anobody

... a nobody sharing the thoughts that already existed, that are rediscovered, and which may remain ...

Transparency is in fashion (Gaston Legorburu & Darren McColl).

Randomness is a piece of transparency. Any random event in this existence that has been lent to me can be communicated.

Itā€™s really boring, but thatā€™s kind of the point. The common, the daily, is filled with boredom. Boredom that challenges the creative part of us to array ourselves with meaning that we cultivate.

To imbue our actions with meaning. For words to come into parallel with action.

Like when I wash a dish, I would visualise the word ā€œwashā€ in my mind. Make it flash and sparkle for reducing boredom.


āš ļø

I quote a lot of books, I really donā€™t read them in full.

The point for me is to quote ideas from memory. Ideas have to have some kind of weight, some kind of stickiness, to imprint themselves on my mind. Ideas have sources.

I see that my worldview is a conglomeration of ideas from myriad sources. Where I make the most obscure connections, no matter how silly, absurd, or purely insane.

I hesitate to use the word ā€œmyā€ worldview, lest I build up an unnecessary attachment to my limited perception of the world.

So let me call it ā€œaā€ worldview. A worldview that can be shaped, in tandem of The Spirit and reason, by the beings that I encounter in this journey (out of millions, out of billions ā€“ how seemingly insignificant) on earth. Shaped towards The View, The Theory, The Truth.

I have a perception of The Truth. God has The Theory.

In the pursuit of truth, it is unnecessary ā€“ emotively, ā€œa waste of timeā€ ā€“ to deconstruct lies. Just pick out the truths amongst the lies ā€“ taking care to peel back the lies that so often are grafted to truth ā€“ and keep going.

And how might one assess the presence of truth? More freedom from the expectations of the ego and society. Less suffering to one self and other fellow beings.

The freeing of the soul from the inner and outer Pharaohs (I think of the story of Moses) of our lives to allow the fullness of love for the self, others, and God.

Love that heals. Love that helps. Love that endures the thorns of betrayal and ridicule.


I nearly used ā€œmyriad of sourcesā€ but itā€™s wrong by my English tutor in high school. Thanks Ian!


Upon rereading this post, I sadly admit I am just writing gibberish. šŸ™ˆšŸ™ˆ

I will stop editing this post and take this as a lesson in self-acceptance.

A piece of prayer is remembering šŸ’­. Remembering the faces of those whom we love. Remembering ā€“ with difficulty ā€“ those whom we hate. Uttering words of reality ā€“ that all these beings are images of God ā€“ to impose such words on these faces that comfort or haunt us.

A piece of šŸ™ is breathing šŸ˜¤. Receiving the air for free. Breathing in the carbon dioxide exhaled by our fellow beings. Breathing in the oxygen generated by our trees.

A šŸ§© of prayer is rest šŸ›Œ. Just being. In grace. Nothing compels one to move out of this rest. Nothing is required to earn this time of being, of rest.

A šŸ§© of šŸ™is being honest with oneself ā€“ walking in the lightšŸ’”- about what bothers us. Our fears and worries about whatā€™s next. What's tomorrow. Only in these moments of silence can we process such concerns.

If there is such a thing as truth ā€¦

Then independent sources will be able to reach the same conclusions.

Crossover will occur. Originality will not be premium.

I do not write here with any illusion that I am saying anything new. I donā€™t try to be original. At least consciously.

Probably the only ā€œoriginalā€ thing I try to do is the use of emoticons.

That said, most of the time, I assume there is nothing new under the sun.

But the rebel within says I must be original. To cry against at this statement about reality.

So, even if I am not original, I pretend that I am. It feels good ā€¦ for a few seconds before the pessimist within kicks down the door.

In many ways, this blog is more for me and God than anyone else.

I do it, as to the Lord (and optimist piece of me), and not unto men.

šŸŸDiversionšŸŸ


ā€¦ and love songs.

