my thoughts' coffeeflet

so...

2008-08-27T01:32:00.000-07:00

I know that I said I was closing this blog, but I couldn't resist and reopened a new one here. It's a different blog, but there's still a connection--ME. It's just me at a different phase in life. :)

End of a Chapter

2008-07-21T10:03:00.000-07:00

This blog has suited me just fine over the last couple of years, but as I have a VERY tiny circle of readers, I have decided to stop posting at this location. Thank you for faithfully reading and never posting comments. ;) If you are absolutely DESPARATE to keep up with the personal details of my life, my revelations, and my self-deprecating sense of humor, leave a comment, and I may end up re-directing you.

Peace out, homeslices!

~Quesse Lome

open letters (with optional ninja skillz attached)

2008-07-11T11:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Supermodels the world over,

I no longer envy you. In fact, I would never want to be one of you except for the super exotic locations you are able to travel to and the super amazing wacky creations you get to wear, all while looking super cool. (In a supermodel's world, everything is super, right?) The only thing I ended up with from a recent photoshoot was a pounding migraine. Ok, and there was Daniel's Broiler for dinner and the opportunity to be catcalled by passing acquaintances... Still, I leave the modeling up to you. After all, you're super qualified.

Sincerely,
NU's newest poster gal

Dear Potential Employers,

Please give me an answer. I want to put myself to use in YOUR workplace. Will you give me a chance?

Thanks,
Potential Employee

Dear Half-Filled Jar of Peanut Butter,

Whatever possessed you to fly across the kitchen and hit me in the head? Why did you think that I would catch you? I was concentrating on my ninja skills with a pot lid and a dishtowel, and you completely threw off my groove. Although I appreciate your attempt at helping me train, please reconsider your plan of action the next time you decide to launch yourself at me.

Painfully,
the Wincing Ninja

Dear Bag of Frozen Peas and Carrots,

Thank you for helping me out after the PB attacked. If it wasn't for your frozen goodness, the swelling would not have gone down as readily.

Gratefully,
the Relieved Ninja

Dear Person Who Shall Not be Named,

Although I do not quite equate you to Lord Voldemort, I still feel like Harry whenever you might be around. I keenly sense your presence, and you freak me out. One day, we shall meet and one of us shall destroy the other. Or maybe I just have an overactive imagination...

Sincerely,
"Harriet Potter"

Dear Former Bosses of my Sister and Brother-in-Law,

I have held off on addressing you for long enough. I believe my indignation and fury has cooled a bit over the past few weeks, but the facts still remain: you should be ashamed of yourselves.

Although you're both of Canadian descent, I don't think that gives you the excuse of being ignorant of how the free world works. Treating my siblings like Guatemalan refugees in order to have a nanny for your son is not how things work here. Maybe in Canada indentured servanthood still exists, but not here.

Furthermore, I think you may all have been able to patch things up had you not suggested to my sister that she divorce her husband in order to remain as your live-in nanny. Excuse me, but I think marriage is more important to my sister than her job.

Disgruntled,
the Sibling

successful

2008-07-09T13:25:00.000-07:00

The thing about success is that it is in the eye of the beholder. A small business owner in Lebanon, South Dakota, feels successful when her hometown baker manages to stay afloat. Donald Trump feels successful when he manages to secure a good 25% of the US in new real estate purchases. A local high schooler feels successful when he nails his audition and winds up on the community theatre stage. Meg Ryan feels successful when she puts out a film that does not stem from the romantic comedy genre all while claiming her much deserved, long awaited Oscar.

Some people want wealth and worldly success, but I'm not one of them. I want to make enough money to get by comfortably, to pay off my school debt, to have free time to recharge with friends, and to enjoy this next stage in life. Then, when this phase ends, I'll be ready to move overseas, to give up American materialism, and do something truly meaningful in my life. A full-time career that takes me to the top? No thanks! The only full-time career I'm interested in is living my life for God and for others. The only "to the top" experience I want is to get to heaven when I die and to hear my Father say, "Well done."

phew

2008-07-08T13:04:00.000-07:00

I, Quesse Lome, missionary kid extraordinaire, global travel expert with a forte in cross-cultural communications, interviewed at Microsoft today. Yes, yes, I did. What's more is that I think they liked me. (Apparently, my background in residence assistance helped out!) The only problem is that the position doesn't start until August 5... :-S

So, at the end of the interviews (there were two, back to back), I was asked [PASSIVE VOICE] if there would be a problem with that start date. I admitted that, yes, I would prefer to start work sooner than a month in the future, and that it was disappointing that they didn't start sooner. Honestly, I think I would love working there. The position sounds great--a lot like stuff that I did in the bookstore at my university--and I really enjoyed the atmosphere at Microsoft.

However, once I mentioned that to the second interviewer, she said (roughly), "Person to person, if it's unrealistic for you to wait for this position and something else comes up that works for you better, we won't have any hard feelings if you can't follow through with us. No burned bridges here. If, in the future, you'd like to reapply with us, that would be fine too."

SO...I feel like I can accurately deduce that they liked me. I certainly didn't get any "WE HATE YOU" vibes from anyone there, although I wasn't all that impressed with the two young receptionists. (They seemed a BIT unprofessional.) Even so, I'm glad that those interviews are over, especially since I woke up this morning with a pretty intense headache that only got worse and made me suppress waves of nausea during the second interview. THAT would have gone over well... "Yeah, remember that girl that puked during her interview? ...Don't hire her..."

Anyway, I'm now more than halfway through my interviews this week, and they've all gone well so far. I feel like US Bank wants to hire me, but there's still a few days before I know for sure. The interview went well yesterday, and I really like the guys who would be my managers at the bank. Very nice guys. I already know Ryan, and I like the idea of being a bank teller. I think it's the kind of work that would mesh very well with me. We'll see on that front...

I also had an interview at the NU library yesterday, and I think it went ok. It's a little harder to tell when you know the people already! I don't think I'm quite as prepared for that position as I originally thought I was, and they won't be able to give me a firm answer for a couple of weeks more, so I'm leaning away from the library at this point, although they give better pay than the bank. Hmmm...

On another note, I ran into the school photographer yesterday at NU, and he wants to do a photoshoot of me and Khan for some of the different publications. So tomorrow, we're heading off to Pike Place Market and then the ferry and then wherever else we might need to go. Merlin's buying food and stuff tomorrow. (Sweet!) Also, he's willing to buy me other clothes for the photoshoot, but that all depends on scheduling at this point. (I wonder if I get to keep the clothes...?)

I really didn't think this week was going to be as enjoyable as it's been so far, but God is proving me wrong. Also, Maggie blessed me with a smoothie from work this afternoon on my way back from Microsoft. I tell ya what, immunity nectar must be a powerful healing elixir because I started feeling better on the drive back to the house!

all patriotic and stuff

2008-07-05T02:13:00.000-07:00

I've never been super patriotic about being American--let's face it, I grew up elsewhere--but there's something kind of wholesome about a day on which we celebrate our independence and freedom. Granted, I have no idea what it was actually like to be one of those early American colonists, but I can understand desiring freedom. After all, if we did not live in a free-ish country, I would feel, well, like this:

So freedom is one of those qualities that I greatly appreciate in America, particularly, freedom of expression. (see Fig. 1)

Fig. 1

Freedom is one of those underrated qualities that America still possesses. (Yes, yes, I know our freedoms are being gradually taken from us by the bastard politicians. So sue them litigiously.) Still, the fact that I can write that and not fear imprisonment is pretty cool. Let's face it, there are still places *coughCHADcough* where basic newspapers are banned. Doesn't matter if they're reporting the truth or vindictive lies, they won't get printed without governmental retribution.

Now, I'm not saying that America is perfect, and I'm not saying that I'm one of those crazy patriotic folks who wear American flags emblazoned on oversized tee shirts with red white and blue matching accessories. (see Fig. 2 of indoctrinated children)

Fig. 2

However, I am, even if I'm not "proud" to be an American, at least grateful for this nation. And, I will admit to needling my British and Canadian friends in high school over the holiday. My British roommate Philippa, bless her soul, put up with my bragging one day out of the year to gloat over the dirty Yankee scoundrels (her words, not mine) beating the regimentals. She might have even looked like this:

Only without the goatee...

Well, anyway, today--technically, yesterday--happened to be the 4th of July. I slept in late due to scrapbooking into the wee hours of the morning, but it was an enjoyable day. We headed down to the waterfront to a friend's place where there were tons of people, lots of good potlucked foods like "funeral potatoes"--family joke--and pea salad, and fresh seafood. When I say fresh, I mean taken from their own crab pots. There was also coffee in the boathouse.

Can I just say that I love my family and am so glad that my sister and brother-in-law just moved back from NYC? I mean, come on, who can hate people like this:

Besides, we do fabulous duck faces and impersonations...

Sad duck

Angry duck

Angelina duck

This is not a duck...

Wide-eyed innocent country duck

Magnum and Blue Steel ducks

And scared ducks.

Yeah, my family is nuts...I love them. :) Just be glad we never ended up taking our "lotus with ten petals" picture like we were thinking about doing after leaving the bbq. (Hint: it involves a reverse picture from the one of us all looking down at the camera.)

And speaking of the lotus with ten petals...so my sister had to fart at the bbq today--don't worry, I got her permission before I blogged the story--and in order to mask the sound, she sat down on a chair with a cushion. Again, don't judge; everyone farts. Even the stodgiest dowager farts--she'll just never own up to it.

So right as she's "breaking wind," someone sets off a bottle rocket in the next yard, and at first, she was all, "Good grief! Is that me?!" Later, when she recounted the story back at the house, I couldn't stop laughing. Maybe you had to be there...

Gratuitious picture of my crazy dad and me!

I think Kenn was anticipating a fire from all the rockets a little early in the evening...

Happy 4th! :)

oh so totally screwed

2008-07-02T22:23:00.000-07:00

I checked--again--the requirements for ministerial credentials through a certain denomination. I don't meet them...at all. Ok, so the basics I do meet--born again, part of a church, etc.--but I fail at the technicalities. Pretty much...I doubt that I'll ever be a licensed minister with denomination x.

Really, this probably shouldn't bother me so much, except this is the denomination my parents are fully committed to me being a part of. I tell them I'm called to missions; they tell me I should go with this mission board. I look into the "prerequisites" and find that I'm lacking; they say they'll pray harder.

Um...I don't think that's going to do all that much...

Anyway. This just underlines my theories that I won't be going out as a traditional missionary. That's ok. It's different, and I'll probably have to deal with their disappointment--well, my dad's disappointment anyway...oh heck, probably my mom's too. Yep, pretty sure I'm now a new failure to both of my parents. Oh joy.

"I wear the pants in the relationship so that he can't get into them..."

2008-07-02T09:35:00.000-07:00

[By the way, the subject line was the all-time best line I have ever heard one of my girlfriends say.]

Tonight for Shosh's birthday, a bunch of us went to Moroccan food in Seattle. In case you're ever interested in AMAZING North African food, I would recommend Marrakesh on 2nd Avenue. So tasty. :)

Afterwards, I spent quite awhile talking with Maggie and Inga and then just Inga on the way back to my place on the Peninsula. I kept thinking about everything on my own for the last thirty minutes of my drive. My conclusion from the evening of girl talk: I want to stop being used emotionally.

The other day, a friend of mine jokingly said that *shock!* I did have a heart, but that it was buried in the back yard under land mines and trip wire. I laughed, and I would agree that it appears that my heart is well-guarded from any possible interlopers, charlatans, and marauders. Fact is, I'm not very good at protecting my heart from myself.

I'm very adept at sabotaging my own emotions and willingly letting others manipulate my feelings. They might not even be trying, but somehow I end up feeling used in the end. I don't think this is very healthy behavior on my part, and I want it to stop, but when I try to think of the steps to take towards that end, my head just reels off into nothing.

So I keep building fortresses and then letting the enemy into the keep via the back door. Perhaps I should study castlemaking further.

PS. Apparently, the interview at US Bank this afternoon went well, and I will be scheduled for a second appointment later this week. Also, looks like the library will be calling me on the morrow to arrange a potential interview time as well. Furthermore, I have an interview with Microsoft for next Tuesday.

Ack!

2008-07-01T09:23:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning with a bad case of nerves. About seven hours from now, I have an interview at US Bank in downtown Kirkland. Of all the job hunting I did yesterday, this was my most solid lead. I also, technically, have an informational session that I should attend in downtown Seattle for an NPO that pays $20/hr for an entry level position and provides benefits for its full-time employees.

Silly me, I'm actually not going to that to make sure I can make it to the interview in Kirkland on time. The Seattle meeting is at 2pm, the interview in Kirkland, at 4pm. You might be wondering why I'm opting out of the one for the other. I'll tell you: if your mission statement is that you want to eradicate poverty overseas, then why the hell are you offering so much money to your employees?! We certainly don't need $20 an hour to live a decent life--give it to someone who lives on less than $1 a day.

Anyway, my nerves aren't so much because I have an interview today. I'm confident that I can present myself decently and be mostly affable. In fact, I'm really not all that worried about actually being offered the job. What I'm more worried about is being offered the job and then realizing in a few days that I'm not actually supposed to be there.

I know I'm overanalyzing, and overspiritualizing, and over--ing a lot of things, but I get weird about commitments. I'm usually shy of committing to something, but typically, once I've committed, I hate backing out, which is exactly how I would feel if I started a job and then realized shortly thereafter, that this job was not for me. Ick.

So while I was lying in bed this morning, trying to ignore the nerves so I could go back to sleep until my alarm went off, I felt all jumbled up and confused. Then I thought to myself that I wanted a tangible rock to cling to, a friend to hug me tight, to hold my hand and walk me through it, and I realized that I was ignoring my biggest Rock available. Yet my biggest frustration with the Rock of Ages is that although I know He's always with me, I can't exactly wrap my arms around Him and listen to His heartbeat and know that He is physically present with me. I know that He's with me, and He's probably shaking His head at my too little faith, maybe even sad that I don't feel His presence as tangibly as I could.

Enough thoughts for the morning! I need to get stuff accomplished, so peace to one and all, and please pray with me for this interview to go well.

how I felt for a long time

2008-06-29T06:52:00.001-07:00

Man! I feel like a woman...

2008-06-22T11:16:00.000-07:00

Totally had the best girls' night out last night. I really haven't had that in awhile, so it was nice to get out of Hicksville and back to Seattle. Also, it was nice to get out from under the ever-watchful eyes of two sets of ordained ministers--my parents and my pseudo grandparents. They're great, but it's nice to get around people my age where I can let my hair down.

Last night I met up with three of my gal pals from college at one of their homes in Seattle. From there, I drove us through a circuitous path to Ballard where we showed up early to a show at the Tractor Tavern. Like almost two hours early. So we went to sushi instead. I had seaweed salad for the first time and a couple of sips of sake. New experience. Not sure if I liked the sake, but it was ok. I'm pretty sure it could grow on me. :)

At the Tractor Tavern, I had my first experience getting carded, even though I'm turning 23 this summer. I still have remnants of the "ok" stamp on the inside of my right wrist. At the tavern, friends decided I needed to drink, even though I was the designated driver. Don't worry, they're experienced drinkers and were careful to make sure that I was still very sober by the time it came to driving.

I ended up, over the course of three hours, having two weak-ish (I was told) mixed drinks. The first, which my friend dubbed a "princess sunrise," was a Malibu with pineapple. I really liked that, actually, and wanted to drink it way faster than I did--which is probably a good idea. The second drink was a screwdriver, which grew on me as well after I got past the idea that I was drinking citrusy robitussin.

Let's see...oh yeah, the show. :) The show was great. The first performers were a local group called Anomie Belle (I think). The second performer--the reason we went--was Fink. Fink, as one of my friends put it, has a sound like sex and cigarettes--very gritty jazz. He was amazing. The third performer, well, she was good, but we were tired.

We ended up leaving around midnight and headed to 5 Point in Seattle to meet up with a photographer guy one of my friends met at the show. GOOD food there. Great waitress. Loved it!

Anyway, got back to the house at 2am, and I was so tired...unfortunately, I had coffee at 5 Point to make sure I could stay awake enough to drive "home" so I couldn't sleep for awhile. So I was lying on the couch, trying to sleep, and my heart was racing until 3am. Still, it was a GREAT night. :)

summer open letters (from June 20)

2008-06-21T11:27:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

I apologize for the cliche-laden blog I posted yesterday. I was tired and a little overwhelmed, and when I write in that condition, I produce cliches en mass(e?). I contemplated leaving it as a private entry, but then thought, what's the use? So against my better judgment, I posted it. Please forgive me. It'll probably happen again.

Apologetically,

Quesse Lome

Dear Estranged (your word, not mine) Friend,

I must admit, I was a bit surprised when you contacted me yesterday. The last time we "talked" was the day before graduation. I remember because my family was wondering why I was crying. Anyway, next time you decide to strike up a conversation with someone, would you mind making it longer than three text messages? I mean, if you really want to talk to an "estranged" (again, your word, not mine) friend, typically you talk longer than that.

Mind you, I'm actually ok that you didn't talk longer because each new text buzz I felt made me nervous all over again and that would have ruined my delightful hike yesterday. I hope the reason you stopped talking wasn't grievous, like a car accident. Here's to figuring out if it's worth salvaging our friendship.

Cheers!

The Other Estranged Friend

Dear Summer,

Oh there you are! How nice of you to finally come out and play. :) I've missed you.

Love,

Your Biggest Fan

Dear Manchester State Park,

I am incredibly sad that you were so close to me the whole time that I lived in Port Orchard, and I never tasted of your goodness before yesterday. I am more than thrilled with your multitudinous trails, your forests, your beaches, your views of Mt. Rainier, your hordes of chipmunks and robins, and your stunning palette. I plan to visit you again soon and maybe spend another two hours wandering your acreage.

Delightedly yours,

Nature Girl

Dear Body,

I am sorry for abusing you. You have served me well these (almost) 23 years, and I do not have the right to treat you so shamefully. You've carried me faithfully across four continents, throughout historical sites ranging from the Romans to the Post-Modern, and I should treat you better. After all, we still need to see the Amazon and the Great Barrier Reef.

Sincerely sorry,

Bethany

Dear God,

Thank you.

Love,

me

la clef (ironically, pronounced: "clay") [from June 19]

2008-06-21T11:24:00.000-07:00

The key (or "clef") that I uncovered whilst abroad centers around my willingness to sacrifice, and I am so unwilling. Verbally, I admit wanting to live my life overseas, doing what God called me to do. Inwardly, I think of all the ways that I can go about that process in the most selfish manner possible. I think the angels might cringe at that. I do.

So here I am, a living sacrifice that keeps getting up off the altar and wandering on my merry way. I want to be devoted to God, but my heart strays and the rest of me follows. I want to be molded by God, not by my own desires or the world around me. I want to be thrown down, spun around, lifted up, and held firmly and unwaveringly in the hands of the Master Potter.

Still, my prideful heart rejects the pushing and the firm hands. I lash out and say that I know what I'm doing, and I can do it on my own. I don't need Your help. When He backs off, I turn away, trying not to see the mournful gaze of rejected Love.

