Sunday, September 22, 2013

What Does it Mean to Declare Your Christianity?

Yes, my inspiration came from church this morning.  This is obvious as Sunday is probably the day when I'm thinking about God the most. (I really ought to be thinking about God all days of the week.  I'm working on that.)

Anyway.  Today in Sunday school we were talking about our Christian faith as we often do.  This usually leads to talking about the people who don't have our Christian faith.  Like atheists.  What are we supposed to think about them?  We can't love them, can we?  They don't love God, so surely there are forsaken, right?  No!  Obviously with Christian teachings you can't think like this.

A lot of the time I feel like that's how Christians are viewed by atheists, and maybe even by a lot of other people too.  Sometimes I feel I'd like to apologize.  But for what?  For being a Christian?  Isn't that a good thing?  That's what I've always been told when I was younger.  If you are a Christian then you are a good person.  That's always been the understanding of who we are and how we operate.  You've been doing some bad things lately and you want to change your life?  You want to be a Christian you say?  Okay.  BAM.  Automatic good person.  Right?  Many people use it as a higher status.  I won't deny I've felt superior as a Christian before.  Oh come on, we've all done it.  (That is, of course, if you are a Christian.)

Often times Christianity is used as a status.  It's seen as something to glorify a person in a way that, well, when you really think about it, Christianity doesn't really do. What I've come to find out over the past few years is this:

When I declare that I am a Christian I am saying that I am an imperfect being.  I can't be a good person all by myself.  I'm declaring that I fail often and I lean on my church and my fellow believes to help my get back up again to succeed.  Maybe by saying I'm a Christian I'm declaring that I'm less superior to others because I need help in life.  I wouldn't go to church if I didn't need help and guidance.   In school we never want to admit that we need a tutor in math.  The superior kids are the ones who know what they're doing without any help, right? Think about it.  So maybe a better way to look at Atheists are the kids who don't think they need any help in math but eventually they won't get that great of a grade.  Hard work pays off, you know.  Do you hate someone who is struggling in math because they refuse to do things the way that will help them the most?  Sometimes, maybe.  That doesn't mean we should, but it also doesn't mean we should parade our Christianity like a gilded crown, either.

 In some instances, Christianity could be looked at as an affliction.  If you have anxiety, wouldn't you take anxiety pills to help calm you down?  So in this case, Church is my medication for a disease called being a human.

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Football. And I'm talking the American kind.

Before you read this, this post is going to be opinionated.  If you like football, you might as well start writing the hate comments now (which, please, I welcome that.  I don't get very many comments on a regular basis, and I would love hear your side of the story)

So I sit here and listen to my new favorite thing: Young the Giant.  I'm stuck on writing my book (I need to start doing research and this is a problem) and I really don't have anything else to do.  What does that mean?  It's blogging time!  I'm going to talk about football.  If you're like me, your thinking: "Yuuuhhck.  What a waste of my life.  Totes clicking off of this lame blog." And I'm like, Fo-sho.  Do it.  I understand, but . . . wait.  I actually . . . to tell the truth . . . stay, would you?

Football.  This is a sport that I hate.  I don't like to use that word a whole lot.  This doesn't mean that I'm above hating stuff.  I'm human, after all.  I just know that it's wrong to be so harsh.  Most of the time I don't really hate what I said I hate.  I just hate the idea of it.  See, what if I had a best friend and he played football?  (I can honestly tell you I don't, but this is an analogy.)  He's the nicest guy you'll ever meet.  He treats people right and he's what a christian is supposed to be.  He's also really good at football and doesn't let the game blow up his head like an atomic bomb.  So, yes I would root for him.  I would probably watch him play all the time, and really get into the sport.  But only because he would be playing.  That's the point.

