madison moves madly to the magical mystery music

twothousandthirteen december twenty seventeen forty-nine shenanjoe cville va amurica world

2013-12-20T17:50:00.001-05:00

This is the melancholy post. This is the taking-advantage-of-the-feelings-of-this-moment post, before the feelings diffuse away, end with the final chords of the emo song in the background, get forgotten.

This is the melancholy post. The post fueled by a bitter mug of medium roast, drenched in this perfect pandora station mix that loops JohnMayerEricHutchinsonEdSheeran and has me swaying and singing along like I know what's up with pop culture, but pausing. all. the. time. Sit back.

Cause this is the melancholy post. Melancholy now, because I've been angry and I've been stressed and I've been so transparently childish - screaming in the car and throwing things around and wanting to starve myself in anger but never being able to because that's not actually how I deal with being mad or sad - and I'm tired now.

This is the melancholy post. This is the post yearning to make something productive of the melancholy -- not because I need to justify it or because I am a relentless busybee or because I want to get out of it, even (because admit it, doesn't it feel good to be endlessly steeped in your own melancholy? That's why they call it a pity party, right?), but because I just want to record these moments

in this melancholy post.

This is the melancholy post.

s t r e s s

2013-12-19T23:57:00.000-05:00

The verdict on stress-inducement of grey hair is inconclusive - apparently it does bring about premature greying, but only if you're genetically predisposed to that anyways, so it's technically not, but it technically is, kind of deal.

Stress-induced greyness or not, the truth in my life this semester is that I have been stressed and I have seen an alarming increase in the grey hair count on top of my head. As far as I'm concerned, I'm in need of a culprit to blame for the hairs, and stress will be it. And a culprit to blame that stress on... hmmm...

I've been so stupidly stressed this semester, it's hard to believe. Hard to remember the carefree, chill-is-my-default-mode girl [guurrll] I used to be; used to always sort of pride myself on being. All my brain remembers is the stress I've been steeped in - I feel like stewed apples, slobbery and mushy and distinctly, definitely no longer truly Apple in their essence. Their core. Har! There's something very sad and very wrong (but also very hopeful and cinnamony) about this metaphor, but I'm not gonna worry about it.

But yes. Stress is just another kind of pride and stubbornness. Not wanting to, or not being able to, let go of one's own plans and imaginings of how things should be and getting all messed up when the reality that plays out doesn't match up to the preconceived versions of things. Oh God, help me to let go. I am a sleep-deprived, eye-twitching mess, but I am letting go of the things, am holding onto you. Let me hold onto the right things and fling flang flung all the others. Like grey hairs. Or at least wondering about alllll the reasons how they might have gotten to the top of my head.

Woosh and woosh.

10000miles to california

2013-12-18T02:14:00.004-05:00

Give people a chance before you decide in your head what you think they're gonna say - they just might surprise you.

I wonder how many people I have left to meet in my lifetime - surely hundreds, maybe tens of hundreds, although these are just words I'm throwing out there because I am really bad with conceptualizing big numbers. 10,000 miles? That's...like...to California, right? But yeah, I wonder how the spread of your meet-people statistics works out, over the course of a lifetime.

There must be a big crunch, an especially thick period of people connections and friendships and acquaintances, at the beginning of your life - starting with toddler/childhood when relationships are as easy as sharing a sandbox and a lollipop, and then through college, during which you're brought together by the forces of late night swirly-eyed library dates and other mysterious forces like music or course registration or alcohol. And then maybe it tapers off - you find your mate and you settle down into Mid-Life, and togetherly, have your Mid-Life couple friends and make relationships with kids you've made together. Oh, and then maybe you have another little peak, through all the connections through the connections of your offspring. Then, real middle age, then old age - during which you cultivate relationships that are already there. Not really looking for more, and other people around you around your age probably not really looking for more either, which is convenient. Except when it's not, which always seems to be the case.

So yeah. I wonder how many people I have left to meet in my lifetime. Have I already met the best friend of the next decade? Has my heart blindly friend-zoned the person I'm actually gonna marry? Has he noticed me?

I forget the train of thought that led me here.
It is 2 a.m. and I shall now start to read a book for fun, because it's winter break.

Winter break, je t'aime.

familiarity engineerity

2013-12-17T13:41:00.000-05:00

There are things that make me drool in awe in familiar ways, such as this:

unfortunate frame, but this is Sarah Kay on TED!

By familiar, I mean reaching into well-worn corners of my heart down oft-trodden roads. Feelings I'm used to feeling, inspired by thing I'm used to being inspired by. Things in this category include: KMaus's Shakespeare lectures, learning human lessons through unexpected/old literature, my mom's compassion for the randomest (sometimes, in my selfish opinion, undeserving) things, Binky staring lovingly and meaningfully at the twinkling lights on our Christmas tree, and spoken poetry. See above. These are things that often and expectedly and familiarly tug at my heartstrings, by virtue of the fact that I am emotionally-inclined (rather than logical), that I am a big-picture person (rather than details), that I am an English major, etc. etc.

But then there are times when the odd engineer will truly, seriously inspire me. Not just through vicarious excitement through their excitement for a science-y, tech-y project of theirs, but through genuine (if shallow) sharing. Really taking the time to explain to me what, when, how, and why they do the work they do, what they are learning in which obscure- and scary-sounding course this semester, and how these things will change the world.

Then I realize (again and again and again) why we are meant to live in society; how we are such inevitably social creatures. Because one person can't handle all these fantastic and confusing things alone; one isn't enough to figure out the mysteries of the planets and intricacies of the human psyche and be a mad poet (usually) - we need each other, to access these unfamiliar corners of the wonder that is This World, given to us wrapped in a great big red bow of Christmasesque cheer, not corny, just true.

cause sometimes, engineers will surprise you with the kind of poetry they Favorite on youtube.

a project:

2013-12-16T20:16:00.001-05:00

To write here once everyday, starting with the short-term commitment of winter break (12/16/13-1/12/14),

cause I think it would be a healthy sort of rediscovering my writer's voice, and a good airing of some thoughts that fester, or dissipate, whoosh, smoke. Hopefully a lot of thought organization and flowering and entertaining blah-blah that makes thinking out loud easier.

Feels like it should be a New Year's Resolution, but Love of Arbitrarily Significant Dates isn't a good enough reason to put off healthy impulses for even half a month.

Winter Break, je t'aime.

"it is the rain that will strengthen"

2013-12-05T14:14:00.002-05:00

I dunno what it was about the moment, but these different things came together just now and imploded (boOom...) into unselfish tears free-fallin' down my face.

1. http://lapeaudourse.blogspot.com/2013/11/mille-tristesses-decoulent-de-linstant.html

2. Cela fait "déjà" 7 ans que j'ai perdu mon grand-père, mon "second papa". Il me manque beaucoup, malgré le temps qui passe. Voir souffrir et s'affaiblir une personne que l'on aime, cela est une épreuve que le temps ne peut malheureusement pas effacer. Mais ce sont aussi ces épreuves qui font "grandir", qui nous permettent de nous ouvrir aux autres, de leur dire à quel point on tient à eux. Elles redonnent un sens au mot "vivre", nous ouvrent les yeux sur la vraie valeur des choses. La vie continue, mais différemment. Je suis de tout cœur avec toi.

---------^it's one of the comments to the post in 1. I'm gonna try to translate it. Not cause I think lots of people will be outraged by the lack. Not even to share the exact sentiment I felt cause of it, because translations are slippery with feelings, anyways. Not because I think it's astoundingly artistically wrenching in a literary, aesthetic way, but just cause it's what I was reading when the first tear plopped out. I'm gonna try to translate it so the few of you who read this don't think I'm a showoff uppity aloof French-speaking person. -----------

"It's "already" been 7 years since I lost my grandfather - my "second dad." I miss him a lot, despite the time that's passed. To watch someone you love suffer and wane, that's an ordeal that time, unfortunately, can't erase. But it is also through these hardships that we grow; that we learn how to open ourselves to others; tell them how precious they are to us. It is these hardships that remind us what it really means to live, that open our eyes to the true worth in things. Life goes on, though differently. My heart goes out to you."