Finally, when I fall, helplessly tangled and hurting from further inside than I can identify, I cry. I don't even cry out for a long time, because I still think that I can manage on my own. Once the tears are dry, I will be able to see again, and I will be able to fix this mess. But when the tears are gone, I still don't see, and then, once I sacrifice my pride again, He returns to once again throw me down, spin me around, lift me up, and hold me firmly and unwaveringly in His masterful hands.

woe is me (from June 17)

2008-06-21T11:22:00.000-07:00

I feel pretty pathetic these days. I am living with pseudo grandparents in Port Orchard, which is GREAT to have a "home" to be in and my parents are here too--for now. I'm grateful for this, but I also feel like a leech because I have no job and I have no energy to look for one.

In fact, I have very little energy at all. I get at least ten hours of sleep every night, but when I wake up in the morning, I feel like I haven't slept at all. Then I'm drowsy all day until I get to bedtime at which point my head starts hurting behind/around my eyes--my signal that I need to sleep more. Or, my right ear starts ringing, which is a SURE sign that I need to go to sleep.

Also, to my chagrin, I currently weigh 20 pounds more than I did a year ago--10 pounds of which I have gained since graduation. (Being an RA added the first 10 pounds.) I would like to exercise it off because, frankly, I can't afford to buy new clothes and mine are getting tighter. However, I don't have the energy to exercise, and the last time I left the house to take a walk, I ended up with a cold. So. I'm not too inclined to get out and do that, but I'd really like to start running again. There's something so freeing about taking off through the woods or down a lonely stretch of road, which we have in spades over here.

Have I mentioned yet that I feel utterly pathetic these days?

marriage is so never going to be on my horizon (and I think I'm ok with that)

2008-06-16T02:17:00.000-07:00

I have a guy friend from college--yeah graduation!--and he and I have a pretty honest, open dialogue going between us which is kind of ironic because part of this year I hated him. Long story. Anyway, now we have witty banter most days via text and discuss any number of silly and serious subjects.

Today, for some reason that I cannot remember, we were discussing marriage, and I made a comment about how I have serious doubts--at this point in my life--that I will ever get married. He said he doubted that, and I said, "Tell that to the line of suitors at my door." The conversation continued from there with explanation and debate throughout.

I said I didn't think that I would want to endure that kind of heartache--dating--again, which pretty much rules out marriage, which is PERMANENT. (Or should be except in certain cases.) He said that there actually are a handful of decent guys in this world capable of not mauling my heart. I said I disagreed even though I do believe in miracles.

Then I added that I have very high standards--impossibly so--which brought up the point that why should I have standards for something that I don't want in the first place--marriage. Or maybe that came before the previous paragraph. I forget now.

Then I said that I didn't want to inflict myself on another guy, to which he responded that he thought I was a very nice person, even a blessing. I said that as a friend, I'm fine; in intimate relationships, not so much. I basically become a bitch. Granted, I should take into account that my only dating experiences included depression and suicidal thoughts on my part for significant portions of those relationships. Yeah...suicidal, depressed me is not a pretty sight. I become a horrible, horrible person.

And a big part of me wonders...if I ever date again, will I become depressed again? Will I lose myself? I lost myself in my first relationship and didn't really find myself again until after the last one. Funny thing, I kind of LIKE who I am when I'm not depressed. I'm sweet and confident and fun to be around and crazy and beautiful and free, and I don't think I want to mess that up again.

Shoot...I didn't mention that in the conversation earlier. Maybe I should have.

Try the vodka, Comrade!

2008-06-13T20:21:00.001-07:00

Before certain of my readers freak out about the possibility of this blog containing anecdotes about alcohol and drinking, let me assure you that there will be none. I just wanted a subject line to draw you in. Muahahaha! Also, my mother and I made borscht the other day, and I keep wanting to call people "comrade" when I offer them the leftover soup. Speaking of which, I'll eat some in a bit. That parsnip, potato, carrot, cabbage, and beet yumminess is calling my name.

Why did we make borscht? Of all the soups in the world, borscht is really one of those not quite on the radar of the average American citizen. Well, the Cosby Show influenced it inadvertently with an episode about home remedies for colds, and then my Ukrainian roots shouted out above the noise of American mass-media, and I said, "Let's make borscht." So we did.

[complete and total subject change]

Last night, I had fitful sleep sprinkled with a nightmare and other bizarre dreams. When I woke up from the nightmare, I was so scared that, if I hadn't been practically paralyzed in bed, I would have gone to my parents' room and crawled into bed with them. I was absolutely terrified and ended up praying and crying to get past the fear.

So that dream took place in Africa during a situation that I can only compare to the Hutu/Tutsi genocide in Rwanda. Mind you, I have never been to Rwanda, nor have I ever directly or indirectly witnessed genocide anywhere in the world, so I don't know where this dream came from. I didn't watch any movies recently about racial conflicts, read any books, or scan any online articles. I have NO IDEA where this dream came from.

My parents and I were in what seemed to be an African hospital room with a door that opened out onto a courtyard, then an open street with a field across it. In the hospital room, two African women were in the hospital bed, but they seemed to be in good health, but that's how dreams go, right? It's at night, and in the open field across the way is a mob of African men with torches, machetes, who knows whatever else, jumping around and shouting hate-filled slogans in their native tongue. (Again, there were no specific tribes in the dream, but I can only liken it to the Hutu/Tutsi conflict in '94.)

My parents and I are trying to evacuate, but we know that there's no way that we can leave the hospital when all of these incensed men are across the street. They'll spot us and kill us before we can get anywhere. So we're packing up a few things to take with us, and the women in the hospital bed are happy as larks, which makes no sense because I think they're the other tribe involved in the conflict.

It gets to early morning when the sky is just starting to lighten, and my dad looks out the open door of the room to where there is now nothing across from us. We--my mother and I--have just a few things left to pack, so my dad says, "They're gone," shoulders his backpack, and heads out, adding, "Good luck!" as he disappears out of sight. For the record, my dad would NEVER do this. Seriously, my dad would never leave his family in the midst of crisis, even if we were "right" behind him.

So my mom and I are grabbing our things--for some reason my mom is transferring her stuff from one purse to another--and then a German nurse comes by, peeks her head in, sees that the African women are sleeping, and says, "Well why don't we shut this door?" and effectively removes our only method of escape.

Mind you, all we have to do is open the door, but as there are no windows on that side of the room, we have no idea what could be on the other side of the door. Then a German--I don't know why German, but that was the case--doctor comes along, opens the door a bit, just enough for us to see his wizened face with glasses, a beard, a bald pate with tufts of hair flying out around his ears, and asks, "How are our patients doing today?"

Then, like in a horror movie, he slowly opens the door up wider and in the doorway behind him is a sea of hate-filled African faces just waiting. There was absolutely NO ONE outside before the doctor showed up and then all of a sudden... Anyway, then I'm on the ground behind the bed, trying to find a hiding place under it, but one of the men crouches down on the other side, sees me, and then calls me out--I don't know why I turned all cowardly and left my mom out in the open.

And then I woke up from the dream, but I'll never forget that wall of faces or the eyes of that man who saw me under the bed. I know this probably doesn't sound terrifying to you, dear readers, but it made me rethink my parents returning to Africa in July. Boo.

My other dreams I can't really remember right now, except for bits and pieces. One of the dreams included ships at sea, those ships being of the buccaneer persuasion, and the one I rode on being laden with booty. Arrr. Another dream involved a cross-country RV trip in a nice RV, not like the the dumpy one we lived in for a year back in 1995. Arrr...gh. I feel like there was something else really weird, but now I can't remember.

Anyway, my purple soup of borscht goodness calls.

I want to take this moment to say...

2008-06-08T20:16:00.000-07:00

...that I am alive. Yes, even though I feel like I am one of the walking dead, I am, in fact, living. But I'm not moving very fast, so even if I was one of the walking dead, you'd be able to outrun me no problem.

I am afflicted with the common cold, also known as a rhinovirus, and I feel like I'm suffering from ebola. Ok, not really, because my insides are staying there and not gradually melting out of every pore and/or orifice of my body. Phew! Close call there.

I mentioned to a friend today that I would rather have malaria than a cold. I would much rather be puking my guts out in a delirious state than be practically functional in the same way that a zucchini in a crisper drawer is functional. I'm not starting to mold or get squishy in spots, but I'm not exactly doing anything worthwhile either.

I went to church this morning, but I felt like a walking petri dish. I'm on a steady diet of otc cold medicine, cough drops, various fluids, and the box of Godiva chocolates my uncle sent me for graduation. Although supplies are running low, I should be able to restock when necessary, except for the Godivas, but I'm willing to sacrifice.

Since graduation, I have been gradually reading through my new stock of books--Fahrenheit 451, 1984, Water for Elephants, and now I'm on to Le Petit Prince, which I purchased at a French bookstore off Rockefeller Plaza. I'm pleasantly surprised at how easily I'm following along in the book in spite of being in a generic Dayquil induced haze.

By the way, I never realized how entirely useless I would feel with a BA.

Oh oh oh, woke up today with a headache! (from June 4)

2008-06-06T17:54:00.000-07:00

So I'm back from the east coast, and I don't know where to begin to talk about it. I had such a fun time--withholding riding, seemingly, invisibly in the backseat whilst my parents bickered. We saw all kinds of monuments and parks and memorials and shows and stuff. I say "stuff" because there's was just too much to see and all became something of a blur after awhile.

We flew to DC last Monday and set out from our hotel to the Mall to take in the monuments at night. Saw the Washington obelisk, a new memorial to WWII, and the Lincoln memorial--all of which look really cool at night. (I'll post pics eventually, don't worry.)

The next day we took in the Holocaust Memorial during the early afternoon. WWII has always been a fascinating period in world history for me, and I'm especially drawn in to the Holocaust. It might be because our family has Jewish ties or at least because my mother emphasized the tragedy to my sister and me growing up. Maybe it's because I have an overly developed sense of justice and am very sensitive. Maybe it's just because I'm human. Whatever the reason, the Holocaust always affects and intrigues me.

Now, I've been to Dachau in Germany and seen firsthand the gas chambers and the cremation ovens. I've walked between where all the barracks were. I've heard the stories from concentration camps, and I've read about the Nazis' inhumane scientific experiments, tortures, and various cruelties. I was very impressed by the Holocaust Museum/Memorial's approach to the subject at hand and how it synthesized information from before Hitler took power to after the war was over, showing step by step how his regime affected the Jews, the Roma (gypsies), homosexuals, evangelicals, Jehovah's Witnesses, Russians, Poles, mentally and physically handicapped individuals, and so on.

What I did not like about the memorial was the school groups. Teenagers--particularly ones who are incapable and/or unwilling of grasping the concept of the Holocaust--should not be taken to this museum/memorial because they did not respect the memories of the dead or the experiences of the other museum goers who were--very often--personally affected in one way or another by what they saw. However, I can only hope that one day those teenagers will be able to get a clue.

Other sights seen in Washington, DC, include: the Capitol building, the Library of Congress, the Museum of Flight, and Arlington Cemetery. I had no idea how large Arlington was. Once you're standing in one of the lots, you look as far as you can in any direction and you see rows and rows of white headstones. We went to Arlington to pay respects to a young man who used to be in my parents' youth group before they were missionaries. He was killed in Afghanistan last year.

Ok, this is a long enough blog, and I have "stuff" that I need to get done today. I'll write about the rest of the trip later. Maybe I'll throw in a blog about India again--just to mess with you, gentle reader. ;)

Badlapur, May 7, 2008, midafternoon

2008-06-06T17:52:00.000-07:00

[BLOG WRITTEN IN RETROSPECT]

The first time I saw him, I thought he was a small one year old. With medium brown skin, big brown eyes, and sitting up, Sandeep had thin arms and legs--little more than skin and bone--limply attached to a small torso. Sitting on the bottom mattress of a bunk bed in Jubilee 4--one of four homes in Badlapur where Bombay Teen Challenge houses orphans and children rescued from the streets and/or the red light district--Sandeep looked very tiny and somewhat overwhelmed at the sight of eight white people standing around and looking at him.

Then Timothy--our guide for the day--told us that Sandeep was four and a half years old.

I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around that. When I first saw him, I knew that he was undernourished, but I had no idea by how much until Timothy told us more about him. Four and a half years old, rescued from the streets the previous week, brought to Jubilee 4 just in time to save his life--all of these details silenced me into thought. My heart hurt and my head reeled.

As we got to know the other children at Jubilee 4 over the next week and a half--or so--we found out that the other children at this home ranged from Sandeep's age up to about nine or ten. Both girls and boys live at Jubilee 4, and about half of those children are HIV positive. Some of their mothers were/are prostitutes, and some of them were simply brought to BTC (Bombay Teen Challenge) because their parents had found out that they would be cared for at BTC.

Because of their health concerns, Jubilee 4 has a nurse assigned to them and every night, the children obediently go through nightly medicinal regimes. They receive good healthcare combined with a clean environment, nutritious food prepared by Daniel the cook, filtered water. Educated on site, these children also have daily devotionals where they sing, pray, and study the Bible.

These children put my faith to shame with their intensity and perseverence, but the fact of the matter is, most of these children already have seen the dark side of humanity firsthand. They know that God makes the difference in life, and their faith is rock solid. I am very excited to see how their lives continue to shape up as they grow and mature. They're going to be movers and shakers when, or if, they grow up.

Please, remember these children. They have so much promise, and they are definitely better off than they were, but the fact of the matter is that with half of them HIV positive, we really don't know how long they will live. (There are so many variables with HIV/AIDS.) They are precious, sweet children who love automatically and blessed my heart.

Amsterdam, May 6, 2008, [time...?]

2008-05-23T06:40:00.000-07:00

I just spent an unholy amount of money on a disappointingly small amount of food in Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport--the Euro equivalent to $14 on a small quiche lorraine and an iced tea drink made with sparkling water, a detail I unfortunately overlooked until after the first swallow. *gags* Still, it's probably my last taste of western food for the next two weeks, so I try to enjoy it. The quiche redeemed the "meal" even if it wasn't very filling. That's ok--they'll probably feed us twelve more times on the next 9-hour leg of our journey.

To be honest, I'm trying to be thrilled about this trip to India. When I first applied and was accepted, I was jumping for joy. FINALLY, an opportunity to physically make a difference in the fight to stop human trafficking. But that was five and a half months ago before my final semester of college, before a play production with a taxing practice schedule, before pages and pages of papers and projects and finals and oh-my-gosh-my-family-is-coming-for-graduation-so-I-need-to-find-them-housing-and-I'm-graduating! Almost needless to say, but I was so overwhelmed before heading off to India that I confessed to my sister, "Y'know, I really don't want to go on this trip now."

So here in Amsterdam, eating with the team leader (aka Shoshana), I feign excitement. Maybe forcing a positive attitude will change my attitude for real. If not, I'll fake it for the entire trip. There's no need to drag down the rest of the team when I'm just not feeling it. Not really knowing the other members of the team, I'm already out of my comfort zone, and I haven't even arrived in Mumbai yet. How very promising... All that aside, I also feel like I way overpacked which, for an mk accustomed to global travel, is a BIG deal. (At least my baggage weight tied with another team member's.)

As usual, international travel leaves me feeling very gross. I REALLY want a shower and/or a change of clothes. I'm tired and insecure, and I don't want to hop on the next flight to Mumbai. I really want to go the opposite direction, but I bite my tongue, put on a smile, and stick it out. After all, if there's anything that I've learned about missions, it's that you just have to grin and bear it. God knows what He's doing, and even if I don't like it, I should still follow along.

Badlapur, May 18, 2008, at 7am

2008-05-21T09:16:00.000-07:00

About to take my final bucket bath in India, I stand in the hot and humid "hotel" bathroom--a 3'x5' tiled room--and look at myself in the mirror. I feel very Hindi except for my height, and I am not ready to leave this place yet even though I said my goodbyes yesterday.

As I look at my face, I reach up and touch my hair, soft and silky from being massaged with coconut oil the day before--a weekly event at Ashagram (Hindi for "Village of Hope"), where I worked throughout our stay in India. My Hindi friends offered to oil my hair the last day because they were already oiling theirs--a replacement for shampoo and conditioner and a much hidden beauty secret that explains why all Indian women have gorgeous hair. Mine looks pretty darn good, and I've only had it done once.

Friday, the girls were "threading" their eyebrows and offered to do the same to the girls on our team. Of course, we all jumped at the unique opportunity and now have shapely brows of our own, thanks to Shabana--the girl with the most attitude and cheek ever with a hilarious sense of humor. Having my eyebrows reshaped makes my eyes bigger--brown eyes that earned me the compliment "You have beautiful eyes--Indian eyes" from one of the men at Bombay Teen Challenge.

I fiddle with my nose ring--another feature that brought me attention and made me look more Hindi--before admiring my recent mehendi. Mehendi, or henna designs, is a traditional form of female adornment throughout the Middle East and parts of Asia. In India, women put mehendi on hands and feet for special occasions or for any occasion when they have the time. As May is the hottest month of the year in India, the girls at Ashagram have summer vacation and all the time in the world for henna.

Reflecting back on the trip, I wonder at God's work in India. India is a tough case, but clearly not too tough for God or for His faithful followers. Meeting with our brothers and sisters at Bombay Teen Challenge proved that. I have learned a lot about faith and endurance, joy and hope, and I know that I have much yet to learn.

I have many more stories to come, but I need to continue processing. In the meantime, I need to go shopping for a pattern so I can sew the choli and petticoat to go with my sari that I bought in Badlapur.

first day of post-college graduation, last day in US

2008-05-05T00:43:00.001-07:00

It still hasn't hit me that I am done with college. I feel like commencement was a performance because it was too surreal. The people I walked with are classmates that I have known for the past few years--some are best friends; others, simply a familiar name and face. Whatever our relationship proximity, we lived in a community together, and now that community is split. That's ok. It's life, and I'm used to it. Well, okay, I'm not really used to it, but I accept it as a [sucky] part of life.

Today was filled with several trips to stores to make sure that I was adequately prepared for the trip to India tomorrow. (By now, it's technically later today...) I had to buy a pair of closed toed shoes, some plain shirts, various toiletry items, and some more memory cards for my digital camera. I have a bad feeling that I spent WAY too much money, but since my bag only came to a total of about 30 pounds (as opposed to the 50 pound allowance), I think I'm doing pretty well.

I've also been packing in the midst of trying to go to church this morning--that was a flop of an attempt--and going to work this afternoon/evening. I ended up missing the end of the year RA shindig b/c of work, which was disappointing, but it was also good to go to work and have the opportunity to really say goodbye to my coworkers. I'm going to miss them...

Everyone was congratulating me for graduating with huge smiles and eyes beaming pride. Funny how a group of immigrant workers can be seemingly more proud of me than some of my family/friends. I guess they still value the product of a college education. ;) (This is not to say that I think that my family/friends weren't excited for my graduation, but it's something else when people you see at most 12 hours a week are so profoundly ecstatic for your achievements.) I ended up with several graduation gifts, lots of hugs and handshakes, and some great food--more than enough for me with leftovers to share with my sister who packed up my room in my absence.

I also had a Mexican waiter in the hotel restaurant "plead" with me not to leave the hotel so that I could "stay right by [him]." I asked one of my coworkers if she thought he was being serious, and she said in her filipina accent, "No...he's a playboy." Ha! :)

Anyway, tomorrow I head to India. Won't be back until May 19. If you want to receive any email updates from the trip, email me at quesse.lome@gmail.com. If I ever have access to email, I'll do my best to add you to the list of recipients. In the meantime, ciao!

lyrics posting mood

2008-04-30T01:28:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-28T10:50:00.000-07:00

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...

