It has been a busy week or so with some big events--life events for some of my friends.
My mind has been reeling with so many different thoughts and feelings. There are things that have a hard time taking shape in my mind and so I have a hard time even beginning to express them. It seemed appropriate that on this day, the longest day of the year and first official day of summer, that I try to sort through some of these things.
This past weekend I went to Wisconsin for the wedding of two good friends. The entire trip felt surreal. I now know people who are going to be living in Wisconsin. I know people living in Illinois and I know people all over the place now--even as far as China. At one point during the reception, I was standing towards the back of the tent, watching the dance floor, with a glass (mason jar) of wine in one hand and the other hand firmly planted on my hip in the traditional Schuett stance. It was like I was watching myself, and saw more than felt myself sway a little. I was overwhelmed by the significance of the moment. This would be the last time I would see some of these people for a very long time, and all I could find myself dwelling on was how I wished a certain boy was there with me. So I was having a moment with myself, reflecting on the places life takes us and the turns we don't expect, when a friend caught me--and I'm sure it looked like I was having a moment with the wine...but it was really just a moment of introspection. The spell broke and I was left giggling, despite the serious overtures of my heart moments before.
This boy I was wishing had been there, he's probably the one you were expecting, the one who writes me letter, wasn't the one I was expecting to miss. This last year has been interesting to say the least, and while a part of me still clings to hope that we, the letter writers, will find a way to be near one another, there is still enormous room for doubt. It would be a lie to say there was no one else this year that interested me. I wish I knew the reason behind the unsent letter in my notebook...the one dated June 1, 2013. I wish I knew why it was still there, why I haven't sent it. It's not like it's full of embarrassing things, honestly it's quite hum-drum. But maybe that's why. Because I feel like I'm telling half-truths.
But then I also feel like I'm telling myself half-truths. A friend asked me this week if I was finding a way to be spiritually fed--despite my ever-present loneliness. I told her yes. A half-truth. Some days I do feel incredibly blessed and like I can feel the Hand of God in my life. But most days I feel aimless. It's almost like I'm the small child who desperately wants to be tickled, but doesn't want to be too obvious about that desire. I want that connection, that passion, that drive to learn more, but I don't want to be obvious about the search...and I have a hard time asking for help because I feel like I should be strong enough to push myself. [Lord, give me the grace to realize I am in need of shepherding.]
A couple weekends ago, one of the older gentlemen I work with at the dealership approached my desk. This particular salesman is one of my favorites, he's funny and smart and incredibly nerdy. We have a lot of common interests, and he listens to me babble on about (girly) things. He even asks me questions about how my love-life is going. In fact, he's known all along about the boy who writes me letters...and he knows about the boy I work with. Anyhow, he approached my desk and instead of asking the usual question of who things were going with the young men in my life, he blatantly asked, "Anna, what is wrong with all the men in your life? Are they all idiots that not one of them would be dating you?" I was shocked. I didn't know how to respond...so I laughed and said that I doubted that was the case. I'm still in shock over that situation...and I still don't know how to respond. It's still taking form and shape.
I've also realized that it has been nearly a year since I wrote any poetry. Why is that? Poetry has always been my form of non-fiction, of autobiography. Why am I letting this portion of my life go unmapped? This is a time of discovery, of hope, of new ground. Why am I letting it slip away?
We had writing workshop this week, and it went well. We spent quite a bit of time on my piece, but we had a lot of ground to cover there. I am excited about the story, about the things that are developing and the way characters are revealing themselves to me while I am doing mundane chores (like dishes and laundry and showering and walking the dog).
When did I become a reluctant reader? I have so many books that I want to be reading, but I'm not...I look at them and wonder what they're about, but I'm not actually reading them. I need to be in the structured setting of school again--good thing grad school is just around the corner!
That's all for tonight...there are still uncertainties, and I don't feel like I've answered any questions or resolved any inner turmoil, but at least I've laid them out.
My chest hurts when I breathe tonight...it's wasting me away...wasting me away. [Anberlin, Symphony of Blase]
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Man is a giddy thing...
It's been a good week.
I've had to laugh at myself a couple of times. Let's make a list, shall we?
1. I did the dishes--all of them. Now, I know this seems like a menial task, and it is. There's something about it though. The idea of washing dishes really makes me dread going into the kitchen, but once I start and I put the first clean pot on the towel to dry it just feels so purifying. It gives me time to stop thinking about all of the other things that are distracting me and allows me to get right to the heart of me. That personal reflection time is good for my introverted self.
2. On Tuesday, I just couldn't get away from all of the distractions--the tangible ones like the TV and my computer. Do you ever feel that way? Like technology is strapping you down and making you waste time and sucking away your productivity? I do. And it's everywhere. I needed to get some writing, and I wanted to--I needed to unplug and just be with the pen and paper for a while. So...I decided that I was going to soak my feet in the tub. I basically moved my "office" (I don't have an office, who am I kidding?) into the bathroom. For obvious reasons, my computer can't sit with me on the edge of the tub. My iPod did come with me though so I could play some music with its small speaker and cut the silence. It was a strange thing, going to the bathroom to get away from all of the distractions. I just wish it was more comfortable to sit on the edge of the tub....
3. We're having a garage sale! I have a lot of stuff (and a good part of it can just go away). About every summer I try to do a deep clean of my room...Last summer I got about half way done and gave up. So, now with a garage sale date in mind, I've been begun the purge again. I went through my dresser yesterday...and I threw away a multitude of old socks and underpants. Seriously, why do we (maybe it's just me, but I doubt it) horde old socks? It's not like we wear them...they just take up space while the elastic really gets bad. The same with old underpants. Seriously, what do we think is going to happen to them? There isn't a fairy that comes and takes those things away like the tooth fairy...they just sit in the drawers. And most of them don't have pairs anymore either. That's just sad, put them out of their misery.
4. Last night, Daddy came into my room to see the progress...and his one comment was, "You have a lot of stuff...and you've hit your limit for bookshelves in this space." How very true. Three large bookshelves take up a lot of room. My response was, "I have enough stuff for an apartment." I really do...and the idea that "a place of my own" might be in the cards in the next year or so is really exciting. I mean, words cannot describe how fantastic that would be. Granted, I would miss eating with the folks because they do food really well...but I would really like not having to retreat to the bathroom to get some alone time to write.
5. Writing Workshop on Wednesday was wonderful. (Do you like all those w's? I do.) I knew this was going to be different then any writing experience I have had. How did I know this? Because my cousin is part of the group, and I knew she would be asking hard questions about my story. Questions with answers I had never articulated to another person. I also knew that she was going to make me really get into the grit of it--she's a teacher after all. She's used to pushing people to get good stories. This week was no exception. There were a lot of questions, and that is partly because we're getting to the meat of this story. These young women that I'm working with are truly inspirational. I love reading what they've done and sharing with them what I have. Rachel and Kaitlin have been a blessing to me this summer, more than I had anticipated...and I hope that this writing relationship will continue.
6. Rachel asked me how much I thought I would post here...I told her I was hoping for twice a week. Ha. We'll see. So far I'm not doing so hot, but I'll get there. I'm just warming up.
7. I marked all the wedding dates in my calendar, the ones that I have so far. Holy weddings, yo. Every day I get more and more behind my peers in the relationship/wedding/baby scene.... But mostly I'm okay with this. I'm not ready for all of that just yet. There are a lot of things I need to get done independently before all of that happens. Funny how our perceptions of ourselves change.
"The one who's always, and never, alone...does she even know she's the girl with the red balloon?" [The Civil Wars]
I've had to laugh at myself a couple of times. Let's make a list, shall we?
1. I did the dishes--all of them. Now, I know this seems like a menial task, and it is. There's something about it though. The idea of washing dishes really makes me dread going into the kitchen, but once I start and I put the first clean pot on the towel to dry it just feels so purifying. It gives me time to stop thinking about all of the other things that are distracting me and allows me to get right to the heart of me. That personal reflection time is good for my introverted self.
2. On Tuesday, I just couldn't get away from all of the distractions--the tangible ones like the TV and my computer. Do you ever feel that way? Like technology is strapping you down and making you waste time and sucking away your productivity? I do. And it's everywhere. I needed to get some writing, and I wanted to--I needed to unplug and just be with the pen and paper for a while. So...I decided that I was going to soak my feet in the tub. I basically moved my "office" (I don't have an office, who am I kidding?) into the bathroom. For obvious reasons, my computer can't sit with me on the edge of the tub. My iPod did come with me though so I could play some music with its small speaker and cut the silence. It was a strange thing, going to the bathroom to get away from all of the distractions. I just wish it was more comfortable to sit on the edge of the tub....
3. We're having a garage sale! I have a lot of stuff (and a good part of it can just go away). About every summer I try to do a deep clean of my room...Last summer I got about half way done and gave up. So, now with a garage sale date in mind, I've been begun the purge again. I went through my dresser yesterday...and I threw away a multitude of old socks and underpants. Seriously, why do we (maybe it's just me, but I doubt it) horde old socks? It's not like we wear them...they just take up space while the elastic really gets bad. The same with old underpants. Seriously, what do we think is going to happen to them? There isn't a fairy that comes and takes those things away like the tooth fairy...they just sit in the drawers. And most of them don't have pairs anymore either. That's just sad, put them out of their misery.
4. Last night, Daddy came into my room to see the progress...and his one comment was, "You have a lot of stuff...and you've hit your limit for bookshelves in this space." How very true. Three large bookshelves take up a lot of room. My response was, "I have enough stuff for an apartment." I really do...and the idea that "a place of my own" might be in the cards in the next year or so is really exciting. I mean, words cannot describe how fantastic that would be. Granted, I would miss eating with the folks because they do food really well...but I would really like not having to retreat to the bathroom to get some alone time to write.
