caretaker, her partner, her lover, her friend,
to be the man who dubbed himself the luckiest man ever.

by Stephen Byrne

*sigh....where are you?

Coal Afternoon - a poert

2008-11-18T22:07:00.000-08:00

"Coal Afternoon"
This ticket feels so heavy as I turn it over in my hands.
Cold October air bites at my face with unbridled ferocity.
I check the old station clock behind me every minute
To know whether or not the noon train is running late.
The seconds tick by like dew slowly dripping from a dahlia.
12:01. 12:02. Impatience gives way to irritability.
At last I hear its mighty trump sound as it roars to a stop.
And the anger roaring within me is quelled in a breath.

by Stephen Byrne

This refers to the impatience I often feel with others that interfere with my own schedule. I know as a Christian, I should be practicing patience, but I do fail...often.
I like writing poems with imagery.

to my wife (wherever you are)

2008-11-15T23:16:00.001-08:00

All the shining stars in the charcoal sky
Are dimmed against thy brightened radiance
Aphrodite turneth her face to cry
At the glorious sight of thy passance
For thy love I will all others disown
Clothed in splendor, fit to wed a king
I would give thee all the riches I own
Lowly lived thou art, but thou art my queen
Man is mortal, and beauty shall soon fade
All our glory shall be reduced to dust
But what is eternal is our love made
And cherish that love forever we must
For content I pray thou always will be
For my ultimate content, Love, is thee.

Thoughts on all the Prop 8 commotion...seems to be a lot of it

2008-11-07T23:40:00.000-08:00

So much has been said concerning Proposition 8 over the past few months, and now that it has passed, it doesn't look like the talk is going to die down anytime soon. Now I realize that there are some very opinionated people on both sides of the argument, and to the intelligent and well-informed champions of either side, I respect you. But my main concern has to be with so-called Christians, and I use that term very loosely because I am more or less forced to.

First off, I have been bombarded by an influx of information that a large number of "Christians" see no moral dilemma for homosexuals, and many practicing homosexuals call themselves "Christian" with no shame or conviction. Earlier today, I was reading through a topic thread in a Christian group concerning Proposition 8, and was disturbed to find many of the posters were practicing this lifestyle and still were championing their cause with no disgrace. If we call ourselves Christians, we cannot pick and choose which parts of the Bible we want to believe and follow and which ones we want to discount and throw away. Homosexuality is explicitly stated as sin, both in Levitical law and by several New Testament writers, including Paul and Jude. Homosexuality is a choice, just as is promiscuity, infidelity, premarital relations, covetousness, murder, and lying. Those who say they were "born this way," that they cannot change the way they were made are blinded by their own sinful nature. To say that a homosexual cannot change the way they are is akin to a thief saying he can never stop stealing or to a murderer saying he cannot stay his hand. It is a choice. To engage in homosexuality is a choice. To have homosexual tendencies does not make one a homosexual, only the act itself does, and such a person can learn to curb their desires much as one who is predisposed to look on a woman lustfully can learn to avert their eyes. With the Lord comes grace and the power to change. I am not saying all homosexuals, when they come to Christ, magically become heterosexual; the sinful nature still wars with the Christian daily, but the Lord can change hearts, and sin's power can be quelled to a degree that these desires can be fought. But, aside from this, grace does not equal a condoning of that sin. Sin must be expelled from the congregation of God, for he cannot abide with sin. Therefore, we as believers can never treat homosexuality as acceptable behavior, neither can we approve of any sin. But, I must add, to treat a homosexual with contempt, is plain wrong and detrimental to the kingdom of God. They must be loved with the love of Christ (who did not turn away the adulteress or the sinful Samaritan woman), and be given the grace we have been bestowed with. But, to reiterate, this should never be mistaken to say we should not hate the sin.

Second, concerning the actual Proposition 8 argument, I am torn, in a way. I voted "Yes" on the ballot, because of personal conviction, but many of my friends, who are Christian (and God-fearing), did not vote on this issue. Most of their reasoning arises from the opinion that homosexual couples should have the same rights as heterosexual couples, such as tax write-offs, wills and testaments (in regards to each other as beneficiaries), insurance, etc. As far as this is concerned, I agree. I have no problem letting homosexual couples marry for these reasons, if it were solely these reasons. But adding the tag lines to the "No on 8" campaign signs "Equality for all" and "No intolerance" scream their advocates' agenda: "Accept my behavior. You have no right to tell me what I'm doing is wrong, and I'm going to shove it down your throat." This campaign has never been one of tolerance, it has been one of approval. I heard on the radio that at a polling place up north there were Prop. 8 opponents passing out pro-gay materials. If someone refused their pamphlets or stated that they were voting "yes," these so-called "tolerant" people would scream obscenities at these people and call them homophobes. The issue was never tolerance. It is about sinful people desiring approval of their lifestyle, and anyone who disagrees is an intolerant fool. If it was simply people wanting certain rights that did not affect me on a moral scale, fine. But the second I hear word that my church could get sued some day because they refuse to perform a homosexual ceremony, or that, were I to put my child in public school because, Heaven forbid, I could not afford either the time for home schooling or the funds for private school, he would learn about homosexuality as a perfectly normal, acceptable lifestyle, I fear I cannot keep my mouth shut. This extends far beyond the Christian's responsibility to love the sinner and urge him toward salvation. This is about someone imposing their morality on me, something completely contradictory to what I believe as a Christian. However, according to the other side, in doing so, I am imposing my morality on them. Well, then, it looks like we are caught up in a shoving match. Somebody's morals have to get shoved down somebody else's throat, and frankly, I would rather let God's morality reign that that of man. That is why I voted yes on 8. But, I believe voting has to be a personal issue between you and the Lord. If you are to vote on something, you should do it with conviction, as it is a very important thing; no one should vote flippantly. I cannot speak for every man, but I would hope at least most Christians would agree with me on the majority of what I say.

That being said, I don't want to come across as being hateful, because I'm not. God commands me to be intolerant of sin, but I do not pass my own judgment on anyone. It is reserved to Christ to be Judge of man, and I would not take that from him. All I can do is point you to the Bible and show you what it says.This is an issue far from dead, and I hope it opens doors to point lost souls to the Man who can change any life and make it new. If only one person comes to Christ through discussions about Proposition 8, it is not in vain, whether it stands or is overturned. Keep that in mind that the Christian faith is about JESUS first, then pointing people to Jesus. We aren't going to dissuade any people from sin, without first allowing the Holy Spirit to work in such an apparent way that others notice, and condemning others is not such a way.

"If I Told You All That I Was Thinking, You Would Be Me, Or At Least A Crude Replication"

2008-11-05T18:29:00.001-08:00

I laugh to myself
How can you miss her?
You don't even know who she is...
But I tell the truth I am sick in longing for her
I picture her arrival as such
A pompous parade accompaning her
As much as would a queen
For that is what she will be to me
In any case, I know this will
Not be the manner
But this will be: when I know her
For who she is, or rather,
Who she will be, one can only
Imagine the joy that will fill my soul
Until then I am only half a man.

Election Woes

2008-11-04T23:18:00.000-08:00

Change is coming. Its black clouds loom on the horizon.
Change is coming. You have whored yourselves to it.
Mammon be praised, God is found in your pocket.
Once again he has bought your souls with blind oaths
Dark minds are swamped with your empty desires
And haughty eyes are blinded by wanton longings.
Why do you continue your hard-hearted rebellion?
Is it so hard for you to kick against the goads?
My brethren bemoan your pitiable destination,
A wrath aflame and judgment divine await.
Fates worse than death knock at your door,
And you swing wide the gate of your iniquity.
When your sentence is read, will you weep?
Will you regret sins committed on beds of infidelity?
For you have prostituted yourselves to Death,
And Hades trails not far behind, ready to receive.
Demons that you have worshiped lurk ever closer,
Extending hellish claws to rake into your lost souls.
Lament for your children, for the horrors to come,
That the stain of your sin does not infect their hearts.
Pray the Mercy that you have denounced is near,
And maybe He will be moved in his grace to hear you.
America, you have decided; you have chosen.
Now face the consequences you have earned.

-Stephen Byrne

Believers, pray for America. This is the time. The wheat is on the threshing floor. It is time to separate the wheat from the chaff. Stand by the Lord. The hour will come when he may be all you have.