PEOPLE are the reason I've come to hate this game so much.  Have you ever heard that idiotic song The Boys of Fall?  I'm sorry if I've offended you by telling you that I HATE HATE HATE that song.  Although, I've probably already insulted you by telling you I hate football.  God knows my town would murder me if they knew I don't like football.  It's like being a communist governor.  Truth be told, not very many people know that much about me, so they just assume I'm like everyone else in that town.  Gah, it's like we're the Borg or something.  Well anyway, let me tell you why I hate that song.  One stanza of lines goes like this:  "In little towns like mine that's all they got, Newspaper clippings fill the coffee shops, The old men will always think they know it all, Young girls will dream of the boys of fall."

Okay.  First line: "In little towns like mine that's all they got."  This is true.  The way it's said here, it makes it sound like it's something of glory that we can appreciate.  We don't have astronauts going up into space near us, we don't have movie stars parading down red carpets just a block over.  We don't have much.  But if you look at it the way I do, in a town like that, football is the only thing that's important to anyone.  Sometimes it's more important than going to church even though Technically we play this game with prayers to God.  Don't get me wrong, people should be talking to God about their breakfast.  Have a relationship with God.  But people act sometimes like playing football is God's work.  No.  It's not.  Loving you're neighbor is God's work.  And I know very dang well that there are jerks on that football team that are such big hotshots.  They are definitely not spreading the word of God.  There's so much more we could focus on.  LIKE SAVING THE ECOSYSTEM. (But nooo... they all don't believe that Global Warming is real . . .)

Second line: "Newspaper clippings fill the coffee shops."  Ha! If we even had a coffee shop in town.  But you get the idea.  These football players are all viewed by the community as Nice Young Men with Futures.  They're labeled as faithful because this is a faithful community and anyone who's really good a football surely is the best person.  You know what?  They are so full of themselves!  They all drink just as much as the bad kids.  But the community had labeled the bad kids as bad because they're unproductive and they aren't active in the community.  They just can't seem to see that maybe they just don't like to play sports.  I never did.  This same policy goes for any sport.  A girl with a bad home life that hangs out with the bad kids and drinks and smokes gets pregnant.  Everyone tut-tuts.  It was expected.  That's what her kind does.  They turn their noses the other way.  Oh, but they won't judge her.  Not openly, that is.  A girl who is really good at basketball get's pregnant.  It doesn't matter what the circumstances are or whether she has a good home life.  She's popular.  Not just in school but in the community as well.  She will get sympathy.  They'll tut-tut for the first few months, but once her belly starts to show, everyone will get excited for her new baby.  Her mistake will be accepted like it wasn't a mistake at all.

Don't get me wrong.  You need to show love to everyone no matter what they've ever done.  It wasn't wrong of them to be nice to the basketball player because she got pregnant.  But because they didn't acknowledge her doing anything wrong she's probably going to have another kid in a few years with someone else.  And how did they treat the first girl?  She's not a part of their social class, so they ignored her.

But back to football. Third line: "Young girls will dream of the boys of fall." This I think, is the worst line.  As we've previously stated, football is glorified to be something much bigger than it really needs to be.  What this is saying is the only thing that matters is a sport that can only be played by boys.  What that is saying is that only boys could do something this important.  And what can girls do?  All girls are capable of doing is swooning.  That's right, girls.  You've been reduced to a fried haired, hollow, make-up caked idiot that can do nothing more than drool over boys who play a stupid sport and think they're dominant.  They'll never treat their girlfriends right, but that won't matter because they're gods, aren't they?  And as females, it's our job to worship them, yes?  So ladies, let's get to work and start building our shrines in your respecting school colors.  It's bowing time.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

I got Nominated!

My loverly new blogging friend at: Escaping Normal nominated me for the Liebster award!  I really don't know what it is, but I FEEL SO AWESOME RIGHT NOW!

So, there are rules that go with this thing.
1. Link back to the person who nominated you. (Check!)
2. Answer the 11 questions given to you by the nominee
3. Pick 11 bloggers with under 200 followers to be nominated
4. Come up with 11 questions for you nominees to answer
5. Notify the Nominees.

So, like I said, Leah Lotus at nominated me! (: Thanks, Leah. (:  She has eleven questions for me, so I guess I'll answer those.