3. http://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=czFgKa7YcIQ

4. Writing a paper that feels like the culmination of a semester. Academically and emotionally. And feeling so out-of-the-blue humbled.

5. And in the sneaky way that end-of-term papers and final exams (and ends of terms in general...and emoish folksy songs on repeat...) tend to have, just reflecting from this tail end of the semester back on what's passed thus far and how I've grown and how there's such a long way to go, still. But for a moment, closing my eyes to future things and past things, too, and letting eyelids sqeegee out tears that are just there and enjoying all the intricate little fragments of this implosion.

Hm I think I've just figured out that this list is in reverse order of significance.

Sometimes,

2013-11-23T22:33:00.000-05:00

all you need to do is reach out and tap on shoulders and put those listening skills to rest.

It's crazy how admitting that things are very not okay starts to make them feel much more...okay.

Dear self,

Ask for help.

Be honest.

Use shorter sentences.

And stop this "dear self" stuff, too. It's more than okay to be not okay.

11/12/13

2013-11-12T23:30:00.000-05:00

It's November 12th, 2013 today. That's 11/12/13, which is a date that I really like because I like dates like 11/11/11 and 01/23/45 and like 3/8/38 etc. etc. because I am a selective sucker for certain superstitious things like making wishes at aesthetically pleasing time stamps (11111111111111111!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and the wearing of pajamas inside-out in hopes that it will somehow make the cold sky precipitate snow.

But today's specialness feels different and unfortunately uncelebrated, cause the only reason that made me really pause and take in its 111213-ness is the Christmas wreath I saw hanging, all smug and sparkly, on the sign at the entrance to the mall that I pass by on the drive home.

Christmas?! On... 11/12/13? That's way more than a month of Christmas season, Fashion Square. I'm no opponent of making the world go around via healthy economic transactions but at moments like these it's hard not to cringe judgily at the monetary greed that drives decisions like these - decisions that are distorting our conception of how long a holiday season should be, how much of what things we need to have, the immediacy of what Truly Important Things are.

This is depressing in more ways than just the one described in the paragraph above (get ready for the m e t a paragraphial of this post) - the even more pathetic thing, the compounded sadness of this whole realization is the fact that all this was my train of thought at the reflection upon a Christmas wreath + the reminder of a special date, this almost mid-November day of 2013. Yeah, I feel effectively...old.

This feeling certainly isn't an unfounded one, for I am older on this day, at this moment, than I ever have been before. heheh

But beyond the obviousness of the oldness, it's something I've been feeling a lot in daily life lately. That I feel old and worn-out sometimes these days, and just not as sparklyshiny as before. There could be many reasons for this. The fact that it's fourth year, and it's a regular fourth year thing to do to be generally confused/lost/worried cause I'm living the last year of my institutionally pre-planned life. The fact that there are some huge homelife adjustments this year that are revealing huge sinfulnesses in me that are all ugly and hard to look at and deal with and live in. The fact that school feels manageable and good and enriching right now but grades are pathetically not reflecting this inner truth. Maybe even the fact that I'm back in Charlottesville from a whirlwind year of being all over the place and I'm secretly going through reverse culture shock (though...I doubt this last one. Who knows, though. I did get lost on the buses again today. Hm).

The fact that I just went through this "There could be many reasons for this" thing as opposed to waxing poetic in a wordy, nerdy, adjectiveful paragraph about the state of the sparklyshiny, which, honestly, is what I feel like firstyear me would have done.

The fact that I feel like I can't write those kinds of first year blogposts anymore, full of feely swirls and late-night droopy eyeballs soaked in high-pitched Ingrid music because frankly, it's not even midnight yet and it's been a few hours already since sleepiness started setting in. And because frankly, even as I read my own old posts, I have little moments of shameshivering (just in tiny bits like after you pee and you suddenly feel cold cause of all that body-temperature liquid having left your body), at my own foolishness and self-consciousness that I can see firstyear me shivering with, as if she (I?) could feel me (she?!), fourthyear me, looking back and judging.

hehehe @_@ indeed.

I recently had an insightful conversation with a fellow same brainwave rider that was challenging and helpful. Challenging cause it messed up one of my stock Life-Defining Phrases; helpful because it messed up one of my stock Life-Defining Phrases. Which is was "full-circle experiences/stories/______", usually in the context of how wonderful they are and how much I love them and how grand and useful they are in narration.

But this friend kinda furrowed his brow at this and wondered at the validity of this whole thought. He asked if a truly full-circle story/experience/whatever is really worth anything, if you're coming back exactly to the same place as before, and I couldn't do more than defend the aesthetically pleasing shape of a perfect circle. Blah blah. So I offered up the solution of a spiral - a swirl? :) - eloquently put by another friend, Christy.

So okay. So we grow up and grow around and grow spiraly-swirly and feel like we keep coming back to the same rut of things (sometimes even yearn for the sparklyshiny familiarity of those things, and of ourselves) but it is not such a tragic thing to grow up and around. Around and up.

Like going back to Skyline for the fourth time, to stargaze with a consistently chaotic and random group of people for the fourth time, watching the unfolding of midnight skies and forever friendships, as it unfailingly happens, every year. For the fourth time.

But realizing that this time it's our class kids driving up that mountain, younger ones in tow, that now we make gentlemanly gestures in search of keys on top of those mountains cause we are able and we are willing, that we don't pretend to be sparklyshiny when we don't feel it and we share woes about feeling blog-blocked because we're just too old and tired to keep pretending to be things we do not feel. Just honestly and unabashedly enjoying the fact that we loiter in lots after late-night movies "just like in high school!" and delight in God's creation of plant leaves that feel soft like lambs' ears, standing around and sharing these happinesses and woes all together.

And of course, acknowledging the continuation of things in ways that aren't necessarily bad - like the cliched sign-off to the old blogpost by meta-talking about its beginning at the end.

Thank you, God, for Gothic Literature

2013-10-08T13:19:00.000-04:00

How do you navigate through life's struggles?
How do you pick your mate?
What is good? What is evil? What are we?
How do you deal with displacement and abandonment and that foreverlonely you feel in the pit of your stomach, no matter how much you try to squash it down with loud noises and bright lights and even seemingly-worthy Pursuits of Happiness?

"Literature answers philosophical questions with particulars. Novels throw a bunch of people together on a level playing field and have them work out these human problems."

And we watch and learn, laughing and crying and frowning in vicarious pain and joy and ah-hah moments.

That's why people believe in life-saving poetry and stuff. It's how terrible circumstances are redeemed as tools for recovery and encouragement; like how phoenixes rise from their own ashes and how beautiful flowers grow from poop.

Good words to think about on a melancholy Monday afternoon of a fourth-year fall semester.

Thank you, God, for literature.
Thank you, God, for this undergraduate path as an English major.
Thank you, God, for Mysteries of Udolpho and the weepy sensibilities of Emily St. Aubert and for saving us poor unfortunate souls from ourselves.

for a lucky few, life is not so struggley.
though maybe that's an unfair judgment from a haughty perspective.

in love: the story of a burrp

2013-09-12T22:36:00.000-04:00

MY HEART
is full, overflowing, with
this particular combination of gratefulness
+ humility (how undeserving I am; my bones, they feel this)

and astonishment at all this affection, all-provision, all right.

I'm in love --
my heart breaks
my head aches
and vice versa all of it jumbles it

cause I can't ever re: love in any satisfactory format, or quantity,
and cause that's exactly okay;
cause that's exactly why
I'm in love

(cause I can't help it),

For all the poems in the world about soap
and New York hot dogs and
kittens and meta-poetry
(aaaaand parentheses)
could ever express this
this thousand, thousand times!-cliche of a thing,
this love

love,
love,
LOVE.

Today is the day of Undeserved Love Realization. And Today is the day that the Lord has made - I shall rejoice and be glad in it. Let us be glad and rejoice in it!!

