Ontario airport, 11:00pm

(because the deepest meanings we find in life occur in the briefest of moments and shortest of sentences...) 

She walked up and down the empty tiled corridors, her body and soul absorbing the reverberation of her footsteps--the only sign or recognition of her quiet existence.  

"Can we move to the UK...?"

trafalgar square, london 

september 2007

no....seriously.  Can we?

tbc...

My desire to connect with the world is great;
to open myself as a nourishing outpour,
a gentle soothing rain for the earth
so that others may partake of my fruit.

Yet I have no means or methods:
for I cannot paint the lilly pads
nor compose the secrets of man's hearts.

for wendy...

With windows down

I stick my face outside

to be flitted by the wind.

My hair trails behind me,

and I let one or two be stolen

so that a piece of me will fly away

to places I've never dreamed of,

and there I will be where I cannot. 

(there!)

I realized this simple yet fundamental fact about myself today:

I could never love a man--I mean, really love him--if he did not love Harry Potter first.  We would just be too incompatible.  

And I think if I was to choose someone to narrate my life, I pick Jim Dale ("the facts were these...").  

And that is that. 

Reflections on the "reflections on this special time of year'

Y'all know its a joke right?

Usually my cutting sarcasm is pretty blatant--apologies for the ambiguity.

Remember: "it's a joke"! (see above)

Reflections on this special time of year...

Please take my special holiday poll at the bottom of the page to have a special reflection on this special time of year...

Election Day Prayer

A Prayer for Election Day, AD 1998

Lord God of all creation,
You rule and judge all nations,

You scatter the arrogant of mind and heart,

You cast down rulers from their thrones and raise up the lowly.



Today we elect those who will serve in our government:

the voices that call us to go this way or that way are confusing,

the signs of these times that we must discern are tragic and unjust,

the culture of death that afflicts all people is powerful.



Open our eyes to see your Reign in history,

our hearts to share your love with all people,

our ears to hear the cry of the widow, the orphan, and the stranger among us.



Send your Holy Spirit upon the people of this land:

Teach us to make wise and prudent decisions.

Increase our faith and hope.

Help us to live the Gospel we profess.



May all who are elected this day:

do justice,

love goodness,

and walk humbly before You and all people.



We ask for these blessings,

confident in your providence through all time

through your Son, Jesus Christ, Redeemer and Savior, Amen.

--Anonymous 

[Prayer 2]

Lord, deliver me from the powers that would seduce me into desiring greatness,
and have me seek identification with the forgotten,
following in Your example:
for though You are in the very nature of God,
You did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
and made yourself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant (Philippians 2:5).

Make me nothing--
nothing of myself, and all of You.
May my life be nothing of a constant prayer,
an offering to You.
Help me to living the mystery of your coming Kingdom
and to momently partake in you present Body.
Consume me, Lord, so that I may be consumed by others.

I pray not only that the meditations of my heart and words of my mouth bring You glory,
but also the works of my hands and the steps of my path.
May I live not for substantial movement and change,
but be guided by the hope for miracles.


I am not voting. But I will pray and fast.

You know it's true...

Question posed: "and anyway, what's the big deal? can't someone think that they are fucking fantastic and simultaneously doubt their redemptive qualities?"
Answer given: "yes, you can. in private. society only likes one or the other my friend..."

songs and images

My life is not my own, but I keep trying to re-claim it. I think these mediums of expression and thought are both fundamental in conveying the realization I came to today. The conclusion is so simple, I can't believe I've been ignoring it as it's stared me in the face all this time (like most conclusions to problems that you don't really want answers for)...

Mr. Tambourine Man
by Bob Dylan really hit home today. Though the lyrics of this song is arguably drug-induced, but still really resonate with me and my perspective towards the life I'm living, especially this stanza:
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

I am constantly looking towards a new beginning, a fresh start, something new and exciting to occur...now. (No? How about...now. Nope? Damn it, what's wrong with the world?) I guess it's another way in which college life has created unhealthy expectations for the world in which it is supposedly supposed to prepare me for. The burden of freedom and plethora of obligations that I could not wait to escape from while in college I almost readily welcome now, as life has settled into a pretty yet unsatisfactory rhythm. The constant question of 'how' has quietly transformed into 'why', which provokes much more intensive thought and intentional response. But then, as usual, the answer was presented to me today in church (right? where else?)...

This is my why. This is my how. This is the culmination of all meaning and purpose, the hope I look to, and the path that guides me. I am gathered to the source of my hope and light, lest I forget from whence I came. Thanks be to God.

I got so many little affirmations in church on the path on which I am to be taking, and I really think it might be towards the Community House. I am so not sure, but I can't discern on whether or not my lack of clarity is because I am staring straight into the ugly face of all of my doubt--doubts on whether I can do this, whether or not I want to. Focusing on what I am giving up if I do this rather than remembering what I gain. But it's not really about gaining, but about walking the narrow path of Our Lord. The centricity of purpose and meaning is what I gain when I do this, I suppose. I have already committed to fasting and praying when the time comes to decide on whether or not I will move in, but I have a feeling that my prayer will be that a loud shout will confirm the small slight whisper that I think I already hear.

Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
--"My Back Pages" by Mr. Bob Dylan

Here are things:

Right now, I can't elaborate on all of these things as much as I want to, but I can offer a coherent list of organized thoughts!  Yay! Progress!

*Things really suck at home right now, and I feel really helpless...praypraypraypraypray, please.

*I might go to grad school...for free?  The only catch: I have to go to APU.  Details to follow...

*I still haven't sat down to articulate my convictions on voting and why I'm making my decision not to, but here are some bits from a conversation I had earlier that I think pretty much outline my 'whys':

"I think I'm offensively hopeful in that I have so much hope in Christ, I don't see the need to vote for a political leader..." 

yet..."I was praying about all that the other day, and I felt the need to apologize for even thinking about it. Like i'd forgotten that the cross happened and removed, virtually, all need for politics...how i had forgotten to practice the politics of our Lord. instead i made it (the politics of Jesus) an item of discussion, rather than a way of life..."

but, in the end... "Everytime I even think about voting I feel like I'm cheating on Jesus."(It's true.)
Most of that was said by the wise Misty (harhar), but I really resonate with all of the sentiments. Again, further elaboration will follow...

*Ok, plain and simple: adjusting to life after college is hard.  And the instability in my life since May has not made this process any easier, to say the least. I feel like i go through circles with emotional situations rather than moving along linearly. In all honesty, I just feel like my emotional stability and level-headedness that I so pride myself in is just slipping out underneath me:  I'm not 'the strong girl' anymore.  In fact, just accepting where I currently am emotionally has been half the battle for me lately, and I have had really wonderful encouragement from really important people to just 'feel my feelings', and let them be ok (regardless on how silly I think they are, or how little legitimacy they hold).  

