and we still don't know who we are

Untitled

2004-08-14T10:18:00.000-05:00

Every now and then I scroll back through what I've written recently, and get pretty embarrassed.

I hate to see that I've felt things that I'm ashamed of, but I guess I need to realize that recording all of this stuff like this is real--and why, as hard as it is, I refuse to edit posts. Whether what I've written two weeks ago represents what I feel now or not, it IS what I felt at that time--and a lot of times, I guess reading something I've written makes me realize something about it, in retrospect, that I might not have realized otherwise.

I guess I wouldn't be human, if I never felt ashamed for the things I've said. I guess I'm bound to make mistakes in judgment--so is it wrong to pray for greater clarity? Isn't that what we're doing, when we ask God for help. . to interpret our world?

"my heart is/so proud/
my eyes are so/unfocused"

On the posting of crap.

2004-08-14T09:58:00.000-05:00

It's incredibly bad of me to suggest that anyone else has anything to do with my lack of faith.

My faith should come out of me, not out of the friends I have, or the ideas of my family.

Unfortunately religion is a fairly social thing, at least where I live. Maybe I've gotten wrapped up in that. I guess I've tried to learn by example, more than anything else. . . and maybe that's what's confused me so badly.

So, for the idiot posts in which I seem to whine about being left behind, I apologize. I'm ashamed that they may be evidence of my placing the blame for my own faith issues on anyone other than myself.

I'm gonna go read some catechisms. Good grief.

Ergh.

2004-08-14T09:42:00.000-05:00

I think I just realized something that could explain why I have such issues with relative. . piety? religiousness?

I think that from somewhere, in the back of my brain, these things have influenced the way I see religion, and is probably at least partly responsible for the fact that I've never felt completely 'at home' being religious.

How do you feel, when you realize that your family, who's always there for you, always supportive, always offering you a home to come to and someone to talk to, is pretty areligious, and that those you've always been closest to in the religious arena have always somehow left or 'moved on' from you? I'm not saying so to whine, I guess somewhere I feel it to be true.

In any other question I'd side with the family (duh!) but. . .here's where there's a conflict. In this case, it would almost seem selfish to do so. Home and family is comfort, and the fact that there's little religion involved makes it purely for me that I go home, that I enjoy being home and with my family. I hate that! And on the opposite side, becoming more religious carries with it this underlying fear of being cold and separated from people I love.

I know that a lot of changes come from accepting a religious life. However, I feel that it's absolutely absurd to say that I feel I can't visit my family for religious reasons. I guess it's no wonder that I feel kind of roadblocked where ''becoming religious" is concerned. It would seem obvious that this is something I need to figure out, get past. But . . . my God. It need not be one side or another, I've just had a hard time finding the right path between. . .

Concerts and--Cramming?

2004-08-12T21:49:00.000-05:00

My first bagpipe band concert is over! It went really well, I think, and everyone that was there seemed to really enjoy it. It was great, great fun to march in and march out. . and wow. It was so loud, in the auditorium! Heehee.

My student visa finally came, and I'm finally getting really excited about this trip. I guess I'm thankful it's all coming to a head--my really wanting to get out of here, being ready to leave some things behind, and all of the necessary paperwork coming through--all of it has sort of facilitated the anticipation.

I've never gotten to do this before--to literally leave things behind. I've been in the same place since I was born. I know I've talked about it before. I think I'm really going to like it. There's something in me that still doesn't want to leave some things behind, but I can't think of a better way to do it, since everything that's gone on this summer convinces me that I have to. I have a plane ticket, I'm enrolled in this program, I'm going--and even I can't do anything about it at this point.

I'm in the process of trying to learn everything about the theology I've really loved over the past few months. It occured to me (as the result of a previous post, about book studies) that the more I know, and the more I'm confident in knowing before I go, the more I'll be able to weigh cultural and religious differences between the perspectives I've gained here and those of the people living where I'll be a guest for three months. That means a lot to me--it's such a great opportunity, which could be made better, the more I can understand before I go.

I know I can't force this type of thing, and I'd rather not try to stuff my head with ideas that maybe I can't understand yet. As long as I don't go off the deep end, I'll be fine--and better off for it.

So, crash-course in Reformed Theology, anyone?

"Got all the 'poof' knocked out o'me."

2004-08-12T15:34:00.000-05:00

Having a bad day. I'm tired of being here, tired of seeing what I'm used to seeing, hearing what I'm used to hearing. Everything as it is annoys me a little; and this isn't PMS. (Already thought of that--in vain-- apparently I'm depressed for no reason.)

I don't know if I'm sick of the way things are, sick of the fact that they aren't different, or sick of trying to talk myself into thinking everything's fine, or not fine, depending on the time of day. Did I try to change too much too suddenly, or am I not changing enough? I can't figure it out.

I pretty much don't want to talk to anybody, but can't stand being alone. What're you supposed to do when you feel like that? Reading helped, to a point. I'm getting bored easily, and restless. This used to be the kind of time I'd go run my butt off, but a nap sounds better--only, there's so much I need to do that I feel like it'd be a waste.

My first bagpipe band concert is tonight. I think it'll be really fun, and I have a lot of friends/family coming. However, I realized today that it mattered more to me that one person be there than I thought it did-- when I found out they couldn't make it. Give it up, give it up. I've worked a long time for this, and it's been so fun for me--I have too much support elsewhere to let this disappoint me like it is.

As a last note--I really owe a lot to you comment-writers; I've really enjoyed what you've had to say, and your comments have been a huge help. Thanks for reading. . .

Heehee

2004-08-06T22:29:00.000-05:00

So I happened upon this by accident:

The HOBODOGBLOG. ("Another Tree to Sniff and Pee.")

Heehee!

It's like social commentary. . by means of random quotes and graphics. I kinda like it.

La Jesus and Protestant Nuns

2004-08-06T18:47:00.000-05:00

I had dinner with my campus minister again two nights ago. One of the things we talked about was where our campus group was headed this year. I'm going to be gone the first semester, and I'm really sad to miss it. They'll be using a verse from Micah as a theme, and it sounds really interesting.

We talked again about freshmen, which was odd for me, seeing as I was nowhere near a campus group my freshman year. The consensus was not to break out what became the favorite praise-n-worship diddy of the past semester, written by one of our very own, to the tune of "La Bamba" (Yep, think bad. Think "Iiiiii-a-love-a-my-Jesus" bad.) until at LEAST second semester; thought being so as not to scare the poor kids, so far from home. It's really worse than singing 'Amazing Grace' to the tune of 'Gilligan's Island.' No kidding, folks. Overheads have been made. "La Jesus" lives.

We also talked about a book he's considering using for book studies this coming year, called "If Jesus Were A Sophomore." It's what I'd call a 'life-application' book. But that's what started me thinking.

I think I recognize a difference between myself and some people I consider much more religious than I. This may sound overwhelmingly simple, but--I think I try to apply God to my life, increasingly searching for the answers God could provide to the things I face. Which doesn't sound so bad, until I consider that perhaps someone might, instead of applying God to their lives, make God their lives. Is there a difference there, that anyone else is aware of? Am I drawing too thin a line?

Making God my life seems more. . .real! But--of course--it would be harder. Maybe that's the proof.

This is related to something fundamental as to why there aren't Protestant nuns, isn't it?

There is a Point to this, somewhere

2004-08-06T17:52:00.000-05:00

I consider myself pretty unantagonistic. But in my life I've had what I consider an unusually high run-in rate with "People who Were My Closest Friends or Boyfriends Until Things Went Awry and Somehow Religion Was Involved."

In the past, they've been because I wasn't a Christian. In high school, my best friend of 12 years gradually quit talking to me, quit returning phone calls and emails--after she expressed frustration that she had been saved one weekend, and that she knew I couldn't understand. She developed a group of friends that went to bible studies; I was obviously a little uncomfortable with that, which I suppose she understood.

The first boyfriend of high school was great, until the third phone conversation, whereupon he took the "aggressive evangelical" approach, resorting to such measures as, "the church to which your family belongs is a congregation of misguided souls, and since you haven't even been to that church in a decade you're going to hell. I sorely pity you, but in Chrisitan love I will continue to talk to you anyway." Maybe that works for some people, but all it did was make me cry--and make me believe that God wanted me to make judgmental proclamations about and to other people.

The long-term relationship of high school was completely areligious. At this point, I can't see how the heck that lasted as long as it did (nearly 3 years!). At some point during my senior year I decided, for some reason, that I wanted to start going to church. I bought a Bible (same one I use now.) He was Catholic. I was, for lack of anything to think I was, protestant. I don't know that it had to matter. I wanted him to go with me. He wouldn't, and he never invited me to go with him, whenever he happened to go. We never really talked about it, and as easily as I started the venture, I gave up. The relationship ended about a year later for other reasons. (Or perhaps. . that very reason?)

Now for the strange one: the first relationship of my college career that really meant something to me happened my freshman year, and by this point, I might have been toying with the idea (merely toying) with *maybe* calling myself a 'theist.' I was slightly spiritual, but I can't say there was any theology behind it at all. From what he said when he talked about it he was staunchly atheistic. We didn't talk about it much. I would find out later that this was a recent move; that he had spent high school years in church leadership and music--even recording a CD of worship songs. It wasn't until after he'd dumped me, I grew horns, he tried to kill himself, and as a result of this and various downfalls he and I found God separately--me for the first time, him for the second--that we dated again. Now it's failed again; and this time, ironically enough, it's me that's feeling 'not Christian enough' for him. He doesn't need me to talk to; he's got his group of ultra-religious friends.

Please don't misunderstand me--I don't have disdain for his friends, or that he needs them. Quite the contrary! All of this just makes me believe that all of this is somehow God's way of telling me that I'm not as committed as I should be; that I'm ignoring Him when I shouldn't, that I don't think of Him as often or in such a way as I ought. Maybe that's what the jealousy I feel of their commitment is saying. I want to be that steeped in it; I can see that I need more, but part of me wants to scream, "I'm new at this! Help me, please don't push me away!" And that's why it hurts on another level, and that's why if I never do anything else--as strong as I hope my faith should become--I have to pray to God (beg!) that I never, ever, make anyone feel that my faith comes between them and myself; and if they should see something in me that they realize they don't have (God help me) I can only hope that for that reason I won't turn them away.

