lyrics posting mood

Whisper of Angels
Amici Forever

I was yours before the first morn broke
Before the sun that woke the earth
And I was yours before rain kissed the ground
Before the first dawn's sound was heard

I'll be the whisper of angels
And I'll be the frost on your glass
And I'll be the shadows at twilight
I'll be your first your last

I'm the rush-the fire in your veins
Across the desert plains I ride
I'm the ache the sound that midnight makes
A streak of star across the sky

I'll be the whisper of angels
And I'll be the frost on your glass
And I'll be the shadows at twilight
I'll be your first your last

a bit nervous to post this, but...whatever, it's honest

After a lot of discussion with several friends over the weekend, I have deduced the following about myself:

My lack of forgiveness stems from the fact that I am a furious, passionate woman who loves too easily and hurts too deeply—a woman with an overdeveloped sense of justice. Also, I am attracted to arrogant, slutty, and cowardly “men.” This is such a problem. My attractions are my downfall in relationships. (I am so doomed.)

Also, I learned that I need to able to accept the feelings that I have had in past relationships all the while realizing that those feelings were “wrong.” Clearly, they were wrong or else I would be in a non-single state. Fortunately, those feelings were wrong because I actually happen to enjoy being single right now. I just wish I didn’t have to deal with relationship hangover. Emotional vomit smells for everyone involved, is a pain to clean up, and inevitably some residue will remain.

Where does this leave me? Well, I still don’t want to forgive. I also think that the scales have been removed from my eyes. They say that love is blind, and at least the feeling of being in love renders one’s eyes senseless. I have received a lot of clarity in the last few months in regards to a certain young fellow of my former acquaintance. Once we FINALLY established the end of everything possible between us, I have actually seen him for who he is instead of who I thought he was.

He is an arrogant, spineless jerk—somewhat promiscuous in nature—and I pity his insecurity. I pity him, yet I want to tear his throat out, laughing as blood spurts from torn arteries while eyes widen and blink in surprise and confusion. Something else that I have established about myself this weekend is that I am not a pretty person deep down. As evidenced in the second to last sentence, I have a very dark, very cruel side of me that wants to be released.

Lord, help me fight my flesh, my Hyde. I cannot forgive on my own, especially when I do not want to forgive. As such, I also cannot heal on my own, because this wound will continue to fester under the healing scab as long as I refuse to let You lance off the infection.

I think I'm on to something...

I think I have decided what I want to do when I graduate.

I'm going to go to India for two weeks. Then I'll come back to the US. From there, not so positive of where I'll go exactly, but I'm strongly contemplating returning to Miracle Ranch. I reapplied, anyway, so we'll see what comes of that. I certainly wouldn't be opposed to that. :)

In the meantime, I think if I go over to PO before heading off to camp, I can get work with a church member who owns a custodial service. I can possibly work for him until camp starts. Then I'll do camp and hopefully have time to look for work back over here in Kirkland so that when I move back over here for grad school--meep!--I'll have full time work.

That's right, I said it. GRAD SCHOOL. Grad school--me! I'm so excited about it! :D There's a new grad program at my uni called International Care and Community Development. It's right up my aisle! I want to get started on it because I don't see myself following the "traditional" role of missions, but I want to do something practical overseas and show God's love that way. He knows I'm not meant for deep theological training, etc. Well, I'm at least not that great at Bible study...

Anyway, I met with the head of the program today and got some more information on it. I'm actually pretty excited about it whereas before it was only average excitement. :) So I might be coming back to school in the fall! :D

I like this plan...

how I feel

the logistics of changing the world

(continued from previous blog)

In the midst of post graduation planning, my searches have brought me to various potential careers—ideally, ones that I may follow for the rest of my life. In this, I continue eying vocational paths with non-profit organizations focusing on humanitarian work like World Vision, Project Rescue, the Bill and Melinda Gate Foundation, and the International Justice Mission. Honestly, I find all of these organizations intimidating and overwhelming.

I do not have the experience, and I barely have the education required to apply for even the lowest job opportunities. I am not a lawyer. I do not have a decade’s worth of experience in a fast-paced, professional office. I am not an accountant, an executive officer, or a program director. I am a college student and a maid. I’m not even a fantastic maid.

