Are you Emergent?
You might be an emergent Christian: if you listen to U2, Moby, and Johnny Cash's Hurt (sometimes in church), use sermon illustrations from The Sopranos, drink lattes in the afternoon and Guinness in the evenings, and always use a Mac; ... if your idea of quintessential Christian discipleship is Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr, Nelson Mandela, or Desmond Tutu; if you don't like George W. Bush or institutions or big business or capitalism, or Left Behind Christianity; if your political concerns are poverty, AIDS, imperialism, war-mongering, CEO salaries, consumerism, global warming, racism, and not so much abortion and gay marriage; if you are into bohemian, goth, rave, or indie; if you talk about the myth of redemptive violence and the myth of certainty; if you lie awake at night having nightmares about all the ways modernism has ruined your life; if you love the Bible as a beautiful, inspiring collection of works that lead us into the mystery of God but is not inerrant; if you search for truth but aren't sure it can be found; if you've ever been to a church with prayer labyrinths, candles, Play-Doh, chalk-drawings, couches, or beanbags (your youth group doesn't count); if you loathe words like linear, propositional, rational, machine, and hierarchy and use words like ancient-future, jazz, mosaic, matrix, missional, vintage, and dance; if you grew up in a very conservative Christian home that in retrospect seems legalistic, naive, and rigid; if you support women in all levels of ministry, prioritize urban over suburban, and like your theology narrative instead of systematic; if you disbelieve in any sacred-secular divide; if you want to be the church and not just go to church; if you long for a community that is relational, tribal, and primal like a river or a garden; if you believe doctrine gets in the way of an interactive relationship with Jesus; if you believe who goes to hell is no one's business and no one may be there anyway; if you believe salvation has a little to do with atoning for guilt and a lot to do with bringing the whole creation back into shalom with its Maker; if you believe following Jesus is not believing the right things but living the right way; if it really bugs you when people talk about going to heaven instead of heaven coming to us; if you disdain monological, didactic preaching; if you use the word 'story' in all your propositions about postmodernism - if all or most of this tortously long sentence describes you, then you might be an emergent Christian..."

Some random quotes I really enjoy...
“I don't preach a social gospel; I preach the Gospel, period. The gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ is concerned for the whole person. When people were hungry, Jesus didn't say, "Now is that political or social?" He said, "I feed you." Because the good news to a hungry person is bread.”
"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
"The church is a whore, but she's my mother."
"We cannot fully recover until we help the society that made us sick recover."
"There is enough for everyone's need but not enough for everyone's greed."
"We can tell the world of life after death but what the world seems to be wondering about is life before death."
"The oppressed are freed from being oppressed and the oppressors are freed from beign oppressors."

But the segment from this book was read to me while going to get coffee and I was talking about the Irish pub intown later on. U2 was on the radio so I kept it on as I drove home after soccer due to the irony and also Sunday Bloody Sunday is a good song. Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr., and Desmond Tutu are pretty awesome and so on and so forth. A few things don't fit with my background, but what knowledge comes in and wisdom (I hope wisdome) that comes out after reading such things fits me. So perhaps I am described as in this Emergent church movement. There are unknowns to our Faith and definite Truths about our Faith (in which some of those truths are pretty complicated to understand... like the trinity or have you read any of the old testemant? Some of that is tough to swallow.) Lables are fun and all but, I think I remember somethign saying, be weary of lables or don't lable yourself? It's good to make divisions and makes it easier for critiquing the body.

Last thought, can't we call the emerging/emergant church the reformed or constatnly in reformation church? Is that not what we are supposed to do? One foot in today and one foot in the Word? ahaha Paul was pretty sweet.

As for me, I have more research to do to understand both sides of this 'conversation' of emerging, emergent, reformed, and post-emergent/emerging... wow so much different termonology for the same word. Peace easy. (That sucks...)

a whisper, a formed backing

Symbolism is as simple as a thimble at the end of your finger. 

Every manifestation is a creation of interpretation,

expressions of imaginations.  

