I'm moving again.

Apparently, I like to move around a lot.
Or start over.
I'm sure if I had the financial capabilities, a car, and the courage to leave everything behind, I'd honestly just pick up and leave whenever I wanted to - which makes me wonder what that says about my personality.

http://almosttainted.blogspot.com/

See you there!

Have fun :)

Because You Couldn't Sleep

The Aftertaste - Ben Lee

I originally had left this post as a personal draft of some sorts and had no intention to finish it... but on this cold Los Angeles-wintry day, I feel that it's appropriate for my readers to absorb...


The aftertaste of something absolutely amazingly delicious, usually isn't always as tasty as the first bite, and yet we continue to go back for more and more. It's funny how that works. Essentially, I would have continued on and described how it is analogous to our lives; however, today I have a different outlook. I prefer the aftertaste today. I'm not sure how I felt about it yesterday or how I will feel tomorrow, but today I prefer it. Like it? No. Prefer it? Yes. I prefer it not necessarily under the circumstances that I would like to go back for more, but under the circumstances that I gain so much more from it rather than the first, second, and third bite.

Sometimes, it takes much more than the experience for us to understand the lesson. It takes the consequences, the reaction, the reflection, the rebuking, the a-hah! moments, and finally the conclusion and closure period for everything to finally fall into place.

When most hear the word "aftertaste" it immediately brings about heartache, heartbreak, and the unsubtle factors in a broken relationship or friendship; and although, true and appropriate, why not take the aftertaste as the actual richness and boldness of Godiva's chocolate rather than the weird stickiness left on your tongue after devouring it. The climax is the aftertaste - the time where you conquer all, and the time where it is no longer just a song or just another end to a simple process.

Embrace your aftertaste.

Digital Versus Abstract

In a single moment...a single minute, second, millisecond...a gasp for air, a breath...every aspect of stability, of comfort, of truth, of understanding can be taken away. I ofter used to look at my life as trivial and normal - the loneliness, the hurt, the abandonment, the pressure, the identity loss... But I've come to realize that loneliness should never be a norm. Being truly unhappy, discontent, and living in fear of the world around you should never, ever have been a normal for me or anyone else. But strangely, I never recognized that until God stripped me of all, in that single moment.

It has taken me approximately 4 terrible growth spurt years called high school, 2 large roller coaster years called college, a few broken friendships and relationships, throwing myself in and out of places... 2 months, 3 days, a few hours, and a couple minutes to finally understand who Ainsley is. The Ainsley that was known was never known by me but only by the world.

In times when each day was surrounded by people, I was the epitome of loneliness...at my climax of being lost and estranged from my life. When being joyful and content meant simply obeying others' standards of who I was and receiving approval for following those standards, I simply dug myself deeper into my hole of isolation and distrust.

God stopped truly being a part of who I was for a very long time, simply because, on top of a loss of identity, being loved by Him became a world of can's and cannot's, do's and dont's...

Whoever said it all was in the name of His love? Last time I checked, Jesus had sacrificed Himself so that we would have truly loving relationships with Him that did not revolve around rule-setting and following and condemnation for rule-breaking. Apparently even I didn't get the memo...

But despite it all God never let me out of Him reach...He knocked me over the head with His reality, with His plans, His needs and wants from me whether or not I wanted to or was ready to accept any of it. He shook me and said, "I love you and whatever the world has made and defined you, it is not how I have always seen you and defined you. You are so much more than a failed project...a broken girl...a lost individual..."

I guess, because of my more logical side that revolves around research, numbers, equations, and visible statistics and logistics... much of this still doesn't make much sense to me. Usually when I leave, people don't come after me or even ask why I leave. They let go of me more so than I ever had let go of them. It's simply become a mindset that leaving always means never coming back... and that I am not found because it's not worth the trouble, the energy, the effort or time... to fight for, to help, to save... but God being His amazing and unconditionally loving self couldn't even let the weakest and most broken go astray...

Strangely, God has also begun to shine light on those around me to show me that they are capable of loving me, too - me, small and lost...despite my stupidity and tendencies to burrow up in a ball in difficult times... Love is possible. Oh, what is this madness?

Maybe it's time I finally stopped holding on to brokenness and start accepting something so much larger than me and my numbers...

Love...is actually there.

Paper Route

In our lives, it suffices for us to believe in second chances, to give second chances, and to embrace second chances. And yet, despite what we should believe in, what we should give, and what we should embrace, we take the opposite route. But what about those that did believe, did give and did embrace? Where are those people left? Where am I left? In the back of my mind and at the deepest depths of my heart, a soft spot always remained - that whole lot of love ready to burst into the world and shower all humanity. But like a eroded rock cemented in the shores along the ocean, slowly, slowly, it's wearing away from the crashing of the waves, the violent winds sweeping up sand across my back, and the careless stamping of others' feet. But then I ask myself, who am I to give up so easily on love? To be unable to freely hand over platters of second and third chances, when here I am given another chance to live a free life? A gift, a sacrifice undeserved! As my human mind will have it, I allow my selfishness, my hurt pride, and my supposedly broken heart obstruct the true and unconditional love I've been given and should be giving. And as it were, I fail to understand and finish this Paper Route of Second Chances.*

Now to an actual trail of papers - studying.

Listening to: (Paper Route - Second Chances)*

Figured you wouldn't understand without the footnote.

The What-ifs Syndrome

Simplicity and sweetness - two words we long for in our lives yet simultaneously push away in moments of spontaneity and adventure. We prefer the chaos and excitement even when it means sacrificing all that we once stood for. What meant something to us becomes lost in that spur of the moment decision. But what about when it is the other way around? Simplicity and sweetness chosen over spontaneity? Possible? Most would say - too good to be true or impossible or there's no such thing. I disagree. I find that a lot of the times our minds distort the most beautiful things in our lives to the point that it is or they are unrecognizable, disgusting, and convoluted. It becomes this mess we wish we had never touched. It's about our mentality or to put it harshly - our heart attitudes. Who or what are we aligning our lives to? What makes us regret so much, want to turn back time, correct past mistakes, run away? If anything, it's not simplicity. It's not sweetness, but our want for something more - supposedly better until we end up with the what-ifs syndrome... until we're reminded that what could have been, should have been, but this time, we messed up.

Absolutely Beautiful

Today I had to meet a man I haven't seen for ten years. And all that time I had thought I was remembering him well - how he looked and spoke and the sort of things he said. The first five minutes of the real man shattered the image completely. Not that he had changed. On the contrary. I kepts on thinking, 'Yes, of course, of course. I'd forgotten that he thought that he thought that - or disliked this, or knew so-and-so - or jerked his head back that way.' I had known all these things once and I recognized them the moment I met them again. But they had all faded out of my mental picture of him, and when they were all replaced by his actual presence the total effect was quite astonishingly different from the image I had carried about with me for those ten years. How can I hope that this will not happen to my memory of H.? That it is not happening already? Slowly, quietly, like snow-flakes - like the small flakes that come when it is going to snow all night - little flakes of me, my impressions, my selections, are settling down on the image of her. The real shape will be quite hidden in the end. Ten minutes - ten seconds - of the real H. would correct all this. And yet, even if those ten seconds were allowed me, one second later the little flakes would begin to fall again. The rough, sharp, cleansing tang of her otherness is gone. - C.S. Lewis A Grief Observed

I highly recommend this book.