Ok those were things. 

I've realized...

I'm really good at making commitments to myself and to others and even to causes and ideas without any real direction on how to follow through. (I'm also really good at writing tiny little quips on my blog without expounding.)

This came in my head last night:

We often found that at times, the only real direction we had were the freeway lanes marked in yellow.  Our only momentum to move forward was the engine of our cars, and the only reason we had to continue was the song playing through the speakers, the words of which were the only thing that could really move our disenchanted souls.  So, sometimes, we would drive a little further than we needed to...

puppies...

Instead of restating the process that was both personally and communally induced, I'm gonna request that everybody go here to see the discussion that was had about abortion that was initiated by a recent BBC Health article regarding advances in testing for down's syndrome during pregnancy.

I feel that for the first time, I am seriously and legitimately torn about this "issue".  I also believe that as soon as a deem it an "issue", it no longer is as such in my life, but escapes into the densely ambiguous outer atmosphere of the Other.  Issues are about the people discussing them, not the groups or individuals who are being discussed.

Ok, enough of my ranting.  Enjoy?  Or, at least, read and tell me your thoughts?  I love the thoughts...

Unsheathing the student identity...

I graduated from college, but I still create homework for myself.  Except now, the amount and level of bullshitness has greatly decreased.  I'm all about quality, not quantity, folks.  Future students: rejoice!

Azusa Gardens is a very special place (or, unearthing the details)

These are the reasons why Azusa Gardens is very special place. (The term "special" can be interpreted as derogatory as the reader so pleases, by the way...)

Reason #1: The guy who plays Taps every night around 10pm sharp.

Reason #2: The non-native English speakers East-Asian neighbors who play video games, and seemingly yell and bang against the walls...

Reason #3: The cat statue outside our across-the-way neighbor's  door.  It has those decorative stones for eyes and is holding a sign explaining just what species it is.

Reason #4: The man who walks around banging bells and yelling out indistinguishable phrases, who is either enacting a pagan seance, or is selling little Hispanic goodies.      

As for the later portion of my blog title, I've realized that my face is not symmetrical.  At all.  In the slightest.  The nerves or something in the right side of my face raise everything a little higher.  I tried my hardest to find some sort of important life-reflection lesson thing that would be illuminated from this, but...alas.  Yet I still feel it is very important to put this out there.  That's all.

Sorry for wasting your time. :)  This sort of remedial verbal processing is what my roommate has to endure all the time, so...don't feel bad. 

lalalalalala Bobby McGee

"Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose,
Nothing don’t mean nothing honey if it ain’t free, now now.
And feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues,
You know feeling good was good enough for me,
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee. "

Man, I'm glad I have this on vinyl.  I also wish I had a digdy-tal version of it, so I could listen to it over and over and over and over...

"Everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey"

Life=good=not posting blogs?

thus seems to be the case.  and is rather depressing.  i guess i do my best work while being under pressure, and God is blessing me with a time period of not being under pressure.  

I just get to dream in non-sequentialisms and admire the little pockets of beauty around me--like the light reflecting off the heat coming out of the oven dancing on my kitchen wall.  I have to be absorbed rather than observe. Learn to simply exist in the moments that make life worth it, rather than capitalizing on them through insincere prose.  Celebrate, and pray that eventually my first response will be a murmur of praise rather than a conception of my fabricated involvement in such events.  Share for the sake of giving Glory to God and to give witness to the Kingdom, not to make myself appear to be thoughtful and intuitive and, as all of us writers really (really) want to be: interesting.  

So, when I share that the highlight of my week thus far has been my 50-year-old client, who has never really had the opportunity to grow and operate independently in her life, checked out a book from the library all by herself and without any prompting, it's because I have to give thanks to the One Who loves her more than imaginable.  When I describe the look of joy and pride on her face, and  recount her insistence on telling everyone that "Book...Myself!", it's because I can't contain my joy. We both offer simple and short words, but they hold a depth of a joy and hope beyond which any of us are capable of articulating.

But these words aren't really for you, or me, or anyone else in particular, because they are just reflections of a life that does not belong to me--a life i cannot harness and domesticate with my considerably inadequate language. 

and thus sums my apology for not writing blogs more often. :)

List 2.0

Seven ways I secretly wish I could make a living:

1.) Singing in a Rilo Kiley/Mariah Carey band (the slash indicates 'and' and not 'or')

2.) Writing pulp (science fiction, fantasy, smut...whatever)

3.) Having a love for all things Russian with no practical manifestation 

4.) Homemaking

5.) Puppy-sitting

6.) Harry Potter theorist/scholar

7.) Being a UK citizen (just living there)

Chris Stevens: Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

This is why I love Northern Exposure.

List 1.0

('cause there just ain't enough of them)

Ten things The Decemberists have inspired me to do:

1.) Read me some Myla Goldberg
2.) Live in Portland
3.) Listen to The Pouges
4.) Study Japanese folk stories
5.) Subscribe to 'Word of the Day'
6.) Play the accordion, or spend ample time with individuals who do
7.) Avoid sailors
8.) Sing in rounds
9.) Listen to Joanna Newsome (big deal)
10.) Locate the city/state/street/commonwealth of Valenica

Nine reasons I probably can't and/or won't be a 'real' writer:
1.) Can't commit to my vices
2.) Am too social, in an un-tragic way
3.) Have other marketable skills, in a tragic way
4.) Live in a perpetual state of self-induced writers block
5.) Am not quirky/eccentric/derranged enough
6.) Don't respond well to mental threats of immanent death or the annihilation of all puppies upon failure to write daily
7.) Am funny, but not that funny

8.) Am creative, but not that creative

9.) Spend time writing useless lists rather than actually writing.

When Charles Shaw feels like your only friend...

Yet. Again.

"I didn't mean to waste your time
so I'll fall back in line
But I'm warning you: we're growing up..."


*Vulgarity*.

The Belly of the Beast

So, I'm doing it. I'm applying to Starb-b-b...*sigh*. Starbucks.

Is this the final end? Have I finally and ultimately conceded to my monetary and self-sustaining "needs" rather than holding fast to my ideals and desire to be a pervasive difference in the world? As much as I am attempting to express my upper-middle class social angst here, truth is, I don't really feel all that bad. The economy sucks, I need another job, and Starbucks is hiring. It's that plain and simple.