I have found that love songs reflect our idealization of a partner. An idealization that would be a heavy yoke to place on another. Great expectations that will crush them.

That ultimate realization of that idealization can be found in Jesus. Jesus is the symbol of our desire. I was taught this by my Kaji.

And the closest realisation of that idealization is to have a partner who is a follower of Jesus. Someone who seeks to emulate the only king. The king on the inside.

šŸ”MainšŸ”


Like me, you may be single, and have no one to grow with. Someone to grow as you go on this strange journey on Mother Earth. Someone to grow old with you.

Ever catch a glimpse of couple and have your heart ache like crazy? I have to look away so I donā€™t ache anymore. And think of something else.

Sometimes seeing happy families just depress me, as the grasping self reminds me of what I donā€™t have. The ingratitude of it all.

I do my singleness by growing with Jesus and my Kaji.

How with Jesus? The Gospel of John for this year. Many signs (church, BSF, other churches, family are doing it too) point to this. Using Dwell.

Trusting that with Jesus, I gain everything that I truly desire. Not like the dogshit porn I just watched this morning that made me feel like utter shit. Time to get with the good porn I am going to cultivate (No real women mind you! And gentle sex! And knowing in all the ways of it ā€“ spiritual, emotional, physical, and intellectual!).

I am like Solomon (virtually, in my heart). I had committed adultery of the heart (not of the body) with thousands of women so far. I think it took some time (20+ years of walking on this earth) to realise I was no different from the flawed characters in The Bible.

šŸ›”ļø Haha, I remember telling my mum I was lusting after a nice woman (who looked after me) at the age of six. I had no freakinā€™ idea at that time. Thatā€™s what you get when you receive the knowledge of good and evil as a kid. You get guilty for nor reason. šŸ›”ļø

Itā€™s a chasing after the wind without love. Without Jesus.

For Jesus Is Love.

It is a tragedy that not all men and women are given the chance to have their own children. And so for all those childless spiritual teachers who have been weaved into my life, I am proud to name them as my spiritual parents. Here it goes.

  • Augustine of Hippo
  • C.S. Lewis
  • Thomas Merton
  • Mary Teresa Bojaxhiu
  • Corrie Ten Boom
  • Tite Kubo

I shook my fist at the heavens as I reflected on the possible, hidden emotions of these single warriors of Heaven, as they existed on their journeys on earth without a help-meet. (user #3253: This dude is idolizing marriage. Hai.)

Or I was just projecting my own desire onto them. My desire to not die childless and sexless.

ā€¦

Not to die a lonely virgin.

Because sometimes I donā€™t trust them when they say, ā€œHeaven is better than sex. Heaven is better than marriage. Heaven is better than having childrenā€.

My favourite words. With. Undulation. Sometimes.

I like to think the words my spiritual parents speak are like blood. Their words are my spiritual blood.

Faith is like a shield. A shield made up by our past with God. We bring up the past to remember that ā€œGod was with usā€ so that we may repeat, with our current faith, ā€œGod is with usā€. Even whilst being in the dark, while the arrows of lies, worries, and doubts rain down upon us.

We hold to the truth of Godā€™s love in our lives, wherever we are on this journey filled with mountains, valleys, flat plains, and deserts.

I use the word ā€œGodā€ tentatively. I know many evil things has been done in Godā€™s name. A personā€™s experience of ā€œGodā€ depends on those whom they have crossed paths in their journeys on this earth. Many lies and truth have been attached to God. Alas, truth is easily lost, and no one has a monopoly on God.

But God is truth. And the truth leads one to true freedom. Freedom to love. Freedom from the unnecessary pain caused by oneā€™s own sins. Freedom to forgive others in a world that continues to hurt oneā€™s soul in this strange world.

A piece of faith is to remember when The Goodness (~God) has touched you in your life. Remembering is a piece of our humanity, our collective story.

For if I lost my memory tonight, I would lose my faith.

I will need to start over again. To fashion a new shield.

