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 ...

What is society that I must follow its “imaginary hand” rules? I am presently reading a book that my younger sister and brother asked me to read called “The Giver,” written by Lois Lowry. It reminds of a young Huxley before “A Brave New World.” The story is fundamentally the same. A utopian society, bothered by a riff of mis-intelligence, someone catches on, must suffer through pain due to truth. The whole story is told in order that one might question themselves as to why they follow rules established by the civil “norm”. Don’t think this applies to you? Well it does. Have you ever wanted to follow the career choice that you think would fit you best and then looked at how much they make and decided against it? Ever known that you didn’t want to go to college but to please your parents or those around you, you went? Do you feel pressure to graduate high school by at least 18, college by no later than 23, married by 25, kids by 28, etc. etc. That my friend is the invisible hand o...

Please feel to write me with your philosophy, musical tastes, psychological analysis, or other areas of expertise. i will post anything if its worth relaying. stephen@stephenchristian.us

"dear stephen in reply to your last entry, I think everybody at some point in their brief speck of time on earth wishes they can go back to when the only problem they had was eating all their peas so they could have dessert. Unfortunately, in our ever-changing world things come and go, everybody knows it hurts to grow up. Reading your posts have made me think about some of the actions and experiences I have encounterd in my life in a new light. I miss childhood, but I always remind myself what I have lost in innocence Ive gained in freedom. Freedom to try something different, Freedom to achieve something, Freedom to fail, Freedom to lose it all, Freedom to rise from the ashes of failure, and freedom to think about what is real and forever rather than some passing fad. -ucfb" good point * but the problem philosophically here is that we as children never knew of such freedom, therefore never missed it. its like asking a person in tribe in africa if they ever cr...

I feel lost sometimes, as if the world is going on around me and im watching it from afar. I want to go back and push pause on the videotape of my life at age 12. when the most we had to worry about was what time mom would call us in, and NOT money, fame, power, greed, sex, politics, or religion. life was carefree. a cardboard box could be a plane, boat, or spaceship. now a cardboard box is used as something to pack past memories in or just another convenient trash receptacle. my brother was my best friend ever, and now we struggle to speak once every other week. he has a child, who will one day love cardboard boxes im sure. someone asked me today my thoughts of what heaven is going to be like, and I went into some pseudo-religious, quasi-intelligent, brilliantly-shallow, explanation on the going-ons of the life after.... but in retrospect I wish I would have said I want heaven to be nothing more than life as an eternal 12 year old, with a never ending supply of refrigerator boxes,...

well let me start out with an apology, i have not seen a computer in quite some time. therefore have not had a chance to write to you, but thanks so much for all the emails. im sitting here in new york city, at the murray hill theatre recovering from a late night (early morning) and a most interesting taxi ride home. i saw several bands that i had been interested in seeing for some time (my chemical romance, death by murder, tora tora torance). tonight is the highlight, mars volta (in my opinion the pink floyd of the 2000's. current music im listening to: (no paticular order) !. cursive (ugly organ) *saddle creek records- its like the cure+238 x emo from omaha=cursive 2. mars volta-deloused in the comatorium- think at the drive in - sparta= mars 3. radiohead- hail to the thief * could have been the album before kid a and after ok, songs 1,6,13, and 14 are going on their greatest hits album. 4. damien rice- o * rebirth of folk. poetry as lyrics, amazing album ...

Hi. I've never really sent an e-mail like this, but I know I like to know when I do something good for someone else and I imagine you're the same. I just wanted you to know that your music always helps me alot. I can almost always relate to your lyrics and after a hard day nothing makes me feel better than to get in my car, listen to good music, and know I'm not the only one in the world that feels that way. I was at the show you played with My Hotel Year about a week ago. That's what urged me to write. I just wanted you to know that your music means something to at least someone. -@ dear @, thanks so much for this email, im glad that someone can not only relate but be affected by something that i created.

today i recieved this: stephen, Sept. 5 you wrote "If I could re-live last night over, I would." And on Sept. 6th I wrote this: If I could re-live last night over, I would. And that's all you write. That's all I have to ponder. No tone of voice. No facial expression. No story behind the words to ease my curiousity. Of course, when I first read the words on the screen, I immediately sensed romance. At least that's what female intuition assumed. A night - an encounter with a woman whose beauty and smile captured your entire being. I suppose you strolled the city together until you came across a local coffee shop. There the conversation intensified and so did the emotions as you shared your life dreams, your faith, your authors, and your philosophies. If only the ocean were nearby, you would continue the evening with a walk along the beach, the sand between your toes and her fingers entwined with yours. The stars claim their presence in the...

"let me meet a man (or women) who has read 1000 books and i have met a friend, let me meet a man (or women) who has read but a few, and i have met but another enemy." -S. LaPiere

a young lady sent me this on www.stephenchristian.us; hey, my name is (____)....i started listening to Anberlin not too awful long ago and then visited your site and downloaded your solo songs. Ive been reading your thoughts on the modesty writers guild and i must say that youve made me think...i wont lie and say i agree with everything you write, i will go so far as to say youve made me think. Ive been bewildered, angry, sad, and even felt the same way. The one particular post that got me the most was dated august 28th. It dealt with the human desire to leave a mark; to make something of the lives we lead. Ive come to terms with the fact that anything or "me" will never amount to anything or ever be remembered as "great". I remember an essay once that i had to write and everytime i wrote (and rewrote) it i hated every word i wrote even though it was what i believed. On paper what i belived seemed so plain and commonplace....why wou...

"Life is a hospital where each patient is possesed by the desire to change beds. This one would like to suffer facing the stove, that one believes that he would be cured next to the window. It seems to me that i would always be will where i am not, and this question of moving is one that i will discuss endlessly with my soul." Charles Baudelaire ANYWHERE OUT OF THE WORLD did he read my mind? everywhere is my hospital bed. i move here/there and i think someone somwhere else is finding ecstasy elsewhere. contentment evades me like the women of my dreams, like fame, like money, like power, like intellectual stimulation. Chicago has art, Seattle has music, New Orleans has mystery, Paris has culture, Spain has elegence, London has fashion, New York has trend, and my apartment has... only me.