May 27, 2016

White Haven Beach (Queensland, Australia)

I’ve had to wait for the bus, a waiter/waitress, a seat, a response, the perfect time to leave a conversation, etc.

I’ve had to wait for death several times, too. I’m tired of it. You grow up when you learn what that means, and I hope some get to escape that kind of knowledge.

I built walls once, to cope with the first gaping hole, and I guess after the years went on I never took them down. They started as partitions but transformed into fortresses. In my defense I hardly think I got a fair chance to dismantle them. Pun intended. Somewhere in my mind I resolved that emotion is weakness. There are different kinds of mourners, but if I was to be one I would be the one who could do what frenzied emotions cannot, namely offer fortitude and help. I refused to be impaired and add to the problem because emotions are reckless and untrustworthy.

And so here I am. Blank. Subconsciously processing and preparing. Waiting. Again.



May 24, 2016

It’s me.

It’s been a while.

I’ve disrupted, interrupted, and stopped you so many times but now, when we need to talk, I’m finding it difficult to pick up where we left off. You’ve dried up to no more than a trickle, and that’s my fault. But how does a tiny stream return to its former glory? What source will turn this weak flow into a pounding current? I remember when your voice was my internal compass, steady and sure, before I drowned it out with the white noise of Netflix, YouTube, and my blind desires.

Quiet my soul.
Quiet, my soul.

I have had the audacity to believe myself unworthy of your grace for too long, and my soul is dying. A voice that is not yours is rising up in me and it is dark and cruel and hateful. My guard is down and I can’t last much longer.

Bring the rain, Lord. Whether it’s a drizzle or a typhoon, bring your rain. I need to remember why and how I need you. I need to want to need you, before all the paltry promises this world can offer.

I just realized

April 25, 2016

My best work is produced when I am sad. What does that say about my imagination? …

If you were to ask me the source of the gloom I would not be able to tell you. I don’t know. Sometimes it just is. And if I choose to give that piece away, that which is a culmination of my distraught mind, then that is catharsis too. It is a gift for you and a gift for me.

Dear You,

January 16, 2016

I will miss you,
but I know I will be seeing you again, my friend.

With all my shooting stars,


P.S. I bet you didn’t flip the card over. But you should. There are some dank Bible versus there.


January 11, 2016


Amandier en fleurs -Vincent van Gogh

To endure is to suffer.

There has been an ever-growing skepticism sitting in my chest, seemingly weighing down my heart. It grabs at the flecks of doubt that drift by, and little by little my optimism begins to sink.

I have a fear, you see, that the timing of it all is off, that it’s wrong. The amount of time I need to complete 2000+ hours of direct patient contact, the ticking clock on the validity of my credit hours, the urgency of studying for the GRE as well as classes I will need to retake, volunteering, and somehow finding a way to go be abroad for 5 months. This is happening, these fears. Right now. It is a new level of multitasking that I am not prepared for. There simply aren’t enough hours in the day to complete these things,  meaning I will need to compensate somewhere somehow.

The problem is, however, that I am physically worn. Oh God, how my mind yearns to be challenged and refresh on all that hard-earned knowledge, but full-time 12 hour shifts hardly leave room for much else besides eating and sleeping, and sometimes just the latter. Am I just making excuses? I know I can do better and I’m revving to take on the challenge, but it’s daunting because I am afraid of who I’ll turn into should I put 100% into this pursuit. I am afraid that it won’t matter even if I do.

This, right now, is a commitment step. Is where I’m heading the way the Lord wants me to go, or is it going to take another monumental decision 10 years later to reroute me to the direction I was supposed to make now? Words friends have spoken over me and the passions that stir up my heart are puzzle pieces that fit with each other but not with the one I currently have clenched in my fist. The biggest fear is that I’m supposed to let it go because then I won’t know where to pick up again.

Perhaps you don’t have all the pieces yet.
But if that’s the case, then how am I supposed to know I didn’t somehow pick up a random piece that isn’t part of the set?

I don’t give faulty boxes with missing parts or incompatible pieces. 

He said to me, “You have a fire that burns so fiercely that when I touched you I felt it come to me.” But a fire for what. I’m not sure of what I want anymore, or maybe it’s that this trek through this valley has that hidden behind the looming mountains ahead. I don’t know.

If Your presence does not go up with me, do not send me away from here.


December 21, 2015

I think it’d be an exaggeration to say that tomorrow my life is going to change forever, but tomorrow this dusty path is going to get upgraded with concrete. Tomorrow I will drive 3.5 hours to a woman who is going to see my soul bared, and she’s going to tell me if what I offer is enough to pursue my dreams. I have 1 hour to convince her.

In my heart of hearts I know she doesn’t determine my future–that is in the realm of a god, my God–but I didn’t know how much I wanted someone to tell me what I already know until this opportunity came up.