Q: How did you come up with your blog name? 

A: Well, when I was a baby I used to cry so much that my dad called me a magpie (a bird known for being loud).  The name sounded so similar to my own nickname: Maddie; it clicked.  So, it's sort of a childhood name that I really like and try to incorporate into everything.

Q: Dream Job?

A: I want to be a published author so badly.  I'm also really into visual arts, and I hope to incorporate this into my job by writing and illustrating children's books.

Q: What's the last movie you've seen?  Rate it.

A: Uhhmm... this is hard because I can't remember.  That last time I watched a movie at home?  The last movie I watched in the movie theater was Star Trek Into Darkness, which was FABULOUS.  Waitor?  I need five stars over here please.  Chris Pine.  Is.  My.  Soul Mate.

Q: What was the most annoying song of the summer?  Why?

A: I don't know.  I'm not much of a music-holic, so I couldn't tell you.

Q: Pancakes or Waffles?

A: Mmm... neither?  Well, I guess If I have to pick I pick pancakes but only if my sister makes them.

Q: Favorite superhero?

A: I really like Batman movies and the Iron Man movies . . . so either one of those.  I'd like to say Captain America because he's so handsome, but I haven't actually seen the movie, so that's cheating.

Q: What color would you use to describe you as a person?

A: Purple!

Q: Guilty Pleasure?

A: Um... reading stupid books like that crap Cassandra Clare writes, because after I'm done reading them I tell myself I was stupid for ever picking the book up in the first place knowing it was going to end like this.

Q: Who inspires you?

A: A friend of mine from church camp.  I won't say her name as this is my blog and not hers and I would need her permission to do that, but she is one of the most Godly people I know.

Q: If any, what quote or saying do you live by?

A: "Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can." -John Wesley

Well . . . I don't exactly know eleven bloggers, so I'm going to have to cheat.  I'm sorry.  Here's my . . . um, one blogger.  The other two have already been nominated by other people.  Luckily, she deserves this:

Okay, other Maddie!  Here are my questions for you:

1.  What is your favorite article of clothing and why?
2.  If you were a billboard, what would you say?
3.  What's something you've never said aloud but always wanted to?
4.  What's your favorite color?
5.  When did you start blogging, and why?
6.  What TV show premier are you most looking forward to?
7.  What's your favorite Bertie Bots Every Flavor Bean?
8.  What's you're favorite book that was written before the twenty-first century?
9.  What's your favorite food?
10.  Do you hate wearing socks?
11.  What's your favorite fandom?

Tuesday, September 3, 2013


I’m utterly attached to you.
You hold me together.
A useless pile of skin
And muscles I’d be
If I didn’t have you.
And dear heaven please
Don’t you ever break
My Body.
You are my skeleton.

So, I have a question for YOU! Who is your skeleton?  It doesn't have to be a love interest, considering I don't have one myself.  I'd say my skeleton is my mom.  Who's yours? (: 

Monday, September 2, 2013

An Ode to JK Rowling

I was just on Pinterest looking at various Harry Potter things.  I couldn't wait until tomorrow (as is probably proper blog etiquette) to put up another post.  I had to do it right now, because I was just thinking that . . . Harry Potter introduced me to how much I love reading, and it has raised my expectations for books so high.  In elementary school, believe it or not, I didn't enjoy reading that much.  (We can blame it on the stupid AR points system).  Harry Potter made reading an obsession for me.  And I just want to thank JK Rowling making me a Book-o-holic.  She deserves my thanks right now, even if she never sees this blog post.

That's all.  I'll try to refrain from mega posting after this.

I've been stinged by the Stung bug

Now, if you've read Stung by Bethany Wiggins, this is not a good thing to have been stung by those genetically modified bees . . .