A preacher that breaches the true teachn',

while he takes a drag from a smoke,

"Camels my decision but Jesus is how I'm livin'." 

Street preacher preaches.

Prophet of the ages.

A group of profiters, 

bankers and lawyers. 

Closer to knockn' on heavens' door.

Restlessness: The back drop to change, man.

People say I'm some sort of visionary or have a grasp on some great imagination. It's a lonely place. I just let a happening happen, I dig it. I can't explain it, you just can't explain this thing that happens. But whatever it is seems to be good, a lot of things came about because it's just been good.

It isn't me who creates that change, it's in you. What you feel is being comfortable, being comfortable to see it just isn't you with these ideas and opinions. You make the change in you, because it's been there, that uneasy feeling at the pit of the stomach waiting to be let out.

Staring at the world around bring me some gin, I'm gonna face this with a grin. We're gonna take a plunge if we don't look within. The edge of the road, there is no abroad were locked in this town. Wasted with bottle in hand. Trapped in forgetting the times, without defining the lines lost in the economic times. Divisions we need some revisions, bring forth the speculation of recklessness as consciousness. Independent movement of reformed provisions. Intellectual understanding within love in arms not arms of war. Change around the corner, don't look to the border. Look away from the warrior.

Conversing of Author to Reader.

They why to write, for me.

Writing to me is a conversation between two individuals. Yes, even if a book is being read out loud to a class or group. It's still between two people, ones brian still interprets it in the form of perception. By you reading this, I am talking to you at this moment and no one else. Even though it's a broad public post I still speak directly towards someone. Not only am I getting inside of your head but you are getting into mine, in some way or form, we are getting into each others head. The only difference is you have a tougher job of telling me directly your thoughts, well not so much on blogs or whatever. If I was to say written this in a novel, it would be more difficult to directly tell me. 

Anyways, I'm just opening up to what I want to talk about here... as someone wishing to be an author one day, writing is one of the most personable things. A book isn't secret, what can be secret is the thoughts and emotions that have been wrapped up in the time frame a person reads a book. Getting to know something about the author in some round-a-bout way as well getting to know what lies within yourself. Blogging for me is an endless novel that creates an engagement with somebody's story that isn't as possible with novels or short stories. A feeling of involvement and input.

Now on to my epiphany the other night.

Actual date: October 2nd, 2008

Place: Buffalo Wild Wings

Written on a napkin

Coming to age tales, brought up through symbolism typically completes a story. Not the actual novel but the characters ability to finally tell the story. Does coming of age mean being able to tell your story? Does verbalization mean the person is more mature, I disagree. The persons decisions after this coming to realization makes them advance, the next step can be a concept work. Not everyone understands how to create symbolism and give an elaborate telling of what happened to them. I could transcribe somebody's life into a story, but that would take away form the personal emotions. It would just be my version and with my forms of symbolism. Some people just can't put into words the change they went through, but just know it was important. I'm gonna finish my story in a different form of coming to age tale, I already feel as though I can tell a story and no event got me this way. I just have a portion of a tale to tell, people have been waiting to listen. It just took me a while to figure out the novel. A meaningful outlook and changing situations to make this tale more interesting.

As for everything else, I'm pretty happy as of right now. I just recently got fired, in an under handed manner. That I don't really care too much about and do not feel like explaining, so let me leave it as that. As of right now I've just been pretty busy with school since I was sick last week. As life wise, a lot has changed. I'm excited to say I feel as though I have some good friends at the moment, not as many as I once had but I can't be sad because numbers are down. It's consistency in the friends not the quantity.

List of Books I want to read.

Paper Towns (Which comes out October 16th)

Clockwork Orange

Catch-22

Amongst the Thugs

Let it Snow

Genome

Rant

To Kill a Mocking Bird (Read it again)

more... but too lazy to keep typing. I feel like reading now.

I walked up to my friend and he said, "Hey Holden."

To which I was perplexed, "Why did you call me Holden? You don't know a Holden nor is there a way to have Alex and Holden get confused."