So poetry really is the spilling over of soul juices, huh. Cool. It's like this thing just burped itself up, gathered up from all the soul-corners, up from my soul-esophagus, onto the keyboard, onto this blogthing, onto your eyeballs. Boo! Burrp.

seemingly depressing things, franklys, and tattery endings

2013-08-22T02:54:00.003-04:00

Is the best good you can do, ultimately, resignation to mediocrity?

^That seemingly depressing opening sentence was supposed to be the depressing opening to a thoroughly depressing post, and as it was being mentally laid out in the cloudy loops of my brain during the conversation that inspired it, had all the intention of being so. Exactly so.

I'm quietly proud of my parents - humbled, thankful, and awed, often, by my good relationship with them together and him and her as individuals. Though certainly not with everything, my dad is remarkably patient with us. It's admirable and impressive, how determinedly he holds onto his mind and cool as we play the appropriately immature parts of the stubborn little babies we are. Stubborn little babies who got progressively worse and worse at math as the classes changed from Algebra to Trig to Calculus, too, and math was really the least of his troubles with us. It's a terrible thing to abuse, this patience, but no matter how many times we turn our gaping mouths in that unsightly "...huh?" toward him, my dad can erase all the previously explained and start over. And over. And over.

My mom is a little less adept with the stuff regarding repetition - strict no-more-than-three-reps policy here, or you'll pay the price by listening to a(n ironically) repetitive lecture about how You Never Listen for anywhere from 30 minutes to 3 weeks - but her virtues shine through her actions. She's the most compassionate, and untiringly-, uncomplainingly-hardworking person I know. Sometimes when she shares tidbits of her life philosophy with me, it's in the form of offhand slips of verbal gems she just casually and spontaneously tosses about, like dustbunnies that get unearthed in search of something else in the attic-resident trunk. Makes them seem a lot less monumental than they are truly worth, so I sort of have to rub my eyes and stay alert when she does this, and pick up those pieces and tuck them away for further study later, quietly in my room or something.

The two plump paragraphs above deserve [much more than] a whole post of their own, really, but for today, they're just gonna serve as disproportionately-lengthy prefaces to the sentence that shall follow:

I can't really and completely share with them about my vision for the future.

"Vision" being that mystical, vague haze also known as Postgrad Life Plans, and future being that equally unclear patch of mystery time that begins After May. My soon-to-come first-ever institutional void, all of which, thanks to the combination of ~40% my own lack of direction and ~60% lack of desire to communicate with my parents about it, isn't really a subject we have much to discuss about anyways. And which, I know, is a validly-timed and validly-directed sort of discussion for us to be having right about now... But the trouble is that I feel so fundamentally different about what I think I want for my future than they think they do that it's just defeating and deflating to even begin the conversation. A former nurse and current engineer - practical and sensible and realistic as their jobs - talking to an English major - and general Poster Child-result of the blessings and woes of a liberal arts education - who says she doesn't want to teach or go into academia. Yeah cue those womps. Three of them.

Today's, in particular, was disheartening to the point of embarrassed tears. To the point of one whole sigh-filled afternoon, leaving behind its funk long after the actual conversation was over. To the point of that seemingly depressing opening sentence up^ there.

And today's, anyways, was different, too - advice against "all these documentaries I've been watching recently" and inappropriate allusions to the French Resistance movement during WWII all tossed in there like a bowl of discordant fruit salad. Like, with cabbage and mangoes trying to make it jive. All confusion about history and fruits aside, in essence, this is what they told me.

They told me to go with the flow. To just be a ~~regular~~humdrum person, with a ~~regular~~humdrum job. That things don't change. That I am such a small part of the equation, that power is so corrupting, that these social problems are inevitable. And pervasive. And so there. Just live your own life, resign yourself to mediocrity, and try not to get crushed by the forces out there, little one, cause going against the grain of society is a hard, hard thing. And please just get a stable job in a big corporation.

Yup, I am often bitter when I think of hypothetical Other Parents who support their children unconditionally, in anything and everything they are passionate about - especially when object of those passions seem so socially responsible and selflessly beneficial to the world and hopeful and good and objectively easy to root for. [Aside: Parenting, of all styles, must be so hard. It's terrifying. I think well-considered decisions to have children are some of the greatest acts of faith and hope we humans commit.]

But it must be a small sign of growing up that I didn't just shut down at that point in the conversation, cause I dunno - some short amount of time ago, I wouldn't have even stayed at the table for that to get finished. I mean what travesty, right? How could you be so unsupportive and doubtful of what I change I can effect in the world?! You two are the worst stomp stomp stomp etc. I am young and un-trodden upon by society, YOU JERKS, stop trying to nip my potential in the BUD stomp. Let me burn dat ephemeral flame of YOUTH, DANG IT. And why am I so afraid to mention the God aspect of all this to them?

Thank goodness I didn't stomp on out of there like that. Cause the rest of this talk was indeed a healthy reminder of the fact that I am so undeniably a Romantic-Realist, and of my need for equal doses of both sides of that hyphen. That yeah - at least evidenced by the second half of that indecisive self-given identity-label, I am such a child of my parents.

They told me that it's important to be wary of the depressing, deflating effects of those social problems I feel so righteously angered and upset by. That anger - no matter how justified or righteous - is often counterproductive and always energy-inefficient. To remember the beautiful things. To be recharged by beauty and good, to maintain that balance within myself, cause frankly, the world is unbearable without that. It was a gentle, a revolutionary, reminder that I'm allowed to be personally happy in the midst of all this depressing stuff. That it actually helps, in a lot of subtle ways.

And though ultimately, we're still in clear disagreement about what we believe needs to be done - and possibly can be hoped to be done - about the sorry state of this world, and specifically, what I can do about it all (and more specifically...after that graduating business), they. are. right. Absolutely. My specific anger, at least at this particularly powerless point in my life and from this particularly influence-less place in society, burns furiously only against myself. If I don't keep this vague bitterness-against-all-the-ugly-stuff checked and specific and well-informed and most importantly, balanced with generous doses of Good and Beauty in the world, it will probably accomplish very little other than destroy my tiny life. Which, ultimately, is just accomplishing very little. I'm nothing to make a martyr out of. Not yet, anyways. I mean society's just getting finished educating me - and I still have a whole year to go. My time to give back is juuust peeping around the corner. Shy or something.

In more ways than this, so many, it is good to listen to my parents' [basically opposite-from-mine-] opinions and advice. If the fact that they've experienced me (in addition to their own lives, own societal problems, own political frustrations) through my terrible two's and awkward teenage years and all the jazz in between and really, to their fullest human knowledge and ability, want what they believe is the best for me isn't enough, then for the cool and reasoned answer that opposition is healthy in appropriate amounts. It critiques and challenges and sharpens and fosters a better-rounded growth.

Cause everything seemingly depressing, including mediocrity, is sort of a two-sided beast with its very own upside - just as anything seemingly good isn't ever completely, unconditionally Good. Simply put, the world is complicated, and the only control you have over its confusion is your reaction to it all. So I'm thinking, maybe I should alternate these documentary consumptions with Disney movies or something. Not that Disney movies necessarily deserve the label of capital-g Good, but frankly, neither do documentaries. And because, frankly, that's just the first thing that popped into my head and because, frankly, it's fine to not end on a warm, fuzzy note of enlightenment and conclusiveness. Sometimes it's just marking the progress of things, and that's that.

Today

2013-08-14T15:31:00.000-04:00

is gorgeous in a way that makes me want to dress up, just for the pleasure of being outside in pretty clothes that match the pretty weather. And walk the cat. If only the cat would like that.

Break my own rules of "What Constitutes a Blogpost-Worthy Thing"; makes me want to write a whole, corny love warble of a blogpost dedicated to the complicated, perfect conditions that must have constructed this beauty of a day. And then erase it all cause it's not enough. Maybe even negative-enough.

Today! This apple of a day! This day worthy of a hundred thousand picnics!

un-hiatus!

