I haven't done any man-hating in a long time, and due to pms and the abundance or life stress, I feel like taking it out on something.

Enjoy the excessive pink-ness.

Also, this is nothing personal to any male whatsoever. It's more of a "I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH ALL THESE BILLION AND A HALF PAPERS AND I WANT TO BE ANGRY AT SOMETHING" feeling. I guess.

I actually like guys, but I also like this picture.



EDIT at 2:55pm: I do not hate boys. I do not hate men. I just like the picture and its sassiness. Do not misinterpret this blog.

*coughADDICTcough*

I finished reading Hebrews this morning and then read a selection from My Utmost for His Highest. Today I felt like what I read a) actually applied and b) actually kind of stuck in my head. Yesterday's reading was just an act and didn't really penetrate into my head or heart. This morning's seems to have done both, especially what Chambers had to say.

Chambers' topic was about humility and how we present ourselves in ways that we think are humble but are, in fact, insulting to God. He gave the spiritual example of saying, "Oh, I'm not a saint," but that's really saying that God could not sanctify. But there are other ways that we insult God in our "humility." We say things like "I'm really not pretty," "I don't have that much talent," "I can't effectively minister to others," etc. When we say that, we're giving Him a bad rap as our Creator and Redeemer.

Hence why I have many thoughts to ponder today. (Also, but for unrelated reasons, I think I shall wear makeup.)

early

I don't like being up this early, but a chain of events led me to be seated at my desk, so here I be, discussing the chain with you. Because nothing is perfectly logical like forcing myself to stay awake just a little bit more to feed my blogging addiction. Point A: the fact that I'm so addicted to blogging that I maintain three to four separate blogging sites and update all of them somewhat regularly should SCREAM "addict." Plus, I have a way of blogging on the go, AND I blog at random hours of the night, pending on being awake and/or having something to talk about. Right now, don't really have anything to talk about, but I'm awake, and I'm going to type.

So first of all, woke up from a weird dream and did not respond well to it. Secondly, my roommate has a cold and was snoring very loudly, preventing me from falling back asleep. I think I'm getting tired enough again to be able to go back to sleep soon. (Oh good) Thirdly, I had to pee. Fourthly, I was thirsty. Fifthly, as I was lying in bed trying to go back to sleep from the potty/drink break, I had a mini panic attack about my class today, whether or not a rough draft was due. (It's not.) Sixthly (and that's hard to say), my skin is uber dry and itches like a mother. But I think I'm going to apply some lotion and hit the hay again.

gah!

I can be one very slow individual. Apparently I'm a very bitter person. That...really...sucks. *shakes head* I didn't think I was one. I was, at one point, very positive, laid back, optimistic, cheerful. Basically, I was a good person to be around, uplifting and all that jazz. I guess not anymore and that really makes me sad.

I'm glad someone pointed it out because I could've gone many years without coming to that realization and then being permanently a horrible person to be around. It hurts to realize how much of a jerk I've been in the past months, but...it's better to know so that it can be fixed.

Frustration

It's somewhat ironic that I'm typing this brief blog from Tyler's computer since he and I don't seem to see eye to eye on this matter. This matter is that of the AG doctrinal position of the initial physical evidence of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit being that of speaking in tongues. Really, I don't have a problem with that doctrine. I agree that a "physical" way of telling that someone is Spirit-filled is that they will speak in tongues. That makes sense. The problem I have with this is that I know that I've been filled with the Spirit, but I don't speak in tongues. And maybe a big part of it is that I don't really understand it. I know that there is value and power to the gift, but I know that I have power in my prayers now. I wish that I could speak in tongues because there are so many times that I want to pray and words just don't come to me. I don't have the words to pray, and that's especially when I wish the Spirit would pray for me. Again, maybe I don't really understand the doctrine.

The reason why I'm on Ty's computer is that I just printed something off from his printer--the computer labs are all closed today b/c of the snow day--and the application that I just filled printed is for a missions trip w/ the AG and...of course, the matter of that doctrine comes up. I started filling the app out yesterday and filled out the personal section roughly, trying to get an idea of how best to fill it out. From here, I'm going to fill out that section again--neatly--and then continue on with the application process. I was very upset by this, and it still upsets me, and okay, I'm premenstrual, but it shouldn't be this bad.

My heart sunk in my chest yesterday when I got to that section. It just seems that I'm going to be excluded from working with the AG on account of this gifting. It's not that I'm not seeking the gift--I've been praying for it for over ten years. Tyler doesn't seem concerned about it because his perspective is that everyone will have that gift. But it's a gift. It's not like I get to choose to have it, it needs to be given to me. It's very discouraging. But I'm going to fill out the application, send it in, and let God take care of it. If he wants me to go to China, He'll make a way.

Snow day!

Basically, that sums it up.

pms survival tips

I am premenstrual. I pity those around me, but mostly I just want to cry.

perfection?