2008-04-24T00:04:00.000-07:00

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...

2008-04-19T23:50:00.001-07:00

how I feel

2008-04-18T02:20:00.001-07:00

the logistics of changing the world

2008-04-16T01:22:00.000-07:00

(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...

2008-04-16T01:17:00.001-07:00

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"

2008-04-11T09:47:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-09T11:39:00.000-07:00

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)

2008-04-08T10:22:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-08T10:15:00.000-07:00

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.

a bit of middle English humor

2008-03-26T00:41:00.000-07:00

Sigma Tau Delta/le futur proche

2008-03-16T01:25:00.001-07:00

Earlier today was the third annual Black & White Party hosted by Sigma Tau Delta. Our baby was a success! So much fun to hang out with other English major types, eating delicious black and white food, wearing black and white garb, and laughing about everything under the sun. Delightful. :)

I had to leave a bit early--not too long after the induction ceremony of new members--and booked it back to Kirkland for work. I wasn’t late at all--praise the Lord!--but then the other turndown lady couldn’t make it tonight, so I was on my own. Surprisingly, I ended up with a lot of time on my hands, so I started brainstorming a pros/cons list for staying here in Washington/moving to California after grad and India. Oh wait...I haven’t blogged about California yet, have I...?

So on to the list:

Washington~
++friends
-[almost] no family [except for hermits and distant Mormons]
+possibly decent job market (?)
-church uncertainty (Stay at SJ? Go elsewhere? If so, where...?!)
+emotional support (from ++friends)
-pay for housing/utilities/etc. on my own (as in, not with my parents’ help)
+beautiful nature everywhere!
-certain people I could do without
+Seattle! (It’s irreplaceable in my book.)
-messy roommate (?)
+close to Canadia
-school debt will be hard to pay off with your basic job
+live w/ good friends (?)
-relatively high cost of living (seeing as I want to stay on the Eastside)

California~
+family
--no friends
+free rent (my grandma has offered to let me live with her)
-church uncertainty (I have options down there of churches that I have been to, and I like them, just...don’t know.)
+possibly decent job market (?)
-moving costs (?)
+Gimli! (my furry feline lover)
-loss of autonomy (?)
+stable support system
-shallow/superficial culture of Southern California
+GREAT weather
-Grandma could die on me and the whole family would hate me...
BUT
+then I would get both the cats...
ONLY
-then I wouldn’t have a place to live...
+the beach
+close to Mexico
+pay off loans quicker (since I wouldn’t be paying rent/utilities--or not much, anyway--I could put more of my money towards school debt)
+feel like adult (?)
-bigger cell phone bill from calling all my friends in Washington (?)
+I would KNOW my family before being gone the rest of my life doing missions!!!
-expensive cost of living

So I don’t know...I’m not really sure how this is going to play out after graduation/India. Could be that I end up in Washington. Could be that I end up in California. Could be that I move elsewhere across the country. Louisiana would be nice for a change, don’t you think? ACK! Ok, I really don’t have a clue. Feedback? Anyone?

love of my life

2008-03-11T01:59:00.000-07:00

Coffee tidbits culled from online searching in the midst of pulling an all-nighter :)

from "Ask the Barista:"

-->Starbucks coffee tastes like crap!

You're welcome to your opinion. I like the stuff myself, but despite my time in the green apron I'm no connoisseur. I wouldn't turn up my nose at Folgers Singles -- well, not much. There are several reasons some people don't like our coffee. For example, Starbucks coffee is roasted about twice as long as most other coffees. Is this over-roasting it? Beats me. If it's too strong ask for a cup of "mild" coffee (which will be something like Lightnote or Breakfast Blend) and see if it's any better. Or perhaps you got a bad batch. Or it was a kind of coffee you just didn't like. (I noticed, for example, that whenever our regular coffee of the day was the 30th anniversary blend, sales of mild coffee jumped dramatically.) Or maybe it is crap. Who knows? It's all a matter of taste. I wouldn't say McDonald's is haute cuisine, but that doesn't stop them from serving Billions & Billions. Likewise, whether the coffee is "crap" or not, people buy it, and they come back for more. And Chicken McNuggets are really good with honey.

-->What do you have against Frappuccinos, anyway?

Your average barista is usually not very fond of these, and it's hard to say exactly why. They're quite easy to make, rarely involve espresso, don't require steaming milk ... it's just a matter of throwing the ingredients in the blender and blending. They're fairly tasty, and most employees and ex-employees have a favorite frap or two. So why don't we like them? Well, for one thing it's a favorite drink of the Trendy Teenagers who pour forth from their Junior High schools and High schools, make sure they are Seen entering Starbucks, and commence to order a Trendy Drink. Fraps are also a way of drinking coffee without tasting it, which is kind of cheating in some eyes. One learns to instinctively know who's going to order a Frappuccino, and dread evil frap rushes. The closest analogy I can come up with is being a bartender and dealing with a constant flow of orders for little blended girly drinks. (To be honest, though, I don't know whether bartenders hate making girly drinks like I hate making fraps)

-->Sometimes I hear the people behind the counter saying strange words. What do they mean?

There is a certain amount of lingo involved in being a barista, even beyond what's on the menu, and it varies from area to area or even store to store. Allow me to explain a few.

Traditional or Drip: Plain coffee.
Addshot: An extra shot of espresso added to a drink. Usually you'll hear this when someone orders a Frappuccino with espresso; the person taking the order will call something like "Can I get an addshot?" to let the person at the espresso bar know they need to make an extra shot.
For-Here: Served in a ceramic cup rather than a paper one, or in the case of pastries, served on a plate rather than in a bag.
Zebra: A drink made with half regular mocha, half white mocha. Not all stores use this.
Frap rush: Sometimes a group of people will come in, like high school students, and all order Frappuccinos. This is a frap rush.
COD: Coffee Of the Day. Again, plain coffee.
Spin: Every ten or fifteen minutes, one of the baristas is supposed to go through the lobby of the store, bus the tables, wipe and restock the condiment bar, check the bathroom, and just generally neaten up. This is a spin, also known as a lobby or the fifteen minute timer.
Shots pulling long or short: Starbucks standards require that an espresso shot take between 18 and 23 seconds to pull. This requires some skill on the part of the barista using the machine (if it's an old-school La Marzocco machine and not one of the new push-button Verissimos) and is very susceptible to the crankiness of the device, the grind of the beans, the firmness of the tamp, etc. Short shots are a bit sweeter (like ristrettos), long ones are a bit darker, but technically only 18-23 second shots are supposed to be served unless the customer specifies otherwise.

from "O Chef:"

The Monumental Difference Between Latte and Cappuccino

What is the difference between caffè latte and cappuccino? When I have asked at various coffee spots, I seem to get different answers!

You know, those little 17-year-old all-knowing snobs who stand behind the counter and deign to serve you are trying to confuse you, trying to instill a sense of mystery in an overpriced product that will keep you guessing and coming back for more. We can’t do anything about the price, but at least we can help clear up the mystery. In this case, it’s a matter of proportion — latte has more milk.

In this country, cappuccino is a serving of espresso (about 2 ounces) with essentially similar amounts of milk and a rather stiff milk foam. Caffè latte is a serving of espresso with about three times as much milk, topped with a short head of foam. So a latte is milder and has a milkier taste.

While Starbucks has imposed rigid standards at every store in its chain, in practice in other coffeehouses and restaurants around the country, these drinks can vary substantially, and a cappuccino at one place could be similar to another coffeehouse’s latte, or even weaker. But not necessarily less expensive....

Can anyone else tell that I would rather be doing something else than working out an annotated bibliography for my Chaucer class...?

anywhere but here

2008-03-08T23:35:00.000-08:00

body still,
pulse pounding,
heart yearning to explode,
I wish I could be anywhere but here.

Why do I feel the need to not be where I am now? Why do I look at my life and think that I am insignificant? Why do I look at my life and wish that I was either completely broken or whole but not a little of both?

I talked with a good friend last night--someone who can relate to me very well--and talking with her made me feel somewhat tilted, if that makes any sense. I used to think that when I stopped seeing a counselor last year that I was well on my way to being whole. I had dealt with the crap, and I was on to my next biggest challenge: healing from a breakup.

Ok, so it's not like that was a walk in the park at the time, either. (Thankfully, that's finally over and resolved. It just took a year, is all.) Not the point of the blog. Reversing to the start of the rabbit trail...

Anyway, so a year later, I know that I've made progress, but even so, I know I still have a long way to go. I think about potential relationships, and I feel sick. Is that how a whole person is supposed to react? I think about turning into a monster with another guy in the picture, and I revolt at the idea. I think about an actual marriage relationship, and my stomach gets queasy.

Me? Married? It's laughable!

It's not that I think I'm beyond loving someone else or being loved in return, but I can't stomach the idea of the act of marriage. It's good thing it's not exactly one of my future options at this point--at least not short term future. Even so, I don't know if I'll ever be able to handle marriage.

I remember talking with one of my coworkers from the bookstore and she and I were somehow discussing a couple that was going through premarital counseling in which the woman had been sexually abused growing up. (Random side note: still feel like it's a lie when I say that I was...) My coworker didn't know anything from my past, but one of the things that she basically said during the conversation was that the future husband was probably going to regret marrying this girl because she would always be screwed up from her past and that intimacy would be very hard for them.

At the time, I tried to brush it off, but clearly, the thought dug deep and hasn't let go of me yet. I wish that I could meet someone who was sexually abused who has had a healthy marriage regardless of the...hold the phone. I am SUCH an idiot. My mother was abused as a child, and she and my dad have a GREAT relationship.

She and I need to talk.

the long-winded day that ended with a sigh of happy relief :)

2008-02-21T22:08:00.001-08:00

Do you ever have those days where you feel simply fabulous, and you can't put your finger on why?

Well, today was definitely NOT one of those days--at least for most of it. I was dressed cute all day, with fun hair, and even though I looked good, I felt like crap on a stick. I even got a random compliment on my hair in the checkout line at Houghton Market this afternoon.

A big part of why I felt so out of sorts today was because I was going constantly all day. I started with a TESL class at 10am in which I felt like I knew nothing at all and could explain nothing--and I was meeting one on one with one of the very advanced ESL students! This morning's experience does not bode well for my future as a TESL teacher... :S

After TESL, there was Chaucer, during which class period we devoted ourselves to extensive research, which was actually fun once we got started. (You can tell our class is entirely filled with five senior level nerds.) After that, I met with my CB and a Bible prof to work out a floor event involving Passover and communion. Then it was on to my next class, after which I had to drive to the bank, deposit checks and withdraw cash, and then it was off to Redmond to pick up the floor sweatshirts.

Once I got back from picking up the floor sweatshirts, I went to my room for a few minutes of down time in which I tried to figure out how I was going to manage to go to a friend's birthday dinner and get back to my floor for a meeting at 8:30. Anyway, somehow it all came together, and the floor meeting wasn't that exciting, but it wasn't all that long either.

And then the floor sweatshirts were handed out. And then I took my hair down and shook it out and it became gloriously full-bodied and wavy and I put on my new sweatshirt and felt comfortable AND cute, and the world was well once more.

Now, I find out that what is due for homework tomorrow isn't as overwhelming as I thought it would be, so I just need to call a friend up and work it out with her, and it will all be good. Yay! :)

Anyway, now that I don't look "cute" anymore, I think it's very interesting that I feel beautiful. I think it's because I don't care anymore. :)

Sah-wah-dee-kah!

2008-02-11T17:25:00.001-08:00

in God we trust (sometimes, sort of...)

2008-02-11T17:12:00.000-08:00

Can't put it better than how I already put it in an email earlier today. Below is what happened to me over the weekend... :)

Hi Brenda,

Yesterday before we sang at Cedar Park and you asked the choir if God had moved in our lives during the morning services, I wanted to speak up, but I didn't want to take a lot of time, and you said, "Quickly!" so I thought it would be better to just send you an email instead.

God works in all the details, as I'm coming to understand, and He's definitely a God of intricacy with an eye on everything. Last week, while working on an assignment for Bible Study and Interp, I was doing the msn messenger thing with Tyler's mom (who is like a second mom to me) in Alaska, and she and I started discussing one of the passages in 1 Corinthians 12 about speaking in tongues. I was confused by the passage, so she clarified a bit more.

Even though I grew up AG and I've done the "come forward to receive the gift in tongues" altar call bit a few times in my life, I still don't use the gift. Laura--Tyler's mom--told me that she believes the gift is in me but that I haven't opened up to it yet. Anyway, this isn't entirely the point of the email at all, so I'll get to what she said that really stuck with me over the weekend. One of the things she said was, "Face it, Bethany, you have trust issues," and that I really needed to trust God about the entire speaking in tongues thing.

Well, Friday was a day that I spent thinking about trust and seeking out God in the matter and feeling some comfort but not really seeing any huge solution to my issues. Saturday, I didn't really think about it and then Sunday came around.

Sunday morning was not a good morning for me. I woke up with a migraine and hoped that God would take it away--along with some migraine pills and a lot of water. All three worked, so that was good, but I was still tired and feeling pretty lousy.

And then J Del shared devotions before our first service at Shoreline. What he had to say really spoke to me because I was feeling like a failure to God in a lot of ways, and some of them were very recent. He encouraged me because I'm often wont to forget that God is on my side even when I screw up and that He wants me to come back to Him. So I thought, "Cool, all right, today might not be so bad."

First service wasn't too bad, but at the end when both Zain and Pastor Phil shared about the song "Jesus Never Fails," they both put it in a light that I hadn't really thought of before. I used to think when I heard the song that "Jesus never fails" meant "Jesus will pull you through hard circumstances." God has definitely pulled me through some tough times--some very painful breakups and also dealing with sexual issues from my past--so I know that God doesn't fail us when things get screwed up. But I'd never thought of it in the sense that people have failed me and human relationships have failed me, but God's relationship is always there and that He won't fail me or let me down, that He's trustworthy and that I can trust Him to be there for me and with me no matter what I go through. I have believed in God since I was six years old, but I'm still learning to trust Him implicitly with my life.

Now that I look back on the end of the first service, I can think, "Oh, well clearly that's when I took notice of the emphasis on trusting God," but I don't think that's necessarily the case. See, after first service, I was making a beeline to the changing rooms, just to be away from people--still felt pretty crappy, I'm not gonna lie--and then this woman stopped me and said, "God pointed you out to me up there and told me to pray for you. What can I pray for you about?"

I was pretty taken aback, and I said that there was so much, but then we went to the little prayer chapel and I told her about not really trusting God but wanting to trust Him. She prayed for me in there, mentioning that she didn't know what bad relationships I had gone through in the past to have put me in this place of not trusting God, but asking God to show me repeatedly over the next few weeks that I can trust Him. I cried, but then after praying for me, she and I talked a bit and she mentioned that this was the first year that she didn't have a kid in Choralons. I asked her name, and lo and behold, Mikey Forrey's mom had prayed for me at Shoreline. :) She said that she would continue to pray for me as the Lord laid me on her heart--of which I am very grateful!

Second service I was pretty emotional again, mostly because that's what God does to me when He nails me in the heart. I don't know if you noticed, but especially when we sang "Jesus Never Fails" for the second time, I couldn't stop crying. Sunday morning was such a powerful reminder to me that I could trust God--not just believe in His existence.

By Sunday night, I felt more stable emotionally and was able to look beyond myself more during the service to pray for those in the sanctuary. There was a young girl sitting behind you and Pastor Phil in the second row who had a mask on the whole time. She was one of those girls that I knew there was something going on because of her defensive attitude. I kept praying for her everytime I glanced down into the front row.

When Pastor Phil gave the pseudo altar call at the end of the service, I peeked, hoping that she would raise her hand and praying that she would--and she did! I was so excited. Then, when the prayer team went down into the front and up the aisles, I started praying that someone would go to her, that someone would be prompted to go pray with her. No one was moving, and I asked God to shove me out of the risers if I was supposed to go pray with her. Well, my heart was racing and I knew that I was supposed to go, but I was afraid--and then someone else went to pray with her instead. (In fact, several people prayed and talked with her throughout the prayer time.)

The thing is, I wish that I hadn't missed the opportunity to be a part of that. I'm glad that someone moved to pray with her, but last night pointed out to me that God will have people go and do His will. It's my choice whether or not to obey His call. I felt that I wasn't spiritual or strong enough to go and pray with someone, so I was afraid of going forward and held back instead. I hope that next time that happens, I won't be so afraid.

One more thing, and then I'll end this epic email. :) After the service, when we were changing and grabbing a bite to eat before heading back to school, I ran into one of my residents and started talking with her. She and I have had pretty serious conversations before about what she deals with and how hard her past has been, so it wasn't unusual that she opened up to me again last night. Things have been harder for her this year than I thought that they had been, but when we finished talking, I asked if I could pray for her, and it was a great experience to know that I was able to play a role in helping her--almost like God was giving me a second chance on having skipped out on the earlier altar time.

Anyway, I just wanted to share that with you, and I hope that it's been an encouragement to hear that Choralons is really ministering to everyone involved--not just the audience who hears us sing, but also the choir.

Thank you for leading us!

~Bethany

my body is a wonderland

2008-02-05T15:44:00.000-08:00

Pretty sure every woman--no matter her level of confidence--has discovered one or more flaws on her body at some point during her life on this green earth. I am definitely one of those "rare" types who has discovered full-bodied loathing in this area on multiple occasions.

Problem areas abound, from my face--who knew acne was still a curse after high school?--to my chest--a smidge too small to be adequately proportionate--to my thighs--plump--to my ankles--too thin for my "man calves." I have only ever loved my feet and my hands, although they too have their genetic quirks. (Fortunately, they're still cute in my book.)

Since the start of my senior year, I have managed to gain a solid ten pounds or so. I also haven't been exercising much, which is my fault entirely, and I'm not particularly comfortable with my weight. However, I am currently in love with my body.

Moreover, even though I see no prospects in this area, I don't find it impossible to imagine that there could be a man in the future who could be in love with my body as well. I guess that comes with having self-confidence, which I have gained a lot of in the past year. Fascinating how God can give us that boost that we need.

work

2008-01-04T18:50:00.000-08:00

Currently at work, wasting a bit of time before I can go back to the last room that needs turning down. So ridiculous. I'm only supposed to be here a few hours and then what happens? People ask for a later turn down. :S I can't be too hard on them because, well, that's what the babysitter suggested, but still. Weird.

Something else that's weird: babysitters in hotels. If you are staying in a hotel, how can you know about a good babysitter in the area? Bit odd in my opinion.

victim

2007-12-29T01:08:00.000-08:00

In a conversation I had with a friend last night, he firmly and in a not so gentle way, rebuked me from my current mood. I was tired and emotional and started complaining about how I didn't see my future going the way I thought it should be going. The details of the conversation don't matter except to say that I really wanted to fight him on the matter and chose not to for the sake of peace.

I'm glad that I chose to bite my tongue instead because when I clambered up to bed and began crying my eyes out, I thought over what he'd said and tried to rationalize the rebuke away, painting him to be the bad guy. No dice. He was right: I was not.

