electric diary

2010-09-24T13:24:00.001-05:00

The Alter Guild

2010-06-06T09:30:00.004-05:00

Dum dum de dum. It's T-minus less than three months til the wedding day. Not sure how the planning is going. I suppose we'll see when we get there.

We're getting married at St. Alban's Church here is Waco. We love this little church, its rector Jeff Fisher, and the congregation (even though we haven't really gotten to know them). And since Jeff is marrying us and the church is so graciously opening its doors to our guests on the white-hot day I'm sure August 28 will be, I decided to take some time to demonstrate our gratitude.

So I've volunteered for the Alter Guild. Unfortunately, I'll only get to serve on it...three times before we move to Roswell, New Mexico. However, I'm thinking that I could serve on the alter guild at our new Roswell church, whichever (of the TWO Episcopal churches) it may be.

Yesterday afternoon I met the rest of my Alter Guild team up at the church and had a crash course on how to set everything up. There was so much to learn! There were all sorts of cloths and bowls and silver goblets, crystal pitchers. So many mysteries and things to learn.

When you go "backstage" of a church so steeped with tradition, the mystery does not dissipate. It actually gets thicker. You would think that learning what goes on behind the scenes is like learning the steps of a magician's trick. It's not. It only makes things more complicated. No illusion is lifted. Instead, you become even more convinced that you'll never untangle all the ins and outs of the worship of a Holy God.

That's how I felt as a much younger girl, when the priests at my cousin's Catholic church hosted her birthday lunch in their home. Priestly humor, and the immense amount of books, and the bond they shared, and the strange presence of alcohol only made things more complicated. My aunt had asked me not to share details about inside the rectory, just out of respect for the private lives of the priests.

It's a good thing, though. I like that the details never stop unfolding, the complication of things.

Undertow

2010-04-25T19:08:00.002-05:00

your mouth makes a perfect o

small, smaller than my own

and cool, your afternoon well spent waiting

(my palm against you)

what had you to do anyway?

it's sunday.

and i tip you toward me waiting, wanting

will you rush at me too warm?

have you turned cold?

my mouth meets the firmness of yours

you are fresh and reposed

subtly bitter

so many feelings rush at me

your familiar sweetness

the thickness of your taste

the startling cold, unexpected greeting

and your powerful warmness

awake(!), enough to pull me up

undertow

** The undertow is a delightful concoction enjoyed at the Starbucks at Central Texas Marketplace. There are variations of it elsewhere in coffee shops across the world but as far as I know this particular one originated here. Created by a friendly yet aloof male barista, it is a layered espresso shot. The first layer is shot of syrup (mine is SF Vanilla), the second layer is a hint of cold milk, and it is topped by a fresh shot of espresso. Delicious and effective, it became a staple for many a secret service agent stopping in on his or her way to the President's ranch in nearby Crawford.

Here is someone else's post about the undertow. Just do a search for them and it will return reviews from all over the country.

_________________________________

One more thing. While we're on this topic. I find that this drink articulately describes a feeling I have quite often. Yes, sorry, an existential feeling. (See my sentences get choppier as I try to avoid Dear Diary-ing). I just feel like my everyday is caught in an undertow. With all I am I am desiring and creating who I am and what I want to do. Still, I feel powerless to actually propel myself into actualizing those desires. My books remain unread, letters do not write themselves, and schools cannot accept me without my applying to them.

I don't feel like I'm just treading water I'm swimming, pushing forward, but progress is so indiscernible. This week I accomplished one big push in turning in an application to a great school at which I would love to teach. By this time next week, I will accomplish one more great step in regards to graduate school. Little by little. Building my Rome.

Any push I do have. That is from the Lord.

likely story

2010-04-25T10:01:00.001-05:00

I didn't take any pictures this week because my SD card was in my net book and I kept forgetting to take it out and put it in my camera.

to think about:

2010-04-19T22:02:00.002-05:00

leaves waffling through the air

perpetual sadness

heartbreak as the portal into adulthood

genetics

new ideas or old ones?

Kant and the unstoppable urge to categorize everything

the lie of advertising

how long has House been on T.V.? long time.

Preparing to Be the Woman I Want to Be

2010-04-18T13:51:00.009-05:00

At the end of yoga we lay down in savasana- the corpse pose. Having exhausted (ha-we wish) every muscle, we surrender completely to the ground, our souls pointing upward, arms outstretched as they fall, and palms up, ready to receive and to give blessings.

This is my favorite time. In savasana I feel the most like myself. In savasana I connect with Sara past, present, and future.

I see my lowliness before the Creator and my sprightly spirit He has filled with joy. In savasana I can make any decision, I can know the desires of my true self, and the way of birds and roots and leaves.

In these moments of clarity, after I have opened up every muscle and exhaled stale air out of the hidden cavities of my lungs, after asking forgiveness, and laying there at his mercy, my path becomes a little bit more clear and sun shines on another inch of destiny.

There are some habits I need to form to become the woman I want to be, the woman I want Mitch to marry. One habit I started working on this week-- carrying my camera every day and getting at least one good shot to share. Here are the pictures from this last week:

Sunday: Rejoicing over bluebonnets. During this celebrations some "bluebonnet activists" drove by and shouted "F*^& you!"

Monday: Mitch making one of my favorite faces of his-- consternation, resulting from this new big bottle beer we were trying, Collaboration Not Litigation. Perfect setting for discussing flowers for the wedding.

Tuesday: tree at work
Wednesday or Thursday (not sure): calf at work
Friday: glamour at the Hollywood Jewel in Waco-- Alyssa and Jason

Gratuitous picture of Clark and June which I love.

Saturday

love songs for the engage-d

2010-03-21T13:40:00.002-05:00

Hello. Mitch asked me to marry him.

!!!!!!!!

We would like to center our wedding on a line from a beloved poem and have the entirety to it read during the ceremony. Today while searching for the most fitting poem, I realized something. Because, I mean, we love poetry and to read it aloud to each other. One might think that since this is the case we would already know a perfect one, right? Actually no.

Because a majority of our relationships has been spent apart, separated by long Texas highways (and multiple states at times) I've realized that many of our favorite love poems are about separation and not togetherness.

So, it is time to harvest a new crop of favorites-- poetry that gives us the language of together, of forever. Suggestions are more than welcome.

Thank you for reading us all the way through our dating relationship, fellow bloggers. Here's to the next stretch of open road.

Book Review: Orthodoxy

2010-01-07T07:38:00.002-06:00

"The modern world is full of the old Christian values gone mad."

- G.K. Chesterton

Orthodoxy is a book that I should have devoured a year ago. In retrospect, I see all of the dark nights of the soul that it could have saved me, buffered me from. Yet, the lessons I learned waging my own existential and metaphysical mind battles were well worth the wounds they inflicted and the scars I am left with. This book is wonderful. Read it. Although I thought I couldn't adore mysticism any more than I do, this book has me falling in love with not knowing all over again.

Hello

2010-01-05T22:32:00.003-06:00

I took myself out on a date at lunch time. The cold salad plate made me swoon and the soup was novel. I read a book and felt nostalgic.

Technicolor Life

2009-11-08T19:32:00.002-06:00

It is easy to become wrapped up in life. It is difficult to wrap one's mind around life. My mind bounces in pin-ball fashion between the complexities and simplicities of existence. Mystery is no stranger to me, so answers I expect not, or, if ever, rarely. This moment, some things glitter with epiphany-esque novelty and surety. They are certain, were certain a moment ago. Today they are foundational, tomorrow-- ethereal. That is fine; that is flux.

Example. It has ever been hard for me to decide if life is exceedingly simple, with everything being homogenous and rote, or if it is indeed composed of endless complexities. Finally, a picture came to mind that reconciled the two polar ideas. As mundane as this sounds, the picture was a chart. In the middle is the one, the good, God-- Alpha, Omega. God is beginning, end, all, the I Am. Then, branching out from the center in several directions are the themes of life. They are simple, because everything under the sun comes back to them. They are ancient and fresh. Love, Friendship, Family, Pride, Fear-- maybe. Themes, who am I to define them? Most are self-evident. And then from each of these themes a million, a billion, a trillion complexities sprout and become entangled with each other, forming knots, forming hybrids, forming, sprouting, shooting, twisting into infinity. They are the individuals, the quirks, the eras, the ambiguities, the details. And all go back to the themes, and all go back to the one, the good, God, being.

Here today, gone tomorrow. What I like about ideas like this that fall into my head is how they always seem to make life a shade clearer. Once they append to my worldview, I feel like I am just that much closer to getting it, to things clearing up, to enjoying the world as it is. It's like this little toy Mitch just gave himself. It's a little box that hooks up to his sound system that enhances the sound that comes out of the speakers. It makes sound come out like it was intended to be heard. It enriches the colors of all the notes that swirl out. Technicolor music notes, if you will.

That is what moments of clarity are like. They bring out the deeper shades of life. Brights brighten, depths deepen. Etc.

Grace and peace.

Blood and Guts

2009-10-20T22:18:00.002-05:00

It has been a long time since I've written a blog. At least six weeks, because it has been that long since I quit my job. The job I moved to Waco for. The job I hated 95% of the time: being a nanny for Family X.

You might have noticed that I never blogged about nannying. That is because I rarely had anything good to say about it. There were a few days here or there where I enjoyed my job. Where I thought, "Hey, I'm successfully running a household. How satisfying!" or "I love that I can cook whatever my heart desires for Family X because they buy all the ingredients I need!"

Those days were just too few and far between. Whatever you are doing, find joy in it. If it is ridiculously difficult to find joy in it, maybe you shouldn't be doing it in the first place.

Whewwwwww..... A gust of wind.

I am glad that the Lord delivered me from that place. It is nice to be happy again. Even though what the future holds for me is uncertain, I feel good and feeling good stands in stark contrast to how I felt during my ten weeks of employment.

Currently, I temp in an office in town. It is nice. Everyone acts office-y. Even I do. I walk around with my shirt tucked in, and a coffee cup in my raised right hand. Even though I just count beans and especially despite the fact that I am paid peanuts, I really delight in going in and contributing something to whatever it is that they do. Being a part of a team is nice.

Funny rabbit story? Yes, I have one. Tonight my bunny Luna was laying down on the hearth by the fireplace. She likes that spot because it is nicely cool. Well I walked over there and layed down by her on the hearth and opened a magazine. She absolutely did not understand. She treated me like a total invader and started pushing me away with her nose and eating my magazine. She even nipped at my heel which is quite odd. I moved over in the opposite direction about half a foot, which satisfied her and she layed back down and permitted me to pet her.

Schnitzel & Crap Cobbler (How My Summer After College Sorta Stunk)

2009-08-25T18:42:00.003-05:00

Two things occurred today that I never expected. The first came as an involuntary praise to God during my morning commute. Suddenly I realized how thankful I am to Him that summer is over. He had delivered me from the longest, most exhausting and flavorless days of summer I had ever endured. Never have I not been reluctant for summer away. This year it changed. Being a nanny for four children during the summer in this small city was a greater challenge that I ever imagined. And today, it is over. Today was the first day of school.

The second thing is that I am stuck at work because my defunct blueberry & strawberry cobbler took an audacious amount of time to bake. Who'da thunk it?

In all fairness though, my weekends during the second half of the summer were super fun because Mitch and I filled them with weekend trips. Also, having to cook every day for this family has been a welcome task that I look forward to. Blehh! Life!

virginia woolf

2009-07-27T20:26:00.000-05:00

Thank you for introducing me to so many new people (characters), Virginia Woolf. Your genius lies in that now I know so many more people that I do and do not really know at all.

Taking Care of Business

2009-07-13T09:34:00.002-05:00

Feeling good. Two days a week I have "half" days where I only work from 1-6:30. Today is such. I love these days.

I received my first paycheck. It was a great feeling. Working full time rules! Eh. Not really, but my work is good and money is good and paying bills is good, too, which is what I've done so far today. I'm a bit skeptical of online bill pay through my bank. The only thing I've used it for in the past was my credit cards which are through my bank. Fool proof. Now we'll see if such and such water service in Utah receives my money. Fingers crossed.

Also tried to get my delivery of the Times to stop being scattered. Wish I had gotten on it sooner because they just credit your account if you report missing your paper. I thought it might be more difficult. Nope.

Also, excited about using Mint.com to help me better manage my money. Wahoo!

In the works: an article for Pop Culture & Faith about nihilism and independent films. I'm really enjoying rereading pieces of Dr. Wood's Placing Aesthetics for this piece. He is so brilliant.

Adult Ed.