5. Writing Workshop on Wednesday was wonderful. (Do you like all those w's? I do.) I knew this was going to be different then any writing experience I have had. How did I know this? Because my cousin is part of the group, and I knew she would be asking hard questions about my story. Questions with answers I had never articulated to another person. I also knew that she was going to make me really get into the grit of it--she's a teacher after all. She's used to pushing people to get good stories. This week was no exception. There were a lot of questions, and that is partly because we're getting to the meat of this story. These young women that I'm working with are truly inspirational. I love reading what they've done and sharing with them what I have. Rachel and Kaitlin have been a blessing to me this summer, more than I had anticipated...and I hope that this writing relationship will continue.
6. Rachel asked me how much I thought I would post here...I told her I was hoping for twice a week. Ha. We'll see. So far I'm not doing so hot, but I'll get there. I'm just warming up.
7. I marked all the wedding dates in my calendar, the ones that I have so far. Holy weddings, yo. Every day I get more and more behind my peers in the relationship/wedding/baby scene.... But mostly I'm okay with this. I'm not ready for all of that just yet. There are a lot of things I need to get done independently before all of that happens. Funny how our perceptions of ourselves change.
"The one who's always, and never, alone...does she even know she's the girl with the red balloon?" [The Civil Wars]
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Hold Me Fast, I'm a Hopeless Wanderer
I did not forget about my blog, honestly I didn't. I thought about coming here to relieve some of the unbidden stress, and I thought about it often. Sometimes we get going with things and we let other thing move to the back burner...and eventually they fall behind the stove. I didn't forget this was back here, but it would have taken work to move the "stove" and get the "pan" out again. What a mess.
So what has me back here, almost a year after my last post?
Thanks to my beautiful cousin, Kaitlin, I am part of a writing workshop--we should really think of a better name, like Tolkien and Lewis's Inklings. In this writing workshop there are three members: myself, Kaitlin, and Rachel.
This workshop has been just what I needed. Over the last year I've felt the itch to write, to create--the itch never goes away. And over the last year, I'm ignored the tugging, distracting myself with other things that also needed attention. I've been working on Morning Star, and Rachel and Kaitlin have been giving me awesome feedback...and I get to hear their voices as well! The stories they are weaving are important, and I hope they recognize how much I appreciate their honesty in all things.
Kaitlin is also getting married (yay!) and she asked me to be her Maid of Honor. This came as a surprise to me, I was going to be happy if she asked me to be a Bridesmaid. I am so honored and happy to work with her throughout her engagement. (There is a point to this bridal tangent, promise.) I don't think she realizes how blessed I am to take on this responsibility as it distracts from my own loneliness (I'll write more on this at a later date).
My mom and Aunt Deanna wanted to host a Bridal Shower for Kaitlin, which I was very happy to help host. (This gave me an opportunity to create decorations from papercrafting, which I loved.)
So last night we hosted this lovely party that beautiful Rachel and her mother were invited to. After several guests had cleared out, after having a lot of fun, it was mentioned that Rachel has a blog. (Which I was very pleased to receive an invite to read.) She sheepishly smiled and admitted to this blogs existence, so I told her that I also had a blog, but it had fallen into disuse.
When I got home from the party and was able to take a moment for myself, I perused her blog...and then I came back here, to this space. And I thought to myself, You silly girl, move that stupid stove and start writing again. You know you'll feel better when you do.
So here I am, I'm back, and I sincerely hope I am more faithful to this space. I will do my best.
"How fickle my heart, and how woozy my eyes. I struggle to find any truth in your lies. And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know. My weakness I feel I must finally show." [Mumford and Sons]
So what has me back here, almost a year after my last post?
Thanks to my beautiful cousin, Kaitlin, I am part of a writing workshop--we should really think of a better name, like Tolkien and Lewis's Inklings. In this writing workshop there are three members: myself, Kaitlin, and Rachel.
This workshop has been just what I needed. Over the last year I've felt the itch to write, to create--the itch never goes away. And over the last year, I'm ignored the tugging, distracting myself with other things that also needed attention. I've been working on Morning Star, and Rachel and Kaitlin have been giving me awesome feedback...and I get to hear their voices as well! The stories they are weaving are important, and I hope they recognize how much I appreciate their honesty in all things.
Kaitlin is also getting married (yay!) and she asked me to be her Maid of Honor. This came as a surprise to me, I was going to be happy if she asked me to be a Bridesmaid. I am so honored and happy to work with her throughout her engagement. (There is a point to this bridal tangent, promise.) I don't think she realizes how blessed I am to take on this responsibility as it distracts from my own loneliness (I'll write more on this at a later date).
My mom and Aunt Deanna wanted to host a Bridal Shower for Kaitlin, which I was very happy to help host. (This gave me an opportunity to create decorations from papercrafting, which I loved.)
So last night we hosted this lovely party that beautiful Rachel and her mother were invited to. After several guests had cleared out, after having a lot of fun, it was mentioned that Rachel has a blog. (Which I was very pleased to receive an invite to read.) She sheepishly smiled and admitted to this blogs existence, so I told her that I also had a blog, but it had fallen into disuse.
When I got home from the party and was able to take a moment for myself, I perused her blog...and then I came back here, to this space. And I thought to myself, You silly girl, move that stupid stove and start writing again. You know you'll feel better when you do.
So here I am, I'm back, and I sincerely hope I am more faithful to this space. I will do my best.
"How fickle my heart, and how woozy my eyes. I struggle to find any truth in your lies. And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know. My weakness I feel I must finally show." [Mumford and Sons]
Saturday, September 8, 2012
This dusty barren land had given all it could yield...
It was recently pointed out to me *cough*LeAnn*cough* that I haven't blogged in a while. I knew this was true, and I had been meaning too, honestly. My new job has left me exhausted once 3:30 hits, and I've fallen into my old napping pattern... But I keep hoping that my body will adjust to the schedule and that I'll be able to get to bed a little earlier so I can stop napping in the afternoons.
Over the last few months I've noticed that I thrive on hope. I'm sure that most of you already knew this, and it was probably something I knew for a long time but hadn't yet come to realize the entirety of its scope.
This morning it really struck me how deeply this hope runs.
I've been hoping for rain--desperately.
I've been hoping that my cousin would recover from her botched surgery well.
I've been hoping that my other cousin would pull herself together and just be okay.
I've been hoping that this "maybe someday it'll work out" would just work out.
I've been hoping that our little first grader with behavior issues would get the attention she deserves at home so she can grow into the creative girl I see lurking behind the tangled hair and eyes that haven't learned to read yet.
I've been hoping that the writing bug would just take hold of me again and never let me go.
I've been hoping.
Hoping.
Hoping.
I even surround myself with literature that emphasizes the idea of hope and I wrap it around me like a warm security blanket. And I even hope that someday my life would echo those virtues that fictional characters so easily embody: strength, loyalty, nobility, honor, courage and faith.
So it's no surprise when I see small glimmers of these things in real life that I get excited and want to capture the moments.
I have all of this hope, all of this want, but I'm still content.
Even if the rain comes just as harvest season is about to begin, at least there is moisture.
Even if my cousin had 20 units of blood transfused and got E. coli in a hospital, at least she is alive.
Even if my cousin moved back to the wretched situation that keeps throwing her to the wolves, at least she is talking to me about it and being open about the hardships.
Even if "maybe someday" isn't today, at least I have letter writing to pass the time.
Even if our little first grader was in the office again because of a tantrum, at least she is reaching out and she hugged me later and didn't want me to leave her.
Even if I'm not writing as much as I want, at least I know the story is still alive in me and it's just setting its roots a little deeper.
"Oh, Dear I never saw you coming. Oh my, look what you have done. You're my favorite song, always on the tip of my tongue." [Civil Wars, Tip of my Tongue]
Over the last few months I've noticed that I thrive on hope. I'm sure that most of you already knew this, and it was probably something I knew for a long time but hadn't yet come to realize the entirety of its scope.
This morning it really struck me how deeply this hope runs.
I've been hoping for rain--desperately.
I've been hoping that my cousin would recover from her botched surgery well.
I've been hoping that my other cousin would pull herself together and just be okay.
I've been hoping that this "maybe someday it'll work out" would just work out.
I've been hoping that our little first grader with behavior issues would get the attention she deserves at home so she can grow into the creative girl I see lurking behind the tangled hair and eyes that haven't learned to read yet.
I've been hoping that the writing bug would just take hold of me again and never let me go.
I've been hoping.
Hoping.
Hoping.
I even surround myself with literature that emphasizes the idea of hope and I wrap it around me like a warm security blanket. And I even hope that someday my life would echo those virtues that fictional characters so easily embody: strength, loyalty, nobility, honor, courage and faith.
So it's no surprise when I see small glimmers of these things in real life that I get excited and want to capture the moments.
I have all of this hope, all of this want, but I'm still content.
Even if the rain comes just as harvest season is about to begin, at least there is moisture.
Even if my cousin had 20 units of blood transfused and got E. coli in a hospital, at least she is alive.
Even if my cousin moved back to the wretched situation that keeps throwing her to the wolves, at least she is talking to me about it and being open about the hardships.
Even if "maybe someday" isn't today, at least I have letter writing to pass the time.
Even if our little first grader was in the office again because of a tantrum, at least she is reaching out and she hugged me later and didn't want me to leave her.
Even if I'm not writing as much as I want, at least I know the story is still alive in me and it's just setting its roots a little deeper.
