On the verge of divorce?

Lately I've kind of been feeling separated from GOD. Not separated in the sense of I can't find Him, but separated in the sense of I've chosen not to let Him find me.

Kind of like what couples who want to get a divorce do...they say, "Maybe we should try it apart for a few months, just to see if we like it..."

It goes back to the whole balance thing for me...I've never seemed to be able to find the place in life where I am fully resting in Christ's grace while simultaneously relying on the strength of the Holy Spirit.

There are two extremes when it comes to my faith and neither is pretty. Sometimes I find myself legalistically trying my hardest to be completely perfect...and I end up broken and dissillusioned because shockingly enough perfection is unattainable. Or at other times I give in to grace and I just fall back on Christ...and then I end up broken and dissappointed because instead of cherishing grace I've used it as a crutch to excuse habitual sin.

As Dr. Seuss says, "Remember, life's a great balancing act."

So because I got tired of seeking out balance in my faith I just kind of let things slide. Rather than going to the LORD and trying to work these things out with Him, I asked Him for a separation. I mean, I didn't literally ask Him, but my inaction was itself an action. I made a choice not to choose. Not to choose to fix things. Not to choose Him.

Bad choice...

I don't really have much to say other than that I'm about to go beg Him for forgivenss and ask Him to take me back. And I know He will. And I know that He'll understand that this separation was just a mistake on my part...that I don't really want to divorce Him. And I know He will ignore the fact that I've taken advantage of Him and used Him. Actually, He won't ignore it...He'll acknowledge it, and then He'll forgive it.

Because that's just who He is.

I want to be the next Sherlock Holmes.

Lately I've been thinking about my purpose in life. But not on the big cosmic level that I've always associated with that line of thinking. My current thoughts are focused more on the micro-level.

I think that deep down everyone wants to change the world in some way. We all want to leave our mark. But we can't all be the next Mother Teresa. I always think of the movie, "The Incredibles," when the mom says, "Everyone is special, Dash." To which her son replies, "That's just another way of saying that no one is."

Mediocrity can be terribly overwhelming. How many people don't vote because they think that their one ballot won't really count?

I want to do something amazing that will change the world. I went to see the new Sherlock Holmes yesterday and when I left I was inspired with dreams of traveling to far places and outwhitting brilliant minds and stopping wars and beating up bad guys.

But the fact is, I'm no Sherlock. I'm not even a Watson. I'm just plain old me.

So today I was trying to reconcile all of this to myself. I can't shoot straight. I can't run very fast...or at all, if we're being realistic (When we ran the mile in my fitness class I threw up half-way through...in front of the whole class.). There are no mysteries around for me to solve...and even if there were, would I recognize them?

So what can I do? How in the world am I to leave any sort of lasting mark on this ginormous world?

But today as I whipped up some cookie dough I realized something: I may not see it now, but I've been surrounded with opportunities to do amazing things. I can't remember where it is in the Bible and I'm in a hurry or else I would go look it up or google it (Ha! I'm too lazy for google...you know it's bad!), but somewhere (thinking Ephesians...) Paul talks about how the LORD has prepared good works for us.

GOD has surrounded us with amazing chances to touch others' lives.

And maybe I feel like an old lady when I sit around making/baking things for other people, but I think that maybe those teensy tiny acts of service are my shot at being Sherlock. They're my chance to be a hero and make a difference.

And maybe I hate admitting when I'm wrong and in need of forgiveness. But maybe those times of humility are when I can see GOD the clearest. Maybe those times are when I see myself the clearest.

Maybe GOD gives us the little moments because He knows that we can't all be the next Mother Teresa. Maybe GOD doesn't want ten million Mother Teresas. Maybe He wants ten million people who do small, simple things to love and serve others and to love and serve Him.

That said, if I'm ever given the opportunity to travel the world at a breakneck pace all while puzzling through a plot to take over the world, I will not be passing it up.

Stuff I Currently Love

1. Kelly Clarkson's new album - I sang my heart out to her music in middle school, and I find myself doing the same with her new stuff...I actually bought the album for my dad for Christmas (he's a die hard Kelly fan...not sure how that happened...), but somebody needed to preview it to make sure he would like it.
2. Glitter Eye Liner - my suitemate bought me a tube for Christmas, and I have to confess that I'm addicted.
3. Chai Tea - no explanation needed. It's amazing. End of story.
4. C.S. Lewis - I'm afraid I might have fallen in love with a dead man...
5. Bangs - I gave in and cut my bangs back again. I had every intention of growing them out, but then yesterday I stood in front of the mirror and realized how much I missed them. So I pulled out the scissors and the rest is history.
6. Peanut Butter Cookies
7. Books by Dan Brown - if you need an explanation, then go read one of his books and you'll understand.
8. Crandberry Juice - somehow I've developed a serious addiction to this stuff...not sure where it came from though...
9. The ten million projects I want to make on here.
10. Cocoa Roasted Almonds

Unfinished Conversations

Now that the semester is over I find myself with the time to work on my three hundred and ten book reading list...I've only read twenty nine of them. I'm kind of in love with books...it's a dangerous relationship (also slightly nerdy...).

I hate it when I'm reading and something pulls me away from my book. It feels like I'm tearing myself away from someone in the middle of a conversation. I always finish whatever it is I have to do as quickly as  possible so that I can get back to my dear friend (and by friend I mean whatever novel/serial killer book/memoir that I'm reading).

The funny thing is though, I do the opposite in life. Albeit with people, not books. It's easy for me to cast aside a person rather than finish a conversation I'm supposed to have with them.

Because sometimes there are things that need to be said that I don't want to say (or hear, as the case may be).

The truth isn't an easy thing to handle. It's hard to find the balance between not giving someone enough truth and pushing far too much truth onto someone. One extreme puts me in the position of being an ingenuine liar and the other turns me into an obnoxious inconsiderate tattle-tale/nag.

That's the thing with balance though...a person can only be in balance for that split second when all of the cards are right, when all of the chances fall perfectly in line. And then he or she falls back toward an extreme.

But that's what makes grace so beautiful. Grace comes and sits at the other end of the proverbial teeter-totter and helps us to find balance again. Grace gives us the strength to speak the truth (rather than hide it), while also giving us the wisdom to know how to share the truth lovingly (rather than bluntly or arrogantly).

Confession: I have idolized Selena Gomez.

Lately I've found myself drawn to this music video:

I'm not going to lie...I may or may not have choreographed my own personal dance video to this song. I'm not really sure why I like it so much...maybe it's the cute Asian girl who announces Selena at the beginning...maybe it's Selena's lovely little Marie Antoinette getup...maybe it's the fact that it's super repetitive so it was easy to learn the lyrics. Whatever it is, at some point I realized my obsession was getting a little dangerous because I caught myself dancing to this song in front of my mirror while wearing red high heels, striped leggings, and purple and blue hair clip-ins.

The other day someone was teasing me about idolizing a celebrity who's younger than me, but I did some research and I would like the record to show that I am in fact, younger than Selena Gomez.