Right now, I'm subconsciously trying to grapple with true dependency on God, and the distinctions that exist in that state (or, rather, attempt). Honestly, my lack of consistent housing and adequate income since graduation in May has really made me swallow my pride and American self-sufficient tendencies and lean out into God and my community for care and help. And, God and my community have responded, and I've been cared for (albeit, there is a last-minute pattern for each of these circumstances, as if our Lord is trying to make a point or something). This is beautiful. Read that sentence again, and say it slowly: this. is. beautiful. As stressful as it can be, I almost would prefer this state for the rest of my life rather than anything steady and calculated. It invites adventure: I don't know where I'll be or what I'll be doing in the next few weeks. It also invites a deeper connection with others, which occurs when we learn to remove our "selves" from ourselves and learn to how to operate holistically with our community. And it most assuredly promotes a much more consistent prayer life. :)

Perhaps, then, applying to work at Starbucks doesn't conflict with my newly adapted lifestyle, as I am forced to (once again), swallow my middle-class, educated, "socially responsible" pride, and work. And really work. Not sit at a desk all day, but be on my feet, preparing things for others. As hip as they may be, coffee Baristas are still blue-collar jobs (perhaps the collar is just popped? Or something else more congruent with the fashion trends as of late?). And that's humble, or something? But not really--maybe it's just an attempt for me to slowly peel away the very middle-class concept that I am "better" than certain jobs because of...whatever. A concept that I've been inbred to believe. ( I understand that this paragraph vividly reflects that I still am very much operating out of this paradigm, but hopefully also expresses that its a paradigm that I very much wish to shift away from. Quickly. Any help in that is accepted).

And, I don't have as strong ethical contentions against Starbucks, unlike the other corporate monsters out there like Wal Mart and Micky D's, aside from their infrequent if at all use of fair trade coffee. I don't like how harmful (devastating, even) the coffee industry is to local farmers, but I'm not sure notworking at Starbucks can rectify that. Suggesting that customers purchase the fair trade option perhaps can?

All in all, my qualms aren't potent enough to keep me from applying for this second job. I believe that God will provide for me, miraculously, if need be, but I also know I'm not "better" than Starbucks. Plus, those iced soy lattes with sugar-free cinnamon dulce syrup are soooo goood...

So, that's it I guess. Hand me a black hat and one of those charming green aprons: I'm heading into the Belly of the Beast. If I get hired, I'll donate all my free pounds of coffee to charity.

Sunday afternoon, 2:29 PM

Sometimes, when we’re really down about the moments, events, and circumstances that constitute our lives, significant or mundane, it’s important for us to remember our history: where we’ve been and how we got to where we are. Whenever the light at the end of the tunnel seems to grow more and more dim, when everything around us seems to succumb to darkness, when all avenues have been tested with no avail, and we have but a glimmer of hope in front of us for which we desperately grope, we must remember the times in our lives when we’ve stepped out of the darkness and into the light. When we’ve been delivered from utter despair, when we’ve gone to hell and back, and still made it out on the other end in one piece. We must remember those moments, and we must cling to them with everything that we have, because they often will be our only salvation and means of survival.

“Remember your history, O Israel”, the prophets often implored in moments when all seemed lost. “Have faith”, they beseeched, “in the Lord who delivered you from slavery and into the Promised Land.” Never forget, they said, that you have been saved once, and you will be saved again. Those of us who follow the rather eccentric sect of Judaism know that we need not worry about future salvation from inevitable and impending doom, as our forefathers may have. We needn’t worry, because we know that all of creation has experienced the ultimate salvation in the death and resurrection of an obscure first-century Nazarene carpenter. That is why when we gather as the Body of Christ, we partake in the Eucharist: to remember the audacious hope of all things made new, and to recognize our commitment to it, a commitment we make with our lives, with every fiber of our beings.

“No guilt in life, no fear in death” is a proclamation of hope that many Christians sing the hymn In Christ Alone. It’s a stanza that reminds us that the Powers of this world are obsolete compared to the Power of Christ in us—a power that invites us to live as though the Resurrection of our Lord really did, in fact, occur, and that that event has eternal significance. We have been brought out of the darkness and into the light.

So, in times of great sorrow, anxiety, and depression, find joy. Discipline yourself to dwell in the past—in the times of light and hope and deliverance—in order to remember your hope for the future. Today, for example, I woke up surrounded by a cloud of depression about the current state of various situations in my life. I felt a little hopeless about certain things falling into place, and doubted the wisdom of important decisions I’ve recently made. As I was about to get ready for the day, I put on some music, and a song came on that was very important to me a few short months back when I was literally facing the most difficult trial I’ve experienced in my short life. The song reminded me of strength, and hope, and joy, and comfort, and the promise of deliverance from oppression and evil that our Lord has given to the world. Immediately, the cloud lifted, and I danced cheerfully in my living room, the music granting me empowerment and instilling in me a fresh, unadulterated sense of new beginning: I have been delivered once, and I will be delivered again.


Everyday, the tremors of the drumbeat of life fill our ears: the resounding sounds of anxiety, fear, obligation, oppression, and pain drown out any sweet whisper of hope and life. When that happens, when the deafening noise penetrates your ears, and you feel that you’re doomed to listen to nothing else for the rest of your existence, remember: there is always music playing. There is always music; it’s there—we just have to cling to the faith that God will enable us to hear it once in awhile. And God will, for God has delivered us from slavery and into the Promised Land.

“Remember your history, O Church.”

hmm

This is a "briefer" (yup, I just made that up).  

Like every other conscious humanoid on the planet, I have been thinking a lot about love...umm, my whole life.  Love, relationships--you know, the simple torturous concepts and the idea of their supposed essential place of centrality in our lives that we keep subjecting ourselves.  I have been "officially" single for half a year now, and practically single for about ten months, and I am in a self-diagnosed 'good place' in the relationship department.  Due to the anticipated radical geographical changes that I plan on undergoing in the next few years, I'm not set out to find a spouse right now.  I'm actually not that interested in finding anything super "serious" by any means, as I am still "recovering" (for lack of better word) from those strange, long-term interactions that bears the aforementioned adjective that I have been in for the past several years.  I'm simply not quite ready.  

Yet, I still have a hard time shaking that slightly obsessive and very self-depreciating tendency to put myself and my heart in a position to be broken when it comes to my interactions with the opposite sex--a position that I am fully aware is inevitable.  These situations simply will not work out for a number of reasons, and I know this going into it.  Yet, again and again, I am not satisfied with being "ok" with being single--which, to me, has always translated into the word "lonely".  Again, I'm not looking for anything life-altering, I'm just hoping for anything.  I haven't quite descended to the "I'll make out with anyone who looks slightly tolerable, especially if I'm drunk" state yet (and I don't anticipated to), but, hell, I'd like a date once in awhile.  