2013-08-12T17:53:00.002-04:00

When you're in need of a scream but not of attention or pity, a good place to get it is in your car - windows down, sunshiny summer morning, driving not-too-fast down a slight downhill curve of a not-too-busy road that you know really well. All the stuff after the hyphen is just additional and personal-choice kind of toppings, so take this advice with those toppingsy grains of salt. The windows down make you feel like you're in the midst of a greater nature than just the surroundings of your car interior, and the sunshiny summer morning will help to diffuse that scream into a smile conclusion. But I have to tell you; the sheepish-grin-because-you-feel-stupid-for-having-to-conduct-alone-screaming-time will feel better than the forced, teeth-baring, cheek-scrunching full-on kind you put on to try that reverse psychology (physiology?) thing on yourself. Probably because the first is more honest.

I have learned a lot of things - have grown a lot - through the time period of this blog's existence. It's been over a year, on three different continents (counting this North American one right now...four! if you count that silly Morocco stint), countless definitions of home, and even more precious, life-changing encounters with people and places than that countlessness.

I have learned - in the end, through practice - what this blog means to me; as opposed to my journal, as opposed to my [now-defunct; RIP] facebook photo albums, as opposed to other people's expectations and other people's travel blogs, too. Hello, place for the recording of daily strawberrys and unabashed unloadings of pictures and ah-hah moment compilations for the glad and the sad days. And the whooshing away of my own designs and careful plans.

I have lived a day-to-day intensity of huge joys and huge wonders and huge, bratty tragedies through a summerful of people from all over the world, in a place which my feeble descriptive skills only render flatly technicolor and uniformly unicorny. Corny.

I have found, time and time again and actually, pretty much from the very beginning, that home is seriously freaking where the heart is. And I know that's seriously freaking cliched, but when you're trapped between a rock and a hard place looking for the right expression at the right moment, a lot of times, cliches will do just the trick to quench your language thirst; scratch that expression itch, whatever floats your boat. Like a cool bottle of Coca-Cola or Diet Mountain Dew or bananaooyoo, whatever your vice.

I have felt indignant and possessive in perhaps the most productive way I have ever been indignant and possessive - on my way to figuring out this whole hyphenated identity thing (bleh) but still raaather far from fixing the whole indignant-and-possessive character flaw thing going on here.

I have taken serious steps toward remedying things like this (and like this), cause I don't want to be a noob anymore. It's about a whole year late, this summer, finally learning to cook things from my momma, but the noob stage of my life is officially over. At least in the kitchen, anyways, and at least in my attitude about it. I won't take any of that damsel-in-distress crap ANY LONGER, SELF, and that's final. Cooking is not as big of an opponent as I used to make it seem with the size of my cowering and whimpering. Harrrrrrumph!

I have finally understood a bit of the love in my grandma's frugality, and held her hands - they tremble now, as in a continuous aftershock of her lifetime of labor, of love - in a way that felt differently warm from the expo hand-holding.

I have learned the beauty of the here and of the now, and the overriding importance of realizing that these here-and-now moments continue and expand. They consume the whole world and your whole life, if you'll just let them. I'm not insisting that I feel good all the time, in every great or cruddy place. Just that there is always beauty in your situation. No matter how bleak. Promise. (Escaping it! for example.)

I have thought a lot about spatial allocations of people in crowded places resulting in all kinds of awkward physical and emotional contact. Or lack thereof.

I have sewn things and grown things and moaned about Friday night things and thought it made me sound grown up. Pffffffffffffffff to the t. But then had other days, too, when I could feel a little better about the moan:grown-up-ness ratio.

I have celebrated a quarter-birthday, then a whole-birthday, then the birthday of this tiny baby of a thing compared to my twenty-two years. [Insert old-man laugh here.]

And I am learning to throw out the repetitive self-consciousness that masks deserving recognition (for...like, growing up, for example!) and have apparently grown up enough to be pretty embarrassed about some of these posts on this here blawg, too. Hurhurhur. And to recognize that the screaming-while-sitting-alone-in-my-car opening probably isn't the best introduction to a post all about how I Learned Life Stuff and am now Grown-up and Mature, Etc. over the course of a year abroad.

But is actually a pretty perfect one if the post is, rather, about the progress of growing up, with all its doubling backs and continued deficiencies and in-spite-of-all-that hopefulness.

Yeah. Closing the full-circle loop.

h i a t u s

2012-05-27T01:26:00.000-04:00

go here, cause madison is moooooving for a while!

The contented smile

2012-04-07T02:44:00.000-04:00

just might be my favorite expression on a person, ever. Woah woah woah huge commitment, I know, and maybe a rash one, but my heart says so in this moment so what am I supposed to do?

The anatomy of the Contented Smile: This particular species of smile means that your face is relaxed, like you are feeling carefree and your face knows all about it. All the muscles are like "lala we are happy and content right now" so there's no tension in your brow, no wrinkly forehead lines of stress or worry. The relaxchillaxness carries over to your eyes, too, so they're all loose and kinda glazed-over-y with a hint of calmness that lifts the corners of your mouth; pulls down the corners of your mouth, ever so gently so your eyes and mouth are smiling almost exactly the same amount, which is kinda hard to make happen when you're smiling anywhere in the middle of the spectrum between the Smile of a Genuine Belly Laughter caliber and like...this face >:( which are two extremes, so it's easy to match the eyes to the mouth, because you're probably truly, genuinely feeling the smiley or the frowny.

The Contented Smile in its natural habitats: Because it is so specific to each person, the particularities of the causes for this smile vary widely. Feeling good cause your stomach is full of delicious food. Knowing that you have a whole summer ahead of you during which you can do...anything you'd like, which includes 'nothing at all.' Visiting an old place where you used to belong and finding that you still belong, that you stand in front of a mini-crowd of smiling and familiar faces. Reveling in the purely "this is so college" experiences of unplannedly eating hushpuppies and milkshakes at midnight. Being immersed in conversation that reveals bits of another person that are so lovely, even when you're kind of a cynic who maybe sometimes likes people better from a distance than right up close. haha. Having finished a monumental task that seemed impossible before but was indeed possible - as these things often are - cause it's done. Walking around outside and reveling at the beauty and feeling so certainly and perfectly loved.

Merits of the Contented Smile: I think the true justification for the fact that this fulfills my category for fave facial expression lies here. The Contented Smile is elusive and unassuming and unpretentious and honest - maybe a random collection of adjectives to describe a single thing, but let me try to explain. There's something lovely in the self-sustainability and self-absorbedness of this smile. It sounds funny to attribute 'self-absorbedness' to something in a positive way, but I guess I'm trying to describe that this smile is...not looking for any attention. It's not flaunting itself to try to indicate to other smilers in your vicinity that you're in agreement, or to communicate to the frowners that they should join you in not being frowny, or to dissipate awkwardness cause no one in the group seems willing to say or do anything except feel uncomfortable, or trying too hard to make friends. It's completely anti-social in the sense that it's not looking for a n y t h i n g from anyone else, which is pretty refreshing. It's totally and honestly welling up from inside yourself, and totally and honestly just happy for happiness' sake. It's unguarded and honest and also elusive, because it's so un-social. It can be difficult to catch something that's so not trying to be caught. But maybe the elusiveness adds to the allure, just cause.

Guess who you are, you who most recently inspired these thoughts in me :)

tried to google image search "contented smile" but
like I said, they're elusive!
So this is a picture of some kittens
in some tea cups.

:E

2012-03-28T07:20:00.000-04:00

Ivory Camaraderie

original text: below below

translated by Madison Lee

The pillars of teeth

Rehearse their ferocious geometry,

But they are innocent

Like the white garments of a nun.

They say, “I open, I bite, I chew

If it is the command, I offer help

To the smile in its happy hour

And protect the flavors

In my humid vessel.”

Teeth are comrades,

Brothers in arms

And of harvests.

If one falls, wounded in the soul,

In the rosy gums,

The others are struck with fear

And astonished, crowd together

Leaning to the sides

In a gesture of camaraderie.

Teeth are drums,

Castanets, pealing,

Choirs in which the tongue

Seeks protection or lattice cover.

They are also tremendous weapons,

Knives from the gunsmiths,

Carnivorous drills

In the bloody gums.

Teeth are the witnesses

To the kisses and the dates.