"It wasn't a mistake, sometimes you remind me of H.C." I thought to myself, what does he mean by that? No one wants to be like him... ah crap.

Later friends.

Smoldering Fire

Section one.

The fire still smolders from the burning of all my possessions; a beginning motif to the start of most reoccurring events to my life, destruction. The sun creeps up from the corn field and abyss to my right' to the left the sky is bursts of orange and purple sculpting the the puffy white clouds, just between the tree lines I can see it all. From what I can see my mind paints the remaining pieces in that the trees cover up. My gazing eye is just in awe of the beauty, only a fool wouldn't be awe such by such a sight. It's the third sun rise I've seen, my eyes grow weak after seventy six hours and twenty seven minutes. This has been a daunting task, so much time to think, most of this time is just to yourself. Not many people find excitement in depriving ones self in sleep. IT's quite simple limited food, water, no caffeine, forget the use of drugs and alcohol it just takes away the full effect and revelation I seek.

One would say I'm crazy for burning down my home, I am sleep deprived after all so it's a bad decision in blinds eye. Which is why I disagree, the bear minimum in life is a guitar, clothes, cell phone, cash, ID, debit card, water bottle, rucksack (back pack), and finally some good literature.

Coppery Eyes

Fizzle explosions

remnants of sulfur and copper deposits

the rising flame, end of set abrasions

tire eyes and tired minds

the strangling lengths to which I came

brought upon long lasting lengths

form the copper deposits of my eyes

Formationed abrasions

forth bringing obscurity

desolation formed

exhaustion has set

Rising sun to settling dusk

coinciding the same day

forming copper deposits around these eyes

escaping the pleasantries

foundations predetermined

you've brought me here

now she me where

A playlist story, how lame.

It took some time to do though, I put too much thought into this. It'll be tough for people to figure it out, the theme is pretty easy. Just a theme won't work though also if you try to figure it out person based you'll have a tough time. Because I mixed that up into my own way of telling this story, hence welcome to my mind. Anyways, if anyone cares here you go. If not, there shall be more to come.

Undone -- The Sweater Song by Weezer

Your Hand in Mine (w/strings) by Explosions in the Sky

The Beat that my Heart Skipped by Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip

Bruised by The Bens

Gone Ben Folds cover by Julia Nunes

Learn to Live With What You Are by Ben Folds

Your Hand in Mine by Explosions in the Sky

First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes

Just Pretend by The Bens

Song for the Dumped by Ben Folds Five

Evaporated by Ben Folds Five

Sundress by Ben Kweller

Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard

Lizzy by Ben Kweller

Your Hand in Mine (goodbye) by Explosions in the Sky

If I Ever Leave this World Alive by Flogging Molly

*Journal*

"I enjoy what I get and what I get is what I worked for.", Saturday, May 25 2005 this was written in a xanga post by myself. This statement is a double edged blade, I worked to keep people together and be a savior for that all that I chose to try and save myself are left astray from the path I've chosen. Trying to be the hero leaves you tired and lonely, hence the reason we aren't supposed to try and be the superhero, that has already been accomplished. We have the backing of a superhero. Saying I'm alone could be a sad thing, but if I worked to get where I am why should I complain? You reap what you sow, so take responsibility I say and let the chips fall where they may. Then move ahead taking what you learned to try again but this time believing, you aren't alone.

Now I look back understanding what I wrote three years previous even more than I did than. Also written in this post was, "We all go our own direction, mine just seems so different." Still stands true, but it doesn't seem to be the fact that I am lead abruptly off from others. I choose to follow my own path, which makes a lot of aspects harder. I have hope in the fact that I am not lost because, "Not all who wander are lost.", JRR Tolkien. 

I'll end with this, "You never know.", Bob Dylan in answer to the critics who poke and prod his life. Indeed, you never know what's going on until you understand the person behind the actions.

Wanna a smoke or symbolism?