The Mona Lisa and the Incarnation

Christmas is rapidly approaching, and this year, I find myself thinking a lot about the doctrine of the Incarnation of Jesus. I'd never really thought about how radical and miraculous it is that GOD became one of us.

I'm still reading the memoir Girl Meets God (It's one of those books that I always read really, really slowly so that I can soak it all in.), and at one point Lauren talks about the value the Incarnation holds for her. This is what she has to say:

"Here is the thing about God. He is so big and perfect that we really can't understand Him. We can't possess Him, or apprehend Him. Moses learned this when he climbed up Mount Sinai and saw that the radiance of God's face would burn him up should he gaze upon it directly. But God so wants to be in relationship with us that He makes Himself small, smaller than He really is, smaller and more humble than His infinite, perfect self, so that we might be able to get to Him, a little bit."

I love being worshipped. Lately I've really been struggling with seeking praise and glory for myself. And when I really, really want people to notice me, I make sure to make myself seem bigger (metaphorically speaking, of course) than I am. I set myself on a pedestal so that the world can see how great I am. I play up all of my good qualities and hide all of the bad ones.

The thing about GOD is, He doesn't do that. At all. And He's actually worthy of worship. But rather than loudly demanding that we worship Him, He quietly (but fervently) reminds us of His glory in (seemingly) small ways...like when He sent His Son to the earth as a baby, and not as a great and glorious knight in shining armor.

GOD is flawless, so it's not like He has anything to hide. He's only goodness, only greatness. GOD blows the competition away when it comes to beauty, goodness, intelligence, and pretty much any other admirable quality. He's the ultimate expression of wonderfulness, because He's the original model for wonderfulness.

Maybe this is blasphemous, but lately I've started to think of GOD like I do the Mona Lisa. Everyone has seen a copy of the Mona Lisa. Everyone recognizes her subtle smile. Everyone postulates about who she was. But most of us have never actually seen the original Mona Lisa. We've seen copies in books or stores or on our Great Aunt Martha's living room wall.

And sometimes when someone sees a copy of the Mona Lisa, he or she is drawn to the real thing. They travel to the Louvre, where they see the real deal and utter the famous expression, "It's smaller than I expected."

Here is what I think: GOD's people are a lot like the copies of the Mona Lisa that we've all seen floating around. We're a copy of His beauty, but we still don't compare at all to the real deal. Rather, we exist to remind people of the real deal. We exist so that when people see us, they don't worship us, but rather are drawn to the LORD. They seek Him out, and when they see Him they exclaim, "He's bigger than I expected."

It would be ridiculous for a person to try to sell a copy of the Mona Lisa as if it were the original painting. That person would be labeled as a fraud. So who are we as followers of GOD to try to sell ourselves as if we were the real treasure? Who am I, that I think I can put myself on a pedestal when really the only good things about me are from the LORD and aren't of my own doing?

We are so finite. We have such a limited ability to comprehend GOD. But He knows that and understands that (in fact, He created us that way), so rather than demanding that we try to wrap our minds around Him in His vastness, He's given us the Incarnation, so that we can begin to grasp Him and His glory.

A Light at the End of the Poetry Tunnel

There are only three more weeks left in the semester...that's two weeks of class and then finals. To be honest, I'm ready for the semester to be over. I've never really liked the last few weeks of any semester because it feels like they turn into this slow trudge towards the finish.

I've really been feeling this way about my poetry class. I mean, I liked the class a lot for a while, but once we got into the whole suicidal/homicidal/beastiality/adultery/creepy stuff, the class got kind of old. Yesterday I recieved a breath of fresh air in that class though...it was a light at the end of my poetry tunnel.

I've been thinking a lot about loss lately. Not for any real reason, but just because I'm the type of person that likes to hold onto things, so when I lose something or go through any sort of big change, I tend to internalize it and dwell on it. So because the past year or so has been one that held a lot of change for me (particularly internal change), I've just been looking back and thinking about things and pretty much living in a nostalgic funk for the past month and a half.


So this villanelle really resonated with me:


One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop


The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.


And then I remembered why I like poetry: I can always manage to find myself in a poem, especially when I'm not expecting to.

Hallelujah

Tonight I found myself sitting on my parents' kitchen floor sporadically singing "Hallelujah" to my dog in between polishing off the plate of cookies I'd just made. It was nice to finally catch some alone time...

I'd never really thought that much about the words to that song before. But tonight some of the phrases really stuck out to me. Especially the line, "Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah."

The word hallelujah (and this is my super basic knowledge of Hebrew speaking here) means "Praise Yah" - or rather, praise GOD. I don't know if it's wrong to think of Leonard Cohen's song as being worshipful, but tonight as I crooned it to Puppy, I did.

So...having that small piece of knowledge in mind changes my thoughts on these lyrics a bit:

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It’s not a cry you can hear at night
It’s not somebody who has seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Old Friends and New Places

This is my friend Lauren (who has very good taste...she picked out the necklace I'm wearing). She's six years old, which is the age that I was when I met her mom. Lauren's mom, Nicole, used to be my mumzy's boss. When I would go in to see my mum at work, Miss Nicole would stop her meetings and take me to her office and brush my hair while I played on her computer. Miss Nicole is a big part of some of my favorite childhood memories...she took me to see my first ballet, she gave me several very, very beautiful children's books (all of which I still own), and when she took me to the Renaissance Festival she bought me a gorgeous ring and she let me get my hair braided.

The most important thing Miss Nicole did for me was the way she always treated me like I was the most important person in the world to her. When I first met her, I was a scrawny six year old. She didn't have to take time out of her day to spend time with and talk to me. She didn't have to ask me questions about my life and what was important to me. But she did. She made a six year old girl feel very important. She's one of those people that left a big mark on me. She taught me the value of treating people (especially children) with generosity and kindness.

A few years ago, Miss Nicole adopted Lauren, and now I get the chance to spend time with both of them. This past weekend we went to the American Girl store where I reminisced and relived the magic of my childhood...I was a huge American Girl fan and I had never been to the store before, so I think I might have been just as excited as Lauren (But not as excited as the little girl we saw shaking the locked doors of the store before it opened!). I had one of the regular dolls and a bitty baby, along with some of the clothes and various paraphernalia that went along with them. As much as I liked the toys, I was desperately in love with the books. I read and re-read all of the Felicity and Kirsten books (both of whom they discontinued...).

Anyways, between looking at all the reminders of my childhood and being there with Nicole, I kind of forgot that I'm a grown-up now...or at least as grown-up as you're supposed to be at nineteen. I ran around the store looking at all of the toys and books, and remembering my elementary-school friends, Shelby and Juliane, and how we would play for hours and hours with our American Girl dolls. I've been feeling pretty nostalgic lately, so going to this store with Nicole was just feeding the fire. Then someone asked where my daughter was, and the magic was over.

I'm home.

This morning I woke up to the moon shining on my face through the skylight in my bedroom. Even though it was 5:45 in the morning, it was the best way possible to start the first day of my Thanksgiving Break.