Monks and loyal lovers,

Suicidal seminarians.

Dientes camaradas

Las columnas de los dientes

ensayan su feroz geometría,

pero son inocentes

como casullas de monja.

Dicen: “abro, muerdo, mastico

si es la consigna, ayudo

a la risa en su hora dichosa

y protejo los sabores

en mi húmeda vasija”.

Los dientes son camaradas,

compañeros de armas

y de vendimias.

Si uno cae, herido del alma,

en las rosadas encías,

los otros se sobrecogen

y en el estupor se apiñan

inclinados a los lados

en gesto de camaradería.

Los dientes son tamboriles,

castañuelas que repican,

corales donde la lengua

busca protección o celosía.

Son también armas tremendas,

cuchillos de las armerías,

trepanadores carnívoros

de las sangrientas encías.

Los dientes son los testigos

de los besos y las citas.

Monjes y amantes fieles,

seminaristas suicidas.

important:

2012-03-15T01:38:00.002-04:00

What makes someone a Smart Person?

record of grace

2012-03-05T15:28:00.000-05:00

The following is a transcript (preeeetty much) of my notes from the GCF Spring Retreat, March 2nd through March 4th. They are lengthy, choppy, personal, confusing. As much as I believe that probably no one will read them (so please don't tell me tl;dr - I already know...haha), I wanted to type them out and put them here as a record of grace and just to read through my own notes again and process them in this way and also to maybe serve as jumping off points for discussions, if anyone wants to talk about any of this stuff with me; wants me to explain myself. They're kind of lacking, because I can't include all the little drawings and stars and various font sizes and exact, scribbly formattings of the actual {non)words in my notebook, but I did my best! I am actually amazed at how many of the sentences are even coherent!! The huge-lettered things are titles of each new entry. Imagine these notes as speaking to you against the background of brown-y, recycled paper, with a gold spiral running down the middle of two pages, in green ink, of scrabbly messy handwriting.

March 2 GCF Spring Retreat PASTOR BYUNG Ham

Living Water vs. Tall Glass of Toilet Water

Jeremiah: drinking from Living Water of JC vs. gutter water cisterns
this THIRST has been with us for a LONG time. (from the time of Adam and Eve!)

Adam & Eve! NEKKID!!
always thirsting, b/c we're looking for ~~glorify~~glory

always trying to decorate, to justify, to self-glorify...because we're THIRSTING for the living water

why does the world constantly tell us to stay thirsty, stay hungry?

b/c it's our nakedness that keeps the economy, the consumerism going

woman at the well...most famous ex. of THIRST in the Bible.

JC was only able to REACH THROUGH to her b/c she confessed, opened up of all her sins.

*we need to be honest w/ God, too *
*we need to stop snacking on the world to satisfy the thirst with temporary znax...*

Luke 19 "Zacchaeus the tax collector"

"Zacchaeus was a CHIEF tax collector and was WEALTHY"
Z was a traitor...tax cheater...against his OWN ppl, Jews

[1. Identity 2. Motivation 3. Idols]

Zacchaeus' idol was $... Greed = stealthy incognito ninja
Pastor B: "너는...욕심이 하나도 없어."

greed=ambition}woah. $is what Pastor B's [parents] came to Am. for.

$ is not GOOD or BAD. Being rich or poor is not a moral alignment. It just has this tendency to blind us, b/c of our already-fallen nature.

When we're around homeless, disabled people, the DISCOMFORT comes from...the fact that they reflect what we are...INSIDE
$ is a wonderful SERVANT, but a horrible MASTER.

broken people...do broken things.

Zacchaeus was a broken man.

When you're serving the Ggod of ______ <-- [$, sex, career, love, romance...], you'll always listen to and obey that.

and then that Ggod says it will justify you...

Zaccaheus: the seeker was being sought <--> JC on a tree.

JC 说: come down from there! I will give you righteousness.
I will make you pure.
I will justify you. } ==> new purpose!
and he (Z) DIDN'T have to contribute...
Micah 6:8 "justice, mercy, humility"
2 ways to fail at understanding this msg:

superiority complex: "I'm not that bad; don't need JC!"
inferiority complex: "I'm too bad to be saved..."

HOW MUCH DO I GIVE? It's just money. My God is You."
if you say "how much do I have to give?" You're still trying to work off your salvation.

with Christ as your idol, you should be able to give up ANYTHING ELSE, BECAUSE of freedom.
God is jealously pursing. So go drink the living water
sex, money, career, beauty...They're all just gifts. They're great gifts! But THEY ARE NOT LIFE. JESUS IS LIFE.
When Jesus is life, you're a slave to:

righteousness, love, kindness, gentleness, forgiveness, peace, patience...

Small Group

the general trend is positive. don't be discouraged.

[drawing of a squiggly graph with a general positive trend]

When you learn smtg new, it won't stick if you're living
THE SAME LIFESTYLE & just trying to add the new thing into it. the LIFESTYLE must alter to fit the new learning!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * [lots of hand-drawn five-pointed stars]

3/3/12 SPRING RETREAT Sat. Morning

you can read all the stories and...miss the whole point of the Bible
Luke 24:27 - knowing the Bible & missing Jesus

reading the Bible like Aesop fables, reading the Bible like a self-help manuel. about...US, fundamentally
if not focused on Christ, all this Bible reading could just be fueling our narcissistic, self-help usage.

application is all good, but...INSUFFICIENT

scripture is a portrait of Christ. Tells the story of how God rescued a broken world, and how Jesus was the hero

[[ "The Word of the Lord reveals the Lord of the Word." ]]

The Bible is about the broken human race and how God saved it.
COVENANT:

vow, promise, secure contract
no need for reciprocating!
2 parts! Anticipation The take back GENESIS 22 (!) Abe&Sarah --> Isaac "HAHA"

the thing is, not all idols begin as idols...

if that were true, God would be a teasing God! They are gifts...
family, children...

"sin" = despairing refusal to find worth, self-identity in God.
You must ultimately place your self-worth in CHRIST, because the force of your THIRST to fill that "God-shaped" hole will crush that idol. If your idol is:

your family: you will be resented, for putting too much pressure.
your career: you will do unethical things to get farther ahead
your cause: you will lose sight...!
your church, morality, religion: you will be proud, pompous, ...GUILTY

and when you FAIL, even if God forgives, it won't be good enough for you...

What do I love more than anything else in the world?
What are you working for/looking to to bring significant?
What would it look like to give up that idol? EVERYTHING IMPLODES
*The best things are the most prone to become IDOLS *

that's why ISAAC had to be give up.

everyone has a LIFE STORY. suffering turns up the volume of that Broadcast.

often, that process Reveals what you're living for.
it's a continuous process of being SAVED...It is a process of revealing and strengthening...

What is my Isaac? What do I pray the most about, cry about, get super super super excited about? dream about.

Abe had to go thru this, b/c he loved Isaac too much.
It was a custom-made test for Abe
i.e. Pastor B refrains from Dating, b/c of sexual temptations. --> so your testimony is not ruined. so you can be used by God, b/c it's about God and his story. NOT yours.
Because a one of a kind test --> a one of a kind, custom-made worship.

"I see that you're calling me to live without the one thing I thought I'd never be able to live without...many of us don't see that Jesus is all we need until Jesus is all we have."

JESUS + Nothing = Everything

Everything - JESUS = Nothing

Isaiah 53: God did this. crucified his Jesus.
"God damn" = "I could do this better than God!"
*THERE'S FREEDOM in JC, when he delivers you from your ISAACS.
*GREATEST FEAR as Christian =/= failure
= success at things that don't matter.
*When we give JC our everything, our thirsts will be quenched
(!) dying to self. JC as protagonist of our own lives

Small Group: my cross...a gross monster combo of selfishness + self-image

What will my test be?

What do I place my God-like expectations in & will be disappointed by?

Are you more glad to be the end pt. of his grace, or a tunnel through which it flows?