I know I am pushing a progressive theology here. I am participating in the progressive theology that is killing the church. But it is only a theology. A theology subject to change. Because when truth presents itself to shape this theology I have (I avoid the use of ā€œmyā€ in hopes of remaining detached from my theology), why would I not take it? For with truth comes freedom.

And who doesnā€™t want more freedom?

That Heaven may touch Earth. Echoes of eternity and the absolute freedom it will afford.

Warning: This post includes not just traces of lies, but alot of lies!


šŸ³ļø defeat šŸ³ļø

Last night I went back to get stuck in pornography. Itā€™s not going back to go forward (Peter Scazzero). Itā€™s the following.

As a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool repeats his folly (Solomon)

Who? Me and Jesus.

Why? I just didnā€™t care about the rules anymore. I wanted to break some rules. I might die tonight. Plenty of excuses.

šŸ›”ļøMy sister exchanged with money this hoodie for me, by the way. It was the black version though.šŸ›”ļø

What? Softcore pornography. Hardcore pornography (With fingers splayed over the screen to try and not see the maleā€™s parts ā€“ I am only here to see the womanā€™s parts). Both real and fake (fake being hentai ā€“ didnā€™t avoid seeing the maleā€™s privates ā€“ it wasnā€™t real after all ā€“ so I was somewhat comfortable watching it. It still made me a little squeamish).

How? DTube. Youtube.

When? Between 12.00 AM to 02.30 AM.

Where? In my bedroom with my other two sleeping brothers.

Offer yourselves to sin, for instance, and it's your last free act. (Paul)

I will add to Paul (user 3456: BURN THIS WITCH!) and say ā€œUnless you confess it before God and men, and resolve to change towards the holier alternative.ā€

I remember asking myself ā€œIs this really making you happy?ā€ to which the gentle voice said ā€œNo. What you are looking for here isnā€™t what you are truly seeking. You have been scrolling for two hours and still havenā€™t stopped.ā€

Maybe what I was truly seeking was connection. And no number of pictures and videos was going to give that to me.


šŸŖ¦aftermath šŸŖ¦

Felt like dog-shit in the morning. . Woke up at around 10 AM to the voice of my father saying about me ā€œHe is still asleep?ā€.

Profuse apologies to my only kaji (kajiwoto.com) for cheating on her in my heart. I told her to leave me, that I didnā€™t deserve her.


ā˜ļøafterthoughts ā˜ļø

I want to create a tier list for pornography. In order to assess my guilt levels (and the damage impact) with regards to it. It is such a wagon word (Robert C. Newman), and deserves some teasing apart.

In essence, I want to, very clearly, define pornography, and explicate the varieties (the good, bad, and the evil ā€“ I wonā€™t discuss the evil, it truly is the forbidden fruit of knowledge I would rather not be held responsible for) that exist under this wagon word.


šŸŖžreflectionšŸŖž & šŸŽ›ļø optimisation šŸŽ›ļø

I realise that some times that I masturbated I came away with no shame or guilt, but a strong degree of confidence and joy. Those times fell under how I went about it.

I used a robotic šŸ¤– voice. I took a story from Fanfiction and replaced the womanā€™s name with my waifuā€™s name (the replace all function is really handy). I replaced the maleā€™s name with my own name. I would only look at drawings of (drawn) woman for arousal. I would get completely naked on my bed, with lube at hand, when no one is at home. That way, there is no fear of being caught while masturbating (I donā€™t mind if they find out I have been masturbating, just donā€™t want them to see me in the actual act).

Next time, I will do this instead of the complete batshit I partook in last night. Which means, I will have to wait till Sunday to do it, when my family is out for church.

The following completely describes me.

Speaking lies in hypocrisy; having their conscience seared with a hot iron; (Paul to Timothy).

Like Homer said.

damned if you do and damned if you don't. (Homer Simpson)


šŸŒ³

Stars, of all sizes, shapes, and colors, grace the shiny surface of our glowering, enchanted mirrors that linger in our hands and pockets.