I'm so glad I'm finally home. Even though everything at school was going swimmingly, I still found myself with a severe case of cabin fever in the days leading up to my break. I can't tell you how many times I paced back and forth across my room or how many poems I wrote about waiting.

There's just something about being here...I've missed all the stuff that goes along with it...drinking coffee obsessively...talking about crime and chemical warfare and the many working of the judicial system with my dad...comparing craft projects with my mumzy...teasing my brother...sneaking food to my dog...baking...reading...more coffee...sleep...wake up and repeat...sigh...I'm in my element.

(There's also something about being here that makes me think in ellipses...)

Commemoration of the Faithful Departed

My friend's grandma died this weekend. I met Me-maw once. She was a really funny woman. As my friend wheeled Me-maw through the nursing home we passed by a mentally handicapped man and Me-maw yelled, "That man pretends to be stupid." As awful as it was for me to laugh, I did. Really hard. She also like to sing. I played some hymns on the piano and she and my friend sang along. That was some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard.

This past weekend I got a hold of a couple of old Lutheran hymnals. I'm planning on using most of them to craft with (I have an AMAZING plan, but once again I'll tell all after they're done.), but I've kind of been using one of them as a pseudo book of prayer. There are prayers in it for almost every occasion and I found one commemorating the faithful departed. As I read it I thought of Me-maw...

Merciful Father, whose dear Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, rose Victor over death and the grave, we remember with thanksgiving your faithful people who have trusted in Christ, whose tears are gone, and whose sorrows have turned to joy; and we humbly implore You to strengthen us in the confident hope of the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come; through our Lord Jesus Christ.

A Love So Real

Last night instead of doing the ten million things on my to-do list I read a novel - a whole novel. Granted, it was a short one, but I still think it shows how good it was that it supplanted all of my other priorities. It was Edith Wharton's Ethan Frome. Let me tell you...if I'd been in any sort of crying mood this one would have had me weeping into my pillow through the night. Thankfully I wasn't inclined to be emotional last night, so instead it's just had me thinking all day today about the nature of love.

I would give you a complete run-down of the book, but I have this thing where I hate when people rely on a synopsis rather than just reading something on their own. So if you want to know what it's about then find me and borrow my copy and read it. Or go buy your own.

Anyways here are the basics that you need: it's a tragical love story about a man and woman who have fallen in love but can't be together because he's already married. (Also, props to Edith for keeping the whole story exceptionally clean...she really could have taken it into dangerous territory.) At the end of the story [spoiler warning] the two try to commit suicide together, but they both botch it and end up spending the rest of their (very long) lives being taken care of by the man's wife because they sustain some nasty injuries rather than ending up dead.

In my American Lit. class we're reading Longfellow, and today I read the poem "The Cross of Snow." Longfellow didn't have much luck in love; his first wife died when she miscarried their child, and his second wife burnt to death in a horrible accident. "The Cross of Snow" is about his second wife. I think it's a beautiful piece, but I know that most people aren't as fond of poetry as I am, so I won't make you read the whole thing, but I will give you my favorite line:

That sun-defying, in its deep ravines

Displays a cross of snow upon its side.

Such is the cross I wear upon my breast

These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes

And seasons, changeless since the day she died.



Poor Longfellow...I think a part of him died when Francis did. The world must have lost a lot of its magic and splendor for him...but obviously not all of it considering the amazing works he turned out in great quantities.

I can't imagine being loved by someone in these ways. They seem so...intense and scary and insane and over-the-top.  They remind me of something John Cusack says in a movie about a love so real that even when you're dead it hurts.

But I am loved in these ways.

I also happen to be reading a book called Girl Meets God. It's a memoir about a Jewish woman and how she learns to marry her Jewish upbringing to her new Christian faith. It's one of my favorite books, and I've read it several times, but each time I find new things in it that make me think.

At some point in the book she talks about being in love with her boyfriend and she says of him, " It feels like we have been in love a long, long time, and also like it is brand-spanking new, and will stay just that new forever. The only other person I have fallen in love with in that way is Jesus, and I hope that goes more smoothly. I hope I remember, when I'm bored with Him, and antsy, and sick of brushing my teeth next to the same god every morning, I hope I remember not to leave Him. I am not so worried that He will leave me. The Bible, after all, is full of stories about God sticking with His bride, no matter how stiff-necked and prideful and unfaithful she may be."

That paragraph really slapped me in the face...

You see, Jesus and I have been together for quite some time now. And as much as I hate to admit it, the wonder of Him has really worn off. He's not new and exciting anymore...I've broken Him in and adjusted Him to fit into my life. Dare I say that He's become mundane in my eyes? The wonder of Him dying for me has faded into the background. He's a fixture in my life, but He's not someone I really appreciate anymore. I'd be lost without Him, but I know that He's not going anywhere so I don't really worry about making Him happy anymore.

The worst part of all of that is that He's crazy in love with me. So much so that He gave up His life. I didn't do anything to deserve that love, but He's given it to me anyways...and He continues to give it to me.

I wish I could wrap up my thoughts with a nice little paragraph about how I apologized to Him and now it's all fixed, but let's face it: apologies only fix everything when you're five years old. I mean, I did apologize to Him, and He and I talked about the situation for a while, but it's not all fixed. And it's not going to be all fixed tomorrow. I've wronged Him. I've spent a very very long time disregarding the One who loves me the most. I have to re-learn Him now. I have to rediscover Him. And that's going to take some time.

But the good news is that He understands and He's forgiven me and He still loves me like He always has. 



Change

November made her complete appearance this morning...I know I'm strange, but I just can't help being in love with the cold and the rain and the damp and the gray...there's just something about this weather that makes me feel complete...maybe it's because it gives me an excuse to wear sweaters and scarves and drink that extra pot of coffee.

I've been thinking a lot about the future lately. Not the future in general, just my future. Although I have to admit, I've been worrying about my future more than just contemplating it.

You see, I'm worried that GOD is going to make even more changes to me than He already has. I don't want to change! I'm happy the way I am! In fact, all of the changes He's already made to me have been painful. Why in the world would I be okay with Him making even more?

And it was with those thoughts in mind that I went to chapel yesterday...

And of course, I read a book instead of listening to the speaker...

And this is some of what I read:

"We are, not metaphorically, but in very truth, a Divine work of art, something that GOD is making, and therefore something with which He will not be satisfied until it has a certain character...Love, in its own nature, demands the perfecting of the beloved; that the mere 'kindness' which tolerates anything except suffering in its object is, in that respect, at the opposite pole of Love. When we fall in love with a woman, do we cease to care whether she is clean or dirty, fair or foul? Do we not rather then first begin to care? Does any woman regard it as a sign of love in a man that he neither knows nor cares how she is looking? Love may, indeed, love the beloved when her beauty is lost: but not because it is lost. Love may forgive all infirmities and love still in spite of them: but Love cannot cease to will their removal...You asked for a loving GOD: you have one...What we would here and now call our 'happiness' is not the end GOD chiefly has in view" but when we are as such as He can love without impediment, we shall in fact be happy." (C. S. Lewis's The Problem of Pain)

Some Disjointed Birthday Thoughts

Today is a special day...well, for me it is, I don't know that anyone else really gets the significance today holds.