Happy Fun Apartment Complex Soccer Time

2004-08-06T15:42:00.000-05:00

The other night I decided I wanted to play "soccer" again, which means running around the patch of grass next to our townhouse trying to coordinate my feet. Which means my apartmentmates get a good ab workout. Y'know. Laughing.

So we all ended up out there at about eleven o'clock trying to do stupid stuff and getting the stupid ball stuck under a stupid car about every two minutes, when this eleven-year-old kid from a few apartments over comes out, says his name is "Something I Couldn't Pronounce Then and Can't Remember Now" and plays with us.

Which was cool. Only. . this kid is like, the next Pele. Still cool, but after a few minutes all we could do was go, "Hey--wow," "Cool," "Wow! How'd ya do that?" and "Who-there it went again."

That, and we all, at our average of 21 years, got 'pooped' after, oh, about fifteen minutes. That's sad. Maybe the 24 liters of off-brand "Cola" I alone have consumed in the last month and a half are *partly* to blame.

I really should start running again. I did that back when I was angry and energetic. If you're angry and energetic running's great fun--I dunno how I'd do now. I'd be dragging 24 liters of "Cola" along with me.

19 Days

2004-08-05T21:26:00.000-05:00

PROVIDENTIAL THOUGHT:

"Hey, why don't you leave the country for three months, then see how ya feel?"

ME:

"Okay."

ANONYMOUS AND WHOLLY UNORGANIZED OUT-OF-STATE UNIVERSITY OF WHICH I AM NOT A STUDENT THANK GOD:

"Goody! All you need is a student visa! Leave that to me."

OMINOUS MUSIC:

"Boom, boom boooooom. . . "

(four weeks later)

ANONYMOUS AND WHOLLY UNORGANIZED OUT-OF-STATE UNIVERSITY OF WHICH I AM NOT A STUDENT THANK GOD:

"Student visa? What student visa?"

(two weeks later)

PERSONALLY IRRELEVANT MAILMAN:

"I'm sorry, ma'am, we can't mail you to Italy."

YOU CAN'T RUN AWAY FROM THIS MORAL VOICEOVER:

"You can't run away from this."

ME:

"Crap. Stupid Providential Thought."

PROVIDENTIAL THOUGHT:

"My bad."

Welcome to Earth. Train left the station. . .a few months ago?

2004-08-05T20:41:00.000-05:00

Oh Dear God, help me out of this crap!

I can't stand feeling so humiliated so often--for doing nothing! I'm humiliated because I cannot believe that he doesn't feel the way I do, and whose fault is that but my own? Good grief, open my eyes! He doesn't want to talk to me, he makes no effort to be around me, he's fine and happy without me anywhere near his life. He DOES NOT THINK ABOUT ME the way I THINK ABOUT HIM. He's wrong for me--if nothing else, for the simple fact that he doesn't have any feelings for me. If I could underline that on this thing, I would! Why can't I believe it?

Why can't I see that it's all wrong? Why doesn't the hurt I feel when I realize I'm the one that initiates every conversation--and, furthermore, that in the course of every conversation I'm the one talking and asking questions--ever last more than five minutes? When has he asked me how I was? When has he asked me what's going on in my life? He DOES NOT care. I want to believe that he does, and as a result I get humiliated, over and over again.

Please, I'm not just . . . whining. This affects me more than it should, and I'm ashamed that it does. Do I have no self respect? Is that the issue here? I need to give myself a break, give him a break, and GIVE UP.

There's someone out there for me, God willing. And that someone will think I'm as special as I think they are. They'll love me as I love them. I won't be humiliated by their apathy! A relationship should bring out the best in me, and regardless of whether this one once did, this would be proof that it doesn't anymore, wouldn't it?

I need him to tell me. I need him to sit in front of me, look me in the eye, and say that he doesn't care about me, or that there's someone else.

No. No, I don't. I should know it. I should know. I should know from everything I just listed. That should be enough.

I see what I've written, and I know--I know that I sound like anyone who's ever liked or loved someone that hasn't liked or loved them back. That's what makes it so frustrating. Is that some stupid poetic 'peril' of love? That by virtue of what it is it makes you think your case is special? Because while I recognize that what I'm going through happens to everybody and their brother(s), I still think my case is somehow different--because I've always respected my judgment. I can't stand the fact that I can't seem to see what's right in front of my face.

There's danger in the way I'm choosing to cope with it, when I manage to convince myself, however fleetingly, that I'm an idiot. The way I'm 'coping' is what I did above--tell myself there's someone out there for me that I won't feel humiliated talking to. Therefore, I run the risk of aggressively seeking a replacement--which is sad and depressing business. (Not to mention unfair to any unsuspecting and friendly guy that happens to pass my way.) If it's going to happen, it won't happen that way; I know enough to know it never does.

Then. . how do you tell yourself just to drop it? Cold turkey? You can't replace them. Am I just extraordinarily weak in this department? Do I not have the willpower to turn my thoughts and affections elsewhere? Please, God! I can't see any good coming of my continuing to feel the way I do about him. Give me temperance--give me the strength to see this without the color of my emotions.

Play it again, Sam

2004-08-03T20:15:00.000-05:00

At the moment, Chris Thile's "Big Sam Thompson" is the most beautiful piece of music on the planet.

Heyhey! I might have a future!

2004-08-03T20:03:00.000-05:00

I'm back into working 8 hours a day at the university's library; and after working at my internship the first half of the summer it's been a big change.

The other day my boss's boss, so to speak, came over to me and told me he had something to discuss with me--that he'd been "wanting to discuss for a while." This was a little worrisome. I wasn't sure what to expect--when he says, "You know you're going to library school, right?"

Meaning, get an associate degree in 'information services' (bah! whatever they call it) after I graduate here, and eventually get salaried work in a library. I hadn't ever given it thought--and honestly, it's not what I'd envisioned for myself. Well, that's not exactly fair. I'm not sure what I envision for myself. I like to think I'm flexible. I kind of want to go where life takes me. (Spoken like someone with minimal monthly financial obligations, eh?) However--it's kind of interesting, the more that I think about it.

What meant the most to me was that he thought I was well-suited for something. Groovy! I realized how little I usually feel like I'm 'cut-out' for one thing or another. "I've known this for awhile," he says. "You're one of us."

If you didn't laugh at that, you don't know 'library people.' They're their own breed. Of which I'm apparently either a member or eligible to join. :)

Bedtime for bloggers!

2004-08-02T22:46:00.000-05:00

AARRRRRgigiigh!

Watch out! (Stamp, stamp)
Here it comes! (Grrrrrrrr!)
It's. . it's. . .

the HOPE that WOULD NOT DIE!

Is it hope. . in peace!?

Noooooo!

Is it hope. . in God!?

Nooooo!

Is it futile?

Yeeeeeeeeeesssssss!

Baahhahah! Aririririghgh! *gulp*

There I went. Some big, hairy false hope ate me for lunch.

A little frustrated. . .

2004-08-02T22:29:00.000-05:00

A girl I'm going to Italy with is organizing a Christian book study to do while we're there. Part of me really doesn't like the idea, part of me's okay with it. I'll probably participate, it won't be a bad thing. But--I have this feeling that it's somehow defensive, to take our own little Christian book over there to have our own little Christian book study based on the Christian book studies we've had here in the States, and based on a book written by an American, with a very American view of spirituality in mind. Like we're scared of losing what we (some of us) have grown up doing, reading, and hearing.

Please don't interpret that in the wrong way. There's nothing wrong with the way we do things here. Be reminded that the 'way we do things here' is, in a sense, as foreign to me as 'the way Italians might do it.' I guess I just have a hope that this trip will broaden my views on things, and the thought of putting the 'way-you're-comfortable-doing-it' blinders on, (even for the half an hour a week a book study like this might demand) kind of annoys me. I've been envisioning visiting tiny little churches in Tuscany, sitting out on the wall somewhere and reading some verses--anything that would root the Christian perspective I already have in a different soil.

Res Variae

2004-08-02T22:07:00.000-05:00

Bagpipe band practice tonight went really, really well. I'm starting to see how it all comes together, and we hit the hornpipe in our set so well tonight our drum sargeant stared at us the entire time with his mouth hanging open. It was a great moment!

It's storming again. I'm gonna miss storms like these in Italy. I'm used to loving the way huge oak trees look, soaked with rain--the way most places around here look; the greens intensified by the moisture, and that light-rain-on-asphalt smell. Okay, so I'm not going to lose sleep over it when I'm over there, I'm sure, but. . I'm noticing things about this place I've never been without, which, while a bit silly, isn't a bad thing; I see it as one less thing I'm not taking for granted.

I'm dangerously close to thinking 'men are jerks.' Maybe it was going out to eat and having to sit next to a choice specimen, who seemed extremely proud that he'd dumped his girlfriend for two days, because (and I quote) "You don't appreciate a relationship unless you've been burned. I had to show her, make her appreciate it." It's not a game, dammit! You don't hurt someone intentionally! Sometimes it's more important than that, isn't it? It can mean more than that, right? Yeah. I think so.

Losing God and Four Inches of Hair

2004-08-01T23:13:00.000-05:00

Wow. . .I haven't posted in a long time. I guess that's only half the truth; I've written a half dozen drafts of posts that haven't made it to being published. It's been a pretty confusing week.

The past few days have seen a few changes for me. I've felt the lowest in my relationship with God than I have in a long time; and I realized, however much it depressed me, that I might be beginning to get over something that has been pretty important to me for a long time.

Both of those things together left me pretty empty by the end of the week, and by some mercy a friend was there, just to talk. I've always joked that someone who knew me really well would know when I've been really depressed, because I'll have gotten my hair cut. That sounds stupid, but it's happened to be true. For some reason, I take out aggressions on my hair. Relatively innocuous, eh? At any rate, I got a lot of hair chopped off Saturday.

It was hard to de-tangle the 'feeling low about God' and 'feeling low about a failed relationship,' and that in itself bothered me, a lot. Yep, that big 'something I haven't been able to get over' is, in fact, just a failed relationship. I can read, on the screen, as I've just typed it, how silly that sounds. Way to be a 'girl,' eh?