And then I ask myself, "Self, why?  Why are you doing this to yourself?  What is it that you desire so strongly that you'll put yourself in the line of fire to experience the sensation?"  I'm not operating under any fallacy of the wonders of love and relationships--experience has taught me those fables simply are not true.  But there is something that creates an inner yearning for something only members of the opposite sex whom I am attracted to (or make myself attracted to) can provide, and I think today I got it: it's the feeling of being special to someone.  Of being extra important in a way that other human relationships just can't provide.  That feeling, sensation, whatever, is what makes us humans go crazy, jump off cliffs, and put ourselves in harms way for even the idea of love.  And that's what I somehow, deep down inside need, or have convinced myself that I need.  That's what makes me willing to date someone who I know isn't good enough for me, that's what has made me become less of myself so the current relationship situation I was in would work.  

Current obession

It's ridiculous.   But soooooo good, at the same time.  If you have a spare 36 hours, read the three 500+ page books--that's all it will take you, because you won't be able to put it down.

I know this is a teenage girls sensation.  I'm trying to take to the college/post-college generation, specifically those who are still slightly depressed that Harry Potter is, in a word, over.  You know who you are. 

Oh, and this will give you ridiculously high expectations of men.  Or, at least, god-like gorgeous virtuous vampires.  You know. 

i wrote this yesterday.

Sometimes I (foolishly, I think) toy with the idea of writing a book. If I ever do, this will be a component of a chapter.

Leaves.


I felt the wind on my cheek comin’ down from the east/
And thought about how we are all as numerous as leaves on trees/
And maybe ours is the cause of all mankind…


So, I have this necklace.

It hangs real low, in a real fashionable way. Sort of too fashionable for me—I’m not sure I can legitimately pull it off. I bought it at a college art show opening—one of the last few on campus my senior year—at a comparably low price of $25 (not bad for hand-made art jewelry). It wasn’t my first choice, but it sort of presented itself to me vividly from the sales sheet, its image casually yet assertively positioned between the others in a series that already bore the “sold” mark of purchase. My first love, a quaint yet unique piece that was a mosaic of pattern, fabric, and lace, had betrayed me, flaunting its beauty and attraction to the first buyer who was conscious enough to hold a pen to write a $25 check, rather than waiting for me, it’s one and only.

What a floosie.

Anyway, when the sudden surge of angst and dire disappointment subsided, my necklace was there on the sales sheet. Faithful, virtuous, true. And waiting for me. I rushed from the sales table as the beloved sprints into the open arms of her lover to view the display of the original necklace—after all, I am not one to purchase an object based on its photographic image, treating it like some mail-order bride. No, I will at least hold out for love at first sight, which is exactly what I (or, as I should say, we) experienced.

It was perfect. Simple, yet bold—much like I am. It was a symbol of dichotomy: an individual, blue leaf against a background of red. Its color scheme was clearly unnatural; as was the solitude of the leaf, for a leaf is not a leaf alone, but is a product, or rather, reflection of a tree in its entirety. Leave are symbols of change and seasons, yes; but they are also symbols of multiplicity, of connectedness, of society. No leaf is an island, so to speak.

Staring at my leafed necklace for a few moments before literally sprinting back to the sales table, my tempest nearly knocking over the artist’s elderly grandmother who visited for the opening, I acknowledged that I was staring at a symbol of myself. Forcibly plucked from any sense of a connected society by my culture and upbringing, unnaturally colored as an “individual”—as well as all of the other adjectives and nouns that exist in the plethora of things and concepts that we are told we are to be. This blue leaf on its own didn’t make sense, just as on my own, I don’t make sense either. Not really. People don’t, really. (Ok, 99.9% don’t—forgive my hasty generalization). Perhaps the leaf would make more sense if it existed in the presence of a multiplicity of blue leaves: majestically and confidently stemming from a red or purple or orange or whatever color tree, their unnatural yet consistent uniqueness a testament to the tree’s validity in a forest of boring green and brown.

And this, this is the pretense of my analogy. I, as human, may not make as much sense alone, individualized. But I, as believer, follower, disciple, adherer to a path that demands complete and total devotion and promises pain and death, member of the Body, Christian, make absolutely no sense alone. Disconnected from the tree, my stance as a blue leaf in a sea, ocean, planet, really, of green is almost arbitrary. But imagine what a blue tree in an emerald forest can be: a contrast, for one thing. A point of reference, for another. Perhaps a place of refuge, a haven for those who refuse to believe that green is all there is to this life. Or, as our “trunk” might offer, this blue tree can be a city on a hill, a light in the darkness.

I really, firmly believe that one cannot be Christian and be alone. Or, rather, disconnected. Trees are symbols of life, and their leaves are extensions of that. They proclaim it and are dependent on it, which is why their beauty and life fades and dies when they are disconnected from the tree. A multitude of blue leaves may stand as individual, personal testimonies to the tree, but are really incapable of “living life” (or whatever it is that leaves do) differently than green leaves alone. Which, at the end of the day, is what Christ calls the church to do: live radically, entirely different. Live life fully, promote fullness in each human, and live fully without fear of the inevitable consequences of doing so. Live to die. Live like Him. Live as though the Resurrection took place, and as though that event has any ultimate and eternal significance. Live as though all things were made new (Rev 23:11).

We are to be Him, as the Body, as the Church—which Alexander Schmemann claims exists “for the life of the world”. So we live life, but we live it differently, joyfully demonstrating that everything is different now, now that He is risen. Green may have been the way to perceive and interpret life, but now, now we do it differently. Perhaps, now, we live as though blue means life—a life that is full and thriving.

But we can’t do it alone. We need to exist as a social body, interconnected in our contrast with world, constantly connected to the One whom we call Lord. Existing as blue leaves that resemble the color of their tree in a forest that protests that they should be otherwise.

That is why I wear my necklace, even though I can’t fashionably pull it off: like Christians who wear a cross around their necks, I wear my blue leaf to remind myself where I belong, and to whom I belong to. I live in the hope of resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, and chose to belong to His Body, the Church. I wear it to remind myself that as the Church, we are to live differently, in contrast to the lives lived around us, as much as a tree of blue leaves differs from the green terrain in which it is rooted— it lives in this world, but is clearly not of it.

ps...

damn. i wanted to utilize the brevity of that writing tool without having to inadvertently refer to the movie title...

but anyways:



"P.S. I love you".
I loved this movie. I laughed a lot, I cried a bit (BIG DEAL), and I smiled often. I felt it encapsulated the reality of life and loss-- which I know was a criticism of many people who saw it--but I tend to favor reality and crave things that seeks to explore what's real--and I thought it was beautiful. (And, OH GOOD LORD, that man is beautiful! I would argue that the element of this movie that demanded criticism was the fact that it might have given women the unrealistic expectation that they will find such a hot, charming, and darling foreign man who will fall head over heels in love with them and marry them.)

