Tianyi
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
For Lin Qi: How From the Inside out is the song for my (note, may not be for others) christian life.
A thousand times I’ve failed
Still your mercy remains
And should I stumble again
Still I’m caught in your grace
(This part talks about how time and again, I’m inadequate, that I need a daily renewal of my mind, of God’s mercies)
Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame
(exaltation)
My heart and my soul, I give You control
Consume me from the inside out Lord
Let justice and praise, become my embrace
To love You from the inside out
(The Surrender, my Cry out to God to change me, for him to become my calling and for me to work towards loving God truly, from within, above my circumstance and emotions)
Your will above all else, my purpose remains
The art of losing myself in bringing you praise
(Continued surrender, my ideal state of being a living sacrifice, losing myself, living for God)
Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame
My heart, my soul, Lord I give you control
Consume me from the inside out Lord
Let justice and praise become my embrace
To love You from the inside out
(This line repeated emphasizes how important it is a process to constantly bring ourselves back to God, to daily commit ourselves, as it’s a daily struggle)
Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame
And the cry of my heart is to bring You praise
From the inside out, O my soul cries out
(Once again this “cry of my heart” is an ideal state which I long to be in, which I long to one day do, maybe in heaven? Hopefully on earth)
My first original - Blue
lyrics:
Alone in this body of water
Cold and blue
I’ve got no you
Fingers numb, head frozen open
I feel it all
I’m feeling nothing at all
Throw my neck out
Breathe in the salty air
Would sting my heart
If it were still there
Crumbling limbs
Come heave me out
Unwillingly Thawing
Restarting my route
Your Blue love gave me blue skin
And my ardor’s foreign now
A stranger trying to find my way
out of this bleak town
My feet are sore
The gravel’s rough
But I’m not going back down underwater
So I’m picking up where i left off
Surrendered soul
Tortured broken
Find my whole
Sea of faces
For sure i’ll find
But as of now still
To you I’m signed
Your Blue love gave me blue skin
And my ardor’s foreign now
A stranger trying to find my way
out of this bleak town
Confliction’s hard
Acceptance worse
But I’m not going back down underwater
Colours clouds will float on by
But I’ve got only eyes for the blue-grey sky
Come gloomy, call out to me
Say you’ll take me in again
I miss the sore, the melancholy
All i want to feel now is the sting I feel with you
Because your Blue love gave me blue skin
And my ardor’s foreign now
A stranger trying to find my way
out of this bleak town
My feet so sore
The gravel rough
But I’m not going back down underwater
So on I go
Psuedo bold
Find a way to fix my empty
Before I grow old
this is pure gold Marc how did you get it also Singapore is awesome
Good stuff
(Source: missironmaiden)
To commemorate the original 151 Pokemon from Kanto, Tumblr artist Zeb Love created this awesome print. Each is hand painted / screen printed and on sale now for $50 at his online store. See how he made them here.
Welcome To Kanto by Zeb Love (Tumblr) (Facebook) (Twitter)
Submitted by: zeblove
I love this. Ben Yagoda wrote “Fanfare for the Comma Man” for The Times earlier this week:
If you’re writing for publication, something else that comes into play is house style. This is seen most famously in the so-called Oxford comma — the one that goes after the second-to-last item in a series. Referring to the Philadelphia Phillies outfield as “Pence, Victorino and a left fielder-by-committee” would be fine in this newspaper but not in The New Yorker, which would change it to “Pence, Victorino, and a left fielder-by-committee.”
The New Yorker has always been scrupulous, bordering on fetishistic, about commas, in large part because of its founder Harold Ross’s mania for precision and clarity. E.B. White, who was subject to the magazine’s editing for more than five decades, remarked in a Paris Review interview, “Commas in The New Yorker fall with the precision of knives in a circus act, outlining the victim.” There are many examples, but one particular comma use is consistently and pretty much only found in The New Yorker.
(That E.B. White anecdote has done a few rounds of the internetosphere by now, but I always really like it.) Which drew a response from “the keeper of the comma shaker” at The New Yorker:
Everyone knows that The New Yorker is famously fuddy-duddy for its use of “close” punctuation. The copy editor from whom I inherited the comma shaker was herself not a fan of our style on commas; hence her painstaking creation of this one-of-a-kind item—a cannister (we spell it with two “n”s) about the size of a giant can of grated cheese, wrapped in brown paper flecked with hand-drawn commas, and topped with a perforated blue lid. The joke, of course, is that we are overliberal in our use of commas and ought to be more judicious.
I haven’t actually written anything substantial on tumblr in ages.
But all I can say is that my future confuses me. I know God will be there to guide me, but I’m still lost for the moment.
I’m slightly tempted to blog about Tung Ling but I will really cry I think.
(Source: justicejustis)