I think it's taken a lot out of me--but I haven't been angry; it's just this sadness that seems to creep into me whenever and wherever. I can tell myself everything I know I should be telling myself, but it doesn't stop me from feeling that way.

I'm still kinda sad--but I realize after this past week the sadness comes from knowing it didn't work, and probably never could; whereas before, it came from another place.

I'm still chewing. In the meantime, the change in hairstyle isn't all bad?

With You - For the easily entertained

2004-07-27T21:03:00.001-05:00

I've mentioned liking Linkin Park before. I'm back into a phase of listening to them all the time, and today I realized I have a favorite; "With You," off of Hybrid Theory.

The lyrics (click here) I'm not sure I've ever really listened to before. The song was always one I've never gotten sick of, and play two or three times in a row when listening to the CD--but I was sort of singing along with choruses and, now that I think about it, not really understanding what it's about.

Or what I think it means, now that I've paid attention.

Wow, I started this post with the intention of writing what I thought it meant, and now I'm sitting here, unable to put it into words, save for pasting the song lyrics in here. Well! That was the point of writing the song, then, wasn't it?

So. . to anyone who would care to, read the lyrics. Pay attention to the first line about waking up from a dream, and keep that in mind all the way through, to the end--to the lines that took me by surprise and made me think about what it meant:

no/
no matter how far we've come/
i can't wait to see tomorrow/
with you

I don't think it means what it seems to, at first glance. Really, really cool.

Might be a bit confusing

2004-07-26T20:52:00.000-05:00

I messed up again.

Anyone who's read any number of my posts to this blog would probably guess that I was having some issues. Some amount of 'reading between the lines,' I can imagine, and, because I'm never as subtle as I might mean to be, reading what's actually there, I suppose would suggest that.

I'd been doing really well. Maybe today was a test, I dunno. A stumble? Later tonight I got really upset, because I realized how alone I felt on this. No--that's not accurate. I wasn't upset until I realized WHY I felt alone. Not because I can't talk to God about it--I have, and continue to do so. But--because, for all the talking with God, for all the thinking I've done, I can't figure out how I should feel about it. I don't know what's right.

It might seem the logical conclusion to 'talk to someone about it.' But, as my thought process wandered this evening, I know I can't. I can't, because of a few cardinal reasons, but I couldn't talk to anyone... because of a more disturbing one. I think I know what I'd be told. And, if I haven't lost you, you might already have figured that what I know I'd be told is both what my brain tells me, and what my heart stands completely against.

I've felt before, said before, believe that what my heart says is truer than what my brain has to say. But how do you act, when that goes against the advice of friends, family, logic--your own head!

Unfortunately, I know how I act, when this happens--I'm not myself; I'm coldhearted, and from whence my attitude in such sitations comes I don't know. I guess the better question is "What do you do? How to I come to a conclusion? How do I start being myself again? If I knew how I was supposed to feel, I think these issues wouldn't exist!

That starts to sound whiny, I know. "If I just had this, I'd be better off." It's a larger part of my life than it needs to be. Getting 'better' about it involves 'forgetting' about it--and why do I think that's wrong? Why is that just--avoiding the issue?

I'm going to Italy, and I'm terrified that I see my trip as some kind of escape. I want and need to come to terms with this before then--

but with what mindset?

Does any of this even matter?

Weekend!

2004-07-23T10:39:00.000-05:00

I'm leaving this afternoon as soon as I get off of work to drive a few states away and visit/stay with my great-aunt.

She's one of my favorite relatives, and I talked to her on the phone a few days ago--I'd forgotten how great she is to talk to. The rest of the family is coming up too, but they're all (mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, cousins, uncle and whoever else shows up) staying with my grandparents. My great-aunt lives alone, and I'm staying with her.

I've blathered a lot on this blog about the heart, and relationships, and being lonely, and getting married, and blah, blah, blah. . and while these things are things I know I'd love to have--my great-aunt is the antithesis of all that. She's a fantastic lady--traveled around the world for several years, active in the church, many close friends around the globe that she visits often. She never married, and as long as I've known her she's lived alone. In other words, she's how you're supposed to live 'by yourself' but not 'for yourself.'

Anyway, I'm really excited about the trip. It's seeing her, and it's getting away--both of which I think will be a lot of fun.

So. . on to the crazy last day of work, wrapping everything up, packing, buying underwear (who always forgets to wash before a trip? oh, yeah. . me) getting the car ready to go (who always forgets to get the oil changed? oh, yeah. . me again) and heading out---! Family weekend or bust!

Sorry if this smells of "testimony."

2004-07-22T21:54:00.000-05:00

When I say Jars of Clay had something to do with my wanting to become a Christian, don't roll your eyes. I listened to their self-titled CD over and over again before I believed without a doubt that there was a God. This may sound dippy, but these (the excerpt below) are some of the first lyrics I heard, and knew they spoke of something I didn't understand. It doesn't take a genius, I know. But--whatever strikes you that way, when it needs to (or, in my opinion, several years late) will always stay with you. I actually wrote part of this on a post-it note, really confused about what it meant. It stayed stuck to the wall beside my bed (hidden from anyone else's view) and then wound up on my desk at school (maybe because I could see it there more often?) I couldn't explain the feeling behind it, and I couldn't come to terms with how someone could say what it said and mean it. It was the first I knew of what it was like to live a life other than my own(?) and the concept was alien to me. I dug out that CD again today, and realized it still affects me--only now I begin (just begin!) to understand, and the funny thing is, that now--i love it even more.

all said and done I stand alone/
amongst remains of a life I should not own/
it takes all i am to believe/
in the mercy that covers me/
. . .
more and more i need you now/
i owe you more each passing hour/
battle between grace and pride/
give up not so long ago/
so steal my heart and take the pain/
wash the feet and cleanse my pride/
take the selfish, take the weak/
and all the things i cannot hide/
take the beauty, take my tears/
this sin-soaked heart and make it yours/
take my world apart

Must. . . post. . .interesting stuff . . .

2004-07-22T12:38:00.000-05:00

I just read this at lunch this afternoon; I think it has a lot to do with something I was talking about before.

From John Knox's discussion on the assumed conflict between faith and reason:

"How can one hear what are sometimes called, not too exactly, the truth of the mind and the truth of the heart and find them both one? It is a major thesis of these chapters that this can happen only as we recognize that each speaks a different language; and that though each language can be understood, neither can be exhaustively translated into the other."

I got excited about that. He goes on to explore the differences between truth and fact, and how we receive each differently; basically, that 'truth' for our hearts and 'truth' for our brains are at once what we're looking for, what we don't trust, and what we wll always view as separate, for lack of a better way to understand.

It's true, isn't it? I still find myself listening to one over the other, even knowing that by doing so I'm putting on the metaphorical blinders. Hmm. .

What do ya do when you're waiting on a computer?

2004-07-22T07:10:00.000-05:00

Roll over to another one, pop in the Jars of Clay CD and post to your blog, apparently.

Just for grins: I am now the proud custodian of a 15" Premier concert tenor drum. It's really odd to see it sitting in the corner of my room. It's a pretty large presence, with its case and march harness and all. It's like I have a roommate. I actually said goodnight to it last night. Is that sad?

I'm getting really excited about the concert. We're practicing in the parking lot of the Irish pub tonight. Which is good, y'know, 'cause do I know how to march? Ummmm . . no.

Well...my other computer's awake now, so it's time to go--and in case anyone was interested, the newest Jars of Clay CD is pretty darn good.

still i'm not so sure i know/
man, the trouble is/
we don't know who we are instead

And the moral is: "that guy you've never talked to could be a good friend."

2004-07-20T22:02:00.000-05:00

I had a friend come in from out of town tonight to visit--and it was a lot of fun. If that sounds stupid, I can explain--

He and I were in a class together all of the last term this past school year, but actually never spoke. He was about to graduate, it was a pretty tough class, etc., etc.

Then, having never actually spoken to him at all, he emails me the week before graduation and says he'd like to take me out to eat. It didn't work out then, but he was back in town the weekend afterward for a wedding and we went to lunch. It was great talking with him--despite being odd, given the circumstances. I'm really glad he took that initiative. He's turned out to be (nearly instantly) a close friend, and has been fun to talk to ever since.

Anyway, the surprise element of this evening was realizing that this is the second time I've seen him outside of school, as well as the second time we've ever talked in person--and to think that and know how comfortable I felt, it was pretty cool.

I guess the point of this is to say, "Thank God for small favors." This one being, to have come about a good friend in so random a way.

When is it allright to use "fellowship" in the place of "friendship?" Now seems like a good time. . .and I guess if it seems good, in this case, it is.

Banging Head Against Wall

2004-07-20T16:18:00.000-05:00

Nostalgia isn't bad, all the time. Except when you're desperately trying to move forward with yourself.

Has anybody come up with a list of 'nostalgia-triggers?' Smells? Songs? Songs! Arrrrgh! I just listened to a song that I used to listen to at least three times a night last February. All of a sudden that seemed like the best time of my life, and I got all wanting-to-feel-like-I-did-then.

It wasn't the best time of my life. In fact, probably the opposite. (I mean, if that's the worst I ever go through, I'll be happy, but relatively, eh.) Then again--do you know what the best time of your life is?! Bah.

All I'm seeing when I get these sentimental glimpses of it is the good. I was really focused on being a Christian. I was kind of a loner--but there was a sort of peace with that. The reason I heard that song that many times a night was because it was on the only CD I ever remembered to take with me to the sculpture studio.

What I didn't remember just now is---wow. A lot. Ooookay.

So I guess what I'm getting at, is that--no 'time of my life' is ever any better or worse than the next, isn't it? There will always be something good about it, and there will always be something kinda crappy about it. Even if. . what's 'crappy' this month was nothing last month, because there was something crappier. Does that make sense?

Not to sound like a pessimist. I could have used the 'good' stuff as the example just as easily. I just think it's sort of a truth.

It was amusing to feel nostalgic like I did for a time that I really hadn't thought I'd ever be nostalgic for.

Anyway. That was random.

Hey--who's the idiot skipping around the courtyard?

2004-07-20T09:41:00.000-05:00

I've been staring at a computer screen for three hours straight, (without blinking, apparently, as suggested by the way my contacts are crawling around the sides of my eyeballs) and my idea of "taking a break" is rolling over to another computer to post to my blog.