In the morning, I thought it over more, when the emotions had died down and I could think about it more logically, without emotions getting in the way. I discovered that I have the tendency to see myself the victim. I allow myself to wallow in despair instead of choosing the better attitude.

It's not merely coincidental that this change in attitude corresponds neatly with me releasing my relationship with God to go where it may. It mostly fell apart, or fell away from me, and I didn't try hard to get it back. The circumstances surrounding that release aren't consequential, at least not in comparison to the fact that I let go of God and didn't seem to care.

By the time I woke up to this reality, my heart had hardened and my selfish, obstinate nature took over. I have been wrestling with God over Christmas break. I think I cracked my Bible once--maybe twice--and most of the time, I've been angrily demanding answers from God about my various problems.

At this point, I feel very unprepared to go back to school in less than a week to be an RA again. So right now, God, I'm putting down my defenses. I'm opening up my shriveled, hardened heart as much as I can on my own strength. Batter it, Lord. Do what it takes to knock down the walls that keep me from You. Without You, there is no reason to draw breath, and all I really want to breathe is You.

Am I a victim? Only if I refuse to let God rescue me.

random French poem by Marie Nervat

2007-12-17T22:56:00.000-08:00

Je voudrais aller me promener dans les bois ;
j'aurais un grand chapeau, une robe légère,
je me griserais d'air et de bonne lumière,
et tu me rapprendrais à marcher à ton bras.

Je voudrais aller dans un grand bois, un vieux bois,
où l'on dit que les fées se promènent encore ;
peut-être en attendant du soir jusqu'à l'aurore,
qu'une d'elles nous laisserait ouïr sa voix.

Moi je n'ai pas vu d'arbres depuis si longtemps,
ni de fleurs dans les jardins ! Celles que tu portes,
et que tu poses sur mon lit, à moitié mortes,
achèvent de mourir dans les appartements.

Ce ne sont pas de vraies fleurs libres sous le ciel ;
elles ont des robes rouges trop tuyautées,
puis, sur les draps, on dirait des taches figées,
taches de sang qui font plus pâles mes mains frêles.

J'aime mes mains à présent, elles sont si blanches !
je vois les petites veines bleues sous la peau,
je n'ai gardé à ma main gauche que l'anneau,
l'anneau d'or que tu m'as donné avec ton âme.

Mes pauvres mains ont l'air si lasses sur les draps !
Ah ! je voudrais sortir, marcher, je me sens forte,
je voudrais fuir bien loin, et refermer la porte
sur cette chambre monotone de malade.

[TRANSLATION]

I would like to go walking in the woods;
I will have a large hat, a light dress,
I will be drunk on air and light,
and you will recall walking with me on your arm.

I would like to go to a large wood, an old wood,
where they say fairies still walk;
maybe while waiting for night until dawn,
one of them will let us hear her voice.

I haven't seen trees in such a long time,
nor flowers in gardens! Those that you carry,
and that you place on my bed, halfway dead,
realize death in the apartment.

These are not true, free flowers under the sky;
they are in red dresses that are too tightly fitted,
besides, on the sheets, they are frozen stains,
stains of blood that make my frail hands paler.

I like my hands now, they are so white!
I see the little blue veins under my skin,
I only kept the wedding band on my left hand,
the gold wedding band you gave me with your soul.

My poor hands look so weary on the sheets!
Ah! I would like to go out, to walk, I feel strong,
I would like to escape far away, and to reclose the door
on this bedroom that is monotonous with sickness.

oh but it is!

2007-12-16T15:14:00.001-08:00

India

2007-12-10T22:55:00.000-08:00

In May, I'll be going to India for a two week long mission trip. In Bombay, we'll be working with the local teen challenge and in that we will most likely be working with victims of human trafficking and/or street kids/drug addicts.

Ever since my school started to have an offering focus geared to helping stop human trafficking, my heart has been gradually breaking for those affected by it. Now that I've been presented with the opportunity to actually go there and do something about it firsthand, I can hardly believe it.

In the meantime, I have $1900 to raise. The first payment is due February 4 at $800. I currently have $150 deposited toward that cost. Only $1750 left to raise! :) (I have to look at the bright side here...) So very soon I shall be writing letters to friends and family, asking for funds.

I have a very strong feeling that God is going to blow my mind with the response in some way. I know that He will provide because I know that I'm supposed to go on this trip. At least I have a very hard time with the idea that I may not be going in the right direction with this.

Anyhow...I have a fundraising thermometer in the sidebar now so you can all follow along with my progress. I hope to see the money miraculously come in. I'll work more to enable that and pray for the remaining amount!

black magic

2007-12-03T02:51:00.001-08:00

I would post this on my myspace blog as well, but I'm pretty sure my profs would nail me to the wall for blogging when I'm not done with my 12 page paper yet. (That would be the 12 pager that's due in, oh, seven and a half hours...)

However: I would like to make a plug for coffee at this point. I was very tired when I sat down in my uber comfy recliner to write this paper. But that was six cups of coffee ago, and right now, I feel very alert, practically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. :)

I am optimistic about finishing this paper as figuring out my outline isn't as difficult as I thought it would be. I have a feeling God is giving me supernatural grace at this moment and I am going to be pretty much wiped out at the paper's completion.

In the meantime, for your enjoyment, the following index cards:

By the way, I texted Saturday while driving...on the freeway...while it was snowing. Do you think I might be something of a reckless driver? :S

Good old Donner party jokes. They never get old.

weather change

2007-10-26T09:12:00.001-07:00

As I trudged sleepily over to the caf this morning, I noticed that it was just a tad on the nippy side. On the way back to the dorm after grabbing food and coffee, my eyes were actually open enough for me to notice the remnants of frost on the grass.

Did you know that there was frost this morning? Frost. Frost! Frost. We hates frost, precious. It burns in its frigidity it does, yes preciousss. We hates it we does. We hates it because it means that winter is just around the corner, which means ice and snow and pneumonia and DEATH. It means death, people.

We hates it. Alternately, we loves warmth like Hawaii, Palau, and Fiji. So who wants to pay for a ticket to get cranky African somewhere warm where she will glow with happiness and a sexy tan?

How to make the world a more liveable place

2007-10-26T01:19:00.001-07:00

I was talking with Maggie this evening in her room, completely discombobulated by the state of my mind which is highly restless and agitated, when it struck me that there is a very simple solution to the complexity of life:

Get rid of men.

And it's so easy. Really, all we have to do is throw some Hungry Man frozen dinners for bait on an empty tanker, then ship them (that would be "men") to Antarctica where they will explore their manliness by hunting penguins and seals. Really, it's a win-win situation. Women get the rest of the world, men get to hunt.

All of this followed my original thought of taking up residence in a convent--an idea which has crossed my mind on multiple occasions. Really, what could be better than spending your life simply, in study or in the garden, communing with God and with other brilliant women? (Oh yes, women in convents must be brilliant otherwise they would be incapable of remaining there and would crave the company of lesser creatures...like men.)

The thing is, guys mess with you. They come along, and they don't mean to do anything, but they cross your path and then BLAM! out of nowhere you're thrown into a seething maelstrom of insanity which you cannot escape but which you also NEVER ASKED FOR IN THE BLOODY FIRST PLACE!

And can you just be friends with these odd creatures? Hardly. Guys enjoy flirting, or more likely teasing, and it's all fun and games until girls start second guessing the friendship and get paranoid. Does he like me? Do I like him? BLAM!!! Maelstrom time again.

Seriously, if you are male and you are reading this, kindly rethink your life. And if you don't hunt on a semi-regular basis, you should probably look into it. I'm starting to set my traps...

funny quotes

2007-10-18T22:47:00.000-07:00

[After saying I'd rather stay in my dorm so that I wouldn't have to lug my computer, calling it "a beast"]
"And you're the beauty!"

[Response to me pouting after someone reminding me that I wasn't writing inspired Scripture]
"The Canon is closed, Bethany."

[Addition to story about Christians trying to "one up" each other]
"Christianity is not a competitive sport, ladies and gentlemen."

[Talking about Grecian athletes]
"The Greeks were down with naked."

2007-10-07T03:04:00.000-07:00

why I like my intro to writing class...

2007-09-19T00:06:00.000-07:00

...I end up with quotes like this:

"People in the newspaper don't 'pass away.'
"They don't 'meet their Maker.'
"They don't 'receive their eternal reward.'
"Their lives are not 'snuffed out.'

"They die."

~Marilyn Bailey

mimic-ish of "I want a wife" by Julie Brady

2007-09-17T01:39:00.000-07:00

In my advanced expository writing class, we were given this piece to read. (I recommend you reading it yourself or else this entry won't make much sense...) Several people have used the form to parody other facets of life--"I want a maid of honor," "I want a writer," "I want a Meghan"--and I felt like applying it somewhat to my own life. It's *mostly* in jest. :)

I want a resident assistant. I want a resident assistant who will create a theme for my floor and decorate accordingly so that every knick knack has its place and meaning so that when I move into that new strange environment called “college,” I will feel that I am moving into something of a home and not so much of an institution.

I want a resident assistant who will take the time to get to know me. I don’t want to have to go to her to get to know her side of life. I want a resident assistant who will plan many floor events to keep my overflowing social calendar filled—even if I never take the time to actually attend her events or appreciate the work she puts in. It’s her job after all, even if she’s concurrently working towards a degree and putting in hours elsewhere just to pay the bills. But come on: she’s a resident assistant. She’s here to help me—it’s in her job title!

I want a resident assistant who will listen to all of my problems when I come knocking at her door at 3 am. I also want a resident assistant who will intuitively know what is going on in my life when I purposefully choose not to fill her in.

I want a resident assistant I can complain about with my friends on the floor, because really, I don’t think it’s necessary to enforce quiet hours or crack down on pranks. College isn’t about learning; it’s like summer camp for adults, and I’m so an adult now that I’m eighteen and a high school graduate.

I want a resident assistant who will give me my space but who will also walk me through some of the biggest changes in my life as I transition and develop. It doesn’t matter that she’s also transitioning and developing. What matters is that she is supposed to know how to go through every step of the journey and will make it as easy as possible for me to grow up—I mean, “mature.”

just a silly video

2007-09-08T22:28:00.000-07:00

"It looks like a Zoloft shark."

2007-09-04T22:04:00.001-07:00

I want to start off by saying, "Meghan, I appreciate your glorious sense of humor in the midst of classes." And that's all I'm saying in regards to the subject line.

Moving on!

I am still in the midst of job hunting. Nothing too promising, seeing that I was denied at the library. *sniff* I wasn't 100% sold on the job I was trying for, so in and of itself, not getting that position didn't destroy me. However, as I felt that I was actually somewhat qualified for the position, it was disheartening in another way because then I felt I wouldn't be able to get any job thereafter. (Oh the insane extremes within my cerebrum!)

I ended up having a good chat with Jane in the Aerie about it all, getting things off my chest and trying not to burst into tears the entire conversation. Well, somehow, I managed to get things together, and then after a series of pleasant events, found myself headed in a new direction for possible work and a renewed vigor to vanquish my enemy job applications.

For some reason, job applications and job interviews are two of the most intimidating, anxiety-inducing vehicles in this world--at least for me. In my mind, they represent the potential for failure quite a bit more than success. (Although, I'm probably equally afraid of success and failure...)

All that to say, I picked up several more applications and filled out others I already had, and tomorrow, on that glorious promissory note of hope, I shall go forth in business regalia to drop off my various applications and to pray most fervently for a return on my effort.

Fortunately, I do not feel quite as overwhelmed now as I did earlier. I am still juggling a lot of everything and trying to settle in to some sort of routine and consistency, but I feel a bit of a respite in there. And now to Wisemore's reading...

RA conundrum

2007-09-03T22:34:00.001-07:00

"the week I became a whore"/"the week I had an epiphany"/"the week God constantly blessed me"

2007-08-04T17:05:00.000-07:00

Week five of camp--week seven at Miracle Ranch--what can I say about it? It was incredible. God blessed me with a fantastic cabin this week, probably a cabin I did not deserve to have at all. *thinks a bit more* Yep, pretty sure I couldn't have done anything to earn this cabin.

This week was one of two "Tomodachi" weeks. There's a Christian school in Sendai, Japan, that teaches English to its students from kindergarten through seventh (I think?) grade, and at the culmination of the last grade, these students have the opportunity to take this three week trip to the US to help them with their conversational skills.

Their first week in the US is at Miracle Ranch, where they live side by side with American campers for a week. Integration is encouraged, and it was so great to watch my girls all warm up to each other. I think by the end of Monday, they were all friends, joking and laughing and playing together. During KBMO, the American girls were trying to teach the Japanese girls slang, and Alice kept saying, "Tights!" instead of "Tight!" All involved laughed about that one. :)

After leaving Miracle Ranch, the students from Meysen Academy have several homestays in the area, then they take a trip through southern California, hitting up San Fran, the Redwoods, and Disneyland. From there, they go to Hawaii, and then back home. Typically, students who come on these trips value their week at Miracle Ranch above the rest of their destinations. (Score! We're better than Disneyland! :) )

All of my girls, even my Japanese girls, believed in God prior to camp, so Bible studies got a little intense. Some super challenging questions were asked, and I fumbled through them the best that I could. (Example: do you actually burn in hell, because isn't it just your soul that goes there? And how can your soul be burned?) We tended to deviate quite often from the Bible study, but I think that's okay because Bible studies are basically a refresher of fireside the night before. Plus, it got the girls even more curious about God and faith, and one of them even started reading Revelation during her free time.

It was difficult to have such a language barrier, though. I wish that I'd thought of getting a translator in the cabin during Bible study so that I could have worked the Japanese girls into it more, but maybe this next week I can do that instead. However, during night devos, I got the Japanese girls to participate a little more.

Here's where I need to elaborate on one of the nightly devotions. One night, the questions were asked: "Where are you in your relationship with God?" and "Where do you want to be?" An illustration that we have been using to describe our relationship with God is that of two chairs--God in one, a person in the other. If that person is in relationship to God, the chair is facing Him; if not, it is facing away from Him. This was really good, because I was able to use that to communicate more with my Japanese campers.

All of the girls that night said that their "chairs" were facing God. Some said that their chairs had been facing away from God before they came to camp last year, others said that their chairs turned around when they went to Awana. One girl said that she wanted to be as close to God as she possibly could be, which, for a twelve year old girl, is saying a lot. I got so excited about their wholehearted pursuit of the Lord this week! I felt humbled, too, and so very blessed.

[topic change]

My epiphany of this week happened around Wednesday. At the beginning of the week, I kept trying to get together with my CIT so we could talk, but it just wasn't happening. So one day, during waterfront duty, I wrote her a letter instead, in which I listed all the things that I appreciate about her--her big heart, her positive attitude, her willingness to sacrifice personal time to be with campers--and slipped the note in her mailbox. It's amazing how the truth can be so encouraging. I feel like our relationship got closer after that, like we warmed up more to each other. I feel like an idiot for not saying something sooner, to be honest, but I'm not very good at verbally acknowledging someone's positive traits. I notice them, I just don't say anything about them.

The rest of my epiphany happened later in the week when I had some free time to talk with two of the other counselors--both of whom have been at MR much longer than I have. We were discussing CITs, and I mentioned that Frisbee was great with the campers, except that she tended to be off with Bippity a lot. Both of them said that CITs are really there to hang with their friends, and not so much with the campers. And then I realized that all this summer, I had been expecting a fifteen year old--just after her freshman year in high school--to be acting like a college student. It's not like she's supposed to be my partner in the cabin, she's supposed to be learning how to do what I do. She's there to learn, not to be doing my job. I think my attitude has lightened up significantly in regards to the whole situation, which is great.

[abrupt segue]

I know you're probably thinking right about now that, "Hey, she hasn't mentioned the whole 'become a whore' thing yet." So here you go:

Highlights from the week:

1. Dinner dress ups :) Four significant nights: Star Wars night (I dressed as Aayla Secura), dress your counselor night (my girls dressed me "gangster," including marker tattoo sleeves, bling, basketball shorts over boxers, and a grill made of tinfoil. We got second for that one...), a military themed night where we dressed as hippy protesters, and dress as your favorite movie night, in which we picked Pirates of the Caribbean. We had Calypso, Davey Jones, Elizabeth, Jack Sparrow, random pirate scum, and then Giselle (Frisbee) and Scarlet (myself). Yes, at a Christian camp, the counselor and her CIT dressed as whores. And we got first place. :) (I think it had to do with the leg Fris and I flashed Gub Gub...)

2. the Japanese version of "Rock, Paper, Scissors"

3. Boating class with Baton Rouge, and Dean jumping in the lake with all his clothes on. Also got to help tip a canoe, which was surprisingly a lot of fun.

4. Morning swims with Re/Marzi/Bekha/pan

5. getting whiplash from a slip-n-slide

6. trying to run a "steeplechase" at the end of the rodeo Thursday night while wearing xtra tufs and carrying a Canadian flag. (O the humiliation!) It's hard to run in rainboots and with a cold...

7. Kari being the smartest little twelve year old who would help explain concepts in junior high lingo during Bible study

8. Frisbee shooting Runway in the face with a paintball and then getting shot in the back in retribution

9. Purell wars after meals

a day of (mis)adventures, sprinkled with a generous helping of grace

2007-07-28T22:52:00.000-07:00

Last night my flight was delayed leaving Ketchikan, so I didn't get in to Seattle until 11:45pm. Baggage seemed piled up elsewhere and didn't come to my eager little hands until 12:30am. By the time Tia and I got back to Kirkland, it was about 1:30am. (Oh, and we also made an extra, random loop back through the airport because poor T was exhausted by the time I got in. Don't worry, folks, she was indeed compensated for her valiant efforts.)

Anyhow, I made myself get up at 9:30 so I would have time to get everything figured out before we needed to be at NU around noon. I had to call my brother floor RA and figure out our plans for the day, since there was no way that I was going to call him when I got in to Seattle last night, which was the original plan.

Well, Tia and I didn't get to NU until about 12:30pm, which wasn't a problem because David hadn't showed up yet either. He was running late because of traffic through Tacoma--he hails from Olympia-ish. Through a random turn of events--or mayhaps God watching out for me :) --I ran into another future RA on campus and got David's cell from a friend she called for me.

Eventually, David and I met up in the library, where we printed up different directions to various locales, potential places for our floor retreat. Our first destination was about an hour north, at a state park. We both thought it was just about ideal as to what we were looking for in regards to activities and such, but we wanted to check the other state parks on our list as well--there were three total. Also, at the first park, we figured the deciding factor would be if the next place had a playground or not. (Yes, we are in college. No, we are not mature yet. :D )

Our next stop was a state park at an undisclosed location--I don't want to let it slip before we go!--even farther north, and somewhat west. This took about another hour or so driving. We scouted the place out--much larger than the first park--and I'm positive God brought us to the right place. I asked Him to help us find the perfect spot for our floor retreat, and I think this is it. David and I see eye to eye on it, we both have good ideas about it, and it looks like we can reserve a group camp site so we won't have residents scattered over a broad area.

While we scouted out the area, we walked along the beaches and through some of the trails. It was a great day for this because it was warm out, but not overly hot. We encountered a wedding party on one of the beaches and David kept joking that we should try to get a picture with the bride and groom. Funny idea, but we'd already trespassed on the group camp sites to scout them out, so I wasn't too keen on the idea. It's too bad, because the cake looked good.