So how do I change the world?

I further my education. I go to grad school, if necessary, and I make myself a student of the world. I pursue employment at agencies actively involved in solving world issues. I start wherever I can, and I do my best. I work hard, and I take the time for compassion. I listen to God, and I obey.

God…oh yeah, He fits in here too.

I should probably wipe the slate clean and start over in my conjectures. GOD is the one to change the world—not me. It is His world in the first place, and He is fully capable of binding up its wounds, wiping away its tears, and calming its bruised and worried heart. So I guess the question should be: where do I fit in to God’s master plan?

I know that God has a plan and that I have my role to play. I do not know what that is, which still presents a dilemma, but I can deal with it. Something Zain said during the Choralons service in Oregon was that God is willing to inconvenience you for awhile to make you ready. I do believe that what I am going through right now with all of the uncertainty is definitely part of that. I cried during that service, asking God to clarify anything, and coming to the point of understanding that I’m not going to understand for now. Am I ok with that? I’m not sure, but I’m at least getting there.

Augh…I can be so bipolar! One moment, I despair at never being able to impact the world; the next, I praise God for having everything in control and letting me be a part of it all. I feel so…human.

What I want to do with my life...

Current mood: distressed

I want to change the world.

When I look around me, I see oppression and depression, bondage and brokenness, with no end in sight. I know we live in a fallen world. Clearly, our condition dictates these circumstances, but I do not want to stand idly by and allow evil to overrun us.

But how do I change the world?

By May 3, I will have earned a degree in teaching English as a second language. Economically useful for non-native speakers who want to get better jobs both overseas and here in the US, this degree was my "logical" choice when I started college. Now that I reach the end of collegiate scholarship, I'm wondering if I made the right choice all along. Do all seniors experience this doubt?

I have always had a strongly developed sense of justice. When I was little, this usually resulted, for example, in questioning parental authority in regards to dessert portions betwixt my sister and me. At the same time, I was a fierce advocate for world issues. I remember, as an eight year old, wondering at unstopped genocide. If my parents could stop my sister and me from whalloping each other with Barbie dolls--true story--then couldn't someone stop the fighting between the Hutus and the Tutsis in Rwanda or the Dagomba and the Konkomba in Ghana? Surely there was an adult somewhere with enough authority to put an end to the suffering.

As I grew up, I became accustomed to world issues. Malnutrition rusted African children's hair and bloated their stomachs. Leprosy, a seemingly incurable disease, claimed more victims and made them disfigured, sidewalk beggars. Single mothers prostituted themselves to old white men to provide for their children. Religious conflict sacrificed millions on the altar of arrogant self-righteousness. Bigotry of all shapes, sizes, colors and creeds whipped and beat the chosen oppressed. All of this became "just the way the world works" in my head, and I resigned myself to the world's fate.

Even so, I couldn't shake the injustice completely. At twelve, my family visited Dachau in Germany. My very core cried out in anger at what had happened at this concentration camp. I have no verifiable connection to the Holocaust, but my mind screamed that day, full of questions. Why would someone do this? Why didn't the townspeople know about the exterminations until after the war? Why didn't the world act sooner?

Since then, I've also seen the gypsy villages in Romania full of closely packed homes constructed from miscellaneous rubbish--scraps of metal and wood discarded by others and discovered as a missing wall or part of the roof. Half clothed, underfed, rejected by Romanian society, the gypsies exist in unbearable conditions. Even so, I saw joy in weathered faces, Spirit-provoked tears, and radiant smiles filled with cavity-strewn teeth.

I have rarely seen anything more beautiful.

I have also seen the images and heard the stories of women and children caught in human trafficking. Dark photographs of imprisoned children and abandoned, dying women paired with haunting stories of betrayal and abuse obstinately plague my heart, yanking at my conscience. How can I hear their distressing stories, see their hope emptied faces, and fail to act?