Not to worry. In a moment I plan to run outside, where, in an attempt to shake the flourescent-light-and-monitor-funk, I shall skip in a circle, look directly at the sun, and pick a flower or two.

I'm authoring Flash movies--which will become intros to videos and DVDs used by the history department here at school. I'm really excited to be doing it--for years I was hell-bent on becoming an animator. I found out yesterday that Flash is actually used to animate many of the cartoons seen on Cartoon Network. That was a huge surprise. It's great learning how to use it--every time I figure out how to do something special I get pretty excited. I'm slowly (read: slowly) getting used to using it, but at the moment the going is pretty tedious. Hence the 'forgetting to blink' and 'three hours in one position.'

Ah, well! That's the work update for today. I'm off to burn my retinas.

Tired, all of a sudden

2004-07-19T12:10:00.000-05:00

So two of my 'bosses' have cornered me today, separately, saying, "Are you ok?" or "Everything ok?" and "You sure?" and "You look distraught."

That's embarrassing. And I'm fine. I've been fine.

It's frustrating. If everybody's asking me if I'm ok, I'm not exactly being the cheerful servant I'm supposed to be, am I? Arrrgh.

I'm fine!!

Tubing and Churchgoing

2004-07-18T15:03:00.000-05:00

I went tubing down a river yesterday. It took nearly five hours to get down, and, well. . .I'm a wee bit sore. The water was low. It was an upper-body workout to get over all the "rapids," or . . . "things that are called 'rapids' when the water level's higher, but right now resemble rock beds."

A warning: I'm about to rant some things about going to church.

I love to go to church. I know someday I'll experience that thing that everybody talks about, where you have to make yourself go. . .but honestly, that hasn't happened yet. I should hope it never does. I feel like it shouldn't.

So it's not for lack of desire that I'm nervous right now. I fell in love with a church that none of my close friends attend; i.e., I don't have anyone to go with. (Whatever, it's not a social hour.) Still, while I'm new at the church, I don't know anyone there either. Maybe it's where I live, maybe it's bigger than that--I still feel like people think it's odd that I'm there by myself, which is what I've been for a while now. Eh. Maybe it's just me. I got over going by myself in the morning--for the most part--but I still do stupid stuff, like sit in the back row and leave as soon as the congregation's dismissed.

Anyway, I'm writing this as I'm contemplating going to an evening service in a few hours. I really, really want to go. There's so much I want/need to learn/hear, and I can't think of a better way to spend the free time I have this evening. But. . it's a smaller service than the morning ones, and more community-oriented. I think I'm actually scared.

What does that say about me? What am I thinking, when I go in the morning and hide? Something tells me it has something to do with feeling conspicuous. Not that I think everybody's looking at me--it's more that--(if this makes sense) it hasn't been too long ago that I scoffed at people walking around carrying bibles in plain view. This past year, I went so far as to hide mine in the chair next to me at breakfast in the school cafeteria Sunday mornings, because I was afraid for it to be 'on display' in some snotty self-righteous way.

I realize now that at the heart of my dislike for things like that was the feeling that I was excluded. I'm not afraid to say what I believe, but now I hate doing anything that might make someone feel excluded--make them feel like I felt before.

All that said, I'm feeling stupid for not wanting to go tonight. Of course I'll go. It's being self-conscious that's keeping me, and that's no reason not to. If there's any place I shouldn't think of what I look like, or what people think of me, it's church--and whether that's true of my church or not (I would hope that it is), it's what I'm going to go by.

To Be Contined. . . (when I've gotten some sleep)

2004-07-16T23:21:00.000-05:00

All the scriptural imagery [used to describe heaven] is, of course, a merely symbolical attempt to express the inexpressible. Musical instruments are mentioned because for many people (not all) music is the thing known in the present life which most strongly suggests ecstasy and infinity.
-C.S. Lewis, "Hope," Mere Christianity

I'm writing this post with the idea of talking about what music is to me. The best way I know how to start is with the above quote--which discusses something I've come to believe in a huge way.

If I could count the times that music has reached me, when nothing else could--! Whether it's instrumental or has lyrics, its effect can be the same. A song can make my day, change my mood--it's amazing how something we're used to hearing, put to music as lyrics, can mean so much more.

I'm in awe of it, (I know that sounds silly, bear with me) because I don't understand it. I understand the technicalities of theory, notation and the like--but go deeper! The fact that we absorb these sounds through a complex internal organ and somehow, in our brains, the result is sometimes so beautiful as to bring tears to our eyes or give us goosebumps. How does the world relate to rhythm, pitch, and tone? Is no one else this amazed?

Music has been a huge part of my life, whether I've realized it or not. I started taking piano lessons really early--even when I quit to do more dancing I wasn't far--any dance I did was (as might be expected) married to a piece of music. I played the cello (still my favorite instrument) in middle school and into the 9th grade; I then developed a thing for musicals and was in a few of them in high school, while, at the same time, a member of a concert choir for three years. My freshman year in college I decided to take up the guitar, which has been one of the greatest joys I've had since; I also bought the cheapest violin I could find off of the internet on which I am attempting to teach myself to play, and I joined the bagpipe band at the beginning of the summer.

What all that's trying to say is that I don't just listen to music--I absolutely love to make it. If I'm amazed by the ability we as beings have to perceive of a universal tone and pitch, I'm astounded by the process and act of writing and performing music. I love to play along with people--and dream a lot of being part of a band, of playing or singing various instruments with other guitarists, cellists, violinists, and drummers.

Leavin', on a jet plane/Don't know when I'll be back again

2004-07-14T16:25:00.000-05:00

The summer seems to be winding up. . and it's only still the first half of July. I have one more weekend here, then the last week of my internship. The weekend after that, I'm outta here for the whole weekend. (Which is gonna be niiiice. Just like two months on the other side of the ocean is going to be niiiice.) Then I'm working at my old job for the next four weeks. . during which time I'll be packing up all my stuff that's here in the apartment and ferrying it home. I'll have a weekend to get all that put away, and pack two gigantic suitcases.

The next Monday I'll be on a plane, by that afternoon I'll be on another continent.

I'll miss. . . homecoming (whoo.), football season (slightly less 'whoo.'), convocation (whooee.), Halloween (eh.). . what else? I'll be back two days before Thanksgiving.

I think it might be good to be gone for awhile.

I Brake for Great Bumperstickers

2004-07-13T20:28:00.000-05:00

I had dinner with our campus minister tonight. It was great just to talk--about nothing in particular. Just 'how are you,' and 'what have you been up to.' We talked about what the campus group's going to do next year, and especially about being there for freshmen. It was odd. I didn't have much to relate to there. God wasn't a part of my life freshman year. Or rather, He was. I just didn't realize He was who I talked to whenever I was scared out of my mind, or up against something I couldn't handle. At any rate, I wasn't going to any meetings.

So on the way back from his house tonight, I was behind a truck with a bumpersticker that said, (ahemahem):

"SOME CHOICES ARE WRONG."

I mean. . . well, yeah. Okay. Yep. I know it was "most likely" an anti-pro-choice statement, but I kinda like it taken generally. I mean. . true, right?

But is it?

I call myself a Presbyterian, and for all the Calvin I'm supposed to ascribe to, I can't explain God's will as opposed to free will, predestined or not. Could God not use any choice we make, any path we choose, as His means? But that gets into whether, when given a choice, there's one way we're supposed to choose, that has God's blessing. Which would seem to make sense, in the case of moral dilemma--but others? Not so sure.

Hmmm.

So is this privately public? Publicly private?

2004-07-13T15:57:00.000-05:00

I've been giving a lot of thought as to why I spend as much time as I do writing lengthy posts to a blog.

It's sort of a one-sided conversation, isn't it? I mean, that's why it's so fun to get comments--because it's feedback, it's response to what you've had to say.

I think somehow I feel the need to type out the inner dialogue; the stuff I don't talk to people about, because I don't think they'd want to hear, or don't think they'd have anything to say. In a way that's debilitating. It's sort of saying what I think doesn't mean much. However, at the same time, the fact that I've posted it to a blog means I think it's worth something, when other people wouldn't, which could be a little egocentric.

Then again, what's a journal?

Only. . .nobody reads a journal but its author, unless you're famous and you die, or you're wanted by some sort of government agency. For the most part, all your inklings are likely to remain unseen.

Then, I must be doing this for another reason. I want someone to read it. I must want someone to read the stupid things that go through my head hour by hour, and moreover, I must want them to be interested by them.

Eeep. How's that for being honest?

Happy Song

2004-07-13T12:21:00.000-05:00

I have a new theme song.

"I Saw," Matt Nathanson.

It comes on every 15 minutes on iTunes' MakRadio.
Haven't gotten sick of it yet.

This was important enough to write a post about while I'm still at work. Just, y'know, so ya know.

Waking or Sleeping . . .

2004-07-12T22:11:00.000-05:00

A few posts back I talked about a dream I had, where I got married. The next night I dreamt I had a child. I'm gonna talk about it here, and then. . hopefully, quit thinking about it.

All I remember is holding a toddler that I knew was mine, could see was mine, felt was mine--and loved almost tangibly. It was a boy, and I can still see what he looked like. Then there were flashes of. . I guess it was 'life with child,'--I remember seeing his father playing with him, holding him, handing him to his father, sitting on the floor with him. His father was the guy I married the night before. It was wonderful--and again. . so vivid, that when I woke up I was actually really depressed to realize it wasn't real.

What's so hard to get over about these dreams is how I felt. I'm not one to . . live in a dream world. . but this was one I'd take. It's left me feeling kind of hollow, when I remember it. I saw my own child, laughing and swinging from his father's arms.

I can't play these things over and over in my head like this. And thus. . there it is. I probably won't forget it, but I can't think it could happen.

I can hope/pray it's like that, if and when my life comes to those points. And if it's not too selfish, I can hope I feel like that someday. (Faith!) It'd be more than I could ask for.

Moving on, now.

TIWF

Cheesin' and Squeezin'

2004-07-12T22:02:00.000-05:00

Bagpipe band practice was fantastic tonight. It's so much fun. We're starting to practice with the pipers. . when it comes together, it's amazing how cool it is. It's neat--when you know you've got it, you get into it. .we went through our quick march set tonight, and when we were done, one of my fellow drummers looks at me and says to the rest, "We're gonna have to work on her, she's gonna be smiling like that through the whole set."