It's my blog's birthday. A year ago, today, I wrote my very first blog post. I had no idea what I was doing, and I had no idea that anyone would ever bother to read my words other than myself and the five people I could manage to con into giving me feedback.

A lot of things have changed since then...I'm in the process of adding several other areas of study to my current major. New friends have come into my life and old friends have left. I've learned things about myself and the people I love. I've discovered that I do in fact like yogurt and italian salad dressing (not together though). I've discovered the joy of Pandora and Pinterest, rather than iTunes and Facebook.

Sometimes things have changed only to end up dumping me back at square one...my hair is back to its Little Orphan Annie look after having been blonde, bright red, brown, black, and pink, all in varying degrees of length. I've quit coffee several times, only to resume my addiction even more seriously than the previous time after each attempt. I've changed my writing style several times, only to end up right back to just plain writing without ever considering the grammatical correctness. I'm back to curling up with the good old NKJV at the end of the day, rather than the ESV.

It's strange for me to look back at my posts from the past year. In some cases it's a struggle for me to find myself in some of the things I wrote. In others I feel like I'm looking in a metaphorical mirror.

I'm hoping that after this post all of the nostalgia will be out of my system, because it's really getting kind of old. It's strange for me to reminisce so much...usually I'm caught up in the future (I think it goes back to the whole Annie mentality of holding out for "Tomorrow."). I meant to be up-beat in this post, but now I find myself making another pot of coffee and staring at myself in the mirror across from my bed (which is code for I'm starting to mope for no good reason). So I'm going to conclude my ramblings and turn on some Michael Jackson  and dance around so that I don't waste the rest of the day lying around doing nothing.

PS Sorry that my writing has gotten so disjointed lately, I'm not sure what's up with me. Just rest assured that if you're having trouble finding the point in my thoughts, you're not alone because I'm not even sure what the point is in all the stuff on my mind lately.

Nostalgia

I'm not a terribly nostalgic person, but this past week I've really been missing my childhood...

Earlier in the week I saw one of my best friends from elementary school. She doesn't seem to have changed at all, and seeing her made me miss they days when she and I would play in the dirt and run around pretending to be horses. I'll never forget the time she tried to make me into a beauty queen and I ended up with a face covered in blush. (Then she tried to fix it by covering a loofah with soap and water and then pressing it into my face...I'm amazed I'm not blind.) I'll never forget the silly games we would play. I'll never forget how desperately we wanted to be grown up and on our own...

Now I find myself wishing I could go back to those times. They were much more simple. Everything seemed more magical. There were no limits. The future hadn't happened yet, so I could imagine that I really could do anything I wanted.

I hadn't yet realized that science was a mystery that I would never solve, so I could still imagine myself as a doctor. I hadn't yet realized that I really would never hit that growth spurt I was counting on, so I could imagine myself as a tall, blonde, beautiful model. I definitely hadn't realized that things really were much more complicated in the real world, so I could imagine that as a grown up my only problem would be deciding where to live.

Most of all, I hadn't realized that I never really would be grown up. I hadn't realized that there wouldn't be a day of recognizing that I was done growing. I hadn't realized that there really isn't a point in time at which a person stops changing.

It was with these thoughts that I went to my Grandma's eightieth birthday party. I saw cousins and relatives whom I hadn't seen in five or six years. I saw old family friends whom I hadn't seen in an even longer time. I had a good time, and was able to rest and relax more than I have in a while. It was good.

But the nostaglia hit me harder than ever.

My mumzy and I drove by my grandparents old house, and it filled me with a strange mix of emotions. I have so many good memories tied to that house...getting stuck in trees (I was always the one who had to be rescued.), making pies with my Grandpa, hiding under a table from all of my cousins so that I could read a book in peace, playing the piano for my Grandma, throwing biscuits at all of the nasty cats my Grandpa kept around....

I miss those days. I really miss them. But I'm so glad that I got to have them in the first place. I'm so thankful for them.

And I made some good new memories this weekend...I heard some new stories about my Grandpa, and how fond of me he was (it's always nice to hear about how someone loved you), it's now become a tradition to push my cousin Lee's face into a piece of cake every time we have a party, and I also managed to get in some pseudo-sister time with my cousin Emma. And of course, everyone fell in line with the family tradition of constantly offering me food. I can't tell you how many times someone told me to go get another piece of cake or how many times someone asked me what sort of diet I'm on...someday this darn metabolism will slow down!

While it was a semi-sad, nostalgic weekend for me, it was nice, because I left feeling really loved. I guess I hadn't really thought about how much I love these crazy people before, but I really do...I really do. And it's nice to know that they love me back.

Psalm 119:73-80

Your hands have made me and fashioned me;
Give me understanding, that I may learn Your commandments.
Those who fear You will be glad when they see me,
Because I have hoped in Your word.
I know, O LORD, that Your judgments are right,
And that in faithfulness You have afflicted me.
Let, I pray, Your merciful kindness be for my comfort,
According to Your word to Your servant.
Let Your tender mercies come to me, that I may live;
For Your law is my delight.
Let the proud be ashamed,
For they treated me wrongfully with falsehood;
But I will meditate on Your precepts.
Let those who fear You turn to me,
Those who know Your testimonies.
Let my heart be blameless regarding Your statutes,
That I may not be ashamed. 

These have kind of been my thoughts these past few weeks, and it was nice to wake up and read them this morning. I love the book of Psalms so, so much. It's so comforting to know that David thought and said and did and prayed a lot of the same things I do. He and I must be kindred spirits...

Yet Another Round of Crafting

This time my friend and I went all out. We did the project where you hot glue crayons to a canvas and then melt them with a hair dryer. Here are our results:

My first real confession in a really long time...

I don't really want to write this post. But it's one that I've needed to write for a while now. And now it's crunch time, because I feel like I won't have a moment's peace until I get these words out there.

I don't want to write the things I'm about to write because most (if not all) of you people reading this are going to thing I'm being stupid and overly analytical. I've put off this post because I'm afraid of what people who read it are going to think. Which is ironic because caring what people think is a big part of the reason this post needs to be written.

So here it goes...(PS I've become famous lately for my overly long introductions into actually getting to the point of things...)

I owe every single person who has ever read this blog an apology. I also owe myself a pretty big apology. Most of all, I owe the LORD an apology.

Here is the reason for giving out said apologies: I have used most (if not all) of the words I have posted on here in selfish, thoughtless ways. I have posted silly, stupid things because I wanted to impress people. I have mindlessly poured out my heart to random internet readers because I wanted people to think of me as being intelligent, spiritual, wise, perfect, beautiful, and funny. I have given little pieces of my heart to the freaking internet! I have shared things that weren't supposed to be shared because I wanted attention.

I thought that if I could create this amazing sounding life online, then somehow I would become that girl. I would become the girl who is super-creative and funny. I would become the girl who always has inspiring thoughts and convictions. I would become the girl who has it all together.

