Now it comes time for that part of the summer in which an update is needed. (So many prepositions...).
Anywho, I lied to you all. Just so you know. After I posted that blog it was like my flickering spark of hope was dashed by a chilly wind. And perhaps it was self-induced; maybe I blew it out myself. Just the same, it was gone. It hasn't been until the last few days that I've actually seen that yes indeed my God is good and yes indeed he is working in the world around me. I don't know why it was so hard for me to see but... wait. I do know why it was hard for me to see.
In this life, we hold things to standards. Maybe not always morally, but to a standard nonetheless. For instance, if someone gives me a compliment I believe I'm expected to give on to them. Or, if someone sends me a card I find it appropriate to send one to them as well. I'm trying to meet other peoples standards. Meanwhile, if I text someone very close to me I, sillily, expect a text pretty quickly. Or I expect people to give 110% in the same areas of life that I give 110%.
THIS IS DUMB.
This kind of thinking will ONLY let us down. Why? Because I'm not the same as you, you're not the same as your grandmother, and your grandmother is not the same as Michael Jackson (God rest 'im). When we hold people to the standards we've set, or we hold our jobs to the make-believe ideals we've set up in our minds on how they're supposed to be, or we expect the world to be just as we plan it... we will inevitably be let down.
Don't believe me? I dare you to take a look at your life and pick out any really upsetting time for you and tell me that it wasn't because someone let you down because they didn't meet your standards, or because a situation didn't go how you planned it, or because your dream job turned out to suck.
We live in an imperfect and fallen world, full of pain and suffering. And we only add on to that by trying to run the world to "make it better." Through these letdowns and upsettings, we've become cynical. I know that ex-boyfriends, because they've been such letdowns, have made me cynical about boys at times. And I know that I love my job but there are sometimes I think "why do I even bother showing up?" Life does not go how WE plan it. Therefore... we shouldn't be cynical. And we shouldn't be jaded. To be jaded is the worst possible outlook one can have. All hope is lost and the fight you once had to take control is completely lost. You're complacent. You're mad. You're hurt. You've given up.
Deep Breath! There is hope. I'm doing a study called "Jaded" with some girl friends of mine. So stay tuned for more help on this topic. I don't know all the answers... but for a girl who's been pretty cynical lately, I have nowhere to go but up.
God is good.
Just kidding... He's great.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Excuse me...
... I have an apology.
But I won't insult you by voicing it for the umpteenth time. In fact, I will politely move on, no avoiding it, but gently moving on as to not appear toolish or dramatic.
This summer has been so far, and will continue to be, the hardest summer of my life. I find that without the structure of school, the hustle-and-bustle of a roaring social life, going to a real church, and having your boyfriend ten minutes away: it's tough. And not only that but I am "stuck" in the town I've been dying to get out of. Don't get me wrong; I'm so thankful that I can come and stay with my parents and that I have a job here that will always take me back. But there is rebellion and disontent in my heart. I could walk you through the steps of how I got here; at least a year of direct unrest. But I'm done with re-hashing the past. It's time to work in the present.
I feel like Jonah a little bit. I don't know why I'm here. I don't want to be here. I want to take a boat in the opposite direction and yeah, I want to be swallowed by a whale! I suppose the fact that I'm here voices that I'm at least somewhat obedient. I didn't runaway. I didn't turn the other way. But if I continue sulking, all of the headway I could have made will be lost. And I don't feel like spending an entire, sun-laced, lotion-smelling, snow-cone eating summer on being depressed (how were those for kennings?). In fact, a just a little bit done with the depression thing. I've seen many of my friends go through it and I wept on their behalf, and now as I go through whatever this is I'm self-depricating and whiny. No thank you. That's unbecoming of a lady, that's unbecoming of a disciple of Christ!
I guess that's my main point... I've been whining about "poor me!" "poor situation!" and yet... God has placed me here, like Esther, "for such a time as this." I might be like Abraham and never know just what was working through me because the fruits of it aren't to be seen in my lifetime, but you know what... I'd rather be a hundred or more yards behind the great Heroes of Faith of Hebrews than to quit the race all together.
Trust.
Faith.
Hope.
To replace
Mistrust.
Fear.
Discontent.
I'm not perfect, and I'm in no means patting myself on the back. I've been mulling over these facts for a good week now and I've come to the conclusion that quite frankly, I suck at this. I'm incapable of doing it. But the God who rescued Daniel, and the Christ who forgave Peter after he denied him (and denied that he would deny him!) has great love in store for his chosen. And in that love is Grace and Mercy and the opportunity to work for him once again, side by side. God is sovereign. God is magnificent. And yet, he cares intimately for us as his chosen. He wishes to redeem us, he wishes for us to fall in love with him, to let go of the world. When we let go, we deny ourselves and let Christ rule supremely. It's not a one time act, but rather a moment by moment release of our pride, our mistrust, our ever-present fear that puts God at the forefront of our hearts and on the throne of our souls.