(Soapbox moment: pipe bands are a lot like Irish dancers, if you've ever seen them: it's considered poor 'form' to look like you're, you know, enjoying yourself. No offense, ye of old, but that's. . . stupid.)

We're working out our drum salute Wednesday night. It's gonna be amazing--we're doing a drums-only take on 'Mission Impossible.' Aaaaaha!

Not right, not fine/Wanna be rain, tastes like wine

2004-07-12T21:01:00.000-05:00

It poured today for a good two and a half hours straight.

And of course, I had to walk halfway across campus to the parking lot just as the bottom dropped out.
All there is to say is that I was in a crappy mood before that happened. It made my day, and I'm not being sarcastic. I should talk to my favorite psychologist in Canada about this. (My roommate of last year, who is traipsing around the northwest with the love of her life.) What about me means I like standing in rain?

"Aquarius! Leettt the sun shine in. . ."

Celebrating the inner 7-year-old

2004-07-11T19:36:00.000-05:00

I've spent the last few hours sliding down the stairs in a sleeping bag (a few more times than you'd think would still be fun) and building a fort in our living room.

Funny thing is, I haven't just snapped--I wasn't alone on this. At about four-thirty this afternoon, one could have seen three 20-year-old girls lounging on sofa cushions under sheets stapled together over the backs of chairs, watching Harry Potter.

And thus I stumble upon one of life's truths: find roommates that can willingly regress about 13 years.

Honestly, if you live anywhere near a carpeted flight of stairs, find a sleeping bag (those ripstop nylon ones work best--it's all about speed) and take a few trips down. Whatever's wrong with you, you'll feel better. And if for some reason you don't, let me know--I've got some handy fort-building tips.

Came across a hymn this morning:

2004-07-11T12:42:00.000-05:00

“Give me a calm, a thankful heart
From every murmur free
The blessings of Thy grace impart
And let me live to Thee

Let the sweet hope that Thou art mine
My path of life attend
Thy presence through my journey shine
And bless its happy end”

--Anne Steele, (an amazing woman) 1716-1778

Thank goodness my roommate's boyfriend practically lives here

2004-07-10T14:23:00.000-05:00

I think I got followed to my apartment yesterday afternoon.

Potential follower was actually in front of me almost the entire way--what started to scare me was that they'd wait until I put on my blinkers to put on theirs. I could see them looking in the rear-view mirror. Finally, at the last turn onto the street of my complex, I waited until the last moment to turn, they were ahead of me as I did--they couldn't have gotten into the turn lane.

When I looked back, they had slammed on the brakes and turned after me--turning from the right-hand lane. I saw him watching me as he passed the complex; he didn't follow me in.

My knees were shaking when I got out of the car. Am I paranoid? I don't know where they live, maybe this is the route they normally take. Did I somehow prevent him from getting in the turn lane when he was going to anyway? I didn't think so at the time. But it's hard to remember, looking back.

I knew who it was, and it's someone I'd rather not know where I lived. Not that I'm scared he'll show up here. I'm safe, but creepiness can still be. . creepy.

Climb ev'ry mountain!

2004-07-10T14:07:00.000-05:00

I drove to the top of a mountain today. :)

I wanted to drive, so I drove as far as one tick-mark on my gas gauge would get me, and that was the top of a mountain. So I parked, and walked over this bridge. . .to an overlook that blew me away.

You could see for miles. I can say all the cliche'd stuff about 'everything looking so small,' and realzing the relative significance of things, which (of course) happened, but what I loved best about it was that all I could see was green. The occasional cleared field interrupted the rolling waves of broccoli, but all in all--it was beautiful. Pure-looking, somehow. Undisturbed. I knew that under the canopies were highways and strip malls, but for a while there it felt like looking down on a valley the same way someone could have thousands of years ago.

(Never mind that I got there in a car, and arrived at that spot over a man-made, very industrially-forged bridge.)

That's why I'm gonna go nuts in Italy. I have this thing, about history--for it to really get me I have to personify it. So, walking on a road paved by Romans, where every stone was once lifted and set into place by a pair of legionary hands--or touching the remains of an Etruscan wall--it'll get to me. It's something I can't concieve of here--where anything I touch is less than 300 years old.

Ears wide shut

2004-07-10T07:30:00.000-05:00

How come most people don't realize (myself included) that the reason our best love songs can also speak of God is that--the way we love is a reflection of the way God loves us? That the problems we face in relationships often mirror the problems we face in a relationship with God?

That's simple. Maybe everybody else got smacked in the head with that a long time ago.

Whoa.

So Alanis might not call God "baby," but. . .

2004-07-10T07:15:00.000-05:00

"I blame everyone else, not my own partaking
My passive agressiveness can be devastating
I'm terrified and mistrusting
And you've never met anyone who's closed down as I am sometimes

You see everything
You see every part
You see all my light
And you love my dark
You dig everything
Of which I'm ashamed
There's not anything to which you can't relate
And you're still here

What I resist, persists, and speaks louder than I know
What I resist, you love, no matter how low or high I go"

"Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus."

2004-07-09T23:27:00.000-05:00

In the end, would you rather be ruled by your heart or by your head?

Have you ever done something completely against all reason? Have you ever felt like what your head is telling you to do is a complete opposite of what your heart's telling you to do?

I'm pretty sure I'm more heart than head--not only because I've done a lot of things I couldn't come up with a rational reason for, but because somehow I've got this conception that my heart's what's real about me, and everything I do against it is the result of the fact that my ability to reason is somehow fundamentally corrupt. Almost like, "heart is God, brain is sin."

I know it's gotten me into trouble. I know it will continue to get me in trouble. But the thing about it is--your heart may break, but it's your head that makes you prideful, vengeful, or discompassionate toward whatever may have caused it. It's your brain that tells you it's 'not fair,' or 'so-and-so can't do this to me.' I'm theorizing that the heart could break a thousand times in a day without any of those things.

That said, I'm wondering--does that mean that the heart can't really break? Maybe the idea that it is or has is all in our heads, and is part of what keeps us from loving as unconditionally as we might otherwise be able.

I know your heart can hurt. I know you can actually feel hollowness in your chest--as cheesy as it sounds, I know your heart can 'ache.' I asked a friend if she could think of a reason why; she said, "maybe that's when you should listen to it the most."

Update

2004-07-09T23:02:00.000-05:00

I finally found out what "potential health hazard" had to do with my office.

A secretary a few offices down the hall is in the hospital with what looks like legionnaire's disease, and it would appear there's enough reason to suspect the building I work in is somehow responsible to keep everyone out of it until Monday.

So. . my building is a quarantine?

It sounds like a bit of a paranoid measure to me, but I freely admit I don't know what there is to know about it. She's really sick--and apparently not getting any better. It's a nasty disease, I know. I hope she starts to get better soon.

Something good may come of it--they may speed up the renovation process. Half the building is currently under construction, while the other half remains--dusty, humid, dimly lit, and now, apparently harboring some kind of fungus.

(It might calm some of you to know that the stack of books was safely removed thursday afternoon. Unless I lick the pages, I shouldn't have to worry. And I don't mean 'about contracting a disease.' If I'm licking book pages I might have more serious problems.)

We were able to dash in this morning and yank the firewire drive on which my work resides out of the computer for use in a lab elsewhere. I still got stuff done; and shoot! Morale is up with change of venue. :)

Holding my breath

2004-07-09T07:45:00.000-05:00

So I went into work today, and. . the building I in which I work is locked, with large flourescent signs forbidding anyone to enter.

I go on to find out it's due to a 'potential health hazard.'

So have I been working amongst potential health hazards all week, or did they just find this out this morning? Cough, cough.

So, err... interesting. All my work resides in that office. I wonder just how serious this is?

Do I have to tattoo it on my face?

2004-07-08T16:15:00.000-05:00

Okay, so the grayish cloud of, "your ideas on religion are really, really self-centered, and you're only seeing about one-sixteenth of the picture you should be able to see" just parked over my head.

I struggle with this selfishness thing.

The mercy of God--that which gives us guilt--is also our greatest joy.

We tend to forget that, don't we?

Did I just. .

2004-07-08T16:08:00.000-05:00

Pray on a blog?

I think I did.

Asking God to fill in the gaps

2004-07-08T15:20:00.000-05:00

I had an opportunity, and I couldn't say what I meant to say? This isn't another treatise on my shortcomings. I know I said what I was able to.

But God, I wish I had been able to say so much more.
I needed to say that I loved him, without expecting anything in return. I needed to say that I couldn't know he hurt without having him know that I cared and was thinking about him. I needed to say so without self-righteousness, without pettiness; because it's so much more important than that.

God, today, more than ever, have him know what I meant, for whatever it's worth to him, (maybe nothing, maybe something.) If I'm someone that he wouldn't care to have worry about him, please, please have him look past any discomfort my talking to him may have caused.

I can't help but care, God, though I've tried to talk myself out of caring I know that's not me, and that's not how I could ever feel. If knowing I cared like this would scare him, or remind him of someone else's obsession, let him not think of it--and consequentially, lead me not to remind him.

Show me how to be the friend he would need if I can somehow provide something someone else can't, and keep me from entertaining the thought of being anything more than he could need of me; because if I think of this, I'm thinking of myself, and not for his sake.

For these things, I pray, Lord. Please use what I've done and what I've said, in his heart, to whatever and any use that would do him well! in Christ's name, amen

Huh?

2004-07-08T15:07:00.000-05:00

Ever feel like you're acting, playing a part, in whatever you do? Like you're acting surprised, you're acting hurt, you're 'being' something, that deep deep inside, you're really not? I usually feel this way--like the emotion's there, on the surface (it might go pretty deep) but the sanity--the real, rational, you--is still calling the shots.

Except yesterday. I don't think I've been so completely run by an emotion--! And I only just realized it when I took my computer out of its case to write this. I was completely 'gone' from 3:30 that afternoon through when I left work at 4. I had a meeting with the faculty advisor in charge of my work at 3:30, then I packed up and left. I unplugged my computer and left the cord there. I also left a stack of books he'd given me, that I'd been reading through. (You're thinking, "So? You forgot stuff, everybody does that once in awhile.") Problem is, I don't remember any of that time. I'm really a little worried about what I said to my advisor. Did I just nod at everything? Did he notice that, while I was nodding at *whatever I nodded at* I unplugged my computer, and left the cord?