Anyway, all I have to say was that it was FABULOUS! Yes, yes, it was a futuristic-corrupt-government-only-teenagers-could-fix-the-problem-because-all-the-adults-are-selfish-stupid-idiots book like all of the other "Best Sellers" since the Hunger Games trilogy, but I actually liked it! There was no stupid love triangle.  (I hate love triangles.  What does that say about the main character?  That she's indecisive and she doesn't really love either one of them.)  Now, don't get me wrong, the so called "love triangle" in Hunger Games isn't a real love triangle.  Katniss doesn't really want to love anyone.  She's trying to suppress her feelings for Peeta and it turns out that Gale is a psychopathic maniac that just wants to kill everyone and he has no feelings and no heart.  When you really think about it, he loved her and she just thought of him as a friend, and he tried to convince her that she loved him.

Where was I?  I was reviewing Stung, not the Hunger Games!  Well, I give it four and a half stars, and only because it could have been longer and had more depth, but that's no reason to only have four stars. The only thing that didn't make any sense to me was in the beginning she runs into a militia camp.  They think she's a boy and she doesn't tell them any different because she's been warned not to.  There's a guy who's in charge of her and he kicks her and treats her badly, but it turns out they know each other from their past lives.  Then he starts to protect her and she goes along with it.  He doesn't even apologize for beating her.  Then they fall in love, which was pretty typical.  But, I don't know.  I still think the book was amazing. With the limited length (I read it in one day) it really does have natural progression.  The idea is so great, and I can't wait for the next one which comes out in 2014 I think.

You know what, this book really is amazing, no matter it's faults.  You want to know why?  Because I didn't put it down and say, "This is stupid," like I did with the Infernal Devices series from Cassandra Clare.  I'm sorry.  Those books are stupid, and I could write a-whole-freaking-nother blog post about why.  The Mortal Instruments was a good idea in the first book, and obviously I had to read the second book to make sure Jace and Clary weren't going to commit incest, but after the fourth book it started getting really dumb and really repetitive.  I'm not even going to watch the movie, and besides, Jace looks like a weirdo.

Point being: Read Stung by Bethany Wiggins.

Sunday, September 1, 2013


So . . . I've decided that my writing websites and need to be dedicated to one thing and one thing only: my attempt at a novel in the outside world.  I only have one book on Wattpad, so there's no problem there, but I do have a short story called Marvela posted on Figment.  I think I'm going to delete it off of Figment, but I still want it to be somewhere where I am on the internet.  So . . . I'll post it here:

My back pressed against the earthy ground.  I closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else.  I was in a different country perhaps.  I tried to convince my body that it was in Europe on some grassy knoll, hiding so that the world couldn’t see me.  But my body persisted that it knew I was lying in my backyard; It knew I wasn’t blissfully somewhere more exciting than my home.  I opened my eyes disappointedly. 

Rolling over onto my stomach, my fingers gently threaded themselves through the grass.  My lids closed again and I imagined I was running them through the earth’s hair.  I liked how small it made me feel.  My hands moved back and forth, as though they were shampooing the grass.  I gave a little start when they tripped over something.   Fearing a harmful, bug-like foe, I pulled my hand back abruptly, but then I scooted forward, searching for the object again with my eyes. 

The sun picked it out for me, gleaming off of the round edge of the thing.  I delicately caressed it with my fingers, wanting to make a ballet out of picking it up.  It was a necklace, I thought.  There was only about three inches of chain clinging to it desperately, unwilling to leave the pendant no matter what.  I let the broken length of rustic colored metal rope slide across my fingers. 

            The pendant was beautiful.  Tiny pink pieces of shell were arranged to make a pretty little rose.  The same rustic metal from the chain looped around the rose, framing it ornamentally.  I liked the little pendant.  It wasn’t like any of the other junk that one might find left behind in the dirt.  It felt real.  I doubted any of it was plastic, and I was glad.  It was too pretty to throw away.  I wondered whose it was. 

            I extended my arm with the necklace hanging from my thumb, index, and middle fingers.  Beneath the pendent I could envision a woman with dark coloring.  The color of the rose would suit that pigment well, I fancied.  The necklace could go with nothing better than a nice white lace dress meant for summer. 