I mostly write this for myself... selfishly enough. Yet, I do not apologize for this. I simply humbly present to you the words our God has laid on my heart.
Here's to an exciting Summer, 2010.
But I won't insult you by voicing it for the umpteenth time. In fact, I will politely move on, no avoiding it, but gently moving on as to not appear toolish or dramatic.
This summer has been so far, and will continue to be, the hardest summer of my life. I find that without the structure of school, the hustle-and-bustle of a roaring social life, going to a real church, and having your boyfriend ten minutes away: it's tough. And not only that but I am "stuck" in the town I've been dying to get out of. Don't get me wrong; I'm so thankful that I can come and stay with my parents and that I have a job here that will always take me back. But there is rebellion and disontent in my heart. I could walk you through the steps of how I got here; at least a year of direct unrest. But I'm done with re-hashing the past. It's time to work in the present.
I feel like Jonah a little bit. I don't know why I'm here. I don't want to be here. I want to take a boat in the opposite direction and yeah, I want to be swallowed by a whale! I suppose the fact that I'm here voices that I'm at least somewhat obedient. I didn't runaway. I didn't turn the other way. But if I continue sulking, all of the headway I could have made will be lost. And I don't feel like spending an entire, sun-laced, lotion-smelling, snow-cone eating summer on being depressed (how were those for kennings?). In fact, a just a little bit done with the depression thing. I've seen many of my friends go through it and I wept on their behalf, and now as I go through whatever this is I'm self-depricating and whiny. No thank you. That's unbecoming of a lady, that's unbecoming of a disciple of Christ!
I guess that's my main point... I've been whining about "poor me!" "poor situation!" and yet... God has placed me here, like Esther, "for such a time as this." I might be like Abraham and never know just what was working through me because the fruits of it aren't to be seen in my lifetime, but you know what... I'd rather be a hundred or more yards behind the great Heroes of Faith of Hebrews than to quit the race all together.
Trust.
Faith.
Hope.
To replace
Mistrust.
Fear.
Discontent.
I'm not perfect, and I'm in no means patting myself on the back. I've been mulling over these facts for a good week now and I've come to the conclusion that quite frankly, I suck at this. I'm incapable of doing it. But the God who rescued Daniel, and the Christ who forgave Peter after he denied him (and denied that he would deny him!) has great love in store for his chosen. And in that love is Grace and Mercy and the opportunity to work for him once again, side by side. God is sovereign. God is magnificent. And yet, he cares intimately for us as his chosen. He wishes to redeem us, he wishes for us to fall in love with him, to let go of the world. When we let go, we deny ourselves and let Christ rule supremely. It's not a one time act, but rather a moment by moment release of our pride, our mistrust, our ever-present fear that puts God at the forefront of our hearts and on the throne of our souls.
I mostly write this for myself... selfishly enough. Yet, I do not apologize for this. I simply humbly present to you the words our God has laid on my heart.
Here's to an exciting Summer, 2010.
Monday, May 17, 2010
the sky is the limit
false.
summer 2010. brough to you by an A in Linguistics and a B in New Testament. thank OBU, you've been real. real something. real fun. real exciting. real... tangible? ostensibly, this is correct. (thanks dr. armond! in more ways than one!)
ah, the rambling. shall it never end? i had plans this summer. big plans, big, high flying plans. Sky Ranch was on the agenda, as was some swimming lessons and some lifeguarding. all viable, normal options for a summer. correct?
false.
let me preface this... in the beginning, ah, no no too far back... to be an adult - much better - you have to be responsible. yes, yes, responsible. but you also need to follow God's direction for your life. this can seem contradictory at times, trust me. God has a plan though, and he always sees it through. i thought his plan was for me to go to Sky Ranch this summer. but alas, he has decided otherwise.
you see... i've always had this "silver platter" mentality, as well as the notion that i'm somehow endowed to that. in this society and with the pressures around me, i've become that snobby, yuppy, priveleged, "my parents will pay for it" kid that i have always despised. yes, it's true. how is that okay? well it's not. not for me anyway. i've let it effect all that i am. i've let it taint my relationships. i've let it get in the way of seeing just exactly who God wants me to be. i was caught up in the Chaco hype. in the awesome-summer-plans hype. i was caught up in something that was not my Christ, even though i so desperately wanted it to be.
so where does this leave me? well... it leaves me with no money, a degraded sense of self-worth, an attitude adjustment, and a mission field that is my every-day. i gave up Sky Ranch to make money for the upcoming fall. truth is: camp doesn't pay much and i can't afford to take a job that doesn't pay much. i'm not missing out on a missions opportunity because my life is a mission. i see 1000+ a day where i work and i interact with most of them. i've been looking for the BIG ACT God's had in store for me and quite frankly (and oh so dissapointingly) i've missed the fact that it's been right under my nose this whole time.