2009-07-06T22:25:00.004-05:00

Today I read something surprising in Mortimer Adler's The Paideia Proposal: An Educational Manifesto. He states in it that real education happens after someone completes their education, when they are on their own, when their maturity is put to the test, when they make crucial life decisions.

This was surprising because we post-mod babies are raised to look backward into our childhoods for the most shaping moments in our lives. It is true that the stuff adults are made of is indeed concocted when we are young. There can be no denying that. I know my dad is still moved in his heart by "the way he was raised," despite how far he feels that he strayed from that.

But, maybe Adler is still right. When we're out of school, when all training wheels are off, when we pedal so far that we cannot look back and see our mothers standing behind us we have the chance to either bend and break under independence and responsiblity, or to stand stronger, and more resilient against their weight.

God and the Pope

2009-06-13T16:54:00.003-05:00

This morning I finished reading Orlando while standing on the third step in the pool. What a whirlwind of ideas and drama and description! I don't know how to review it, yet. I just know that I couldn't have read it at a better time in my life. Love.

Outside of this Starbucks, two men are sitting, shooting the breeze. They've provided me quite a bit of entertainment. For a while I couldn't see one of their faces because it was hidden past the other one's head. He was speaking, which I could only infer by the wildness in his hands as they gestured and made motions and acted things out. I watched them with a bit of fascination. He made a fist and acted like he was stuffing things into it. He demonstrated the length of his forearm. He made circles. He patted invisible heads. All the while I was imagining that he was God and was retelling the creation of the world and it made me laugh. Especially when he patted the heads. The other man has unruly white hair and is smoking. He has thick RayBan glasses. I'm pretending he was once a Pope. God is also wearing glasses, which I can see because he is sitting back in his chair now and they dialogue interchangably and flick their cigarrettes. I never figured him for a Cowboys' fan. He's wearing their hat.

Under The Covers

2009-06-11T18:11:00.005-05:00

It's been a skip-between-books summer so far. Quite unlike me. The problem was in my choice to read Ulysses by James Joyce first. Can I say, "Not compelling"? The rambling streets of Dublin dialect and the wandering thoughts ARE GREAT, seriously, but they don't exactly entice me to pick the book up in my every spare second. It isn't a difficult read. It's just a monster.

So, I've been reading other things in the meantime . Before I jumped into Ulysses I reread Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in anticipation of the movie's July release which makes me squeal every time I think about it.

Then I happened upon a five dollar copy of Skinny Bitch at, yes, Books-A-Million, which upon completion had me completely convinced that to not be vegan was to be near evil, doomed to develop cancer, and cursed to lead a fat, fat, life. Buyers of this book beware! It is no glam diet and health book, it is vegan seduction! Thankfully, the emotions wore down to a nub, and I have settled on stocking my kitchen with vegan versions of all of my staples: milk, butter, chorizo (haha, only half kidding), sugar, oil and commited to buy as much organic produce as I can afford. I'm eating way more fruits and veggies, reading the labels of food before I buy them, and am almost completely eradicating meat from my diet (at least when I'm at home, which is often), and drinking so much more water. I do have a drink with my dinner almost every night, usually a red wine or Mexican beer, but I'm listening to my body a lot more when it says, "I'm thirsty! Parched, even! Give me a gulp of water!" It actually makes having a glass of wine much more enjoyable and longer lasting when I am alternating sips of water. Yum. It's not a complete lifestyle overhaul, but it is a change for the better.

Also, I'm reading The Sacredness of Questioning Everything by David Dark. Dr. Naugle gave this to me as a graduation gift. It's even signed with a note to me by the author! So neat! Whenever I read a particularly cool passage I flip to the front where the note is and think: "Wow! He's heard of my "work"! He's so cool!"

Here and there I read or reread pieces of Walden. The connection is simple. He was alone. I am alone. His life is beautiful. I want my life to be beautiful. If you have never read Walden, your life is not as rich as it could and should be.

Today I decided to crack open another one of my "Novel Summer" goals: Orlando, by Virginia Woolf. How have my eyes never before traced the lines of her witty prose? I am in love. Deeply, deeply in love.

Debateably worth mentioning: The New York Times and I have become friends, on the weekdays.

Finally, much to the relief of my spirit, the BCP and one of the gospels and I have resumed our morning meetings.

Turning Points

2009-06-07T22:06:00.004-05:00

Tonight my adventure ended right where my new one has begun, Waco. I took a trip last week to catch up with old friends in the Hill Country, both in Austin and in Burnet. Magnificent trip, really! Wading in Barton Springs! Paddling a boat in Lake Buchanan! Tonight I took a drive down Highway 29, and was reminded of how I once knew it so well, spotting the places I'd pull over to watch the stars and what was once a coffee shop that made me feel at ease. After I hit 35, the sunset in the West guided me back home.

I wrote a journal entry there that I have decided to share with you. Enjoy.

I'm in Burnet. My expectations were wrong and now I'm paying the price. I'm sad. I wanted to see what was the same and go to my favorite places as if all of my memories are still tucked within them rather than hidden in me. I should have braced myself for what's different, what's changed. But I didn't do that. So now I'm sad that Kiri's (a coffee shop) is gone. The man from the Knife store was out front as I walked up so happily with my books in one hand and he shook his head at me as I stuck out my bottom lip, the prospect of walking back into one my homes completely and utterly terminated. "For lease" was written in loopy cursive on the glass storefront. The man said it had been closed since January. Regretfully, now I am just caught in nostalgia about the hours spent there and the open mic nights that truly blessed me.

The Riverwalk still makes me happy though. It is just as peaceful as I left it. Green grass, a breeze through the leaves of these huge, old trees, the sound of the fountains of water, and the golden glints of sunlight hitting the ripples of water in the creek. (Here's where I must have forgotten my treasured descriptive words!) Tonight a movie will be shown here and the town will fill the lawn with blankets, children, and popcorn.

It turns out that a lot of my girls didn't fare so well after I left. It was both disappointing and not surprising.

I wonder if I have too quickly gotten tied down. Yet, I love what I'm tied down to, and it is my heart that is bound, the most voluntary thing, which means that I want to be tied to that which my heart clings. I just want to accomplish at least part of that for which I have the potential. It often seems like there aren't enough lifetimes for what I want to see, accomplish, do, and live.

People ask me "Why Waco?" But a year ago they asked "Why Michigan?" Three years ago it was "Why Burnet?" and four years ago "Why DBU?" but in every experience I've undergone remarkable growth, been happy with my choices, and enjoyed my life. Everywhere, people have fascinated me and I've loved hearing their stories and getting involved in their lives and communities. I haven't ever felt geographically out of the will of God. He leads me ever to green pastures, not to glamourous ones.

Today I sat down and chatted with two of the most important and charming people I met in my Burnet adventure. Alisha is now the age I was when I moved there. It isn't like I needed recognition but I asked her how she would like to move to a small town where she hardly knew anyone. She just laughed and shook her head and said she had been thinking about that, too. Now she can finally understand what I did and come close to thinking about how it felt, striking out on my own at 19. She asked me, "Were you scared?"

I thought about it for a few moments, trying to put myself back in that place in my heart and mind. "No. Not really," I said. "I was a little nervous, but I was more scared of what would happen to me if I didn't go. I knew it was what God wanted, so I didn't want to go out side of that. Plus, how could I miss such a great adventure?"

As it was then, may it now be.

The New York Times

2009-06-02T09:23:00.004-05:00

This video is from last night.

This morning I began a relationship with The New York Times that I truly wish will be a long and happy one. Since my adventure in Waco does not include having a T.V. (or a microwave lol) and since the newspaper industry seems down for the count, I became a weekday subscriber (for 50% off the regular price!).

This morning my first paper arrived at my doorstep. How freakin' convenient!!!

One of the cover stories caught my attention immediately. It's entitled "Tough Challenges Face a Reshaper of Schools" and is about how Arne Duncan, the chief executive of Chicago public schools and Obama's education secretary gave over 12 schools a makeover by firing all of its faculty and staff, completely restaffing it and constructing new accountability programs that include every student, many parents, and everyone on staff there, including the cooks. All of these schools were failing. Now he wants to do the same with thousands of schools nationwide who are equally REJECTS.

Is this an effective method to improve public education? Do we have talented teachers and administrators just out there available to staff these re-try's? I'm not sure about all this, yet. BUT, one thing I'm glad of is that the decrepit American public school system is getting a ton of attention, and also 6 billion dollars in bailout money. Thank you, President Obama.

Decisions

2009-06-01T15:03:00.002-05:00

Many things are common sense. Many common sensical things are oft forgotten.

For instance, decisions. It seems like common sense that we cannot decide our futures in just one day. Yet, if this is so matter of fact, why do we feel the weight of the future in every decision so often during this time, our 20's? I do not forget that I am the sort of personality that feels anxiety about these things, especially prematurely. Some people are more successful at being chill. All I can say is that I'm trying to take things one moment at a time, to do an adequate amount of planning and preparing, and a moderate amount of kicking back and basking in the now.

We don't decide the rest of our lives in one day. Instead, it is everyday that we make decisions that shape the rest of our lives. Little by little, moment by moment, we carve out our place in the present and those little channels we dig lead us to the opportunities of tomorrow.

Today is for eating healthy food and reading good books. Tomorrow I will pick up where I left off. The next day is determined by the day before.

Many movies and books feature versions of this theme. Butterfly Effect, and that one with Nicholas Cage. But, oddly enough, the one that I think is on the right track is actually Click, because it was once the remote figured outt what Adam Sandler's character would do in certain situations, it just kept making those small decisions for him. It was the summation of those minute decisions that delivered unto him the most undesirable life. Something to keep in mind.

Wacoan

2009-05-31T17:02:00.005-05:00

Every day the sun is a little closer and I try to put off outdoor activites until sunset. My new home is starting to come together. It's only been two days, but I already love living alone. My heart swells every time I'm in a room and think, "This. This is mine. This little kitchen is mine. This little patio is mine." I am both alone and very happy.

Having roommates for four years was an irreplaceable experience that was each day both a blessing and a catalyst for growth. Coming home to my sisters (over 10 of them altogether) was so fun, whether I just joined them on the couch for a little Bravo time or if I came in just in time to get slammed with a heart to heart. Though we incessantly poked fun at each other, we truly created a remarkable sisterhood within the walls of 1204 and it those times have indelibly shaped me and will linger in my memories forever.

I've done this before. Moved. Started over. Embraced a new community. Reached out to new friends. All of these experiences are recorded in my public blogs and private diaires, for which I am grateful. In each move one can read both apprehension and excitement, lonliness and exhilaration, and above all, hope. My wish for my time in Waco is that my hope perseveres, that my day love is deepened, that my faith is strengthened, and that I remember that each of these are gifts from God. They are not of me.

But for the grace of God, nothing. But for the grace of God, nothing.

The move to Burnet blog

A Few Scenes From Nacogdoches

2009-05-20T15:46:00.003-05:00

Advanced Thinking

2009-05-20T00:26:00.004-05:00

I graduated.

I graduated from college and I feel good. The last few days have been spent nestled in east Texas. I'm trying to relax, catch up on movies I never got around to seeing, embark on my "novel" summer, recharge my soul. It usually works. This place is good for a body. The red dirt is good. The proud, straight trees are good. At night the stars pour through deep navy sky. I'm praying to see one fall before my eyes. That is how I know I'm okay.

Time is well spent here, though it lulls between the hours. My aunt taught me how to knit and I have some sort of green creation waiting for me on gold colored knitting needles when I have a minute or two. There are some mistakes in it, but it's amusing to stretch out what I've completed and see it taking shape. Up around down. Up around down. Down around up. Down around up.

new video

2009-05-10T18:24:00.002-05:00

old videos!

2009-05-10T14:28:00.004-05:00

last day of undergrad starts in less than 3 hours

2009-05-07T21:21:00.002-05:00

Tonight I feel like a robot. Tomorrow I shall feel like a freed woman.

the one millionth occurence of saying the same thing at the same time

2009-04-20T08:33:00.000-05:00

Sara: yeah! last night (in my dream) I weighed 138 lb.s!!!

James: no!

Sara: yeah!!

James: are you sure it wasn't missing a decimal

13.8 pounds

Sara: lol

James: or maybe it was 138 pounds on the moon

Sara: or dream pounds

James: the gravity's different, you know

Sara: which mean love

James: 138 pounds of love

Sara: 138 pounds of love

James: haha

Sara: hax

we're ridiculous

A Novel Summer

2009-04-19T12:31:00.002-05:00

LESS THAN A MONTH TILL GRADUATION!