"Oh, Dear I never saw you coming. Oh my, look what you have done. You're my favorite song, always on the tip of my tongue." [Civil Wars, Tip of my Tongue]
Saturday, August 4, 2012
You're the peace to the restless
It's been a big couple weeks in the heart of this Nebraska-girl.
Last Tuesday there was a phone call with a certain young man that lasted over 50 minutes. This soothed the fraying edges of my hopelessly romantic heart. His general concern for my well-being is comforting. Just yesterday I received a letter from said young man. These pieces of life that we keep sharing...I can't help but wonder at the greater picture. And still I pray that God's Hand sew the pieces into place without my own hand trying to force the pattern.
I also baked and delivered a cake that a new relative had ordered for her birthday. Baking is good for the hands that are itching to do. My hands have been so idle with unemployment that they were thankful for the fun task. Baking is also good for the inner homemaker in me that doesn't have a lot of opportunity to shine just yet.
This Tuesday I had an interview with one of the local elementary schools at 8 am. It had been so long since I turned in an application to the district that I had mostly forgotten about it, and had certainly thought it was a dead end. The interview went very well and I was expecting an answer sometime in the next couple days. Two hours later, I got a phone call from the administration building offering me the paraeducator position. All I could think to say was, "Wow, that was fast," to which the lady on the other end confirmed. With a thankful heart, I accepted the position and am excited to begin working with kids that are struggling with reading and math and other areas. This rejection-sick heart is glad to be accepting an offering, a calling.
When I look back at my past experience I see that God was whispering all along, Just wait, I've been preparing you for something specific. You have to trust Me to show you what you're supposed to be doing. Trust Me. And that trust was incredibly hard, but worth the wait. I've been a Writing Center tutor, I've been an administrative assistant, I've been a teacher's aid, I've been a person who struggled with reading at a young age. All of these things, and so many more, have been shaping me for this moment. God is good.
Wednesday I was able to spend some time with a few of the ladies in the family. We went to get pedicures, something I've never done before. It soothed the worry-weary heart by healing the dry-heat abused feet. There's something to be said for healthy feet--the washing and care-giving is Biblical, after all.
I fell asleep to thunder and lightning Wednesday night, and I slept easy knowing the thirsty ground was getting some much needed moisture. And this morning I was woken by thunder and lightning at 6 am, an hour before my alarm would go off, and I didn't mind at all.
My heart is abundantly thankful for the answers to so many prayers, for my heart was as thirsty as the land, and God is pouring out the rain and grace that we so desperately need. Let it rain.
"For greater things have yet to come, and greater things are still to be done in this City." [Chris Tomlin, God of This City]
Last Tuesday there was a phone call with a certain young man that lasted over 50 minutes. This soothed the fraying edges of my hopelessly romantic heart. His general concern for my well-being is comforting. Just yesterday I received a letter from said young man. These pieces of life that we keep sharing...I can't help but wonder at the greater picture. And still I pray that God's Hand sew the pieces into place without my own hand trying to force the pattern.
I also baked and delivered a cake that a new relative had ordered for her birthday. Baking is good for the hands that are itching to do. My hands have been so idle with unemployment that they were thankful for the fun task. Baking is also good for the inner homemaker in me that doesn't have a lot of opportunity to shine just yet.
This Tuesday I had an interview with one of the local elementary schools at 8 am. It had been so long since I turned in an application to the district that I had mostly forgotten about it, and had certainly thought it was a dead end. The interview went very well and I was expecting an answer sometime in the next couple days. Two hours later, I got a phone call from the administration building offering me the paraeducator position. All I could think to say was, "Wow, that was fast," to which the lady on the other end confirmed. With a thankful heart, I accepted the position and am excited to begin working with kids that are struggling with reading and math and other areas. This rejection-sick heart is glad to be accepting an offering, a calling.
When I look back at my past experience I see that God was whispering all along, Just wait, I've been preparing you for something specific. You have to trust Me to show you what you're supposed to be doing. Trust Me. And that trust was incredibly hard, but worth the wait. I've been a Writing Center tutor, I've been an administrative assistant, I've been a teacher's aid, I've been a person who struggled with reading at a young age. All of these things, and so many more, have been shaping me for this moment. God is good.
Wednesday I was able to spend some time with a few of the ladies in the family. We went to get pedicures, something I've never done before. It soothed the worry-weary heart by healing the dry-heat abused feet. There's something to be said for healthy feet--the washing and care-giving is Biblical, after all.
I fell asleep to thunder and lightning Wednesday night, and I slept easy knowing the thirsty ground was getting some much needed moisture. And this morning I was woken by thunder and lightning at 6 am, an hour before my alarm would go off, and I didn't mind at all.
My heart is abundantly thankful for the answers to so many prayers, for my heart was as thirsty as the land, and God is pouring out the rain and grace that we so desperately need. Let it rain.
"For greater things have yet to come, and greater things are still to be done in this City." [Chris Tomlin, God of This City]
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Why are you so far from me?
As usual, it's been a while since I last posted and a lot has happened in that time period. I do promise to be more diligent in posting this summer and this next year. I forget how therapeutic blogging can be--and for me, always is.
Instead of going into long details about what has happened, I think a list is in order. This list won't necessarily be in any particular order beside that which they come to me in.
1. I graduated from college with my B.A. in English. I walked across the stage afraid that my cap would tumble off my head, but made it to the president's hand, shook it firmly, and went on my merry way.
2. The Civil Wars have been on repeat since I bought their CD last week. I can't get enough, but wish they had another CD out. There's something about the organic sound and soulful lyrics that speaks to me...
3. My brother graduated from high school. This was huge because his graduation means that my parents could be empty nesters (an idea that I have ruined, but I'll get to that in a bit). I was responsible for the cake at his party, and it was a big success.
4. I did some house sitting for my cousin over this last weekend. She has a new dog (it's actually her boyfriend's, but the basset hound stays are her house), Oliver is a slime monster--cute, but drools a lot. And he's definitely a social eater.
5. I received four rejection letters. And that means that graduate school as not as near as I had hoped. This is why my parents are not going to be empty nesters quite yet. I'm taking the year off and just working, assuming I can find a job in town.
6. There's a possibility that I could be moving to Colorado to live with my brother while he goes to film school and I work. It's a possibility, but also a kind of last option. We'll see what happens.
7. I went on a date (or two). That was exciting, and the highlight of the last two weeks of school. I could go into this, but I think I'll leave it fairly simple. We're keeping in touch, but since we both graduated and are 13 hours from each other we're not "in a relationship." Letter writing is nice.
8. Goodbyes are hard.
9. My God-lesson right now is definitely Trust--and it's written on my wrist as a reminder. Trust. Trust. Trust.
That's about all I've got for an update right now. I'll see you around though, for sure.
"How long will you make me wait? I don't know how much more I can take. I miss you, but I haven't met you. Oh, but I want to. How I do." [The Civil Wars, To Whom It May Concern]
Instead of going into long details about what has happened, I think a list is in order. This list won't necessarily be in any particular order beside that which they come to me in.
1. I graduated from college with my B.A. in English. I walked across the stage afraid that my cap would tumble off my head, but made it to the president's hand, shook it firmly, and went on my merry way.
2. The Civil Wars have been on repeat since I bought their CD last week. I can't get enough, but wish they had another CD out. There's something about the organic sound and soulful lyrics that speaks to me...
3. My brother graduated from high school. This was huge because his graduation means that my parents could be empty nesters (an idea that I have ruined, but I'll get to that in a bit). I was responsible for the cake at his party, and it was a big success.
4. I did some house sitting for my cousin over this last weekend. She has a new dog (it's actually her boyfriend's, but the basset hound stays are her house), Oliver is a slime monster--cute, but drools a lot. And he's definitely a social eater.
5. I received four rejection letters. And that means that graduate school as not as near as I had hoped. This is why my parents are not going to be empty nesters quite yet. I'm taking the year off and just working, assuming I can find a job in town.
6. There's a possibility that I could be moving to Colorado to live with my brother while he goes to film school and I work. It's a possibility, but also a kind of last option. We'll see what happens.
7. I went on a date (or two). That was exciting, and the highlight of the last two weeks of school. I could go into this, but I think I'll leave it fairly simple. We're keeping in touch, but since we both graduated and are 13 hours from each other we're not "in a relationship." Letter writing is nice.
8. Goodbyes are hard.
9. My God-lesson right now is definitely Trust--and it's written on my wrist as a reminder. Trust. Trust. Trust.
That's about all I've got for an update right now. I'll see you around though, for sure.
"How long will you make me wait? I don't know how much more I can take. I miss you, but I haven't met you. Oh, but I want to. How I do." [The Civil Wars, To Whom It May Concern]
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Like butter scraped over too much bread...
What am I doing tonight?
On the floor, on my stomach, typing away at Morning Star -- there's an engagement! I'm excited that such an emotional scene last night could evolve into something so expected, but not at that moment. It's all about timing. I'm sipping coffee, writing, and yes, half watching Magnum PI.
And you know what? I have a headache. Normally I'm pretty decent at multitasking, but I'm not tonight. My brain isn't keeping up with what I want to be doing. Part of that is from lack of sleep--I was up rather late last night, writing. The night is still young though, and so I'm looking for ways to keep myself awake. (Hence the decaf coffee. I know, it's decaf, but it's hot.)
I started a new workout program this week, and I'm really excited about it. But it's way more intense than what I had been doing, and so I'm a little sore in the shoulders. And I've been having chronic stomach pain every evening. (Just a general ickyness.)