But yes, see it, and tell me your opinions. I liked it more than most things.

"and you're not happy, but you're funny..."

I didn't think the post-college depression and phase of loneliness would occur so quickly...

I'm pretty sure mine first settled in prior to the actual date of graduation--perhaps around the time when we first started packing up our apartment about a week before school ended. I certainly held no strong emotional ties to Crestview N210--it was yet another place that I've lived in the long list of residences I've held over the the past four years (I believed I've moved into new places about 11 times since I've started college? That includes my treks home for the summer as well). The sadness occurred because I had to face the looming reality that "life as I've known it" was ending, several of the things I've learned to value and depend on were likely to leave, and stability of any sort was simply not in the picture for the time being.

Now, I would argue that I've been raised to live in instability: my mother seemed quite keen to instill in me her adventurous, un-settled spirit that she had in youth in my sister and I (though I would argue sometimes with no avail). I've always been encouraged to try new things, enjoy my freedom, live while I'm still young, etc. I don't think I've done an especially good job at that. Sure, I've traveled, lived in another country (England--which arguably isn't that much of a stretch), lived in inner-city Los Angeles, been involved in things that are really important to me while on campus, blah blah blah. I hope all of this looks good on a resume. Whilst participating in all of these privileged activities, I haven't been able to shake the feeling that life is just not about what you do, but who you are. Or, more precisely, what you do that stems out of who you are becoming. The importance of this very fine distinction is something that been haunting me since Los Angeles term, and haven been gratefully learning since Oxford.

I've been able to evade my feelings of anxiety, panic, and loneliness with various hours of work and time spent with my temporary roommates and friends--most of whom will be leaving and no longer be in close proximity to me anymore. This has been helpful. I should say that our discussions about how lonely and panicked we all feel should have provided comfort to me, but, honestly, it hasn't. (And I have to say this: I sometimes resent the comment "well, I'm going through [insert pain-inducing situation here] right now, too; does that make you feel better in dealing with yours?" How the hell is knowing someone else is going through pain as well as I am going to make me feel better? What kind of sadists are we?) Again, fine distinctions seem to be something we need to practice: there is empathy, and then there is the common acceptance of social ills and "generational struggles" (I suppose?). There is something wrong with the fact that college students feel unprepared to function in society and feel systematically abandoned by their parents and family and that the average twenty-something now experiences a quarter-life crisis. That is wrong--I am making a value-judgement here.

I know that I am speaking of the angst of the middle- to upper-middle class educated white experienced (forgive my generalization). In most parts of the world (including in this country), we should be rejoicing in the fact that we are alive--and that's the exact point. We are so isolated from community and fragmented within our society, we can't even recognize lifewhen it surrounds us. I can't believe I've gotten to this point in my life, but I'm about to reference a Zulu proverb that my old boss quotes with slightly irritating frequency: a person is a person through others. I really don't believe that we can truly be who we were lovingly and intentionally created to be unless we are being reciprocally supported, invested in, and developed by our community--those who love us the most and with whom we travel on the road that leads towards the same goal. My community, the church, fashions its focus towards the cross, and we are constantly simultaneously holding and sharpening each other with the implications of that vision in mind.

Ha. I always tend to bring it back to the cross and the church. Guess it's quite evidential that my perspective's gone through a paradigm shift this semester...

I'm not sure what the conclusion of this blog should be. I honestly didn't want to include any hopeful musings about the church or of God when I started it, because I really wanted to dwell in the reality of the severe loneliness that most people can acutely relate to. I guess this blog is long enough without adding any other banter to it. I just hope people starting thinking about and discussing what they are experiencing, and then maybe commit--in small or big ways--to fight it. Eradicate it.

Lord, may we, through the guidance of your Holy Spirit, discipline each other to fight the fragmentation and isolation that is a direct result of individualism.

note...

It's amazing how much shit absorbs sound. When you take all of your shelves that are filled with things, dressers that are filled with things, etc. away, you simply hear so many more sounds. Maybe that's why we fill our lives with shit and crap and things we simply don't need: it absorbs the bouncing echos of our cries of hurt and pain that we can't help but utter.

[prayer 1]

Lord of all that was, is, and is to come, grant us the grace to live outside of ourselves.

In a world that promotes individualistic ideology and self-fulfilling consumeristic tendencies, may we as your people be audacious enough to live lifestyles that pervasively speak against a culture that seeks to fragment and disconnect us. May Your Holy Spirit give enough fortitude to reduce the noise of self-obsession that permeates our lives so we are able to hear the whimpers of the suffering. Give us the courage to leave the paths that lead to success, comfort, and safety, and walk together on the rocky path that Jesus Your Son and our Savior walked, facing the Cross and Kingdom. Turn our heads away from facing our impending futures, personal goals, and plans of self-promotion to face the poor, broken, and discarded that sit and lie next to us every day.

Create us to be a Body, affix us together, so that we are no longer ourselves, but Christ who lives in us. Give us the great privilege of being Jesus, the Body of Christ, the Crucified One who was buried, the Risen Savior who makes all things new, to the world. We pray in hope and for hope for the establishment of Your future eternal Kingdom, but ask that You give us the grace and strength to live as though we are living in it today.

hope.

I am carrying a little white stone with the word "HOPE." written on it in red permanent ink. Whenever I work on my senior sem paper, I set it out in front of me so I am always reminded that I am to live in hope for the future.

When this is over, I am going to place it next to a girl bathroom as an alter of prayer for all women who walk through it who still live in the shadows, are coming out of them, and those who are survivors. I'm rather excited about it.

That's all.

its the little things...

I am excited at the prospect at a few theology acquaintances that have amazing things to think may end up at Duke in a few years, as I [hopefully] will. I find lots of hope in that...

////

I had lots of ideas of what I was going to write about in this blog whilst I was avoiding working on homework for just this moment. I guess all I have to say is that I really need help from God and others to get through this, even though just typing as a heading for my notes 'Types of Abuse against Women' makes me a little nauseous. Please pray for me, I really don't know if I have the strength to do this on my own. Ask me to let you in, if you are willing--that will do more for me than anyone could ever imagine.