God's dropped me here in Independence with dashed hopes (in something i shouldn't have had my hopes in), few friends, and no school. just me, my family, and the ability to make or break my adulthood.
i've decided to grow up, no wait, God's decided it's time for me to grow up. i'd like to ask you all to pray for me in this crazy adventure ahead. i've discovered a lot of chinks in my armor and getting a new one is hard to adjust to.
I'm praying for you guys to. i'm excited for you guys who are going to camp! those of you going on mission trips! those of you staying home and working! those of you getting married! those of you LIVING this mondane life God has given us! keep your eyes OPEN! his blessings are out there EVERY DAY ALL THE TIME.
summer 2010. brough to you by an A in Linguistics and a B in New Testament. thank OBU, you've been real. real something. real fun. real exciting. real... tangible? ostensibly, this is correct. (thanks dr. armond! in more ways than one!)
ah, the rambling. shall it never end? i had plans this summer. big plans, big, high flying plans. Sky Ranch was on the agenda, as was some swimming lessons and some lifeguarding. all viable, normal options for a summer. correct?
false.
let me preface this... in the beginning, ah, no no too far back... to be an adult - much better - you have to be responsible. yes, yes, responsible. but you also need to follow God's direction for your life. this can seem contradictory at times, trust me. God has a plan though, and he always sees it through. i thought his plan was for me to go to Sky Ranch this summer. but alas, he has decided otherwise.
you see... i've always had this "silver platter" mentality, as well as the notion that i'm somehow endowed to that. in this society and with the pressures around me, i've become that snobby, yuppy, priveleged, "my parents will pay for it" kid that i have always despised. yes, it's true. how is that okay? well it's not. not for me anyway. i've let it effect all that i am. i've let it taint my relationships. i've let it get in the way of seeing just exactly who God wants me to be. i was caught up in the Chaco hype. in the awesome-summer-plans hype. i was caught up in something that was not my Christ, even though i so desperately wanted it to be.
so where does this leave me? well... it leaves me with no money, a degraded sense of self-worth, an attitude adjustment, and a mission field that is my every-day. i gave up Sky Ranch to make money for the upcoming fall. truth is: camp doesn't pay much and i can't afford to take a job that doesn't pay much. i'm not missing out on a missions opportunity because my life is a mission. i see 1000+ a day where i work and i interact with most of them. i've been looking for the BIG ACT God's had in store for me and quite frankly (and oh so dissapointingly) i've missed the fact that it's been right under my nose this whole time.
God's dropped me here in Independence with dashed hopes (in something i shouldn't have had my hopes in), few friends, and no school. just me, my family, and the ability to make or break my adulthood.
i've decided to grow up, no wait, God's decided it's time for me to grow up. i'd like to ask you all to pray for me in this crazy adventure ahead. i've discovered a lot of chinks in my armor and getting a new one is hard to adjust to.
I'm praying for you guys to. i'm excited for you guys who are going to camp! those of you going on mission trips! those of you staying home and working! those of you getting married! those of you LIVING this mondane life God has given us! keep your eyes OPEN! his blessings are out there EVERY DAY ALL THE TIME.
Monday, May 10, 2010
pre-finals
spring semester might as well be the worst time of the year to do schoolwork.
no motivation.
a promise of warmth.
summer approaching.
leaving behind friends.
getting a job.
the list goes on and on... we study and study and study to have it all ripped away, like an older sibling stealing a younger siblings lollipop: gone. in the blink of an eye. i feel like we just started this semester! like spring break was last week! and now it's over... and i'm supposed to have learned a bunch of facts and wisdom so i can take some tests this week.
uh...
missed that memo.
and now, as i eat my free donut (thanks Rachel) i wish all those with finals splendid penmanship, instantaneous recall, and peace. we can do it. we were in class, i think. we studied, mostly. it's time to bust blue books and write down names. and after that... summer awaits us.
no motivation.
a promise of warmth.
summer approaching.
leaving behind friends.
getting a job.
the list goes on and on... we study and study and study to have it all ripped away, like an older sibling stealing a younger siblings lollipop: gone. in the blink of an eye. i feel like we just started this semester! like spring break was last week! and now it's over... and i'm supposed to have learned a bunch of facts and wisdom so i can take some tests this week.
uh...
missed that memo.
and now, as i eat my free donut (thanks Rachel) i wish all those with finals splendid penmanship, instantaneous recall, and peace. we can do it. we were in class, i think. we studied, mostly. it's time to bust blue books and write down names. and after that... summer awaits us.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
crop circles on the hill
the red machine whirls and struggles.
fighting each blade of grass till each submits.
billows of pollen, dust, and polution waft into the air, flowing up, up, up into the hazy blue sky.
the man on the mower wears an old cap, sporty shades, the pride of a hard-workers tan. he cuts the grass like the professional he is. i don't know the man, i'll probably never meet the man, but i admire his work, his skill, his bread-winning forte. the hill looks great. and the air smells like the onions he's chopped up beneath his angry blades.