Then there's the upcoming GRE. That's got me more than just a little stressed out. Last night, a friend reminded me that not all colleges care about this test. In fact, the school I'm most interested in said that it wasn't a requirement, but what recommended. Why am I taking it then? Hopefully I'll do well on it. I need to study. I mean, I really need to buckle down and study. There are so many other things that occupy my mind though... I know that while I'm testing I'll start thinking about Elves and Fantasy worlds... but I should study anyway, and put forth a strong effort.
I also didn't get a letter in the mail on time today. And that upsets me. When did I start slacking with putting letters in the mailbox? That's not even the worst of it, I have letters backed up waiting for responses from the end of June. I should do that. I really should, and I know I should. So why haven't I?
There are pictures that need to be taken. I need to get my Etsy account all squared away with product pictures. Maybe my cousin will be a bag model for me...I'll have to call her sometime soon.
And now I am indescribably thankful that I did not get a job this summer.
Nerd factor of the night: I'm drinking coffee from a Lord of the Rings mug...that I designed. It's pretty sweet, not going to lie.
"You don't even have to talk about what you're talking about. If you know what I mean." [Magnum PI]
On the floor, on my stomach, typing away at Morning Star -- there's an engagement! I'm excited that such an emotional scene last night could evolve into something so expected, but not at that moment. It's all about timing. I'm sipping coffee, writing, and yes, half watching Magnum PI.
And you know what? I have a headache. Normally I'm pretty decent at multitasking, but I'm not tonight. My brain isn't keeping up with what I want to be doing. Part of that is from lack of sleep--I was up rather late last night, writing. The night is still young though, and so I'm looking for ways to keep myself awake. (Hence the decaf coffee. I know, it's decaf, but it's hot.)
I started a new workout program this week, and I'm really excited about it. But it's way more intense than what I had been doing, and so I'm a little sore in the shoulders. And I've been having chronic stomach pain every evening. (Just a general ickyness.)
Then there's the upcoming GRE. That's got me more than just a little stressed out. Last night, a friend reminded me that not all colleges care about this test. In fact, the school I'm most interested in said that it wasn't a requirement, but what recommended. Why am I taking it then? Hopefully I'll do well on it. I need to study. I mean, I really need to buckle down and study. There are so many other things that occupy my mind though... I know that while I'm testing I'll start thinking about Elves and Fantasy worlds... but I should study anyway, and put forth a strong effort.
I also didn't get a letter in the mail on time today. And that upsets me. When did I start slacking with putting letters in the mailbox? That's not even the worst of it, I have letters backed up waiting for responses from the end of June. I should do that. I really should, and I know I should. So why haven't I?
There are pictures that need to be taken. I need to get my Etsy account all squared away with product pictures. Maybe my cousin will be a bag model for me...I'll have to call her sometime soon.
And now I am indescribably thankful that I did not get a job this summer.
Nerd factor of the night: I'm drinking coffee from a Lord of the Rings mug...that I designed. It's pretty sweet, not going to lie.
"You don't even have to talk about what you're talking about. If you know what I mean." [Magnum PI]
You love me in my weakness...
So, I'm writing tonight--shoving another scene in where one didn't exist before. But the space was aching for something so of course I had to close my eyes for a bit while I was showering and think about what was needed.
What came out?
Self-doubt in my lead female.
A voice that has no body. (Two words, folks, not nobody but literally lacks a body. Or does it?)
Frustration.
The waking of a companion.
Strong arms.
Weeping.
An emotionally drained writer. But in a very good way.
You see, there was something building between these two characters--some tension that would need to be addressed at some point anyway.
Really what my lady-character is learning is that she is loved even in her weakness--even when she's a blubbering mess and doesn't have everything put together. Even when she thinks she's going crazy.
But don't we need some encouragement like that took some days?
It's been a while since I cried a good cry. Did you know that crying is healthy? It's good for your emotional state to alleviate some of that pressure. mmhmm. It's not for lack of reason that I haven't cried--it's for lack of strong arms. (Not that I don't think someone would step up if I needed....I just feel rather disconnected right now, and that's my own fault.)
Anyhow, this is basically me saying that I wish I was in my book and able to have a break down and my guy would just hold me until I stopped beating on his chest.... uh........ yeah. Don't misunderstand me, I really am content to just be single right now.
Oh boy. This is why I don't blog casually at 1:06 in the morning... Forgive me for how disjointed this is.
I was going to make an obvious connection and say that of course God is always there to hold me when I'm having a break down. But really, as I started going I realized that I just want a hug. And while God can give me metaphorical hugs, it's not quite the same as a physical friend hug. (And I think He can speak through friend-hugs.)
I should go to bed or go back to writing. Writing it is!
"I fall at Your feet and worship You with tears." [Danny Oertli]
What came out?
Self-doubt in my lead female.
A voice that has no body. (Two words, folks, not nobody but literally lacks a body. Or does it?)
Frustration.
The waking of a companion.
Strong arms.
Weeping.
An emotionally drained writer. But in a very good way.
You see, there was something building between these two characters--some tension that would need to be addressed at some point anyway.
Really what my lady-character is learning is that she is loved even in her weakness--even when she's a blubbering mess and doesn't have everything put together. Even when she thinks she's going crazy.
But don't we need some encouragement like that took some days?
It's been a while since I cried a good cry. Did you know that crying is healthy? It's good for your emotional state to alleviate some of that pressure. mmhmm. It's not for lack of reason that I haven't cried--it's for lack of strong arms. (Not that I don't think someone would step up if I needed....I just feel rather disconnected right now, and that's my own fault.)
Anyhow, this is basically me saying that I wish I was in my book and able to have a break down and my guy would just hold me until I stopped beating on his chest.... uh........ yeah. Don't misunderstand me, I really am content to just be single right now.
Oh boy. This is why I don't blog casually at 1:06 in the morning... Forgive me for how disjointed this is.
I was going to make an obvious connection and say that of course God is always there to hold me when I'm having a break down. But really, as I started going I realized that I just want a hug. And while God can give me metaphorical hugs, it's not quite the same as a physical friend hug. (And I think He can speak through friend-hugs.)
I should go to bed or go back to writing. Writing it is!
"I fall at Your feet and worship You with tears." [Danny Oertli]
Friday, June 3, 2011
A whole new world...
There is nothing romantic about this post, don't let the title deceive you.
This is something far stranger. Something I didn't think would ever happen. But it has. And I feel inclined with those here to share it. Yes.
I have had a YouTube account for some time now. Mostly, I just favorite videos so I can watch them whenever I want without having to go through a search process. Today, that changed.
My brother and I have been toying with the idea of making Vlogs together. This idea is still in the works. If we do, he'll be the one editing the things and making the presentable in an awesome way. I, on the other hand, will simply say stupid things. Ha.
Well, I decided this morning that I kind of wanted to start Vlogging... and I don't really know why. It should be interesting though. I'm hoping it will help me speak more clearly...maybe.
Anyways, check out my new Channel! Enjoy! Uh... like it, subscribe to it, whatever you want. :)
(And Sara, I know, I said I would never do this...but as the cliche goes, never say never.)
This is something far stranger. Something I didn't think would ever happen. But it has. And I feel inclined with those here to share it. Yes.
I have had a YouTube account for some time now. Mostly, I just favorite videos so I can watch them whenever I want without having to go through a search process. Today, that changed.
My brother and I have been toying with the idea of making Vlogs together. This idea is still in the works. If we do, he'll be the one editing the things and making the presentable in an awesome way. I, on the other hand, will simply say stupid things. Ha.
Well, I decided this morning that I kind of wanted to start Vlogging... and I don't really know why. It should be interesting though. I'm hoping it will help me speak more clearly...maybe.
Anyways, check out my new Channel! Enjoy! Uh... like it, subscribe to it, whatever you want. :)
(And Sara, I know, I said I would never do this...but as the cliche goes, never say never.)
"I love Greek!"
Saturday, May 7, 2011
This was over before it ever began...
This year has just flown by. I can hardly believe that I'm home for the summer. The general theme seems to be: "I'm going to miss everybody, what am I going to do without all of my friend? We've made it so far!"
Now. I am going to miss my friends. And I truly can't believe I only have a year of undergrad work left. It's a big deal. And honestly, it probably deserves a blog post--but I'm not going to give it one. Nor am I going to give my pining for my friends a post--I'll see them again, before we know it summer will be over. (I do miss you all, really I do.)
The bigger issue of being done with the semester--packing and unpacking.
It took me a day to get all of my stuff loaded into the pack of the truck with the help of some friends (thanks Andrew, Heather and Heidi). Before I left campus, I looked at the truck and said, "Woah. My whole life fits into the back of a truck." This may be an over generalization, but it's kind of true, when you think about it. Everything I need to "survive" was in the back of a truck. Crazy.
When I got home I had to unload it all into the garage and living room--my room in the basement wasn't ready to handle all of the boxes yet. How is it that a room couldn't hold what a truck could? Because it was full of a crap from the previous chapters of my life--middle school and high school.
So, I spent the first day on break ignoring the impending project and read a book, a whole book. For fun. It was lovely. Today though, the second day of break, I had to venture down to my bedroom... and started pulling things apart so I could put them back together in a more efficient way.
What has happened?
Well, I stripped my bed to wash the sheets and stuff, and then I started going through some of the older boxes that held stuff I had forgotten existed. I threw a lot of stuff away. I figured that if I didn't remember it I probably didn't need it. That said, I still have a huge pile of crap on my naked bed. Stuff that I don't know what to do with.
I went through the old Graduation Cards...that was a nice trip down memory lane.
I found millions of old notebooks with started stories...I'm excited to see what I may be able to do with some of them.
I checked hundreds of pens to see if they still worked...I love the cheap pens that never seem to die.
I have apparently been hoarding music from high school...All State Music...that made me smile, I hadn't realized I had stolen from the school.