3/2/12 actually should be 3/3/12 post-discussion journalings

Why is it so important for us to have something to die to, something to lay down everything to? That's all that THE WORLD caters to - that desire, that unending need to be filled...the GOD-SHAPED hole. Who am I? Where do I belong? What can i devote my whole self to? ...A love? A child? A cause? A career?

It's a God-shaped hole. It must be filled with God.

And Jesus transcends culture. Age barriers.

"everything is empty"

"life is meaningless"

so many people say stuff like this. Tis a ubiquitous experience.

Must remember that IDOLATRY reigns over everything.

We need to devote ourselves to a

nourishing, healthy, loving, self-sacrificing, ultimately-fill[ing] IDOL, CHRIST.

Charismatics

take it case by case,
I believe that the Spirit does work powerfully in unfamiliar ways
build relationships with those "charismatic" around us
make sure to distinguish between worshiping God and worshiping theology. THAT can become an idol, too.

IDOL traps

legalism
morality
theology
community
feeling...Hedonistic Christianity??

3/3/12 Saturday Night

"Outside-IN vs. Inside-OUT"

-conditional love -scandalously unconditional

-creates insecurity -I obey...BECAUSE he loves me.

-I am good --> God loves me. -DAILY presents/presence = ULTIMATE GOAL!

I obey --> God loves me. -death to self => fading away into eternity.

-We just want God's xmas presents

greatest enemy of the best =/= the worst
= the good enough
remember the giant carrot story. What separates the sacred from the secular is MOTIVE.
am I a "SO THAT" Christian? Yes :( showing others

[Obedience & Trust vs. Cost-Benefit Analysis]

of Adam and Eve's demise:

if Adam and Eve had been told of all the bad tings that have happened because of the Fall, they certainly

would not have eaten from the tree... But God/Jesus would've been NO part of that decision. That would've been a

SO-THAT DECISION

It would've been a result of recognizing God as THE measure of all that is good.

Do I refrain from _______ because I love Jesus?
No. It's because of ___________ consequence.
If we do certain good deeds and refrain from certain bad ones, FOR the purpose of being a good person, righteousness itself becomes an idol.
Luke 18: 9-14 Pharisee: "I'm so good! Phew good thing I'm not them"

but hey, evil isn't anywhere far. It's inside.

So wen people ask, "how can you believe in a good God with so much evil in the world?"

say hey, look in your own heart (b/c WE believe to be saved..)

Mean Girls: everyone's just looking for a bunch of -tions. validation, justification, ...and thirsting for it, and there's only one waterbottleful of glory...
And when there's only one bottleful of coveted glory, you're gonna disgrace, deface, the image of God in all others to gain artificial righteousness.

rappers = justified after jail
"DOES MY FORM OF RIGHTEOUSNESS HURT OTHERS?"
stomping others DOWN to become higher.

But when you're in Christ, you don't need the justification the world offers. and you can...

stop being jealous
start loving your enemies
stop the competition
start honoring others without needing their justification
serve others, pray for others, because I don't need anything from them!
To be friends? To be loved? To be wanted? Yeah, I want those things. But I don't need them.

YES, THIS IS THE IMPLICATION OF THE GOSPEL!

justification: JC died for us, and forgave us of the $5 trillion of debt. NOT ONLY THAT, but added $5 trillion of his own righteousness!
and then you are HOLY because GOD says so. B/c of JC.
Identity determines ACTIVITY

if you believe you're a sinner, you'll live like one
if you believe you're a justified, beloved person, you'll live like one

you spread what is the deepest inside your soul

Why won't God justify the NONbelievers who are morally better than us? To GLORIFY himself. To make himself famous with our lives.

if we don't make him famous through our POST-justification life, we're 又 just making ourselves famous, 又 putting down anyone else who doesn't fit our definition of righteousness.
Pastor B's mom...justified by her husband and children taking her back. but still, she tries to regain justification by working off her past shame, avoiding more future shame. That is a life guided by, run by [fear, disgust, avoidance of shame].

live in freedom. live in righteousness,

think of all those people who were told they weren't good enough and worked all their lives to prove those people wrong. --> "what are you gonna do when the haters are gone?"

we're all looking for criticism from somewhere
this is what Joy G (7th grade, Kammerer no friend girl) knew...from such a long time ago, isn't it? That she didn't need to be justified by anyone but JC. Only He can make us whole.

All we need is NEED. All we need is NOTHING.
If we don't have Christ, all the "good works" are done in vain. in fear. we must burst into his presence and ask, "Daddy, do it again. Tell me who I am."
Identify = defining. Jesus tells me who I am.

The cross tells me who I am. Jesus tells me who I am. After sinning, we run to him and repent and ask him to define us. There's no more shame because that was all done at the cross. And he'll never speak of it again.

"I don't want you guys to go all out because it's the last night. I want you to go all out because God is GOOD. Because God is so worthy. Because he is so good."

9:07 pm

Grace Bible Camp

Lexington, VA

It doesn't mean the thirst will be gone. But it means we'll know where to drink from until Heaven.

Playing: "O the Wonderful Cross"

Today 9:25pm is my spiritual re-birthday. My August, 6th grade spiritual birthday was a birth of emotion. I do believe that birth, that awakening of Christ's love was indeed genuine, and that it was that time that God used to place the Holy Spirit in me. That was indeed genuine. Yes. But, emotions on their own were obviously not enough. They fueled me for a little while at least, and that fueling was real...just not enough for long sustenance. There was no logical, thought-revelation revelation of THE FREEDOM OF CHRIST in m life!! So all my actions were so ME-driven. Almost empty (not completely). But now it's complete. My identity is in Christ, and I finally get that FREEDOM.

How silly that it took my so long.

How silly how seriously I took myself.

How difficult it was for me to live without the foundation of that knowledge in my life.

And how thankful, how excited I am to begin this new, beautiful, empowered life. & this new page.

Thank God!

How my heart beats!!

My life has ALWAYS been about making a big, bang-y impression. I was equipped with a spunky personality and a shiny smile that, when flashed with the right timing and combination, often made some kind of an impression. And to a certain extent, I think God equipped me with these things as survival tooks. To survive - and in many ways, truly, thrive - all the moves my family transitioned through. So, so much of my identity was planted in how others would react to me. How others looked at me. I lived for it, that flash of surprise in people's eyes - the glimmer of imbalanced reaction. Rocking people a bit with an unexpected juxtaposition of words, an unnerving flash of smile, a snarky comment just cause I was the mysterious, brightshiny new girl. All the time. Because I had to SPARK(LE) at every new school. But that became an idol. Always looking to others for some secret, subtle, maybe even unintentional, recognition and attention and approval.

9:55pm

the line (btw. idolizing ____ vs. using _____ for his glory): minset. mindset. motive. motive. your kingdom or his kingdom?
God made us for himself. God didn't save us for mission trips
for pastoral duty
but for himself.
Even non Christians! They all wanna be more patient
more kind
more affectionate
more giving }what are all theses qualities? => JC
don't just stare at the cross and feel bad, or be scared into doing good works; into not staring anywhere. THAT'S NOT THE POINT. take your eyes off yourself, put your gaze on Christ.
The only thing that can CHANGE people = beauty. not the grotesque.
STOP looking at yourself in the mirror. Look at JC. and the undercurrent will take you away.
undercurrent
undercurrent
Xtianity is the ONLY truth that makes humility, and whose truth doesn't suffocate. whose truth is genuine.
Tim Keller - Counterfeit Gods
how do you keep communities from getting suffocating?

confess more. you start.

No one is holy. JESUS is holy. And we're only holy at the expense of JC.
fruit =/= gifts

fruits are born because of our choice to be under the presence of God
fruits define maturity

in the face of forgetfulness, in the face of being disillusioned...remember that God is a God of creation. Don't look for recreations of past experiences.

11:40 pm

This message is ultimately fulfilling. The me-centered message was running out of fuel, because it's...well, me-fueled, had been me-centered! There's not much substance in that. The "OMG Jesus lahvs me so much" takeaway just wasn't enough anymore. THIS is the first time I've had this natural urge to share.

evidences

first instance of desire to SHARE this
right message --> right register/grid. overcame the barriers! to 听懂!
finally provided with conviction that Christianity is absolutely the only one.
God-centered. makes sense. I have no objections here. <-- though it's NOT about that ANYWAYS

Pastor B confesses that he was cynical; that he had been afraid taht no one would be reached, cause we Virginians are so...sensitive. HAHAHA!