i sit on the half-picnic table, avoiding a paper, reading Saturday, and enjoying the amazing spring essence around me. there are scribbbles and cuts on the bench/table. most of these people are gone. gone into real life, gone into a separate part of campus; just gone.
as i contemplate these things, these natural things, these material and inconsequential things, i wonder what it means to be post-modern. i wonder what will happen to this bench when i'm long graduated. i wonder what will happen when the hill is covered in crab grass and new students in the fall, i wonder if anyone will ever read this blog. and i wonder... when it's all gone. when there is no blogspot.com, when there is no OBU, when there is no bench for us to sit on and enjoy the outside air. what will happen? what will come next? is there anything next? surely, an afterlife awaits me. filled with God's presence and a multitude of Christ-followers. but just the same... what will happen when the "joys" and "blessings" and the beauty of this world pass away? what will we have left?
will we simply have crop-circles in lawns? fallen branches from trees? self-centered theory? blankness? hazy skies?
to contemplate is post-modern, to wonder at what comes next is essential. but to reflect, apply, and change based on these contemplations... what is that? where are we now?
maybe Braum's frozen yogurt will reveal this to me.
fighting each blade of grass till each submits.
billows of pollen, dust, and polution waft into the air, flowing up, up, up into the hazy blue sky.
the man on the mower wears an old cap, sporty shades, the pride of a hard-workers tan. he cuts the grass like the professional he is. i don't know the man, i'll probably never meet the man, but i admire his work, his skill, his bread-winning forte. the hill looks great. and the air smells like the onions he's chopped up beneath his angry blades.
i sit on the half-picnic table, avoiding a paper, reading Saturday, and enjoying the amazing spring essence around me. there are scribbbles and cuts on the bench/table. most of these people are gone. gone into real life, gone into a separate part of campus; just gone.
as i contemplate these things, these natural things, these material and inconsequential things, i wonder what it means to be post-modern. i wonder what will happen to this bench when i'm long graduated. i wonder what will happen when the hill is covered in crab grass and new students in the fall, i wonder if anyone will ever read this blog. and i wonder... when it's all gone. when there is no blogspot.com, when there is no OBU, when there is no bench for us to sit on and enjoy the outside air. what will happen? what will come next? is there anything next? surely, an afterlife awaits me. filled with God's presence and a multitude of Christ-followers. but just the same... what will happen when the "joys" and "blessings" and the beauty of this world pass away? what will we have left?
will we simply have crop-circles in lawns? fallen branches from trees? self-centered theory? blankness? hazy skies?
to contemplate is post-modern, to wonder at what comes next is essential. but to reflect, apply, and change based on these contemplations... what is that? where are we now?
maybe Braum's frozen yogurt will reveal this to me.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
a good day?
it was.
i haven't been feeling well. so i googled my symptoms.
tired
(leg) muscle pain
mild dizziness
headache
some of the top results were:
neck pain
multiple sclerosis
cancer
severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS)
or i'm pregnant.
i quit googling.
since none of those are anywhere near possible, i'm going to go with neck pain. or... i'll take it in a completely different direction.
i think i have SSFSS, severe semester final stress syndrome. i think i can make a case, blog about it, maybe get it put on WebMD. objective: get through Tuesday afternoon, then finals without ruining all your relationships at school, sleep enough, study hard, and get those extra credit assignments in! immediate prescription: DC Cake Appeal cookies and Dr. Pepper.
dear God, my life is in your hands. make it what you will!
i haven't been feeling well. so i googled my symptoms.
tired
(leg) muscle pain
mild dizziness
headache
some of the top results were:
neck pain
multiple sclerosis
cancer
severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS)
or i'm pregnant.
i quit googling.
since none of those are anywhere near possible, i'm going to go with neck pain. or... i'll take it in a completely different direction.
i think i have SSFSS, severe semester final stress syndrome. i think i can make a case, blog about it, maybe get it put on WebMD. objective: get through Tuesday afternoon, then finals without ruining all your relationships at school, sleep enough, study hard, and get those extra credit assignments in! immediate prescription: DC Cake Appeal cookies and Dr. Pepper.
dear God, my life is in your hands. make it what you will!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
the pampered chef.
Cooking. The years old ritual of taking stock items like vegetables, spices, meats, and liquids and combining them together to form a meal. A meal which not only satisfies the singular reason of filling hunger but one that also satisfies the taste buds. Yes, those creepy little [sometimes] white bulbs on our tongues. A meal inspires stomach and heart; two very dear organs.
I must say, I am double majoring in English and Education, as well as earning my Mrs. Degree from the wonderful school of OBU [formerly, Oklahoma Baptist University; currently, Oklahoma Bridal University]. I've been failing miserably in this department, but it's not from lack of trying. So over break I've decided to try my hand at legitimately cooking for my family. And boy have I cooked. Since last Thursday night, I've been cooking just about every dinner, or at least helping in some shape or another. It amazes me how seemingly simple ingredients, that of the ones that were in tonight's Italian Wedding soup, can make an intricate, complex, stimulating meal. It's quite fantastic. For instance, I don't know how many meals I've started with butter or EVOO and onions. I suppose it's like everything else in our lives: there are basic building blocks.