Is there such a thing as "too" perfect? There's a point where I begin to doubt perfection, and that's my paranoid self freaking out. It's weird, because I was freaking out about this earlier, but now I'm not. Maybe it's been that I've had time to emotionally distance myself--not cut off the emotion, but allow the hormones to abate in order to view the situation from a logical perspective. (Oh geez...I really do use isolation as a coping mechanism. "Emotions are good...but let's weigh in intellectually before we do anything too rash, okay?")

Anyhow, this weekend has been amazing in so many ways. I feel a part of the Cronk clan now--yipes--and I'm actually okay with that prospect--double yipes. That means that even less is holding me back from a future with Tyler. I'm both excited and terrified by the idea. (Still. It doesn't seem to go away, just more illumination on the subject occurs over time.) We had a lot of time together, we were both relaxed, and let's just say SFL (sexual frustration level) spiked pretty much all the time. It got to the point of me sitting next to him and my heart would beat faster!

One of the nights, we were sitting alone--and I was sitting on his lap--but we were talking and gazing into each others' eyes--yeah, cheesy, I know ;) --and Tyler asks me, "Will you marry me?" I was floored by the question...and yet not really. I was so uncertain how to respond. I didn't think he was fully serious--he wasn't--and after further clarification realized he meant in a theoretical future. He says he's going to ask me again, seriously, in the future, but it was more of a pre-emptive question.

After the emotional high dwindled to a dull roar, we talked about it more. I wanted to ask him during daylight hours if what he'd said was true. Did he really mean it or was it the mood of the previous evening/the glass of wine at dinner/my yoga pants (?) that swayed him to say it? He said it was still real and it hadn't been influenced by other sources. I believe him, but I'm still in a whirl because of it.

Tonight we watched Serenity together. We were...wow. It's getting to the point of impossibility to be that close without succumbing to temptation--in whatever form that might take. Geez. I think my heart was about to explode half the night! I'm beginning to think that his being gone for six months in China is going to be a blessing. Part of this is that we've had a segment of time together a lot, and that will of course increase interest in each other. So it's good that we're both going to be busy for the rest of the semester and will be going our separate ways for Christmas break.

But I'm getting off topic. (A little.) After the movie, we were talking things over, and I wasn't freaking out about anything. He talked about his past some, and for once, I didn't wig out over the girls in his past. (Finally! Thank you, Jesus, for working on that in my mind.) Maybe I'm finally catching on to the fact that Tyler really loves me and that his past is staying in the past. Oh yeah, and I almost kissed him.

WHOA!

I was kissing his cheek, and I kissed near his mouth--awfully near--and then my heart stopped. Did I or didn't I kiss him? I was absolutely mortified about the idea that I might have, so I kind of curled into his chest and asked if I had. I hadn't, fortunately, but I was still worried. It would have been so easy. To clarify: Tyler and I have promised not to kiss each other unless we get married. That sounds very "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" but it's based on our similar pasts of being tempted and falling to sexual/lustful temptation. Both of us want to keep our relationship pure and don't want to taint it, so we've set up this precedent so as to avoid going too far. So far in our relationship, it's worked...but it's getting so hard! I can't begin to explain how hard it is not to kiss him every time I see him. Again, good thing that we're going our separate ways for awhile, eh?

But back to talking. While we were talking, I was asking Tyler questions and throughout the conversation, he kept giving the perfect answers or saying the ideal things. Girls, you know what I mean--those things that you always hope a guy will say to you? It's so hard to imagine that a guy--a real guy and not some fantasy man--will actually say those things and MEAN them instead of saying them for the sake of manipulation. I know that he's not manipulating me--at least I think I know--because I've prayed about it and I'm not getting any negative feedback from my Daddy upstairs. So it's weird. I'm at the point of accepting it as truth, and I want to, and I am, but there's part of me that's still questioning it. I don't feel that it's false, and I don't think it either, but there's this part of me that's saying, "Logically, this can't be real, so why are you believing it?" Fortunately, that voice is very small, and I can shush it easily. Again, I've prayed and I'm not seeing something horribly wrong.

All this to say, I think I'm going to try to keep my distance for awhile.

Thanksgiving weekend

I love my family, even though they're all in Cali without me. Seriously, even my hermit uncle from Seattle is down there. I believe I'm the only one--on both sides of my family--who's not down there with everyone else. Of course, things weren't planned to be like this because my parents should have been in Africa by now--they're flying out tomorrow--and my sister and brother-in-yuck should've stayed up here in Washington instead of moving down there. But, eh, things change. Really, I think it's good that everyone is down there instead of up here because this way, I get to go with Tyler and his immediate family to meet the extendeds on either side. And I'm loving it. :)

When I went up to AK to visit Ty this summer, I felt immediately at home. I blogged about that, starting here. (Feel free to go back and read through that week's adventures, if you "missed out.") Anyhow, all that to say, I feel the same here. It's taken me a few days to get past my shyness, but I've never felt awkward or uncomfortable with either side. I like them. They're funny, they're warm, they've welcomed me in with hugs and smiles. I have to say, pretty much most of my doubts that I may have had are erased. Most. There's still one or two MAJOR ones, but the basics have been covered.