Indeed we are sensitive, and indeed this "HOLY COMMUNITY" may feel suffocating at times, but still, with the gospel of Christ in my heart, I look at them with love, compassion, understanding, and empathy. Momentary heart squeeze.

3/4/12 Sunday Morning Pastor B "after the retreat..."

The one who did all the saving also does all the changing
"Jesus is the true and better ______" -Tim Keller
Instead of trying so hard to keep dirt and worldly crap out of my life, I just...let his presence fill me up.

drink deep and refreshingly of Jesus
when filled with Christ, it's hard for other crap to try to fit

Not a resistance against the filling up with others, but a helpless already-fullness...There's no room for other stuff!
Galatians 2:17 - stop trying to sanctify by sweat!
religion is like looking into a mirror and seeing all dem imperfections

if you just keep staring, focusing on the law it'll end up with

pity: "zomg so ugly"
pride: "oh hay lookin' good!"

must stare FULL at Jesus' wonderful grace and love. SO MUCH that we forget what we look like
staring at mom's mangled hands =/=> changed heart
=> being guilted into, being restrained from sinning
When you stare at something beautiful, you become more beautiful
When you go home...DON'T MESS UP THE MESSAGE

the greatest danger of gospel is believing that before you're saved, you have to do something
fruits vs. gifts!
simply be carried away by the undercurrent. be so focused on Jesus that you won't even notice the fruit. the maturation. the growth.

Psalm 27:4

"One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple"

Our parents gazed on our baby beauty and were filled with unspeakable love.
We are predestined to reflect the Son.
Zephaniah 3:17: God sings over us.
HE will bring us home. God will do it. Trust him.

autobús

2012-02-07T15:34:00.000-05:00

"I am relevant!"

I like it when the seat right behind the bus driver is empty because that's where I best like to sit. Not cause it's the coolest, or the warmest, or the best people watchingest, or cause it gets-you-there-the-fastestest, or whatever other superlative you might desire from a bus ride, but because this is where I have sneaky secret access to the bus driver. Because from here, I can very slightly and very casually lean over - as if to stretch out my gluteus sideus, or to simply heave myself a yawn, or to peer out of the windshield as if that might make some kind of a difference - and, in fact, inconspicuously whisper into the unsuspecting ear nearby, "...Does this bus go to...say, Hereford?"

This ear may sometimes contain intriguing piercings, or be lined with that teensy line of ear fuzz that ears can sometimes have, or simply be rocking out to the self-selected tunes that stream through the airwaves that the bus speakers make, or if it is wintertime, perhaps be hiding beneath the furs of a cozy hat. Indeed, this ear closest to my favorite seat on every bus is unique, special, and particular to each individual whose head-side it occupies, but on each bus remains exactly the same in that it is always the closest one to this particular seat.

So I like it when the seat right behind the bus driver is empty because it is the one seat toward which this ear can most reasonably crane, without neck injuries or bus accidents or attention-drawings from the rest of the bus crowd, the great masses not so fortunate to be sitting in this special seat. Because this is the seat, after having received the secret inquiry through that ear, to which the bus driver can most discreetly and conveniently whisper back, "No..." (and if they're nice, also with a "...sorry..." but mostly just with that look of discomfort from my whisper having been a tad too close to his or her ear) as I sigh and pull the little ding-string, and Request dat Stop, and put on my sheepish face (._.) - to get off this very wrong bus, abandon this perfectly wrong seat, so very&conveniently close to the front door of the bus, through which I make my slightly-ashamed, no-longer-a-first-year; have-no-excuse kind of escape and trek out once again into the webby, wide worldful of unmastered bus lines and kind, bus drivery ears, just waiting to be whispered into.

headline bossy clichés of 2011

2011-12-31T23:59:00.000-05:00

Do not despair.

Find a balance.

Journal always.

Take deep breaths and

Stap ze inzecurity.

Love more.

Keep learning.

Stop being so bossy.

Farewell 2011 & Hello 2012 in eight deep breaths!

dear blue-eyed, full-lipped, dark-haired man,

2011-12-04T17:21:00.001-05:00

Hello, you are quite blue-eyed, full-lipped, dark-haired. Quite.

As it so often happens, here I am blogging when I should be studying (&reading through some old posts about blogging instead of studying...a vicious cycle, it seems).

I'm not quite sure if you're worth the moments, but let me just take a few moments to note these moments of sitting across from your blue eyes, full lips, dark brown hair. I can't decide if they are attractive or not...they are almost too much, but still kind of pretty...but almost too muchhh ehhhh cannot decide. They teeter totter on some kind of beauty-ugly-scary verge. A three-way face precipice.

AHHH YOU JUST LOOKED AT ME and for a moment I thought you could:
1. read my mind reading these words
2. read these words backwards and all, through the back of my computer screen

3. but then realized that it was probably because I was crunching my extremely green, extremely sour, mediumly delicious apple, extremely loudly. Oops. Sorry.

But as I said, I'm not quite sure if you're worth these moments. I am also not sure of many, many other things about you. I wonder if you are kind. I wonder if you enjoyed that butter-only-no-cream-cheese-nuh-uh bagle as much as I'm enjoying my extremely green apple, which is only a medium amount, and I hope you enjoyed it more than I'm enjoying this but I dunno you seemed pretty matter of fact about it all. Knife, butter, Swipe-Swipe, Take Bite, chew-Chew. I wonder how long it has been a habit of yours to purse your extremely full lips in the way that you are doing. I wonder if it's a stress-induced thing, cause you look quite stressed, though you seem to be productive. But of course I cannot read your mind and the words it is reading (not) out-loud to you, or read through the backside of your computer screen, or indeed even read backwards that fast, so who knows. I wonder what kind of music is pulsing through your earphones into your earholes into your brainwaves. I wonder if it is stupid that I systematically call everything remotely related to brain activity "brainwaves." But most of all, I wonder if you are kind.

And then secondly, if you are worth these few moments that took to write up this blogpost, the answer to which, I spose, is related to the answer to my biggest wondering.

Goodbye and good luck! Dear God please bless everyone at this table, in this room, on this floor, in this library, in any library studying right now. I know it's silly and naive to think that this small prayer will suddenly make everyone's studyings better or brighter or even cause a little burst of energy or something, but I pray anyway that you touch each person in the way that they need to be touched by you right now, in small and significant ways that are only apparent to you and him and her. Most of all dear God, please help us all survive this exam season more or less unscathed. No. Triumphant. Please, God, use me in ways that make other people's days sparkle a little bit in these sparkle-lacking times. What a blessing it is to study for exams.

Woah you just stood up. You are also quite tall. Quite.

wednesday convictions

2011-11-30T23:40:00.001-05:00

To not only read great literature as a "break from other homework"
To not only read great literature and only be "struck by it" "moved by it" even to tears or heart-clutching gasp-y-ness
To not only read great literature and tuck it away on an "I Own These" shelf
To not only read great literature and tuck it away in my pocket, in my little world, just as a part of this "grape semester"

But to pull it out every day and
To use it

To love,
To be kind,
To overcome my own me-ness,

As a tool God gives me

To change the world.

Spying

2011-11-18T13:12:00.001-05:00

on a beautiful moment of koinonia. Real fellowship. Was wondering why these otherwise seemingly-typical, JCrew scarf and pea coat-clad girls with be-Ugged feet and perfectly unperfect curl-ed hairs, seemed somehow so different. So earnest in conversation and dedication to each other, not their cellphones, sharing about Christ-filled revelations, jelly-filled donuts. Just kidding, no donuts. I wasn't planning on spying but when I saw the brown sweater girl pull out her journal and start reading from it to the grey sweater girl, I couldn't help but pause

(which had been repeatingrepeatingrepeatrepeatpepatiepaing like thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis)

and listen. Eyes sparkling, voices trembling, hands waving in excited gesticulation and true connection of love, truth, spirit-filled fellowship. What a blessed moment this is, this moment today in sunny Nau 11/18/11 12:something pm.