Tonight, as I mentioned, I cooked Italian Wedding soup. It's amazing. You start with homemade chicken broth, cook some onions, celery and carrots, add some homemade chicken meatballs, some spinach, some noodles, some dill... Shoot. It's like heaven in a pot. Yes, you may quote me. And as I was cooking, I was thinking... I was thinking about how fun it is, yes, but about how one day, I'll get to do this for my own family. Not just my mom, dad, bro, sis... etc. but my VERY OWN family. I started to get a little teary at that, and perhaps it was the onions that were still sitting on the cutting board [I'm not exactly sure]. However, the thought of being almost 20, two decades old, and within the next decade having a family to take care of both frightened me and excited me all at the same time. I'm quite anxious for it, and yet: I'm pretty darn content with what's going on right now, there are so many more practice meals to cook before then!
To continue my obsession with cooking, my mother and I attended a Pampered Chef party at my neighbors house [a graduate of OBU] which was conducted by a very fantastic woman I worked with during JuCo [I want to be her when I grow up; she has the Teacher Voice. I love it.]. There was stoneware, sharp German knives, a fancy chopper that looked perfect for post-essay exam days, some nifty measuring cups [because as we all know, I'm a virgin and can't measure. That my dear readers is another blog...], and there were dozens and dozens of miscellaneous pots and pans that were practically begging me to be taken home... However, I am a poor college student with no kitchen. So it was a hands down no that I could have none of the items. As I felt the heavy, weighted, German steel Santoku knife, I knew this was my calling. Cooking, yes, cooking will one day be an even bigger part of me. I've watched my mom, a house-wife, cook for years and years and she's a pro. She's no Iron Chef, but she's a Mom: that makes her ten times better than anything. She loves what she does, she loves to make us happy and to cook us new dishes. I want to be that one day. I want to be the mom who joyously chops up slimy chicken for a scrumptious, yet kid-friendly and all-time favorite, meal of homemade fried chicken and mashers. I want to bravely try Beef Bourguignon, I want to experiment with a new dessert. I want to make people happy with these creations. I want to present a good meal to those I love.
I have a feeling that as a wife, my husband will not have to worry about my scrapbooking or stamping obsession. However, he may have to restrain me from [other than books of all kinds] cooking supplies and cookbooks. I'll want to be a pampered chef for sure.
I must say, I am double majoring in English and Education, as well as earning my Mrs. Degree from the wonderful school of OBU [formerly, Oklahoma Baptist University; currently, Oklahoma Bridal University]. I've been failing miserably in this department, but it's not from lack of trying. So over break I've decided to try my hand at legitimately cooking for my family. And boy have I cooked. Since last Thursday night, I've been cooking just about every dinner, or at least helping in some shape or another. It amazes me how seemingly simple ingredients, that of the ones that were in tonight's Italian Wedding soup, can make an intricate, complex, stimulating meal. It's quite fantastic. For instance, I don't know how many meals I've started with butter or EVOO and onions. I suppose it's like everything else in our lives: there are basic building blocks.
Tonight, as I mentioned, I cooked Italian Wedding soup. It's amazing. You start with homemade chicken broth, cook some onions, celery and carrots, add some homemade chicken meatballs, some spinach, some noodles, some dill... Shoot. It's like heaven in a pot. Yes, you may quote me. And as I was cooking, I was thinking... I was thinking about how fun it is, yes, but about how one day, I'll get to do this for my own family. Not just my mom, dad, bro, sis... etc. but my VERY OWN family. I started to get a little teary at that, and perhaps it was the onions that were still sitting on the cutting board [I'm not exactly sure]. However, the thought of being almost 20, two decades old, and within the next decade having a family to take care of both frightened me and excited me all at the same time. I'm quite anxious for it, and yet: I'm pretty darn content with what's going on right now, there are so many more practice meals to cook before then!
To continue my obsession with cooking, my mother and I attended a Pampered Chef party at my neighbors house [a graduate of OBU] which was conducted by a very fantastic woman I worked with during JuCo [I want to be her when I grow up; she has the Teacher Voice. I love it.]. There was stoneware, sharp German knives, a fancy chopper that looked perfect for post-essay exam days, some nifty measuring cups [because as we all know, I'm a virgin and can't measure. That my dear readers is another blog...], and there were dozens and dozens of miscellaneous pots and pans that were practically begging me to be taken home... However, I am a poor college student with no kitchen. So it was a hands down no that I could have none of the items. As I felt the heavy, weighted, German steel Santoku knife, I knew this was my calling. Cooking, yes, cooking will one day be an even bigger part of me. I've watched my mom, a house-wife, cook for years and years and she's a pro. She's no Iron Chef, but she's a Mom: that makes her ten times better than anything. She loves what she does, she loves to make us happy and to cook us new dishes. I want to be that one day. I want to be the mom who joyously chops up slimy chicken for a scrumptious, yet kid-friendly and all-time favorite, meal of homemade fried chicken and mashers. I want to bravely try Beef Bourguignon, I want to experiment with a new dessert. I want to make people happy with these creations. I want to present a good meal to those I love.