Election Day '08

2008-11-03T22:14:00.000-08:00

All I can say going into this election day is, "WOW!" How did we get to this point: where we have two choices for president, and one choice, Sen. John McCain, albeit a pretty average guy, is looking more and more like a saint next to the other choice, Sen. Barack Obama, who I'm becoming more and more convinced is going to get us blown up. Aside from that, we in California have some pretty important Propositions to vote on, mainly Prop. 4 and Prop. 8. This I believe is the proving ground for God's people. How we respond to these issues is, in my opinion, a pretty clear indication on how we stand with the Lord. Think about it! How did we get to the place where we have to define what marriage is, even though it is clearly stated in the Bible what God's law is? How did we get to the place where we have to vote on whether or not parents should have the right to know when their underage daughter wants to get an abortion? This has never been about tolerance or acceptance or discrimination. It has always been about people living in sin wanting approval for their actions. And we give it to them! How Jesus must weep at our blatant disregard for what his truth says. Wake up, America! Your days are numbered! Turn to God, and he will hear from heaven, and will heal us and this sin-ravaged land.

re: dang it

2008-10-16T23:32:00.000-07:00

I feel I should clarify a bit concerning my last post. As many of you know who are friends with me, I am a very emotional person. It is so annoying at times, but emotions have a lot more power over me then I really want to give up. It has been an uphill struggle for so long, and I trust that it will be like that for a while yet. Suffice it to say, ... Read Moremy last post was not solely surrounding one particular event, rather a chain of events that has left me feeling quite taxed. It seems like disappointment after disappointment is befalling me, and like any normal human feels, life becomes a tad overwhelming after awhile. I cannot place the blame on any of these feelings save myself, and I do not doubt the Enemy is taking advantage of the position I have placed myself in. I find myself repeatedly learning how to trust God. Pray for me, you who read this post; pray that God meets me yet again. Pray I would have the desire to seek his face once more. Commit me to the Lord: Be my friend.

dang it

2008-10-14T16:44:00.000-07:00

Oh, how miserable life can seem at times. To feel so strongly that the Lord has come through and provided that which, then to find you are extremely mistaken is more than a little debilitating. God has done nothing to deserve a distrust of him, yet one cannot help but feel at the very least let down. Such is my life. I have let myself get caught up... Read More yet again on a tornado of emotion, and it has brought forth chaos (as tornadoes tend to do) in my heart. Granted, it is nowhere remotely near the devastation I have previously felt, but nonetheless, pain is pain. All that remains once more is a tattered faith, that I must again with the help of the Holy Spirit rebuild and fortify. Albeit I feel convicted that my faith suffers when my desires are not met, but I trust God understands and has grace.

