Welcome Winter.

This stressful land has come back into my travels.  The radiator chatters for new coolant as I pass through the murky mire.  It's hot to the point of boils blistering on my skin, it freezes me to shivering heap, wounded and fetal.  An intense mental tangle of situations, morals, relationships, people, and circumstance all make up what is left of my tried cranial space.  I scrape at my scalp to no avail, as the twisted tapeworms of relation eat away at the soft gummy brain tissue.  The amount I could still take is uncertain, though I feel as if I cannot contain anymore frustrated bursts.  It's just... too much to hold.  My scraped knuckles hurt.  I keep calling Your name and I keep reaching out, but my application hasn't ceased.  I sick of the gloom, but it's what I've come to know.  Enveloping my character and reasoning, I slowly slip in the dense and dull haze.  I cannot see clearly.  Everything and anything horrifying and terrible that could be held in my fate seep as if un-permeated smoke through my orifices and rot at the worm eaten mental stability that survived.  It gets dark early and light late.  With all this confusion, nothing can settles or even wishes to, having no prospect of letting me rest.  As the fog creeps back, I am reminded of the dank past, and ominous future.  Cry for me ravens.  Weep for me a joined, deep cackle of sorrow.

The Mountain Goats - This Year

The Hextalls - We're The Castle Crashers

Slipping

Sometimes I wonder,
Do I carry too much?
Or is it too little?
All of it keeps slipping out of my hands.
Indifference is so hard to keep away in this.
Without responsibility or true caring,
it...
just...
vanishes.
Should be a shame really.
Maybe it just phases.
I guess that's how life works.
Come and go.
Not much lasts.

Add It To The Pile

It's just one more.
It's just one more.
That's what I keep trying to tell myself.
My my senses disagree with my ears alone.
But my selfishness is too strong, and I take up the aspirations of a weakling.
Curled up, I lay in defeat.
In defeat from myself.
I am too blind to lift up my calls to Him, I am too set down in my sin that my intelligence left.
I clothe myself in such foolishness, the fever reaches my body in anxiety.
This shouldn't matter, but it does.
I'm tired of the let down, rarely it seems I get a pick-up. but who am I to complain?
It's sometimes my only route, cause running is my best defense.
I'm sick of it. I'm worn and pissed off now.
It's pretty disgusting how self-centered I am about acceptance.
The ever full glass spills over with oozing and heavy foam, stress flows.
But my "oh so tragic" plight is hollow, and yet i fell struck with mighty bipolar waves they emanate.
What's the point? If everyone will let me down, I'm almost ready to give up trying.
It's never fully directed at me, but I fall the farthest.
Why?
What is in my make-up that causes such a volatile reaction.
I just want to get through my time not in bitterness or anger, nor with any spite.
Yet still it's never enough. 
I am foolish.
I am restless.
I am a coward.
Add it to the pile.

Dear You, #1.

Dear You,

I miss who you used to be. I don't know if I care enough to try to get that back. It's ok really. I've forgiven what you did, and never cared to apologize for. Sometimes I wish you'd  you'd just feel what I felt, so you'd realize how you effect people. Part of me values you less everyday. The other part misses what we had. Most of what's left is wrapped in apathy. Too bad I learned that skill from you. whoopsthetruth

Dear You,

Way to follow the crowd. I mean I thought it couldn't get any worse, but it did. You have shown you follow the world. I am sick. I guess I'll jut have to let it go, now that with each of your new-found levels of the social lemming become more concrete. Smart way to be. Seriously. What would it take for your mind to be swayed? Occurrences and happenings have not only been strange but also of the different and other-worldly nature. Are these not enough to change you blind heart? Love is free, stop paying for other things. Do not start with your hollow talk of hypocrisy. You place to talk is nonexistent. Your activities not only mirror those of liars and whores of this world, but cause you to walk inside the flow of anti-kingdom. I have no place to judge your heart so I cannot; but if you hold any virtue, prove it to me. Your slothful effort to build the kingdom makes me want to wretch.