I'm not that girl.

When I started blogging, my heart was in the right place. It really was.

But as soon as I started seeing statistics and gaining readers and getting feedback from random people about how much they liked my work, it turned into a monster. I turned into a monster.

Rather than speaking genuinely from my heart, I started sitting around thinking up inspiring things to write about. Rather than sharing the real (and slightly embarrassing) convictions the LORD was placing on my heart, I chose to make up nice, deep-sounding things and pretend like those were what GOD was teaching me. I wrote based on my 'Target Audience.' I wrote based on the types of numbers I thought I would get. (Even now, it's very difficult for me not to throw in some numbers just so that you can see how popular my blog is. And the only reason that sentence is making it into this post is because it shows just how prideful I am about this whole thing.)

I feel so fake.

I've become one of those girls who says one thing and does the complete opposite. Actually, I've been that girl for a while and I'm just now waking up to it. Deep down, I've known the truth for quite some time, but I wouldn't allow it to actually reach consciousness because I knew that when it did, it would hurt.

Man, I'd forgotten what it feels like to actually share something I'm seriously convicted about on here. I'd forgotten the simultaneous sense of embarrassment and relief. I'd forgotten what it felt like to actually be passionate about my words, instead of just proud.

So here is my promise to you, as a reader. I will never ever make up another thing. I will never ever waste my words and your time on silly, meaningless things. If I don't have anything worthwhile to say, I just won't say anything. Because the numbers just aren't worth it. I would rather be a real girl with no followers and no blog hits than a fake girl with hundreds of followers and millions of blog hits.

If I'm not writing solely for the purpose of glorifying GOD, my work is meaningless. I ought to write things because I know that they will make Him smile, not because I want to make you, as a reader, smile (not that both of you smiling wouldn't be a nice perk). I ought to share my heart with the intention of allowing the LORD to speak through me, not with the intention of demonstrating how spiritual I am.

Anyways, that's my apology. And my soapbox. Sorry it was so long. If you're willing to stick around some more, I do have a nice little addendum:

Regardless of the fact that I've been writing with the wrong attitude and mindset, I do still feel like the LORD has really used my work. Which I think is cool, because it goes to show that GOD can take our screw-ups and use them. His strength is made perfect in our weaknesses.

I'm kind of in love with Fall...

So I know that I keep posting about how excited I am about it being Fall, but I just can't help myself. I just love this time of the year!

I have been crafting like nobody's business. Yesterday I made this:

"With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?" -Oscar Wilde-

My roommate and I made these jars too! They're covered in paint and epsom salts so they look snowy and they have tea lights inside them! They're really cool! We covered a bunch of sparkling grape juice bottles too!

This is my pecan roll. I bought it at Panera this afternoon. I'm really excited about it.

Some Random Fall Stuff

So I know I've been a little out of touch lately, and for that I'd like to apologize my dear, lovely readers. However, it was completely unavoidable! Things have just been crazy and busy, and thus, I've taken to neglecting you.

Fall is here! I know I've already posted about that, but I can't help but being super excited about it still! I love fall! I love holidays! I love all of the stuff that comes along with this time of year! I love the scarves and the coats and the extra coffee that I can justify drinking because it's cold and I love the excuse to just stay indoors and read a book or make food or craft projects! Right now I'm just sitting in bed listening to Michael Buble/Sara Bareilles/The Chronicles of Narnia soundtrack while writing out this post and drinking a gallon of coffee...sigh...

Last night I made the most amazing cake! I like to call it Peanut-Butter-Chocolate-Deliciousness...sigh...that was such a good cake...

Anyways, this was my second attempt at this cake, and I think I have finally perfected the recipe!

Here's the recipe: (Warning: not for the faint of heart! Only attempt if you have much time and patience!)

4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup all purpose flour
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 cup tightly packed brown sugar
1/3 cup creamy peanut butter
2 eggs
1/4 cup sour cream
1/4 cup hot water
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup semi sweet chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 325F.
Line the bottom of a 9 x 13 pan with parchment. Set aside.
Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Mix together brown sugar, peanut butter and butter for two minutes. Add eggs and mix for another 2 minutes. Scrape down the sides and mix for another minute.
Add half of the flour mixture and mix until incorporated about 20 seconds. Then add the sour cream, mixing again for 20 seconds. Gradually add the remaining flour mixture. Add the hot water in a slow, steady stream and mix on low to combine, about 30 seconds. Add the vanilla and mix for another 10 seconds. Add the chocolate chips and use a rubber spatula to finish mixing the ingredients until thoroughly combined.
Spread the cake batter in the pan. Bake for about 22 minutes.

Chocolate Peanut Icing
1/2 bag of chocolate chips
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/8 cup granulated sugar
2 TBSP peanut butter
1 TBSP unsalted butter
Place the chocolate in a bowl and set aside. Heat the cream, butter, peanut butter and butter in a saucepan over medium heat. When hot, stir in the sugar. Bring to a boil. Pour the creme mixture over the chocolate. Wait 5 minutes and stir the mixture until smooth. Place in fridge for about 5-10 minutes and place into a pipe bag.
Assemble:
Cut cake in half. Pipe half of the icing on top of one half and spread it around, then place the other half on top of that. Pipe the rest of the icing in a pretty design on the top! Serve! Enjoy!

(Sorry I didn't get any pictures! We ate it as soon as it was done!)

This is where I borrowed the recipe from. I tweaked it a bit though.

Other things I have been doing lately in celebration of this lovely time of year:

Enjoying my daily cup (or pot...) of coffee. Yes, I am a full-fledged addict again. Aren't my nails super cute?!? My friend did them all Fall-y for me!

In celebration of the Fall, I have begun the task of reading all seven of the Harry Potter books. Again.

And of course, I have to maintain my girlish side with some Jane Austen and Emily Dickinson. Random fact: the movie Leap Year has become my new go-to chick flick. I'm not a huge chick flick chick, but this movie has kind of done me in.

I've definitely had more than my fair share of sparkling grape juice lately...next to coffee, that's the best stuff in the world. Anyways, I've been collecting glass bottles and jars to decorate for Christmas with! I have a super amazing idea, but I'm not going to share it with you until I'm finished with it! For now, there's just a bunch of glass stuff sitting around my room.

Fall is here!

Today I walked back to my room between my composition class and my poetry class, and I realized something: fall is here! I came to this realization because I started shivering as the wind hit my face. Of course, fall decided to make its appearance on the day that I'm wearing a dress!

Thankfully I was headed back to my room, so I was able to make a pot of coffee and pull out fuzzy socks and a scarf. These things made me happy.

A Wordless Post Depicting My Hair Changes Over the Years

I'm kind of in the Christmas Spirit...and it's October.

Yes, I will admit it, I have already started listening to Christmas music.

Also, thanks to pinterest, I have turned into one of Santa's little elves. I've also managed to suck some of my compradres into helping me make this stuff!

We've already managed to acquire plenty of supplies too!