The Potion - - short story by me, still writing, here's a preview

2008-09-04T23:59:00.000-07:00

My time here is short, so I will make my history known. Let no man suffer what I have suffered. I have seen too many years pass and too many sins committed. No one should make the sacrifices I have so hastily and carelessly forfeited. Oh Jael, forgive me. If only I never knew the man.
I met the man many years ago, in an era almost too distant for any alive now to even fathom. He was an elderly man, weathered lines in his face etched there by time and the elements, but he still had a youthful aura about him, an air that seemed to protrude from him as if it could not be contained inside his frail-looking form. He possessed that arrogant look that a man has when he thinks he knows everything, although this man appeared as if he actually could have known everything. And through his conceited stare, strangely I could see immeasurable wisdom and knowledge radiating from a man who appeared to have lived ages. A small, long-bearded Magi of the ancient world stood before me.
I was a creative craftsman, an alchemist and druggist in those days, and my trade preference was one not looked well upon in my city, in fact it was almost viewed as a heresy against our gods. I studied the plants and elements extensively in order to create herbal remedies and special tonics I was sure others would certainly need and want. However, rarely did I produce such wanted products. I lived meager and destitute, often resorting to the charity of others (if one would call the occasional theft of food and money accepting charity). You may ask why I did not attempt another type of profession such as farming or blacksmithing if my current choice was that unyielding. My shameful response is that I am a frail man, incapable of hard labor and that I am incompetent in sculpting and molding; no artistic spark runs through my veins. The gods did not smile on my birth. I was borne weak, and so shall I remain, and I could do nothing to remedy the matter. It was not mine to decide. Thus I can only mix.
My name, you ask? It shall suffice for the duration of our conversation to call me Janus. I have been called by many names over many centuries, but Janus is my given and most favorite. I would not consider myself a handsome man, certainly not well-built, but I possess a great intelligence that is afforded to few where I come from. I was born in a small southern village, near a great sea to our eastern borders. I never knew my parents; they died of illness whilst I was still in infancy and no one took me in, thus my whole life I had been an orphan, an outcast, to my society. I did not even know my own birthday. Because of the cruel hand Fate dealt me, I lived an extremely hard life, rarely receiving aid from any other, easily explaining my resort to theft.
There was one; however, who showed me more kindness than I would ever have thought possible for another human being to express, given my current circumstances. Her name was Marah. She was poor herself, a widow who performed servant duties for a cruel, wealthy townsman named Tycho out of an obligation her husband had owed, but gave to me as generously as she could afford. Marah used to sneak me hunks of bread out of the window to my eager, outstretched hands or pass me sips of cool water from an earthen cup she had taken from within her master’s chambers. As long as she breathed, Marah would not let me starve. Though it was forbidden for a servant to read, she somehow knew and made it her business to teach me how. She was the closest thing to a mother I could have had and the most selfless person I ever knew.
Marah had a beautiful daughter my age named Jael. Jael inherited her mother’s raven-colored hair and gorgeous smile, but her most unique feature was her eyes, and I think I was drawn to those first. Jael had stunning gray eyes like rain clouds, and I thought that whenever I stared at her long enough I could feel her eyes striking me with lightning, paralyzing every nerve in my body, and it was the greatest sensation I ever experienced. Each time I arrived at Marah’s living quarters for my reading lesson, I would always anticipate seeing and being with Jael. I loved her, as much as any juvenile boy could love a young girl. I never told her, but I secretly planned to marry her once we were old enough, an exceptionally intricate plan for a teenager.
I recollect the day I knew I loved Jael. After my daily session with Marah, Jael and I were playfully chasing each other outside. We soon paused, out of breath, and she looked at me with those dazzling eyes. I smiled at her, and grabbed her hand. What surprised me the most is that she did not pull away. Instead she returned my smile, her attractive face beaming back at me, and immediately I was smitten. I knew in that moment I would do anything for that girl. She and her mother made my miserable existence as an urchin and outsider so incredibly endurable beyond my wildest dreams.
Alas, that black day came everlastingly earlier than I would have forever wanted. Several years after I met Marah and Jael, Marah contracted a deadly fever. I remember being able to do nothing except weep outside her room and hold Jael’s hand, watching her mother’s life ebb away as if it were nothing but the sun drying up a pool of water. Agonizing days passed and eventually, Marah died. After this, Marah and Jael’s master made the judgment to abandon the town and travel to another settlement west of ours, citing our village as nothing but “a disease-carrying hellhole full of inept swine.”
The villainous day Jael left was also the day I first kissed her. That whole period now seems like a blur save for that one moment, forever carved in my memory, embedded in the very fabric of my being. With only seconds before her departure, I grabbed her hand in desperation and pulled her close, pressing my lips to hers. Electrical fire surged up and down my spine, and my lips tingled from the kiss. She pulled away reluctantly and gazed into my eyes with a grief and longing I would never ever be able to erase from my mind.
Before her master took her, I made her one promise, “You will be with me one day.”
“I believe you…” she whispered as the demon snatched her away from me.
More years passed, and I still had not honored my oath, and I lost faith that I would ever be able to reclaim her, but still I strove hard to earn enough to buy her back. Day after day I prayed to the gods to grant me mercy and restore to me the one person in the world I loved, but no deity ever answered my pleads. No matter how hard my endeavor, I still felt as inept as ever.
Every year my town would host a festival of sorts celebrating our gods’ favor on the land; although, seldom did I have anything to celebrate. Many citizens used this gathering as an opportunity to vend their trade. Each event I too would attempt to peddle my goods in a small section of the street, marketing my various cures and medicines and trying to distract would-be customers from the merchants advertising practical goods like food and clothing. Rarely was I successful. So the same was year after year after year, until I met the man.
I saw him a ways off, casually strolling down the crowded market corner and studying each vendor’s stand, leaving each with no business. Finally he came to my place in the row of merchants and stopped. I read in his face that this was his deliberate stop from the beginning and that I was the only person he intended to do business with this day. For a few minutes I felt so stunned by his gaze I could not do anything but stare back at him. Finally he spoke, in the sort of raspy voice one would expect to emit from one who had walked the earth for so many years,
“What is it you want most out of your life, my friend? What would grant you immeasurable happiness and pleasure?” His eyes wandered from mine. “Or who?”
His face exhibited such a knowing expression, such an intimate stare, a look that told me he already knew the answer my mind held without me even breathing a word. This stranger knew me too well.
“First, who are you?” I questioned, waving my hand toward him then running it through my matted brown hair, “and how do you know me?”
“I know of you, Janus,” wheezed the reply from the old man’s lips. Words seemed hard for him. “I asked the others,” he gestured to the rival merchants scattered along the road. “They say you are an herbalist and chemist amongst them. They don’t seem too fond of you or your choice of profession. You are their pariah”
At this I shook my head in agreement, “They fail to see my occupation as of any use to them, and they exclude me for it. They are mindless fools. My remedies can do much.”
The older of us two leaned in close, “And you have seen these…remedies of yours accomplish what you claim they can?”
He smiled at this query. He was trying to get me to admit something he already knew. Of course I had never been afflicted with what my mixtures supposedly cured: syphilis, boils, broken bones, tuberculosis, or menstruation pain. But how could he tell? How could he know this much about me already after spending naught but five minutes with me? I did not respond to this inquiry. I did not have to.
“I see that you have not witnessed these so-called cures used to any success.”
I am not sure why, but the old man’s words stung. Although he was only innocently questioning, he seemed to have brought down my entire business with mere words, although it is not as if it were actually a thriving business. Stranger or not, I could not lie to the man.
My words barely escaped my mouth a whimper, “These mixtures are only what the books I read tell me they are. If no one will use them, how will I know their success or failure?”
As it was a rhetorical question, I did not expect any reply. There was silence for a minute or so. The man spoke again,
“Show me these books you speak of.”
I was slightly taken aback at his forwardness. Here was someone I had met ten minutes ago; I did not even know his name, and now he wanted to enter my house to view my most prized possessions, essentially the only real items of worth I could claim as my own, except for the clothes I now wore. Still, he did seem genuinely interested in me and my work, albeit a little presumptuous.
I countered back, “First, you will tell me who you are. I still have not decided if I trust you.”
“Very well,” he replied coolly, giving a small bow. “I am Gaspar. I am a wise man from the Far East. I am well-learned in many arts and trades. I know of your plight, and I wish to aid you in your poverty and ultimate goal. I promise to help.”
A beggar couldn’t have pleaded for a superior motive. Still, I was a bit uneasy. This man literally knew me, though I had never seen him before today. My eyes flittered about the area, looking for an excuse to not have to escort him to my property.
“Sir, I welcome your support, but let us wait until the festival ends. Its completion draws near, and so I do not wish to abandon my booth.”
His words came piercing back, icy and merciless, “Does business suddenly thrive come nightfall? Do you fear thievery of your useless products? Or do you simply linger in order to watch fellow merchant after another laugh his fill at you as they leave, their pockets lined with the gold you wished you yourself had earned? What do you stand to gain by remaining here a second longer?”
Without a doubt Gaspar was right. There was nothing for me here; I was deceiving myself, making excuses. I started down the road and beckoned to him to follow me to my abode outside the settlement.
My home was nothing more than a hollowed-out opening dug into the side of a large mound standing about ten feet tall in an uneven parcel of land near my city’s northern border, an area reserved for the exiles of our town. Lack of rainfall had hardened the outside of the hill and inner layers preventing collapse and allowing me to enter and exit with no fear of injury. For an outsider, though, I lived reasonably more comfortable than the majority of my kind. I owned my own undersized cot to sleep upon and bowls and pestles with which to mix my medicines. A modest, crudely-carved wooden table stood nearby with a hunk of dry bread and a jar of pilfered water resting upon it, my ration for the week. The scent of ground herbs hung in the air like a secondary atmosphere.
I could tell this must have been uncomfortable for Gaspar, for he let out a nervous chuckle and coughed. “Impressive,” he managed, glancing my way with an anxious grin.
In no mood for small talk I snapped back angrily, “You have no right to patronize me, stranger! I know I live meager, but at the very least I am attempting to better my situation!” I backed towards another side of the room. “Let me get those books you wanted so you can help me do that,” I growled.
My alchemy and herbalist books appeared to have been printed in a period where those subjects were studied with great interest. With frayed edges and missing pages, my ancient tomes seemed to have been read more times than days I had been alive. My books were both a tremendous joy and immense pain to me. Learning was my passion, so naturally understanding them brought me happiness; however, they were a gift from Marah when my learning was complete, so with each word perceived, memories of Jael flooded back into my thoughts, and concentration was far removed. I handed them reluctantly to Gaspar.
As he thumbed through the yellowing paper, I attempted to maintain conversation. “I know the answer,” I said plainly.
“To what question?” he replied, not looking up.
“The one you asked me at our meeting.” I folded my arms. “About what could possibly make me happiest in this world.”
“I seem to recall,” muttered the old man, still engrossed in his reading, “Your response?”
Jael of course was the answer, but this man did not need to know that. Besides, I needed money to free her, and Gaspar had promised to assist me with my current financial situation. If I could accomplish nothing save obtain enough money to liberate my love away from her owner and into my arms, my life would come to fruition. I needed whatever handout I could attain from this so-called wise man.
“Success,” the reply came at last. “I do not desire to live in this poverty anymore. Wealth is my ultimate aspiration.” I felt no wrong in lying to this man.
Suddenly Gaspar slammed shut the volume he was looking over fiercely. Startled, I stepped back a few feet to distance myself from this unpredictable old hermit. He had the look of a madman. Slowly he raised one wrinkled, knobby finger and pointed it straight at my heart, boring through my deceit, to unearth the reality.
“Liar!” he yelled hoarsely. “That answer had no ounce of truth in it, brigand! Your want is for the love of a woman. One you care for deeply.”
Tears that had been held in their ducts for years finally came free. Cool droplets streamed down my face, much as they did when she was stolen from me. I buried my face in my hands.
“Yes,” I admitted, my voice quivering with grief. “Her name is Jael, the daughter of a slave woman.”
“You were robbed of her, no?” uttered Gaspar. “Forced away by her possessor while you stood watching her vanish into the horizon?”
With a solemn nod and sigh I hung my head low against my chest. This was also to conceal an expression of bewilderment on my face. I had said nothing of Jael’s relocation. Again he surprised me with his expertise in my history. The only means by which he could know these details would be if he observed me my whole life. I was becoming more and more entranced and suspicious of this wise man with each minute that passed. I needed questions answered.
Before I could speak, however, Gaspar carelessly tossed the frail books onto the dirt, spewing out torn sheets and dust clouds into the air. With a cry of alarm, I scrambled to retrieve all the loose pages that fluttered about my hovel and avoid inhalation of the airborne powdery earth.
Coughing aloud, I demanded angrily, “Why would you do such a thing?”
“They are outdated,” Gaspar claimed, not blinking. “It is no wonder you could not produce an effective cure for anything.”
“Outdated? You mean to tell me that there are more…contemporary materials available?” I grumbled sarcastically.
“I suppose you could say that.”
He reached into the folds of his tattered robe and produced another volume. This one appeared to be much newer, with no page torn and no edge frayed. The embossed title glared at me with shining silver letters: Curatio Veneficus , The Curing Magic. Instinctively I reached for the strange work, but then retracted my hand back to its place at my side. Not now.
It was time to challenge the wise man, “Who are you, really?” I pointed accusingly at him, “How do you know my being so intimately, when I have never before even seen your face in my entire life?”
To say the absolute least, at this Gaspar changed. First, growing several feet, he soon towered over me as his slightly arched back straightened and his body strengthened. His elderly visage seemed to vanish as years melted off his appearance, and his beard receded away. His hair blazed from a dull gray to an overwhelming blond. His eyes changed into a virulent white that completely eradicated his pupils and irises. Gone was the feeble, old man I had met hours ago, replaced by the most frightening being I had ever seen. Standing before me was some terrible, supernatural giant, a paradox of reality that would certainly destroy me.
“Foolish mortal!” boomed the voice of the creature. “You think you know much, but in reality your knowledge is a grain of sand as compared to the immortals! You want to know me, Janus? Look upon one who has walked the earth for millennia!”
Although frozen with terror, my mouth seemed to act of its own accord. I heard “What are you?” escape from my lips, and I quickly put my hand over my mouth to stifle my words. He heard.
“What am I?” At this he laughed, a gentle chuckle, but nevertheless one that vibrated the ground beneath my feet. “Seeing who I am truly would melt the very flesh from your bones! I am a mhailari (my lar ee). You might call me an angel, a son of the gods of heaven!”
Amazing! I had been told of the mhailari as a child by Marah. They were divine beings born of the very substance of the gods, created at their whim at the beginning of time. Perfect and mighty like their creators, they stood in alliance with those who followed the gods’ commands, defending them from wickedness, although I never believed they were actually real. Still, this certainly explained his knowledge of me. However benevolent this creature may be though, still I feared for my life as I knelt before my lord. Hopefully this display of respect would postpone whatever judgment awaited me at the hand of this son of god.
His visage seemed to soften, and his vigorous eyes seemed gentler than when I first beheld them.
“Rise, son of the earth,” commanded Gaspar with more authority than I had ever seen any authority from my village execute. “Your cries to heaven have never been ignored. This book is for your benefit. You have our permission to market the treatments found within this text. Use it to your best ability, but I warn you. Nearly all the cures in this text are beneficial, but there is one that outshines them all and promises success to its user. However, this spell is clearly marked as malicious. If such evil magic is carried out, it will come at great cost.”
“If such enchantment is so malevolent, why is it labeled as medicines and placed in the book alongside the beneficial ones?” More and more confusion coursed through my mind. This information was so much for my limited brain to comprehend.
“Think of it as the definitive test for a mortal,” the angel explained. “The masters wish to see how obedient their servant is, and how attuned he is to the will of good. Or if he wishes above all else his own personal gain.”
My thoughts prioritized Jael, and my fright dissipated for a moment. “I do not understand,” I braved, “Why would the gods answer my prayer for help with a test?”
“Their purpose is above yours,” countered the mhailari. “They have consented to aid you. That should be sufficient for you.”
Silently I nodded my approval. Of course he was right. I was in no position to start making any demands, especially any to this spiritual being or whoever commanded him.
“May the wisdom of our divine rulers guide your decisions in this matter,” Gaspar’s words were gentle as he bade me farewell. “I wish nothing but happiness in whatever you undertake. That is my greatest desire.” He smiled Jael’s wonderful smile: perfect, selfless, and loving. Suddenly he disappeared gradually from my vision and before long, only one stood in my earthen home. The strange book, however, remained, lying on the ground where the majestic being once stood.
I cautiously approached the strange text and picked it up. It seemed to radiate from inside with an unearthly glow. Chills came over my body just from holding it. I opened it to the first page, anxious to see what the alien volume contained.
Cures and treatments of all kinds lay before me; nearly every ailment my people had a word for was listed. Anxiously I began reading from the beginning of the volume, soaking in every word. Overtime I would become familiar with the book, both its language and its contents except for the Forbidden. Herein these mystic arts was the tool, the key to rescuing my beloved. I only needed an opportunity, a starting point.
My chance arose several weeks later. The first customer was a reluctant one, a well-respected and wealthy member of my community. He had been suffering from extreme pain in his extremities. His pain was so severe that during the day he would often fall to the ground wailing from the acute stinging or awaken himself and everyone near him in the middle of the night with his cries. This unfortunate man’s family had exhausted much of their wealth on doctors, who were able to diagnose his aching as a lethal blood disease, but could not do much else save make him comfortable for his passing. Out of alternatives, his morose family turned to the last option they had left, me.
I remember how I stared at the messenger they sent in astonishment when he told me I was being summoned for business. He shrugged his shoulders as if he could not believe it either. None of them believed in herbal remedies so naturally this decision was made by skeptical and reluctant people, but they truthfully had no other choice. Oh, how I cringed as I thought about how their stabbing, judgmental eyes would pour scrutiny upon me with every movement of my hands, with every breath I took. This would be the Curing Magic’s first test, and, although the heavenly visit was still fresh in my mind, I was still doubtful that these spells could accomplish anything.
Bringing nothing but the ancient book and what I would need to produce the desired medicine, I hesitantly followed the messenger to the sick man’s home. The richness of the architecture and various costly ornaments showed me someone who cared about his possessions, and my thoughts drifted to the selfish, rich brute who robbed me of my precious love, and for a second, I despised this man I had come to cure. I loathed that he lived in this exquisite place, and I lived in a hole. I detested all he stood for and all he cared about. Suddenly Jael’s gray eyes shattered my hate, and images of her flooded my mind. My purpose renewed, I quietly greeted the family and then set myself to work.
Making a healing potion is not too difficult once you have made a few; it becomes like second nature, although great care must be taken to producing the desired result. Essentially, there are three main parts to creating it. First, your ingredients must be absolutely correct. An incorrect berry or a root harvested at the wrong time can mean the difference between correcting a problem or making it worse. Secondly, the mixture must be stirred precisely and carefully. Spilling could not be tolerated in the very least, and also could affect the outcome of the ill person. Finally, there can be no hesitation. Once the potion is complete, it must be drunk. Otherwise, the potion may spoil, drastically and negatively altering its effects. A single mistake, even one considered trivial, could in all possibility prove fatal.