Walking the trails parallel to the beach was a decent hike, but it got better on the way back when we chose to ditch the forested trail and walk along the beach. Problem: beach does not stretch the same length. Instead, large rocky outcroppings break up the beach, which would have forced us to return to the trail, swim around them, or climb over them. So we called on our inner mountain goats and clambered over these various craggy rocks so that we could keep to the beach.

By the end of the beach trek, we'd taken off our shoes and socks and were walking through the surf. The cold water was quite refreshing, and it was much easier to walk on the harder, wet sand than over the dry sand. And we passed the wedding party again, but we resisted the urge to grab cake and punch to refresh us.

Once we left [undisclosed location] it was 6:30pm or so, and we were/are both convinced that this was the perfect place for our floor retreat. (Thank you, God!!!) On the drive south, we decided to stop at an Arby's for dinner only to lock the keys in the car as soon as we got there. Well, being the flexible types, we decided to eat dinner first. Fortunately, there was a Lowe's across the street, so we were able to buy all the required utensils to break back into the car and continue our voyage.

Fastforward about an hour or so and we were at Fauntleroy with me trying to juggle TOO MANY THINGS so that I could catch a ferry back to PO. (Bless David for driving me to the ferry so that I wouldn't have to take a bus AND a ferry.) Well, when I bought my ticket, the ticket guy--I don't know what his job title actually is...--radios ahead and asks if there's time for "one more Southworth walk on." They radio back and say yes, "if she hurries."

So, already juggling the aforementioned TOO MANY THINGS, I attempt to book it down the dock to the ferry, which is already behind schedule. One ferry worker met me halfway down and helped me with my things, took my ticket. She passed off what she carried to someone else at the other end of the dock, and then someone else came alongside me as we got to the elevator and took another one of my bags.

Three different workers physically carried my luggage to ensure that I would make that ferry, y'all. I so didn't deserve the extra grace God gave me through people today. (And this weekend.) Once I got on the ferry, I called ahead, hoping to find someone to pick me up on the other side and get me to the Jennings' house where my car is parked. Found someone very easily, and at the end of the ferry ride, one of the ferry workers volunteered to help me with my bags again. (He also used to work in Alaska, so we struck up a conversation over my box of xtra-tufs. :) )

Well, this blog is more than long enough. I need sleep because more campers come on the morrow.

hike: a long walk usually for exercise or pleasure

2007-07-25T22:31:00.000-07:00

In this case, it was both. After another slow morning, Kat and I met up with Gaelen for lunch in town--tasty panini!--and then chose to hike in the afternoon out at Settler's Cove. Before we headed out, the Rabbit was out of hibernation long enough to bestow upon us a magical flower that would keep us safe.

It was great hike with warm weather, a few bugs, lots of tree trunks to conquer, and a couple of fun run-ins with water and mud. We also spent some time listening to the trees, eating blueberries, and taking lots of pictures. I was really going to try to capture the day here, and I don't think it's possible for me to do that, so I'm not going to bother.

For dinner, we went for sushi. There's something grand about raw fish and rice and miso soup. And mochi ice cream. Miam! J'en salive... Anywho (ah, the hick in me rises), it's been an awesome day. Kat and I even managed to give BC his meds today--twice!--and we are unmauled in the end. Un/fortunately, BC is starting to feel better, so he's putting up more of a fight than he did earlier.

And now, soon, I shall to bed. Hopefully my cold will be better by tomorrow.

oy vey!

2007-07-24T21:53:00.001-07:00

I have sadly neglected my blog for most of the summer, so I figured I should finally transfer my posts over from myspace--that other blog--and fill everyone in who might be curious. I'll do better in the future, I promise. :)

today, the day that the following things happened:

2007-07-24T21:52:00.000-07:00

1. Slept in

2. Snuggled with Diedre (sp?)

3. Drank coffee (happiness in a mug!)

4. Took a shower

5. Shaved

6. Got girly (I can't really do that at camp)

7. Went to Wal-Mart (with Kat) and bought: xtra tuffs, hair gel, and cough drops

8. Walked around Ward Lake and took pics with Kat

9. Journeyed to Creek Street and wandered with Kat, then...

10. Met up with Gaelen briefly and

11. Partied with some Alaskan puppets

12. Came back to the house, woke up the Rabbit for dinner, but he refused--even sushi!--and then went to dinner at the Landing with Laura and Kat

13. Currently chillaxing with some awesome chicks and cats in the living room.

This is what I call vacation :)

Cat person: I lead an ignored, fur-filled life

2007-07-24T21:51:00.000-07:00

I challenge you to find something more comforting than a warm, furry body snuggled up to yours in those post-sleep moments while you're still in bed and not yet energetic enough to get up. That was my wake up call this morning. Deidre, the grey cat that is currently snoozing on my lap, chose to be my morning buddy and snuggle with me before I managed to fetch coffee.

I am up in Ketchikan, AK, once more, and I am very happy. I realized a few days ago that this is just about a year after my first visit to K-town, and with that realization came the--it is so hard to use a laptop with a cat's head resting in the crook of your left elbow--realization of how much has happened in one year. Praise the Lord that He was with me through all of it!

This summer is infinitely different from last summer. One of the biggest key differences is that for once--in a long time--I'm stable. I'm so used to drama and emotions and insanity that not having it is odd, but wonderful. (Ok, Dede, I'm moving my arm...sorry!) For once, I'm not the one desperately clinging to others to stay buoyed above the turmoil. Instead, I guess God finds me stable enough to be that point of strength for others. And I guess that's why God put me at Miracle Ranch for the summer and as an RA for next year.

This is not to say that I don't need Him daily, because when I get cocky enough to think, "Oh I can take it from here, God," that's usually when it all hits the fan. And once again, I remember my weakness and choose to let God be my strength and my guide. (One more realization that reflects back on a few months past is that God really does know what He's doing. It just takes me longer to realize His plan when He reveals it in time.)

Anyhow, I'm here in Alaska, at the Cronks' house, and I am supremely happy. Looking out on the channel with the low-lying clouds and an occasional sea plane flying by, I feel rested and content. (Eleven hours of sleep didn't hurt either.) I'm so glad I got this week off!

Two more things and I'll go:

1) I'm developing a man-voice with a post-camp stress-induced cold.

2) You need to get on Laura's case about writing her book. (If you're not her friend, message her. :) )

PS. I read The Kite Runner yesterday on the way to the airport, before my plane boarded, all the way up to Ketchikan, and then finished it yesterday afternoon. It was one of the best books I've read in a long time!

one more thing about teen week...

2007-07-24T21:50:00.000-07:00

I forgot to add this in, but it's pretty much hilarious as well, so I feel like I need to include it. I guess this adds to the number of unwanted crushes that seem to keep coming from nowhere. Typically, they're not all that funny, but when a thirteen year old camper starts crushing on you--as well as on all the female staff--it's pretty hilarious.

First part of the story: Runway tells me one day that the campers in Silent Thunder's cabin were swapping stories about female counselors they thought were cute. One kid mentions me, then adds, "But she's way too old for me." Runway says, "She's only a few years older than me. How old do you think she is?" Apparently, the camper thought I was in my thirties.

I'll let that sink in for a bit.

Second part of the story: midway through the week, after my shift in the trading post, Geegles walks in and says, "Apparently, you have an admirer." I question him about it, and he adds, "Yeah, he said, 'Hakuna Matata is a hotty with a naughty body.'" I think I shrieked and just about flipped out. That was SO not something I wanted to hear being said about me! Geegles added that he talked to the camper and made it clear not to use that sort of language in reference to anyone, especially female staff.

I would say the camper learned his lesson, except the next day or so, he chose to sit next to me at lunch. *awkward turtle swims away* Anyway, by the end of the week, I found it all amusing and it's definitely something I had to blog about.

"the week of pure angels" (week 3) & "the week where I started dating" (week 4)

2007-07-24T21:49:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I had every intention of blogging about the third week of camp, but I was unable to access the internet--except for email in the Rock (camp office). I stayed at Miracle Ranch last weekend and had tons of fun chilling with the other staff. I did my laundry, cleaned my cabin, shaved my legs AND did my hair, and then chilled on camp for awhile.

Three fun things about last Saturday: 1) canoeing with Aweemaweh across Horseshoe Lake to the waterlily fields, 2) hanging off the dock and trying to catch fish with my bare hands with Trogdor, Klondike, and Geegles, 3) going to Thai food with Velvety, Ogo Pogo (Eli), Marzipan (ReBekha), and Aweemaweh.

After Thai, I crashed in Marzipan's cabin since she wasn't feeling well, and I didn't really want to sleep in my cabin alone. (Both our CITs were gone.) Last week, this nasty flu bug was going around, and basically half the camp got it. Ok, that's something of an exaggeration, but a lot of the staff got sick--especially the high school staff--and had to go home. Several campers went home early, and I think that week was labeled "Pukefest '07." Fortunately, I was the original initiator of the 24 hr flu bug during sprint week, so I was fine. I was a little dizzy all week, but I think that was a result of waterfront duty, or sitting on the dock and rocking on the water. (blurgh)

However, despite everyone else getting sick, my cabin was perfectly fine. In fact, my campers were astounding. My first impression was that this was going to be a good week, but then I'd had that same feeling about Katie P., and well, she ended up chowing down on Banana Boat. But this week, first impressions held and went even beyond.

I don't think I'd ever encountered such curious girls before. Bible studies kept their attention, as did evening devos, and we ended up continuing a Bible study into KBMO one day because there were so many good questions and they just wanted to keep going. I was very, very blessed by these girls. Plus, they never bickered amongst themselves or had any petty drama. They were united from the beginning, and were absolutely incredible.

This last week that just ended this morning--it seems forever ago--was the first teen week of the summer. The first three weeks, I had girls ranging from 8-10 years of age. This week, I had 13-15 yr olds in my cabin, and I had eleven of them. *blink* Junior highers are so insane and fun, I tell ya what!

From the get-go, my girls this week bonded, and the friendships lasted throughout the week. They were exchanging email and home addresses as well as phone numbers last night and this morning. Hugs were exchanged all around, and several were close to tears when they said goodbye to each other. I almost started crying myself, to be honest, which had never happened before now. I wish I had used more of my free time this week to bond with my girls. I really missed out on some good opportunities.

Thinking back over the week, I can't help but laugh at some of their antics. One of my girls answered the cabin door in just her underoos, and henceforward, whenever someone decided to be scandalous, it was referred to as "going Siara." Point: last night when we were walking down from our cabin to the nightswim we'd earned, we were joking around about showing our knees in public, and I decided to pull up my swimsuit coverup higher on my leg. Unfortunately, without thinking, I'd done so in front of the guys' cabins. Fortunately, no one was there. But then, the girls I was with could hardly wait to tell the other girls in our cabin that "Hakuna Matata pulled a Siara in front of Dodge City!" I didn't really live that one down.

Another thing I didn't live down was the supposed romance between myself and another one of the staff members. Poor eHarmony. My girls were absolutely convinced that we were in love and continued to tease us--especially me--about it throughout the week. My LIT didn't really help the matter because she thought it was hilarious and just egged them on, which was fine, because it really was funny, just awkward at the same time.

Last night, after the No Talent night and before fireside, my girls decided to revamp an old favorite by singing, "Hakuna and eHarmony sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes purple, then comes marriage..." You get the picture. I like that they felt it necessary to include "purple" instead of "love." Oi. Well, it didn't stop at that because then they found eHarmony and sang it to him. And THEN, they hunted me down--I had run off a safe distance across the basketball court--dragged me over to his side, and kept pushing us together and trying to get someone to marry us.

I was laughing the entire time through my protests because it really was hilarious, and the girls had no malice about the ordeal, just joking around. However, because I was laughing so much--and trying not to show it--and since I was embarrassed, my face was red and the girls began teasing me about blushing--a sure sign that he and I were "secret lovers." Junior highers make me laugh. :)

Also funny about this situation is that poor ReBekha was in a similar predicament with her girls, who were also convinced that she and eHarmony were dating. In fact, they even went so far as to say that he was cheating on her with me. At least my girls were just joking around about it and weren't by any means serious! I think that's why I didn't mind the teasing so much because I know they were just having fun.

Now on a more serious note, it's ironic that the impact I feel I had this week wasn't on any of my own campers. Monday night, I prayed with two other counselors for one of their campers, and the rest of the week, this girl came up to me and gave me a hug whenever she saw me because our combined prayers had made a difference in her life.

Also, I spoke with another camper--along with her counselor and the women's staff counselor--about cutting. I shared my own experience with it, the reasons why I did cut, and the circumstances surrounding it. I didn't feel like I'd actually made any headway with her, but the other two women who were with me seem convinced that the camper actually listened, which I hope she did. This girl had a lot of identity issues, so if you could pray that a) she finds God and b) realizes her true identity, that would be more than wonderful.

Another prayer request: issues with my CIT. Some of the time, when she engages in what she's supposed to be doing, she rocks at being a CIT. She's got a great heart, but she's easily influenced by the other CITs who aren't exactly at camp for the campers. In some ways, it feels like she's my "big camper," only she has some authority in the cabin and tended to undermine me behind my back this week. I have a distinct feeling that she and I will be sitting down and having a heart to heart come the next week of camp. It's oddly encouraging to know that I'm not the only counselor having CIT issues, but it's frustrating to be fighting someone who's supposed to be there to help. Please pray for wisdom and guidance as these conversations come up.

One more thing: I'll try to post pics in a day or so. It might wait until I'm up in AK.

"the week where one of my campers ate sunscreen," aka week 2 of camp counseling

2007-07-24T21:48:00.000-07:00

For some reason, I thought the first week of camp was hard, and it definitely was, but this week seemed to be just as trying as the first, if not more so. For some reason, I feel like I can better deal with kids with issues from the inner city than from, oh, Kirkland, y'know?

Oh gosh. She's from Kirkland. What if I run into her again? 0_0

Allow me to explain. This week we had a lot fewer kids than last week--about 50--which is common since this was the week of the 4th of July. So I went into this week thinking, "Hey, this will be the light week that will help me recuperate from last week's insanity." Boy was I wrong, because this week, I had Katie P. in my cabin.

My first impression of her is that she's this charming nine year old who loves her dad, who definitely has a lot of energy, but seems to behave pretty well. And then her dad left and I was in charge. Apparently, summer camp is an excuse for children to forget that rules have ever existed, even though we tell them upfront, day one, what is expected of them.

A few things that she did during the week: scream (a lot), egg on the other girls' hyperactivity during Bible study, KBMO, evening devotions, and any other time that we were all required to be in the cabin, act like a horse (incessantly), slap, kick, spank people (staff included), fake crying to get attention, eat sunscreen, eat after sun lotion, lick the Purell off her hands at meals, lick her deodorant, make up inappropriate songs, and basically run around like a hooligan.

My favorite night was Tuesday because she was in the horsetrack program and they had an overnight out at the tepee camp. We actually got through devos that night with few interruptions and were in bed on time. Pretty sure that was the only night it happened.

And honestly, now that the week is over and I'm reviewing it, I wish that I had handled it better. I would like to justify how frequently I lost patience, how little I loved Katie--or any of the other girls in my cabin this week, and how often I lost my temper, but I really can't. I wish that I had relied on God more. I wish that I had prayed for patience, love, joy, and wisdom, but I don't remember praying much this week.

On the end of the week evaluation sheets, all of the girls--including Katie--marked me down as "10," or "Awesome!," and one girl gave me "100," but I don't feel like that was an accurate measure of how I did this week. Honestly, I'm feeling discouraged about this whole camp thing. I don't feel that I'm really making any headway with my campers. They don't hate me by the end of the week, but have I really impacted them? God only knows.

Other staff encouraged me this last week--we finally got mailboxes--and their notes helped a lot, but if I can't see any impact in my own girls, how can other people see it? (Ok, that's probably a dumb question.)

I would like to give a good report on camp, but I don't feel that I have much to say. I know that during a couple of the Bible studies, girls really got interested. I was able to answer some solid questions, and I know that at least one of the girls had a stronger realization of what Christ did for us on the cross. Also, Katie willingly tried to memorize one of the Bible verses and asked me one night if she could stay up late to read her Bible. So, ok, maybe it wasn't as bad a week as I thought it was. And really, if you think of it, please pray for her. She's interested, but I don't know how much she can grow at home.

Random highlights from the week:

~staff trail ride

~working in the trading post and making ice cream cones with Marzipan and eHarmony

~playing paintball (oddly enough, it got fun when I actually played :P )

~going swimming with Marzipan in the mornings

~going canoeing with Marzipan and Von Trapp in the fog this morning

~getting dressed up as Miss Hanigan from "Annie" for counselor dress up at last night's dinner. My girls dressed themselves up as orphans and sang "It's a Hard Knock Life" for the judges. We got 3rd place. :)

~our cabin's Shrek dinner dress up. We had three blind mice, Shrek, a Shrek baby, Princess Fiona, Sleeping Beauty, Puss in Boots, Donkey, and Dragon. Didn't win, but we should've. We looked darn good! :)

~my watch tan line. It's pretty hot.

"the week of mass hysteria," aka my first week as a camp counselor

2007-07-24T21:47:00.000-07:00

...and I'm not even lying.

This week has been one of the single most stretching, challenging weeks of my life thus far, at least in respect to dealing with other people. For starters, I went from being a single person in charge of me to being a mother of nine within about an hour's time. (Gwen, I have an inkling for life in the Szobody household.)

I fell in love with my girls from the start. All nine are beautiful, gifted, tenderhearted girls who want so desperately to be loved and told that they are wonderful, but who typically don't receive this kind of attention. Unfortunately, this resulted in a lot of acting out in the form of hysterical crying fits, silent treatment, running away, attitude up the wazoo, slapping each other, bickering, and hella whining.

At this point, I would like to restate that I fell in love with my girls from the start. God, however, took over the first evening and loved them through me, because without His strength, patience, joy, and love, I would have died on the first full day of camp...and my kids would have gone out with me.

A little more about these kids that came for "sprint" week. In a past entry, I said that they were from a YMCA group. Correction: they were from various branches of Boys and Girls Clubs all over the south Sound area. Most are from lower income homes in not such great areas and are very tough kids. Moreover, we had 160+ kids at camp--pretty much our max capacity. We had to call in former counselors, brand new counselors, and counselors from our sister camp to help out with the overflow.

Chaos ruled day one of camp, but by bedtime, I was beginning to feel like I had somewhat of a grip on things again. Then Tuesday morning at about 5:30 am, I woke up feeling sort of sick to my stomach. And then the hurling commenced. No idea where it came from, but I threw up a lot that morning before my girls got up. We walked down to breakfast together because I thought I was feeling better, but I was rather mistaken and ended up leaving my cabin in various peoples' hands throughout the day as I slept. (Getting sick probably saved my sanity this week, so God really does work in mysterious ways. ;) )

Although there were bouts of tears pretty much every night--from at least one girl--I don't think I would ever want to trade this week for another one. I am glad that it's over, but I'm just as glad that it happened in the first place. Having the opportunity to see these girls slowly crack from their hardened shells and blossom was incredible.

Attentive during Bible study, but concurrently with the attention span of goldfish, they asked some very good questions. I'm not sure if I managed to get through to them at all, but I know that what God did through me and through the other staff may not be seen for awhile.