Dear You,

Open your eyes. You have so much in store for you, stop resting in your hypocrisy. Listen to reason and truth. Open your ears and your heart, He's calling. Just pick up the musty phone again.

Dear You,
Stop viewing your life as worthless. It permeates more than you will ever know. Those around you lay grazed and scathing, tired of your monotonous apathy. Why don't you just try? You haven't failed at much at all, you have no reason to think otherwise. You weren't at a loss till you decided you were. Just stop. I'd believe in you if you believed in yourself and so would so many others. You thrust needed pain and mental weight upon your family's shoulders. Why? Would your father want you to be like this? So go ahead; roll your eyes. Bu consider this: While you build a wall in between you and others, you break down walls with the only thing capable of saving you form your self pity.

Panic! At The Disco - Nine In The Afternoon

I love this song. it speaks happiness.

Art and School and This Creative Title

Well. I've been sculpting. I rather enjoy it. It's so relaxing to start again. I haven't felt this rich earthy clay in my paws since may. I love and savor my creations just a tad more when i can make them real so to speak. I like them. My creations. Creatures, faces, splices. I savor their details as I create them. When looking at something I've just created it's so much easier for me to understand God's loving nature. It just makes sense. I can't help but smile at my pride for the things I've made. I think it's pretty cool that his love is that much more than my minor love for art. We are actually functioning, and madly complex! What a wonder. - So now that school has started I'm slightly overwhelmed, but i LOVE it. my classes are such horrorshow. if you don't know what that means read this: http://www.soomka.com/nadsat.html .
-My Schedule-

1-2: Strength Traning
3-4 :Humanities H
5-6: Drawing
7: Lunch
8-9: Chemistry
10-11: Alg 2
12-13: Studio Art AP
14-15: Psychology

Humanities is OMAZING. So much so, I need to substitute the a with an o. Humanities is a class where instead of being concerned about character development, and plot, we focus on what the author wanted us to get out of the book, we discuss, debate and pose complex questions about the piece. We are reading Plato, Socrates and some other great philosophers, and I gobble it up like a greedy 3 year-old and candy.


Studio Art AP is great, basically what we do is create a portfolio filled with artwork and we ship some of it off to the AP organization, I have no clue what it's called, and it may be possible to get out of the freshman basic entry level art class in college. That'd be pretty nice and helpful too, to clear up space fro other classes. As of  the first day we were assigned to do 7 "quick" exercises for each of the design elements. those would be: line, shape, form, color, value, texture and space. I've only done the first two and all 7 are due on Monday. cool. Ms. Wink has a habit of giving us work with very little time to do it. I don't like my second at all and i LOVE my first. I'm pretty sure i'll scan it and upload it with and edit it in to this post.

Some of my other classes are cool, others just ok. These are my favorite two, I don't feel like talking about any of the others.


This has been a post by Cliff Martin. see you next time, kids.

James Hunnicutt and Nicole Pike cover Hybrid Moments by The Misfits

Such a fantastic cover of a great song. Enjoy, kiddies.

The Smoking Popes cover of Pure Imagination

8 days

At the start of this blog, I blogged about getting things done before summer started.
Well right now I still have a ton too do before it can end.
Procrastination, my best friend.
In the next 8 days I must
1. Finish The Plague of Math that's kept me struggling for 3 years.
2. Do 5 life drawings for Studio Art AP

3. Take at least 40 pictures for Studio Art AP
4. Read an entire novel

5. Go to school and finalize my schedule.
6. Sort through my old school work bin, so they can verify my hsu credits
7. Shop for supplies
8 days before it starts.

To whom it may concern, I will be stressed this week, if you wish to pray for me, please do, I'm gonna need it.