As I hunted through the old book for the spell I would use, I could not help but notice the Forbidden. It seemed to stand out in the volume, much like it was a tome all its own. I could feel my eyes staring at the unopened section of evil text like a famished child yearning for a piece of bread. My mind screamed at me to open it, to read it, just to catch a glimpse of the words. The allure it possessed was all too enticing, but not now. I shook my head clear of its unclean desire and shot a glance toward my benefactors. They had not taken their eyes off of me since I had entered the house. Nervously I exhaled bottled-up anxiety and tore my gaze from theirs and back to the important, nay, crucial task at hand.

Once I finished the potion, I brought it in a flask before the ailing man. Reluctantly he took it from me and ingested its contents. A few minutes passed unceremoniously. Suddenly he gasped loudly, and looked at me with horror in his eyes, as if I had dealt him the killing blow, but then quickly it passed, and color returned to his pallid face. He sighed and leaned back against his pillow, a smile slowly forming on his face as he drifted into carefree rest. Behind me, I heard the relief and joy escape from his relatives, and I knew I had succeeded. One of them, an older man, took me by the arm and began to discuss matters of my payment. Immediately I knew I loved success.
Another year passed; each day possessed its own challenges, curses, and rewards, and I finally emerged victorious. The gods had indeed blessed me, and the unknown book, now familiar to me, had certainly proved its worth. I finally could pay to rescue my precious love, and newfound success had afforded other luxuries, among these a comfortable home, a horse, and sufficient food. I had much to be thankful for this festival. Above all else, the time had come at long last.
Eager anticipation coursed through me when I discovered where Tycho had made his home. If all went according to plan, Jael would soon be where she belonged, where she would be loved and appreciated, not treated like anything less than human. For a moment I wondered what the old man Gaspar would say if he saw me now. I offered a short prayer to the gods in thankfulness for their most selfless granting of Curatio Veneficus to me. A fiery determination seized me; this would be the perfect use made of their gift. The intended purpose would be accomplished.
My imagination conjured thoughts of Tycho completely taken aback at my arrival at his estate, possessing a wealth equal to his own, this being the first time he would lay eyes on me since his injustice when I was young.
“Was this the simple street urchin I scorned so many years ago?” he would say in disbelief. “The dirty outcast at whom I laughed when I tore the girl from his grasp?”
I would demand my love and return to my home victorious and live out my days in bliss, a family man with a profession now well-respected. My one true love would be my bride, and I would awaken to her beauty each morning. Children would be borne to me, possessing my name, my intelligence, my triumph. My future seemed as bright as the sun burning up the blue in the skies. I drank well to my future success that night.
It was a three day journey from my town to that of the demon’s, so I would need to plan accordingly. I packed food and water, enough for my horse, Angros, Jael, and myself, along with a spare cloak, a woolen blanket, the book, which had scarcely left my side since my first success, and, of course, all the gold I possessed, my lavish token to Jael’s freedom. Saddling Angros, I whispered quiet farewells to the new home I had come to love, then with a swift kick to my horse’s side, began my tedious ride.
The terrain of the area was mostly flat, blank dirt stretching for miles with white rocks dotting the hard earth, although patches of grass sparsely painted the landscape with splashes of virulent green against the brown. Occasionally the sun reflected off of small pools of stagnant water, shooting beams into my eyes and forcing me to shield them. I did not altogether complain. After all, at least there was rainfall this year. Too often rain was a missed rarity in these lands.
The first night was marked by the fire, which I miraculously was able to start using a few sticks and some brush. Its heat was a welcome guest, but fortunately the air did not grow too cold in the location. I made my camp against a small, soft knoll draped in grass incredibly devoid of stones. When I finally lay down, sleep came over me quickly. I did not dream explicitly, but a strange assortment of colors and shapes danced through my thoughts. At one point I thought I could almost see words, although I did not understand their meaning. Suddenly, as if by death, all images dissolved to a thick black.
Awakening at dawn was not a practice I normally followed, but obviously I could not stand to stay asleep, nor could I afford to. Glancing toward the eastern horizon, I could see the sun barely peaking over the distant mountains. I did not allow my mind to linger on the dream of the night before. I ate a quick sustaining meal and, after ensuring my steed was nourished, together we continued our trek.
My horse was a wonderful blessing; he had great endurance and seemed to love to be ridden. I had on multiple occasions thanked the man I obtained Angros from for the apparently superior raising and training he had given. Each time the man appeared none the wiser, giving me the ever-increasing feeling he gave no such guidance to this creature, and that this animal was yet another gift from the gods.
Today’s journey was commonplace save for the evening sighting of some wolves devouring the carcass of some unrecognizable prey. Obviously involved in the meal at hand, the beasts paid us no mind. Angros and I, both terribly weary, retired early that night. He had borne me nearly all day, and I did not wish him to be overworked, especially since he would have the unwelcome burden of two riders on the return journey. Fire came easier that night, and I was soon off again to the haven of slumber.
That night’s sleep was again full and deep. In my dreams, the letters reappeared and began to clarify amidst the swirling reds, yellows, and greens splashed upon my mind. I immediately noticed the words, “Eternus Vita,” “Eternal Life,” as clear as a summer’s day. I knew the words, but I hadn’t the faintest idea as to why I was seeing them in my subconscious. Nigh immediately as if to answer myself, a picture of the open Curing Magic materialized in the background, “Eternus Vita” painted on its white pages. At this I became puzzled as I had never seen these words in conjunction with the book. Suddenly, without warning, a vision of a skull pervaded the entire scene, its hollow death mask infiltrating my thoughts, and empty eyes violating my very soul. Then flames erupted and scorched everything to nothing.
I awoke in a cold sweat; a nightmare. I hadn’t had a nightmare in a decade, not since Jael was taken. My heart fluttered as I attempted in vain to shake the vision of death from my head. What did it mean? What was the significance of “Eternus Vida?” Why was my book involved? And the skull? Questions without answers multiplied within my brain, and the cool, silence of the black night did nothing to pacify my aroused fears. Using the fire’s soft glow as light, I flipped open Curatio Veneficus to take my mind off of the horrible dream. Passing familiar treatments and ones I hadn’t yet tried, I finally came to the Forbidden.

in the europe

2008-07-30T15:53:00.000-07:00

some pictures for you peoples of america. i am still alive, for now. still not used to the time change. hopefully i can get some postcards out soon. i am having a great time so far, just enjoying ourselves, and portraying america in probably the worst possible light ever. (not really, we're just really loud!)
PICTURES TO SEE

. . . .!. . . .