Oh, hooray! I have finished a majority of my course work. All that remains to be done:

1) Finish my thesis :)

2) An interview with a 'nam war vet

3) 3 trips to Mission Arlington and 3 corresponding reports (1 pg.) of philosophic conversations there (bleh!!!)

4) 1 Spanish test and 1 pg. letter using the subjunctive

5) Send out graduation announcements

6) FINALS

SO I'VE BEGUN TO DREAM ABOUT THIS SUMMER

I shall read only novels until the end of August! I hope you, my friends, will send me a couple of suggestions. Here are a few things I know I want to read.

1) The Silmarillion

2) Dante's Inferno

3) A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

4) The Little Prince (again)

5) The Chronicles of Narnia (I think I've only read 3)

6) Harry Potter 6 and 7 (again)

I will have to be thinking about what other titles to add to the list. Okay, I better get back to work. I'm at Starbucks in West Village.

Come home, Alyssa!

2009-04-04T15:33:00.005-05:00

What a lovely afternoon it is! Today I find myself between job interviews, stationed at Crooked Tree Coffeehouse, writing a comparison of the Republic and Utopia in my thesis.

I made this short video for Alyssa the other day, and thought I should post it for her enjoyment.

My thesis is going well, I hope to wrap up this section today or tomorrow. I need to make some headway on a Love Poetry paper today and tomorrow, too.

While we're waiting for the video to load I will share something that I've been reflecting on lately that has brought me some joy. In one of my classes it is easy to become discouraged about the future of man. It shows me how dangerously connected to technology and how it handicaps us mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. It tells me that man is only concerned about efficiency, power, and money. It is easy to dispair when considering these things. Yet, my spirits are renewed tremendously when I see things like Spring Sing or my colleagues taking picnics, eating pancakes, and discussing poetry. Watching peers dance and sing reminds me that we still have some sort of spirit, some connection with folk song and story, some spark of creativity. For these I give all praise and honor to the Lord who puts dance into our step and song into our heart.

A Passing Thought

2009-03-27T11:51:00.002-05:00

I found a lovely poem today by Walt Whitman in Leaves of Grass that I would appreciate being read whenever I pass out of this life.

The Last Invocation

At the last, tenderly,

From the walls of the powerful fortress'd house,

From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep of the well-closed doors,

Let me be wafted.

Let me glide noiselessly forth;

With the key of softness unlock the locks-- with a whisper,

Set ope the doors O soul.

Tenderly-- be not impatient,

(Strong is your hold O mortal flesh,

Strong is your hold O love.)

Four Additional Pictures from New York

2009-03-26T22:08:00.000-05:00

Five Pictures From New York

2009-03-20T23:00:00.002-05:00

lovely, lovely days ahead

2009-03-20T09:43:00.005-05:00

Oh, job fair! I went to one yesterday and it was the PITS. Maybe something good will come of it. I know I need a job lined up for when I graduate in less than two months. I know the Lord has something for me. What I do not know is what it will be and what I will need to do to receive it.

Is it too dreamy to ask for a simple job that will work for me and what I want to do? I want a 9-5 that will facilate my higher goals for the next 1-2 years. I want this time to be an intense time of educating myself, throughout which I will stick to an intense, extensive reading list. If at all possible, I would like to have a job that will further my understanding of schools and the education system, i.e. teaching. But that is not my biggest goal right now.

While at university, I've learned so much and so very little. I've been introduced to many big names, big ideas, big questions. That is all a bachelor's degree is for, especially in the humanities: introductions. Now in a crowded room I could tell Kant from Hume. We've met. But still I do not know their hearts. I do not know their depths.

So before grad school, before career, before marraige and babies there is only right now, there is only my pursuit of God, pursuit of wisdom, enjoyment of my love, my life, and the clouds I sleep upon at night. Sprinkle my sidewalks with petals. I am in no hurry to be impressive. All I want to do is love and learn.

Four Pictures From New York

2009-03-14T02:19:00.003-05:00

Twenty Two

2009-03-12T12:42:00.002-05:00

LaGuardia Airport, Thursday, 1 pm ET

I've never written a blog in an airport before. Hooray!

Tomorrow is my 22nd birthday. I don't really have any plans. I think it would be nice to spend some time reading outside. On Saturday my roommates and I might do something and then on Sunday I'll go home to Cleburne for some birthday action, too.

Anyway. So. Have I grown in the last year? Yes. I have. In some ways I've proved myself, in some I've failed. I think my soul has grown some. In the last year:

@ I've thrown dinner parties and learned how to be a more gracious hostess, especially by oberving some of my favorite hostesses, K. Ruse and D.Kappellman.

@I picked up a new hobby, yoga, and went on a new adventure, Michigan.

@I learned how to speak a little more clearly to one of my heroes, Dr. Naugle.

@I allowed myself to be vulnerable and tell my story to a table full of friends and colleagues.

@I saw the last of my tuition at DBU be paid off.

@I came up with an original idea, or two. Yes!!!

@I grew super irritable and saw how irrational I can be. Meh.

@I suffered a tragic loss when my peace lilly died, and got over it. :)

There are many things I could list. Still, there are many more intangible things that I couldn't-- and those are the most important. Those moments that are so awesome that the awe seems to come from a mysterious, veiled place-- those are the best, and although I cannot write them all down or even know them all anymore, I know they happened. I know, somehow, I've grown. 22.

(Ooh, something cool Mitch and I saw yesterday in Times Square is that the 2009 ball is still there. I didn't know that the ball stays in place all year. Cool!)

Starbucks, Astor Place, Tuesay

2009-03-10T10:29:00.002-05:00

I would like to write a new post, but I think we are about to leave this Starbucks and go to China town. ALL IS going very well. Last night we had a blast splitting a pizza and some beers at Roberta's in Brooklyn. We let our imaginations paint fantastical dreams we typically do not voice. I am still on celebrity watch. No sightings yet, unless you count being at the Today show this morning. Meh.

I think some very important car is about to go by. NO! omg a parade!!!!!!!! WHAT!??!

WOW. I just saw a parade of thousands of tibetans protesting China's involvement in their country and the genocide there. Pictures to come.

NEW YORK IS SO GOOD WE'RE CRAZY!

2009-03-08T09:57:00.000-05:00

Update

2009-03-02T12:45:00.002-06:00

Quick update on my status.

Once again I would like to say that this blog has always been quite personal, meant for the enjoyment of myself and my friends and I do not claim to be an authority on anything, other than myself. Let us look at the evolution of the word "blog." What does it come from? Web log, of course. We all know that. Now, where does "log" come from? I do not know. BUT (see, I told you I am no expert) I do know that people, especially men, have kept logs of their activity for a very long time. Seamen used to do it. Maybe they still do. Anyway, since my first xanga (or was it livejournal? no. xanga) the intent has always been to record what is going on in life, for my own personal record, and to share these events and ideas with my friends. I just do not want to be grouped with my peers who have blogs so that they can have some sort of e-authority. Not me.

Anyway, I am just taking a short mental break from working on my thesis. This morning I completed the introduction. I am about to draft the next section, a brief introduction to the history of Utopic writing.

Oh, and I am in Waco right now, at Common Grounds,

Also, the Paideaia Conference has come and gone and it was completely wonderful. Plus, Mitch and I caught a show with the Ruse's in Austin. We saw Conspirare perform Rachmaninoff's Vespers. Perfection.

- June.

Ding!

2009-02-12T21:11:00.003-06:00

Oh man, am I baby crazy right now or what? Goodness, me! What a friend to have in a tiny hand, tiny heart! What breath of metaphysical newness and dew! Congratulations to the Ashbrook's and welcome to the world, Lara Elisabeth!

Bringing Forth

2009-02-05T23:43:00.003-06:00

My soul becomes three things in the evening when I am on my own:

melancholy, melodic, and, irritable.

In other news, what's going on with Obama lately? For some reason I cannot get hooked on his CNN coverage now that he's in office. It must be because there are just so many things that he is signing that I am not even attempting to keep up. I wish there was a twitter account with his updates in very basic terms and no links.

I had a great time chatting with Monica Hopkins tonight.

You know, I'm not sure how I feel about censorship. I really am not. Kyle Worley is presenting a paper on Platonic censorship at the Paideia Conference, so I think I will go to that and hear his argument. On the one hand, there should always be freedom to write and read the truth or poetry or whatever, but also we need to be wary of the power that literature and the arts have over the soul and mind. How are public schools to judge what ideas they are to keep away from their students? What implicit power do they have to take autonomy away from students and teachers?

What's got me thinking is word that CISD is debating banning Pillars of the Earth from the G/T, honors, AP reading list. I'll be attending the school board meeting on Monday evening in support of the book and the teacher who has been assigning it for years.

Brandeis

2009-01-29T00:00:00.002-06:00

Where will all the art go

and artists too?

When beauty is sold like

lima beans, like paper clips

When art is exchanged

for another month

afloat.

6 Credits

2009-01-23T23:07:00.003-06:00

Today I found out that in order to graduate I need to add six more hours to my course load. 21 hours in one semester, including my thesis. I am determined to graduate in May.

Tonight surrounded me with my Dallas family of friends. Going to Crooked Tree Coffee Shop is often like going home, if home were a grab-bag of family in which you never knew who you were going to see, except that you would certainly see someone and they would certainly be familiar. Tonight I saw some of the dearest of friends and it made me so happy.

The light still shines.

A Moment in the Head of a Graduating Senior

2009-01-21T18:51:00.004-06:00

I had about 12 dollars a minute ago. Since then I have purchased the new Bon Iver EP-- Blood Bank. In about 45 minutes I will drive to Starbucks and get a drink. Using my money wisely.

This beautiful track just started playing, "Babys". I bet this is one Mitch is in love with. It makes me want to weep and watch sun beams stream in through dusty window blinds.

Music is important. Words are important. Beauty matters. The good is real. God is real.

The mailman brought me seven books today. I start an intense reading schedule tomorrow.

I have three academic engagements to look forward to this semester.

One) I will give a paper at the Paideia Conference.

Two) I will speak on a panel of Faculty, Staff, & Students at this semester's Friday Symposium panel discussion entitled, "...until Divorce do us part."

Three) I will give that same paper to Doc Rose's DCM class in April.

The Lord gives and takes away. The Lord blesses and damns.

He Blesses Me. He has given me eternity.

Okay, "Woods" is the current track and it is blowing me away. Maybe this was the one, Mitch? You know what sounds like heaven right now? Laying down on the red rug in Mitch's room with my head on his chest, listening to this album play on the record player and examining our fingers in the light of the dying sunset.

BLTCP + OT

2009-01-13T23:51:00.002-06:00

I made this dish this evening. It is called BLTCP (bacon lettuce tomato cheesey pasta). The recipe is from allrecipes.com. Mitch said he liked it, as did I. I had to "cook" lettuce for it, something I had never done before. Using romaine and kale, I cooked the lettuce in the pot with olive oil. Smelled weird for a bit, but was quite good once it was done.

My apartment feels weird right now. Everyone is at a strange place in their lives, I think, or at least we are at strange places as an apartment.

I wonder if I could knock out the rest of the work for my Old Testament class in the next two days. I would like to try so that I can devote the whole weekend to my thesis. I'm ready to be done with this class, especially since over it hangs the death of our dear professor, Dr. Nkhoma.

Soup Kitchen

2009-01-12T18:21:00.002-06:00

Right now, I am in the kitchen making Zuppa Toscana and crescent rolls. No better time to write a blogpost, right?

I really enjoy taking a break from work and reading to be in the kitchen. I want to learn how to cook good food. Nicole makes this soup really well. Hopefully mine will turn out pretty tasty, as well.

So I'm a week away from the first day of my last semester at DBU. I'm excited to dive into my classes. I guess this is my last chance to prove my abilities and diligence during undergrad.

My thesis is taking shape as a thought-baby right now. I've picked my topic, ordered some relevant books, and started the reading. My goal is to work on it every day. I will be writing about the philosophies of education found in Utopias. I'm really excited about this; I've been interested in reading more about this for over a year.

Soup's almost ready!

Every Day.

2009-01-11T00:32:00.003-06:00

I want every day that I'm in Dallas to be as good as today. And they can be. Wake up. Breathe. Do good things. Love people. Think. Ask questions. Work hard. Relax. Solve puzzles. Make decisions. Decline offers. Wait for tea to steep. Laugh some. Think about colors. Enjoy silence. Listen to good music. Think about the past. Be in the present. Think about the future. Put my clothes away. Be aware of deadlines. Talk slowly and deliberately. Go to sleep. Dream in moderation.