The Mountain Goats - Home Again Garden Grove

Lament Over Compassion Set Ablaze

 
Why?
It's not fair.
I know you care.
Set her free, let her go.
Her body throbs and aches, I know you know the feeling
She cant concentrate, her brain starts to quake, her mind is reeling.
What are you preparing her for?
Why must must she go through this mess, that somehow you've blessed, show her an answer.
Relieve all the weight,
Dull pain, words of hate, stress heavy like boulders.
Refrain from this toil and remove it 'fore it settles upon her shoulders.
She can't take much more.
Something's gonna give.
Something's gonna give.
Something's gonna give.
Already given her all, her body is sprawled, broken she yearns for your touch.
Battered and worn, stressed till she's torn, when it's gonna stop, how much is too much?
Set.
Her.
Free.
We beg of you, our hearts go out, full of the tugging of compassion, enough is enough.
Fill her up. You have all she needs, so why isn't her peace coming now?
Answer her calls, her voice echoes, hollow sound.
Cast down a ray of peace.
Shout "Lament no more!" in triumph over evil holds.
The shattered frame held up by you is strongest.
Praise be as you heal the broken!

Sky Sailing - Take Me Somewhere Nice

Misunderstood

Shifty eyes, misplaced sarcasm.
Sneer behind your fake smiles
Turn my harmless folly is an act to gain something
False thoughts, I am always to be looked down upon.
Hey, thanks; you make me feel wanted here.
Where is the acceptance you claim to holster for many, if not all?
Why is it always me?
Misunderstood,
Battered and
Wriggling;
The ropes of social strain choke me
Squeezing at my creativity, humor, and social standing.
Suffocation only to those who aren't suited for normality.
Screw normality, I'm trying for any hopes of acceptance.
Any acceptance. 
Mean things when you say them.
Two-faced, you really have an art for
bringing
me
down.
I know you'll never comprehend the puzzle I have made.
I.
Don't.
Care.
Just show me you who scoff also welcome.
Prove it all wrong, prove my terrible genes wrong, prove my life wrong, prove me wrong;
In thinking that you'll never understand me.

It Echoes Here: Contemplating the Different and Lonely Occurance.

It echoes of  loneliness here.
Wrenching thoughts and skittish mental behavior accompany my foolish restlessness.  Inner strife dances from organ to organ, slowly, but quickly confusing my will. Lonesome I yearn for company.
Just a simple companion.
Even a sibling.
A whole year full of echoe
It get boring, feels wasted. And it really only effects me; I mean, I'm free to make plans.
I just fail to.
It's not a big deal really; it's just vacant here, y'see.
Too empty, too quiet.
Turn on the tele', or the phonograph, or the picture-box. Still with them around it all feels too large. Even this place. Ceilings too tall without enough canvas or paper to hang up. Walls become too open and lacking. To bare to captivate my span.
Blank
Does it matter? It shouldn't but sometimes having things to look at, or another here makes it all seem filled up. Maybe it just bothers me only, but solitude wastes time. Get a bit anxious for plans, and come to the realization that no one is around at 2 in the morn. Not to go and carouse around the town. No more cemetery runs at night. Alas these melted with the remaining and muddy winter.
It sure limits the summer a bit. My own mental image of entertainment rivals many others'.
Then again, why am I complaining? I have free time. I have work to do, some of it even enjoyable.
But still.
Still I long for a deep conversation, something to provide a background or foreground to my tasks. I never want to remain this solitary in droning time slots.
It all tugs at me.
Gently, but in annoyance, so it's softness is lost and replaced my stressful yanks.
Always asking, always inching me, keeping me awake from dreaming of something better.
Wherer are you going?
What are you doing?
Why are you so restless?
Instead of Contentment's embrace I shrivel in the cold of solitude. Glaring quietly, I wish to run forward, as if springed. Just to jump and act upon something.
Anything.
I shouldn't be this desperate, but after so long, this is my conclusion.
Since I was little.
School
Home
Camp
Church
Festivals