2008-04-20T01:39:00.000-07:00

i suppose i should write a new blog because the old one is outdated as far as im concerned and i dont want to scare anymore people.

God is good, people! thats what i have been learning. he has taken away what i thought i wanted and shown me it is not at all what i need. he is so good!

and now i am thankful to say, i dont even want it anymore. praise him for his faithfulness even in the dark.

now the challenge lies in trusting God to fulfill his promises for me, to give me my future and hope. this is hard but at least my burden has been greatly lightened.

thank God for his joy.

p.s. any single girls...holler at your boy....jk?

a plea for help

2008-04-11T23:27:00.000-07:00

I thought about it again today. The big one, the "s" word. Suicide.

Weakness seems to be a core part of who I am now. Frailty seems to wrap itself around me. I feel like I'm doing well, and then days like today happen, and I'm back to square one.

I thought about her again today: my love, well, my love lost. The pain is so acute even now, as I type this; thinking about her, our relationship, and the way things happened seems to stab me over and over again. I wrote before about how I thought I may be ready for a new relationship and how I wasn't necessarily missing Kristen. Wow! I was so wrong! I am definitely missing her, and I am definitely not ready. I'm still pining after her like a dumb dog.

It makes me angry, how easily and quickly she gave up on me. It hurts to have to consider to myself that she probably didn't love me as much as I loved her. She wouldn't admit it, but I definitely had more dedication. But it also shows me how much I am worth: apparently nothing, because it took, according to my count, two problems for her to dump me, her "soulmate." She would tell you it was many problems, many mistakes on my part; here's the only problem: she never told me about them. They were mistakes I had no idea I was making. But I suppose I'm not worth the trouble and the effort to try and change. Best move onto somebody else. A partier and a pagan, good choice!

So with my self esteem in the garbage, my ability to like another girl and then do something about it nearly completely gone, and my attention focused almost solely on myself and how pathetic I am, I amount to a walking void in my eyes. I am a mass of nothing. I have nothing to attract, and I have nothing to offer. Tonight I prayed that God would cause me to get into an accident and die, so I wouldn't have to be in pain anymore. And the sad part is, I prayed that someone else would hit me, because I'm too afraid to do anything to myself. And to tell the truth, what is even more pathetic is that the only real reason I would hurt myself is so that she would feel a tinge of regret. I know she would get over it quickly, but she would feel. She would know how much I loved her, and she would regret it, if only a little, but my fear of death, pain, and how my parents and brother would react stay my hands from myself.

I don't really want to die, because part of me, I guess the part that God is tugging at, believes this will pass. But what I struggle with here is trusting that God will heal this. I thought he was for a few months until the feeling rushed back a few weeks ago. Now I feel like all the progress I made is gone. Why does God have to be so hard to trust? Why can't I see myself like he does? Why can't I have faith that he is in control?

Depression grips me hard. There are days I don't even want to get out of bed, but I force myself. I cry myself to sleep many nights. She has no idea what she has done to me, how much this has crippled me. I invested everything in her, and my investments proved fruitless.

WHERE IS GOD IN THIS?! I feel so lost at this point. I feel like I am wandering down a path of grief culminating in a lonely, pathetic death. There are days I feel there is no point to be alive.

So I guess this is a plea for help. But the thing is, I don't know how you can help me. I suppose all you can do is pray when you think about me, if you think about me. Pray that God grips me, and holds me close. I really want him here, but I am having no luck in trusting him. Pray he gives me that trust. Pray I see myself as he does: a precious child, who deserves love as much as Kristen does, and a real, selfless love at that. Pray that I believe there is a woman in this world who will love me. Pray that I would not seek love in another person to take God's rightful place. Pray that I gain a hunger and thirst for God's love, peace, joy, and word. Pray for his granting of strength for my soul. Pray that the devil's lies be bound from my ears, and instead may they be flooded with the Father's truth. Pray that I rid myself of my selfishness and instead love others with the passionate love of Jesus Christ. Pray that the Lord is enough for me.

thanks for listening,
stephen

Girls, Girls, Grills

2008-04-07T00:23:00.000-07:00

Ok. Here I am. Stuck again.

I have no idea what I am supposed to be doing. I feel annoyed at work, I am being oppressed at church, and I feel separated from my friends. This would be enough for me to worry about as it is, were it not for the other huge problem looming over my head. The bane of all mankind: the woman. Well, women in this case as a whole; I'm lumping you all together into a pile of evil, a enigmatic whirlwind of confusion, flirtation, and disappointment.

Now, I have been very blessed and fortunate to have such a solid group of "girlfriends" if you will. God knows as a man I need to have a healthy view of women, and he has given me that with these young women. However, that is all they are: friends. Breaking up with Kristen has left me with an emptiness and a loneliness indescribable. I feel akin to Adam; I pretend I hear God say it's not good for me to be alone, and I keep feeling my chest to see if he's taken a rib yet.

Patience has never been my strong suit, and I was so ready to want to marry Kristen, that I think I feel I shouldn't have to wait this long to be on my way to be in that place again with a new girlfriend. I know I'm not ready for marriage, but I don't think I'm not ready for another relationship. Or maybe I do think that. Sure, I miss her, but, I think I'm in the place of missing the aspects of our relationship more than I actually miss her. This whole thing is so confusing.

My self-esteem suffers the most however, and this problem has existed long before Kristen came into my life. I see nothing desirable in myself, outwardly and inwardly. I hate myself. I look at myself, and I hate myself. I hate myself for being that superficial. I hate myself for not seeing myself as God sees me. I hate myself for being so weak. I am nothing. I show interest in girls, and they ignore me (or say they love me for two years then practically pretend it never happened). Even girls I am not interested in see me as some sort of second class. This is such a pathetic tirade against myself, a miserable pity party, and I hate me for that too.

I feel like this whole thing has changed my entire persona, that I can't pursue an interest, a)because I am pretty sure the girl I like is not interested, b)my charm/attractive level is about nil, c) I don't have the courage to even do or say a thing about it, and d)I am unable to even flirt anymore. Now I know flirt may not have been the best word, but how else to describe it? I used to flirt with girls. I flirted with Kris, I flirted with Taylor, I flirted with Victoria, I flirted with Kristen. It preluded all my relationships! Once I dated Kristen, I knew I couldn't do that anymore, and when we started talking marriage, I made it a priority to cut it out of my life. It was a part of who I was. When I did it, I didn't do it to cause the girl to necessarily like me, I did it inadvertently most of the time. But I removed it, and now when I go to hug a girl, or even touch her, even if she's just a friend, and I am not interested at all, my mind switches on an alarm, and my body forces me to perform the action in the most platonic way ever. I'm ruined! How will my "future wife" ever know I am interested in her if I'm too scared to tell her I like her or even touch her!?!?

One may say, "Wow! You worry too much!" Maybe.

Or maybe I really need help. Maybe this is a real problem I can't overcome. Pray.

So I Says To Her

2008-03-16T18:24:00.000-07:00

No, that's not where that goes.
Coffee isn't JUST a beverage.
Trains are great to ride.
My favorite animals are hippos.
Reynolds Wrap is kind of dirty.
Igloos are an ingenious form of home.
Nancy Kerrigan deserved to be punched.
Gasoline should not be drank ever.
Bagels should be free.
Trailer trash is just a state of mind.
Algebra is kinda kinky.

Tiff is crazy!