The beauty of the Lord is apparent everywhere. This is a picture of my sister dancing in our backyard.

12/26/2008

2008-12-27T12:20:00.000-06:00

ooh had another minor meltdownee. all is good. post to come.

"Portrait of a Lady" -- T.S. Eliot (1917)

2008-12-22T22:02:00.003-06:00

I've considered doing a post every once in a while responding to a piece of poetry. In this one I do not quote the lines I am talking about, so I would love for you to first read the poem and then read my post, and then, of course, respond.

Favorite quote:

"-- And so the conversation slips

Among velleities and carefully caught regrets

Through attenuated tones of violins

Mingled with remote cornets

And begins."

Full Text

At first read, "Portrait of a Lady" tears me up. The image of the lady, late in years, sitting near the lilacs and forever serving tea is heartwrenching especially since she knows. She knows youth, learning, and friendship, yet she sits removed from all of those. Worse still is the I, Eliot or the speaker or whomever, who is so "self-possessed" that he possess (holds, binds) all life from escaping (flowing from) him. He smiles patronizingly as the lady speaks of youth and has politely barred himself from developing a friendship with her. He goes through all the motions of gentlemen and ends up empty. He forms no attachments so his life must be a "cauchemar," a nightmare, as described in the first part.

Upon my second read, I find such a strong and lively figure in the lilac-twisting woman. She praises friendship and intimacy and warns the speaker of what will happen if he continually refuses to be vulnerable, to have an Achilles heel. Inside, he is broken by her words and ashamed of himself (see him crawling on hands and knees in his mind), yet he does not know what to do in response. He knows he is a coward, but that knowledge does not give him the will to change.

I really enjoy the imagery that moves the poem from its beginning to its end. He speaks often of music, flowers, months, light, and darkness. I enjoyed how these were woven into the poem like harmonizing dashes of color in a painting. They helped me to orient myself, to see the poetry, and referred me to other ideas, images, and experiences that I had.

In the quote that I referenced at the top, Eliot illustrates how conversations awkwardly start up again just as that last part, "and begin" awkwardly inserts itself into the silence of the lines preceding it. Last week I learned that his use of grammar to create an image is called syntactic symbolism. Neat!

Overall, the poem speaks deeply of the necessity of friendship. I like how the intimacy of friendship is descibed as if it alone is capable of holding up something special, Chopin's Preludes. It is also interesting that the one who has a life without friendship is the one with the good life, in spite of the line about a life without friendship is a nightmare. He has his youth. He has tea time invites. He goes abroad. He is self-possessed, knowing all the right things to do.

Yet, the lady who has known friendship sits within the tensions of existence, trying to understand mysteries like how it is that youth is cruel and how friendships sometimes fail to form. She has to struggle but he gets to act matter-of-factly. Why? Clearly, it is she who has the better life, meaning that tension is a characteristic of being fully alive.

Despairingly, the speaker does not wake up from his nightmare. He does not come to life. Rather, he envies the lady who perhaps dies. He has self-possessed himself right out of living in this reality, clinging instead to the one which involves even less tension and struggle-- death.

Love

2008-12-10T12:35:00.002-06:00

Remember when Jesus was confronted by Judas and the outraged mob? One of the disciples cut off the ear of the servant of a high priest. Jesus explained that was not a good action and he healed the wound with the touch of his hand.

Today I reflect that excitable Christians often act as rashly and ignorantly as this disciple did. We too often strike before considering what the best response would be when confronted by an accusation, threat, or anomaly. We discount the value of other people when they are different. We consider ourselves better, and forget that we, too, were once enemies to God.

Yet, Jesus acts consistently in that his actions come from knowledge of His just and loving Father. He sees that what the mob really needed was love, not a retaliation.

In my reading today I am learning about a Christian art history professor at Wheaton. A discipline that he encourages us to develop is discernment. The disciple in the garden could have used a healthy does of discernment, and so could we all.

Let us search for the good in all men, and use wisdom and discernment to accurately assess what is evil, ignorant, and false.

To Do Today

2008-12-03T08:41:00.003-06:00

1 Dec. 08

2008-12-01T13:45:00.003-06:00

I need you so much closer. Ben Gibbard’s lonely love lyrics bleed through the white speakers placed by the illumined white crown molding in the corners of Crooked Tree Coffee House’s yellow room, my favorite room. Sunlight is pouring through the fully bared South window into the yellow room. It rolls over the blue, green, and yellow striped couch and reflects like heaven off of the wooden tiled table upon which I have set my vanilla chai tea latte. Outside, cars drive by slowly on Routh. The trees sway to the music. So come on---- come on------. The multitude of limbs are fraught with eager branches encased in the foliage of their dark red leaves. Red is everywhere. Red are the leaves and the lights. Red is my love for you and every beautiful thing I see makes me love you, and God, that Great Mystery, more than I can say. Red are my lips and the Dallas paintings on the wall. If I had the income, I would purchase the largest painting, not for the sake of its size, but because of its scope, because of the thick red stripes painted across the reflective water near the Old Red Museum. Remember I said that I would like to go there with you? Yes, I think that would be nice. In the painting the clouds are dark purple.

I love you like the perfectly curled scrolls on the eclectic bronze lamp to my right. I love you like the hints of dark blue in the bubbly azure glass of the lamp on the corner table. I love you like the sun hitting the oatmeal woven rug. I love you like the red leaves waving, waving, waving. I love you like familiar harmonies and our secret stories and characters that sneak across my mind and call me away from my writing. I love you like mathematical perfection. I love you like the twelve basic colors. I love you like warmth.

I love you through your writing. I love you through your poetry. I love you in the rhyme and meter of your breathing. I love you in the green of your eyes. I love you in your fastidiousness. I love you in your laugh and in your strength.

I’ll love you in the rain, in this thick sunshine, in the pines, in the hills, in the city, down the sidewalk, down the lane, in the dance of falling leaves, in the sigh of falling snow, in the gasp of flowers blooming, in the hot relief of summer.

Conversation and thoughts. All around me are people working. People. Good and loving and working people. People with ideas and passions and responsibilities. And today they are all beautiful. Especially the ones whom I keep distracting by looking up at that huge painting that is hanging on the yellow wall behind them. Oh, life! It is good.

In Order To What

2008-11-25T15:19:00.002-06:00

John Dewey, in Experience and Education said that what we gain in education that is fundamentally important for the future is enduring attitudes i.e. likes and dislikes.He says that our learning is so compartmentalized and cut off from experience and the whole of things that we end up forgetting it because we've not learned how it connects to anything else. So we are without references that point us to re-using what we once learned. The thing that is generally lasting is attitude formation. He says, "The most important attitude that can be formed is that of desire to go on learning." He refutes the idea that education is for preparation for the future. I wish someone would have told that to the guy who sighed and did the crazy gesture when I told him my post-graduation plans (or lack thereof). Dewey says that the best thing we can do is suck as much knowledge and experience and whatever-it-offers out of each present moment. That act in itself will prepare us to continue doing the same good work in the future.

Weekend Update

2008-11-24T22:50:00.002-06:00

This weekend was good and wild. I'm continually entertained with Mitch's antics when he comes up here. It was great to see him. We saw so many people together, too. I went to a couple of the DBU homecoming events. I'm betting these are my last ones to go to. Too bad they were also my first. The Rogers and Hammerstein performance on Friday night was enjoyable, except for the fact that the concession stand was open (in the Burg) and they were selling odiferous popcorn, which really cheapened the nice event (the "Homecoming Gala"). Sunday was a blur with good familiar faces, drinks, laughs, and good conversation between intellectual friends. Saw a jazz band at the Winedale toward midnight. Amazing. I love Dallas. Praying about my future and trying to scope out a place to live and friends to live with. Good to know: can always rent a room in Professor X's extra rooms.

Women

2008-11-22T18:42:00.003-06:00

Two stereotypes of women continually come up:

1) a woman is good and strong and supports her husband via the old "behind every good man there's a good woman"

2) women are fickle and superficial. they aren't too be taken too seriously. they're pretty (or not) so just put up with them.

Here's two things that I dislike: extremism and over-generalizing. This problem has do with generalizing. Women are different. They might have been created in a certain way by God, but we aren't all the same. We aren't all strong and we aren't all fickle. We aren't always whatever we are. I do not feel like men are always lumped into one idea, neither should we be.

What do you think?

A Senior

2008-11-20T08:02:00.002-06:00

Most people are more excited about my graduation than I am. In the uncoming month of May, if all goes well, I will graduate. What does this mean for me? What does it signify that I have done? Who am I now that I am soon to tuck this accomplishment into my belt? What have I learned?

Surely a change has taken place which cannot be denied. I have fallen in love. Yes, I have fallen in love with Bach, violin concertos, and Eric Whitacre, not to mention Sigur Ros, Leslie Feist, and folk music. I have come to know and adore Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Descartes, Hume, Kant, Heidegger, and Rousseau. Inquiries into metaphysics, epistemology, aesthetics, political philosophy, educational philosophy, ontology, cosmology, technological philosophy, and logic have all wooed me with their sweet questions and promises of something good and true and beautiful. I've become even more enamored with a shutter clicking, a coffee pot dripping, a pot steaming, and a pan sizzling. I love poetry more now that I've received letters from Whitman,Wallace Stevens, Sylvia Plath, Ben Johnson, Baudelaire, John Donne, Octavio Paz, T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, and the Beats.

Somehow, I've found a sense of place. A sense of belonging. I have nestled in the city of lights and grounded myself in the country of bluebonnets. I've seen my poetry sing itself through microphones in Austin and Dallas and around rooms filled with poets, poets, poets. The kneelers at my church are a welcome platform from which I petition and pray. A community has risen up around me in every direction. No matter where I go I'll either see a friendly face or make a new acquaintance, for I've fallen in love with meeting new people and asking them questions.

Questions are indeed how I orient myself now. The best way to start the day is with questions. Lord, what would you have me do today? What shall I wear? What shall I do first? What is that? Why does this happen? What should I read? How shall I love? It is with questions about philosophy and education that I have spied what I hope to make my life's work.

perhaps some more words later. class is over. haha, yes i wrote this in class. yes i know that considering the topic of the post that might be ironic. eh. i guess i've also learned that real learning happens outside of the classroom.

Leaves & Straw Wrappers

2008-11-19T21:09:00.002-06:00

guitarra picking notes notes
yellow orange brown
leaves gently float float
in a terrific tiny tornado
down on the street street
the leaves they dance
to the music, to the beat beat.

my mind's always a stir stir
the calendar disorganizes
life past and future's a blur blur
the present's a whisper, a ghost
a fading note of clarity

let me be a leaf
on the breeze breeze
and feel my dreams
in these these small hands
God! let me fly away!
and really be alright right here

right here, Lord... Lord, here.

Love Poems by An Old Woman

2008-11-11T12:50:00.004-06:00

Your Eyes Are Everywhere

gently falling leaf

has fun all

the way

down

lovely lilting voice

drops & rasps

with age

bones sink

hair diminishes

My love,

your eyes were once

green like clover,

and I saw them

every day

in the grass

in the forest

and I sensed them

every day

like mint leaves

cilantro, limes

and I valued them

every day

over jade jewels

over time, money.

faded, now squinting

yet still, my heart, I love them

softly gazing on

liveliness poured out rightly

and color poured out

into the eyes of a son.

The Virtue of Forgetting

Desparate, I strive for

The virtue of forgetting

As my hair turns white

And my arms are cold

For all day I dream

And still all night I remember

Green leaves and kisses

Continuously they play like films

Or like children on a well door

Or children in a graveyard

Like we did in the forest

But let me please forget

Let that be my stripes

That excitement and love

are naught

and my daily grays

and made bright whites.

That I may not know,

No, to not know. Forget.

*constructive criticism welcome this time!

BIOLOGY + SARA

2008-11-04T09:18:00.002-06:00

Steam!!!!

Man. So I really felt like I was on top of this Biology Unit. I made great outlines (with pictures) of both chapters. I went to every class and took notes. I printed out the powerpoints from class and filled in the lines beside each slide with information from 1) my notes and 2) my outline. Now, twenty minutes after handing it in I feel terrible. The only thing I feel victorious about is that I did not cry! What a dork am I!!!!