So I'm going to Bombay, India, in twenty days to work with local leadership, to make a difference. But after that trip is over, what then? Do I come back to America and work a job just to make ends meet and to pay off my college debt? That seems so…pointless. I don't mean to say that making ends meet and paying off college debt aren't important, but in light of what I COULD be doing with my life, they seem so paltry. Besides, I don't want to wait to do my part in changing the world. I want to start now.

But where? And how?

And how much can one person—with the exception of Jesus of Nazareth—change the world? There is too much to be done: too many wrongs to be righted, too many corrupt systems to overthrow, too many hurts to be healed. How can I make the difference I so long to instill in my world…?

(to be continued)

mimic of Billy Collins' "Litany"

the original (which is actually a sort of mimic)

Litany
Billy Collins

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine...
-Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.


Mimic
Bethany S***

You are the cheese and the fork,
the ceramic mug and the mead.
You are the velvet on the evening jasmine
and the singing voice of the wind.
You are the red lips of the gypsy,
and the skittish deer quietly in sight.

However, you are not the sun in the leaves,
the asters on the meadow,
or the web of gossamer.
And you are certainly not the sea-salted shore.
There is just no way that you are the sea-salted shore.

It is possible that you are the mouse under the floorboard,
maybe even the rose on the dandy’s lapel,
but you are not even close
to being the coo of doves at sunrise.

And a slow dance in the moonlight will show
that you are neither the fireflies in the air
nor the cricket alive in its song.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the taste of persimmons on the tongue.

I also happen to be the laughing rain,
the copper pots hanging on a hook
and the bottle of milk on the front step.

I am also the soup in the bowl
and the hungry man’s appetite.
But don’t worry, I’m not the cheese and the fork.
You are still the cheese and the fork.
You will always be the cheese and the fork,
Not to mention the ceramic mug and—somehow—the mead.

broken promises

Why are broken promises so much more hurtful than cruel, angry words spewed without a thought? I think that's the crux of the issue that I was trying to get at earlier today as I wrote in my journal in chapel. [I'm usually much better at praying when I write out my thoughts to God. They're less formal and better connected.]

What I was getting at earlier was that I find it much easier to forgive hateful words when someone says something mean to me--an insult or a low blow in an argument or just a thoughtless, hurtful comment--because often they say things in the heat of passion and don't really mean it. Either that, or they are simply reacting emotionally and not logically, so I can mentally excuse their behavior.

However, if someone says that s/he will do something, promising heart/body/soul to the endeavor, and then, oh, change his/her mind about it, I feel completely shattered and I strongly question his/her integrity as a human being. Why did s/he promise this if s/he did not intend to defend this stance?

Please, please, PLEASE. If you are going to make a promise between yourself and another human being, have the courtesy to consider it purposefully before saying it. NEVER make a promise unless you are genuinely and authentically purposing to maintain this promise ad infinitim.

locked in and overheating (reposted from myspace, so bear with any non sequitur references)

In case you haven’t noticed the new profile pic, I would like to point out that once more, my hairstyle has changed. This time--one week after the new bangs--I now have dreads. *sigh* My happiness is complete. :) A year ago, I was thinking of getting dreads but opted not to get the style since I didn’t think it very "professional." Now, being quite the character in the play, I end up with dreads for a week. :)

I sent my sis a pic of the new dreads this morning, and she responded with, "Have fun detangling that mess!" I quite agree. I’m not keeping them past Saturday night--our last performance--because I really can’t commit to the style at this point in my life--not with work and Choralons anyway. :) It took Meghan five hours to dread my hair so I wonder how long it will take to UNdread them...



In the meantime, I have discovered that people have a very wide reaction to dreads on campus. Some people think they’re cool, others don’t quite know what to make of them, and still others don’t actually recognize me. I think one of the best reactions came from Brenda when I walked into Choralons. She just laughed and laughed and finally asked me if it was for the play. (Yes.) Afterwards, I told her that I was undoing them Saturday night so that I won’t have them during Choralons. I think that’s fair.