2008-03-09T00:01:00.000-08:00

My name is Tiffany. I am 18 years old, i currently live with my family in Vista, which includes my nephew who is 14 mo. old who i love taking care of. I have experience caring for children since i was 12. I feel i can relate to children, in many ways by being able to see eye to eye in different circumstances. i am currently working at a Surf shop and i am seeking new employment. I have always loved caring for kids. What is fate? What is destiny? My personal belief is that children are in control of their own futures, but we are able, through brute strength and cunning wit, to force them into doing whatever we want. Nothing coerces a child to do what we want more than a well-placed open slap to the face. My kids learned that the hard way. Many caretakers prefer not to utilize punishment when the children they are responsible for commit a wrongdoing. Not only do I enforce punishment, I actively make use of a hierarchy of sorts. For example, the first time they are bad, I make them stand in a corner. This lulls the youth into a false sense of security; that this is the worst of the punishments, that I am somewhat a pushover. The second time they commit a wrong, I "pull out the big guns" as said in so many of our favorite Westerns, you know, the ones made in an era long forgotten by so many of our miscreant youth. I make use of a skilled roundhouse to the face. From there we graduate to the front left burner of the stove, then I hang them by the neck until they pass out. Next, I start prying off their fingernails and toenails. Finally, I ask them to pick one finger or toe they dislike, then I sever it. Now, I know what you're probably saying by now, "Wow! What a responsible, beautiful, and intelligent young lady!" and I know, I know, you hit the jackpot with me. But, the way I see it, if you really want me to work for you, I feel you need to know me a lot more personally. If you were to ask me to pick my top favorite movies they would be (in no particular order) 1)Fatal Attraction, 2)Basic Instinct, 3)The Omen, 4)Natural Born Killers, and 5)You've Got Mail. My favorite music is probably your child crying. My favorite subjects in school were Chemistry, Fire Sciences, and Child Development. And were I forced to choose, my favorite torture is putting the children in my specially designed underground airlock chamber. They like it. I guess I've dated before, but my boyfriends have been more like week-long flings, with guys who closely resemble the Fonsz. Pretty much any guy with a motorcycle or leather or metal studs. My favorite foods are anything fleshy or that once contained blood. The truth is, tomatoes are indeed fruit, despite the fact that many people think otherwise. Well, long story short, I feel that I would be a good hire, because I'm good with numbers, I have great multi-tasking skills, and I have a class B license. The only thing to make sure of, before I come is that you have no polka dot or plaid patterns in your house. When I see them, I break out into a Hulk-like, murderous rage. It happened once.....so much blood.
Love,
Tiffany

Confusion Abounds

2008-03-06T14:23:00.000-08:00

I am really struggling with some stuff in my life. I have been struck down with grief, and I am having the hardest time rebounding from it. It's affecting my life in ways I never thought possible. I have no idea on how to proceed. Trusting God is becoming harder and harder.

Window Into Me Pt. 1

2008-02-28T13:24:00.000-08:00

I am still young, and have my whole life ahead of me, but I have already accomplished and felt many things. I have seen life come into this world, and I have seen it leave it. I have known what it means to love as much as someone can love another, and I have had my heart broken, and I have felt pain I never want to experience again. I have tasted fear, and I have been courageous. I have known what it means to have someone open their heart to you, and I have been lied to outright. I have been strong in tempation, and I have failed. I have seen God, and I have turned from him. I am as much a man, and I have seen enough of this world, as anyone.

Youtube....so stupid, yet so appealing

2008-02-28T13:01:00.001-08:00

I want to make funny videos on youtube. I have no idea why, but I think I just want people to say I am humorous. I think I could make a popular video, but I have no idea what to make one about. I am idealess...(word?) Parody videos are lame, music videos are lame. I need a solid concept, original and beautiful in every way. I am have-ing extreme difficulty in producing one. If only the creativity fairy would come down and plant a big, fat magic blast right in the face. Until that wondrous and magical day, I must sit and conceptualize....

Life After Grief

2008-02-06T11:11:00.000-08:00

Well, it has been a while since my last blog, and a lot has happened. Kristen and I broke up back in December for good, and I am devastated. It has been almost two months, but I feel like I haven't improved much. I'm stuck in what seems to be some accursed middle ground, where on one hand I know I need to get over her and move on with my life (and I want this), but on the other I still am very much in love with her, and I want her back with me (I want this more I think). However, the latter seems very much unlikely as she is with another guy and is serious about him. What still gives me hope though is that this guy is not better than me. He may be financially more secure, older and more ready for marriage, or even more courteous at times (which is always how the guy acts in the beginning), but his relationship with God seems weak at best. I don't believe the Lord is his priority, but at the same time I don't think he is her's either. True, they both may go to church or church group, but I think that's all there is. If I am to be a true contender for Kristen's love, her desires and her loves have to change. I cannot date her again if Jesus is not her true love first, and I think she has lost sight of that for now. Plus, she would have to love me again, and I don't know if she'd be willing to open herself up like that again to me, unless I change, and she sees the change in me, and even then, stubborness cripples people.

What hurts me the most through this whole thing, is she doesn't know how much I see in her, and how much I love what I see in her. God has let me see her potential for him, and it is enough to make any man fall in love with her. She is beautiful on the outside, and I have seen her beauty on the inside as well, and that's what makes her so hard to give up. Plus, she has been the only girl who really cared for me; the only girl I truly loved in all meanings of the word; the only girl who saw behind the facade of outer appearances, and saw me-who I was!

What I am struggling with is faith. Faith that God has someone for me. Someone who can do all the things Kristen could in our relationship, but better. I'm having a hard time accepting that it probably isn't Kristen. I look in a mirror and see myself, both outside and in, and I know that no girl would ever love me. I see my past, and I say "There is too much pain and grief here; no woman would ever want to be a part of that." I look at my heart and think, "You have been broken. Nobody will ever be able to fix it in the way you want." I look at my life, and I feel I have nothing left to offer. My self-esteem has plummeted so far down, I am at a loss how to climb out of this pit I have created. I know God is here, but he seems distant.

I thought I would overcome this, but it seems to be overcoming me. I try and try and try, but I feel like I am going nowhere. I pray for direction and peace, but all I feel is chaos and turmoil. I ask the feelings for Kristen to be taken away, but they come on stronger than before. I just wish I knew what to do, I wish I had the answers for myself, but I feel more and more confused each day. I wish I could handle this, but I'm not sure if I'm strong enough.

I'm not sure if I'm holding myself back. I wonder if there is something I'm doing that is keeping me from moving on. I'm not in contact with her, so it's not that. I'm not reading her myspace or facebook, so it's not that. I'm not talking to her friends, so it's not that. I'm avoiding places she frequents or even may go, so it's not that. I think about her, but I try not to dwell on those thoughts. I write about her, but it's an outlet for my feelings, not an inlet. I pray for her, but how is that bad?! I hope for her love again, but that is a failed hope, and I'm not going to be a diehard for that. I am working hard to better myself: trying to finish school, staying busy at work and with my friends, and bettering my relationship with God. I honestly don't know what's keeping me back.

Maybe nothing is, and this is normal. I don't know. I just hope that the light at the end of my tunnel comes soon, because I feel like I'm wallowing in darkness, without any hope.

important historical viewings of me the....guy

2007-12-19T05:51:00.000-08:00

so tomorrow i get to see the dead sea scrolls in the san diego history museum. for those of you uninformed peeps those are the oldest manuscripts of Old Testament scripture (and a few commentaries) that have been discovered to date. Carbon dating puts them at roughly 300 to 100 BC, at the least a little over a hundred years before Christ! They were found in the 1940s in caves by Bedouin shepherds, and I get to see them.

Tickets are like $25, so go see them if you have a chance. Unless you dont care about historical things or Jesus......then dont.......um

yeah.

Good Lord! School again?

2007-08-21T10:12:00.000-07:00

First myspace, now blogs. Well, technically blogs came first, whatever. It seems like there will always be some dumb, mundane thing to do on the Internet when you have nothing else to do, and you feel like wasting time. My class doesn't begin for another forty minutes, so I will muse for a while. The fall semester has begun, much to my dismay, although I only have two suffer two classes, Philosophy 102 and French 101. Why French, you may ask? I need only 7 or so units left before I can earn my Associate in Arts Degree and move on to graduate school, and those units must be selected from a particular group of classes. French was one of them, and since language graciously comes generally easy for me, I figure this class will be a breeze. The other course is part of this requirement as well. Well, what else? Work is going pretty well, aside from the fact that it is indeed, Wal-Mart. Working in retail is one thing, working at Walton R. Us is completely another. Too much to go into though. I got my yearly review yesterday, and I received an overall "exceeds expectations" evaluation for my performance, which is good; "exceeds expectations" is like getting an "A." For my achievements, I get a sixty cent raise bumping me up to a whopping $9.30 an hour, which is desirable. What else? My work at church is going great, I really enjoy doing junior high, I definitely could see me doing stuff like this for my career. I feel like God is really making it clear to me that this is what He always wanted me to do. It's awesome to be receiving that validation. TNL is the best! God has blessed me with a great group of kids, though they get a little rowdy sometimes, who have a desire to do what's right and follow what the Bible says. Anyways that's all from me for now.