I'm so glad to have this time away from school where I can regroup and enjoy life again. It's been nice to wander around the family farm with Tyler, to talk a lot with Kat, and to eat amazing food every day at every meal. I honestly don't think life can get much better than this. It's going to be so hard to go back to school and endure cafeteria food and hectic schedules again! My next goal: make it through the end of semester so that I can enjoy Chad equally. :)

Yesterday, Laura and Kat and I went to an old-style diner that makes their own ice cream. The place is called Alf's, and if you're ever in McMinnville, OR, you must go because their ice cream is phenomenal, and they have monkeys. Truly. They have a monkey room with big glass windows right there in the diner and they have monkeys. Or maybe just one monkey for now. There was only one in there yesterday, but it was so precious! A little capuchin monkey named Elvis. I want one. (Shh...don't tell Tyler!) I think it'd be great to have a monkey for a ringbearer at a wedding, however. That'd be so incredibly memorable!

Anyhow, the reason the three of us went to the ice cream place is because Laura wanted to tell us about her trip to Denver where she met with some counselors for "prophetic counseling" as part of a mental/emotional deliverance. And of course, we wanted to hear about it. It was good to hear her experiences because both Kat and I have been through counseling for similar reasons--similar to each other, not Laura, that is--but we can relate to the emotional trauma that life can cause. The conclusion we came to is that trauma is in the eye of the beholder.

On the way back from Alf's, we started discussing a book that Laura wants to write for girls who have gone through some pretty traumatic experiences. We talked about how the church tends to be unforgiving to teenagers who screw up, but will welcome back adults who have done the same and/or worse. We also talked about how there is this bizarre idea of virginity=purity. That is primarily false. Purity is a mindset, not a physical experience. There are "virgins" who are impure--I am/have been one of them! I'm technically a virgin sexually, but I had a pornography/masturbation addiction and even though I was considered "pure" I never felt it.

And there are girls who have been molested who feel like their purity has been robbed from them, or like they never had it. So how do they fit in? Especially in reading books on purity, there is very little emphasis on girls who have gone "too far" and need to have their purity redeemed. There's maybe a chapter that considers that aspect of purity, but it's mostly about preserving the sexual purity that chaste little Christian girls already have. On the flipside, this makes the "paper plates" feel as if it's hopelessly useless to try to ever become a "porcelain plate."

So Laura wants to write a book that addresses the paper plates. Her setup is going to be personal stories of girls who have gone through various traumatic events and who have struggled with redeeming their purity. (God knows I'm still struggling with it, but I'm feeling like I might be learning that their is a "second chance.") I'm excited to see how the book unfolds. It's going to touch girls, I know it.

splendid

There's a bush on campus that I've had my eye on for about two weeks now. It's at a junction between the dorms, the library, and the student center. There's nothing particularly attractive about this bush. It doesn't draw much attention, it's just there. It's a pretty green, healthy and full.

Recently, we've been having monsoon-like rainstorms, and in the midst of this rain, this bush began to put forth blossoms. I'm not sure what type of bush it is, but the flowers are white, multi-petaled, with yellow pollenated centers. Throughout the harsh winds and rainfall, these blossoms have endured.

Now that they're reaching the natural end of their cycle, they're beginning to fade a little, and there are white petals scattered around the base of the bush. Surprisingly, none of the flowers appear to be dying, nor are the petals on the wet pavement bruised.

I really am breathless whenever I see this bush. It confounds the mind.

Today, as I was walking by on the way back to work, I passed the bush. It was pouring rain and cataracts were gushing down the hill by the library. Armed with umbrella, I was braving the gusts of wind, hoping that I wouldn't suddenly become aerodynamic.

As I walked by the bush, a sudden, darting movement caught my eye. To my wonder, I observed a hummingbird flitting from blossom to blossom. I don't believe I've ever seen a hummingbird in the state of Washington, let alone during the month of November in the midst of a rainstorm! Astonished, I laughed out loud to myself, amazed at the beauty this unnoticed shrub has bestowed upon my life.

Now here is where I'm going to wax English major. The symbolism of this bush and bird has been so personal. (A God love note...?) First of all, purity is associated with white, and flowers are associated with women. The bush's endurance throughout the storms represents the unfathomable, hidden strength that women have. When they are battered, they still bloom and bring beauty to the world around them. The hummingbird? I don't have symbolism for it yet, except that it was gorgeous. Nice touch, God! ;)

YouTube break!

I'm almost done with my paper for lit crit, but I then have to do the READING also assigned for the same class period. (So this is what being in college is like...note to self: after graduating, don't come back.)