Random side note: because of the wax in my hair, if I’m not careful, it looks like I have massive dandruff problems. Also, dreads are very warm and keep my head a bit hot. Plus, I want to wash my hair... Saturday night is the next time that I’ll be washing my head. The things I do for theatre... ;)

Another note: I am amazed by how much the NU community has backed this production. We were able to perform a "teaser" at Pursuit last Monday and this week in chapel, the prayer focus is on the drama department. When Jordan Skolrud prayed for us in chapel, he asked for sold out performances and for maintained energy and strength throughout the run of the show. Wow. This is just amazing, guys! :) I’m getting really excited about opening night. (The nerves just haven’t really hit yet!)

Look soon for new pics of the dreads...



The Dread Pirate Roberts? Oh, I SO went there... ;)

Evening 08

As always, I went back and forth on whether or not I was excited to go to Evening this year. Finally, after deciding on an idea of how to dress and who to go with--the cast!--I started getting super psyched about it.

Last night was a blast. There’s no other way to describe it! We all potlucked and had the most amazing meal--beef stew, soda bread, cheese, fruit, vegetable platter. I’m so glad that we ended up potlucking instead of going out to eat. Meghoney’s is so much better than going to a restaurant with ridiculous waits, servers, and prices. It was cozy and fun and definitely got the ball rolling.

Ironically, pretty much the entire cast dressed in some form of costume. You can tell we’re actors! Ryan, Jenni, and Puck all dressed in their costumes for the play, and they looked stunning. Randall and Nate looked like Paul Newman and Robert Redford from "The Sting." Meghan turned up looking like Marilyn Monroe. Nikolina looked like a modernized Audrey Hepburn. Marfa dressed like Eowyn. And me? According to Debbie Pope, I looked like Dorothy with a little something wicked thrown in. I was going for Bettie Page, so that’s a pretty apt description in my book. :)

Taking two separate cars, we ended up parking in all areas of Seattle--at least it felt like it--with a significant walk for our car to get to the EMP. ("Where’s the Space Needle...?" "Over there!") I tell you what, walking in rain over pavement in four inch stilettos with a not very warm trenchcoat on is not exactly blissful, but I did feel the part of a 1940s/1950s gal making her way to the USO. (My grandma would be proud! ;) ) We definitely got some looks while we walked, but it was still fun and we were all in high spirits regardless of weather and distance.



At the EMP, we were all pretty grateful that there was a coat check, with the exception of Ryan who had to check his PLASTIC sword. (Overheard security guard into his walkie talkie: "Are you going to let the angel and the knight in?") Yes, apparently Jenni was dressed as an angel and not as Titania, queen of the faeries. Pretty much Ryan has a hit list out on the security guards now. :)

One of my favorite parts of Evening was seeing how gorgeous everyone looked. I mean, beyond our group, people were pretty beautiful. (My girls looked the hottest of all!) Also, I get this funny kick about how all the insecure girls glare at all the other girls who are confidently beautiful without looking skanky. (What a concept...) Seriously though, there is a group of girls who, everytime I pass them on campus, give me these evil looks--and I REALLY have no idea why--so it made me laugh inwardly when they glared at me at Evening. Why? Not sure...

Got several compliments, which was nice, of course, but what was also nice was that I felt confident enough to accept them. That’s pretty rare for me, and I was in rare form, feeling confident and independent and loving the fact that I was dateless. (Have a boy around? Geez...why would I want to be tied down?)

Meghan and I found a space chair and sat for awhile, enjoying the quiet alcove. For intraverts like us, the quietness was much appreciated! In fact, we kept walking around the EMP looking specifically for places to sit down. We were both wearing intense heels, so any reprieve on our feet was much appreciated.



Karisma managed to get the yearbook dedicated to Debbie Pope, for which we say, "woot!" It’s about time the school honored her! Too bad it took her leaving to get that done. She’ll be missed by many, especially all upper level profs who will discover that none of their students can write after she leaves.



After Evening, our group reconvened at Meghoney’s for dessert and a movie. Puck was broken and ridiculously goofy and hilarious, and the rest of us were in varying states of silliness/exhaustion. As fun as it was to dress up and go out on the town, per se, it was just as much fun to put on pjs and sweatshirts, take off the makeup, and chillax with such great people.