Yes, those boxes are all full of craft stuff, and yes, there is an enormous amount of yarn escaping out from under my bed.

Hopefully nobody notices that the jars in the glass recycling have suddenly disappeared.

LOL

I have a question: since when is lol the new period? Someone pointed out to me the other day that rather than using standard punctuation, most people just end their sentences with lol. This bothers me. Personally, I think that the letters lol just look like a guy drowning. I don't think he's laughing out loud. That's my rant for the day.

A Link I Like

This post isn't by me, but it's really, really good.

My Security Blanket...I mean hat.

It's one of those days...I just woke up from accidental nap l,000,462. In the library. I thought if I took myself out of my usual sleeping environment then I might actually get the butt-load (yes, that's a technical term) of stuff I need to get done, done.

Instead I feel asleep on top of a ginormous stack of books. Should have had the extra cup of coffee...

Anyways, I thought now would be a good time to tell you about my security hat seeing as I'm currently wearing it and I also need to wake myself up somewhat before I delve into the depths of studying suicidal poets for my poetry class. I got it this summer, and it's taken on the role of security blanket in my life. I put it on after looking at myself in the mirror today. This is me wearing my security hat. Am I not just the cutest darn thing you've ever seen in your whole life?

My Novella

Okay...so I'm doing something I've never done before and I'm seriously uncomfortable about it...but it's now or never, right? And I mean, I was super scared when I first started blogging and that turned out swimmingly, didn't it?

Anyways, lately my creativity has reared its ugly head and started turning every person I come into contact with into characters, and every place I go into settings, and every argument I have into conflicts, and every funny thing that happens to me into some sort of ironic sub-plot and every...you get the picture. So because of all that I've taken on numerous huge writing projects. And one of them is an online novella. It's rough, and it's my first attempt at writing something fiction specifically so that people can read it, so...I'm having a lot of trouble letting it be read. As in I'm so uncomfortable with this that I'm making this post longer so that you have to read more in order to get to the link at the end. I just feel kind of naked letting people read my stuff. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

So here it is.

PS I've been sitting here trying to make myself hit publish for the past ten minutes.

Missing Some Stuff...

I'm feeling a little nostalgic today...

It all started when I un-subscribed to the College Board SAT e-mail question a day thing...I've gotten those e-mails for years. My mumzy signed me up for them so that I could practice for the test every day. Honestly, in all the years I've gotten those, I think I probably answered ten. And of course, after I actually took the SAT I just stopped looking at them and automatically hit delete. So today, I decided that seeing as I am now a sophmore in college, I should just un-subscribe to them. So I did it. And for some strange reason a little wave of sadness hit me.

Then I started thinking about my beloved Borders again...I got a message from Barnes and Noble the other day telling me that they were taking over my Borders account. For someone who still carries the little Borders card on her key ring, that message did not make my day. I miss that store. I spent so much time there, and honestly I think my heart will just break if they turn mine into a clothing store or some other such nonsense.

Then for some reason I started thinking about the mole that fell off of my face. It never came back. I find this seriously dissapointing because of the ten million moles on my body, my favorite one had to be the one to go.

There are some random people I've been missing lately too. Namely, my friend Steve from Korea. We had one of those strange friendships where you're really close when you go to the same school, but then when you live a million miles apart keeping up with each other doesn't seem as important. I mean, we still talk from time to time, but it's not the same (especially because I don't have to sit and decipher his accent anymore!).

So of course, after thinking about all of the little things and people and places that are no longer in my life, I made myself a cup of coffee (PS my addiction is back and it's alive and kicking...I'm back up to half a pot a day.), got a bowl of Marshmellow Mateys, got back in bed, and started blogging. Because coffee, food, and my bed can solve anything. Granted, it would be a lot better if Puppy were here...

My Wedding Complex

I have a serious wedding complex. I am not a fan of weddings. I don't like going to them or thinking about being in one. I dislike them so much that I already have plans to elope. I'm not really sure where this aversion to weddings came from, but I definitely know that I don't like them.

However...

I am in love with the show, "Say 'Yes' to the Dress." There's just something about lying in bed, eating a jar of maraschino cheeries, and watching a bunch of spoiled women decide what to wear on their wedding days. The brides are bratty, and the mothers are annoying, but the fathers are sweet and the grooms are adorable. I love watching the poor sappy man stand at the end of the aisle and wait for his sweet little bride to reach him. Although in some cases the bride is more of an Amazonian warrior.

A Manifesto

Once I heard an analogy about how un-forgiveness is like a cage. When you refuse to forgive someone you trap that person inside your heart, making it impossible for you to let the situation go, and move on. You'd think that keeping this analogy in mind would make it easier to forgive people. After all, who wants to carry around a load of hurt in their heart? Who wants to constantly think of the person who wronged them?

I do.

Well...I don't want to, but I tend to do it anyways. I carry a lot of bitterness around. Towards girls who made thoughtless remarks about my appearance and personality. Towards boys (half of whom didn't know of my existence) who took up a lot of space in my mind and heart for a time, but then ended up not being "the one." Towards teachers and authority figures who I feel have let me down. Towards myself for making childish mistakes over and over and over again. Towards random people who I don't really know, for no real reason other than they remind me of hurtful people and situations from the past.

My bitterness whispers to me throughout the day about how I am justified in being unhappy. It's okay to be angry because I have been wronged, hurt, mistreated, and used. Those things excuse my behavior. I have been treated unkindly, so why should I bother with kindness toward others? People who I trusted failed me, so why should I open myself up to new relationships that might also fall apart? It's okay to pretend to be invincible, to be cold toward others, to hide behind a slowly cracking shell of perfection, to dislike people based on their appearance, or their friends, or their voice, or any other random reason I can think of.

No.

Bitterness is toxic. It blocks out the sunshine and it murders my hope and my happiness. I have ceded enough of my life to un-forgiveness. I have held all of the hurts and mistakes hostage in my heart for long enough.

Yes, people have failed me. Yes, I have failed myself. But there is more to the story.

If GOD, who has much more right to be un-forgiving than I do, was both capable and willing to forgive those people (and me), then I have no right to hold onto all of that crap anymore.

These words are not my own...but the thoughts are very similar to mine.

The Breather

by Billy Collins

Just as in the horror movies

when someone discovers that the phone calls
are coming from inside the house

so too, I realized
that our tender overlapping
has been taking place only inside me.

All that sweetness, the love and desire—

it’s just been me dialing myself
then following the ringing to another room

to find no one on the line,

well, sometimes a little breathing

but more often than not, nothing.

To think that all this time—

which would include the boat rides,

the airport embraces, and all the drinks—

it’s been only me and the two telephones,
the one on the wall in the kitchen

and the extension in the darkened guest room upstairs.

Team Snape

So I'm currently reading the seventh Harry Potter book. (Confession: I've never actually read the whole thing...I've read the beginning and ending and I've skimmed the middle a couple times, but I've never been able to get through the whole thing. I love most of those books, but for some reason I've never really been a fan of the fourth and seventh ones.) I had forgotten how in love with Snape I am. He has got to be the best constructed Potter character. For that matter, I think he's one of the best constructed characters in modern literature.