But some lighthearted humor for you all to enjoy. Made ME laugh! ;)

dedication

I just took a "study break" to go to the main lounge and obtain a beverage from the vending machines. While there, I noticed one of our Japanese exchange students doing her homework. She had papers spread out across the table and an electronic translator open. Meticulous, she was slowly going through every part of her homework. Now that, my friends, is what we like to call "dedication."

That sparked my thought processes into considering language learning. A plethora of thoughts, all related and yet unconnected, flooded through my grey matter and caused me to figuratively selah. What must it be like for one of our exchange students to come here, not be fully fluent in English, and then be expected to perform at a college level as if they'd been speaking English since birth? I wouldn't have the courage to do that. Even if I were to attend a French university--a language in which I am semi-fluent--I would have a very hard time applying myself. And English and French are way more similar than English and Chinese. At least we use the same alphabet, right?

I've been thinking about language acquisition a lot recently. Part of it is considering the future. I'm going to be a missionary, don't know where, but wherever that is, I'll probably be learning another language. Part of me is thinking that I don't have it in me to learn another language, especially a non-European language. Asian languages which rely heavily on tones? Yeah...mildly terrifying and VERY intimidating to tackle one of those. This could be a problem...

*blush*

I have a cherry stain spreading across my face right now. I said something without thinking it through very well--again--and I had a mini-audience to say it to. Erin Lyn called my roommate randomly--yay, Erin!--and Nikki put her on speaker phone.

A large part of the conversation was spent threatening Nikki and me for not keeping the rules of the room--she used to live in our room a year back. Anyhow, it was all joking and fun goodness--and she's visiting tomorrow--and it reminded me of how our floor used to be when all the "old" people were still here. I'm now the person on the floor who's been here the longest. Wow. This is my fourth semester here!

During the course of the conversation, Erin cited Backstage Cafe, a performance that she and I were both a part of. Ah, the memories! ;) (That occurred at the same time that I met Ty's mom and sister, by the way. Awkward performing in front of people you've just met that you want to make a good impression on.) As a result of that production, two of the cast members started dating. (Isn't that always the case?) Erin mentioned that now they only want to hang out with each other and don't hang out with other people.

This, in turn, prompted her to declare, and she was still on speaker phone, "Screw all boys! Except for Tyler..." (As in "my" Tyler. :) ) Without thinking too long about it, I immediately came out with, "But he's the only boy I want to screw!" Hence, the crimson shade.

I CAN'T BELIEVE I SAID THAT! O_O

Some people might call it a Freudian slip. I call it a disconnect from my brain to my mouth. In fact, I don't remember saying it at all. I think the other girls in the room told me that I'd said it once I came to from shock-induced unconsciousness.

jekyll and hyde

Gabcast! Quesse Lome blog #3 - jekyll and hyde

Lorna Dee Cervantes

I keep having a love/hate relationship with my classes this semester. I'm being pushed a lot, and let's face the music, who likes getting pushed, right? In the long run, I'm going to love that I've been pushed this semester, but I'm currently somewhat annoyed in it. Not so annoyed that I can't be grateful for it at the same time, however.

But this is not why I'm blogging. In women writers, we're reading some very different authors from different time periods and cultures, and this one poet I just finished reading is Mexican/Native American, born in California. As usual, I'm amazed at the poetry that we've read. So here goes:

Y Volver*
Lorna Dee Cervantes

Who is to say Love
with her battered face
won't come? Who's to know
she won't rise and run
her comb through clotted
hair and spray the scent
of mysterious apples
between her breasts?

She rises with the strength
of seeds and the rule of roots
riddling the sidewalk.
She is the hag who cries
for hours in the mewing
of lovers. She's the catch
in their sweaty breath,
the blush of rose wine
on the magnolia in winter.

She is her best in ice
when her swelling abides
and small mirrors litter
the lawns. She is the face
you casually scuff through
in the refuse of a storm.
She can't ever hear you
but she sings. She feeds

the blooming magpie
death until he's bloated
with the feast of her
leaving. She is the dried
blood gracing his wings.
Vengeful and forgiving,
her honor weighs in a few
blown stars, in the halo
that lingers in the west
when the launched nightship

explodes, in the one lie
she espouses in her heat,
the beat between her thighs,
the veldt** where she holds
you when you mean to go
free. Love, in her candor,
can't explain the attraction
but nuzzles the wild
horse's mane, and rides.

*And to come back (Spanish)
**Grassland of southern Africa

why am I still up? why? why?

I'll tell you why! Because I had the world's worst headache--at least for awhile--and that just about killed me a few hours ago, but then once it passed, I couldn't fall asleep. I was practically asleep, but then my head hurt horribly, and the muscles in my neck and face felt like they were constricting--even though they were relaxed--and there was pain. Lots of pain. I felt like I'd been dealt a thorough fonging...