School
Home
Repeating dread, cycling locations.
Always half-way been the loner. Never really fit into the picture perfect group.
Sometimes I'd have one, y'know close pals, but those change.
Never solid, always evolving, I blame myself.
And why shoudln't I?
Don't I usually cause the strife or discomfort?
Yeah, sure I'm a crucial limb or needed apparatus.
Fat Chance.
None, or very few of them in the collective groups seem to wish me welcome or desire my presence.
Hah.
Let alone understand me.
I'm... just... so. Different.
Different.
It's not wrong, it's just... different.
Cept it doesn't connect with those who aren't.
or are.
To the different, I guess.
Where do you end off when you are so multi-faceted and strange, people don't know what to make of you?
Damn lonely.
I could complain to no end.
wow, I am productive.
Still gotta vent though.
Just wish the "normal" would appreciate something I did for more than a minute.
Something, anything.
I haven't the slightest why I care about their opinion. I mean if they are so different, and I know none of us really "have it all together", why should I care what they think? Maybe it's because the world, society, adults, teachers, anyone in authority looks to them first. the ones they have common interests with.
All those stupid, stupid sports.
Life is such a game, and I'm tired of playing.
I made my own rules, and played by them, and it didn't work.
Not to win the world.
Why the hell am I playing with that as the goal?
To the mirror I proclaim, you infidel!
Grow up and let go of wordly desires.
Stop being a toddler in your faith.
You've got plans, you got talents,
He wants You.
You.
I just can't be satisfied with being good enough for the Creator of the universe, can I?
I'm such a loser.
But, hey, let's blame it on the genes. The Carpenter always struggles with this right? I only barely slip by having obtained my mother's charisma, thinking skills, and optimism.
What a champ.
And the roots of my abilities to survive constantly strangle those closest geographically to me.
Build a new house,
a clean house,
and a stable house.
But just the same;
This house is empty.
This home echoes the same as the old.

Oh boy...here we go.

Expectant, but patience abounds.
Longing, but I stay patient.
Waiting at the rain forest.
This takes forever.
Oh anxious me.
Arrival.
I always forgot how I'm stunned.
All time spent well,
Man; I couldn't ask for anything better.
Ideal has become Reality.
Quick Disbelief, thankfulness immediately follows.
A Finished Puzzle.
Simple but fitting.
Solitary on the roof, waiting.
Loneliness dissipated so quickly.
The roof is still, concrete.
The wind rushes and tussles my knotty mat of hair around.
My ears fill with it's hollow and pushing sound.
The hair on my arms is pushed against the grain with it's short blasts.
The breeze tunes out the rest of my body, as it internally erupts in elation.
Full Grin stole Grimace and locked him away, tossing the key, or forgetting the combination.
Whichever works well.
I'm not too concerned with differentiating, that's the least important of my cares.
I'm not even sure if Joy left any straining cares left residing in me.
I still soar at full speed.
Soaring together.
June 13, 2010.
Fantastic day.

Poor George, hear me out.

whoa.
slow down.
I didn't mean to.
My motives are honest.
This wasn't supposed to blow up in my face or yours.
How can this beauty cause so much tension?
Broken Bridges.
Try and fix it, try and fix it.
I don't have enough planks or ropes.
I need yours too.
If you haven't any to spare, ok.
But that seems to be a reoccurring theme.
I know that now I'm just a reoccurring theme in hindsight.
I didn't want to be just a bad memory or taste left on the cerebral palette.
I thought we were better than that rubbish.
I don't know if I thought wrong.
I know it stings, I know it bites, I know it gashes.
This wasn't my intent. I've got grazed bruises on my vessel.
My wounds fester and rot, I'm not apathetic.
Honesty shouldn't lose.
and it doesn't.
Last week wasn't a proclamation, just truth.
If you can't take my honesty as what it is, and not as hope,
Why were you still around?
My insensitivity is matched with my honesty.
Lies do not slide off my tongue
My lips do not speak falsehoods with the intent of toying.
But as if I have acted untruthfully, accusations and insults dig at me.
With foolish intent to fight fire with fire.
Except, There was no fire.
Still I remain bombarded.
Didn't this happen before?
Wasn't it not as severe as it seemed?
Why must now this trash our bond?
It shouldn't be like this.
I don't give up, I can't tell if you do.
So that's it then.
I don't expect you to understand my motives or process of thought.
But my actions are just a mirror of what's been revealed to me.
I remain open, free and willing, I just follow what I'm told to do.
I'm not sorry it this way.
It's his plan.
I am sorry it's this way.
It shouldn't have to drain you.
I don't want to lose us.
I'll respect you and leave you be,
But I'm still here.
I'm still thankful for what we have, had, have.
Goodbye George.