It reminds me of my own, so mystifyingly, tear-renderingly (okay no tears, usually, but you know what I mean?) beautiful fellowship moments with my beloved sisters in Christ. And makes me so excited for what lies ahead, what more beauty and tears (of tragedy, of joy) that God has in store for us all.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Love you, love you, love you.

just keep breathing, silly.

2011-11-16T15:53:00.001-05:00

The sky keeps holding its breath. Or maybe it is more accurate to say that it keeps making me hold my breath, because it keeps looking like it's gonna snow but it just keeps raining and not snowing. And holding my breath for snow is strangely self-defeating and self-deceptive and self-blinding (errmm self-noseplugging. METADUH) anyways because if I would just give in and take that swoosh of air into my lungs, my nostrils and my nostrils' little hairs and my nostrils' little hairs' sensory things (MMM SCIENCE) would be like oh! hay it doesn't smell like pre-snow atmosphere at all! and let my silly brain know.
But alas.

Only Wednesday and it has already been (half) a week full of breathlessness and "But alas"s.

1. Derek Walcott, lovechild of Yeats and St. Lucia, catches me off guard and leaves me confused because I don't get it but I love it, his poetry.

2. Jonne Dohn, who makes me feel like I'm choking. A terrible kind of breathless.

3. New Cabell trek up to the fifth floor that inspired a moment of community among three strangers this morning at 8:59am, commiserating and urging one another on, onward, onto the next floor! you can do it! - we were a makeshift sports team for those few moments of walking up those steps. Six coordinatedly burning thighs, three pairs of lungs running pitifully out of breath, one collection of random individuals who shared that connection and just as quickly parted ways, wishing each other well for the the rest of our days.

4. This, which I didn't even fully read for class today. which makes my heart beat faster. which was written by a man whose full-time job was in investment banking. which catches my breath, but which inspires me to breathe on.

In other news, I anxiously await Thanksgiving Break.

Heeeheeeehuuuuhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

please play us both at the same time!

"It rains" --yesterdayesterday

2011-11-11T15:50:00.000-05:00

Foreword: These revelations are from Wednesday, 11.9.11, but were reborn in the writing of this blogpost during the wee hours of (technically) Thursday, 11.10.11. And I think it is kind of fitting that they are now being presented to the whole wide world on this crazymindexplodinglysignificant day of 11.11.11. If only I had been able to post it at 11:11:11 am. But alas I was sitting in Chinese, blabbering about what color, size, price t-shirt everyone was wearing today, so that I didn't even make a wish. Alas and alack indeed but also, yay for not getting stuck on the logistics - cause let's be real, I make enough 11:11 wishes on normal days to maybe even rival the huge-ness of today's 11:11:11...HAHA okay so even I'm not convinced by that argument but hope you enjoy the post anyways. Sleepyhead grammatical mistakes and all.

It rains. Il pleut. Está lloviendo. Piove.
It rains. It rains. It rains. It rains.

Who rains?

My mind was blown today, of all days, because of ENLT 2523: Lyric Poetry. It's a little bit weird, because we didn't talk about anything that we hadn't talked about before, but all of a sudden today it hit me extra mind-blowingly and then there I was, dumbstruck, gasping for my metaphorical breath, feeling (relatively to other brains,) stupid and a little (relatively to myself of just a few moments before that moment,) smart at the same time. I know. What a paradox. Alas and alack, such is my life as an English major (eep).

Despite the fact that Wednesdays are my infamously worst days (infamously known to...two whole people, me and my last year roommate), also known as "Wilde Wednesdays," combined with 2.4 hours of sleep on Tuesday night, today (Wednesday, 11.09.11, not 11.10.11 as the time stamp will show when I Publish this post) was quite wonderful. I shall summarize it below, but in order to not get completely lost in that, let me finish the whole rainy business first.

So it rains, right? Well sometimes, anyways, and I like when it does, but who the heck is doing all this raining? Who makes it rain? What makes it rain? When makes it rain Where rain How??

Who knows. But the thing is, no one cares. And this is because

the grammar (third person present) gives agency to...an unknown entity. Is this being a benevolent or dastardly being? Will he she or it continue to make it rain or withdraw in cruel drought? Does she he or it care that these watery drops fall on people's heads on their worst days, their best days? Do it he she they have pets or hobbies or achy backs? Will he they it shes ever find love, or write poetry, or survive these next twelve days or Do Great Things? The answer is unknown, because the agent is so utterly unknown. We do not know his (her its their) name or face. We have not met any members of his family, and we do not know his favorite color. A magnificently, mysteriously, movingly monumentalmystery.

It's almost as if we're attributing our own agency to nature. Like oh there simply must be a being out there, brewing and felling this rain, sprinkling it or bucketing it, with concrete hands of five fingers each, connected to wrists, elbows, practical hinges. Something out there, living, probably breathing, separate from the rain, that's making this magical thing happen.

This is called the pathetic fallacy.

Dahh. Even its name is so bleak, you know? It's pathetic (though it probably comes from pathos, feeling). It's a fallacy. But then yeah, even the "pathos" view of it, if anything, makes the "fallacy" even more supremely sad, because you have put your feelings, your heart into this thing, and still, it has failed. Pathetic Fallacy. It is supremely sad that it's defined this way - the idea that to invoke another being out there in nature is a FALLACY. - You are alone. - And what's more, you are self-centered for even thinking these things, that nature is talking to you, patting your wee head, and eye-caressing you and sending you signs via owls and silences. And that is that! Like zip, nada, nope, case closed, blip blop blooop, cause that is the Definition and that is what all the smart people have decided and studied and hmm-ed and hmmmm-ed over and said. wrote.

And who am I to rub my sleepy eyes and write this feeble, run-on sentenceful blogpost about this Huge, Established thing that Huge and Established People have Hm-ed and Haw-ed over? Hmmm??

I am she. I am the same, identical woman. I am a he she it me they we they she, a she with an undeniable agency. I have a cat named Binky though I am infinitely more of a dog person. I am scared of many things, among which are bunny suits. Spores. (s h u d d e r.) I have two eyes and one mouth and I speak and write too many words and a lot of times I am rather, very, quite, seriously self-conscious of them. I spill over like water and feel bad about not having enough rigid structure to help protect you from the barrage of me. I can tell you about my favorite food and color, and I would like to know what-your-top-three-happiest-things-in-life-are-right-now-please-o-prease. And sometimes I deteriorate in grammar. &always I am hurtling toward the end of this, my third semester of College and only really every stopping to breathe about every THursday or so. Ah Thursday.

But here I am - at least here I am, a being enough to, "Ah Thursday." To parallel stories of the rain and living out poetry underneath umbrellas and trying hard to find some sort of a perfect balance. An imperfect agent, who realizes the impossibility of the perfect and embraces the imperfect by virtue of its reality and stark, brave face. An agent who

reigns.

She he it reigns. I reigns rain, mainly in the plain Spain! Haha :)

Perfectly, completely, incompletely happy for this tiny domain in which I reside and the emotions and currents that run through it/stay in it and reveling in eye caresses and brainwave synchronizations and things that come in 38s and being concrete and true.

And here is the poem that inspired all this mindexplosion:

The Most of It — by Robert Frost

He thought he kept the universe alone;

For all the voice in answer he could wake

Was but the mocking echo of his own

From some tree–hidden cliff across the lake.

Some morning from the boulder–broken beach

He would cry out on life, that what it wants

Is not its own love back in copy speech,

But counter–love, original response.

And nothing ever came of what he cried

Unless it was the embodiment that crashed

In the cliff's talus on the other side,

And then in the far distant water splashed,

But after a time allowed for it to swim,

Instead of proving human when it neared

And someone else additional to him,

As a great buck it powerfully appeared,

Pushing the crumpled water up ahead,

And landed pouring like a waterfall,

And stumbled through the rocks with horny tread,

And forced the underbrush—and that was all.