Also, on a side note, I should never have downloaded "jewel quest" to my phone. It's addicting enough online...why did I allow myself a portable version?!

So now I'm awake, and I had a darn good thing I was going to say, but that thought has obviously passed and I am now reduced to rambling thoughts yet again. One day I'll get this blogging thing down and my readers will flock to me like monkeys to mango trees. (Aha! My memory is triggered.)

What I was going to say forever ago had to do with Chad, as I will be returning there in about a month. I'm so excited to be going home! YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY! :) Unfortunately, what triggered my memory about returning to Chad is not particularly pleasant. I was visiting the Chad News Page and discovered an interesting tidbit about recent occurrences in Chad. The government imposed a national curfew from dusk till dawn--roughly 6pm to 6am. Typically, curfews don't bode well.

Other times that curfews--and their like--have been applied have been when people like Muammar Qadhafi visit. Of course, when I say "visit," I mean "driving across the desert from the north with a military entourage full of helicopters and tanks in order to potentially muscle his way into Chadian affairs, particularly to gain control of the Tibesti mountains which, by the way, are full of minerals like uranium." Ahem. I apologize for my fingers running away with me. Occasionally, my bitterness towards world affairs--in particular PSYCHOTIC DICTATORS--shows through my typically pleasant exterior.

But that's in the past--Qadhafi, anyway. The curfew thing, well, it could be good or bad. I'm a little concerned with the punishment for civilians found outdoors after dark. What's the government planning on doing to them? Are they going to "disappear?" (That's happened before too...usually with those who have disappeared reappearing in the river.) Is this meant as a safety measure for the civilians, in order to protect them from the rebels?

I feel like such a hippy, but so often I wonder why we can't all get along. I mean, really, people. No one person is better than another. No one tribe/ethnicity/nationality/etc is that much better than another. So can we please stop killing each other?

audioblog

Gabcast! Quesse Lome blog #2 - ferry ride

just great

Today is starting off brilliantly. Already, I've ended up skipping chapel-- :( --and crying on a phone call to my parents. Why? Why? Granted, I'm fully to blame for all of that, but that's certainly no comfort. I can't blame anyone else for this, even though I would like to say "j'accuse!" to the unhelpful travel agent I used, but it is fully my fault for overlooking these details concerning my final and my flight.

Let me use a Thanksgiving analogy to better describe where I'm at right now. Y'know at Thanksgiving, you're loading up your plate, and you put on all the favorites, and you're starting to run out of room on your plate--and in your stomach--and you know you need to stop adding things, but hey, Thanksgiving only comes once a year, right? So you keep adding. And then you get passed the dishes that your vegan aunt brought. You can't pass it on, because she would be mortally wounded, but you really don't want to partake of tofurkey and organic dandelion greens.

However, you add the revolting, required servings of tofurkey AND organic dandelion greens to your plate. By now, if someone bumps the table, your plate of food is going to splatter everywhere like a jenga tower. (Okay, that's pushing the analogy envelope maybe too far.) So even though there's all this great food on your plate that you would gladly consume, even though it's way too much, you also need to eat the gross stuff too. And then you know that you're not going to get it all down, but you know that that crazy aunt is going to have a cow if you don't eat her dishes. So what do you do? You eat the gross stuff and end up passing on some of the good stuff.

Moral of the story: figure out scheduling to avoid unwanted tofurkey consumption.

phooey

I think I have done something horribly, horribly wrong. I fly out for Chad at 12:40pm Friday the 15th of December. I have a final exam scheduled from 10:30-12:30 that day. The exam? A workshop of our final papers. Here is where I am mentally beating myself up and trying to get up the guts to approach prof of said class and beg for her grace--again--and hope that she does not slit my throat then and there.

Oh God, be with me!

psychotic

Okay, so I'm not fully insane, but I sure have some unfortunate coping mechanisms. In counseling this morning--that was soooo loooooong agooooo and now I'm exhausted--that's the only thing my counselor and I discussed. At my previous session, she gave me a coping test to have me fill out and send back to her.

It was very interesting because we discussed the five basic mechanisms that were presented in the test, and she made sure I understood what the five were. Then she had me self score myself, to see where I came out. Oddly enough, how I scored myself was opposite of what I scored on the actual test. Interesting...I don't know anything--even myself!

So that was both enlightening and discouraging. It's good to understand who I really am, how I act in situations, but it's still disheartening because it's not who I want to be. Aye, there's the rub! I guess that's human nature though. We always want to be what we're not and we despise who we truly are. I just never thought I would be that mundane. Shoot that fantasy out of the sky...

One thing that was addressed in the session was how I don't cry. The first time I met with this counselor, I started crying, but stifled it back as best I could. I did the same thing this time through and when I managed to keep from crying, she pushed there and asked me about it, where I got the idea that it's bad to cry. I don't know where this mentality came from, but I've always felt that tears are a weakness or a wasted effort of some kind. And I especially don't like crying in front of people...it took a very long time for me to feel comfortable enough around Tyler to let that guard down.