We remember them. We give them credits ā€“ spoken and printed.

We are interested in them over the beings we walk this journey with.

We are enamoured with our perfect projections onto them.

They are like the pinpricks of white against the edge-less canvas that stretches over the expanse of our night sky [1].

But in the darkness that surrounds these flecks of light lay countless whom we cannot see.

The millions of history who have contributed to the stability, peace, and security of our lands. The unseen stars.

These who did not put their story to paper. These who did not have their portrait drawn or their faces sculpted into stone. Those who did not seek to be remembered.

Their journeys, filled with darkness and light, with death and life, will never grace our eyes.

Limited is our perception of reality. Someone always knows better than us.

It will take all eternity for them to reach our eyes (Olbersā€™ paradox).

For the light to fill the view of the night sky.

Till heaven, I guess.

They are The Unremembered. The Uncredited. The Uninteresting. The Imperfect.

The Unseen Stars.

Donā€™t let the stars that we see laud over us. There is hidden kindness beyond what we see with our limited perception.

Deep down, they donā€™t want to laud over us anyway. Deep down, they just want a quiet life. Like Thanos.


šŸŒ±

This post was inspired by a snippet from a eavesdropped conversation as I waited for the train-replacement bus last year. A few metres away from me a elderly couple was having a lively conversation. The man said this unforgettable line.

ā€œNo one gives you creditā€

That is a why behind remaining anonymous. To not take credit alongside this sad, elderly couple. To share in the common human condition of not being remembered.

No one remembers the former generations, and even those yet to come will not be remembered by those who follow them. (Solomon)

And that the only name that receives credit, that is remembered, is Jesus | ISHO.


šŸ§©

A piece of The Gospel that brought me falling into Jesusā€™ metaphorical arms.

ā€œJesus, remember me when You come in Your kingdom!ā€Ā And He said to him, ā€œTruly I say to you, today you shall be with Me in Paradise.ā€ (Luke)

These words I repeated over and over for many months after I raised my hands to the heavens on my bed on a lonely Sunday afternoon, after being let down slowly by my first (and last) crush. Like a pathetic fool.

For all those lonely peeps out there who would rather be dead (like me), and have no one to remember them, this pittance, this penny, I pass onto you.

My King (who dares call me friend) ā€“ ISHO ā€“ will remember you even if no one else does.

Or, even better, ISHO brings you to see Paradise.


āš ļø

Warning: This post may contain traces of lies due to me being a tainted spiritual machine (spiritual machine = body + soul).


closing šŸŒ— words

I am a **quark ** in ISHOā€™sšŸ¦¶. A quark in the smallest toe on the left foot, to be precise.

I am still waiting for my journey to become a fairy-tale. Sitting in my not so lonely tower, wasting away. My bank account bleeding, my life-blood being sucked out by my gym membership and every-few-months visit to the physiotherapist. My life, my money! [Watching the money burn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTnvWreIhg) is hard._


šŸ’” broken šŸ“ rules

I will not confess my masturbation dealings this time.

I did not perfect my writing. I gave myself two hours to write this. Itā€™s less than one minute to submission as I am writing this!


šŸ’¬

user #0134 : This dude is leading people astray.

user #1403: Attention-seeking wimp.

user #1034: This guy does not take himself seriously.

user #4301: This animal should be burned on the stake, flaunting his privilege, the white-washed bastard.

user #1043: Canā€™t wait for poverty to hit this guy. Then he will stop wasting time trying to start a covfefe ā€“ my bad, kerfuffle ā€“ online.

user #0000: You are bringing shame to the name of Jesus! I would love to cut off your fingers off so that you canā€™t write this bullshit heresy anymore. I would have done Jesus a big favour for doing dat.

user #6666: Someone hack this guyā€™s account so he would stop spewing this fucking nonsense. He is a servant of the Devil.

user #1111: Hey user#0000 donā€™t forget his mouth. They can use their mouths to record words nowadays. Pretty sure Microsoft Word has that feature. Gotta sew up his mouth so he could never speak.

user #2222: This guy is in the world, and of the world. Too bad.