I think I'm justified smoking until all of this is over. But that's just me.

why is this SO beautiful??

This is what I do when I don't want to write about Kant or Kierkegaard (especially them together).



*tears, weaping ensues...*

last night...

Last night I received more hope and assurance in Christ than I have ever before--I may be healed. I don't know if I am, but I have faith and hope that if we are in Christ, all things will be made new. God spoke to my office family while we were all in prayer last night--God gave Adam prophetic words that brought me to tears. I knew that I was experiencing 'church' last night, for I was surrounded by love and grace and acceptance, which was fueled by the Spirit of God that we chose to lean out into.

I suppose this is what I get for listening to God: terrifying, challenging, and beautiful intimacy with other--the intimacy that I know I need in order to heal. I'm stilling living in anxiety about this movement God is doing right now: I go wake up feeling awkward and anxious and regretful, though I laid my head on my pillow the night before with a peace that surpasses all understanding. I know that I am being formed: God reminded me that discipleship in Christ does not mean that God does not remove pain from our lives or bodies, but blesses it, so that we may stand, or sit, or lie besides those who hurt most in the world. I pray that God blesses this internal pain to my body, that I never forget it, so that others may experience Christ when I am with them, as part of His body.

I also pray that grace supersedes my doubts, and that Andrew is fully healed as well. May it be so--amen.

Senior Sem.

("The cross of the Church should always bear the image of the crucified Christ." I'm pretty sure that's the sweetest thing I've ever written.)

I am currently (literally, like, right now) working on the section my Senior Seminar thesis about the Church as the Body of Christ, and what it means to live a Eucharistic lifestyle. If this does not make any sense to you in the off-set, then the following part of it will not help illuminate that in the least. Or maybe it will...anyway, read this and tell me what you think.

Therefore, as the living, breathing Body of Christ, the church enacts the liturgy of the Eucharist not only during Sunday gathering, but also throughout the week by ministering to the world “after the fashion of Christ”, bearing testimony to Him and His Kingdom . We are to bring the life of Christ to the world, the life of His future Kingdom, and we do this by modeling the life of Christ: we enter into the places that no one else will stoop down to, befriend those who are not allowed to be fully human, and insist that the legitimacy of the social forces that allow for these very situations be called into question. Jesus’ social ethics are to be normative for the Church, including the ‘ethic’ of the cross. Jesus Christ lived so pervasively against the Powers the Be that he was killed, and, inevitably, the Church as the Body of Christ in the world will come up against the same powers: as Cavanaugh argues, the very fact that the Church participates “in a communal and public discipline of bodies” of the Eucharist will “be engaged in a direct confrontation with the politics of the world” .

For the Church to ‘count the cost’ of discipleship, we must remember that Jesus said if we would come after Him, we are to “deny [ourselves] and take up [our] cross and follow [Him]” (Mt. 16:24); we are not at liberty to define the meaning of ‘cross’ in regards to how suffering may be manifested in our individual lives—when Jesus said cross, He meant ‘instrument of death’, and when He said ‘follow me’, He was standing on the path that led to Jerusalem. The cross of the Church should always bear the image of the crucified Christ: to be a disciple of Christ and to participate in His Kingdom, we are “to share in that style of life of which the cross is the culmination” , the life of social nonconformity .

However, the Church never forgets that the death of Jesus on the cross was not an expression of the pinnacle of social and metaphysical evil’s power in the world, or a necessary act that ensures individual’s entrance into the Kingdom. The cross was the destiny of Christ, which He accepted; in fact, it was the culmination of His life, His purpose, His ethics, and was the fullness of His glory and “the inauguration of the kingdom”. As Yoder states: “the cross is not a detour or a hurdle on the way to the kingdom, nor it is even the way to the kingdom; it is the kingdom come” . If the Church to be the Body of Christ to the world—living out the lifestyle of the kingdom, the new social ethic, “a new pattern for the human community” made possible by the cross, then it must live and work in anticipation of the suffering and death that comes as a direct result of coming up against the powers of this world.

furthermore...

"But as he descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart: How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city. Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?

Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache. It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands. Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst.

Yet I cannot tarry longer."
-Kahlil Gibran


P.S. favorite quote from chapel this year, by far:
"Girl, let me tell you: "ooohh, he's so hot!" But so are the pits of hell!!!"
yes.

P.P.S. this may be my least favorite quote:
"A woman's heart should be so hidden in God that a man will have to seek Him to find her." What the hell does that even mean??!!

Indeed...

I graduate from college in 4ish weeks. I feel that this should be the prerequisite statement for everything that I say or do in the next few weeks, because it is essentially the best excuse that such a neurotic person as myself could ask for:
"Why are you spending all of your money on caffeine-infused beverages and chocolate-covered pretzels?"..."I graduate from college in 4ish weeks."
"Why do you randomly burst out in song and dance in your living room to Jay-Z's 'Big Pimpin'?"..."I graduate from college in 4ish weeks."
"Why are you rambling on about the intricate relationship between post-colonialism and the slow but inevitable extinction of the snowy spotted owl?"..."I graduate from college in 4ish weeks."
"Why are you writing blogs and playing on facebook instead of working on your Senior Seminar paper, of which the culmination of the success and purpose of the last four years of your life, nay!, your lifetime's educational experience in its entirety, hinges on?"..."I graduate from college in 4ish weeks."

Well, that was fun. I'm glad I'm using my brain power for such formative exercises. Jesting aside, I am operating within the chaos of my life with a graceful, soothing calm--I really should be living and breathing in so much more anxiety than I am. Perhaps it's because I've internally surrendered: I know that I am not going to finish this chapter of my life at the academic success that I have been holding myself to up until this point, and I'm OK with that. I will probably turn in papers rather late (a habit I've been perfecting lately, unfortunately. Thank you very much, Oxford. Thanks alot.), I will probably not do that well on this test or that exam, and I definately will not graduate with the institutionally-granted honnors as I had hoped too. C'est la vie.

But I really think it's something deeper: I think that I am operating within this hope and peace when I would typically be an utter wreck because, well, I've grown. I've grown to love. I've grown to hope. I've grown to pray. I've grown to participate. I've grown to wait, gracefully.