Honesty Wins

Mutual admiration.
It
Just
Flows
Honest, and free of worry, I am open.
I am vulnerable, but in my vulnerability comfort finds me.
Consoling words  from another, understanding.
True understanding.
Nothing is forced or self-willed
Only will is how his hands guide us, only how we follow the path.
It's blind, it's full of trial, but it's planned, no matter the outcome.
no matter the outcome.
Intent.
No self-want, all the opposite of self-gain.
Content
With it all.
Give & Take.
I breath heavy, skip a beat.
I soar fast, skip a beat.
Swim in the joy, skip a beat.
Elation blooms, skip a beat.
This blissful delirium buds, and grows.
Care-free encounters of house colors
Blessings arise to surprise.
Catch me off guard.
Catch us off guard.
Spy a brilliant sea of contentment.
The coast swells;
High Tide.
Dive In.
Flood the earth, my chamber of four is drenched.
Abundance is shown so quickly, but with such gentle power.
Honesty Wins.

"Orange Colored Sky" Nat King Cole

Les Discrets - Chanson D'automne

Listen to this as you read the poem below.

Enjoy!

Waiting

Waiting.
Waiting for my dreads to tighten up.
Waiting for her response.
Waiting for her thoughts about me.
Waiting for another who understands me.
Waiting for life at home to simmer.
Waiting for life at home this summer.
Waiting for 3 light bulbs.
Waiting for tonight.
Waiting for a job.
Waiting on Mrs. Reese.
Waiting on school.
Waiting on myself.
Waiting on God.
Waiting for a plan.
Waiting till I make myself stop waiting.
Anxiously check the clock.
Waiting.

Anoice - Glitch

Is This Lost?

I sit.
Lonely, humid.
The sweat drips.
Sticky droplets roll down my dreaded neck.
I itch.
Tight and loose, I have a headache.
Too many thoughts.
Too many thoughts.
Collect them, scramble to make it all fit together.
Unsettled the puzzle yells to be congruent.
Fix it please, my fingers are sliced and grazed.
My band-aid strips make sloppy work.
The work monocle is bent and cracked.
Blind, the eyes force information in.
Too many thoughts.
Want to scream, want to shout, I'm such a child.
I feel greedy and full of sloth, why I am so anti-kingdom?
I aim for a handful but i receive a pinch.
Yet that pinch is so fruitful.
and somehow I crave more, never satisfied.
I lose, but only because I let myself lose.
Apathy and I just can't get over each other, can we?
She just pulls me in, I can't help but embrace the lack of caring.
Her and Jealousy,  I stupidly picked them up on the street corner.
I am prostituting myself to the mundane.
Let It Go.
try to rest.
try to breathe.
5 days left.
5 till freedom.
5 till fear lunges at me.
5 till it gets quiet and peaceful.
5 till it gets quiet and lonesome.
5 till I can breathe again.
5 till I can breathe again.

So....I've decided I'm going to dress like a pirate now.

Hello, and g'day. I've observed a decent amount of punk and indie fashion, and I've decided that I'm going to dress all crusty looking.  What is a Crustie you may ask? Check out this link: http://www.terminal-boredom.com/crustpants.html which explains what crust pants are. Crust pants are worn by punks, but more specifically crust punks.  Crust punks are a type of punk, and traditionally dress dirtier and more disheveled than normal punks already do; hence the name "crustie". This means patched, torn,safety-pinned and dirty looking clothes. Sounds fun eh? Anyways, punks have a sort of ethic, called "do it yourself", aka DIY. This idea comes from doing things for yourself, instead of relying on someone else. If you don't know how to fix something you find a way to learn.  Though I am not completely into the DIY idea, I definitely support it in regards to clothing and footwear.  I have chosen to act in DIY fashion and fix my clothes and to not spend extra money on fixing my appearance.