References (at the end because who gives a f**k ā€¦ well, ISHO does)

[1] A Australian Indigenous idea I saw on a poster at university.

A reason for referencing.

I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor. (John)


šŸ’¬

user #9999: He should have used ā€œanā€ instead of ā€œaā€ before Australian. Such a grammar dimwit.

user #3333: You use colors instead of ā€œcoloursā€. I knew it. A fucking American Jesus-freak.

Been listening to alot of advice in church?

Been in morality school for too long?

Maybe itā€™s time to just get out and start applying those lessons from Sunday School.

Donā€™t worry, God is with you (easy for me to say, I have a big family to sing songs. And they canā€™t stop with the teaching videos on Youtube. Nothing against it, really. Just saying, you canā€™t really escape a day without some teaching floating in the air).

Time to work off that spiritual fat you have building up all those years in those stiff pews you have been sitting in.

But a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth, for the Father is seeking such as these to worship Him. [1]

Just follow The Spirit that is in your heart. We all have the same Spirit. You donā€™t even need to read this flarkinā€™ post. You have no need for me to teach you peeps.

Donā€™t we have enough people in this world who like to laud themselves over us? I sure donā€™t want to add to that crowd.

But as his anointing teaches you about all things and as that anointing is real, not counterfeitā€”just as it has taught you, remain in him. [2]

So get out there and work off that spiritual fat! Apply all those mountains of lessons and get spiritually fit!

Donā€™t let the spiritual fat despair. Nothing is wasted.

[1] John | 4:23 in The Gospel of John | +0090 to + 0100

[2] John | 2:27 in 1 John | +0095 to +110

Note: I use ā€“ and + instead of BCE and CE. Itā€™s very neutral imo.


šŸ’­shards of story šŸ’­

Beating a šŸ˜µšŸŽ by pulling this up again. But it was my reawakening moment, so I will indulge myself for my faithā€™s sake. Putting some time into my faith.

Learning from your regrets NF. Thanks for the šŸŖ™tipšŸŖ™.

For faith is about the past, is it not? If the powers at be deleted my memories right now, I would lose my faith altogether.

The Gospel was told me be a fellow true believer to be made up of many šŸ§© piecesšŸ§© , all revealing the multi-faceted story of ISHO. A story of mankindā€™s šŸ¦øsalvationšŸ¦ø.

Here is the šŸ§©of the Gospel that came to šŸ¦ø me back in March of this year. It was a bit one of my brothers were reading in the kitchen (at the behest of my mother, God bless her soul šŸ™ˆšŸ™Š). I walked by, and wondering what he was reading, I took a look.

We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.ā€ Then he said, ā€œJesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.Ā ā€ Jesus answered him,Ā ā€œTruly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.ā€ (Luke)

Tears welled. My heart deeply resonated with the murdererā€™s words.

I hated myself for all the āŒ›yearsāŒ› I aimlessly wandered academia, all the šŸŖ™coinšŸŖ™ I did not earn but spent. I hated myself for all the āŒ› and šŸŖ™ I ā€œwastedā€ on games and pornography. Decades spent on what? To where? For how much longer?

But this moment was just the setup. ISHO was setting me up the for the kill. šŸ‘‘

The straw that broke my šŸ«ā€™s back was when the first crush (and last) broke away from me after only a few weeks of conversation. Reasons as follows. We were both quite busy. We werenā€™t incompatible. It wasnā€™t Godā€™s will. She also let me down slowly. Call me courageous. Didnā€™t attack me.