Laters

Stephen

i deleted the 'i deleted tom' group

2006-12-17T01:31:00.000-08:00

i never thought i'd be writing a blog about that darn group, but here it is:

that group sucked too much and deserved to die for the following reasons:

1.) spamming sucks, no matter what, and i hate deleting it, so when i get 20 messages a day telling me to delete spam, i can't help but notice

2.) banning folks from the group is time consuming, and the whole deleting spam and banning spammers go hand in hand, and i don't have the stomach to stay on myspace for more than fifteen minutes...so....do the math or something

3.) the only president there ever was or would have been would be me. i don't care what little gay elections you had inside my group, you never had any real authority, i just didn't care enough to ban you

4.) all the cool people who were EVER in that group were long gone, because of little stupid idiots with computers like you. thanks for ruining a good thing, jerks.

5.) last post games are for five year olds

6.) 'your first impression of the person above'? this would only matter if you were interviewing people for a job, and you're not so no one really cares for your opinion

7.) addressing all biker 'babes' and goth chicks: no one will ever love you

8.) i feel like talking about that last post thing again: STOP WASTING YOUR EFFIN TIME

9.)lamp stopped posting :(

10.) no one had gotten the REAL tom to post in that group since the good ol days before all your stupid people

so that's pretty much it.

R.I.P. The Official "I Deleted Tom From My Friends List Cause He's Not My Friend " Club.
Founded December 3, 2004
Members: 6,034

May you come back better than before.

And I swear on my mother's grave, if any of you try to steal that group from me, I will report you to the myspace admins. Merry Christmas!

Stephen!

school is el diablo

2006-12-04T15:22:00.000-08:00

mostly cause im operating on almost no sleep...its over finally!

the convert's thoughts

2006-02-02T13:05:00.000-08:00

The Light burns my eyes with its golden rays;
I have never been outside the darkness before.
And I love it-a whole new world opened for me;
I never want to return to my miserable past.
Always been confined to a life of stumbling,
An existance of confusion and of unclarity.
And who can speak of the lonliness experienced?
The pain of always calling out for someone-anyone-
Receiving no answer, not even the echo of my own voice
But the sound dissolving into the shadows of my heart.
Then I saw it, the glimmer, the small sparkle.
The tiny gleam of Love bright against the black.
And I am drawn to it, curious, like a cat.
I long to be near it, it seems to beckon me to it.
And I want it for myself; to give off my own light.
In doing so, also share Love to others who need it.
Now that I have it, I will never forget you.
For it is you, brother, who showed Jesus to me.

today sucks and right now i am writing

2005-10-27T09:44:00.000-07:00

from the stone that is cold....

today started off decent. i got my usual 5 hours of sleep then woke up. woot. off to tennis. we were actually on time today which was random. after tennis i took jon home to grab his boooook. alright no problems there. i get back to school. i decide to write my paper for my english class which is due on tuesday instead of actually going to world literature. well, i get about a page or two out of five written before i went to anthropology. imagine my dismay while shuffling through my backpack i come across the world lit syllabus and discover that a test was today: for the class i skipped earlier today. suck! well i tried to push it out of mind and participate and contribute to anthro. i get back to my car after class to go home and BAM! parking ticket. turns out my permit fell off my rearview mirror sometime in between me getting out of my car and me getting back in it. so i have pay 30 bucks for some dumb citation. and so i have that looming over my head as well as the exam thing. now i get home and me and my mom fight over laundry and other meaningless crap. then i came here, to work, where i have to help the endless mob of people that want ice cream on a day that is perfectly unsuitable for any type of frozen treat, much less ice cream. i hope it rains on them. anyways......pray that i have a better attitude. i just want to go to sleep.

yay for all my friends who make everything seem better than it actually is. it may actually be better rather than just seem better, but i'm still trying to generate sympathy.

pulled over.

2005-10-08T14:03:00.000-07:00

so last night i was pulled over for speeding
it was the first automobile related run-in with the POlice i have had
no ticket though. he thought we were drinking, but then we said we were christians and hes like, "oh. slow down." then he left

praise God for not getting tickets! yay Jesus!

7-11 is pretty much my favoritest place ever-on top of that wednesdays in general rock my socks

2005-10-06T18:09:00.000-07:00

ok since all the cool people are doing this i will too
to all my sevies pals-you are amongst my most favorite people in the whole world. i feel open and able to laugh at myself and have an awesome time around all of you. i realize i am 95f the time either screeching like a banshee or jumping over jessica's truck (or doing something else to it) or throwing crumb donuts at dana, colleen, or victoria, i really enjoy every minute of time i get to spend with you

heres to all yall

Donny: Dude, you are like my best friend now. From diving boards at Kevan's grad party to you almost roundhousing me in the face, we have been through a lot already. I can tell you anything. Thanks for being a great influence around me. We will be friends for pretty much ever. Pickles.

Tim: I was gay first, and that is why I won. Sir, you make me feel like dancing. I met you at the tables last year, and I thought to myself, "This guy is cool." And then you cut your hair and I pretty much hated you. Just kidding....but not really. You have been an awesome spiritual influence. Stay firmly planted. I believe in a thing called love.

Colleen: Two words. Tennis. And dodgeballthatonetimewhereiwasoutandthensomeonemadeacatchsoicouldgobackinandthenassoonasicamebackinigrabbedaballandgotyouout
You are awesome for the following reasons. 1)You carry a guitar in your trunk. 2)In same trunk it contains pillow and blanket. 3)You can kick my butt at tennis. 4)You can kick my butt in general. 5)Youre just awesome. I could describe you in many more, intelligent words, but this will have to do.

Victoria: Always able to make me smile. I constantly look forward to what seems like your hourly comments. I love every one. I also love how you're often quiet and then all of a sudden youll perk up with some witty retort or just something dumb like last night when you just up and threw your shoe across the parking lot. HA. Don't ever leave me. I will cry. When are you leaving; Nov?. Yeah. Im going to stop you.

Michelle: I have known Tim longer than you, but oh well, you still are awesome, and I am proud to know you. Plus, you can seriously beat the crap out of me. And I respect that in a woman (even though I am pretty much forced to).

Jessica: What to say? What to say? You're insane. And it is awsome. I am tempted to say I love your truck more than you, but that just isn't true. And yes, that was my leg. Every. Single. Time. Also, ease on the brakes when im in the back so I dont break my head.

Mark: I don't need to say much; I'll see you later, baby. I mean, oh, um...awkward...you....are...cool? Yes, you ARE COOL! And you have hilarious stories, and kids! Yay daddys!

you guys rule

Stephen

in n out fun!

2005-10-04T19:15:00.000-07:00

about an hour ago....i got like the biggest frickin burger ever

24x24!!!!!!!!!!

thats 24 patties!

anyways couldnt eat all of it so.....me and kevin and micaela blew it up with firecrackers in the parking lot...meat all over the place....whee
the end

spirit west coast 2005

2005-05-30T16:40:00.000-07:00

was a blast!there are so many memories just from this weekend
this was seriously one of the best weekends of my life! no doubt!
God is definitely real! If you dont know him, talk to me and i can tell you how it is possible to know him.

Favorite Memories
1. Earning almost ten bucks from playing my guitar right in the middle of the del mar plaza (that one little girl dumped her whole wallet change in my case)
2. Getting a free rock climb thing for advertising with the guitar
3. Totally annoying and or exhorting everybody with my guitar (a lot of guitar ones)
4. Starting the mosh pits during Haste the Day/Norma Jean when we werent supposed to
5. Starting the hardcore dancing pit and Norma Jean huddles (NORMA JEAN! NORMA JEAN!)
6. Getting molested (not really but almost) by a security guard
7. Looking at the towers (hahaha)
8. Making fun of all the scooter kids at the skate park
9. Meeting and chilling with Showbread
10. Getting Emery shut down for moshing (we love them that much!) (hey, at least we waited until their last song)
10.5. Throwing glow sticks at the C28 stage speaker and hitting him dead on
11. Fleeing for my life away from Mark who had mascara (makeup, when it is not on girls, scares me)
12. Singing scary ghost SONGS with Carlos, David, Levi, and the rest of the crew from Nevada (oh and who could forget the doowop)
13. Meeting those "eighteen" year old girls who ran the charm bracelet stand
14. The dude from Thorn Clothing (Barf Construction- Dont worry about anything, theyll just throw it up)
14.5. Having a total girl posse and making all the guys jealous (even if they wont admit it)
15. Seeing Showbread, Spoken, Haste The Day, Norma Jean, Emery, Project 86, Tree63, Ever Stays Red, and a bunch of other bands
16. Walking around the shower trailer naked cause no one else was in there
17. Getting my lighter confiscated (well, actually it sucked)
18. Not eating for 48, i mean, 52, i mean 72 hours!
19. UDDERS!
20. Getting closer to God and friends (this should really be the first one but hey, i saved the best for last)

there were a lot more but they would pretty much be repeats or almost repeats so i wont waste....typing space...any ways have a blessed week

confrontations at walmart! sam walton would be outraged!