This morning my alarm went off at 5:30 and I was at Starbucks in my blue button up (Obama-Biden 2008!!!) and all Pretty Tuesday-ed up by 6:05. They graciously gave me a free coffee for having voted (last Tues.). I stayed there studying until 7:30. I was in my seat at a quarter till. An hour later I walked out of the lecture hall and banged my notebook against my head

BIOLOGY + SARA = TRUE LOVE NEVER EVER

video from Starbucks to follow later. Now-- class.

Crooked Tree is Playing Damien Rice.

2008-10-30T16:02:00.004-05:00

I know how lucky I am. Or at least I think I know the extent of it. It is more than possible that I overlook things I should be grateful for, but I am sure of one thing: I am thankful for Mitch.

Let me tell you about him. He sings in the car. He spends several long minutes deliberating over how to phrase the smallest bit of written communication. He has known exactly what he wants to do since his freshman year in high school and he doing it. He dances (with me or by himself). He writes me letters.

I love watching him just be. I love that he called that first vanilla chai we had "heaven in a cup". I love how he started thinking of things as adventures because he knew I would enjoy it. I love that he is passionate about the law, about the Lord Jesus Christ, and about music.

And I enjoy what we are together. I enjoy speaking with someone so intelligent and also so distinctly authentic. I enjoy choosing wines together. I enjoy sipping coffee with him and reading articles.

A few years ago who would've believed ago that the guy who was so serious and the girl who was so crazy would find a home in each other? I wouldn't have. I didn't see it coming but I am so thankful that it did. God is good.

Without Pretenses

2008-10-29T23:02:00.002-05:00

Some people feel like they are completely in control of their lives.

Some people act as if they are completely controlled by their lives.

Yet, as it is the tendency for extremes to be incorrect, neither of these extremes can be true.

We cannot control all that comes at us. Sometimes we cannot even control ourselves, though one wishes that would be a rare occasion. It is just as true that outside pressures and events cannot not be blamed for the outcome of lives. Rise above circumstances we must. Let us flee from excuses and every day embrace the grace of God and try to do-- good.

2008-10-23T20:56:00.001-05:00

Foreign Policy

2008-10-15T22:45:00.002-05:00

As a kid, and still to this day, I was always a big fan of "if you just ignore them they'll stop."

Tell me what that means about my foreign policy.

Do I think I am more resilient than the outside? How would I be different if I thought I was stronger than the outside? What about if I thought I could take the opportunity to teach them? What if I acted upon it as if it were a catalyst for witnessing?

notnotnotnot

2008-10-14T23:33:00.000-05:00

Here's proof that we invest more thought in things than those things rationally merit. When a cake falling brings down your day. When that meeting with someone you respect is awkward, rather than whatever you expected it to be, and you question all that you are. When that one gesture would have made things all better. Sure. We know that cakes often fall, and assuming guilt because of it isn't rational. And we know that there are several things that can make a meeting awkward, least of all your entire life plan. And no gesture is ever the thing you really want, it is all those things that it might symbolize. All those things that you packed into the insignificant act of saying “thank you.”

Despite the obviousness of our irrationality when it comes to expecting too much out of something or seeing greater things than can really fit in such a tiny, tiny package, we still do it. We know it is silly. We know it was only a means to an end and what we are most upset about is that we never got that end.

What do we do to get it? If that one thing that we packed into a smaller thing is so clearly just a symbol, why do we not move past it and get to what we really want? Say if baking that perfect cake represented your competence in the kitchen, plus the ability to make a dessert both your boyfriend and his mother would like, plus silencing his dad's grumbles about “coulda helped out more in the kitchen,” plus the salvation of a bad day, why not see the cake for what it is-- a trickly little pastry, and actually get to those things you actually wanted. Get those kitchen skills, delight your boy, prove your helpfulness, find peace at the end of the day, but store it not all in a cake.

If I were to take my advice, I would stop over-analyzing situations so much. I would be more honest with myself about what I expect from people. I would feel less guilty about things I can't control, like cakes, and perhaps more guilty about the things that are in my power, like keeping my cool and communicating my thoughts and feelings.

Blog from October 11th

2008-10-14T23:32:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a contemplative day, as well as a great finish to the “work week.”

So as to follow the request of a friend, this blog will not be long.

Have I told you that I write articles for a newsletter-turned-journal called “Pop Culture and Faith”? This is my second year to write for it. I'm currently working on a 7-10 page essay about engaging culture as a Christian. I thought it would be simple. It isn't. I've run into so many snags and total messes in this article. It seems muddied and bland. My confidence as a writer has taken a hit. In addition, I am more confused about what I think I believe than ever.

More than anything, I want to make sure that when I am writing about what I believe I am doing just that. I do not want to write what I think I should believe. There are ideas about worldview that I think sound great, but I'm not sure that my heart and mind operate on those ideas. Do I really view the world through the Biblical narrative of Creation, Fall, and Redemption? It is a great idea, but is it my REAL worldview?

How do I know what I really believe? Dr. Naugle said it will show through my words, actions, goals, priorities, etc. I'm just throwing these questions out into the universe right now.

Anyway, road tripping to Austin with Mitch was then getting dinner with Mary and Tiffany was lovely. The Mediterranean festival downtown was also quite interesting. I made a friend! He was three and wore a turtle necklace.

A Loud Slurp

2008-10-14T22:06:00.001-05:00

That's Just How I Feel About It.

2008-10-09T22:47:00.002-05:00

Something Sarah Palin said the other night during the VP debate has been bugging me. You know I'm undecided still. Okay, maybe you do not know that because of my previous incessant blogging about Obama. I understand how you might not be quite clear on the fact that I am, indeed, still undecided. Anyway, I've watched all three debates so far looking for Mr. Right. I watched Palin have at it with Biden to see if she exuded competency and sound reason. She was composed and some degree of authentic. But once, she muttered something along the lines of "It's all going to be okay."

Hold it right there. I'm a big proponent of "It's all going to be okay" in individual situations. In that way I'm quite a fatalist and am resigned to thinking that things work themselves out and no matter what I can just be content with what God hands to me. Fate. BUT, on the larger scale--- NO! You are a statesman (eh, politician) to DO things. To fix! To legislate! To create! You cannot just smile, and think "shucks. This economic crisis sucks, but if I just sit back and ride this ticket to the White House, SURELY things will all be okay."

I know I'm exaggerating. But someone in a necessarily active position doesn't get to be a fatalist. I do. You do. Not them. They HAVE to be movers and shakers because that is what they signed up for. Otherwise, it is not going to be okay.

feather poem

2008-10-08T17:49:00.000-05:00

Airplane floating by

floating. Bye bye.

Like a feather

floating by.

Airplane take me with you

take us with you

bye bye

take me with you

like a feather

floating by.

I don't know what I will do.

I don't know who I am.

Where is who I was yesterday?

Where did I go?

bye bye

Where did I go?

like a feather

floating by.

My hands are pregnant

with deeds I could do

My face is aged

too early too soon

by and by

Energy I have it

have it here somewhere

I'm not dead, yet.

I'm like a feather

floating by.

dumb story

2008-10-08T17:45:00.000-05:00

I started tieing a matching ribbon in a bow around my ponytails in the eighth grade, even though that trend began and ended the year prior. Not only was I too late to catch the trend, it didn't even look as cool on me. Some girls just pull off bows better. Even though I persisted in wearing them, and though “friends” told me they “missed” wearing ribbons, I felt dumb for imitating the trend past its expiration date.

Shorter Posts Starting Now

2008-10-05T19:16:00.002-05:00

October is becoming my new favorite month. September I love because it brings a time for celebration for Mitch and I (two years!), and because it is gently cooling into a snappy Texas autumn. Yet, its temperature changes are often quite erratic on this side of the Panhandle. October, though it does warm up a bit on crazy days, is typically more steady. Tonight we smelled the rain gathering in the sky. Tomorrow will wake up crisp and dewy.

Sunventure

2008-09-29T22:47:00.001-05:00

JazzyJazzyJazzyBlues.

water reflections

2008-09-23T19:49:00.002-05:00

Tonight the sun sank down in violet blue water, behind the yellow lights on the horizon. Evening sky sings like a clear alto melody; strong and beautiful. Beautiful like a sister, like a poplar, like a tear, like deep breathing.

I will reflect a bit with you my friend. My friend I will think and dream and murmur laughs with you. Let us take some moments to dip our hands in the cool memory waters, press flowers of contentment and regret into closed chapters of voluminous journals. We will love each other, my sister, my brother, with every careful display of the past. Your welcome reception of my raw vulnerability will crush me with its swift and powerful wave of love. How I will adore your fragile knees and we will shake our heads. Shake our heads. Oh! We will shake our heads, so slow, so truthfully, at our past immaturity. Our ignorance. Our terrible terrible.

How glad-- how glad does the light of God make your heart? Does it fill you up anew? How glad does it make you? How glad?

five minutes more

2008-09-17T00:56:00.004-05:00

I. Tonight fills itself with the study of linguistics. I am enjoying the ideas and information. The thought about a people defining a dictionary, which is usually considered (albeit slightly in error) to define words, was really interesting because looking at it that way returns language to this beautiful, organic, and even supernatural phenomenon that we shape and live in. We sometimes squirm around in it awkwardly, soar on its poetry declaring love and beauty, retreat to it when matters need sorting out, dance on it in the rhythms of music and intensity. Do we not also inflate it with evil and coarseness? Do we not often take elite words and drag them down into the mundane? Do we not war with it? Oh, language! Who will defend you?

II. Finding one's identity in God, in who he is and who he makes you essentially be, is invaluble and necessary for peace. Otherwise, we are defined by changing things, like ourselves and the reactions of peers and strangers. We either cling to his immovableness, or are blighted from all sides with totally random events that lift us up or bring us down. Our minds are so fallible! So often deceived! We know so little about the world, about others, about the inner workings, about minutia, about ourselves. Yes, it might be and probably is that we know hardly anything about God. But let us never doubt that he is forever the same, forever just, and forever loving. When He loves us, we are more than minds, more than bodies, we are souls lifted up, and saved.

five minutes of freewrite

2008-09-14T09:40:00.003-05:00

Today is one for recovery. To the south, my neighbors are returning to their homes, cringing with what they might find. Do I have any idea what that would feel like? No. And I pray I never do. Hopefully, Mitch's grandparents' home is okay. I would never want to see the looks on their faces if it was badly damaged.

Crying is such a natural thing and it is good. I know God's thoughts are higher and more eloquent than this, but I can just imagine him creating mankind and thinking, "They must have some way to shed their excess anxieties and sadness. Some natural catharsis. Some satisfying release when life breaks their heart. Some act that postures them toward repentance and reconciliation. Something that keeps them real."

Today I will go to church at Incarnation, after a brief reading stop at Crooked Tree Coffee House. Alone, I am still great company, but I do wish for Mitch, as well. He enhances every activity. He makes things more beautiful. Yet, for as little wisdom as I do possess, I know for sure that this period of letters, phone calls, and long distances is sweet, sweet indeed. How he reminds me of the steadfastness of the Lord. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Flux

2008-09-11T23:58:00.003-05:00

Wonders on this day I see--
Birds bright blue no scarcity
Fowl with wild plummage plum
Doves who speak, no longer dumb

Bewilderment as they synchronize
their kamikaze swooping dives
They fall like bombs upon the ground
Grounded exploding birds abound

A parade of color, spark, glamour
A lulling noise from the clamor
Swiftly swirled across the earth,
Sound of rustling, sound of mirth

Lighting makes a transformation
From birds into a new creation
They become golden autumn leaves
A plethora scattered as they please

Underfoot they crunch like eggshells
Like stained glass and tiny tin bells
Into shards they then shatter
Quickly rejoin; no tear or tatter

Wild dance of crinkle leaves
Fallen premature off trees
Swiftly circling up around
Small cyclone on nearby ground

From the funnel steps a boy
leading lions leading boys
Away they leap into a hill
Then, great wonder! All is still

Is it many? Is it one?
Is this all? Is there none?
I praise God-- epistemic bliss!
Change be not so random as this

Charmless Dolt

2008-09-08T23:12:00.003-05:00

Today a young man walked into Crooked Tree who was absolutely without charm. His assessment of the menu hanging above the cash register was brief. He assaulted the Chai by flippantly speaking of it and then throwing it out. Then, still charmlessly, he questioned which type of chocolate was in the hot chocolate. WHAT? You crazy boy defunct of cheer and charm! Stop your silly questions! Then he just got the cider after his question about the type of chocolate was not answered to his satisfaction. To give him the benefit of the doubt, I later directed a question his way about his small computer. He just told me it was a Dell. What a dolt.