I still mask it sometimes, but I've bawled my eyes out on his shoulder--well, more like his arm--and he's still been there, no matter how hideous I've looked afterwards. Wow...he's really not shallow. *sarcasm* He's just about the least superficial guy that I know, which is such a blessing. When he says something, he means it. It's just taking me a little longer to pick up on that facet of his character than most--that's a trust thing carrying over from the past.

But back to my counselor. God has truly blessed me by getting the two of us in contact. She knows what she's doing, and I can tell that she counsels hand-in-hand with the Spirit. I know that she's experienced, but even the most astute people-readers wouldn't know how to push and how hard to pursue an area the way she has without being led by the Holy Spirit.

Gabcast! Quesse Lome blog #1 - attempt #2

woo!

God's love comes in many forms. It is currently presented in the form of a sandwich made with home-canned salmon. Mmmm...j'en salive! :)

Really, God has been so faithful to me this semester. Tonight at Pursuit it hit me all over again how amazing He is, how faithful and how gracious. He's given so much and yet He keeps giving. Wow. WOW.

I'm supposed to be reading Mikhail Bakhtin for lit crit, so I should get back to that. But I wanted to put in a random plug for God. He is AWESOME

fear

[More info on Sarah Kelly. (Because I couldn't not look into her more...) ]

I'm currently listening to the song "Out of Reach" by Sarah Kelly. Okay, I admit, I'm practically an addict right now for her music. This album is so good! I think I like it because it's genuine, and that's a relief in this world, especially in relation to the material discussed. So many topics are taboo--and they are usually the ones that need to be brought into the light more.

So all of this...boils down to the topic I originally wanted to blog about. Said topic is that of my counseling appointment Thursday morning. It's my second time to see this one counselor, and I'm halfway dreading it. I think she's amazing, and I am blessed to have found her, but I'm still scared. I think I'm scared because I know that sessions aren't going to be wishy washy. It's going to be good, but it doesn't make it something I'm looking forward to.

The thing about the concert last night, this album--it's all given me a renewed interest in pursuing counseling. I'm beginning to feel like there can be an end. I don't see it yet, but I'm starting to believe that it exists.

At the same time, I'm still intimidated. Now that I've addressed it and pursued closure/healing/what have you as much as I have, and I'm neck deep in all of this, I can't pretend like it didn't happen anymore. I can't go back. I have to go forward--otherwise, I'll drown in the mire. I'm not as terrified of progress as I used to be, but it's only just held at bay.

So if you are reading this, please pray for me as well as those who are going through the same experiences.

of note

I went to a concert at Overlake tonight. (Tyler let me tag along ) Performing were Roby Duke, Sarah Kelly, and Chris Tomlin. Desperation Band was supposed to be there--instead of Roby Duke--but because of recent events, they felt it better to stay home.

It's funny how God uses the things we don't expect Him to.

I haven't been a huge Sarah Kelly fan. I've admired her music, enjoyed her songs, but my opinion of her really changed tonight. Part of it is that I can relate to her story. Part of it is that God used her music to relate to me. Usually I don't cry over songs when I hear them for the first time.

The song that's currently on my profile is the one that she sang that really spoke to me. The message is one that I've been slowly grasping this semester. The past is there, it's not a pretty one, but hope and life are ahead. I can stop focusing on what happened. I can see God ahead of me--and in me--and move forward in Him towards life.

Another thing: each of the three artists performed a version of "Amazing Grace." Chris Tomlin has some neat circumstances behind why he sang it. There's a film coming out in Feb '07 about William Wilberforce--a primary activist in leading the abolitionist movement way back in the day. If you know the story behind the song "Amazing Grace," you know that John Newton--the author--had been a slave trader--tie in with abolition--before his conversion.

These details lead up to Tomlin's involvement in the project. He was asked to add to the song. In telling the story, he said, "That's like asking me to add to the book of John. [...] I think the song has done well enough on its own!" However, in researching the song, he discovered the original ending verse--which he added back in--and made a big connection about how God has set us free and that there is no condemnation in Christ--something else that I've been learning this semester.

I'm glad God uses all our circumstances to get our attention and remind us of who we are. He is so awesome!

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, Who called me here below,
Will be forever mine.

[update]


More on Sarah Kelly:
(from her website)

Many of the tracks on Where The Past Meets Today were inspired by some very difficult experiences for Sarah, experiences which she had to confront in the process of creation of these songs. "Out of Reach," one of the focal tracks, was born out of a live show that ended with an amazing twist.