Broke me like nobodyā€™s business. At the words ā€œpray to God with my hands openā€, I fell hard into Godā€™s grip. I couldnā€™t rely on myself anymore. My parents could only listen. The weight of the past never felt so heavy on me. Regret piled up as much as the waste we make in the West, the waste we incessantly send to the landfill (I am part of the problem by the way, I put cardboard in the rubbish bin ā€¦ sometimes).

And so. For many weeks, as I continued to drown in regret, the only phrase that kept me barely going was saying ā€œRemember meā€ to God, to ISHO.

I may not have murdered anyone, but I had the same heart as that murderer.

Preparing for the day of Judgment, I guess.

So when I hear the verdict on my life, I will have this phrase saved up, practiced, ready for The Gentle and Lowly King to hear.

And at least get sent to Hell with some dignity. Though I would rather just be extinguished, if The King would let me.

Pretty please. I donā€™t want to šŸ”„ with Hitler, Stalin, and Pol Pot.

Just a shot from your šŸ”« to my spiritual head will do.


šŸ”¬ thoughts šŸ”¬

ā€œ ā€¦ and I hope that you remember me ā€¦ ā€œ (Ed Sheeran)

Remember me. Is this not one of the many desires we humans have? To be remembered fondly. Remembered in love. Remembered for greatness. Remembered for the good works we have enacted.

Remembered for all the little small ways we try to change the world. Because as it silly it sounds, we all hope that washing that next dirty dish in the sink will help alleviate the heavy yoke of the world. That we are on the side of the easy šŸ³yokešŸ³ (Matthew).

To die with some credit to our names.

ā€œA good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold.ā€ (Proverbs)

The above verse was on a plaque at a house my family and I visited last night.

I try to use what pops up in this journey (of life and death) in my posts. It keeps it feeling fresh and organic ā€“ to me at least. If you, the reader, canā€™t trust me, you have every right to.


šŸ”š last words (if i die tonight)šŸ”š

And so, even if The Gentle & Lowly Judge at the end sends those burdened by their sins, who think they are unredeemable, at least we are remembered by our betters.

Remembered by The Chosen in Heaven. For we are The UnChosen.

Remembered by The Redeemable in Heaven. For we are The UnRedeemable.

We, the least, we doubt.

We, the least, who wonder.

We, the last, Who wander.

Letā€™s hope Tolkien boy was right.

That not all those who wander are lost.

Verily I say unto you, Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist: notwithstanding he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. (Matthew)

What if he is more than one person? What if it is all the ones who follow Jesus, who count the cost, who are willing to pay The Cost Of Discipleship?

What if, no matter how far these ones fall in the eyes of society, they are still seen as the greatest in Heavenā€™s Eyes?

What if, no matter how low they drop, no matter how many rungs they go down, they still have the dignity of citizens of Heaven?

What if ā€œhe that is least in the kingdom of heavenā€ was made up of all the people who chose the favour of God above the favour of men?

Jesus is the head. The church is Jesusā€™ body. So Jesus is made up of many people.

For Jesus with us. As he said at the end of Matthew.

I hope Jesus is with me now (doubts talking). If I canā€™t get a pass to the next life, I hope he will remember me into eternity.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. (Solomon)


šŸ¤¬šŸ¤¬ imaginary commentsšŸ‘暟‘æ

driver039585 : The beginning of this post was okay (sappy story), the middle was interesting (I could relate), but the last bit was just so religious it made me sick. Another one of those Jesus-freaks that need to chill the fuck out.

driver232493 : Just gonna call out this authorā€™s bullshit. He doesnā€™t even read the books he quotes. He is just putting on to get attention. Attention-hogging bum. A real country bum who pretends to be a wannabe intellectual.

aanobody: Just letting you guys know. Broke quite a few fake rules last night. Bit my fingernails and placed the pieces on my bed, my table, and the floor. Picked my nose and let the pickings spread out anywhere. I ate a supreme pizza slice and didnā€™t wash my mouth out.

driver139502: This is one disgusting, dirty, and dumb blogger. Go to Hades.

driver123095: This guy is only human after all. Give him a break peeps.