According to Victorian ideals, this is when he stumbles upon an innocent and sweet girl who makes him morally better. Eh. Good luck

Love with Clark and June

2008-09-07T13:32:00.005-05:00

It Didn't Rain Today

2008-08-18T22:47:00.002-05:00

1) Can you believe that tonight I will begin to pack my suitcase in anticipation of my departure on Friday?

2) Thoughts and feelings are like sand. They have characteristics of being real, but you cannot hold on to them. Pack them together as hard as you might, and still they evade permanence through the cracks between your fingers.

3) I am in love. Love is all you need.

Angie Jolie has the most beautiful face I've ever seen.

2008-08-10T18:29:00.008-05:00

A List of Other Beautiful Women:

The woman at the D.I.A, pictured above, in front of a mural by Diego Rivera.

Peggy, my yoga instuctor, picture to come when the next film is developed.

Stephanie Cease, for always living joyfully, while remaining genuine at all times. There she is second from the left, three years ago.

The artist lady at Bible Study and Dostoevsky group. She speaks like rubies and diamonds shine-- beautifully.

My mother. Just look at her. Momma gives me unending encouragement, advice, knowledge, and creative freedom.

My Granny, pictured here with my youngest sister, Jade. She is the biggest constant in my life and her house is my safe place. I've had more dreams that take place in her home than any other location.

Incredibly, there are many, many more beautiful women in my life, but I need to get ready to go now. My friends and I are actually going to this little cafe called The Raven tonight in Port Huron. I'm looking forward to it.

A Few More Things About Michigan

2008-08-06T22:12:00.004-05:00

Here I am at the Detroit Institute of Arts!

1) I'll be home not next Friday, but the Friday after that. Can you believe that?!

2) There is no night time speed limit here. You go the same speed at night. This is what is posted:

Speed Limit
Truck Speed
Minimum Speed

It is pretty neat that big trucks have to go slow. Makes things nice.

3) Whoever first said that the moon is made out of cheese is a really funny guy. Tonight it looked like a strangely cut crescent shaped slice of sharp cheddar.

4) There has been lightning for hours now.

5) It is still IN THE MID-EIGHTIES! Today, at the beach, I never felt hot. Never.

June's Next Two Years

2008-08-04T21:43:00.002-05:00

Okay, what do you think about this:

This year I wrap up my baccalaureate at DBU: Major in philosophy, minor in English. I take the GRE sometime soon, one of my first weekends back in Dallas, hopefully. Now even if I'm not planning to go to grad school next fall, but two years from now, do I go ahead and get letters of recommendation? What would they do with them? Maybe not, because I could always have my professors write them to include whatever I end up doing in my time off? Is that right?

Next summer I volunteer with Mary somewhere we can really help people/animals. Possibly South Africa where she has friends doing work with HIV/AIDS clinics. I'm not ready for this to be my last summer of adventure, even though it has been quite challenging to be away for this long.

Next fall I move in with a friend (could this be you?) somewhere in Dallas, work at some kind of preschool, and enroll myself in an Alternative Teacher Certification program. There are approximately twenty programs in the area. I'd like to stay in Dallas so I can keep up with Poetry Night and the groups at the Veritas house. Those are communities that leaving would cause my heart to break a little. Plus, I love my church. And why would I want to miss out on Evan's fabulous parties? Otherwise I'd be up for a move to Austin, and yes, even Waco. I really doubt I could keep up rent plus all my other bills alone, though. I need a roommate. One.

While I am taking my year off from school I can brush up on the philosophers I didn't get to: Hegel, Schopenhauer, Marx, etc., and of course, more Heidegger. I can also do some Rosetta Stone Latin, because I haven't started learning either classical language. I polish up my wriing sample and get letters of recommendation. I apply to MA and Doc philosophy programs at schools A, B, and D.

Fall of 2010 I have my Teaching Certificate, great. I've found a job at a public school and I'm happily teaching, and I'm going to school in the evenings at whichever place was gracious enough to let me in.

I just wanted to get all of this out of my head, and my journal doesn't count because it's an extension of my head. This is for real.

Conceding Faith

2008-07-30T20:56:00.003-05:00

I believe that there is an authority that is greater than reason, and that is God. The mysteries of God shine a light on the humble situation that is the human intellect. Man's frustration in this matter and his oft-covered over, but nevertheless, insatiable appetite to know point toward the boundless nature of being, and that who is Being, God. No matter how much I read about philosophy and the history of knowers, and in the face of every rationalization about how man needs myths to comfort him, I take peace in the omnipresence of the gap between reason and faith and continue to take the leap.

A Gentleman and a Scholar for President

2008-07-24T22:43:00.003-05:00

One, I like Obama more and more all the time. I enjoyed reading this article about Obama's relations with the uber-conservative law school at the University of Chicago. It was cute to see how the academia were trying to seduce him to forgo the public life in favor of the armchair and lectern.

Today I realized that I have four more weeks left up here, when I thought it was three. Truth be told, I was disappointed. Three weeks sounded good.

Happy Birthday, Frauke

2008-07-22T22:51:00.003-05:00

photo courtesy of bloomberg news

Goodness, gracious! Look at Hurricane Dolly coming for Brownsville and Matamoros. I hope everyone is working on becoming safe and secure and that my friends and their families are making efforts to stay dry. Happy birthday today to my Grandpa in Georgia and to Frauke, my employer.

Water is the most incredible thing because we are so intertwined with it, being mostly composed of it, depending on it for our life and the life of our environment. We draw to it for entertainment, and enjoy the weightlessness of being immersed in it. And then there are hurricanes, monsoons, and tsunami's and we recognize how water has the power to destroy us. Josh just wrote a very nice poem comparing friendship to water.

Though it is many months old (years? hopefully not, cannot remember) Damien Rice's album 9 continues to impress me. From the first time I listened through it and still this evening, it seems to be the most tragic and poignant account of a breakup. He really captures all the little elements that make breakups so devastating. The first track, 9 Crimes, a dialogue, or maybe a two person monologue, of two people struggling to come to grips with their infidelity, guilt, shock, what have you, still chills me. Accidental Babies- brilliant (for what it is). Dogs- charming, at least.

I could go on about all the ways I experience this album and all that it has made me think about, but I will keep it short tonight, except to say that if I ever had to break up along the lines of the story in this album, I think I would just crumple up.

Oh, in case you were wondering, here.
My favorites are Indie, Estrella, and Mriana Triana.

One more thing, football is not that big of a deal up here. What? I know because Robert casually said that he doesn't like to watch it, and I made a big deal out of it before I even knew I had opened my mouth to speak, basically.

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Summer Time, The Living Is Easy

2008-07-14T22:05:00.005-05:00

All hail the power of summer-- its slowness, the way it desires to wake up lazily, how malleable each hour seems to be. Though, for most people, whose memories of such sweet summers have long since melted into nostalgia, summer is just a hotter version of every other season. There is just as much work to do. In Texas, the summer heat forces us to dash to the time clock more quickly, just to make the trip quicker from one AC to another. In Michigan, it means that road crews can fix the ice-damaged roadways, build bridges, and construct whatever else the six months of winter prohibited. Someday the workforce might engulf me and steal away my summertime, but now I am trying to realize how good I have it.

I have two weeks (last week and this one) free from employment, roommates, Dallas traffic, the Southern sun. As for the recent scandal in my apartment, I was still relatively free to not live in the midst of it. I am stress-free, and have recently taken up yoga. Still, I've let myself get bored one minute, and lazy the next.

Thoreau said, "As if you could kill time without injuring eternity." A few years ago my inspiring friends and I drank up the words of Thoreau-- a life giving potion awakening us from our adolescent slumber. All my life I treated the idea of eternity like a family member-- someone I spent so much time with and knew familiarly. But, also like a family member, I actually knew so little about it, and took it for granted.

When you're a Christian and have been promised eternity ever since promises held any weight with you, death seems like a mere pause between now and forever. Everything moves slowly, like a perpetual childhood summer. One has time to wait for months, and even years, to see what exactly "God wants" for you. One pretends death can be written off by saying, "Honey, just stick me in any plywood box and plant me in the back," as I've heard my step-dad say in so few words. Time means nothing when you never consider running out of it.

And then, ever so suddenly, death crept up on me, and reminded me of its realness. Almont is a small town. One could walk anyplace in town within minutes. It is enjoyable. A few days ago I just so happened to be driving, which all the time seems to be increasingly wasteful, to the Rite Aid. It is a minute's drive if the stop light catches me.

The windows were down. I just passed for the third time a couple girls walking down the street, wearing fairy wings. Jason Mraz's acoustic "I'm Yours" was playing for the third time that evening. I thought about my film that was sitting in its plastic cylinder in the passenger seat, and the pictures it might hold. Hopefully the dandelions would be sharp and in focus.

I thought about developing my own film and the joy of controlling that process, and being intimate with my photographs, the thrill of really knowing them from conception to birth. And as automatically as swatting a fly I just said told myself no, I can't do that. I wouldn't be very good. Other people do that who have worked on it for a long time. Why should I expend my efforts on someone else's craft?

Of course I didn't say so many sentences, they are all mushed up into a feeling. You know how one word can mean a really large idea? Eh, those are mostly in other languages. But the basic idea is, that is not for me and what does it matter if I don't learn something I'm interested in? Somehow along the way, my idea for what my life should encompass stopped growing with me. Somewhere inside of me there is still a little girl who cannot play sports, and this idea of being completely talentless, and these elementary boundaries stop me from trying something new that I might really, really like.

There is so much out there that I want to know, and not all of it in books. I could still become proficient at a couple languages, teach my body a new rhythm to dance to, work out an illustration style, bend into impossible yoga positions, hanglide, train a dog, organize a charity, sail Mitch and I's boat (that we do not have, yet).

I will die someday, and it isn't just a pause in between now and the rest of eternity. It is the closing of a chapter, the end of my physical mortality. It is the end of my only chance to enjoy this great, great illusion and fill it with the things that seem the most real. It is the greatest divide, the darkening of all we know empirically.

It is not only people who live without faith that wander through life aimlessly. It is the one of the most common and miserable themes of many, many peoples lives, and it is partly because we are generally not attuned to death as we should be. For many people, especially those who cannot hope on our forever, death is too terrible and mysterious to think about. It is easier just to cover it up than to face its despair. And for others, it is too casual of a thing to hold meaning.

Heidegger recommends the life that is attuned (tensed) to death, like a bow that is taut, aimed at its mark. This does not dismiss the fact that what comes after death will be enjoyed, too. It will be glorious. But it does intensify the this life is the only one we get to live in this way, with all the pleasures of watching time go by, and waking in the morning to meet it again. In it we can witness the miracle of passing from ignorance to brilliance, from apathy to passion, from evil to righteousness, from selfish to loving.

Grace. Peace.

2008-07-14T22:01:00.001-05:00

look for the bear necessities.
the simple bear necessities.
forget about your worry and your strife

--jungleBook (disney)

So Far From Home

2008-07-05T23:30:00.005-05:00

Today was my furthest venture from home in Almont. Destination: Ann Arbor

More update later.

Edit--

Ann Arbor was really

Edit--

Would it be toooo much to ask to summer in Ann Arbor? Could I teach up here for a year maybe? Where are the fifteen lifetimes that I will need to live all the lives I dream about? In which one could I accept the offer to Aupair in Germany? When do I get to be a professor? A high school teacher? A Waldorf teacher? Man. If I were a cat...

Week Three

2008-07-03T17:35:00.003-05:00

How about a blog about how things have been going up in the North, sans metaphorical language? I thought so.

I have now spent two and a half weeks actually working. Two days of this week were freebies, one is tomorrow. Happy Independence Day, America!

One of my favorite times of the day is right before I wake the kids up. I make breakfast-- eggs, french toast, or cereal. All with orange juice, and sometimes bananas for Jacob and I. I like setting out three bowls, plates, napkins, glasses, and sets of silverware. Flipping eggs and french toast is quickly becoming second nature.

Never before have I seen kids who are so entertained by board games. It's heaven for me, though, seriously, because I never tire of them. We've played at least twenty games of Sorry and no less than fifteen games of Uno. We couldn't count the games of Connect Four.

The trees are beautiful-- dark, green, and so very old. The willow trees have impressed me. They are tall and their branches and leaves really extend all the way to the ground, draped like a quilt over the back of an old chair.

I've ventured out, talked to random people, laughed with strangers, talked softly with children. Once an old woman stopped me at Meijer, the big grocery store around here similar to HEB plus, convincing herself through talking to me that she should buy the book which the John Adams HBO special is based on. She delighted me.