After a good lunch at the pub, Jessica asked me to join her outside. Apparently since the last time I was in town she had picked up smoking, so I accepted the invitation. Not for the smoke per-say more for the fact she was on the opposite side of the table and the two of us have not caught up yet due to debating or the mere fact she was sitting too far for one on one conversation. Once outside we talked a bit about where we are going in life and I heard a bit inside, in which I was very perplexed. So we talked back and forth, I must say my aggravation level was rising because years ago she had scholarships and everything for a full ride in whatever she wanted and now she sits in front of me complaining because she never took them. 

Dialogue needed to be written...


Most of all out of this little conversation I remember one changing point in who I was before this encounter and after this encounter.

She offered me a cigarette and I declined. Her response was, "Good choice." From right here I realized, the gap between the relationship we once had and how at one time I was familiar with this person. Now it is as though we are two strangers who vaguely had a same past.

The idea of who I am and who I want to be.

This week I was assigned a speech, for speech class of course. In which I had to find an article pertaining to what I wish to do in the future for a job. Due to the fact I couldn't find an article on being a novelist I just gave up and decided to do it on teaching. Which sucks because I did not put my whole heart into doing the summary nor what I really thought about it. Teaching is just something I want to get me by until I decide to write one day, as a full time job of course. It kind of makes me angry... not angry, aggravated to sit in speech and never hear a word about how being a creative writer is the backdrop of a speech. To me if you can give a good speech you could probably write a decent story about that or a decent paper. I know I'm terrible at grammar and sometimes I miss spell the most obvious words, I truly do know this. 

What my point is the fact that, writing is the backdrop to it all. We get our research from books and get our forming ideas from literature. Talking amongst each other gives us the idea to write, but having it on paper leaves it to be around forever. So to me, what lives longer the speech or the text? I guess to me I'd much rather read the speech then hear it delivered. There is so much emotion wrapped up just in the fact you are at the speech itself. Let's say you read it later and realize you disagree, you have more time to think and go over the ideas given to you. Which is why I find the literal form better in a sense. Everyone works differently though, so a speech is a great thing. I suppose I'm more stating how I feel about it, which is another reason I love speeches and writing, your opinion counts.

A beginning to a new community.

My first post on Blogger.com/blogstpot... will be a story I've started.. an actual Blog soon.

(c) Kris Denoyer

Prelude

Like any scholar giong through their process in aquiring a wholesome degree it becomes relevant that times have switched. The times you were in your hometown seem to be the best times of your life and now you are covered in homework, internships, book, studies and also finding time to divulge into your own intersts (if you want to that is, like many good nerds my friend and I were well known in this area). So you decide to return back home and find where all of your past acquatances and best friends have ended up, which most students who graduated keep up through social networking online, we seemed to have had our fingers far from the pulse of the graduating class of 2006. This became apparant when I saw a girl I graduated with happily married, working a normal job and pregnat. Maybe I have been left behind, but a double major of indepth studies and being a regular of libraries, comic book stores and football (soccer fields, also for now on it's football) have been changes enough to where I realized, no I have not been left behind in any sort of manner. I made my own way ahead of the game; just in a more inttelectual sense I get a laugh when my friend compares us to Tolkien and Lewis, except without the debate on if literature should be a copy of biblical beliefs or that every story is a shadowing of...

Anyways after our graduation day and the getting rid of our apartment we packed our stuff into a storage hall to take our summer journey; because we start our new jobs, more school becoming TA's while finishing our masters work (neither of us ever want to leave college either it be teaching or going on the side while working a regular job in our respected fields).  We realized we missed home on this day of graduation, seeing our paretns and certain people whom we have met from time to time back home. We purchased tickets to the next flight home in hopes to find the "roots" of our origin, already knowing why we are studying what we are. It seems to be more that we wanted a brush over, like re-reading a book or taking a look at notes you took in class. It is a necessity to knowledge and of life, even if it is going back over your life. In many ways a way more analytical way of looking at it than most would want. I digress, this is a tale of our coming to realization of what we were looking for all along. This could be described as a comming of age tale in the sense that coming of age is the understanding of responsibility not a sex visit by some lady of the night to fornicate with; And that is where I leave you and begin to tell you this tale.