I went through a very angsty period in my life...there are many pieces of paper with poems to prove that which I don't really remember.
I. Am. A. Pack. Rat.
(But if I'm throwing most of it away now, does that redeem that quality?)
Here's to big projects. And the start of summer. And books yet to be read. And stories waiting to be told and written down.
"It's hectic in my mind, but I'm gonna leave it behind. I'm ready to let go." [Natalie Grant]
Now. I am going to miss my friends. And I truly can't believe I only have a year of undergrad work left. It's a big deal. And honestly, it probably deserves a blog post--but I'm not going to give it one. Nor am I going to give my pining for my friends a post--I'll see them again, before we know it summer will be over. (I do miss you all, really I do.)
The bigger issue of being done with the semester--packing and unpacking.
It took me a day to get all of my stuff loaded into the pack of the truck with the help of some friends (thanks Andrew, Heather and Heidi). Before I left campus, I looked at the truck and said, "Woah. My whole life fits into the back of a truck." This may be an over generalization, but it's kind of true, when you think about it. Everything I need to "survive" was in the back of a truck. Crazy.
When I got home I had to unload it all into the garage and living room--my room in the basement wasn't ready to handle all of the boxes yet. How is it that a room couldn't hold what a truck could? Because it was full of a crap from the previous chapters of my life--middle school and high school.
So, I spent the first day on break ignoring the impending project and read a book, a whole book. For fun. It was lovely. Today though, the second day of break, I had to venture down to my bedroom... and started pulling things apart so I could put them back together in a more efficient way.
What has happened?
Well, I stripped my bed to wash the sheets and stuff, and then I started going through some of the older boxes that held stuff I had forgotten existed. I threw a lot of stuff away. I figured that if I didn't remember it I probably didn't need it. That said, I still have a huge pile of crap on my naked bed. Stuff that I don't know what to do with.
I went through the old Graduation Cards...that was a nice trip down memory lane.
I found millions of old notebooks with started stories...I'm excited to see what I may be able to do with some of them.
I checked hundreds of pens to see if they still worked...I love the cheap pens that never seem to die.
I have apparently been hoarding music from high school...All State Music...that made me smile, I hadn't realized I had stolen from the school.
I went through a very angsty period in my life...there are many pieces of paper with poems to prove that which I don't really remember.
I. Am. A. Pack. Rat.
(But if I'm throwing most of it away now, does that redeem that quality?)
Here's to big projects. And the start of summer. And books yet to be read. And stories waiting to be told and written down.
"It's hectic in my mind, but I'm gonna leave it behind. I'm ready to let go." [Natalie Grant]
Monday, May 2, 2011
Proud to be an American...
Sometimes I hate Facebook. It can be a great tool to communicate and organize group events, but generally it's just a nuisance. Especially lately. Part of that is because it is so good at distracting me from writing my final papers. (Which is a personal problem, and I don't blame Facebook, it just proves I have a weak will.)
Last night, however, it nearly made me sick.
I was driving back to college with a friend after going to a concert in my home town--which is what I was planning on blogging about, but won't for now--when she said, "My sister just texted me, Osama bin Laden is dead. We won the war."
My first reaction? "Well... I'm glad we caught the man, but I don't think that his death will necessarily mark the end of the war, it will certainly be a turning point of sorts."
And then I didn't really think about it until I got back to my room and checked my Facebook. I wish I hadn't. It was riddled with three different kinds of reactions, here are the paraphrases:
"Yeah! Osama's dead! AMERICA!"
"Are we celebrating? Really? What's wrong with our country."
"I don't really know how to feel..."
Now, I take a deep breath before I jumped into the rest of this blog because I know that I am bound to offend someone--such is the way of America.
If you don't like rants, stop reading here. I will try to keep it fairly contained.
I will admit, I was relieved to hear that he was dead. Some of my thoughts included, but were not limited to: Maybe some of my friends that have been serving to keep us safe will be able to come home sooner now. Maybe some of the movement of the terrorist groups with be slowed--though I'm sure another leader will take his place. Maybe Americans can finally stand united again.
I guess I can't count on the last one.
The comments on Facebook that bothered me the most? The ones that railed on those that were excited about bin Laden's death. The ones that had this holier-than-thou attitude because they had overcome the human reaction and decided to "love." Last I checked, calling all of the other Facebook users "inhumane" isn't loving. And what kind of image does that promote to the non-Christians? "You're celebrating? You heathens. We should have shown mercy."
Have we forgotten where this all began? Sometimes I wonder if America remember the 9-11-01 attacks. I wonder if they remember how united we were right after that tragedy. I'm sure no one thought this war would go on for close to 10 years, but I wonder if we remember this attacked came from a deep-rooted hate for Christians?
Now, we could have put bin Laden to trial I suppose, but it still would have ended with a death sentence, I'm sure.
It just kills me that it's a lot of the same people that wanted the war to end that are condemning those that see this as the light at the end of the tunnel.
It makes me wonder how people reacted to the death of Hitler. In my mind, bin Laden is the Hitler of my generation. Granted, Hitler took his own life, but I'm sure there was celebration state-side. If there had been Facebook would I have had to sift through the same kind of messages I did last night?
Now, should we rejoice in another's death? Probably not. But I understand the celebration. And a part of me joins in on the "party." I do think justice has been served. I am glad that another Hitler has been removed.
I respect the most those that say they don't know how to feel. "Torn between two kingdoms," as one of my friends put it.
Do I think it's appropriate to say things like, "Burn in Hell?" No. Of course not. Frankly, if we said that every time a sinner died, we would be saying it all the time--every time. (Thank God that with Christ we are forgiven.)
So, I say, "Thanks to our troops for keeping us safe, even when Americans doesn't seem to appreciate your sacrifice for our freedom. Thanks be to God for being a just God. And God bless America, because there are Christians here, and God bless the Middle East, because there are Christians there too. Let His kingdom come, His will be done. May the Christians be able to unite and help restore those that are in need. And please, America, stop trying to destroy yourself from the inside."
Last night, however, it nearly made me sick.
I was driving back to college with a friend after going to a concert in my home town--which is what I was planning on blogging about, but won't for now--when she said, "My sister just texted me, Osama bin Laden is dead. We won the war."
My first reaction? "Well... I'm glad we caught the man, but I don't think that his death will necessarily mark the end of the war, it will certainly be a turning point of sorts."
And then I didn't really think about it until I got back to my room and checked my Facebook. I wish I hadn't. It was riddled with three different kinds of reactions, here are the paraphrases:
"Yeah! Osama's dead! AMERICA!"
"Are we celebrating? Really? What's wrong with our country."
"I don't really know how to feel..."
Now, I take a deep breath before I jumped into the rest of this blog because I know that I am bound to offend someone--such is the way of America.
If you don't like rants, stop reading here. I will try to keep it fairly contained.
I will admit, I was relieved to hear that he was dead. Some of my thoughts included, but were not limited to: Maybe some of my friends that have been serving to keep us safe will be able to come home sooner now. Maybe some of the movement of the terrorist groups with be slowed--though I'm sure another leader will take his place. Maybe Americans can finally stand united again.
I guess I can't count on the last one.
The comments on Facebook that bothered me the most? The ones that railed on those that were excited about bin Laden's death. The ones that had this holier-than-thou attitude because they had overcome the human reaction and decided to "love." Last I checked, calling all of the other Facebook users "inhumane" isn't loving. And what kind of image does that promote to the non-Christians? "You're celebrating? You heathens. We should have shown mercy."
Have we forgotten where this all began? Sometimes I wonder if America remember the 9-11-01 attacks. I wonder if they remember how united we were right after that tragedy. I'm sure no one thought this war would go on for close to 10 years, but I wonder if we remember this attacked came from a deep-rooted hate for Christians?
Now, we could have put bin Laden to trial I suppose, but it still would have ended with a death sentence, I'm sure.
It just kills me that it's a lot of the same people that wanted the war to end that are condemning those that see this as the light at the end of the tunnel.
It makes me wonder how people reacted to the death of Hitler. In my mind, bin Laden is the Hitler of my generation. Granted, Hitler took his own life, but I'm sure there was celebration state-side. If there had been Facebook would I have had to sift through the same kind of messages I did last night?
Now, should we rejoice in another's death? Probably not. But I understand the celebration. And a part of me joins in on the "party." I do think justice has been served. I am glad that another Hitler has been removed.
Do I think it's appropriate to say things like, "Burn in Hell?" No. Of course not. Frankly, if we said that every time a sinner died, we would be saying it all the time--every time. (Thank God that with Christ we are forgiven.)
So, I say, "Thanks to our troops for keeping us safe, even when Americans doesn't seem to appreciate your sacrifice for our freedom. Thanks be to God for being a just God. And God bless America, because there are Christians here, and God bless the Middle East, because there are Christians there too. Let His kingdom come, His will be done. May the Christians be able to unite and help restore those that are in need. And please, America, stop trying to destroy yourself from the inside."
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
One of us is big and brave...
I was thinking tonight about how we stereotype people. And in my context, specifically college majors. Or rather, not so much stereotypes, but allowances.
Let's look at the jocks first. (I am not trying to pick on any one group, don't worry, I'll get around to almost all of them.) The jocks are generally allowed to be less motivated at academics. As a society we don't expect them to be super intelligent. If they were, in the case of football, we wouldn't necessarily let them go out and run the risk of having their brains beat out. So, the jocks are allowed to be "stupid meatheads."
The science major. Well, I have a lot of friends in the science department. They are totally allowed to be complete and utter nerds. (To them, that was a compliment.) In fact, society expects them to geek out about the most obscure things at the most random times, look at "Big Bang Theory" for goodness sake. I would say that society takes great entertainment from their intelligence. It's okay for them to be socially awkward at times. "Oh, he's a science major...that explains a lot."
