"My blemishes he will not see..."

Now when the King at table sits,

My spikenard smelleth sweet,

And myrrh and camphire from my store

I pour upon his feet.

My thankful love must be displayed,

He loved and wooed a beggar maid.

Ye daughters of Jerusalem,

I'm black to look upon

As goatskin tents; but also as

The tent of Solomon.

Without, I bear the marks of sin,

But Love's adorning is within.

Despise me not that I am black,

The sun hath burned my face,

My mother's children hated me,

And drove me from my place.

In their vineyards I toiled and wept.

But mine own vineyards have not kept.

I am not fair save to the King,

Thought fair my royal dress,

His kingly grace is lavished on

My need and worthlessness.

My blemishes he will not see

But loves the beauty that shall be.

-Hinds Feet on High Places

Ri. Dic. U. Lous.

When things almost literally happen overnight.

And again, I find myself with the problem of too many options.

Westward?

Oh dear.

Let's not jump yet, shall we?

But it's all I know how to do.

I don't like this whole "thinking through decisions" thing.

It makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable.

I'd call my dad, were it not 3 o clock in the morning.

Fuck.

I need a cigarette.

Westward?

In an attempt at organization,

I give you:

http://jamiefinch.tumblr.com

Forever a work in progress, but I hope you enjoy. :)

Twelve

Lesson One:

I had McDonalds tonight for the first time in about 3 years.

Don't ever ask for "sans" something at McDonalds.

Especially one in Times Square.

At 2 in the morning.

...They won't have any idea what you're talking about.

Lesson Two:

My own words tonight-

"Oh no no no, love. I'm moving. I just love these people. But I collect people everywhere I go, you know. If I decided to not go places on account of the love I had for the people wherever I was, I would never get anything done in this life."

I don't find that sad.

This kind of life is gorgeous.

Lesson Three:

I'm a pretty creative gal, but even I couldn't make up the stories that I share of my experiences in life thus far.

Lesson Four:

The answer "Because I can" is becoming the only one I need or even want to give to any questions about decisions and future. This is because I have a God I can trust. And do trust. This is huge.

Lesson Five:

Chicken is fucking delicious. Bye bye, vegetarianism.

Lesson Six:

I really need to start sleeping before 5 in the morning.

(Yeah right)

Lesson Seven:

This phrase-

"All I want to do is travel the world, write about what I see, and make people care about it."

-finally means what I've always wanted it to.

Lesson Eight:

I'm so lucky you were a coward. Life would not be as fucking awesome and free as it is if you were still hanging around. Enjoy your videochats. I deserve way better.

And I won't be ashamed of waiting for something real.

"In the fullness of what you are doing, he will come..."

Lesson Nine:

I like that I am finally learning to believe in myself as much as the people around me believe in me. Thanks, everyone. :)

Lesson Ten:

I live and breathe by listening to people's stories. I could do that and nothing else for the rest of my life.

Lesson Eleven:

Sometimes I feel that coming "home" to a borrowed couch and backpack is the only thing that feels natural. And trust me, I don't lament this. It's the best feeling in the entire world.

Lesson Twelve:

Holy shit, I am one blessed human being.

The.

End.

In Syncopation

She looks like her name should be Katie.
Or Tatiana.
One or the other.
Nothing else... No name in between.
Something about her seems foreign or exotic.
Maybe it's the way she seems to soak in everyone's stares like it's common practice.
Everyday occurrence.
Just a normal Thursday night.

And I'm sure that it is.
I'm sure that she usually rides the L in a glitter face-painted mask on Thursday nights.
No big deal.

I mean, it looks like it took hours... at least.
Seriously, it's very well done.
So I'm not sure what to be more impressed by: her mask or her confidence.
Or the irony of the fact that she wears both so well.

And maybe that's why everyone is staring.
Not because it's hot pink and sparkly or because it creates such a confusing contrast between her khakis, but because none of the rest of us on the train are willing to wear our masks nearly as loud.
We've hidden ours so well that most times we don't even see them and forget that they're there.
But her display has reminded each of us of the things we try so hard to forget and we don't know whether to be appreciative, terrified, or confused.
So instead, we have all silently agreed to just stare and let that be the end of it.
We look at her as if she's the strange one when really, deep down, we are all burning for her courage.
For the ability to show each other our own masks that we have worked on so carefully for more than just hours, but years and years and years and then all at once remove them.
In syncopation.
As in a silent symphony of glitter and colour and fear.
And we smile, sincerely, maybe for the first time in our lives at each other, once strangers, now an odd kind of family formed in the second to last car on this train to who really even knows where.
And she smiles too.
Knowing that her job is done, her mission completed, her experiment finished.
The creation and removal.
The confusing and disarming.
The renewal of souls.