I remember getting into the car, but not much after that. (Don't try this at home.) I vaguely remember parking in front of my apartment. . apparently somewhere in there I went in, got a big stack of library books from my room, and put them in my car, before driving around the block and coming back. I don't know why I got a stack of books, I'm not through with them, I had no intention of returning them to the library.

I guess there's not much point to this, other than to say. . way to realize you don't usually feel the way you think you do. Because--when it's real, you do things like drive around the block with a random stack of books in the back seat.

Final thought of the night. . .

2004-07-06T19:57:00.000-05:00

My original question somewhere back there, was whether or not I could be conservative religiously and liberal politically.

I guess I am, whether I think I can be or not.

I can know what I believe to be right or wrong. I know what I would have others do or not do. But I still can't justify making them do so.

I won't have an abortion. I don't think we were built to be homosexual. (Though my views on that are those of a biologist.) But I myself, as a sinful being, cannot tell someone else of a different faith, of a different culture that they can't have, or be, what they want. Simply--I have no right. It would be a judgement to do so, would it not? I can pray. I can help someone I have personal access to, if they would accept or ask for my help. I can try to be who I know I should be, and in the process hope to speak to others. (Which has just smacked me as a huge responsibility in itself, as it does every time I think about it.)

So how come churches are nothing short of required to announce a position on political proceedings? Why is a presidential hopeful's religious beliefs necessarily 'at odds' with the way he voted?

Thank God we can--however occasionally--recognize right from wrong, in whatever capacity we have to think we're doing so. Miracles, every day.

TIWF ~ Goodnight

Why I should Stay Away from. . (Part 2)

2004-07-06T19:43:00.000-05:00

I said before that if there can't be a true Christian nation then one couldn't exist among non-Christian nations.

That doesn't make any sense. Apologies. (Of course, if I'm about to start apologizing for everything in this blog that doesn't make sense, I'd need a whole 'nother post.)

To better illustrate what I'm thinking.. if there were a true Christian nation, it might exist among non-Christian nations. . but not for long. Forgiveness, nonviolence, unconditional love, and suffering in a leading nation? At the first "turning of the other cheek," they'd be obliterated (for natural resources, most likely. That is, if they have any left, after so generously donating them to other nations.)

To crack open can-o-worms no. 487,
Is it 'Christian' to kill? As a soldier?

Obey orders/Crusades?/Stand up for a cause/Protect family/Respect authority?/Thou shalt not!/'God is on our side?' Aerrigh.

Why I Should Stay Away from Theology (Part 1)

2004-07-06T19:39:00.000-05:00

Saying there can't be a true Christian nation seems pessimistic.

But for me, saying there can be is like saying any individual is able to be a perfect Christian. Of course, by 'Christian,' here, I'm seeming to imply "perfect," or "sinless."

But we've all heard it, right? "Good Christian." "Bad Christian."

So really. . . shouldn't any Christian be as 'good' or 'bad' as the next?

(Sorry if that came as a surprise. I skipped typing a few steps on the thought process. Instance of the typing-too-slow-for-the-brain-activity problem.)

Is there such a thing as a PCA Democrat?

2004-07-06T19:31:00.000-05:00

Can I be reformed and politically liberal?

I used to think so, then I read Francis Schaeffer's 'Christian Manifesto.' So. . I had a few problems with it. Seems like I've done a lot of talking (more like a lot of listening) in debates about religion and politics, theology and government, etc., etc.
And for all of it, I'm still not so sure where I stand.

C.S. Lewis talks a lot about the "way things should be." I think, how I define my stance, is the same way--I understand the way things should be, even if I can't concieve of it. I understand, that were the United States a 'Christian nation,' in the true sense of the term, there wouldn't be an issue, let alone the need for politics.

However, there are two questions here--the first being, "Can there be a true Christian nation," and second, "If there were, could it remain so among non-Christian nations." I believe the answer to the first is No, which would make the second negative as well?

I like Victor Hugo. Really, I do.

2004-07-06T19:25:00.000-05:00

I've been giving serious though to becoming a meteorologist.

We've had three thunderstorms a day for the last month.

Have I already said I love thunderstorms?

There was a doozie a few weeks ago, and I was in the library at school. . there's this huge sweeping arc of a window that's two stories high, and I was on the second floor, sitting on the carpet between two shelves of books looking through some stuff. . .I swear. Erp. This is sounding silly, I know, but man.

...And I hated Victor Hugo for rambling in every concievable direction. :)

Where's Carl Jung when you need 'im?

2004-07-06T17:13:00.000-05:00

So something tells me this probably won't be the first blog post anybody's written about a weird dream. Seems like blog material if there ever was, doesn't it?

To make a long story short, some part of my random-access memory tells me I got married last night. It was one of those incredibly vivid, highly emotional dreams that you wake up from thinking whatever happened really happened.

Yeah, never thought I'd wake up, look around, and think, "Holy cow, I'm not married."

So I got proposed to. . .then there was a ceremony. . .(all the stuff in between? who knows) and then. . I was at church with the hubby. Bam. Like that.

This is all exposition. I'm building up to something, bear with me.

I've spent the last two years of college bristling against anything and all things 'matrimony.' Just because--I go to a small school where every attitude, shoot, every public address seems centered on marriage. Y'know the cliches, the "MRS" degree, blah, blah, blah. So from trying to balance myself between femi-nazi hatred of the system and the sorority candle-lighters, I wasn't sure how I really felt.

So it takes a wierd dream to tell me I really, really want/miss that kind of relationship--where that kind of thing seems like a possibility. If it means anything, it was one happy dream.

There was disappointment at 6:45 this morning, trust me.

Keep 'em coming. . .

2004-07-04T12:37:00.000-05:00

these lines on the road.

I'm fighting the temptation to go back and delete some posts.

I won't. I shouldn't be ashamed of the thought process. I can just be all the more thankful that's not where I am anymore.

It's a beautiful day. I'm resuscitating Wendell. He was in dire need of his biannual watering--but seems to be ok now. He looks to be enjoying the porch.

Off I go.

Music to learn. Cupcakes to make.

Whatever

2004-07-03T21:21:00.000-05:00

So I actually put a link to this on my first class webpage.

So technically somebody else could read all these ramblings at some point.

Like, who? Whoever actually goes through and checks to see if anybody has a first class webpage. Then happens to want to click on the "Blog" link, (which can't be all that exciting a prospect, who doesn't have one, or hasn't at least started one?) and actually be motivated enough by that point to scroll through a month and a half of really long, really random musings. In which case, whoever you are reading this, kudos to you. Leave some comments, you've apparently got a lot of extra time on your hands. ;o)

A little scared.

2004-07-03T21:15:00.000-05:00

Close-range fireworks out the back door.

Happy fourth of July. Just don't burn down my apartment.

Hey, so I think it's kinda funny I titled this blog "and we still don't know who we are" before I wrote a single post, (hoo-ray caedmon's call lyrics) and then i ended up writing about knowing 'who i am" a month later.

Heh, heh. Heh.

Drumming away

2004-07-03T21:13:00.000-05:00

I'm gonna have beastly forearms by August.

Just wait.

I don't get it, and neither does my roommate

2004-07-03T20:58:00.000-05:00

I've joked before about calling God up and asking questions. I think I've got another one to add to the list. This one seems pretty stupid in comparision to what I could be asking ("Why is there evil in the world?" "Is George W. Bush involved in a Saudi conspiracy?") But then again :-) is 'any question a dumb question?'

It frustrates me so much. . why do we as humans seek the love and companionship of our own with such determination? Why is that what we want? Why should we want it? I mean--okay. God wants us to love each other, marry each other, start families. That's the only thing I can come up with. Only--that doesn't seem to apply right now. I'm not necessarily seeking engagement, or pregnancy. For me, there's a point to romantic relationships aside from those, but while I know there is I can't figure out why there should be.

I know others can't either. "So get over it." Eh. If you can get over that, congrats. Move to Antarctica, and make sure there aren't any Penguins around to keep you company.

Wait. . I can't swim

2004-07-03T14:19:00.000-05:00

Am I in muddy water here? I worship God as the bringer of my life. I talk to him personally, I believe everything he’s done for me—everything I am!—is for greater good. At the same time I have to accept that other views exist, that the coincidences are there. Somehow, I can’t see how choosing to have that speak of God’s omnipotence doesn’t seem wrong.

I picture God, the ultimate source of energy, (as I can see him—‘So, God! Looking a lot like Merlin today!”) sitting in the heavens, watching us all—“LOVE SOMETHING HIGHER THAN YOURSELF! Don’t you GET IT!?” Only, he knows we’ll get it. We’ll all get it, if we care to.

You shall love the Lord your God. (Not a command, but a promise?)

I forgot to capitalize all the "He"s and "His"s.

2004-07-03T14:17:00.000-05:00

Back to the pagan transmutations—I’m fascinated. Not because it makes Christianity less special—not at all! To me, it’s that much more important. Our image of God—Zeus? Our tradition—the death and resurrection of Jesus? Oh, to be a religious scholar. How many religions have a resurrection story? A flood myth? Native Americans have a permeating flood myth. Universal cleansing. Mithras rose from the dead out of a cave. There’s so much more—and why doesn’t this make people fall to their knees? That for all of time the same myths and lessons and stories have been taught among different cultures? Even I, in all my ignorance. know that “I am the Way, the Truth, the Light” is always used here—Jesus is THE way, and the only way. Allah says so too. Buddha says there’s one path—the fact that God in the form of enlightenment resides in every one of us is seemingly irrelevant. The blending of our faiths may be political—but their origins may not. For the Romans, religion and politics were very nearly one. I’m amazed at this—God is the architect of the Universe! Would not all things point to him? Jesus spoke to those who would listen; a people that would not believe any other way. For them he was the way; for me he is the way. My belief in him and God and the holy spirit is my and many others’ way of understanding what I believe to be what’s bigger. Something bigger, higher than myself. His suffering I can relate to, it can horrify me. As relevant as the lessons Jesus teaches, and as true as the example he proves is to my life and the situations I’m able to witness, is proof to me that the Christian religion is how God intended me to know him.