I have a feeling that as a wife, my husband will not have to worry about my scrapbooking or stamping obsession. However, he may have to restrain me from [other than books of all kinds] cooking supplies and cookbooks. I'll want to be a pampered chef for sure.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
let's argue this out.
Sometimes, a hug and a long talk in a moving vehicle do the soul well. They do it very well indeed...
As the temperature beins to drop as I write this from my green chair, I can feel things start to build up. Perhaps it's the barometric pressure I'm feeling on my sinuses, or it's the swelling of my soul in my chest. The latter might be a bit dramatic... but I'm feeling it. School approacheth in less than two weeks. I'm ready to get back. Ready to take a Senior level class, ready to get Blitz Week projects underway, ready to see my friends... I'm ready.
But there are a few things I'm not ready for. I've got some things to figuratively duct tape when I get back. Some relationships need a bit of super glue, a little love, and a lot of prayer. I want to yell and I want to lash out, rationally but not irrationally. I want to be free from the metaphorical fat that's been growing around my heart (yes, I was just watching Dr. Oz not two seconds ago...).
In the words of the Beatles, Life is very short and there's no time for fussing and fighting my friends.
As the temperature beins to drop as I write this from my green chair, I can feel things start to build up. Perhaps it's the barometric pressure I'm feeling on my sinuses, or it's the swelling of my soul in my chest. The latter might be a bit dramatic... but I'm feeling it. School approacheth in less than two weeks. I'm ready to get back. Ready to take a Senior level class, ready to get Blitz Week projects underway, ready to see my friends... I'm ready.
But there are a few things I'm not ready for. I've got some things to figuratively duct tape when I get back. Some relationships need a bit of super glue, a little love, and a lot of prayer. I want to yell and I want to lash out, rationally but not irrationally. I want to be free from the metaphorical fat that's been growing around my heart (yes, I was just watching Dr. Oz not two seconds ago...).
In the words of the Beatles, Life is very short and there's no time for fussing and fighting my friends.
Monday, January 11, 2010
dirty snow.
Winter. Such a fabulous time of year. There are cold temperatures, little to no wildlife, and snow. Ah, snow. It is a thing of beauty. The little icy wonders float down to this impure world and stick to the frozen ground. More and more pour from heaven. One by one. And then they accumulate upon the tundra, making everything frozen in time, quiet in the still vastness of... snow. More than 6 inches of the beautiful heaven-fluff is preferred, but really any measurable amount of the beautfulness is amazing.
Snow has been quite abundant for the midwest this winter. And I've loved every minute of it! [except for the minutes that I didn't get to go visit School because of the snow and cold weather... but I'm not bitter]. The temperatures have been far, far below freezing and so the snow has stayed. The first snow was slightly before Christmas, and now on the 11th of January in the year of our Lord 2010, it's finally starting to melt. I am not happy about this, but I'm not unhappy about it either. There comes a time when winter needs to man up and be spring already. I will miss the snow and it's frozen goodness, and I'll even miss the ice and it's slippery disposition. But there is a side to snow I will not miss...
One cannot blame snow for its ugly side, no, it's merely a fact of life. The snow falls pure and white from the sky, it settles on the ground, and then it turns black from the salt and dust and tire dirt that lays on the road. It's disgusting, it smells bad, and it's just not pretty! It drives me nuts! Here are fairytale like houses covered in blankets of snow, all tucked in for winter. And then there is the ugly road in front of it, with charcoal gray splatters of ICK. It's gross. It makes me feel slummy and dirty and I just want to take a shower afterwards.
And then I thought about it... How much of life do we blanket in a facade of beauty? We plaster on a smile, and it's pretty and our teeth are white but really: it's cold and emotionless. Underneith the snow is that same dirt that shows up on the sides of the roads, only we don't see it because it's all covered up. The unhappiness, the pain, the bad-things are covered up, but that doesn't mean they don't still exist. The world is very much like those sooty drifts, it's just more noticeable when you try to cover them up! However, there's hope; in the words of Matthew Theissen, the end of winter makes way for spring.
I spoke to a friend about winter today. He said that he would rather be in summer weather but he likes winter clothes. He then came to the conclusion that either way, we're just trying to be warm so why not stick with summer? Why not stick with the truth? Why not stick with the state of being in which everything becomes clear? I deeply appreciate snow, I deeply appreciate cold, but at the end of the day I want real. I want to see the world just how it is, not blanketed with fakeness. If that means sunshine and Cherry Tree blossoms and swimming suits [the article of clothing I live in during the summer] so be it! I'd rather have warmth.