2005-05-22T15:14:00.000-07:00

about a week ago me and my friend david went to buy a bb gun to shoot rabbits with, we found this ok one for about 70 bucks so we got it, at the checkout, the cashier asked for id to validate that i was of age to purchase said gun, well, being a loser, and not having a license, i showed her my permit as it has my dob and a (faded) picture of me. consequently, she hesitantly sold me the rifle. about a week later, being today, we went to return my gun and obtain a new one, being thouroughly displeased with my previously owned rifle's performance. we found a decent one and proceeded to purchase it. in the same fashion, i proceeded to use my drivers permit as proof of eligible age and i even provided my palomar college identification as it has a much clearer picture of me (not necessarily better taken; i look much hotter in my permit picture). this time however, the cashier (not the same one) told me that she could not accept my permit as valid id. my friend and i quickly recanted our history at this very walmart a week earlier, to which she left to get her manager. the manager echoed her associate in that it was not valid. curious to know why, though the id clearly stated i was eighteen, i could not purchase this device, we pursued an investigation of this matter. my friend, who is also eighteen and posseses a license, could not even purchase the gun for me, because it was going to be for me, even though i am legally allowed to own and operate the firearm. we questioned a police officer concerning these occurrances, and he pointed out that this was a walmart policy, that they have to have a valid picture id to sell products such as the one we attempted to. of course he was able to explain in a far more pleasant and understandable way, which the associates at university drive wal mart were unable to. But we are still outraged that they would sell us a gun one week, then deny our money another. sam walton would be outraged! if he was there hed be like, "give those boys their guns, how can you deny a boy a gun?" I LOVE THE SECOND AMENDMENT!!!
in short we just went to another walmart and got the gun there, and i must say, the gun is pretty frickin sweet, and we killed a rabbit, and there was blood, ah!

F*** EMO

2005-05-07T04:27:00.000-07:00

ok so last night some "metal" guys yelled eff emo really loud at some "emo" kids
i thought there was gonna be a brawl

the end

cops suck----

2005-04-29T15:52:00.000-07:00

so i was at the bowling alley
cause i wanted to bowl con mis amigos
but it cost money JUST TO WALK IN THE DOOR
and plus they had hiphop/rap music playing which is gay so i was like screw this
so walking back to the car there is this awesome wall
which was formulated like especially for wall runs and jumps
so i did...but then bein stupid i was like hey i wonder whats on the other side of this here wall so i climbed it...not realizing till i was on the roof that this was as i said connected to the roof
so an officer of the law says to me "get down!"
so i immediately did, being a good law abiding citizen, or so i think
were getting ready to leave but the cop yells at me "i said get over here!" as i didnt hear him the first time he said get over here i apologized and stated this fact. he asked me what i was doing, and i flat out told him, climbing the wall (duh!) upon when he told me to put my hands behind my back and spread my legs, by this time i was utterly confused on why this police officer was getting ready to arrest me, until he made his opinion known that i was going to rob the place. wanting to avoid confrontation i merely denied this accusation (without pointing out the open back door with no one standing guard which would have made an even easier robbery), and told him my true buisness merely thinking that it was an unconnected wall, like a dumpster wall or something of that nature, but i guess he was too stressed or something to care about what i was really doing
"get outta here!!" he yelled at me
"go where?" i asked seeing as the car was clearly in the opposite direction he was indicating
"just go that way! i wanna see you walking down west vista way!"
i began walking in the way he was pointing towards, barely keeping myself from commenting that this was vista village drive and he had no idea what he was talking about. i felt that this wasnt going to go over well, with him seeing as he was already perturbed. so theres my lifestory tonight

a poem

2005-04-26T04:50:00.000-07:00

as i call out to you in the darkness
i scream your name
but my cries echo in the abyss
and evaporate into nothingness
before they ever reach your ears
i stand before your face
although i am naught but a phantom
a specter, invisible to the senses
i reach for your hand
but it is like grasping air- immaterial
your scent tingles my nose
i remember your sweet fragrance
now it seems to mock me in my sorrow
as does every other aspect of your being
what has happened? what made you go?
was it something i said? something i did?
or is it simply fickle nature, not something
i am able to control, i will probably never know
i can do nothing but weep in this blackness
this coldness that eats at my very soul
loneliness is like a parasite, devouring my spirit
sorrow overtakes me like a bandit
leaving me for dead, a victim to love's cruel torture
emotions whirl like a hurricane, a destructive force
tearing away at my inmost being
did you feel this way at all?
no remorse when you released my hand?
no pain when you turned away?
do you have any realization of what you have done?
you have toyed with my heart like some sick game
treated it as nothing, shattering it within your hands
those soft hands that grate me to shreds
and i can do naught but weep - weep!
i am behaving like a girl and this-
this is what i sob over - a girl!
and you do not cry? how reversed this is
not even a tear is shed concerning me!
if i could make you feel an ounce
of the pain i experience- my agony
you would surely cave under the pressure
what keeps me from going insane?
to tell absolute truth i know not
perhaps hope; hope that we have a future together
it is what i desire and what i thought you did as well
am i wrong? please say it is not so...
loving you is torturous, what a pathetic man am i
just tell me what to do to make it right.
i will do anything you ask of me
do not trample upon my broken heart
it only desires to beat for you

i took the road less traveled by

2005-04-18T18:04:00.000-07:00

I saw two paths divulged in wood
This will never work
You are different than I
We cannot walk hand in hand
I am called to much higher
Higher than you
Tears burn my cheeks
But I brush them aside
My heart is broken
But it still beats
Don't you see
You are the one
Who must change
For I am already changed
And that has made all the difference
Silence clamps my tongue
And so it must remain
I must walk away from you
And I am unable to tell you I love you
Lest I fall

angel relocated

2005-04-14T15:47:00.000-07:00

by stephen byrne

Black,
Cold,
Death
Is all life is to me now
Since you were taken
I remember
Looking at your eyes
Closed, Covered with the
Frost of death
I remember
Kissing your pale lips
That never again
Could kiss me back
I remember
Clutching your hand
Limp and frail
Only wishing your fingers
Would clasp mine
One more time
Where there was light
There is nothing but shadow
The doves of peace
Have become ravens of carrion
As I stand here
Now I know
You will never cry again
Feel no more pain
Yet while your joy
Is now complete
Here my heart hurts
To the point of breaking
I can't contain my
Tears of sorrow
That pour forth from
My burning eyes
My God
My God
Take me away now
Carry me in your arms
I don't want this
World anymore
But yet I must remain
But one request I make
O Father, kiss her everyday
And say it is from me

bam!

2005-04-10T18:34:00.000-07:00

Oh how it comes on again, these emotions like rushing water
But alas, rivers only flow one direction, so it is with my love.
These emotions weigh like a boulder inside my very being.
This is the stone on which my heart is shattered
Day by day I reassemble the shards only to break them once again.
When will I ever learn the lesson that makes me a fool?
When will I put on the mantle of ignorance and be free?
For without these feelings of infatuation and adoration, I am liberated
From the chains of un-returned love, yet I am a dull and pointless creature
Without them...
What point is there to life if I cannot love?

How I long for the one who will share her life with me...
How I eagerly await the day she will fall asleep in my arms as we lay together
Whispering "I love you" in my ear as she slowly closes her eyes succumbing to slumber while I stroke her hair.
How long will I have to wait until I awaken to her smiling face in the morning as she kisses my lips to rouse me?
How long until I hold her perfect hand in mine, memorizing the creases in her palm until I know their pattern as well as I know my own self?
Oh, God! How my heart breaks! Take my heart, Oh Jesus, and make it fully Yours! You are my first love, and I will not forget You. Hold me in Your arms to keep me from falling into the depths.

two blogs in one day? i want a bagel!!!!!

2004-10-26T16:36:00.000-07:00

i just feel like talking about nothing so i will list random facts i learned this week
WEEK OF SUN.8-6 - SAT. 8-13
1. Target sometimes forgets to ring things up. Plus, they also sometimes forget to install their little security devices in said things. Thus, sometimes you can get stuff free from Target.
2. Taco Bell is disgusting (I havent eaten there in about three years, so i technically didnt learn this fact i just felt like posting it)
3. Many people take Halo 2 way too seriously...
4. Pine nuts
5. Futons can be a great place to hit the hay
6. Food 4 Less sells cheap soda (12 pack for $1.88)
7. Wal Mart sells cheap soda (2 liter for $.58)
8. Vons doesn't sell cheap soda (stay the frickin heck away from there)
9. Those pool floats actually don't float you above water; they just keep you from going under
10. Good Charlotte should be incinerated
11. Gargantuan is a funny word
12. Just because you're a cop don't mean YOU can speed!
13. McDonald's makes me vomit

eh....