It’s all the more powerful to know that the things I try to understand in this way religious people of hundreds of traditions for thousands of years have tried to understand in different ways.

Here's where she tries to define the Bible

2004-07-03T14:16:00.000-05:00

The Bible is a sacred collection of letters and stories recorded by the apostles and kings of Jesus’ time and before. I know that its contents have been changed by councils, its books organized and reordered by men who might not have known better. There’s no such thing as a pure translation—and its subtle shades of meaning change from language to language. Still—if one believes God works through anything that will show his face to any person—so what? Theology takes a blow every time a Dead Sea Scroll is found—but in my opinion, spirituality does not.

Sometimes I get the feeling that everything’s so contradictory and confusing because it’s in our terms. Sometimes I know that. It exists in our world—we will make it imperfect, we’ll riddle it with the pettiness our perceptions won’t allow us to see beyond.

I should've paid attention in REL12

2004-07-03T14:14:00.000-05:00

Scary how little I really know about the Bible. I woke up thinking all the stuff I’m about to write. I’m a little ashamed to ask these questions, because I feel like these are the things I should have known before I decided to become a Christian.

(Of course, much of me believes I didn’t decide anything about it, but that’s something else.)

Good God—where to start? Jesus! ‘K. Jesus’s birth is prophesized, angels speak to two citizens of Nazareth, who doubt their ability to have a child. Mary is pregnant, miraculously, and Jesus is born in a manger—sometime in March? (Odd that December 25 comes up in so many religious traditions. The solstice—a pagan/Mithraic/who knows what else transmutation? Sun worship—how long has our name for the 7th day been ‘Sunday?’) Jesus grows up. What do we know of Jesus as a child? As a teenager? Anything? As a diving being, was there any innocence about him? I think I’m victim to popular ignorance. It’s hard to imagine God going through puberty. Then again, I should realize—the point is, it’s hard to imagine God as a man at all; that’s the wonder of it. It makes sense that, if nothing much should be found about Jesus’ childhood, it’s because not until he was old enough to leave home and family to wander and preach, he wouldn’t have accumulated followers to write about him. Then again, that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Joseph and Mary knew he wasn’t your ordinary kid. Many did. The star? The three kings of the orient? Is that just a song? People came to offer gifts. The drummer boy, even. (Allright, that was cheek. But it’s still my point.) Would anyone have written about it? And if so, would it have been lost? Excluded from Christian canon? Unimportant? Seems odd to call any part of Jesus’ life unimportant. Were these people literate? Did they write?

Jesus reaches early adulthood and leaves home to spread his news. Has he not done so earlier? (In a different way, of course?) Maybe the people of his world wouldn’t have listened to an eight year old. He gathers his apostles—how did they become apostles? Was their number ordained, not in the sense that ‘everything is preordained,’ but in the sense that there were to be a certain number, and they knew that they were one of a certain number? In other words, did Jesus to say to any of them, “Join me, you shall be one of my 12 apostles? Of course, Jesus is God—he might well have known what God knew about it. But! He can’t have had the omniscience God has, and walk the earth as a man—or couldn’t he? Jesus’ disciples go on to spread news of his teachings, and of God. They write letters and accounts of what happened—although many years later. Was it 30? I’m remembering it was a long time. Why did they wait that long?

Is it unfaithful to worry?

2004-07-01T21:15:00.000-05:00

Trust in Him.

Seems like, to worry about someone or something, means to throw that out the window. But I've been brought up in a house (as have many others, I venture to guess) in which to worry is to care.

Thus, I worry about people I care about.

So I guess it's "God, help me--but keep them safe first. . ."
Is that defeating the purpose?

(Then is there one purpose to prayer? Ohhhhhhhhno, this subject and I have yet to reach impasse . . )

Don'tcha Think?

2004-07-01T21:11:00.000-05:00

Anybody else find it ironic that a few posts prior to the "I haven't been happy in a long time" post was one entitled "She's happy?"

O, me melodrama!

Look! There's a fun mood swing to play on!

There's no title for this

2004-07-01T20:29:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted anything to this in a long time. I almost gave it up, because I realized, even though I'd started this with the intention of no one I knew actually ever reading it, I was starting to write with what certain people would think in mind. That's something I'm scared I've done in more ways than in posting to a blog.

. . .

And all I saw just now was Ben Stiller staring into a puddle in Times Square--"Who am I?" Way to lose a frame of mind.

I'm fighting against becoming someone else's idea of who I am.

"Bee yourself. Want me to sting her?" (There it goes again.)

That wasn't right. I'm fighting against becoming who I think someone else wants me to be. Therefore what starts with someone else is basically me burying myself in crap.
I don't think I'm happy when I'm doing that. (I mean, not that folks don't usually enjoy burying themselves in crap. . )

"Tired of being what you want me to be."

Only--in my version, it's more like, "Tired of being what I am, however rightly or wrongly, assuming you (plural) want me to be."

Ugh. I'm not very happy right now, am I? I'm not used to that. If that sounds arrogant. . it's innocent. What scares me is that I wouldn't have called myself generally happy in a long time. It's odd to be realizing that. Maybe--now--because I know what happiness is, or I can conceive of what it should be--"528 failures in a row"--that's getting me down more than the hope is showing me I should rejoice in it. Ever since I started college--wherever I've been, I've generally wanted to be somewhere else. Ever feel like that? Like you're just sort of. . agitating, wherever you happen to be?

I think part of me still believes it's because I'm still here in the same city I was born in. Could be part of it. But somewhere I think I know that has less to do with it than other things. Now that I actually include God in my thoughts, I have trouble with the "God has you where he wants and needs you to be--" am I supposed to reprogram myself to accept where I am, or take my agitation as a sign I need to be somewhere else?

Even as I typed that the answer seemed clear. If I'm supposed to know I need to be somewhere else, it seems I'd know where that should be. The fact that "I don't like being here" alone doesn't seem to carry the weight of God's will. Then again, who am I to say?

Head hurts.

And not from thinking. Another migraine. Arghrh. Could never be a hypochondriac. I hate when anything puts me 'out of commission' in the least part. I was 'that kid' that actually hated missing school--because that meant I was missing something.

I've been getting a lot of migraines lately. I've only just started calling them that. "Migraine" seemed a lot more serious than I wanted to admit. But I get nauseous, and light and sound sensitive. . . the left side of my head pounds and I can't see out of that eye. Bleegh. Pressure changes, I hope.

Am I burned out? I've felt like robogirl since the start of spring term this past year. I have to stay busy, though. I'm better off busy. (Winter Term = Never Again)

I should treat moods like this like cramps. Clench your teeth, hold on to something, and wait an hour until it passes. And don't get me anywhere near a blog in the meantime, or another post like this'll come out. . .

Profundity where you least expect it

2004-06-27T13:50:00.000-05:00

I saw "Farenheit 9/11" last night.

A Muslim woman in hysterics after the bombing of her civilian neighborhood screams something about Allah over and over--the subtitles translate, "Help us, God, God help us."

Maybe they used "God" in the subtitles to draw a closer parallel between this woman and the Christian woman who breaks down in the wake of her son's death in the next segment. Maybe they didn't think the average American audience would know who "Allah" was. (!?)

I don't know why my throat closed up when I saw that. "God" isn't a term specific to the Christian religion. Just to read it translated as such. . .to be taken by surprise. . .all of a sudden I knew that we're all extremely petty individuals.

If it's blasphemous to think so I don't get anything.

Nope.

2004-06-27T13:44:00.000-05:00

That's part of it.

Knowing I've screwed up, that I'm imperfect--in everything, down to those decisions I've made for reasons that would be the wrong ones, but would prove to teach me something according to God's will. Being sorry for it, however pointless it may seem, is inevitable--required.

(Ironic that the first thing that comes to mind here is the line, 'sometimes you can't say sorry.')

So I'm an Idiot

2004-06-27T13:28:00.000-05:00

What I said before. . that, someday, I'll look back on the past year and know it's made me a better person?

Of COURSE it has! What faith do I have, if I don't believe that? If it doesn't sound bad--I was expecting myself to make this realization. God works through everything I do, everything that happens to me, whether I like it or not, realize it or not.

I know that. I've known that. It just. . isn't something I think about when I need to know it the most.

Everything that's hurt, everything that hasn't happened the way I've wanted it to--everything I've wanted to be that hasn't been--He's done it all, and what's made it hurt, what's made it not what I would have had happen, is the imperfection of my will.

So. . how do accept that, live with it, without going mad?

Do I squash the passions I have for things that don't seem to work, because it would seem that God doesn't want it to happen that way?

I know how stupid that sounds, but I can't wrap my head around what it should mean.
Is this knowledge that can only help after the fact?

If I'm panicking, it's because I realize how little control I really have.

Maybe I feel like if I could know this when it matters I could eliminate the "should have"--the "could have"--the regret. Like--if I'm going to make the mistakes, the least I could do is not feel like I shouldn't have made them?

My fingers hurt

2004-06-25T20:20:00.000-05:00

So I'm gonna try to learn a song a day. I figure between that, Italian, practicing the drums, my photography project, and reading through the aforementioned crapload of books, I'll keep myself pretty busy.

So this is why I like summer--!

Mission:

2004-06-25T12:42:00.000-05:00

1. Find a small town that doesn't have a bookstore.

2. Move to said small town.

3. Open bookstore in said small town.

i should choose to accept.

She's happy

2004-06-25T11:09:00.000-05:00

Work is okay today. I'm learning a lot that I think will help me if I ever get home to collect that camera. . .

It's a fully manual Minolta from the late 70s, and it's gathering dust. . .no more! I have a desire to take black and white photographs. For. . .? Yeah, I dunno.

Well. . .

Yeah, I do. There are places around this campus where I've been--and seen some things that have spoken to me when I've needed something the most. It's not that I'll be trying to take a picture of God--it's rather that--by helping me see these things when I needed to, He not only influenced me in that instant, but left behind a place, a symbol, or the way a branch lies across a path--that will always remind me of Him when I find myself there again.

I'm ready. Maybe I'll go home this afternoon. . .