No dirty snow, just a dirty world.
Snow has been quite abundant for the midwest this winter. And I've loved every minute of it! [except for the minutes that I didn't get to go visit School because of the snow and cold weather... but I'm not bitter]. The temperatures have been far, far below freezing and so the snow has stayed. The first snow was slightly before Christmas, and now on the 11th of January in the year of our Lord 2010, it's finally starting to melt. I am not happy about this, but I'm not unhappy about it either. There comes a time when winter needs to man up and be spring already. I will miss the snow and it's frozen goodness, and I'll even miss the ice and it's slippery disposition. But there is a side to snow I will not miss...
One cannot blame snow for its ugly side, no, it's merely a fact of life. The snow falls pure and white from the sky, it settles on the ground, and then it turns black from the salt and dust and tire dirt that lays on the road. It's disgusting, it smells bad, and it's just not pretty! It drives me nuts! Here are fairytale like houses covered in blankets of snow, all tucked in for winter. And then there is the ugly road in front of it, with charcoal gray splatters of ICK. It's gross. It makes me feel slummy and dirty and I just want to take a shower afterwards.
And then I thought about it... How much of life do we blanket in a facade of beauty? We plaster on a smile, and it's pretty and our teeth are white but really: it's cold and emotionless. Underneith the snow is that same dirt that shows up on the sides of the roads, only we don't see it because it's all covered up. The unhappiness, the pain, the bad-things are covered up, but that doesn't mean they don't still exist. The world is very much like those sooty drifts, it's just more noticeable when you try to cover them up! However, there's hope; in the words of Matthew Theissen, the end of winter makes way for spring.
I spoke to a friend about winter today. He said that he would rather be in summer weather but he likes winter clothes. He then came to the conclusion that either way, we're just trying to be warm so why not stick with summer? Why not stick with the truth? Why not stick with the state of being in which everything becomes clear? I deeply appreciate snow, I deeply appreciate cold, but at the end of the day I want real. I want to see the world just how it is, not blanketed with fakeness. If that means sunshine and Cherry Tree blossoms and swimming suits [the article of clothing I live in during the summer] so be it! I'd rather have warmth.
No dirty snow, just a dirty world.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
the green chair
The irony. The irony of a 50s era piece of furniture. It formerly belonged to my grandparents on my dad's side [such strange people, but that's a different blog]. It was a formerly ugly, horse-hair padded chair. The back hits my 5' 8" frame around my lower sholder blades, and the butt-cushion fits easily behind my knees. The arms are wide and long. They've held many a cup of coffee or sweet tea along with a book or two and a journal. It's like having to side tables attached to the chair, only they're the same color as the rest of the chair!
But back to the color... It used to be a kelly green cotton with a light brown vine that crawled all over. Along the vine were tiny yellow and red flowers, characteristic of the fifties. Years of sitting had made it soft and a bit slouchy, however, it was the kind of slouchy and made-to-fit type of worn that made it... amazing. It was like sitting in someone's lap, someone you love. It's not the orthodox choice for a chair but it's a place you CHOOSE to sit. And then, despite your lovers knobby knees or bony thighs, it's the place you WANT to sit. The place you belong. This chair was that, only, you can't be in love with a chair like that, or at least... you shouldn't be.
The plush chair took some changes when it changed hands. My parents recieved it as a wedding gift from my grandparents. Yes, a used set of furniture from a house that smells like moth balls! But I suppose that when you're in need of furniture... you take what is given to you! Since being with my parents, the Green Chair has had two covers, one of which was a French blue with two large bows. At one point, my mother took on the admirable task of recovering it! Although it was a great job, the fabric was a hideous thick and scratchy large blue gingham. Not the chairs most beautiful look...
But today, today I sit upon a work of art. The matching couch that also resides in my room is a deep brown canvas, which goes amazing with the beige walls and green accents all around the room. The green in my room... O, the green... Green is a fickle color. It can be classy and bright, or it can be late 90s Victorian-inspired Home Interiors or it can be bright, annoying, and loud lime green [as was the color of the walls of my 70s flower child inspired room of my early teens... don't judge! We all went through that period...]. But alas, the green in my room is the happy medium. It is a spring shade or sage that is bright, but dusty, flamboyant but subdued. It's what I would call... Martha Stewart Green. And now you all know exactly what it looks like. The green is everywhere: on the handles on the Rubbermaid boxes that hold my sports equipment, the trunk my mom took to Mizzou with her, the antique lamp I bought at a garage sale, the accent pictures hanging above my bed, and even the 3-ring notebooks from last semester that are sitting on the arm of the couch. It's everwhere! But the Martha Stewart Green, which immediately makes me want to make useless greeting cards from scratch, "grows" from the bedspread. Green vines grow from the foot of the bed and on the pillow shams. It's everywhere. But mostly, I sit upon the coolest green thing in the room.