You can do this.

None But Jesus

October 28, 2015

In the chaos, in confusion
I know You’re sovereign still.
In the moment of my weakness
You give me grace to do Your will.
When You call I won’t delay
This my song through all my days.

ALL my delight is in You, Lord
ALL of my hope, ALL of my strength.
ALL my delight is in You, Lord,

Turn the light on, Lord. 

Familiar stranger

October 14, 2015

“Splitting moonlight” Photographed by Manuela Iodice for REVS

Dear You,

Part of the exhilaration of meeting new people comes from brushing against the edges of their galaxies. For a moment you’re thrown into a spiral, and you’re disoriented because this is new. Then you collect yourself and begin a more methodical approach towards the vast unknown. You’ll only encroach as far as they let you, but it’s expected because, after all, this is a fair exchange. And this is how friendships are made–a path is forged between your two worlds, and the more you traverse it the more connecting highways there will be. You’ve both become Heimdalls. #goals

But every so often I’ll come across a person I can’t place; I can’t read them. These rare cases are usually ignored as I bumble along my merry way, but it seems, for the first time in a long time, I don’t have a compelling reason not to stop and linger a while longer. I hope not to tarry too long, but my curiousity is piqued so who knows how long this will take to shake off. It’s already been 11 long days. I’ve been here before, you see, and I can’t wait to be rid of it every time. And for all this cryptic language, I still can’t relate the burden of my knotted feelings to anyone; this is the best I can do. Even I hardly understand this mess of words.

I’ve accepted that there might not be a name for it. It’s an in-between emotion, which is quite fitting given my current in-between, transition state. I’m learning to become okay with it, to know that it might not be a problem that has a solution. But it’s still a thorn in my side, an itch I can’t touch, and a scab I can’t pick.

I guess what I’m trying to say is: Make your move, friend. I’m waiting.



Crossing (pt. 2)

September 27, 2015

In October of 2013 I made a post during a time of transition in my life. To be honest, I don’t remember what it was that drove me to those thoughts. The significance behind whatever the events of change were, I doubt that post could be more relevant than it is now.

My layover in the post-graduate terminal is, quite obviously, a long one. I’ve gotten comfortable. The blaring announcements of “jobs you’re interested in” dumped into my email followed by the chorus of beeps and jingles from all my tech hardly phase me anymore; it’s become more of a nuisance. Since my last entry I have had three calls for interviews and one job offer, as well as another potential job lined up via networking. I guess my lax demeanor can be contributed in part to these events, almost as if they signal the impending arrival of my plane.

But what I have come to realize during these long months is that I travel alone. There are many other people, and some friends, who wait with me for their flights too, but we will not all be boarding the same plane and they will not all arrive at the same time. I have learned to take comfort in knowing that there are others like me instead of leaning on them to support and reaffirm me. When the time comes they must depart, and so must I. Thank God He knows what He’s doing because this transition time is hecka long but He hasn’t let go of my hand in the thick of it so I doubt He’ll let go now in the calm. 


August 27, 2015



Since graduating uni in May there have been many things that have happened, both good and bad.
I won’t elaborate on either because I refuse to allow myself any excuse to complain further about my circumstances, but I can say that it has not been easy.
Now, upon reading this one might retort with, “What did you expect? Welcome to the ‘real world’ “. It might have been naive of me to expect all my plans to work out seamlessly. Yes, God has only let me have my way with my summer once, but I was not anticipating this many detours. Instead of listing my grievances I’ll simply describe where I’ve landed on this obstacle course since crossing one of many finish lines.

It seems I am in a pit. I don’t think it was ever part of the route–I think I deliberately dug it. Whether out of anger or frustration I do not know, but originially it wasn’t this deep. I could have climbed out and continued on, but I didn’t. I haven’t. Instead, it feels more like I’ve been attempting to continue the course underground, digging my way through like a mole but without its faculties. The sudden stalls and jerks in this ambitious pursuit are boulders and bedrock and the maze of other responsibilities that keep appearing are the roots. As I deal with these struggles instead of resurfacing, I am surrounded by an overwhelming feeling of ineptitude. It’s dark and I can’t see how much headyway I’ve made or how much is left to go, and it seems to get darker with every rejection.  If I was seeing this from God’s perspective it would be a hilarious but pitiful thing to watch.

This whole process is frustrating, and yes, sometimes it’s enough to bring me to tears. Some days I just want to stay in bed because things will not be any different. Games are my escape into an endless nexus of instant relief and distraction. It is just a perpetual state of waiting and the status quo is only ever changed when polite “no thank you’s” arrive in my inbox.
But I know this is not it. I know it; this isn’t just a feeling. It just sucks for right now. I do know, though, that when I look back at this period of my life I want to see that I was able to plant a garden in this storm. How wasteful it is if all I have to offer the Lord after two years time are empty hands.