I've had a thing for Snape from the first time I encountered him in the Great Hall. (Granted, I'm a Harry-hater, so the fact that he was hurting Harry made me happy.) I think it really boils down to the fact that I just can't figure him out. Is he good? Is he bad? Is he lonely? Why isn't he married? Why in the world doesn't he take of his personal hygeine problems?

Anyways, I love him. That's all there is to it.

Things I Think Are Beautiful

1. Freshly printed essays. I love the smell of paper hot off the copier. I love how clean the paper looks. I love how crisp my words look when they're typed and printed. Honestly, seeing my work in print elates me beyond description, even when it's just an essay for Advanced Composition.
2. Zoey Deschanel's voice. Also her face. Also her hair.
3. The coffee cups sitting on my shelf.
4. Spoken (or sung) French. (Pandora has been good to me lately.)
5. My bed right after I make it in the morning.
6. My roommate's cinnamon colored hair. She doesn't know this, but I've always envied her for it.
7. My novels. I love studying poetry and short stories and essays and biographies all day in my classes, but at night there's nothing quite like coming home to my little collection of novels.
8. My sad attempts at painting and drawing. I'll admit that no one really likes them other than me, but I still think they're pretty in their own right.
9. Everything about Audrey Hepburn. She was just a beautiful person through and through.
10. My mother's eyes.

Playing With Scissors

I really like how I'm doing life right now. I woke up thinking that this morning, and it's kind of been the theme of my thoughts all day.

Almost six months ago GOD showed me some stuff that I needed to cut out of my life: bad habits that seemed too small to be important enough to really get rid of, old wounds and hurts from the past that my bitterness held onto, and places and people that my selfishness just couldn't bear to let go of. (Ha! I just ended a sentence with a preposition and now I feel rebellious!)

I didn't want to let go of any of that stuff. So I didn't. I held onto it all and let it cause a lot of problems.

Holding onto all of those things wore me out. Gradually I just decided that I had had enough. I'm not really sure when, but at some point I pulled out the scissors (metaphorically) and just started cutting away at my life. At first, it was one of the scariest things I've ever tried to do. These things I'd been holding onto had become my entire existence, and I was desperately afraid that once they were gone I wouldn't have anything of myself left.

But I kept cutting anyways.

And then yesterday I woke up and I realized I was done. I had finally managed to purge my life of the things that were holding me back from being happy, from being complete, and from being obedient to GOD. It was a little bit of a saddening realization; some of the things I had cut away weren't bad in and of themselves, but my idolatry of them had made them despicable. They had to go.

This morning when I woke up I felt really and truly and deeply at peace for the first time in a long time.

GOD's Will

"Have you decided what you want to do with your life?"

"You mean, like a job?"

"Yeah."

"Nope. Although I think if I can't get a job after college with an English major, I could just go to cosmetology school and do hair."

"Please don't do that."

"Okay."

I have had this exact conversation with my father five times. He's one of those people who likes to have a plan for everything, so I think it stresses him out that I'm not entirely sure what I want to do after college. I mean, I have quite a few ideas that I think I could make fly, I'm just not ready to nail myself down to one quite yet...I want to keep my options open for as long as possible.

Lately I've been kind of having this "What's GOD's will?" crisis. Well...maybe not a crisis, per se. I guess it's just been more of a series of revelations.

It all started one day when I was being super morbid. I was lying in bed, alternating between staring at the ceiling and praying about what GOD's will for my life was, when I had a weird thought: If I die next week, without ever having a career or a husband or children or a house or all of those other things that I feel like I need to plan for right now, does that mean that I never fulfilled GOD's will for my life? For that matter, if I never manage to attain those things does that mean that my life is worthless?

It was with those thoughts in mind that I came across this phrase: "There is more to this life than what you see everyday."

I found myself with a paradox. If there is more to this life than what I see everyday, then what am I supposed to do with everyday? If life is not about the everyday, little things, then if I die next week I'm afraid that my life will have held little value. I've never accomplished anything big. There isn't really one day that sticks out in my mind as having been much more important than any of the others.

I decided that life is all about everyday stuff, and I think that GOD is all about everyday stuff too. I think that He would much rather I focus my efforts on building Him into my life right now, instead of taking up all my prayers with worries about whether or not I should get married and if I should get married, who I should marry, and what sort of career I should have, and where I should live after school, and whether or not I should have kids, and what sort of school I should send those kids to if I do have them, and whether or not I should go to Europe and whether or not I should...

You get the point.

If my life was all about the big main events, it wouldn't be a life. It would be a movie.

GOD's will for my life is right here, right now. It's GOD's will for me to step out of my comfort zone and spend time with people who are different from me. It's GOD's will for me to go out of my way to find kind things to say and do for others. It's GOD's will for me to give up things that I've been clinging to that are keeping me from loving Him. GOD has surrounded me with little ways to obey Him everyday, and I think that at the end of my life those things will be what mattered the most.

Confession: I'm having trouble holding back my inner mean girl.

I'll be honest...I have a serious spiteful streak in me. And it's the nasty kind of spiteful too...the kind that's sneaky and subtle. I like revenge. I love movies where the bad guy dies at the end. Somehow I've gotten this mentality that vindication is good, no matter what (or who) it costs me.

Right now this aspect of my personality is kind of in full swing. Some of you are probably shaking your heads in disagreement right now because I've managed to convince you that I'm sweet, docile, and fairly cookie cutter. You are wrong.

Deep inside me there is a mean girl trying to claw her way out.

Sometimes she manages to and she ends up manifesting herself in a loud exclamation of "Shut up already!" to one of my classmates who particularly enjoys talking. She also enjoys expressing herself using my very communicative facial expressions. More than one person has recieved a nasty glare this week. When I'm feeling insecure she usually convinces me to ignore (rather than deal with) what's bothering me and just toss my hair and hold my head up higher.

I wish that these reactions weren't almost involuntary for me. I also wish that the mean girl inside my heart was quieter...actually I wish she didn't exist.

If I ever have a daughter...

If I ever have a daughter I will name her Emily Catherine. She will be the Patron Saint of Introverts because her namesakes will be two of the most quiet, reclusive women in literary history: Emily Dickinson and Emily Bronte. Most likely she'll have quite a personality though...she would have to considering her middle name derives from one of Bronte's characters in Wuthering Heights who has quite the temper and attitude.

If I ever have a daughter I will read to her every night, starting with Dr. Seuss's Oh the Places You'll Go. I will show her the wonders of words, from Nancy Drew to Robert Frost, from Kate DiCamillo to Jane Austen, from Winnie the Pooh to Ayn Rand. I will read her things that make her laugh until it hurts her sides, and I will read her things that will make her so sad that we will just sit and cry with each other until we run out of tears.

If I ever have a daughter I will teach her the lost arts of cooking and cleaning. I will teach her to appreciate the value of doing things that require time and effort, rather than relying on quick and easy solutions. I will show her how to wait and work for the things that she wants.