Math majors kind of have the same allowances as the science people.
Art majors. Both of my parents were art majors. ...yeah. Well, artists are allowed to be eccentric and mostly just really weird. They also get pegged as high hippies a lot of the time too. (That is not always the case.) It's okay for an art student to dress different from everyone else. It's okay for them to look like they're totally in their own little world.
Music majors are similar to artists. Only, they get the allowance for huge egos as well. Or, we'll call it confidence.
And then we get to the English major.
{insert awkward pause}
Well, they're kind of the culmination of all the things listed above. The most common response to "I'm an English major" is that glazed look that just screams, "Oh...you're one of those stupid kids that didn't know what they wanted, so you picked the dead-end major with no real options after graduation." It always comes from the grocery store employees too. (I just wonder what they think art majors are going to do, seriously.)
They're also allowed to be nerdy and geek out about literary allusions in pop culture. I always love when that happens, it's like I have an inside joke with the writer. (Half the time, I wonder if the writer actually understands that we made a connection...maybe it was an accident.)
And we're also allowed to be a little weird, a little "high" as it were. And if the English major is going into writing, there comes the ego.
But you know? Just once, I would like to have my own little niche that I fit into instead of having one foot in all of them. You know? I want someone to be able to look at me, without noticing my books or journals, and think, "English major," the way I can do with just about any other major on campus.
Let's look at the jocks first. (I am not trying to pick on any one group, don't worry, I'll get around to almost all of them.) The jocks are generally allowed to be less motivated at academics. As a society we don't expect them to be super intelligent. If they were, in the case of football, we wouldn't necessarily let them go out and run the risk of having their brains beat out. So, the jocks are allowed to be "stupid meatheads."
The science major. Well, I have a lot of friends in the science department. They are totally allowed to be complete and utter nerds. (To them, that was a compliment.) In fact, society expects them to geek out about the most obscure things at the most random times, look at "Big Bang Theory" for goodness sake. I would say that society takes great entertainment from their intelligence. It's okay for them to be socially awkward at times. "Oh, he's a science major...that explains a lot."
Math majors kind of have the same allowances as the science people.
Art majors. Both of my parents were art majors. ...yeah. Well, artists are allowed to be eccentric and mostly just really weird. They also get pegged as high hippies a lot of the time too. (That is not always the case.) It's okay for an art student to dress different from everyone else. It's okay for them to look like they're totally in their own little world.
Music majors are similar to artists. Only, they get the allowance for huge egos as well. Or, we'll call it confidence.
And then we get to the English major.
{insert awkward pause}
Well, they're kind of the culmination of all the things listed above. The most common response to "I'm an English major" is that glazed look that just screams, "Oh...you're one of those stupid kids that didn't know what they wanted, so you picked the dead-end major with no real options after graduation." It always comes from the grocery store employees too. (I just wonder what they think art majors are going to do, seriously.)
They're also allowed to be nerdy and geek out about literary allusions in pop culture. I always love when that happens, it's like I have an inside joke with the writer. (Half the time, I wonder if the writer actually understands that we made a connection...maybe it was an accident.)
And we're also allowed to be a little weird, a little "high" as it were. And if the English major is going into writing, there comes the ego.
But you know? Just once, I would like to have my own little niche that I fit into instead of having one foot in all of them. You know? I want someone to be able to look at me, without noticing my books or journals, and think, "English major," the way I can do with just about any other major on campus.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
I'm not into the idea of me without you...
Today was a weird one.... In a good way. I guess. It's hard to explain, but I'm going to try.
I was a "victim" in the emergency response test that my college town had today. Actually, it happened on campus, so I guess it was just the college...but everyone else was there too, like the ambulances and firefighters and yeah...everyone.
When I got to the campus center at 8:30 this morning, they gave all 17 of us victims a tag. Mine said that I had no breath sounds on my left side, was making gurgling noises, was confused, and was reluctant to follow instructions. So they made me really pale (as if I wasn't pale already) and gave me some blood splatters around my mouth... and later sprayed me with this water and glycerin mixture to make me look sweaty. One of my favorite moments of the day was going out to the bathroom to check out how I looked. (Some people had huge gashes into their foreheads and some had burns, ect.) While I was walking, a boy scout looked at me and asked, "Woah, did you get punched?" No, and I laughed. Then he turned to one of his fellow scouts and said, "Man, I should have brought my first aid kit!" I laughed then, but now I hope that someday he carries that enthusiasm for helping people (sort of?) into his life. Maybe he'll be a doctor someday.
Then the put us in our places, I was sitting against a wall. The first responders were boy scouts, I think that mine was terrified of me. He kept saying that everything was going to be okay, quietly, and scooting back. He may have been whiter than I was, but I can't be sure. I wanted to reassure him, but I couldn't. I talked to several boy scouts actually. I was one of the only people in my area talking/able to talk. So, because I was supposed to be confused, and the gurgling was not pleasant, I kept asking if other people were okay. It was kind of silly, because I knew what everyone's injuries were, basically. I knew Dottie was actually dead. I knew that Alicia would be okay.
One of the older scouts came over to check on me when he realized the 12 year old wasn't doing much talking to try and keep me calm. He told me to take a deep breath and count the ceiling tiles... first of all, I had told him I couldn't breathe well, that was on the card. Anyways. I told him I didn't like counting, I wasn't a math major. ha. I was just being difficult. And now, a moment of reflection. How many times has God "checked on me" and said to me, "Anna, be still, and know that I am here. Count the tiles while I take care of you. Be calm." And I said, "God, I don't like being still, I don't like being calm. And dang it, I don't like counting!" Had I actually counted the tiles, I would have probably felt better.
That scout must have gone and got another one to sit with me. This new one, Evan, sat with me for quite a while. He was 17, going to get his Eagle Scout hopefully, so I told him that my brother was his age and getting his Eagle. If I hadn't been a victim I probably would have actually enjoyed that conversation. The weird thing? He had a beard. A legit beard. How does that happen to a 17 year old? I guess my brother is just particularly baby faced... hm. Needless to say, I thought Evan was older than he was. He was actually a comfort... Because he didn't look terrified. And when I asked him if the other scout was his boss, I think I heard laughter in his voice when he told me, "No, he just knows more about what is going on." I wanted to laugh. But I couldn't break character.
At about the same time, one of the ladies from Noah's Rescue, the crisis dog center, came up to me with her dog Bella. She stayed with me for the remainder of my time on the floor. She kept me distracted, and it was actually hard for me to be stressed out when that dog was there, she was so calming. I saw them loading Dottie up onto a gurney, and I don't know if I screamed or just yelled, but I know I said, "I think she's dead! Oh my God, she's dead!" And I actually cried. I wasn't expecting it, but it happened. And those tears felt good. I cried while Darcy, Bella's handler, stroked my hair and told me everything was going to be okay. I know she was talking about the scenario, but I felt it resonate deep within. As I cried and felt God whispering to my soul, "I told you I would take care of you, didn't you believe me? It's okay to cry, I'm picking up the pieces." I was finally able to act the way I had been feeling inside for the past couple weeks, confused and finding it hard to breathe.
Finally, after about twenty minutes of me waiting after the medical personal arrived (so probably 40 minutes after the drill started) a firefighter woman approached me and asked me what was wrong. I told her I was having a hard time breathing. So she checked my tag and had me lie down without moving my neck or head, I think she assumed a spinal injury, and I was definitely thinking a broken rib had punctured my lung...but whatever, they have to keep all the bases covered. I was still crying a little when she had me laying on the floor. And I heard her get up and tell one of the other firefighters that I was in critical condition and needed to be on the next ambulance. My first thought was, I have been here for forty minutes. If this were real, I would probably already be dead, drowned from my own blood in my lungs. And they spent forever on Dottie, someone who was already dead... I did find out later that they resuscitated her, so that's good.
It's funny, I don't know if this is normal, but when you get that into acting, you actually start to feel the way you're acting. I could feel my breathing changing, and when Bella showed up I could feel it leveling back out. They did finally get loaded up on a gurney and taken out to an ambulance.
When we got outside, it was still snowing. I was laying on my back and it was snowing on my face. It was a new experience. And it was beautiful. If I hadn't been terrified of them dropping me, I probably would have enjoyed that moment. I ask/tell my firefighter "Is it snowing? It's beautiful..." I also told him several times not to drop me. I do that to God, too. "Don't drop me, Lord. I'm scared of falling." And He tells me, "I would never drop you. Look at this snow. I made it to make you calm. You asked for the rain, and I gave you something far more beautiful."
And then I got to the hospital and it was all good. I know, lame ending. But the test wasn't about the doctors being competent but about the system working. Bella and Darcy stayed with me all the way to the hospital. I loved them both for that.
The moral of this story? I was able to throw myself into this acting job, my first ever. And I was able to release a lot of emotions that I have been bottling up for a long time. And it was good. I got back to my room and slept. Purging and refreshing. Thank you, God.
"In the depth of winter I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." (unknown)
I was a "victim" in the emergency response test that my college town had today. Actually, it happened on campus, so I guess it was just the college...but everyone else was there too, like the ambulances and firefighters and yeah...everyone.
When I got to the campus center at 8:30 this morning, they gave all 17 of us victims a tag. Mine said that I had no breath sounds on my left side, was making gurgling noises, was confused, and was reluctant to follow instructions. So they made me really pale (as if I wasn't pale already) and gave me some blood splatters around my mouth... and later sprayed me with this water and glycerin mixture to make me look sweaty. One of my favorite moments of the day was going out to the bathroom to check out how I looked. (Some people had huge gashes into their foreheads and some had burns, ect.) While I was walking, a boy scout looked at me and asked, "Woah, did you get punched?" No, and I laughed. Then he turned to one of his fellow scouts and said, "Man, I should have brought my first aid kit!" I laughed then, but now I hope that someday he carries that enthusiasm for helping people (sort of?) into his life. Maybe he'll be a doctor someday.