The deep, orangey Martha green has a checkerboard batter of leaves. Within the squares that are outlined by these leaves are mini green flowers. Within those flowers are either golden yellow or peachy-orange dots of color. It has this vintage feel, even though I know for a fact that the fabric is new but the chair is old. This chair, o, this chair... it's perfect for sitting up straight in. You feel really tall and almost like you're a movie star from the olden days. Like you're... Grace Kelly, Betty Davis, Doris Day, or my personal favorite: Audrey Hepburn. The had incredible posture and poise. Such grace... But not only is this chair "formal" it is totally and definitely casual as well. Slouching, lounging, legs indian-style, feet up in the chair, half laying in it half sitting in it... anything goes. It's larger than most chairs which makes it almost in its own category!
At the end of this you may be saying "Uh, it's a chair. Just a chair." But it's not. It's something so much more. It's generations of relaxation and contemplation, it's a statement of vintage decor within my room, it's a station of comfort and creativity for this lone college student blogger. What it inspires in me is the exploitation of outlook on every day life. There are random things in life that we overlook, things like watching a movie with your best friends and having an epiphany about relationships, or packing your new backpack with books for class, or cleaning your room and discovering that spider ring you got from your first boy-girl dance party in the 8th grade... There are stories we overlook. Stories that make life... LIFE. And some of these stories, well they need to be written down from the comfort of an Old Green Chair.
But back to the color... It used to be a kelly green cotton with a light brown vine that crawled all over. Along the vine were tiny yellow and red flowers, characteristic of the fifties. Years of sitting had made it soft and a bit slouchy, however, it was the kind of slouchy and made-to-fit type of worn that made it... amazing. It was like sitting in someone's lap, someone you love. It's not the orthodox choice for a chair but it's a place you CHOOSE to sit. And then, despite your lovers knobby knees or bony thighs, it's the place you WANT to sit. The place you belong. This chair was that, only, you can't be in love with a chair like that, or at least... you shouldn't be.
The plush chair took some changes when it changed hands. My parents recieved it as a wedding gift from my grandparents. Yes, a used set of furniture from a house that smells like moth balls! But I suppose that when you're in need of furniture... you take what is given to you! Since being with my parents, the Green Chair has had two covers, one of which was a French blue with two large bows. At one point, my mother took on the admirable task of recovering it! Although it was a great job, the fabric was a hideous thick and scratchy large blue gingham. Not the chairs most beautiful look...
But today, today I sit upon a work of art. The matching couch that also resides in my room is a deep brown canvas, which goes amazing with the beige walls and green accents all around the room. The green in my room... O, the green... Green is a fickle color. It can be classy and bright, or it can be late 90s Victorian-inspired Home Interiors or it can be bright, annoying, and loud lime green [as was the color of the walls of my 70s flower child inspired room of my early teens... don't judge! We all went through that period...]. But alas, the green in my room is the happy medium. It is a spring shade or sage that is bright, but dusty, flamboyant but subdued. It's what I would call... Martha Stewart Green. And now you all know exactly what it looks like. The green is everywhere: on the handles on the Rubbermaid boxes that hold my sports equipment, the trunk my mom took to Mizzou with her, the antique lamp I bought at a garage sale, the accent pictures hanging above my bed, and even the 3-ring notebooks from last semester that are sitting on the arm of the couch. It's everwhere! But the Martha Stewart Green, which immediately makes me want to make useless greeting cards from scratch, "grows" from the bedspread. Green vines grow from the foot of the bed and on the pillow shams. It's everywhere. But mostly, I sit upon the coolest green thing in the room.
The deep, orangey Martha green has a checkerboard batter of leaves. Within the squares that are outlined by these leaves are mini green flowers. Within those flowers are either golden yellow or peachy-orange dots of color. It has this vintage feel, even though I know for a fact that the fabric is new but the chair is old. This chair, o, this chair... it's perfect for sitting up straight in. You feel really tall and almost like you're a movie star from the olden days. Like you're... Grace Kelly, Betty Davis, Doris Day, or my personal favorite: Audrey Hepburn. The had incredible posture and poise. Such grace... But not only is this chair "formal" it is totally and definitely casual as well. Slouching, lounging, legs indian-style, feet up in the chair, half laying in it half sitting in it... anything goes. It's larger than most chairs which makes it almost in its own category!
At the end of this you may be saying "Uh, it's a chair. Just a chair." But it's not. It's something so much more. It's generations of relaxation and contemplation, it's a statement of vintage decor within my room, it's a station of comfort and creativity for this lone college student blogger. What it inspires in me is the exploitation of outlook on every day life. There are random things in life that we overlook, things like watching a movie with your best friends and having an epiphany about relationships, or packing your new backpack with books for class, or cleaning your room and discovering that spider ring you got from your first boy-girl dance party in the 8th grade... There are stories we overlook. Stories that make life... LIFE. And some of these stories, well they need to be written down from the comfort of an Old Green Chair.
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