If I ever have a daughter I will teach her to climb trees and jump on beds, to sing loudly regardless of who's listening and to smile when it's raining. I will show her that it's okay not to worry about what people think.

If I ever have a daughter I will teach her about Jesus. I will pray with (and for) her. I will listen to her own sweet prayers and they will seem to hold much more power than my own. She will learn about grace from watching my life. She will see me fall and struggle, and then she will see the LORD forgive me and pour His grace out on me.

If I ever have a daughter I will love her.

So much for being social...

I'm feeling super angsty. I'm not sure if it's because I now have pink in my hair, thus rendering me more susceptible to hipster-like bouts of moodiness, or if it's the result of currently having my butt seriously kicked by a really nasty cold.

The angst is bad enough that I just managed to delete pretty much any form of social networking account that I have (or had, rather). Still have facebook...although that underwent a serious un-friending kamikaze. I also deleted all of my family members from the sidebar...so if you were one of them, sorry. (PS I'm phasing out facebook, so if you want to keep up with my posts you need to subscribe to my blog by e-mail or google reader, whichever one fits your fancy.)

I'm so tired of the noise. I'm so tired of being obsessed with people and places and things on the internet that really don't matter. The problem for me isn't really the internet. It's me. It's me not being content with the people who are sitting right in front of me. It's me not being happy with the place I'm at right now. It's me not allowing myself to relax for more than five seconds at a time because I feel like I need to be worrying about how I'm going to manage to get all of the stuff I want out of life.

I just want quiet - for my eyes, as well as my ears.

Hence all of the deletion.

A Video Depicting Something Slightly Extreme

The Waiting Place

Can I just say that the past few days have been rough on my mascara?

I am not a fan of the things GOD is teaching me right now. At all.

The worst part is that nothing is really going wrong for me...in fact, almost everything is going right! I love my classes (I've made my peace with spiritual formation...quite a bit of good poetry has been born in that class.) I'm living with incredible women. Every need I have has been provided for abundantly. I'm surrounded by people who inspire, convict, and encourage me.

Here is the problem though: I'm stuck in The Waiting Place.

I feel like my entire life's story can be summed up by Oh, the Places You'll Go.

I don't really feel like sharing with the world all of the stuff I'm waiting on, so I'll give you Dr. Seuss's list instead:

The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.

Confession: I'm jealous of myself.

Lately I've been struggling with contentment...again...being content is a really big problem for me, if you haven't figured it out yet.

But it's morphed from where it was here, to this new weird sort of thing where I'm not content with myself or my relationships or where I am in life, because I miss how those things used to be. I want to go back to how things were.

But I can't. Everything has changed. I've changed.

I struggle more with trust now than I ever have. I find myself constantly questioning GOD, myself, and the people around me. When did it start taking effort to actually feel like I actually believe that things that I know to be true?

But not all of the changes have been bad.

I doubt GOD more, but somehow He seems greater. I guess because I feel weaker than I ever have, He seems stronger than He ever has to me. I've also learned that it's okay to move around outside of my little Baptist box (a scary thought for me!).

I see a lot of growth in myself too...not nearly as much as I would like to see, but some progress is better than none. When I was younger I did a science project with plants where I put one next to a window and another in a closet. After letting them grow for a few weeks, I compared the two. The one that had been by the window was beautiful (as far as plants go), and perfect. The plant that had been kept in the dark was a strange shade of green, and contorted in weird ways because it had struggled so much to find light. I kind of feel like the plant kept in the dark, right now...I've grown, but not really in the way I feel I was meant to.

On the flip side of that, that plant had absolutely no choice about where it was placed; it had no control over how much light it got. I put it where I wanted, so that it would serve my purpose, not it's own. I guess that's how GOD is.

Hide and Seek

This poem has been stuck in my head since 2:32 yesterday afternoon. I know, because I looked at the clock. For some reason I've developed an obsession with Kay Ryan, lately.

Hide and Seek
By Kay Ryan

It's hard not
to jump out
instead of
waiting to be
found. It's
hard to be
alone so long
and then hear
someone come
around. It's
like some form
of skin's developed
in the air
that, rather
than have torn,
you tear.

Confession...

So I have a confession...confession is good for the soul and it always makes me feel better...but honestly, I'm more ashamed of this one than usual.

My heart is not right. I really, really hate admitting this.

I hate admitting it because I can't pinpoint the reason that it isn't right. I can't sit and reflect and come up with some solution for making things better. Honestly, I kind of feel like GOD might be letting me stumble around solution-less to force me to go to Him in search of healing. I like DIY's...I want to be able to fix myself...but right now I can't, because I can't even figure out what's wrong.

I've been feeling this way for a week or two now, but last night it came to a head. I had originally figured that if I gave myself time I would be able to figure out what was going on. The problem with that plan wass that I just couldn't seem to find time to reflect on what was going on. Eventually it got to the point where I started giving myself things to do so that I wouldn't have to think about what was going on. I kept myself busy so that I wouldn't have to confront the hardness of my heart.

I think GOD had enough of that last night. As soon as I finished classes, I started to feel awful. I had planned on working on one of my ten million projects last night, but instead I found myself lying in my bed staring at the ceiling for most of the evening and night. I tried really hard to work on other stuff, but eventually I just gave in and laid there.

GOD and I talked a lot. Actually, He talked and I listened. Honestly, I'm still not really sure what's wrong with my heart, but He knows and that's enough. He knows and He's going to fix it and that's more than enough.

It's just been one of those days...

I need some catharsis...so this post is going to be a dumping ground for what all is in my head tonight.

I'm tired. My head has that muddled, fuzzy feeling it gets when it's about to demand sleep. I just woke up from a two hour nap that I'd hoped would alleviate that feeling...but it's still here.

Today I was sitting in one of my classes, when I had this moment of freaking out over being in college. It was the weirdest thing. I mean, I'm a sophomore. You'd think I would have gotten the childish, freaking out thing over with a year ago. Nope. It happened today.

I'm taking a contemporary poetry class this semester. The other night the reading assignment made me cry harder than I can ever remember crying. It shocked me because I didn't relate to the poet at all; I found myself clutching my book and sobbing and I wasn't even able to see myself in his words. I still don't really know what it was about him that made me feel so deeply. It seriously irritated me when today in class a girl ranted about how much his work disgusted her.

I'm reading the book of Romans. It's coming along very slowly. I realized that I tend to read like it's a marathon so I decided to start reading sections instead of chapters.

Well...this isn't doing the trick for me catharsis-wise, so I'm off to wander around or some other such thing...I'll leave you with some other wisdom I picked up from my poetry class:

This Life

By Kay Ryan

It's a pickle, this life.
Even shut down to a trickle
it carries every kind of particle
that causes strife on a grander scale:
to be miniature is to be swallowed
by a miniature whale. Zeno knew
the law that we know: no matter
how carefully diminished, a race
can only be half finished with success;
then comes the endless halving of the rest --
the ribbon's stalled approach, the helpless
red-faced urgings of the coach.