Sarah was performing with her band at a city festival in the midwest for a mixed audience of college students and young adults in 2005, one year after the release of her debut album Take Me Away. It seemed to be a normal show as she sang her songs, but something was restless inside of her. Then, in the middle of her set she stopped the show. Gripped by heavy emotions, she began to share the story behind this new song. As she spoke she reached down to her journal, which was lying next to her onstage, and ripped a page out of it. Sarah then began to read her most secret, haunting moments to the crowd. It was the first time she would ever acknowledge her abusive past to the public. Not one single person uttered a sound as she continued to tell her story. Moments passed. Her band just stood there in silence, not knowing what to do. When she had finished speaking, she asked the crowd one question: "Is there anyone out there who has experienced these things as well?"

Over twenty young ladies began walking forward to the stage independently of one another, and several men as well. She didn't give an altar call to prompt them, and she didn't even preach. They just came. The entire place was paralyzed, still. Instead of leading into a song, she went down to the crowd, praying with each and every one of them, asking God to heal their wounds. She ended her show at that point and did not play another song. It was the single most powerful ministry experience she has ever had before or since. She confesses in the song, I never knew how good life could be. So this is peace. I'm out of reach of yesterday. Far away. And I see life, yes I see life. Ahead not behind.

"I lived in place of quiet fear for so many years, keeping silent about the cycle of abusive relationships in my life. I found that my only outlet for honesty was in music. It was the only place where I felt true joy. When I started to experience that release in the songs I wrote, played, and performed, I woke up and realized that I didn't need to live that way. Once I started being honest with myself healing and peace followed."

What words of truth and encouragement!

Firefly

Tonight Tyler and I finished watching Firefly. We started the series about two and a half weeks ago and have been watching on and off together. It's been fun. It's a great show, and for the most part, we've been watching it by ourselves, so there's been a lot of bonding time, which has been nice in respect to life. A period of catching my breath spent with someone with whom I feel comfortable.

When I watched the series through the first time, I didn't feel any particular affinity for any of the characters. I liked them all, enjoyed each portrayal, and loved every minute of the series. (Bring it back!) However, when I watched it again this time, I felt a connection to River Tam's character. (If you haven't watched the series, do it. You won't regret it!)

River's confusion about her past...she knows what happened, but doesn't fully understand all the repercussions. She's dealing with being hurt at the hands of others. She has a brother who rescues her and lovingly walks her through all the unexpected twists and turns. There are so many mental puzzle pieces that she's trying to fit together in some kind of order, and she's misunderstood by so many of those around her.

It was ironic to be rewatching the show with Tyler. Here I am, experiencing similar emotions as River, sitting next to a man who loves me and is supporting me through it all. He might not always understand what's going on in my head, but he's there to help in any way that he can. And he's offered his strength of his own volition. It's a good feeling. It's safe.

homeworking

Point one: I don't want to eat again. Ever. I ate "dinner" around midnight--the time I got back from Safeway after sequestering myself away in the library all night. That dinner is still a bad taste in my mouth in spite of brushing my teeth and tongue for about ten minutes. Also, as my stomach is still revolting against food, even the idea of consumption makes me feel queasy right now. I should've stuck with not eating dinner at all. I wasn't THAT hungry after all.

Point two: for some reason my mind starts functioning better after a certain hour. That hour is typically NOT during daylight or early evening. Or evening at all. I am truly a nightowl, or even an early bird. Granted, I'm an early bird that never goes to sleep... (But not all the time. Occasionally I'm just weird and get up at the crack of dawn to watch the sun rise.)

Point three: Skillet's newest album Comatose is the bomb diggity. (And I don't throw that term around lightly.) I've never listened to extensive Skillet, just a few songs here and there over the years, but this album is just thrilling. It contains the full spectrum of human emotion--at least all the emotions I've undergone in the past few weeks. It's real and raw. It's human--that's the best way to explain it.

Point four (connected to three): two of these songs in particular addressed situations I was in at the time I first started listening--about two weeks or so ago. Hence, this next point. Or rather, this point. But this is secondary to THE POINT. And the point of this point has to do with cutting. When I was cutting myself, I was thinking that I didn't have the "guts" to make deeper marks, etc. And that's true, to a certain extent. The thing is, it takes a lot more courage for me to resist the urge to cut than to give in. It takes a lot more strength to go on than to give up.

library thoughts

The problem with wearing headphones and listening to bouncy music in public is that I keep wanting to dance--*gasp!*--while doing my research on Amy Lowell. "Wannabe" by the SpiceGirls is not exactly grey matter-enhancing. In fact, it is more than likely that my brain is melting out my nose at this very moment.

Anyhow, some more thoughts about libraries, in particular, the library at my school. It irks me that this university can be so myopic, especially in relation to the issue of homosexuality. I don't agree with it, I don't support it, I don't think that it is a valid or acceptable lifestyle. But I'm not going to overlook a talented person's art because he or she is gay. It's like overlooking someone because he is male, or she is female, or they are Russian. (The worst of all!)