The staff blew my mind this week with how energetic and loving they were. I know that if I hadn't had my CIT, LIT, and wrangler helping me with my cabin, I probably wouldn't have made it through the week and, if I had, I would have quit this morning after my campers left. God has truly blessed me with incredible support for this journey that is Miracle Ranch.

I feel like this entry is very disjointed, but I am insanely tired and I'm just writing as thoughts come to me, so please forgive my poor composition.

Highlights from the week:

~all of my girls' smiles, their laughter, their affection, their eyes lighting up when they were having fun wherever they were--from horsemanship class to fireside.

~getting a surprise visit from Stiletto and Wannahokkaloogie while I was trying to recuperate in the nurse's station. They bore the gift of blue gatorade.

~Rising Sun (women's staff counselor) telling that I was doing a fantastic job when I felt like I had officially failed at being a camp counselor or even a believer

~realizing Wednesday night that I only had two more days with my girls (the terrors and angels of my life), which meant that I had only two more days to show them how much I loved them and how much God loved them. This led to a lot of tears throughout evening staff meeting, but it resulted in a renewed commitment to being 100% there for my girls. (Thanks, God, for the gentle reminder.)

~diaper swimming (don't ask)

~hearing various encouragements about how much my girls actually liked me. 1) One of the counselors who led the "showtime" activity told me that for their skit, the kids were portraying various counselors and about five of them wanted to be me. 2) When asked in horsemanship what they liked most about camp--other than horses, they responded with, "Being in a cabin with Hakuna Matata!" 3) This morning the campers filled out surveys to find out how their weeks went, and how we could improve in the future. My girls kept rating their counselor as "10."

My concern now is to avoid complacency. I don't want to think, "Hey, I survived the hardest week at camp, the rest will be a breeze!" I still want/need to rely on God just as much for strength, guidance, and wisdom. Although at this point, I want to make a shirt that reads, "I survived sprint week!" That, in and of itself, is a massive accomplishment. True, there were a lot of tears--and not all of them were shed by my girls--but I feel satisfied with the end result.

Now: to rest. More campers come tomorrow.

freedom to live

2007-07-24T21:46:00.000-07:00

It is astounding how much can happen with a change of scene, including new faces, situations, and challenges. God is always good, and His faithfulness and security boggle the mind. At least they boggle MY mind...

Things I've learned at camp:

1. Quiet times are a must, and really, why would I want to skip out on time with the most incredible Person ever?

Oddly enough, that's really the only thing that comes to mind right now. Granted, I'm tired and not in much of a blogging mood, but I have a lot of other things weighing on my heart and mind besides basic blogging material. I wish I could tell a witty anecdote from this last week, but really, most of it you had to be there to enjoy it, and there's no way that I could ever begin to describe all of the people and situations that occur at camp, so I'm not even going to try.

Maybe one day I'll write a book about this summer and get it published. (I'll at least have fodder for Adv Expos with Julia this fall...)

One thing that happened this last week is that my CIT--counselor in training--came and we got to meet. Camp name: Mrs. Frisbee. Age: 14. Grade: between 9th and 10th. Do we mesh? Are our personalities going to clash? I sure hope we work together well--looks promising--because we're "stuck" together for the rest of the summer. She's in the same cabin as me, and I'm really hoping that I can be a good role model for her, but I also want to be able to learn from her as much as she learns from me. (I'm a big fan of iron sharpening iron. Plus, I don't have THAT many years of experience on her...)

I just thought of some regular blogging stuff that I can include. When Mrs. Frisbee came on Thursday, we talked a bit about how to decorate our cabin for the campers--they come tomorrow!--and in the midst of the discussion, another CIT named Afraidium came in and suggested an African theme since my camp name is Hakuna Matata. (Well duh, why didn't I think of that...?)

So today, Ms. Fris and I were going to go shopping together, but she ditched last minute to chillax with either her mom or Afraidium--not sure, since I was in the shower--but it all worked out fine because then I ended up shopping with Eli--aka Ogo Pogo--and found a bunch of stuff that I can use to decorate. Basically, the Dollar Tree saved my butt on this one. (Bonus: I can re-use a bunch of these decorations on my floor next year. No, this does not mean that my theme next year has anything to do with Africa.)

I have a feeling that my blogs are currently boring to most of my readers because, well, you probably can't relate to anything I'm saying. Or maybe I've been saying too much. But when I only have one chance a week to blog and so much can happen in those seven days, I have to cram it in as much as possible!

Anyhow, campers come tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to it, and I'm not nervous, which is odd. Let's face it, the last year or so--maybe more--I experienced a lot of anxiety. Panic attacks were not unusual, and that sickening feeling of butterflies in my stomach was rather common. Since going to MR, I've experienced nervousness once, and that was fleetingly. The only other times anxiety surfaced was just now when I was thinking about it and letting my mind dwell on it, and a week ago when spontaneously, life fell to pieces for half a day. But as I said at the beginning of this blog, God is faithful. And He does indeed answer prayers.

So, I'm not sure if I'm not nervous because I'm overconfident about camp being a success, or if I have my confidence in the right place--for once. I am expecting God to do amazing things at camp this summer--both in the lives of the campers and in the lives of the counselors and staff. It's weird how I'm not anticipating horrible things that might come along and screw things up. And it's also weird that I'm not afraid of the hard times that are going to come. I know that I don't learn except through difficult circumstances, and I know that this summer is going to stretch me, but I'm not afraid. In fact, I am so excited for this opportunity to grow and to reach the girls that will be in my cabin. I feel like the hell that God has walked me through since high school grad--when my walk with Him really got rolling--have all been preparation for this summer and for next year. I am finally in a place of leadership where I will have direct impact on people. Scary, but thrilling. I know that God is leading me, and I just want to be used of Him--to be His "pencil" as Mother Theresa put it. Wow...what an honor!

Some not so positive news, but important all the same. The last email from my mom mentioned some sad news about several families in Chad. One of the deacons in the Amtoukougne church in N'Djamena recently lost his sister. One of the young men at the youth center in Moundou also lost a relative. And, one of the young men at the church in NDJ died last week of malaria.

Meskine left a wife and children when he died, so please pray for them as they deal with this loss. Furthermore, his children will now be taken care of by his family and his wife is more or less on her own. In Chad, children belong to the father's family, which is a bittersweet factor as Meskine's wife would be unable to provide for her children on her own. At the same time, she just lost her husband, and now her children are basically being taken away from her. This is a hard time for all involved, so if you would remember them in your prayers, please do.

One more thing: I have a feeling I'm going to be coming back to NU all westernized (in a wild, wild west/old west kind of way) this fall.

say what?

2007-07-24T21:44:00.000-07:00

Two things to cover in this blog, so I'll start with the less serious of the two.

To begin with, there is one more unwanted crush going on this summer. (Oh the drama.) Fortunately, like all crushes, it is harmless and will not go anywhere. Unless, of course, this guy turns into some freaky stalker type and refuses to let me be all summer. (Oh yeah, and he's working at camp. 0_0 )

But I'm not too worried, because he recently graduated from South [Kitsap High] and, well, they're not too bright. That probably means he's not catching on to my not quite so subtle hints that I'm not interested in being crush material, but it also probably means that he doesn't have it in him to concoct an elaborate stalking scheme.

Second bit of news: I was reading in Numbers this morning before my shower, and I noticed a most interesting passage. I present it to you, dear readers, to take from it what you will, and then I shall expound on how I perceived this passage:

"So Moses went out and reported the Lord's words to the people. He gathered the seventy elders and stationed them around the Tabernacle. And the Lord came down in the cloud and spoke to Moses. Then he gave the seventy elders the same Spirit that was upon Moses. And when the Spirit rested upon them, they prophesied. But this never happened again.

"Two men, Eldad and Medad, had stayed behind in the camp. They were listed among the elders, but they had not gone out to the Tabernacle. Yet the Spirit rested upon them as well, so they prophesied there in the camp. A young man ran and reported to Moses, 'Eldad and Medad are prophesying in the camp!'

"Joshua son of Nun, who had been Moses' assistant since his youth, protested, 'Moses, my master, make them stop!'

"But Moses replied, 'Are you jealous for my sake? I wish that all the Lord's people were prophets and that the Lord would put his Spirit upon them all!' Then Moses returned to the camp with the elders of Israel."

Numbers 11: 24-30 (NLT)

So, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't this appear to be baptism in the Holy Spirit? Of course, it's not quite like its occurrence in Acts, but then again, God doesn't act in the same ways all the time. This made me think about the New Testament where Paul is saying he wishes all people could experience this.

Interesting to me, any thoughts?

word to yo mama

2007-06-15T22:29:00.000-07:00

Good news: I evaded capture by the KGB and have survived a week of brutal training overseen by an elderly man named "Sarge." (I'm sure he has a real name, but real names are all but obliterated once one sets foot on MR campus.)

Sarge originally joined the Air Force in WWII and has quite the history with firearms. Ergo, Sarge is in charge (hehe...I rhymed!) of the marksmanship program at Miracle Ranch. How did I end up under his vicious reign? Well, little did I know when I drove to camp last Sunday that I was signing up for a week of marksmanship training. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Last Sunday, I actually got lost when I was trying to find Miracle Ranch. And, by the time I got there, a rather large group of smiling, waving horsemen (and women) were greeting all who came up the drive. I don't know why, but it was intimidating. Mix that with the fact that I had gotten lost, was "late," and had no idea where to go to check in, and well, you have one nervous introvert on your hands. Er, the introvert was on my hands because I'm the introvert, but...you get the idea.

The Lord had to give me a pep talk via prayer to get me to actually get out of my car and try to find the right office. Fortunately, it wasn't as bad as my shyness thought it would be and I found my cabin and then some friends shortly thereafter.

Various counselors (res camp/day camp/outpost) were there as well as other staff and some of the wranglers, so I got to know a bunch of different people, but not too many. It was nice not to be overwhelmed the first week. This way, I can gradually break into it and feel mostly comfortable by the time the first week of camp rolls around.

Oh, and I'm super stoked for the first week. "Sprint" week involves having a bunch of kids come from inner city Tacoma from a YMCA group. I've been told they all have major attitude, but I don't care. It's exciting. :D

Now I can go back to Sarge.

This last week, I took the NRA Basic Firearm Training and Home Safety Course. These included a lot of lecture hours, and it was all very interesting, just a lot of information for four days. Also--the best part--we went out to the range and got to shoot .22 rifles in various positions, eventually shooting for record. (I earned both pro-marksman and marksman this week. Don't ask me what that means...I don't really know! :-P )

Anyhow, it was a lot of fun, and I'm really glad that I passed all four tests yesterday, which means that I'll be one of the rangemasters this summer, which also means I'll be able to go out to the range to practice whenever I want, which also means I can keep firing for record with Sarge and can keep going up in skill. But that's the ideal. I don't know if I'll have time to practice or not...but if nothing else, it's been a good learning experience.

Last summer, when I went up to visit the Cronks in AK, Tyler took me out to the firing range for part of a day and I got a crash course in firearms. Good teacher, but I'm glad I had more info. Now I know a darn lot of info about firearms--rifles in particular--and my interest in purchasing a firearm for sporting use in the future has much increased.

* * *

I'm really glad I'm at camp. I love the people who are there, and I have a good feeling I'm making some lifelong friends here. (YES!) Seriously, how can I not love people named Rising Sun, Jinxy, Chipoodle, Stiletto, and Trogdor? As for me, I am officially renamed "Hakuna Matata." Guess which song I'll be hearing all summer long...

ANYHOW: I will continue to check in once a week for the duration of the summer, so I'm not entirely cut off. Also, you can text me if you like, I just might not be able to respond quickly. Plus, there's not that great of reception over there...

PS. It's so nice to be doing something that I know God is backing. There is incredible peace and joy in that.

justice

2007-06-05T16:35:00.000-07:00

Justice

I believe all children have a strong sense of right and wrong, fair and unfair. Their cry for justice often revolves around who got the bigger cookie or who got to stay up later than whom, but their determination to see the right thing done does not stop at petty, everyday occurences. When children are confronted by the bigger issue, they adamantly proclaim what is right and they hate the bad guy for getting away with what he did.

Perhaps this is why, as children, we wanted to grow up to be superheroes, firemen, and policeman. And perhaps this is why God tells us to be childlike before we can enter into the kingdom of heaven...

For me, I was one such child. Then, as I grew older, I began to see injustices with a blasé attitude. "Hey, that happens to everyone, why let myself get worked up over it, right?" "A lot of people endure hardships like poverty and genocide." "What's the big deal?" I am ashamed that I have felt that way on so many different occasions.

Recently--and by "recently," I mean within the last few years--I have had my attention drawn to the plight of women and children who are taken advantage of simply because they can't stand up for themselves. In particular, this awareness has come with the emphasis our university has had with efforts to help stop human trafficking.

Yesterday, when I was reading my Bible, I read several chapters in Exodus talking about justice, doing the right thing regardless of circumstances. In Micah, we are asked what God requires of us: to act justly, love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God. Over and over, God tells His people to plead for the case of the widow and the oppressed. We are to be kind to foreigners because once we were oppressed in a foreign land.

So why are we not doing what we are told to do? Why am I not getting a law degree so that I can help people in the real world? Really, how much good is an English degree going to do someone who's been sold into prostitution at the age of five? I don't think that hearing about how Lacan would perceive a certain literary work would do anything to erase the hurt and humiliation inflicted on body, heart, mind, and soul.

wow

2007-06-04T21:33:00.000-07:00

Today was a hard day. It was a stretching experience full of, well, bad moments and mini-miracles. I love that God can take a day that I don't really want to be a part of, and then remind me of who He is and how He loves me--and those around me too.

Random emotions throughout the day--as expressed in detail in this blog--were subtle, but very much present. I was tired and stressed by the end of the day--even though it wasn't busy. I had too many memories picking at my brain, and I needed to get away from them.

So I got back to my apartment, drank some water, added a new album to my music player, and made a deal with God. (Yeah...it sounds worse than what it actually was.) I said that I was going to go running, and then when I got back from running, when my head was clear, I would read my Bible.

I headed out to Watershed and started running. And it was great for awhile. And then partway through, all the thoughts that had been pushed to the outskirts of my mind crowded back in and I started walking, slowly, and trying to deal with them. It was very overwhelming.

At one point, I started crying, and then the music I was listening to reminded me of who God is. And as I listened to the music, I began to pray more, claiming who God is and how He is worthy to be praised in the midst of all the crap of my life. Then I claimed His promises that He has made to me, that everything will be okay. And then I was able to run again, with joy, and I finished up my run, praying and praising.

Also, I saw about seven or eight rabbits along the trail--the most I've ever seen on the trail. I felt loved, which sounds odd, but seeing the random rabbit on the trail was like a miniature love note from God. Like a lover bringing you fuzzy slippers on a bad day, only they were real bunnies. ;)

Anyhow, after my run--a total of an hour and 2+ miles--I did come back to the apartment with a clear head, and a light heart, and I read my Bible for an hour, which was great. Every time I stop reading my Bible and then come back to it, I remember how great it is to read it and I wonder why I keep forgetting how much peace comes from spending time with God.

In short, God is amazing. I love Him. We're good. :)

altruism vs. pessimism and the balance between

2007-06-04T15:25:00.000-07:00

I have a severely disappointed altruistic spirit. I always think the best of people, and then I find that people stab each other in the back repeatedly.

Is it human nature to be so downright cruel? I mean, really, do we need to talk badly of people when they anger us? Do we need to be nasty? Is it inevitable that we will harp on others?

Also, when we desire to put distance between us, does that have to take the form of snotty coldness? Or is there a kinder way of separating?

And yes, I am guilty of all of this behavior, and it's just as disappointing--if not more so--in me as in others...

I very much feel like Jane Bennett in P&P, but not quite so naive. I can recognize when people are being total jerks, but I still hope for the best when behavior is questionable and not fully black and white. But for some reason, I never expect people to be totally underhanded/deceitful as they can be.

Totally different thought:

Why are there certain guys who have groupies, or as I like to call it, a harem? Why are there these individuals who attract girls like bees to nectar? Are they genuine, or are they complete frauds?

And, for the record, I hope to never be one of those groupies who gazes in addled admiration at her idol. I do not want to be so enchanted by a guy that I cannot see his flaws or be willing to correct him when he needs it. (Side note: I hope I only have true friends who will also correct me when I need it. I'm more afraid of making an ass of myself than of being corrected.)

For this matter, I hope I don't end up being one of those girls who flocks to another girl who is popular for whatever reason. I don't like the idea of seeing any one person as amazing over every one else. I think it's total bollocks to see people like that.

Yes, some people are infinitely more talented and congenial than others, but that doesn't mean that they are perfect or deserve that sort of honor. Speak well of them, treat them with respect, but for the love of all things sane, please treat them as another human being above all and remember Who deserves your praise and admiration wholly. (Hint: He's supernatural...)

PS. I do not want to conform any longer. I want to break from the mold, go out on a limb, and trust God with all my heart, body, and soul. I'm tired of fully trusting in people and getting hurt. This does not mean that I will be skeptical/cynical of all people. That's not the point. My point is that I want to keep God first and foremost because then, when people inevitably will hurt me, I'll be able to recover.

senses

2007-06-04T12:49:00.000-07:00

Earlier today, I listened to a few seconds of the coffeepot percolating like a wheezing, asthmatic Darth Vader. (I swear, if Star Wars decides to jump on that merchandising bandwagon, we'll get Vader helmet-shaped coffeepots at some point.) Later, I was listening to Enya's mood music in the bookstore. Mellow, trance-inducing, all over relaxing. Now, the clock ticking, and the quiet rush of freeway traffic.

Tastes of the day: Doritos, coffee, water, chocolate covered almonds, quesadillas, and peanut butter. (Ok, the peanut butter is figurative because today has felt like a "swimming through peanut butter" day. I guess I left my mouth open.)

The smell of rain on asphalt. I dunno why, but it's pretty refreshing. There was the coffee earlier, and various people scents--laundry detergent, perfume, cologne, the human body. I'm not opposed to human body smells. (Flatulence being the exception.) Maybe it's because I grew up in Africa and I'm used to smelling people as they smell naturally. No added scents--just people. This is probably the same reason why, when I smell the fish market at Pike's Place, my heart automatically squeezes for home.

Swahili proverb: "You can't wash the dust of Africa from your feet." How true it is. Africa will always remain in my heart, even if I never go back.

For the entire morning and the beginning of the afternoon, I had a pounding headache in my brain's left hemisphere. Any sudden movement requiring additional blood to be pumped through my head stabbed throbs of agony into my head. This, in turn, required me to pause, grab my head, and try not to swear out loud. But then, as I complained after taking medicine and drinking coffee and having no results, Ronda prayed for me and less than 30 seconds later, the headache was gone. I guess I forget that God works in the small miracles as well as the large. (And I'm a big proponent of prayer, too!)

I also feel soreness in my outer pectorals. I don't know how else to describe it. It's the muscles between my shoulders and breasts. I guess that'd be outer pecs, right? ;) (Yep, me and anatomically correct terminology go hand in hand.) I did a bunch of pushups yesterday after running--two sets of ten reps each--and yesterday, I didn't feel a thing. Today, well, let's just say I'm not clamoring to help lift heavy boxes! :)

Things I've seen today: people. Went to the post office with Tyler, saw the mail clerks. Apparently--and here is why I am CLUELESS when it comes to guy/girl relationships--one of the clerks was hitting on me. Me, I just thought he was being nice. (I usually go to him when I'm on bookstore business because the boxes are typically too heavy for the female clerks to manage.) Tyler, on the other hand, pointed out that he was hitting on me, and had been checking me out in the line. I don't know about that...but again, I am apparently very clueless.