On a side note. . .I'm realizing how incredibly telling a picture can be, that something maybe we're used to seeing, when taken out of the context of our three-dimensional perception, and framed by a 3 x 5 rectangle--can suddenly turn into something it's never been for us. Which is why my sister's b&w photographs from her visit to Auschwitz ("it didn't seem right to use color") got ripped up and thrown away. Maybe not the action I would have taken. . .but apparently they said too much.

Back to work. .

Another random thought (surprised?)

2004-06-24T20:41:00.000-05:00

Does anybody ever keep a diary, or a journal, or a blog, that's actually indicative of their brain activity?

I just read over the posts I've accumulated so far, and I sound pretty vapid. How many thoughts speed through your mind in a given moment? I've given up trying to record "how I feel" about some things--because my mind changes on them so fast that by the time I've written the first half of a sentence about it I'm looking at it from a completely opposite perspective.

The worst is not being able to reason something out. If it means anything to you, it doesn't go away--it stays, in perpetual motion. Sometimes it feels like the synapses need a 15.

Now that I've proved I'm neurotic. . .

Goodnight.

Would that. .

2004-06-24T20:33:00.000-05:00

someone love me weel. Shew to me trulie.
To think. . of having a bonnie ship builded for me.

Wow, I'm sleepy.

Book Lust

2004-06-24T20:20:00.000-05:00

I suffer from it, or the 1904 version of "English and Scottish Popular Ballads" wouldn't be on top of one of three stacks of newly-acquired books next to my bed. It's fantastic--and the fact that it's 100 years old is pretty cool, too. :)

An excerpt: (ahemahem)

-He did love her very weel,
--He shewed to her trulie;
-He builded her a bonnie ship,
--And set her on the sea.

From "Fair Janet," Scotland

These are great. With names like, "The Elfin Knight," "The True Tale of Robin Hood," and "Willie O Douglas Dale," how could they help but be?

A lot of professors are moving to different offices, so the academic buildings are littered with "free book" tables. O, Death. I can't walk by one of them without picking something up.

I've got Homer and Virgil now. . James Joyce. Sange. Kant and Kierkegaard. Biblical Archaeology, and a Life of Martin Luther. I'm really happy. The library didn't have its book sale this year, due to the move and all. That's okay. These were free.

I just got one today--"Christianity and Classical Thought." Giggle.

Da Vinci and Damage Control

2004-06-24T19:59:00.000-05:00

I read The DaVinci Code last night, and then spent all day reading all the hype about it online. Good fun.

Yes, I looked at the Last Supper. Many times. Who hasn't, after reading that book?

Overall, in trying to be unbiased with a summary, and notwithstanding any factual errors, the book involves the search for the Holy Grail, as defined by metaphor, and as hidden by a secret society; along with the 'Holy Grail' are hidden documents that prove that Jesus Christ had a wife, Mary Magdalene, and progeny, whose role in the Christian tradition was deleted from the religion by men of the (very) early Catholic church.

The crux of the matter (as I understand it) is this: if Jesus Christ had a wife, and children, he is apparently less the 'divinity' the church expects he was. This is where I lose touch.

If they aren't misogynists, the people incensed by the book appear to have a problem with Jesus 'as man.' For me--oddly--the prospect of Jesus having a wife, whom he loved, and respected, and could have entrusted his church--? It's a beautiful possibility, that for me, echoes many of the ideas Paul sets forth in Ephesians.

Then again, I'm no biblical scholar. I realize there are theological problems with the idea, but I also realize that as atraditional as the thought is, it stands against a lot of bias.

It's an interesting book to read. So. . .read it!
Just remember. . when you get to the last page, Dan Brown's a writer of fiction, but if he's made you think, he's done what more than 80 percent of those in his field fail to do.

TIWF

2004-06-22T21:16:00.000-05:00

Another day at work. I'm organizing a slide library now. It's pretty tedious, and involves a lot of new equipment. I'm learning a lot. . .like, don't buy slide-scanners, because no matter how expensive they are, they'll eat slides.

I had to lead a discussion tonight for our PWF meeting. It was crazy, I was pretty darn nervous. I've never done anything like that, and "I don't feel qualified" is an understatement. Less than a year ago I couldn't have cared less about God. I guess it's good that I remember that--that I haven't lost touch with how I was, since I see that as a huge part of the reason I feel the way I do now. Then again, that's a pretty obvious conclusion to make.

Ever realize something that you feel like you should have seen a lot earlier? (I'm guessing so, or the phrase "I just realized" would be foreign to us all.) At any rate, it's the difference between 'knowing' someone, and 'knowing' what they tell you about themselves. I've been one part of a relationship that--I realize now--was based not on things I allowed the other person to see, or was allowed to see of the other person--but on what I wanted them to see, and they wanted me to know about themselves.

They don't know I love orange soda and thunderstorms. The type of things they'd find out by asking, by paying attention. Not the things I think they'd think were cool, not the things I'd think they'd care to know. And I could say the same thing for myself.

Do we mold people into our ideas of the perfect interest? Do we see what we want to, (especially if helped along, as above) and throw the rest away? I don't think it's necessarily wrong to see what we want to see--that's part of what attracts people to each other--but throwing the rest away means not caring about the rest of that person.

This probably sounds odd. But it makes sense in my head. (That doesn't exactly mean it would to anyone else.)

I'm really tired of feeling lonely. If I could enjoy the solitude I get sometimes, now, I think I'd be fine. Maybe it's stability I crave. I had it, I guess--maybe I got used to it. At any rate, I gave it up. I've never been sorry I did, and I'm not now.

Could be why I'm pouring out my thoughts to a weblog?

Yikes.

Rainy Days and a load of "heehee"

2004-06-21T22:27:00.000-05:00

I love rain! It's been storming about four times a day for the last week or so. Heehee.

I had practice again today. . .Scottish drummers rock. I'm earning my kilt. Heehee.

One more 'heehee:' I wanted to play soccer tonight, so we ended up out on the field by Blackwell. . there were five of us, and it (guess what?) started pouring. . it was a lot of fun. Still pretty wet.

TIWF

Goodnight!

Happy Father's Day

2004-06-20T22:27:00.000-05:00

Today I will follow wherever You lead
Seek Your perfection in all that I do

-s.williams/w.bazemore

Rome, if I want to

2004-06-19T21:39:00.000-05:00

"Duh."

I'm going to Rome in two months. I'm actually going to ROME in two months. This is crazy. I've never been out of the United States. I'll stay there for two months.
STAY in ITALY for two months. Is this sounding repetitive?

I'm ready to go. I've been here in the same place since I was born. I haven't been gone for more than a week and two days at a time.

Holy cow.

Have I really done anything today?

2004-06-19T18:32:00.000-05:00

I just spent four hours practicing rudiments, and recording vocal stuff for Numb and God Be Merciful To Me. Yes, I'm talking about the Linkin Park song, and yes, that's a hymn. I like a lot of music. I've been told I "don't look like" a Linkin Park fan. Eh. I mean, that's cool. Way to be exclusive.

I have a cable that feeds the pickup on my guitar directly into my computer. But I've never tried to record myself singing before, and all I've got for that is the thing embedded in the keyboard of my laptop. Makes for some interesting recording.

For the record, it's hard to sing face down in a keyboard. (Shoot, it's hard for me to sing period.)

New song: "Grace," by Silers Bald

Bleh

2004-06-19T13:41:00.000-05:00

*sigh*

Can I roll my eyes on a blog?

Me and the Cat-Squeezers

2004-06-19T09:22:00.000-05:00

I've just started playing the drums for a bagpipe band here where I live. I'm learning to play the snare, but in the meantime I'll be marching on the tenor drum--which I really like. Apparently a lot of people get started on that, get mad because they're not in the snare line, and quit. I still want to learn snare rudiments--but I'm enjoying being a tenor.

It's a lot of fun--it's a great group of people. There's sort of this pseudo-animosity between the pipers and the drummers. We were practicing in the same room once, and when we couldn't hear our practice pads over the wailing of pipes, our drum sargeant slammed his sticks down, stood up and yelled, "*@&$ CAT-SQUEEZERS!"

Thus was born my favorite euphemism for "bagpiper."

[Warning] A post full o' sap:

2004-06-19T08:52:00.000-05:00

Y'know when something totally confounds you, the easiest thing to do is ignore it? Well, when that something's a person--that doesn't really work.

I need a phone call. "Hey God. How do I feel about someone? Really! No kidding! 'K. Thanks."

I think I'm learning what it's like to love someone. Without the gooey romantic stuff attached. I love my family--but I don't know that I've ever recognized it outside of that. Am I that cold, or is that a hard thing for anyone else to do?

Errr. I thought I'd get on this thing and write to 'clear my head,' but my head's so unclear it's not giving me anything to work with.

When all else fails, she'll quote a song.

so i wait / and i wait / and i run myself in the same old circles
i sit / and i stare / and i run old scenes through my tired head

I always end up on the floor. . .

2004-06-17T22:22:00.000-05:00

Do I have something against furniture? Not really. You just can't listen to music sitting anywhere else.

I'm finally getting into this web design stuff. I had fun today; the section I was working on was published without any problem.

I'm going out of the country at the end of august. I think I'm making it a bigger deal than it'll end up being--not for being excited, but for thinking it'll end a period of my life. I'll be there for over two months. Maybe it's wishful thinking--or some kind of escapism. I'm not sure which.

It's been a really hard year. When I think about this time last year, I either want to cry or laugh, so much have things changed for me. In the end, I know I'll say I'm a better person, or that I've learned things that I couldn't have learned any other way--but from here, can that be hard to say? I wish it weren't, that I could see more clearly.

So I keep starting these things. .

2004-06-16T22:36:00.000-05:00

This is maybe number four. Maybe I'll keep up with this one--I really have no excuse, since it's summer and all.

I started work a few days ago--I'm doing a lot of web design. Which is maybe why this little box that's here for me, without having to code anything, is so darn exciting. I love my job, but it's pretty tedious. I went into this with scant HTML coding ability and a bigger 'vision' for this project than I needed to have. It's just frustrating having to look up everything. . but I'll get going on it soon.

In the meantime, if anyone wants the hexadecimal code for a really nice shade of green, let me know. :-)