Especially in this case, I am irked because I had to beat my brains out to locate sources on Amy Lowell, in particular, anything that remarked on her sexual orientation. Since my topic concerns how her sexual preference did/did not influence her poetry, it's a little difficult to find adequate research when the university's take on homosexuality filters down into the library. Oi.

Random: I'm now "rockin'" out to Billy Joel's theme song to Oliver and Company. Hahahhaa...oh that makes me laugh. And, were I not in the library, I'd be laughing out loud. ;)

hm

Every now and then, I like to read through things I've written in the past. Going along with my newly "discovered" emo-ness...I guess this poem from a few years back fully illustrates my true nature, and how, even then, I was well on my way to where I am now.

*blink*

Moving on...

Tired
by me

I'm so tired.
Tired of the same old routine.
Tired of not doing anything.
Tired of doing too much.
I'm tired.
I feel worn out,
Like a book losing its pages along the spine.
I feel like everything inside me is falling out--
I'm too weak to hold it in anymore.
I can't keep up this facade any longer.
It's too much for one person to maintain.

update

*ahem*

The Walking Contagion still lives. However, I believe this is largely due to the fact that she did NOT drive over to PO yesterday and instead went to the doctor who prescribed antibiotics for her sinus infection. This may, in fact, bring some level of illumination to why she was feeling so crummy yesterday.

Since then, she has mostly slept and has only been awake here and there to basically eat yogurt provided by her amazing boyfriend, take medicine of varying sorts, drink Gatorade, and watch a movie. Dead Poets' Society is still as incredible as I remembered it, if not better. It made me want to race down to the gazebo on the waterfront and read poetry aloud. I mentioned this to my RA as a dorm activity, and she was actually pretty stoked about. So maybe next semester for floor "initiation" we'll do it. If not, I'm sure I can scrounge up enough English major buddies to do it! :)

Anyhow, I'm now...whoa. Am I actually...hungry? This is a bizarre sensation. Maybe I can eat something a little more solid than yogurt and Gatorade. This is a GOOD sign. Appetite is always a good sign.

Hopefully with another solid night's sleep, I'll be up to taking on the week!

Return of the Walking Contagion

I am still sick. In fact, I might be worse today than yesterday. I woke up at 1pm and wanted only to roll over and go back to sleep. I was exhausted and felt dizzy and nauseous. Eventually, I convinced myself to take a shower so that I would feel better.

Mid-shower, I started feeling crummier instead of better, and by the time I was toweling off, I knew that the inevitable had come. I spent the next few minutes leaning over the smelly dorm toilet emptying my entire digestive system of whatever bugs that may have infested it. Afterwards, I looked like death warmed over, and I was a little shaky, but I feel surprisingly better now.

That's a really good situation to find myself in because this afternoon, I need to drive over to PO and do some chores for the parental units. So...now I need to finish getting ready for the day, and hopefully I don't get sick again on the way over.

superpowers

I have been mutated into a new kind of superhero. I am now "The Walking Contagion." Please, don't scoff. I am a living, breathing, conversing plague, something akin to the Black Death. I, however, do not rely on fleas and rats to spread my illness near and far. (Hopefully, it will not take a raging fire to destroy the sickness...) I have the capabality of contaminating anyone within a five mile radius. I walk past groups of people and they spontaneously erupt in fits of sneezing. My ultimate firearm? The Loogy-Hocker 2000.

Anyway, enough of the gross-out analogy. I do feel like I am a walking plague--like I'm the person the terrorists inflicted with Anthrax and I'm unknowingly spreading it throughout the globe. Eh...I guess it happens to the best of us. My voice is getting better, although I still can't sing. It can be depressing to watch your choir sing while you sit and try to hum along, only to have your range downsized drastically. *sigh*

Tonight I watched some more Firefly with Tyler. It's so nice to be able to go to his place to relax and not feel any pressure to be anything but myself. Plus, I feel safe around him. Don't get me wrong; I don't walk around in a paranoid state all the time. I feel safe around a lot of people, but with him it's a special kind of safe, void of any pretence. It's a good feeling.

relief

It's always such a relief when important talks go over smoothly...and even better than one had hoped or imagined. Despite my insanely horrid cold and the fact that I sound like a sped-up frog, I do believe that I shall sleep well tonight. So I'm going. :)

poem

In Mind
by Denise Levertov

There's in my mind a woman
of innocence, unadorned but

fair-featured, and smelling of
apples or grass. She wears

a utopian smock or shift, her hair
is light brown and smooth, and she

is kind and very clean without
ostentation--
but she has
no imagination.
And there's a
turbulent moon-ridden girl

or old woman, or both,
dressed in opals and rags, feathers

and torn taffeta,
who knows strange songs--

but she is not kind.





I'm not sure what to make of this poem, but it is very striking. Thoughts?


EDIT: It finally clicked in class today! ;)