Well, I need to go look at some books and probably a lot of papers. Maybe I'll feel their textures, too, and get a whiff of paper and glue at the bindings, hear their pages rustle softly as I verify information... ;)

2007-05-26T22:17:00.000-07:00

...how I feel, but, well, patience needs to be exercised. And I need to be where I am now.

Question:

2007-05-24T22:07:00.001-07:00

So what's the deal with masturbation?

This topic is prevalent throughout our society. It's splashed all over the media, tips and advice are sanctioned in magazines and on the internet, and does the church address it? At all?

Hardly.

Oh, and how come when guys masturbate, people sort of titter behind their hands, roll their eyes, smile, and say, "Oh they're boys, what do you expect?" Well, if you're going to tell women NOT to do it, then maybe maintaining the same bloody standard would be a good place to start!

I don't care if guys handle their penises from the time they start to potty train so that they're aware of these sensations. And I don't care that there's a biological need to expel semen from their bodies. God happened to create a natural way for this to happen. (Hm...God gave us sexual bodies and a way to actually avoid temptation? No way!)

You would think that one of these days the double standard applied to the human species would be lifted.

Example:

Men:
Have sex! Have lots of sex! After all, you're MEN. You're horny, and that's normal! So go hump something! Heck, go hump LOTS of things!
Sincerely,
"Society"

*ahem*

Women:
You are either a virgin or a whore. Sorry, there's no middle ground. Oh, and since you're such a vile creature, we'll just circumcise you to get rid of those evil desires...*cut, snick, stitch* Yep, no room for sexual pleasure now!

To put it bluntly: what the hell?!

I'm sorry, but I'm sick of this hypocrisy. Either it's wrong for everyone, or it's fine for everyone. I don't see this as a grey issue between the genders. Oh, and before I receive the hate mail from guys complaining that I "just don't know what it's like," I would like to agree. It's true. I'm not a male. But that doesn't mean that I don't have sexual urges or temptations of other kinds that are equally hard to evade. I don't believe that guys have the monopoly on temptation.

In the meantime, if you can't give a darn good answer to this issue, keep your hands away from your genitals.

kids say the darnedest things!

2007-05-23T10:52:00.000-07:00

Ok, so my boss sent me this, and it's just too hilarious! :)

a new twist

2007-05-17T20:48:00.000-07:00

I've been examining a certain culture lately--the Maori of New Zealand. If you've been reading my blog since its inception, you will know that I have been interested in the Maori culture since last summer, when I was interested in learning the haka--I can check that off my list now!--and really wanted to go to NZ just to experience the Maori firsthand.

Well, in my research, I was looking up textiles, artifacts, images, etc., and I stumbled upon an image of a Maori necklace. When I clicked on the image, I found the hunger site, which I've discovered before, and realized that this necklace was for sale.

Something from the Maori culture? That I can buy without having to go to New Zealand? Dude...out came the debit card and I bought it then and there. (And hey, food was donated by the purchase--or so they claim--so I felt few qualms about the purchase.)

[Side note: these sister stores--hunger site, breast cancer site, rainforest site, literacy site, child health site, animal rescue site--all provide the most interesting items for purchase in order to fund these various charities. Since they are "giving" to the rest of the world, they offer unique gifts from all over the place. Seriously, some of the coolest stuff is on these sites. If you're looking for a cool present, look no further!]

Today, I checked my mailbox and the necklace had arrived--super fast since I just purchased it Monday. I put it on tonight, and I'm pretty sure that it's going to become the necklace that I wear all summer long and probably won't take off for a good long time. Plus, since it's made of carnelian, it will get redder in the sunlight. (I hope so, because with summer coming up, that's so exciting!)

There's a lot of meaning to this necklace and, as an English major, I'm all about symbolism. The twist represents the joining of two people forever, how no matter where life takes them, they'll always come around to each other again, sharing their lives once more. I would assume that this would typically be used for lovers or "bosom" friends. Well...being at a lack for both of those in this world--to some extent--I chose to purchase the necklace for another reason.

Lately, I've been going through some soul searching. Well, it's more like God-searching. I'm in a time where I'm pressing in to God, developing intimacy with Him. This looks like it's going to be a slow process because I am slow to trust and, well, relationships with God are all about trust--and grace. So in symbolism of my learning to love God even more, I chose to buy this necklace in hopes that it reminds me of our relationship.

argh

2007-05-11T13:20:00.000-07:00

I just googled that word and discovered this: the argh page.

key to happiness

2007-05-10T14:00:00.000-07:00

I have discovered that element in life which brings me happiness, and that element is exercise--preferably in the form of dance. (Note: this is different from joy. Joy I find only in the Lord and in all those gifts that come from Him.)

Last night in my room--really late--I was bored, so I put on some music, a full skirt, a sassy headscarf, and danced. I didn't dance like no one was watching--even though no one was--but I danced as if I had an appreciative, energetic audience or as if I was at a Mediterranean party in full swing, complete with spontaneous dancing. (What's a party without spontaneous dancing after all?) Call me a complete goofball, but I think I want to crash a Mediterranean party like that.

Partway through the dancing, I changed into my pjs and changed the music. It went from gypsy/Mediterranean to girl power rock. I temporarily wore my hooker boots--knee high black platform boots that lace up the front. After all, what's girl power rock without hooker boots? :) Have to admit, probably a good thing no one was actually watching me dance around in a tank top and short shorts with boots! (Would've scarred them for life...)

Eventually I went to bed, still kinda giddy, and then woke up today still in a giddy mood--even before coffee!--and kinda flirty. Probably a good thing there aren't available guys around. I could get myself in trouble with this mood!

This next bit has nothing to do with dancing or happiness, although it was still cool. I randomly googled an mk friend of mine last night, and stumbled on a podcast of him preaching a sermon. He's several years older than me--and more of an acquaintance rather than a friend--and he's already graduated from college--ORU--credentialed, and a missionary in Burundi. His parents--who I know better--were my guardians while I attended RVA in Kenya. Anyhow, it was really funny hearing how much he sounds like his dad.

It was really exciting to hear him preach because he's very much like me--missionary kid from Africa, grown up in a different culture, speaks multiple languages, loves missions. I've always promised myself, however, that I don't want to go where my parents have gone. I love Africa, but I don't see myself returning to there.

Ironically, yesterday I was in my ARD's office, glancing through a book of portraits from National Geographic, and it put me in a conundrum. These pictures came from all over the world--Paraguay, Afghanistan, Mauritania, India, France, USA, Australia--and every picture made me want to go to those places to see those people.

God, how am I ever to know where You want me when I want to go everywhere?! No specific place, no specific action pulls at my heart any stronger than the others. I know when the time is right, You'll point me in the right direction, but it can be so hard to wait patiently when I want to know now.

this has absolutely nothing to do with anything

2007-05-09T23:18:00.000-07:00

final project(s)

2007-05-01T23:45:00.006-07:00

Tonight I turned in my portfolio for Genres. The focus I chose for the semester was memoir, in which I tended to exorcise some of my personal demons. My favorite piece that I submitted in my portfolio I now submit to you, my readers.

"Faith and Thumbtacks"

Artist and writer Mary Anne Radmacher said, "Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'" I know nothing about Radmacher. In fact, until I googled this quote, I would have attributed it to the creative genius Anonymous, which is a pseudonym taken from the Greek, meaning "the author of everything that no one can really claim as their own."

Regardless of a person's life, whether he or she spent his or her formative years permanently in a church pew or living the prodigal lifestyle, that person will experience regret. Certainly, not all remorse is the same. Everyone deals with their conscience differently. Some people experience guilt for taking a pen from the doctor's office whereas others hardly blink an eye at murder. But at some point, each non-sociopathic person will come to terms with his or herself.

My ex-boyfriend's mother, Laura, introduced me to Radmacher’s quote about courage at a time when I was ready to quit. Fall semester of my junior year in college, I was wrestling with my past, especially in light of how the mental sexual baggage was affecting my present and would continue to impact my future. Everywhere I turned, specters from my past haunted me—in classes, in friendships, in family affairs. I felt trapped, weighed down by my poor sexual choices, by what had been done to me, and by the overwhelming sense that I would never be freed from the guilt, shame, and fear so closely tied to abuse and its successive behaviors.

At that point in my life, when Laura shared with me, I wanted nothing more than to run away from my past, to keep denying its existence. After all, from my perspective, the past was a permanent stain on the fabric of my life. No one could remove the blemishes—not even God. In fact, if God were truly there, and had been there all throughout my life, then why had He allowed these things to happen?

Various doubts crept into my mind, taking root in the uncertainty I felt in relation to my past abuse. Now that I’d admitted to it, how do I deal with it? Was my insistence that it wasn’t really abuse evidence of the Stockholm Syndrome? If that was the case, was my sister actually a cold-hearted villain or was she truly a victim like me? Was I merely playing a role in dating at the time, or was I actually drawn towards lesbianism? Was it best to deal with it, or keep suppressing it?

I cried out in anguish and despair. I shed tears of bitter fury. I wallowed in self-hatred and humiliation. The feelings that I had always repressed inundated the floodgates I had carefully constructed and barricaded over the years, and there was seemingly no end to them. They just kept pouring into my mind, battering my heart like a toy boat caught in a hurricane.

In the past year and a half since I admitted to my past, I have cried like I have never cried in my entire life. (I always saw crying as a sign of weakness, and I have so desperately tried to be strong in and of myself throughout my life.) I have prostrated myself on the floor, weeping before God, crying out for remission. I have cried in the arms of my parents, on my (then) boyfriend’s chest, into my pillow, and in front of school assemblies at weekly Monday night worship services. But all the tears seemed to bring nothing but headaches, exhaustion, swollen eyelids, and a flushed face.

The barrage of emotions became too much for me to handle on my own, and I gave in to the negativity that swirled around me. I embraced every foul whisper that echoed in my empty soul, rejecting any truth that was spoken in the midst of my pain. I chose to live in the darkness that clouded around me, and at that point, I chose to hurt myself.

I had never understood cutting or self-injury of any kind, but I began to cut—first with scissors, then deepening the marks with thumbtacks. The idea of taking a sharp object and willing slicing through supple flesh to reach some kind of release simply did not compute prior to my own experience. But there was a point in my life that I did not understand girls staying in horrible relationships either. Now, I am grateful for having experienced these various tragedies, as my field of empathy has expanded as a result.

Somewhere in my depression, I decided that since I was a horrible person, I should be treated horribly. I secretly hoped that cutting would scare off those who seemed to care for me. I did my best to turn people against me. I didn’t want to be loved anymore—I certainly didn’t feel worthy of love. Simply put, love and purity cannot remain where lust and pollution reside. And yet, when my greatest efforts to spurn people harvested an even stronger commitment, I gave up. I sought help from a professional counselor, and willingly gave up my sharp objects, choosing to take the first steps towards healing.

Every day when I woke up, I had the choice to return to the negative mindset that would eventually destroy me, or to focus on God’s promises—the light at the end of my tunnel of depression. It was difficult, and I did not want to choose life. I would have preferred to die and end all the inner torment, but God remained faithful as I took my hesitant steps of renewed faith. Many days, I chose to revert to the darkness that surrounded me. At the end of those days, I felt discouraged, that somehow I had managed to add one more tally mark to my failure scorecard. But at those times, I was reminded of Laura telling me about choosing to try again on the morrow.

And I did try again. And again. And again.

There was no miraculous cure for my depression—it was a painful process to walk through. Usually, God works subtly through our pain and walks us through the hardship so that we learn from our experiences and grow stronger. In my life, God used key people to intervene. He aligned circumstances to bring the right people into my life when He knew I would need them the most. And then, when I realized where I was and how far I had run, He welcomed me back softly, reminding me that faith doesn’t always roar. Sometimes, it’s the tentative, yet courageous, step towards the truth that you know is real—even though you don’t see it.

because nothing helps break writer's block better than Star Wars...

2007-05-01T10:54:00.000-07:00

the wild savage in me struck

2007-04-30T20:13:00.001-07:00

This afternoon/evening, Prof. Bill Owen hosted a bbq at his crib (haha...I just said "crib") for the choirs he directs. I went with some girls from our floor, and it was uber fun. Dude, any time that I can get off campus and get mostly homemade food, I'm so there!

Well, at Bill's house, there's a communal green for the development behind his yard, which is surrounded by houses and tall trees. In one of these tall trees hangs a rope to which is attached a large stick so that people--namely college students--can swing wildly on it.

At first, I wasn't going to try it, but then I did and it was tons of fun. We were all taking turns, getting pushed, swinging about wildly. I guess I went one too many times because the last time I swung, my arms decided to give out at the peak of my swing and I fell. (But please spread it around that I "jumped." *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*)

Once I hit the ground, I realized that I was fine--at least in one piece. Everyone thought that I'd jumped because a bunch of the guys had been--go figure ;) --but I confessed to having fallen. I have some minor scrapes on my hands from the wood on the swing, but the painful injury is my right thumb, which is swelling up and hurts to move.

How can I type, you might be thinking. I think the ice pack has something to do with it. I can't grip with my thumb, but I can pound it on a keyboard with the most determined of the bloggers.

Anyway, it was really fun to be outside, running around in the light rain, barefoot and carefree. And then I came back to school where internet still doesn't work in my room, and the reality of end of term finals came back to me. So onward to revising my genres pieces with an ax. Muahahahahaha!!!!!

(crossposted from myspace...)

I got dem end time blues

2007-04-26T14:21:00.000-07:00

My apologies for caricaturistic language in the subject line. If it offends you, well, I don't care. I'm past giving a shrew's toenail about pretty much everything. Moving on.

You know it's the end of the semester when:

1. Your head has not stopped spinning from exhaustion in the past week and a half. (This is different from being dizzy.)

2. People need to repeat themselves constantly because you "didn't quite catch it" the first, second, or third time around. (This is a problem when part of your job involves answering phones and dealing with customers.)

3. You have four shots of coffee before 9:45am and you still feel below your normal functioning level. (Typically, four shots would have me bouncing off the walls in hyperproductivity.)

4. You suffer from insomnia and rearrange your collection of Christmas song lyrics, misreading "O Holy Night" as "O Holy Shit." (I must attribute this to another unfortunate soul--but it's a fantastic example of how the end of the semester attacks your brain!)

5. You arrange a meeting with the dean of the school of ministry in hopes to do something about that one professor's class. (A perk from making the appointment: hugs from both Luanne and Steve Chandler. Yay for pseudo parents!)

6. You have a perpetual headache clinging to the nerves around your eyes and your left eye has a perpetual twitch from a lack of sleep. (Note: I feel like microscopic gnomes have taken jackhammers to my optical nerves.)

7. Your spinning head develops into a case of dizziness as you type out this blog. (I know that I am stationary, but I feel like my head is turning in circles. Perhaps I should take that nap now...?)

8. You put in two full hours at work and then call it a day because you're so tired that you can hardly move. (Best thing about working in the bookstore, my managers understand about the end of the semester and give me grace on job time commitments.)

9. Everything, and I mean everything, induces hysterical laughter accompanied by tears. I didn't think that the end of last semester would repeat itself, but here I am, Fall '06 take two!

10. A horrible cold is hovering in the wings, waiting to pounce when I least expect it. This will most likely occur once I finish with the semester and have time to sleep again.

And now: to bed.

changes

2007-04-25T17:21:00.000-07:00

God knows me quite well, I will admit. (Go figure, He made me...He ought to know!) He's been changing my plans right and left for a few months now, but one thing I just realized was that He made a gradual shift in the plans. I'm guessing that's because if He'd done it all at once, I would have gone bonkers and turned away from Him--at least temporarily--refusing to trust Him. As is, I'm gradually trusting Him as the plans change.

Also, I just realized that there's no need for me to worry about the future. In fact, I haven't been making any plans for awhile now. I just had a thought about, "Well, what about next year while I'm in school and working...where will that be?" And then it dawned on me that I don't need to worry about the future, if I'll be able to continue working at the bookstore while being an RA or not. God knows the future, and He's in control. If that's the case, why should I worry?

I get so easily distracted from the here and now when I worry. I end up thinking about everything but what's going on all around me at this moment, and when my attention is divided, I'm not very effective where I'm at. Since my desire is to be used of God for His purposes, I need to be present where I'm at and not in twenty billion different places and times.

This is also teaching me about contentment vs. complacency. Hmm. Now there's a topic I can sink my sharp little eye teeth into...but not at this time. No, that's something I need to reflect and understand better first.

awkward turtle

2007-04-24T16:48:00.000-07:00

Hypothetically speaking: when your brother-in-law ends a phone conversation with "I love you, goodbye," how should you take it? Normal brothers-in-law do that, right? It's not just a thing that an ex-boyfriend/now brother-in-law would do?

Also, again, hypothetically speaking, should you get suspicious of any unnecessary attention paid to you by said brother-in-law with whom you have an unfortunate past? AND, should you feel weirded out that he tends to disappear from inside the house right around the time you go to your bedroom and close the door, but you can hear him walking around outside, close to your window?

Am I just paranoid?!

Okay, so I probably should have brought up the contents of the second paragraph over Christmas break--and again over spring break--but I didn't want to read into anything and just wrote it off as "the guy of the house" checking around outside to make sure that the females inside would be safe. But in light of recent creepy-esque events--see paragraph 1--I'm going back to the idea of "is my brother-in-law a voyeur?" Sick...but I wouldn't put it past him.

A friend of mine here at school knows him as well, and knows him to be the manipulative, self-seeking, arrogant shmuck that he is, which is funny because I'd almost forgotten that he was passing himself off as a cancer victim for awhile. (Tell me again, why the heck did I date the jerk?! Was I THAT desparate?! I would like to write it off as naivete...and at least I got out of it when I realized how much of a flake he was. [unlike my sister who eloped with him a few months later, but I'm NOT going in to that now])

So yeah, I'm officially weirded out by my brother-in-law, the pathological liar. I am just glad that he lives in California now, and I only see him when I'm down there.

Other awkwardness: I think I have an "admirer" on campus. (Again, could be paranoid suspicion.) I hope that I'm wrong, because the last thing I want to deal with this semester is a guy crushing on me. Actually, I might have two...but hopefully I'm mistaken there as well. (God, please let it not be so!)

Any insight? PLEASE comment!

venture into art

2007-04-23T01:50:00.000-07:00

Controversial British graffiti artist Banksy uses his art to make a point about society. Some of his favored themes addressed include world poverty, anti-war, non-conformity, and human rights. In his exhibits, he tends to use live animals. (See the "elephant in the room" exhibit that was intended to draw attention to world poverty.)

On his website, Banksy includes cuttings from papers and magazines that reference his work. One such article discusses how an animal rights activist chained herself to an exhibit in which he used live farm animals. She is quoted as saying:

It is disgusting that these animals are being used as a blank canvas. This is one of the worst cases of exploitation that I have ever come across. They are being kept in cramped conditions just for the purposes of entertainment--it's disgraceful.

I wonder what this activist has to say about human trafficking.