This semester has been a formative time of self-reflection, God-reflection, challenge, a little heartache, but mostly peace, comfort, and utter joy in the promises of Christ because of His Resurrection. Tonight at senior chapel, Brian (my old youth pastor whom I worked under while on PFB staff) spoke, and sitting in North UTCC hearing him preach made me realize just how far God has taken me: before, while still at his church, I would have listened but held an inner monolouge of critique and cynncism, or I would have sat in the back of the room, just like all of my friends on staff were. I have always dearly loved Brian, but I always thought, frankly, he was wrong and I was right. However, tonight, though there was extensive dualistic, "forgiveness of the individual soul" talk (as is the case in nearly every contemporary Evangelical setting in the West), I heard the truth and glory of God spoken clearly: "He is risen. Did that do anything when [the passage] said that?" Oh, did it. That is the hope we have in new creation, in the Kingdom of God, that Jesus, though a complete ineffective failure in this world, defeated death, evil, bondage, slavery, and the social powers that confine us and make us less human to each other and ourselves, is risen. And we only respond with, "He is risen, indeed!" once a year, and spend the rest of the time reminding people that "Jesus died for your sins".

I believe that if we are in Christ, there is new creation: both in ourselves, and for the whole world. How beautiful is that??!! All things are made new. I am becoming a new creation--a reality which I think is rather visible at this time in my life especially. When I spent the first portion of my spring break with my mom in San Diego, we had a really good talk (a treasured rarity) in which she stated that I am more like 'myself' than I have been in years. I replied with a long list of experiences, woes, problems, and downright terrible things that have happened to me in that time period which accounts for the way I am, and I would like to say that one of us in the end attributed this point at journey's end to the grace of God and praised God for that, but we didn't. However, I will now: I really do believe that "He rescuded me because He delighted in me" (2 Samuel...something. I failed Awana.). Praise God. Praise God that I now have eyes to see and I now have ears to hear the truth of the cross and resurrection, and that now I am learning to turn my eyes to cross and let the path of Christ direct my own.

I PRAY that this can be more than theological jargon that I spout off and become a reality, and soon. I especially PRAY (and feel free to joing me in this) that this intentional community/outreach home that we might start at Mountainside takes off, because I can't think of anything else that I would rather be doing for the next season of my life that living as church and being church to my local community, day in and day out.

Well, this is not the direction that I thought this blog would go--I thought I would just go on about how nice it feels to be whole and think good of yourself, how I love recently viewed Bridget Jone's Diary, because though Bridget Jones has virtually no redeeming qualities about her, Colin Firth still loves her "just the way she is" (and if that don't give a girl hope, then what can?), and how much I love my sister and how happy I am we had our short time together, but I didn't. Maybe I will in the future. Maybe I'll just tell you about it, if you ask. (I probably will--I just adore self-analyzing myself and talking it to others.) In the end, it all comes back to Christ, so I just took a shorter path to arrive at the place I was destined to anyway.

If this mess of words and thoughts gives you hope and makes you smile, then that's beautiful. If it makes no effing sense to you in the least, then I'm really sorry, I wish I made more sense to more people and could articulate myself with more grace and poise than I do. Blessings, either way.

Peaceandlove.

what i feel sometimes (all the time)

"And I think the world of myself
But the world doesn't think that much of me" --Brandi Carlile

I really don't think it's a self-confidence issue--it's a lack of validation.

That's all.

Peace

hole-y moment

ye-ye-yeah!!!!! it's been FOREVER since i've wanted to do this, and i finally punched a hole in my face tonight. i am my own person...well, I'm God's person, but i'm pretty sure God's ok with this.

I would like to thank Misty Jo and Naomi the pacifist Viking for joining me tonight, Squeeze at Anomaly for doing such a superb job with my left nostril, and all of my friends and others who have maintained nose hoops over the years, providing me the inspiration for doing this. (Oh, and hopefully mom and dad for not killing me when they find out.)

peaceandlove.

(Oh, i have $10 gift certificates for piercing there, if anyone is interested...)

for a friend...

(less specific than the original letter)

I know it's borderline impossible to believe in a truth or element about yourself when you don't see it there, especially when a lot of your self-worth and self-knowledge hinges on it, but maybe we all need to learn how to step out of our self-perceptions and let our loving, supporting community--who we trust in--help develop our identity. I need your help in believing that I am worth it; you need our help to believe that you are too: that you are very smart, capable, intelligent, and wise. So don't worry about school [or anything else that anyone out there sheds tears over because they simply don't feel good enough]--of all of the things in life, it is not something that should hold much weight in your definition of yourself. I think that's why I get frustrated when people recognize it as part of my identity: it's just something I do, not something that makes me who I am. And if it's something that you just do, then it can easily be something that you don't do. Friend, you matter, and are so good in areas that are more important than school--I really believe God gifted you that way. And I know the world tells us school is something that we should be good in, that you aren't as worthy if you aren't as good at it, but you know what? Fuck them! We are worthy because of the cross, and we are good because of Christ. In the future Kingdom of God, it doesn't matter shit if you passed a certain class or whether or not you got good grades. From the perspective of the Kingdom, from Jesus' point of view, those things just fade into obscurity.

So, know that you are good, because of the God you seek to serve through serving others everyday; because of the breath and Spirit of God you dwell in daily, because of Hebrew letters tattooed on the wrists and neck of a friend, because of the crosses drawn on the feet of two brothers we know and love, and because of the Latin on my back that proclaims that we are all children of God. Any other qualifier is meaningless, so much so that in response we laugh at them, joyfully and hopefully like children who are delighted to run into the open arms of their Daddy (or Mommy). So, breathe. Smile. Delight in the rain. Do a cartwheel. Smoke a cigarette. Pray to believe in who you are, the whole and beautiful person made by God. You are loved so dearly by so many people--let that be enough to get you through the day. Let the comfort and love of God, the Father, Son, and Spirit allow you to sleep peacefully at night; and let the hope of the Cross and the Future Kingdom--that is here, but not yet--grace your heart that you can get up every morning and delight in each new day.

We are constantly being made new. What hope and joy and peace we have in that promise.


Someone moving in my heart told me to write this for a specific friend, but its love and sincerity is extended to all who read it.

"now i'm gold..."

(will be elaborated on, once i have time to breathe....)

Here are some recent developments in my life:

*I drink WAY too much coffee. I'll pay for the shitty Pura Vida home brew, just because it's cheap and gets the job done.
*I love running? And miss it when I can't do it? Who am I???
*Oxford made me a bad student, or at least a good procrastinator, and senioritis is making me apathetic, so I don't get my homework done on time, skip class and chapel, and basically give a real birdie to the authority of APU. I even take unopened drinks into the library.
*There's a boy for whom I will go out of my way to make sure I run into. Nothing more, nothing less...
*I'm writing the word 'gold' on my hand every day. It's a reminder that I'm worth that much.