Last night I had dinner for one at Victoria's. Chicken and orzo pasta salad. White Bordeaux. I love that word. Bordeaux. I think that is what I'll name my son.

We go to swim lessons. Play dates. Tutoring. Ice cream. The park. It really is cute. We argue, too.

Mitch talks to me at night, and when I can draw conversation out of him during the day on Google Chat. It is sweet of him to spend so much time on our conversations, because I really do need them. I need to hear him, and see how he is doing, but honestly, I just need someone to talk to, as well. The thing is, exam time is coming up for him, which means I can't expect so much time from him for our evening chats. So, dear friend, do you think you could call me sometime? I would really love someone to talk to, in between taking care of my two new loves (Jacob and Kaylin) and exploring small towns like Romeo and Oxford.

YES!

2008-06-27T23:27:00.001-05:00

I think I just came up with a plot.

On my own.

After High School / Before This (Whatever This Is)

2008-06-24T22:24:00.007-05:00

I) Minus The Bear is playing. Bamp, bamp! (keyboard). "...holding a vodka drink,smoking a cigarette, she's walking up to me..." I am not exaggerating when I tell you, half-embarrassed, a bit gleeful, and finally quite accepting this brief blip in my life, that every single time I heard their music during the summer and fall following my high school graduation, I said,

"This is such a perfect party band. I mean, it is exactly what should play at every party."

To my reason's defense, Minus The Bear's lyrics all sound similar to the cadence of inebriation in a backyard. The song titles are as impromptu as our ideas of mixed drinks were, and as abstract as the words puffing out of the mouth of smoker-friend-x who is rocking casually on the porch swing. Look 'em up. You'll see.

These nights were warm. It was summer first. Summer and what melted into a lethargic autumn. Our phones were electric as somewhere out in outer-space our satellites signaled that someone's back porch had an availability. Someone's house was saying, "Come ye, under-aged drinkers and take refuge in me." We primped and they purchased. Never me. Someone knew someone behind a liquor counter, you know? Someone always knows. Drifting inside in pairs, groups, alone, we were a stylish ensemble of slouch and straight hair and jeans that had been worn to perfection. Who put in Minus The Bear? Someone did, someone always does. It is perfect party music.

II)I wanted to know I was beautiful. We both did. We both were and are beautiful, and I love her more now than then. The past is in the past, in the present, and will be in the future. You cannot get rid of what has been. Being cannot expire if its essence, or at the very least, its effects ride down causal links into the unknown, into what will happen when we become aware of our pillows, sort through dreams, and face the new day. We stand on the ground of now, that grew out of the seeds and decay of the then, cultivating the ground-ness of tomorrow morning.

Josh Jiles Photog.

Problem and Resolution

2008-06-23T21:26:00.004-05:00

I) Do you ever feel physical manifestations of your guilt? First is the lightning crack straight through my head- leaving a fiery hole from the crown of my head to my spinal cord. My forehead and ears burn like crazy. Like a flame is being brought so close to my skin. My cheeks warm up and my jaw is locked into into its tensest position, though it is always a long time before I notice it and try to calm it down. And there is this weight? Pressing down on top of my head and shoulders, lightly burning, too. I feel cemented in a cage of worthlessness and shame. Agony. The despair is mine.

II) Listen. Listen to the dandelions and listen to the pink burning out of the sky. Listen to the golden yellow finch (I know you would like to see) brush its wings up and down. Listen to the gravel-- dirt and rocks under your old, black, rubber tires. Listen to the brakes of your car. Listen to jazz- moving like a wave of neon purple light in and out and around gleaming brass pipes. Listen to the strings buzzing and feathers falling. Listen to my breathing-- it is gentle. Listen to the kids laughing so hard that I want to cry; it's beautiful. It really is. Even if it is about the stupidest thing. The stupidest joke on the whole planet-- completely redeemed by the chortling music notes scampering out of their goofiest grins. Listen to the bug fiddling with your ear. Listen to the shhhcrunch of sheets, pillows, and blanets. Listen to an overture of summer rain showers. Listen to the thunder and the windows shutting and the turquoise breeze, straight off the top of Lake Huron. Listen to bells. Little bells.

Two Things About Last Saturday Night

2008-06-22T20:40:00.003-05:00

I) Finally, a little after half past ten, the sky had calmed down to a deep dark and the stars had consented to shine again. The moon appeared sleepily, drowsy from its awakening that was just a bit later than yesterday's. He is especially looking forward to the summer solstice, whisper the trees to me. Then, he can really sleep in. The moon always shows up, more or less, you know (except on his day off). At least he is consistent-- something you can always count on, like your birthday or the way the chicken will taste if it isn't quite done. One couldn't peg the moon as lazy, exactly, but he just pales in comparison to the productivity of the sun. That only matters, though, if one is given to valuing such traits.

II) Our turns were becoming more frequent, a sign that my new home was drawing nearer, pulling us around corners corners corners in order to eventually wrap us up inside its own corners. Dozens of orange streetlights glowed ahead in a shaggy field which was etched with nicely paved streets. It was a houseless neighborhood, the fouled up business venture some entrepreneur had eventually given up on. The sole house was the model home. Weeds were beginning to take over what had been prospective lots and the property had been foreclosed on. Still, at night, the lights shine on. Orange.

Landed in the MI

2008-06-15T23:11:00.001-05:00

whew

For a week or so leading up to my trip to Michigan, friends and family have all attempted to pull some indication of excitement from me. True, I did say that I was excited, but I never really felt it. It isn't like I regretted my decision. NOT AT ALL. It was just that I was never fully possessed by the rush of excitement. I knew to look forward to the the challenge, but my heart wasn't in it, until now.
The older, black, gentleman who sat next to me on our tiny NWA plane does not enjoy flying. "It's a necessity," he said to the back of the seats in front of us, "It isn't something you enjoy."
He mentioned rising oil prices, and the snacks and drinks that aren't free on the plane. (I definitely wouldn't have minded a complimentary vodka tonic. Too bad.) He said, though, that it was just out of the question to drive all over the country now, as he turned the wheel of an invisible steering wheel in front of him. His distant, dark eyes were trained on a dusty road ahead of him, steering a stylish station wagon with a couple cool cats to one coast or another in search of employment or nirvana.

"When you're young like you are, someone just says 'Hey! Let's get in the car and drive here!' Or, it's two in the morning and you decide to just go."

I smiled and shook my head to acknowledge I was guilty of that. It reminded me of some rather inspired nights in the Hill Country. This gentleman was obviously too wise for such inspiration, now. He was seasoned, and wearing a seersucker suit with light blue stripes. He read through the New York Times and a European financial newspaper. Posh.

He did remember to ask me, some time later, if I enjoyed flying. Emphatically, I replied, “I love it.” This was lost on him. I could tell by the way he nodded in the direction of the seats in front of us again. It's too bad, because I was actually fully engaged in the moment, breathless to be up in the air.

Later, as the sun was setting, far away, tucked between horizontal clouds of ember and fuchsia, I could not resist remarking in his direction, “We must be part of someone's sunset!” Unfortunately, his deep wrinkles must have soaked up the sound of my words before they could settle into his hearing aid, because he just “Ummphed,” in reply.

Secret adventure peeking in the sunset, alluding the day by a few stretches of yawning dusk memories, consider hiding somewhere where I might happen upon you this summer. Perhaps behind a sharp blade of blue grass, or under a violet pebble as heavy as the ocean at nighttime. Consider nestling inside a rusty locket, hooked to a charm bracelet spilling out of the mouth of a hot-breathed tiger. Perhaps grow inside of a poisonous mushroom, mistakenly knocked on its head by the unstoppable mighty movement of a charming bare foot running for Frisbees. Perhaps when I stretch my arms in front of my line of vision, grasping the sun in one fist—jumping, reaching for the firm tennis ball barreling toward me, you—new and secret adventure-- will settle into my grip instead.

Here comes the sun...

2008-06-07T12:54:00.003-05:00

summer two-thousand and eight

Did I tell you that most of my life is documented in diary entries, blog posts, and poetry? I, like most minute mortals have always been enamored with my own life, convinced that it is the most important life to me and the one that I am continually propelling through survival. My world revolves around me, like yours revolves around you. Substances and events only exist to me once they have effected me, that is, come across my portal of being. Nothing happens in my awareness without reference to me. Therefore, many day-to-days have been overly cherished in so many cursive letters in a dozen or so journals, both on and off-line. Yet, in being so wrapped up in my experience of living, I've also neglected to record many important parts of my twenty-one years and counting .

Is there ever a year for anyone when something momentous does not happen? It seems like for every year we've accomplished, folded up, and stored away there is a convenient life-change title to paste to the spine of it. Can there really be a life so monotonous and mundane and persistently boring that NOTHING stands over above the rest? Though most things that happen to us are insignificant and wisps of air in light of the enormity of time, especially considering the timelessness of the most real reality, to us there surely stands out one event that resonates the deepest on the harp strings of our finite existence-- one thing that stands itself up in the openness of truth and declares itself-- one thing to remember each year by.

I would like to confess to you today, dear electric diary, that I have developed a habit of "getting through". In the past few years I have experienced a handful of life changes. Nothing extraordinary or bizarre, these things are common to the academic or non-academic hardly-twenty-something. And though I've always most deeply experienced things through reflective writing, my prose has lazily slacked off in my increasing deftness to just get through-- to just transition, get through it, blah-di-blah.

Have I, Sara Triana, become just another drone who looks forward to the weekend? A Friday kind of person? This is a horrible fate, in my opinion, but one that I am not convinced I should resign myself to. It's a possibility, yes, that I could become someone who has so little passion for each new day that I perpetually look toward that false beacon of light and relaxation-- the weekend. Yet, this is merely a matter of attunement, which can be adjusted with a bit of effort and maybe a few more hours of sleep. "Getting through" things is such a cop-out attunement. It is a directedness toward nothing, an easy way to feel as if you are working toward some kind of goal. It is a shallow survivalism with nothing to live for. It is ignorance of purpose. It is apathy to things of essence. I know I don't really have to live like this. I know I have passion and love the adventure, knowledge, and whatever-else that can be dug out of just another every-day.

And yes, deep down, I know that my sloppy worship of God as of late could be a large contributing cause to this lack of reflection and that it can be remedied as quickly as a prayer that escapes with a single breath.

I know that if I want to be able to proudly label my years and feel like I have some influence on the momentous things that happen to me each year, I must tidy up my focus and get some things in order. Praise God that such a thing is possible, and furthermore, rather simple.

I say all these things with the intention to reflect on how I feel about my next adventure: moving to Michigan for the summer to be a nanny. I also intended to reflect on recent events, like finishing most of my major philosophy classes, realizing my academic passion, watching my boyfriend go to law school, and returning to Burnet for a visit. All of those things will have to wait for another day, though, for this post is already extending past the point of interest for most of my dear friends who read this.

But as for Michigan, may the Lord who is kind to me with ever increasing grace, grant the children who will be in my care a summer of learning, fun, creativity, rejuvenation, and love. May he grant their parents peace about the nanny of their children, and a memorable summer. May he grant me passion for teaching, playing, reading, and a simpler life. May he pour out patience, strength, joy, and success to my family, my beloved, and my friends who I will look forward to returning to.

Drat

2008-05-28T18:04:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow it will be a month since I last posted.

Talk about backsliding...

Review of a TV Series- Weeds

2008-04-29T09:23:00.002-05:00

Three cheers for the least idiotic show about marijuana to ever make it to the big time! Before I applaud 2007’s Showtime hit, Weeds, let me offer the most grandiose and sincere disclaimer: I do not in any way, or at any time have I, condoned, encouraged, or agreed with the use of marijuana for recreational purposes by anyone (least of all, myself), ever.

So, to continue with my praise and critique of the series: Hurrah! It is about time someone presented the growing social issue of the rampant use of pot in America, without including the stereotypical laughing stoners and Dude, Where’s My Car?-esque humor.

Jenji Kohan’s drama-comedy, Weeds, is about a suddenly widowed Californian housewife, Nancy Botwin, and the ripple effects in her recovering family and affluent suburban community when she begins to sell weed to keep up the lush lifestyle they are accustomed to. Three seasons have aired already, with a fourth due this summer, if all continues to get back to normal in the T.V. world. I hear those writers are getting feisty again, though.