Freud

2007-04-11T09:19:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make, and I'm a little uncomfortable admitting it out loud. It might take me awhile to get to it. Okay, I think I'm ready.

*breathes*
*exhales*

I do not have penis envy.

I know. It's really shocking. Please, take a moment and collect yourself. I need a moment myself to recover from such an unheard of fact that an English major at a liberal arts college just might not follow the great psychoanalist himself and blindly agree with every theory Freud ever created, especially when it concerns literature.

Point 1: today in world masterpieces, we discussed a satire by Rokeya Hossein called "Sultana's Dream" in which Hossein proposes a reversal of the purdah system. (i.e. the men are secluded, not the women in this Islamic society)

Point 2: the piece was written and published in 1905, well after Freud began his quacked out methods and at a time in which he was very much in vogue

Point 3: at one point in the story, Hossein mentions that in "Ladyland"--where the dream takes place--the women took away the guns and swords that the men used to fight with, saying that they preferred to fight with the power of their minds instead of brute force

So, being in a class half full of English majors, someone felt the need to point out that guns and swords are phallic symbols (Point 3). I had the nerve--gasp!--to question the intentionality of inserting Freudian imagery into a piece written by a woman in Bangladesh. Oh my.

One of my fellow majorific friends decided to jump on the opposing bandwagon and cite Point 2 in a highly argumentative tone in which her cheeks flushed in indignation, saying that it was highly likely that Hossein would have at least been exposed to Freud--or psychoanalytic writings--by the time she wrote this piece.

As I dislike heated debate in classes with overzealous argumentative folks, I chose not to continue the argument, but then pointed out non-phallic Freudian symbolism of the women harnessing the power of the sun--sun=male, moon=female--to conquer the invading hordes. Yeah, so we read into that and then the class wound down.

My focus of this blog is that I'm so sick of Freud. Yes, I embraced Freudian analysis last semester in literary criticism because--why?--he is SO EASY to use. You can read Freudian imagery into bloody everything. For crying out loud, let's just read into the patriarchal society in the Bible and say that Moses' staff was used as a symbol of God's power. (Hm. That's actually an interesting conclusion...but not the point.)

The point being that there are hundreds of ways to interpret any number of literary works--we had a whole semester of learning about them, and we couldn't cover more than about six or eight--so why must we always return to Freud like a dog to its own vomit? Why can't we use our brains--granted the class is at 8am--and approach a piece from a different perspective?

Next time we discuss something in class, I'm putting in extra work and finding a more fitting method of interpretation that does NOT use Freud and his stupid sexual fixations. (Yes, that was purposeful inclusion of Freudian terminology.)

oh wow...

2007-04-09T21:24:00.000-07:00

It's like the Blue Man group...only better! :)

ninjelephant

2007-04-09T01:07:00.000-07:00

This makes me happy :)

I like pie

2007-04-05T17:43:00.000-07:00

The meaning to the lyrics of the song 'American Pie.' (Funny, I thought the lyricist was just on LSD...)

crock pot

2007-04-02T13:19:00.000-07:00

In Shakespeare's Hamlet, there is a much quoted line spoken by Polonius. "This above all to thine own self be true." Of course, Polonius is an inconsistent flake. But even an idiot can stumble on something true. (And let's face it, Shakespeare liked him some irony!)

I am a people pleaser at heart. I don't like conflict. I don't like dissension among the ranks. I'm a peace keeper--but not very good at being a peace maker. (BIG difference) I am very much a hippy, a treehugger, a free spirit, a "everywhere love" kind of person. I like my rose-tinted glasses, even though in the past few years they've slipped a bit. (I'm trying to push them back up on my nose in a healthy, balanced way.)

Now to the topic of this summer. (Ugh.) It's been weighing on my mind for a long time. What to do? I dunno! I keep pleading with God to give me more direction, and as of last night, I felt like I was still stumbling blindly into a ~~blizzard~~ sandstorm with options swirling around me, but no clear idea of where to go.

I had been planning on getting a job up in Alaska and staying with Tyler's family over the summer, which I still think would be great, and I love his family and know that they want me to come stay with them. (I haven't heard back from any of those applications yet...) Over spring break, my family in California jumped on the idea of me working down there for the summer. I think that would be great too. In either of those situations, I'd have great housing with people I know, a vehicle at my disposal, and a fun location to explore. (Very different details, but similar characteristics.)

Now if you will take a moment to read the setup: a group of people on one end who would love to have me spend the summer with them, and a group of people on the other end who would love to have me spend the summer with them. As I mentioned before, I'm a people pleaser and I feel very torn right now. What do I do? Who do I please? Who would be more upset if I don't end up with them? Who do I have more allegiance to? GAH!!!!

*pulls hair out in clumps*

So take that scenario and set it aside for a moment. Let me rabbit trail for awhile, but I promise I'll get back to this. (Cross my heart!)

The past week has been somewhat insane. (What's new?) I'm not going into the details, because that's not the point. Conclusion: crazy week, very emotional. One day would be a roller coaster, then the next great, then roller coaster, then great, etc.

Last night, I let everything come to a head and was freaking out. I was crying and feeling oppressed and suppressed and depressed, and...pressure! Pressure was there. But again, you don't need all the details--it was just bad.

I was half-texting a friend and I mentioned that I was stressed about the summer. She mentioned this Christian summer camp that she's applied to--and several of my other friends have applied as well. When the topic of that camp came up last week, I was vaguely interested, and mentioned that then. But after awhile, I wasn't very interested at all. So I stopped pursuing it after a brief overview of the camps.

I stopped texting and remained in high anxiety mode for awhile. Then I texted my other friend who had an application on hand for the camp. I told her that I was still interested in applying--if possible. She replied that she'd bring me the application right away, which I thought was odd since it was late last night--12:15 or so.

It's funny how as soon as this mini conversation happened, I felt utter peace. One minute, I felt so overwhelmed that I'd begun to cut again--I only mention this to show the contrast--and the next minute, the tears were gone, and I couldn't conjure up a single negative emotion. I met with Shoshana in the lounge then, and we talked for a little while, then I went back to bed and lay there, soaking in the peace that was there.

I woke up this morning with the same peace, but talking with God, I said, "Okay, right now I'm fine, but in a little while, I'm getting out of bed and out of my room, and I have to face all that crap that beat me over the head yesterday." But the peace lasted, praise the Lord! (I was cranky for awhile due to low blood sugar, however.)

This blog is getting long, and I apologize, but there's still more to say on this topic, so if you've read this far, kudos, my faithful reader!

I want to expand on the possibility of working at this camp this summer. It is a Christian camp, for one, so it would be a positive spiritual environment. There would be NATURE all around me the entire time there--yay!--and it would be tons of fun. Plus, I'd get to work with kids and teenagers again, and get paid to do it. (Dude, that rocks in my opinion!) I don't foresee it stressing me out, either. And ministry. HELLO! I'd be actively ministering to kids and youth who are so desperately seeking.

Another thing is that it isn't for the entire summer, only part of it. This way, I'd be able to live here at NU for part of the summer, keep working at the bookstore and keep making some cash. That would be ideal because then I wouldn't have to stress about where to put my junk all summer. I could move over to summer housing at the end of the semester, and then gradually store things as I needed to. (As is, I don't have the time to get stuff packed up and in storage before potentially heading off to wherever after grad.)

Furthermore, I'd be more centrally located and would be able to work on floor things for next year, like decorations. This doesn't seem like a big thing, but I was seriously stressing about that since I'm going to have two days between RA training and new student orientation in the fall to move in to my room and decorate the floor. So in that respect, I can chill a bit more and work on that during the summer without needing to transport pre-made decorations from another state. *whew*

At this point, I can't think of anymore reasons, but I keep going back to the peace that I have about that possibility, and I'm praying that God will continue to open/close doors as necessary for this summer. Oh wait, another big reason why I like the idea of the camp...if I was still here this summer, I could still go to counseling for at least part of it, which I still need every now and then.

[lengthy period of going to choir, then talking with a mentor]

Okay, after bouncing all this off my sounding board downstairs and coming back to it all with fresh eyes, I still feel a lot of peace about this decision. Good. Moving on!

Oh, and in case the introductory paragraphs of this blog don't seem to tie in: I realized that I couldn't please everyone else about what I did with my life this summer. I need to do what I feel God is telling me to do. (And that is being true to myself.)

double dosage

2007-03-31T21:30:00.000-07:00

So I read this comic and started laughing outloud because I thought, "Ah, the future of all English majors!" And then I stopped and realized, "I'm going to be a missionary." Which is worse...? :)

Good thing I have a Friend in the finances department!

my hero (I MET HER!!!!)

2007-03-31T00:18:00.001-07:00

During Genres this week, one of my classmates mentioned that Anne Lamott would be in Seattle this week, doing a promo for her newest book Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith. This totally rocked my socks off because I was introduced to Lamott's writing this semester via Genres.

I've only had the privilege of reading Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, but it was like reading a journal of the inner workings of my mind at some points. Her genuine spirit, her willingness to be bluntly, candidly real in her books shook me awake to authenticity. (We need so much more of it!)

Well, tonight, I went to hear her speak at First Baptist Church in Seattle. (For future reference: First Baptist is on the corner of Seneca and Harvard. [And online directions suck.]) Meghan came with--yay!--and we met up with Princess there. Unfortunately, as Seattle has the most ridiculous street layout ever imagined and produced, and since online directions SUCK, P missed the lecture/reading/q & a since she was driving around for an hour.

HOWEVER: we all met Anne Lamott. I repeat: WE MET ANNE FLIPPIN' LAMOTT. And she is everything we pictured her to be, and nothing like how we imagined at the same time. (Quote borrowed from Meghan.) In her short dreads and pink Ross vest, she seemed like the world's coolest mom ever--down to earth, but creative and willing to be straight with you at all times. (Thank you, Sam Lamott, for sharing her with us all!)

So Anne Lamott signed Princess' Ketchikan bag, shook Meghan's hand, and signed my copy of Traveling Mercies. We were so giddily foolish at having met her that everything we said made no sense, and Princess and Meghan both shrieked and jumped around once we were outside of the building. (Meghan: I can still feel her thumb on my hand! Princess: She signed my bag!!!)

Afterwards, we decided to find a place to eat. Meghan and I got to the area two hours early, so we ate dinner beforehand. Note: we ate at a restaurant called The Rosebud. Also of note (and correct me if I get this wrong, Meghan): there was a newspaper clipping proclaiming the Rosebud as a runner up in some "best gay restaurant in Seattle" contest. Thing. Honestly, I wouldn't have noticed anything if Meghan hadn't pointed that out to me. I'm so blindly naive in American culture!

Anyhow, the food was pretty good, a little unusual, and it was a fun setting. Our waiter was so over the top sweet in serving, and just a great guy. When we were about to leave, he asked us first if we were over 21, then told us about a show that he's playing at next week at Chop Suey. He described his band's style as "dark wave, sort of ghostly, sexy and romantic" and I'm leaving out a bunch of adjectives, but I give him props for self-promotion. I doubt I'll go since it's during the week and I'm way too tired these days to try to take in a rock show, let alone one that sounds so experimental. But my curiosity is indeed piqued.

But back to the three of us finding a place to eat after meeting Anne Lamott. (WE MET ANNE LAMOTT!!!) We decided the B & O Cafe was a good choice, so we headed off in search of it. Walking through Seattle is always an experience, and I love running across the interesting characters that make the Emerald City their home. For instance, we passed a goth guy who looked like a cross between Edward Scissorhands and something anime. I give him props for the vinyl trenchcoat.

The problem with choosing the B&O Cafe is that we kind of knew where we were going. So we wandered for awhile with no success. I texted a friend to figure out the street location. That helped sorta. Then we called another friend who looked up the address online. On Olive and Belmont. (The name makes sense now!) Problem: there is an Olive Street and an Olive Way, both of which cross Belmont. So...we ended up asking a Middle Eastern convenience store clerk how to get there. And then we hiked through a bunch of alleys and finally got to where we wanted to go.

I would just like to say that hanging out with Meghan and Princess tonight was the best thing I could have done. It's not that I completely disappear when I'm busy and stressed, but especially for people who aren't in the dorms, I have a hard time getting together with them. And, well, this semester has been busy and hard. Not like LAST semester, but still not super easy. Either I'm more compliant with God these days, or He's just not pushing as hard. Maybe both.

But right now, I'm too tired to contemplate or say anymore except that it was amazing, and if you ever, ever, EVER have the opportunity to hear Anne Lamott, drop everything and go.

irreplaceable

2007-03-27T13:39:00.000-07:00

I need to be reminded that I am irreplaceable. This is something that I want to grasp and embody so that next year, I'll be able to encourage the girls on my floor to see themselves as such. It's pretty difficult to convince someone that about herself when I don't believe it for myself. If there isn't conviction behind statements, they're just words.

RA-ness (see also: flipping out!!!! [but in a GOOD way])

2007-03-24T20:54:00.001-07:00

We went on our RA retreat this weekend and...OHMYGOODNESS!!!! It was so incredibly amazing! I was excited to be an RA before, but now that I know what floor I'll be on (600), who my brother floor RA will be (David), and have gotten a better feel for the position, I'm so stoked!!!! The stokage could also be from hanging out with Steen and Maggie after getting back, but I'm still really, really, really, REALLY looking forward to next year!!

*breath*

Okay, on a slightly more serious note, I was completely blown away by God this weekend. I had some qualms about some of the RAs chosen--including myself!--but after getting to know them better, hearing their hearts, and getting to talk out our visions for the floors next year, any doubts that I had are completely gone. I know that this team of RAs is going to be very strong and that we're going to have such a blast next year!

(And, for all you "I shall rain on your RA parade" people out there, don't. If you have anything negative to say, or cautionary warnings, I don't want to hear about it. Thanks!)

I'm a little overwhelmed by the amount of planning I need to get done and by the very short amount of time I'll have to move in to the floor and get settled before all the new students come for orientation. Oh the planning. Yowsers! But I have some ideas for floor themes already. I've been thinking about theme ideas since Thanksgiving, when I still wasn't positive about applying. Pray that God gives me a more specific plan for the floor--I could really use a lot more guidance in this!

I know that the next year or so of my life is going to stretch me a lot. Oh my...so much! This summer, this coming school year, it's going to be a challenge. And for once, I'm looking forward to it. I'm excited to grow and stretch and learn and pass that on to those around me! People, I get to HELP people! I get to! I have that opportunity and privilege and I feel so blessed and honored. (And nervous and scared too!) But mostly, *girly squeal* I'm just so excited!!!

no time for this

2007-03-21T17:39:00.000-07:00

I had an epiphany last night. Several thoughts/recollections/scenarios led up to it, but the point that illuminated above my head was that I don't have time for this ridiculous popularity competition that is continuously being played in life around me.

I think it's downright asinine how common a trend it is at my school to conform to the same outward standards. One must dress in the Abercrombie/Forever 21/Gap/Nordstrom's/Hollister/[insert any trendy store name here] style in order to be socially acceptable. One must maintain a preppy dress code at all times. For a girl, one must spend three hours getting ready in the morning...for an 8 o'clock class. One may not be caught wearing the same clothes two weeks in a row. God forbid that one's wardrobe is not large enough to accomodate a different outfit every day of the month.

Okay, for me, I find this lifestyle incredibly impractical. I have neither the time nor the finances to live like that. $100 for a pair of jeans? $60 for a blouse? $15 for a compact of eye shadow? I honestly don't care to waste my money on such trivial things. (And yes, I recognize that I spend $5 for COFFEE. *slaps forehead*) And as for the time issue, I'd so much rather SLEEP than waste time on making my outside look good. If I don't sleep, my insides are going to be nonfunctional, so what's the point?

I feel very indignant that there is pressure to conform to this socially acceptable "norm" at NU. I didn't realize that coming to a private Christian university would be so much like becoming a clone. I've somewhat conformed, and it bothers me. I am uniquely made, why do I feel like I need to be like everyone else? There are students on campus who, as my manager puts it, "march to the beat of a different drum," and I absolutely love that about them. They dress the way they want to, act the way they want to, and they don't care about the standards preset by the large majority of the student body. Kudos to individuality!

Let me add that I don't look at those students who have seemingly conformed and think in disgust, "Ugh. Clones." I don't think that these students are bad people. I don't think that they're brainless or shallow. (Well, some of them are shallow, but not most.) Y'know, if you can afford the time and money to primp yourself up every day--several times a day--go for it. I commend you for your time management skills.

I still don't see the point in expending that much energy into an outward appearance that is not exactly useful to God. And here's where my thoughts got deeper. I recognize that, as my grandma Ella put it, beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes straight to the bone. No matter how much I put into how I look outwardly, to God, it's not what is important. He sees my beauty and admires it--He created me, after all--but what is more important is my heart. I need to spend MUCH more time working on my inward beauty--a kind and gentle spirit for starters--before I can be much use to God.

This does not mean that God cannot use me as I am. He is GOD, after all, and He can use everything and everyone as He pleases to do so. It is really in my best interest to work on lasting beauty instead of striving after the meaningless physical qualities that will fade in time. My "girlish" figure? Once that first kid hits, it'll disappear. The unwrinkled skin? It'll only take a few more years before I start pruning up. But what will last is my character--good or bad. I think it's time for a radical makeover.

beef with art

2007-03-19T23:19:00.000-07:00

In a lot of art, Bathsheba is portrayed as some sort of temptress.

Why?!

Along those lines, women need to stop being blamed for men's downfalls. (Dude, Adam, man up already and admit you chose to eat the apple!) Overall, humans need to start owning up to their own foolish choices instead of blaming others.

encounter

2007-03-15T22:20:00.000-07:00

I was sitting outside Starbucks this evening. Although it was so cold out that I could see my breath as it came through my nostrils, I wasn't cold since I'd been walking. My fleece was dotted with raindrops, and I could see out of the corners of my eyes that my hair was frizzing like a fright wig.

Most people were inside the establishment, but someone else sat out on the patio like me. If I'm not mistaken, he's a homeless man who typically frequents the 'bucks. He was wearing a green stocking cap and a warm looking coat. (I'm glad he had something.) He had his guitar slung over his shoulder in a brown canvas carrier. We sat at opposite ends of the patio, avoiding the dripping eaves.

I was in no mood to talk with anyone at the time, which is why I chose to sit so far away. I hope he didn't take offense. :S He seemed nice enough, but he was also quiet, and I think we were both very much lost in our thoughts.

He got up at one point and walked past me. Once in the parking lot, he stopped and came back. For a second, I thought he might stop to talk with me, but he kept going to the table where he'd been sitting. I noticed that as he walked past me again, he was carrying a glass bottle. I thought that was extraordinarily polite of him not to leave it behind for the 'bucks employees to pick up. (Okay, maybe he needed the bottle for future use and wasn't just being nice.)

I almost wish that I had sat near him and talked with him. I probably wouldn't have been so lost in my thoughts, and he probably has a lot to say about life. I wish I hadn't missed the opportunity.

I don't want to "memoir" Salome and Herodias

2007-03-13T00:23:00.000-07:00

Instead, as I'm collecting my thoughts, I decided to look up tap dancing on youtube. Ah, youtube, the font of procrastination!

I have no idea where this clip comes from, but it's fascinating. I'm sure within the context of the film from which it is taken it makes a LOT more sense. :)

Another tap dancing video with an interesting setting. (I didn't know tap was a style in the harem...)