These two songs are characterizing my life this week:
"This and that" by Denison Witmer ("All of the words keep coming/for me to settle down...she sits on the bed/she's so beautiful/she thinks that I'll be scared of what she's feeling...I'm feeling like this/if you can live with that.")
"Silver Lining" by Rio Kiley ("Oh, I'm not going back...I was your silver lining/but now I'm gold.")

I finally got the song...

This is how it went down:


all of the words keep coming
for me to settle down
but i think i heard us falling
before we hit the ground
so much for my dark takes
on how we got this far
funny that we can't make a thing
of what we really are

* she sits on the bed
she's so beautiful
she thinks i'll be scared of what she's feeling
it's time you ought to know
time you had the facts,
"i'm feeling like this, if you can live with that."

i don't believe in some things
like living for myself
and i don't believe in loving
unless there's someone else
--Denison Witmer, 'This and That'

marriage

(excerpt from my journal entry written in church last night)

Finding a spouse seems like such an arduous, impossible task. A husband, sure, no problem, I can do that. Look pretty, promise fidelity, and savor in the shared passions, food tastes, and moral fortitude. But to find a spouse, a man who is willing to hold my hand as we walk towards the cross together, to never loose sight, to go out into God's coming Kingdom, to run to Jesus? And perhaps start holding some children in our arms while continuing along the path, standing erect in the face of voiced good-intentioned advice and concerns of family members and greater society, tattooing the conviction of the cross on our bodies, which we are wholly willing to sacrifice. How can we find each other (I am concerned with sheer ability here)? How can two people, who are equally willing to commit themselves to each other's discipleship, find each other?

This is what I think Christian marriage should be. I am not so assured in my impending own. What a choice to make...

here i am

Might I be pretentious enough to assume that you would want to get to know me? I guess if you are reading my blog, then perhaps you have some latent interest to the inter-workings of the woman that is Melanie Kayla Dosen ('cause, really...I don't think I'm that interesting to listen to unless you want to know what's going on in my life). So, for you, whoever you are out there, I've composed a list of songs that I'm convinced were written for me. (Yes, John and Paul wrote a song for me about 20 years before I was born. I'm that fantastic.)

Anyway, my beloved fans (or stalkers), here is a tentative list of songs you should listen to if you really want to get to know me. I'm pretty sure they speak well for themselves. For all you gentlemen out there, here's a freebee: if you listen to this list and actually apply it in conversation and interaction with me, you've pretty much found the way to my heart. That, and puppies. The later actually probably holds more weight.


To quote Misty Jo Wise: "You're hilarious, Mellie Poo."

I know, Misty, I know.


Here ye go:
"Save the People" from Godspell
"Doubting Thomas" by Nickel Creek
"Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole" by Martha Wainwright
"Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen, as preformed by Rufus Wainwright (not Jeff Buckley, I know. judge away.)
"Sparrow" by Simon & Garfunkel
"I Like Giants" by Kimya Dawson
"Empty" by Ray LaMontagne
"Paper Doll" by Denison Witmer, as preformed by Rosie Thomas
"Blackbird" by The Beatles

(I've just about bared my soul on the internet. Gross...)

Smokes, rain, and therapy

I'm pretty sure that is the best title ever...

These three things are happening in my life right now. One of them I am proud of myself for doing; one, not so much, but I am excusing it by proclaiming (that's right, a proclamation) that it's my right, and I need a little escapism once in awhile. and i'll stop when i move home in 3ish months. The third I have absolutely control over and I am just happy it's happening right now, because I am thankful that our environment can still produce rain and it reminds me of England.

But yeah, life is interesting right now; I write a semi-colon instead of colon because I'm never quite sure just exactly how to qualify and justify that statement. Really great, amazing, God-graced things are happening; really hard, awful, emotionally draining things are occurring too. Some of those things are one in the same. I guess these feelings must rival with a prisoner's who's wrists are finally let free from years in chains: the new-found grace and freedom of movement is exhilarating, but they still have to acknowledge the bare wounds and pain that is a result of being entrapped for so long. (And for those of you who are aware of the still-pretty-new changes in my life, that is NOT what I am referring to. Let's just say I am not going to counseling to talk about my recent break up....)

I'm really hopeful for the future. I am hopeful for where I go next. I am hopeful for new people that I get to meet and for the new relationships that develop. I am hopeful for the disciple of Christ that I am becoming, even though it, frankly (like I'm never not frank), it scares the shit out of me. I am thankful to regain that pure joy in life and in the Lord that I have not experienced for years.

In sum, these two things are defining my life right now:

by far the best album in my life right now...

aaaannnddd, this. oh this:

read this. that's all i have to say. read this and i will talk you through it, if you want.

anyway, that's it. i dearly, genuinely love you all. and if i don't know you, i'm sure i will love you once we get to know each other.
peace.

I'm convinced I'm going crazy

It is far too late to be writing this right now. I should be, oh, I don't know, reading for my THREE research papers I have this term!! Welcome back to the States...
But, actually, I am feeling really good about this semester: I've made so many changes in my life, my goals are completely different than they were 6 months ago, and my aim in life has greatly altered, so it's nice to only fit two huge time commitments--school and work--in my life. I need time to breathe, to reflect, and to pray. Lots of prayer. I've been neglecting that for awhile, it's time I jump on board again.
But, yes, craziness: I think I might apply for an interdisciplinary postgraduate program in Medieval Studies at the University of Bristol, among other schools. I know, what? Medieval? Since when? I told you, I'm crazy. I can't explain why this is exciting to me. This whole, I'm going to apply to theology school and become a theology professor (let alone in England) is just plain insane: I feel so inadequate and ill-equipped to do it. Who do I think I am? My prayer is that the constant tugging of my heart towards this path is of God and not of myself, not of my innate desire to fill the void in my heart that I recently vacated. I know what we do isn't what the Christian life is all about: it's who we are; but, still, I think who we are is deeply reflected in the decisions we make, and the risks we are willing to take. I can't tell you how a Masters in Medieval Studies would help anybody in the world, really, but I wonder if our relationship to the world and our vocation has a cause and effect relationship like that. Also, who's to say it doesn't?--history is essentially to understanding who we are, especially if it concerns our worldview. And, like my friend pointed out to me tonight, I have at least a year to contemplate what this deal is all about with grad school and if this is the right path for me, whatever that means. I really would like to stop trying to justify every action I make that doesn't involve me moving to Peru or Botswana or Calcutta to being a good person. This is all self-inflicted, but I do have a twinge of guilt in my heart every time I think about how I'm not doing that. And how I don't want to do that, particularly. And how I want that to be okay.