            “Who do you belong to?”  I asked the necklace out loud because I am a hopeless romantic and I loved the story in hearing my words out loud; as if I were sitting in a novel right now.  

Maybe a girl’s boyfriend bought it for her because he really loved her.  Not that petty high school stuff.  (I’m not saying you can’t have a real relationship in high school that’s not petty, all I’m saying is that the majority of high school romances are one-week-ers; Four-month-ers.  All I’m saying is that they're terminal.  They will most likely end.)  Maybe they were dating, maybe they weren’t.  Maybe it was a long time ago when he bought her the necklace.  Maybe she never knew he existed and he loved her from afar.  I sighed and relished in the feeling of holding this treasure in my hand.  Maybe she hadn’t ever received it. I wondered if he knew I had it now.           

But, what if he had died?  Surely this necklace couldn’t be that old, and I knew it hadn’t been in my backyard that long either.  That raised the question of how it had gotten here.  The yard was surrounded in a tall wooden fence.  I tried to remember the last time there had been a large storm.  I could see the thing tossing it’s way to my home.

 “Did you ride a giant gust of wind here, my friend?  Were you accidentally abandoned by the boy who bought you before he could bestow you to his one true love?” I whispered.  I hoped no one could hear me.  I was too embarrassed by my whimsical self to let these musing be heard by anyone with ears to hear. 

A piercing ringing came to me from the house.  “Marvela, It’s Stella.  She says she thinks she left something here when she was over last weekend.”

             “Yeah, okay, I’m coming.”  I hefted myself up from the grass and clomped my way to the kitchen.  Mom handed me the chunky pink plastic 1940s phone with the thick looping wire to the wall.  I loved this phone.  I stared at it admiringly for a second or two until Stella’s muffled voice brought me back to the present.

             “Marv?  Marvela, are you there?  Are you staring out the window thinking about your old swing set?  Marvie!”

                       “I’m here Stella.  Why would I be thinking about my swing set?  I swear, Ella, you’re ridiculous sometimes.  Now, what were you calling about?” 

            “Right.  I think I left something at your house.”

                       I didn’t ask her where she thought she’d left it.  We were always in the backyard.  She talked while I contemplated things.  “What does it look like?”

             “It’s a necklace.  I think the chain broke when we were watching stars.  You do so much shifting around on the grass, I can’t imagine what you’re like falling asleep.”

             My heart dropped into the bottom of my stomach and started to sour there.  My necklace that I had found wasn’t the icon of my fancies and stories.  It was just Stella’s.  She had probably bought it in the mall.  Even worse, it most likely wasn’t from an indie store either.  There was no originality to it anymore.

             “Marv, are you okay?” Stella asked.  She knew me well, but I couldn’t let her know I’d already found it.  She knew how much things could mean to me.

                       “Yeah.  I just got distracted.  You know me,” I laughed.  The next sentence almost pained me, but I pushed it through my teeth, knowing I had to let her know I had her necklace.  “Is it a pale shell pink rose with rustic colored metal looped around it in a circle?”

             I didn’t take in any air for an eternity and more.  I’m sure in the two breaths she took to answer my heart beat a million times.

             “No, it’s a little cross.  You’re sure you haven’t seen it?”

             “No, no.  Thank the heavens, I haven’t seen it.”

             “Marvela!  I really like that necklace!  Please tell me you’ll look for it.”

            “Yes, Stella.  I’ll look for it.  I’m sorry.  I promise I’ll start looking for it as soon as I can.” 

            We clicked off at the same time, and I put the beautiful pink phone back on the wall, hugging the rose necklace with my fist.  I went to my treasure strung room and found a long thin ivory ribbon and threaded it through to replace the broken chain.  It tied neatly around my neck.

             Maybe he wasn’t so old, I mused to myself.  Perhaps the boy was still a boy and was looking for the trinket.  Until then, I would keep it safe for him to find again.

The necklace Marv finds.