Nancy Botwin is played by Mary-Louise Parker, whom I have always felt to be most endearing in her role in Fried Green Tomatoes, is the most compelling reason to watch. She delivers an excellent performance in every episode, offering the viewer an immersing look at the complexities of a woman worried by her children’s behavior in response to their father’s death, her own dealing with the tragedy of losing her spouse in the prime of life, the terrifying consequences of getting caught in the world of drugs, and making sure she does not lose herself in the tragic sway of life. She fights to not lose it, and the audience succumbs to her irresistible universality, and fights with her. She is vulnerable, but remains that woman with grit, with determination, with firm resolve, that we all know in our own lives and admire, no matter what level she descends to, because it is that passionately blazing resolve to survive, which is such a pivotal part of the essence of man that when we see it within her we recognize it like the back of our own hand, and desperately want to relate to.

The show is built around the character of Nancy, for good reason. If it were not for her strength of character, and the Nietzschean passion for life she exudes, Weeds would still be interesting, but only as one of those pictures of a world outside of ours that so many secular T.V shows are for Christians. We watch them to spy on the Other, to see what the world’s man is doing. But this show is more than a snapshot of another lifestyle; it is a passionate push to keep fighting in our own lives, to do what it takes, to settle not for resignation when life is painful, but to let one remain completely engaged in life, even if it tears us apart.

Morning Story

2008-04-09T21:51:00.005-05:00

Like the first star in the sky, I saw him. Not because he was a grand star, not even a star, metaphorically like a star. Like the most obvious thing in a vacuum of appearances I saw him and-- what was that sinking melancholy we felt when she was expelled and broken-- like the world was not right, not right but sinking, yes instead sinking into, what could only be called the mush pot?? When my beautiful goddess of a friend, the unbeloved, the cast-out stared with no eyes, no heart, no will and vanished into a pile of bones and blonde hair.

Yes, like that, but the cheaper version, like Pei Wei, like If-You-Like----You'll--love---- perfume, a commercial melancholy or a dull trip in a dull city. I saw and I felt. I exxxxxxxxperienced and I reeeeeflected. It could have been my imag-ination, but at least there he was in the probability of his appearance. He kept walking. Toward me to get past me. Big black eyes that I've caught several, several times, now shifted downward to scope out the weevils digging pyramids in the sand between the cracks of the sidewalk. Assuredly, his highness would rather have fallen down the rabbit hole of one of those minute pyramids than look at me. Me. My morning me. My fresh out of the lecture me. My pondering me. My galloping at the University me. and singing to the clover, running down the hill me. That me! Why the pyramids, oh Pharaoh, and not a nod at me? Why the dark of the ocean? The roar of silence? The unbearable stench of the pyramids and not a glance upward?

Hell, for a friendly bit of eye contact that says, "I see you. You are a person and I am a person. We are of the same ripe people." And that is all, a friendly sunbeam.

So offputting and disconcerting and bubblebursting was the ghastly interruption to my gaiety that my imagination shuddered and my hair covered my face to protect me. Perhaps it did not, but what is true, what appeared true, what I felt to be true was that I saw the Pharaoh and I wanted to step right in front of him. "Red light." AND immediately say in a voice that could command pirates on the high seas and sing to stargazers and inhale the adoration of cigarette smokers at a packed out blues-fest, as I manning the mike would say: "You shadow me in darkness and I think you are a gloom cloud. Yes. I think you are. I think you are the form of a gloom cloud. I think every malicious puff in the sky is a copy of a copy of a copy of you and we thought they were bad putting out our picnics and flooding our plains and turning over the seas and shutting us inside with people we hate, but you are worse, the worst, the black horse, the white horse, the red horse, the whore and the horse that she rides in on. You are a gloom cloud and hateful. I do not hate you, but I know you are a stormcloud and you will only ever storm.

The unpersonable should not be taken personally, but as a person, respectable and promising, with faltering potential, I protest that such philandering in my purest impressions on poignant mornings be prohibited.
Goodbye, I will say.

Then I will march onto the tips of the blades of grass and siddle up to the cherry blossoms and I will bury my face in the freshness of the earth and wait for the rain to subside. For certainly, if one kicks at the pile of ants and insults the Queen (God, Save Her), one will surely be smote.

Smote or smitten, at least I was once a kitten.

Reflections On a Night Well Spent

2008-04-05T19:05:00.004-05:00

Tonight I sizzle into a room, oblivious to the floor melting below me like boiling drops of maple syrup hot from the cast-iron skillet and cast a smoldering glance at what was a magnificent tree, now haphazardly whittled down to a dwarf chair, small enough to weep for what it once was, when it first sprang from the ground thin, like a tentacle wrapping around the air and the earth, and then when it shot up over night, in the glow of the harvest moon (just in from watching Chinese children play chess outside on kites), and then when it groaned into its manhood, shooting off shoots right and left-- shoot, shoot, shooo birds, it thought. Shhhhoooo, with your claws digging into me, painting me with your malignant defecation. Whisperssss shoo. Shoot. Shoot. The fatness of a tree trunk. The width of the world. The wonderful circles for every year. All's a circle. All is round. All is rhythm. All is love. All is one. Tree is chair. Sober is drunk. Happy is devestated and it all matters and it all does not matter at all, for after all everything's gonna be okay and all is decaying anyway. So the rush--why for? Soon though, the tree stout and tall and gracious welcomed birds like the street welcomes us at night after our parties. Remember darling your wild baboon dances that you decorated Wofford with. What a charmed street. Soon the birds were beloved by our tree and it hosted many a fantastic bird orgy in its maturing limbs. Limbs, not branches. Limbs, strong and passionately reaching up at the moon. Grabbing at it, clawing up toward it. Most think it is the sun that the tree arches upward toward. Lies, I tell you, and believe me. The sun might be his creator and lover, but the moon matters more. Moon, my man, it moaned, why have you forsaken me and look down with disappointment. Yes, old cat, I live older now, with black knots and way two many lovers' initials scratched into my body, but what say you? You hate me moon and you say I have lost my childlike purity. I have not! I have not!

Tree bellowed! The moon barely grimaced, too old to show its apathy at the whining of the tree. Trees always whine, too passionate not to.

Review- Stuff White People Like.com

2008-03-27T19:55:00.000-05:00

It nailed me! It really did. My eyes ran through the entire list and again, and again I sighed and thought that’s me. That’s me. Dang. Me. Me. Me.

I felt exposed and typical—a feeling no one, me included, likes to experience. We think we are each special, and then here comes Mister Satirical Blogger to shoot our authenticity out of the water.

A couple weeks ago, I was referred to stuffwhitepeoplelike.com by a friend, a white friend, who thinks the site is endlessly witty. He checks it everyday for updates. It is witty, no doubt. This humorous new blog is ragingly popular. Rumors have been running for the past few days about a $350,000 deal that the author of the website was offered to make a book of the same name. The Canadian blogger behind the site says that the essence of the blog is a scientific study of white people and the things that they enjoy. Hardly. Though I’m not on the up-and-up about the scientific community and its breaking news, I feel confident that the idea of this blog being scientific is as satirical as the content.

The blog has almost one hundred entries so far. One gets churned out every other day or so. The topics are decently well-written and hip-- Whole Foods, Not Having a TV, Gondry films, and T-shirts are a few. Posts range from things white people like to wear, like shorts on the first warmish day after winter, to things they like to do, like raising multi-lingual children or going to law school, to objects and people groups that they value and covet, like Asians girls and vintage anything.

Right off the bat, after having read a handful of posts or having scanned the full list, one realizes that this blog does not “study” all white people, at all. It primarily exposes typical young, upper-middle-class white people, the kind of people who care about things like organic cotton clothing, or getting graduate degrees in the arts for no efficient reason, the kind of people who would read this blog… and check it everyday.

Is it racist? That is the easiest question to raise about SWPL. And the easiest answer? No.

The blog, though written with an utter disdain for the consumerism and pseudo-intellectualism exhibited by this group of people, which is revealed in the praise of the topic-of-the-day and the bit of faux-advice about how to talk to white people about said topic in order to get in good with them, reveals a culture rather than spreads hate. It is a semi-outside look into their current obsessions. It hints at what these things mean about white people, but never casts an absolute judgment on them. For all of its eye-rolling, and the eye-rolling it causes its greater community of readers, it is thought-provoking. It causes one to reconsider the lifestyle choices one has made, through the eyes of someone less conditioned to think that those were necessary and important choices. Is organic worth the extra money? Is the good execution of an elaborate dinner party a matter of life and death? Are lawyers really a necessity for everyone?

In the wake of the increase of the conversation about race, much has been speculated about SWPL.com and its contributions to the discussion, and its effect on the way race is perceived. Little will be added to those ideas in this review, suffice to say that putting white people at the brunt of a type of joke usually aimed at minorities is only as fulfilling as the level at which the content is taken as humor. Extending the meaning to overly-transcendent levels is ridiculous and a waste of time. The content is not hateful to white, nor hateful to other ethnicities by way of drawing a contrast. There is not anything inherently racist about the blog, nor is it intended to follow in Senator Obama’s recent footsteps of showing whites to be in similar shoes as other minorities—whether by revealing their immigration hardships, or putting them at the mercy of a punch line, a place almost every other people group has been relegated to at some time or another.

The bottom and most simple line is that it is entertaining to consider how alike most young, Caucasian people with money are, when what it appears that they most want, is to be unique. We all push forward through life with a deepening understanding of our own capability to reason and hope that all of the choices we make separate us from the unreasoned paths of life that we could have been on. Realizing that one’s life is, to put it plainly, common, and that one can easily be typified into a group is startling, but beneficial. After a long consideration of this blog and a few laughs, the man who benefits from it the most will be the reflective man, who realizes with humility that he cannot escape his culture, and that his struggle to do so only intertwines him with his culture more and more deeply. Maybe that is not so bad. It can’t be if it’s inevitable. We cannot separate ourselves from the world we are born into. We work with it, laugh about it, and get on with our living.

How I Wish I Knew More

2008-03-19T22:13:00.003-05:00

Sitting in a class at Incarnation, my church, tonight, I found myself falling suddenly and swiftly with the most obnoxious slurp into a quagmire of questions and the overwhelming feeling of utter ignorance. I despaired.

The class is for "Inquirer's". Many might wonder what business I have Inquiring into Christianity, having been a believer for quite sometime. However, it is imperative to remind myself in true humility that I know nothing. What I thought I knew is little.

So tonight we learned about the Church-- universal, historic, and Anglican. Father Olver gave a fascinating lecture and at one point, speaking about the Roman Catholic belief in the transubstantiation in the Eucharist, he reminded of how much of the Church's logic was birthed out of Aristotle's metaphysics.

I departed from listening for awhile as I considered Aristotle, and how much I enjoy musing over his metaphysics, especially about how he emphasizes that every being is constantly moving, rushing, racing toward its telos, its final end. This fits so dynamically with Christianity, though I was reluctant to admit it. During my philosophy work at Austin Community College, I learned to have a great skepticism for how the Church has grafted Aristotle into their theology, as if A wrote it for them. Anyway, it does fit dynamically in with the telos of the Church, at least as far as we understand it. Consider how we pass through life with hope only in the final celebration at the end, when we are united together with our Lord. Consider our obsession with knowing God's purpose for our lives, or what potential he has laid into our essence. There are so many connections, most that I am unaware of for lack of study and concentration.

While I was happily pondering away, I realized that maybe one reason that I think that the two make so much sense together is that I was taught to read the Bible by the Christian culture that I was raised in that draws much of its foundational logic from Aristotle, and even recently I was persuaded that much of the New Testament, especially Paul's contributions, were all influenced by Aristotelian logic.

God! I just get so flummoxed when I begin to see all of my understanding about everything that I think I know as cultural conditioning! This is when I felt the squelching of the quagmire and my soul cried out, longing to know more, and purely.

No sucker when it comes to quicksand, though, I feel like I have returned to the stable shores of confidence in my ability to know. I realize that there is no way that I, nor the Church, nor the writers of the letters and books of the Bible can get away from our culture. We cannot be unconditioned. We cannot live in vacuums and void and think purely about anything. We cannot simply turn out the lights and begin at a Cartesian square one in our consciousness. There is no clean slate.

I cannot help my conditioning, but it can help me-- to relate to others, to understand much of what I experience. It gives me the power and tools to reflect. It gives me analogies by which to learn. It gives me patterns to mimic.

Surely God has made this a part of how we know what we know. Surely understanding our cultural influences and resting in our subjective cultural conditioning is a benefit that allows us to actually know him more, even when it seems that this convoluted way of knowing keeps me from knowing him and knowing what I know, at all.

gone!

2008-03-17T19:40:00.001-05:00

--on Cloud 9 till further notice!