The Modesty Writers Guild

"the status quo is not an option" -professor ucf

"i like the idea behind the writers guild a LOT -- perhaps i'll contribute something dazzlingly intelligent someday. meanwhile, october 27th's post brought a smile. i, too, once played and lived and dreamed in cardboard boxes. i was just thinking of it, actually -- thinking of how much i miss it, and that even though i might still be able to squeeze into a refrigerator box, it wouldn't be the same...all of the preconceived notions i once had of life would come flooding back, and it would be too painful to face how greatly the real Me differs from the Me that i imagined i would be. -emily" thanks emily for your contribution, it was dazzlingly intelligent. -stephen

in reply to sasha "sasha, you're very right to reach the conclusion of not judging a religion by its followers. there are plenty of things in my life that contradict what i believe. i doubt you've read any existentialist philosophy at 16 (most people don't seem to get into it till their college years), but you really might enjoy kierkegaard. he delves into Christianity specifically, but he explores the seeming problems of what he knows and what he believes. he torments himself with knowing about life and how he can't use reason to establish what Christianity says is truth. he talks heavily about taking a leap of faith to believe what he can't prove. as a Christian, and as someone who likes to question what i believe, i identify with this a lot. anyways, back to what you wrote... you are very mature to not believe what someone tells you to believe. i think that's a dangerous thing, and leads to what you said in the line "person w

Clarification: I am a human and I fail. this is a statement to say that I, stephen christian, am not perfect. I am no super hero or saint. instead I am here to acknowledge that I am a failure, like every other human being. I am the least of these, and have made more than my share of idiotic choices in my lifetime. I try to be a man of character but alas, can not say that with any sincerity. but I refuse to quit trying. I now know what it feels like to need Gods grace and mercy, and I would hope that each reader would not think themselves better than to need Gods grace, or think that they are better than anyone else. some have said that I have acted "holier than though", and if I have in the past than I am sorry, for I know that I am no better than anyone else in this world, and am not worthy to wash the lowest of the lows feet. the difference between me and others is though I feel as though my back is scar'ed by others slander, and my face covered in the dirt in which I

"I still play with cardboard boxes." -marie

"...I don't think that I can rightfully call myself any religion. I don't know enough about any religion to say that I belong to it, or agree with it. I am not going to simply belief in a pantheon of gods because my parents do. Nor am I going to belief in a single Christian God because a guy at school handed me a pamphlet telling me I'm going to hell if I don't. I like the idea of a God, in a way. I think Jesus was a great leader and a truly supernatural person. I don't agree with the vast majority of the churches here though. I've been to most of them. One preached hate against gay people... I don't understand how they can justify that when they're supposed to "love thy neighbor." One of our Catholic priests got taken out of the church for misconduct. It goes on and on. I imagine I can't judge a religion by its followers though. If I did that, every religion on the face of the planet would be out. Every reli

"I was going looking at your information on mp3.com and came across your Modesty Writer's Guild and decided to read it. One entry put slight pings in my heart because I know how terrible the feeling can be of just feeling useless and that you're not putting anything worthwhile out to the world. I've come to find out though that even the world may not see the impact of your being, the many people around you do. Many people that I haven't talked to in several years can still string tales about me and things I have done that have escaped my memory long ago. Some of their memories are so detailed that they probably could have told you what color my socks were that day (probably white but that really has nothing to do with anything). I just thought it was somewhat amusing that they are there telling these detailed stories about me, the quiet kid in the back of class who the kids all loved to turn their backs to. The kid who never thought he would ever be reme

"Hey Stephen, I've found that G.K. Chesterton quote that I couldn't think of while we were doing the interview in Cincinnati. I had to dig through some old Ravi tapes and found it in his message on New Age mysticism. " The problem with Christianity is not that is has been tried and found wanting, but that it has been found difficult and left untried." -G.K. Chesterton Thanks again for the interview, hope all is well. (feel free to add me to your email list on philosophy, etc. I eat it up.) -Chris" thanks chris that is so powerful, i want everyone to see it

"I was already in bed, but it didn’t take much convincing for me to leave its warmth and to join yours. The temperature outside screamed single digits while our hearts longed for double. That’s why you called. And that’s why I got out of bed. I waited for your knock to confirm the reservation. But you had none and neither did I. The snow wasn’t planned; it simply happened and so did we. Your gentle knock on the door beat through my entire being. A deep breath and a turn of the handle, my heart was awakened. I stepped outside, but it no longer felt cold for your smile had removed the chill from the air. Instead only laughter and snowflakes remained. Together we made fresh footprints in the snow as we walked to the park. While the world around us slept, our hearts were alive. We sled down the hills, threw balls of snow, and made angels underneath the night’s sky. That’s when I offered you to taste the falling winter. You were skeptical, but I assured you

"She walked in with a well thought out scarf and a hat to cover the war torn mascara running down her cheek. I knew she was there but was not about to let the silence of the past few weeks dictate my feelings now. It was an error of communication, a battle scar stapled to the side of time, it was coming to ahead, tonight. Her angle was simple, unlike mine, one of ruined expectations, of tired phone calls at the egoist hour of 3 am. She put her head on my shoulder, just like the time at the airport, where she felt helpless in my arms and I felt that finally I had the chance to make someone feel secure. "are you to stay the night?," she asked so nonchalantly, " the city is full of life and these streets of _______ are full of life at this hour. The next thing I remember was the moment I woke up wondering if it had happened at all. The sun hit my face like an unwelcomed strike from a nemesis. was this a dream, or the beginning of a recurring nightmare. So many times I