Then the put us in our places, I was sitting against a wall. The first responders were boy scouts, I think that mine was terrified of me. He kept saying that everything was going to be okay, quietly, and scooting back. He may have been whiter than I was, but I can't be sure. I wanted to reassure him, but I couldn't. I talked to several boy scouts actually. I was one of the only people in my area talking/able to talk. So, because I was supposed to be confused, and the gurgling was not pleasant, I kept asking if other people were okay. It was kind of silly, because I knew what everyone's injuries were, basically. I knew Dottie was actually dead. I knew that Alicia would be okay.
One of the older scouts came over to check on me when he realized the 12 year old wasn't doing much talking to try and keep me calm. He told me to take a deep breath and count the ceiling tiles... first of all, I had told him I couldn't breathe well, that was on the card. Anyways. I told him I didn't like counting, I wasn't a math major. ha. I was just being difficult. And now, a moment of reflection. How many times has God "checked on me" and said to me, "Anna, be still, and know that I am here. Count the tiles while I take care of you. Be calm." And I said, "God, I don't like being still, I don't like being calm. And dang it, I don't like counting!" Had I actually counted the tiles, I would have probably felt better.
That scout must have gone and got another one to sit with me. This new one, Evan, sat with me for quite a while. He was 17, going to get his Eagle Scout hopefully, so I told him that my brother was his age and getting his Eagle. If I hadn't been a victim I probably would have actually enjoyed that conversation. The weird thing? He had a beard. A legit beard. How does that happen to a 17 year old? I guess my brother is just particularly baby faced... hm. Needless to say, I thought Evan was older than he was. He was actually a comfort... Because he didn't look terrified. And when I asked him if the other scout was his boss, I think I heard laughter in his voice when he told me, "No, he just knows more about what is going on." I wanted to laugh. But I couldn't break character.
At about the same time, one of the ladies from Noah's Rescue, the crisis dog center, came up to me with her dog Bella. She stayed with me for the remainder of my time on the floor. She kept me distracted, and it was actually hard for me to be stressed out when that dog was there, she was so calming. I saw them loading Dottie up onto a gurney, and I don't know if I screamed or just yelled, but I know I said, "I think she's dead! Oh my God, she's dead!" And I actually cried. I wasn't expecting it, but it happened. And those tears felt good. I cried while Darcy, Bella's handler, stroked my hair and told me everything was going to be okay. I know she was talking about the scenario, but I felt it resonate deep within. As I cried and felt God whispering to my soul, "I told you I would take care of you, didn't you believe me? It's okay to cry, I'm picking up the pieces." I was finally able to act the way I had been feeling inside for the past couple weeks, confused and finding it hard to breathe.
Finally, after about twenty minutes of me waiting after the medical personal arrived (so probably 40 minutes after the drill started) a firefighter woman approached me and asked me what was wrong. I told her I was having a hard time breathing. So she checked my tag and had me lie down without moving my neck or head, I think she assumed a spinal injury, and I was definitely thinking a broken rib had punctured my lung...but whatever, they have to keep all the bases covered. I was still crying a little when she had me laying on the floor. And I heard her get up and tell one of the other firefighters that I was in critical condition and needed to be on the next ambulance. My first thought was, I have been here for forty minutes. If this were real, I would probably already be dead, drowned from my own blood in my lungs. And they spent forever on Dottie, someone who was already dead... I did find out later that they resuscitated her, so that's good.
It's funny, I don't know if this is normal, but when you get that into acting, you actually start to feel the way you're acting. I could feel my breathing changing, and when Bella showed up I could feel it leveling back out. They did finally get loaded up on a gurney and taken out to an ambulance.
When we got outside, it was still snowing. I was laying on my back and it was snowing on my face. It was a new experience. And it was beautiful. If I hadn't been terrified of them dropping me, I probably would have enjoyed that moment. I ask/tell my firefighter "Is it snowing? It's beautiful..." I also told him several times not to drop me. I do that to God, too. "Don't drop me, Lord. I'm scared of falling." And He tells me, "I would never drop you. Look at this snow. I made it to make you calm. You asked for the rain, and I gave you something far more beautiful."
And then I got to the hospital and it was all good. I know, lame ending. But the test wasn't about the doctors being competent but about the system working. Bella and Darcy stayed with me all the way to the hospital. I loved them both for that.
The moral of this story? I was able to throw myself into this acting job, my first ever. And I was able to release a lot of emotions that I have been bottling up for a long time. And it was good. I got back to my room and slept. Purging and refreshing. Thank you, God.
"In the depth of winter I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." (unknown)
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Let it rain
I'm in a strange "funk."
It's been a bad week so far; nothing horribly bad, just a lot of little bads.
I've been battling within myself for days now, and I'm still learning what exactly it is that I'm fighting against. The funny thing? All my usual "weapons" aren't working. What are those things? Writing poetry, it's great reliever for me, and it has taken me four-five days to finally get something out that wasn't straight up awful. Reading my Bible, I was reading the words but not actually listening to them. Writing out my prayers, nothing I said really hit what I was feeling. Reading a good book, nothing felt right.
And then, some out of the ordinary things happened to me yesterday and today and it has made me feel better... So I'm going to make a list. Because I feel like it, and I don't normally make lists, and the not-normal has been helping. So here we go:
1. I walked down the narrow stairs outside of Jesse Hall after work yesterday because my boss suggested it. I love those stairs... they're so... old looking. (And totally sturdy.) I was able to put my hand on the iron railing and just be present in that time... a time that doesn't seem to exist anymore. So, when it gets warmer... I may start making one of those stairwells my writing home, and I am very excited about that endeavor. And I will probably be sad to leave it when summer starts.
2. Bob Olson, one of the guys that works for buildings and grounds (he's also our resident set builder; aka: set god), was working on the stairwell (inside) in Jesse... which is why I had to take the elevator and was then "forced" to take my timeless stairwell outside. When I got to the cafeteria to drop off some tickets for the One Acts, he was in there taking a quick coffee break. I stopped to talk to him a little bit, ribbing him about making me take the elevator. It turned into one of the best conversations ever. After we talked about campus a little, he asked me about how my year was going and how my classes were, and remembered from a previous conversation (like two semesters ago) that I was a creative writing-emphasis English major. And he asked me about grad schools. And he told me about some of the stuff he has worked on... I'm blown away by the man's talent. I don't know how old he is, but he's not a spring chicken and he still talks about how he'll get around to getting his children's books published "someday." I made the comment to him that he is such a busy bee, he probably deserves some time off just to rest. He looked at me and said, "I think it's a sin to waste ones talents." Woah. It hit me between the eyes. How many days do I waste my God-given talents? More than I care to admit. I am thankful for Bob. He's a wonderful man, and if you ever get a chance to talk to him, you Concordians, do it. Please. You'll end up a better person for it.
3. When I left the cafeteria, it had started to rain. A little. Big drops, but not a lot falling. I was worried about my laptop. And then I was thinking about how, if it weren't for my laptop, I would have really enjoyed that walk. Just as I stepped under the awning of the building I was walking to, it started raining a lot heavier. I turned around and looked up at the sky, and I thought, "God, You're awesome, and thank you for not making that happen until I got under the awning." Now, yes, I realize that God probably didn't really care about my laptop just then, and surely it started raining harder on other people who weren't under the awning, so it is flawed thinking to believe that He held off the rain until I was safe...but it was a nice coincidence.
4. I gave one of my professors a hug. She has been a true inspiration to me, and while we are not learning together, we are learning simultaneously what it is to let go of dead weight. (This is part of what I've been fighting against lately, I think.) We've been fighting our elephants. In that embrace, I felt my own burdens lift just a little, and not because words were spoken, but because love was shared. And that can make all the difference. She is a blessing to me, and I thank God that I am able to be in her class. And I look forward to this summer and taking an independent study with her. There will be much writing, some laughing, some crying, and much presence. I am excited to simply be with her reading over my shoulder, so to speak.
5. Talking to a friend I haven't seen in a while at lunch today ended up being one of the most refreshing experiences. We tend to get into these routines, and the routines turn into ruts. I have been eating lunch with approximately the same people for over two months now. I love them. But it was good to break away, hear something new, and laugh. I mean laugh. At something I hadn't already heard five times, or thought about twenty times. It was good, and just what I needed.
Five is a good number, even though it's not technically "round," it's round in my head. Five not-normal things that have made all the difference.
So, let it rain, and let it storm, because I need some nourishment in this twisted heart of mine.
"In a dry and thirsty land, Lord, You are the rain." [Casting Crowns]
It's been a bad week so far; nothing horribly bad, just a lot of little bads.
I've been battling within myself for days now, and I'm still learning what exactly it is that I'm fighting against. The funny thing? All my usual "weapons" aren't working. What are those things? Writing poetry, it's great reliever for me, and it has taken me four-five days to finally get something out that wasn't straight up awful. Reading my Bible, I was reading the words but not actually listening to them. Writing out my prayers, nothing I said really hit what I was feeling. Reading a good book, nothing felt right.
