Children, War. Same Sentence.

Today I woke up at 11am. I proceeded to go outside and where a t-shirt. It was 73 degrees. It looked like it might rain. I threw a sweater in my bag along with headphones, some tortilla's and a sleeping bag. Everything you could possibly need for a good old fashioned protest. Then I headed downtown to The Rescue which is an awareness campaign for ending children being used as soldiers in Uganda. It was put on by Invisible Children which I am sure many, if not all, of you have heard of. The goal was simply to get media attention and to get celebrities, politicians, and others of high social status to come and "Rescue" us. It was cool. It looked like there about 1000 or so people there. It was 3:30pm. and it was 73 degrees and cloudy.
I got on the train. Headed downtown. Got off the train (believe it or not) and ended up meeting some friends who were already there. Within 15 minutes we were marching around the city holding on two a rope like we were preschoolers in single file. People were stopping us to ask what it was for and one of us (mainly my friend Kirsten) would kindly explain what all the hub-ub was about.
About 15 minutes into our walk it started to rain a little bit. But everyone agreed how much they missed being outside, comfortable and wearing t-shirts when it rained. Even though it was a really heavy thing that we were marching for... we were having fun. We arrived after marching about 1 mile or so at Buckingham Fountain. There was a pause in line movement. I had been doing a lot of thinking about why I was even there most of the day and so I decided to bring up a couple of things that were on my mind with my friends. I conveyed how disconnected I felt with the whole thing. How could I even begin to understand children fighting a war? That does not make any sense to me. That is beyond cruelty that I know of. I have heard of many cruel things. But the closest thing that I personally know of is probably just neighborhood punks stealing my bike when I was 12.
We didn't really talk about it too long but I felt like there were other people there who could sympathize with me. Not that I needed any sympathy. I don't.
Then, it started to really rain. And when I say rain... I mean I have lived on the earth for 21 years and have maybe felt rain and wind this strong 1 other time. And then it got colder. There was a moment where we all looked at each other and commented as to how it felt like it got 15-20 degrees colder instantly. It got down to 42 degrees without windchill in the matter of a half hour and then it rained even harder. Then it stopped. and then... a nameless friend (KIRSTEN!!!!!!) found a tarp in her bag. She swore she didn't know though so its okay. But I'm still pissed.
Needless to say, I was beyond miserable. My hands were numb. Every inch of my body was soaking wet. My shoes were puddles. And we were standing in an open field by a giant lake on the brink of a tornado.
After a couple hours I couldn't take it. I left with the intention of coming back after eating something because I also had only eaten a couple tortilla's for my entire days diet. After leaving my group I just up and left the whole thing. I went to Chipotle and then went straight home. Got in the hottest shower I have ever taken, listened to Bon Iver and relaxed.
And some of you may see where I am going with this.
Lets go back to my thoughts earlier. Truly connecting with this cause was almost impossible for me. I am so used to immediately ready showers, warmth, food and not to mention kindness from all of my christian friends that children fighting a war on the other side of the world must not be true.
But it is....
and I am not sure what to do with that. But today at least made me think.... and that's good and all. But these are heavy thoughts. Children, War. Same Sentence. And where am I? I'm taking hot showers and relaxing after being miserable for a mere 2 hours. I'm concerned with my new song sounding too much like Bon Iver because I have been listening to him so much.
But honestly, the worst part is that I am probably not going to change. I like being comfortable. So I'll ignore the homeless, the broken-hearted, the depressed, the child soldiers etc. until I grow up and become a man. There is so much more that should go into this but I feel a little overwhelmed by it right now. Peace. (thats ironic)

For My Two Followers!

I have written some poetry/lyrics from the past weeks that is beginning to take shape. As a first real post of thoughts, here they are.

Wake Up Darling

Wake Up
He dewed the grass in our front yard
He woke the sun and murdered dark

Let's Walk
Talk between the gusts of wind
walk home to wake our sleeping kids

Back up
to waterfall, to park bench
to love made, to first kiss
Back Up
to beach walk, to stay warm
to late night, to big storm

Wake Up,
to calm skin and a water glass
to bagged eyes and aching back

Wake Up
to white, plain, blank ceiling
to a cold sweat, to clenched fists, to bit lip, to held tongue, to red eyes, to bird's sarcastic, cynical-in-your-face songs.

So I'm waiting till dawn to fall Asleep
For if love is like war than bury me

Welcome!

Welcome,
There is a lot to say. I feel like I might need to sum up all of my experience for you in this first blog for contextual purposes. Then everything else will make much more sense. But maybe I should start fresh. It might give me more credibility depending on what you might think of my past life. If you know me as a body and not as a blog than you already know of some of my experience and it might just be re-iteration. Also, a life story would be hard work and I will be the first to admit that I have been stricken with laziness at this point in my life. So.... I'm starting fresh. I have convinced myself.
One of my friends and roommates has a blog in which he pointed out the reasons for which people blog. I quote, "People blog under one of two presumptions: 1. That they have something worth saying 2. That someone cares what they have to say." He continues in wisdom with this: "While I make no assumptions about the latter, I hold higher hopes that in the Lord's grace my thoughts can contribute to the growth of other people. The written word is powerful and can take people to deep places."
This is a particularly wise friend and I am going to also make no assumptions about other people wanting to listen to what I have to say but more importantly my hope is that God's grace will be upon my thoughts and that he will work through them.
Lastly and humbly, I will say that my thoughts are weak and that if any strength is shown it is not because of me being great but it is because there is a God that is trying to be a part of me that is shining through my brokenness. I am too young, too influenced by the culture around me, and am not a genius. I am very confident of these things. All I will do is try to be as honest as possible and hopefully that can be respected by readers. If not than feel free to attack my ideas. I will probably cry but I will get over it. Maybe.




-BV