Although these pants are pretty ridiculous looking, I am in the process of creating a tamer version. If you look at the picture in my first post you can see a primitive version of them. I find this way of dressing to be so creative and trend-breaking, and that is my main reason for dressing this way. I've decided that I'm not going to buy any more pants if I don't have to. I feel that I have too much: 4 pairs of black skinny jeans, 2 of them have patches, soon to be crust pants; 1 pair of my already crusty pants, one pairs of regular fitting blue jeans, and then a pair of baggy camouflage pants. the rest i own are shorts or capri's that'll end up getting crusted up down the road anyway.  This plan not to buy new pants or shorts is to 1. save money. 2. add reasons to make my stuff more creative. and 3. to teach me to be frugal, and to not buy into consumerism (pun intended).  I'm going to work on modifying some of my clothes, I'd like to make pair of overalls, pants with a bum flap, and other strange but fun additions you don't normally see on clothing.

As far as shirts go, all of my old large and x-l shirts from my thicker days, which feel too baggy now, I'm going to cut apart and sew onto smaller sized plain or otherwise cover-able shirts that i can find for cheap costs at thrift stores.  I'm modifying some army uniforms shirts and other natural looking button-up apparel to fit my style also. For the indie look, I like the vests, v-necks, corduroy, and general style. All of this is outside the realm of hipsters though. (chuckles).


So why Crust and Indie? It's appealing to me, regarding creativity and the semi-natural look of some indie clothes. What does all of this mean? Not much i guess , I'm just rambling about something i"m excited about.  Sadly some common themes with punks are homelessness, substance abuse, theft, terrible attitudes, etc.  I of course, will not show this of rubbish in my character.  I'm going to bash pre-misconceptions, and stereotypes with my positive and loving attitude. I'm rather excited really, my conflicting look and actions with confuse others and draw more attention to my motives for Christ... I hope. You guys probably think I'm batty. what canya do. haha. The End.

Happy Trails!

Just... Breathe.

Morn.
Heat.

Amble onto the bus, flick my I.D, it's muggy in here.
Waiting for the bell, sweat drips down the lockers.
Sneakers squeak, linoleum, I like my friends.
Thinking quite a bit today, rush through ceramics, bored in english, caught with phone.
good chats in geometry, not gonna do well on the final, the bell rings.
Bus ride back, it's muggy here too.
Home.
Worn.
Rest.
Heat.
Stress.
It's too quiet in this hollow cave.
My thoughts scream at me.
Directions and accusations.
They bash my mind and scramble me.
Like imps they taunt my actions and motives
I lack the will to complete useless tasks.
This takes me further down from achievement.
Why? Should my motivation be spurred by final grades?
I have no need for this.
No distractions, focus attempt, fall short, 11 days.
11 till I grasp sanity again.
11 to finish work.
11 to iron out my schedule.
11 to volunteer.
11 till I start breathing again.

Alas.Today's blog proves useless.

Tried blogging this morning.  My scattered and uncollected thoughts stray, and trot away from me.  Couldn't come up with anything significant . Another day I suppose.  Happy Trails.

Introduction and Explanation

This blog contains rambling of an Ordinary Radical.

An Ordinary Radical is someone who lives an ordinary life of in a spiritually radical manner, just as Jesus calls us to do.  The phrase "Ordinary Radical" comes from two parts.

The first, Ordinary: I am just one of God's many creations, I am no better than anyone else.

And the second, Radical: I choose to live radically, striving to love others unconditionally, truly and wholeheartedly act as Jesus did.

This is very difficult to achieve and I do not claim to have put out the effort it takes, I'm certainly in some terms, a failure when it comes to loving others.  But this is still my goal. Feeble, struggling, and running forward I strive for my best and the best Christ can bring up out of me. Regardless of my own application, in the end my flesh will fail me and I am forced to rely on God's strength.

Now to the blogging.

I will journal a decent amount, talk about life, share my views on things, review music,post interesting, thought-provoking, and sometimes just plain cool links.

G'day,

Clifford