And then, some out of the ordinary things happened to me yesterday and today and it has made me feel better... So I'm going to make a list. Because I feel like it, and I don't normally make lists, and the not-normal has been helping. So here we go:
1. I walked down the narrow stairs outside of Jesse Hall after work yesterday because my boss suggested it. I love those stairs... they're so... old looking. (And totally sturdy.) I was able to put my hand on the iron railing and just be present in that time... a time that doesn't seem to exist anymore. So, when it gets warmer... I may start making one of those stairwells my writing home, and I am very excited about that endeavor. And I will probably be sad to leave it when summer starts.
2. Bob Olson, one of the guys that works for buildings and grounds (he's also our resident set builder; aka: set god), was working on the stairwell (inside) in Jesse... which is why I had to take the elevator and was then "forced" to take my timeless stairwell outside. When I got to the cafeteria to drop off some tickets for the One Acts, he was in there taking a quick coffee break. I stopped to talk to him a little bit, ribbing him about making me take the elevator. It turned into one of the best conversations ever. After we talked about campus a little, he asked me about how my year was going and how my classes were, and remembered from a previous conversation (like two semesters ago) that I was a creative writing-emphasis English major. And he asked me about grad schools. And he told me about some of the stuff he has worked on... I'm blown away by the man's talent. I don't know how old he is, but he's not a spring chicken and he still talks about how he'll get around to getting his children's books published "someday." I made the comment to him that he is such a busy bee, he probably deserves some time off just to rest. He looked at me and said, "I think it's a sin to waste ones talents." Woah. It hit me between the eyes. How many days do I waste my God-given talents? More than I care to admit. I am thankful for Bob. He's a wonderful man, and if you ever get a chance to talk to him, you Concordians, do it. Please. You'll end up a better person for it.
3. When I left the cafeteria, it had started to rain. A little. Big drops, but not a lot falling. I was worried about my laptop. And then I was thinking about how, if it weren't for my laptop, I would have really enjoyed that walk. Just as I stepped under the awning of the building I was walking to, it started raining a lot heavier. I turned around and looked up at the sky, and I thought, "God, You're awesome, and thank you for not making that happen until I got under the awning." Now, yes, I realize that God probably didn't really care about my laptop just then, and surely it started raining harder on other people who weren't under the awning, so it is flawed thinking to believe that He held off the rain until I was safe...but it was a nice coincidence.
4. I gave one of my professors a hug. She has been a true inspiration to me, and while we are not learning together, we are learning simultaneously what it is to let go of dead weight. (This is part of what I've been fighting against lately, I think.) We've been fighting our elephants. In that embrace, I felt my own burdens lift just a little, and not because words were spoken, but because love was shared. And that can make all the difference. She is a blessing to me, and I thank God that I am able to be in her class. And I look forward to this summer and taking an independent study with her. There will be much writing, some laughing, some crying, and much presence. I am excited to simply be with her reading over my shoulder, so to speak.
5. Talking to a friend I haven't seen in a while at lunch today ended up being one of the most refreshing experiences. We tend to get into these routines, and the routines turn into ruts. I have been eating lunch with approximately the same people for over two months now. I love them. But it was good to break away, hear something new, and laugh. I mean laugh. At something I hadn't already heard five times, or thought about twenty times. It was good, and just what I needed.
Five is a good number, even though it's not technically "round," it's round in my head. Five not-normal things that have made all the difference.
So, let it rain, and let it storm, because I need some nourishment in this twisted heart of mine.
"In a dry and thirsty land, Lord, You are the rain." [Casting Crowns]
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Most have seen too many winters...or too few
Memories I don't want to forget:
After I had tried to push my chair in after class, and grunted when it didn't work (this was a week ago):
"What's wrong, Anna? Are you frustrated? Tired? Upset?"
"All of the above." (It had been a rough week.)
"Awe...I'm sorry."
Thank you, Austin, for being a good friend.
While sitting at Claire's dining room table this morning:
"Anna, do you want some slippers or socks?"
"No thank you, I'm good."
"Oh, that's right. You're a Mid-western girl. Sometimes I forget."
Thank you, Claire's mom. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but it made me smile and realize that I am a Mid-western girl. And if that means that I'm tougher because I go bare foot, awesome. But really, it's just because I get too hot if I wear socks.
I navigated Omaha for the first time today. (It wasn't Omaha proper.) And I did it without a GPS unit because it wouldn't load the map for me. For the record, I made it to my destination going strictly from memory of what Claire's mom told me, which I hadn't really been paying attention to because I was counting on the GPS unit. And I didn't get even a little lost. Woah.
"I don't really like broccoli."
Neither do I, Claire's dad, but I ate all of mine... and I feel accomplished. And you know? It wasn't half bad.
"I thought, I could dress up for Anna."
Thanks Sara, you're so sweet, and so cute. I wish I could say that I dressed up for you and our Borders Coffee date... but I just didn't have any dry jeans, hence the skirt.
Great cream cheese frosting recipe:
1 stick of butter
1 package of cream cheese
3.75 cups of powdered sugar, sifted.
So......good. So, simple.
Watching the Lord of the Rings with Steph during the Super Bowl.... it's lovely.
"Now something is about to happen that has not happened for an age." [Treebeard, movie]
After I had tried to push my chair in after class, and grunted when it didn't work (this was a week ago):
"What's wrong, Anna? Are you frustrated? Tired? Upset?"
"All of the above." (It had been a rough week.)
"Awe...I'm sorry."
Thank you, Austin, for being a good friend.
While sitting at Claire's dining room table this morning:
"Anna, do you want some slippers or socks?"
"No thank you, I'm good."
"Oh, that's right. You're a Mid-western girl. Sometimes I forget."
Thank you, Claire's mom. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but it made me smile and realize that I am a Mid-western girl. And if that means that I'm tougher because I go bare foot, awesome. But really, it's just because I get too hot if I wear socks.
I navigated Omaha for the first time today. (It wasn't Omaha proper.) And I did it without a GPS unit because it wouldn't load the map for me. For the record, I made it to my destination going strictly from memory of what Claire's mom told me, which I hadn't really been paying attention to because I was counting on the GPS unit. And I didn't get even a little lost. Woah.
"I don't really like broccoli."
Neither do I, Claire's dad, but I ate all of mine... and I feel accomplished. And you know? It wasn't half bad.
"I thought, I could dress up for Anna."
Thanks Sara, you're so sweet, and so cute. I wish I could say that I dressed up for you and our Borders Coffee date... but I just didn't have any dry jeans, hence the skirt.
Great cream cheese frosting recipe:
1 stick of butter
1 package of cream cheese
3.75 cups of powdered sugar, sifted.
So......good. So, simple.
Watching the Lord of the Rings with Steph during the Super Bowl.... it's lovely.
"Now something is about to happen that has not happened for an age." [Treebeard, movie]
Friday, January 28, 2011
The sun is shining. The tank is clean... The tank is clean!
Today is a new day. And I already have a few happy things I want to share.
The cleaning lady told me these things this morning while I was brushing my teeth:
"It's a beautiful day already!"
"I'm going to crack the window a little so we can get some natural light in here!"
"You girls should put some plants in here, I think they would do really well. ... On second thought, my cleaners might kill them..."
I love her. She is one of the sweetest ladies, ever.
And a friend of mine that lives "far away" (an hour) has proven to be such a blessing for me to wake up to messages from.
And, it's Friday!
And our window is also open a crack!
So.
Today will be glorious.
"My, oh my, what a beautiful day outside. Hey, yeah, what a beautiful day."
[The Classic Crime, Solar Powered Life]
The cleaning lady told me these things this morning while I was brushing my teeth:
"It's a beautiful day already!"
"I'm going to crack the window a little so we can get some natural light in here!"
"You girls should put some plants in here, I think they would do really well. ... On second thought, my cleaners might kill them..."
I love her. She is one of the sweetest ladies, ever.
And a friend of mine that lives "far away" (an hour) has proven to be such a blessing for me to wake up to messages from.
And, it's Friday!
And our window is also open a crack!
So.
Today will be glorious.
"My, oh my, what a beautiful day outside. Hey, yeah, what a beautiful day."
[The Classic Crime, Solar Powered Life]
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Stop blowing holes in my ship!
Sometimes it feels like I'm being attacked from all sides.
Don't get me wrong, today ended up being a great day, even if I had to leave home earlier than I was planning. I haven't felt particularly attacked lately.
What's prompting this thought is the fact that my roommate and I watched the first "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie tonight. I love it. I've seen it so many times I can generally quote the characters before they speak.
One of my favorite lines is the title of this blog... and then I realized that sometimes I feel like yelling that at the world, at myself, and at God. I can have perfect ideas about the way I want my day, week, month, semester, year and life to go. And in a minute, something big will happen that changes the whole scheme. Sometimes it feels like I get that from all sides: myself, God, family, friends, and the world.
Sometimes I find myself waiting and waiting for the perfect timing... I wonder how many opportunities I let slip by because I just wasn't playing enough attention.
Life's funny that way.
"If you were waiting for the opportune moment, that was it." [Jack Sparrow]
Don't get me wrong, today ended up being a great day, even if I had to leave home earlier than I was planning. I haven't felt particularly attacked lately.
What's prompting this thought is the fact that my roommate and I watched the first "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie tonight. I love it. I've seen it so many times I can generally quote the characters before they speak.
One of my favorite lines is the title of this blog... and then I realized that sometimes I feel like yelling that at the world, at myself, and at God. I can have perfect ideas about the way I want my day, week, month, semester, year and life to go. And in a minute, something big will happen that changes the whole scheme. Sometimes it feels like I get that from all sides: myself, God, family, friends, and the world.
Sometimes I find myself waiting and waiting for the perfect timing... I wonder how many opportunities I let slip by because I just wasn't playing enough attention.
Life's funny that way.
"If you were waiting for the opportune moment, that was it." [Jack Sparrow]
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