I would rather have you
than all of the stars
in the clearest of skies.
You are my all good things,
in this little piece of time;
this little life of mine,
which wants to be nestled
in that little life of yours.
Stay with me awhile.
Be my stars and clouds.
Be my green grass and trees
Be my shadows and colors.
Stay with me awhile,
and we can explore
this little scratch of life
together, deeply, exhaustively.
And hold shells to our ears
to hear people whispering
at the ocean. Wusssssh!
Living would not be so good,
if I could not live it
with you.
11.08.2007
11.05.2007
Let me try blogging in the morning. This might me good. What do I hope to accomplish today?having fresh hot sex. why? might you ask... because I just took a shower and shaved my legs.
Okay, that was Sallen who wrote the text in bold. I left my laptop on the loveseat and when she sat down by it, I asked her to finish my blog for me. That's what friends are for.
Okay, that was Sallen who wrote the text in bold. I left my laptop on the loveseat and when she sat down by it, I asked her to finish my blog for me. That's what friends are for.
11.02.2007
can a mic be flat?
I read at an open mic tonight. It was nothing like Austin, which I miss with its dark coffee shops and weird shoes and well-planned transportations system.
When I was in Burnet, I was always a teensy bit sad to be away from my family and friends.
Now in Dallas, I am still a bit sad that I don't wake up in Burnet.
I also miss how swole my legs were. I'll get back on that next week. I need a goal.
When I was in Burnet, I was always a teensy bit sad to be away from my family and friends.
Now in Dallas, I am still a bit sad that I don't wake up in Burnet.
I also miss how swole my legs were. I'll get back on that next week. I need a goal.
10.17.2007
blumarine and professor
One animal that I am glad I am not is the fish. Their memory is almost to short to count as existent. I don't think my fish know anything. They don't even know it is time to be sleeping.
When I still lived at home in Cleburne I would get ridiculously irritated every time my step-dad did something that I disapproved of (i.e. go for the chips when he wasn't actually hungry, make junk for dinner, say something I didn't agree with in our morning prayer, etc. ad infinitum). I was the most bothered by his failure to successfully quit one bad habit that he had picked up from his days as a cowboy. He was a dipper. He quit once, and praised God for a few years. When his elderly mother's health began to deteriorate so much that he had to move her across Texas to be taken care of, he started dipping again. In my head I held that against him mercilessly. I was a terrible young girl sometimes. While at times I was lax to keep myself from poor conduct, I was sharp to take out my mental insults on other people's slip-ups. How I wish I were completely free from the plague of this sin. I can honestly declare that I do not practice such criticism in the degree that I once did. However, it is two in the morning and I am still up like my dumb fish considering how similar I am to my step-dad. I began a habit sometime this year that evolved into something sinful, like his addiction to dipping. When I kicked the habit I praised God in prayer and to my closest female companion. This blog is for the purpose of saying that I, too, have fallen back into the sin I once praised God for relieving me from. My accidentally-acquired post-modern approach to rules and convictions leaves me in a mud puddle of confusion when I try to decipher right and wrong behaviors, quite often. Sometimes I think I am on to a right approach to living, and then just like a fish, I quickly forget it in lieu of slow-sinking food pellets falling from the surface of the water, or a light that gets turned on in the middle of the night by a girl coming home past curfew.
When I still lived at home in Cleburne I would get ridiculously irritated every time my step-dad did something that I disapproved of (i.e. go for the chips when he wasn't actually hungry, make junk for dinner, say something I didn't agree with in our morning prayer, etc. ad infinitum). I was the most bothered by his failure to successfully quit one bad habit that he had picked up from his days as a cowboy. He was a dipper. He quit once, and praised God for a few years. When his elderly mother's health began to deteriorate so much that he had to move her across Texas to be taken care of, he started dipping again. In my head I held that against him mercilessly. I was a terrible young girl sometimes. While at times I was lax to keep myself from poor conduct, I was sharp to take out my mental insults on other people's slip-ups. How I wish I were completely free from the plague of this sin. I can honestly declare that I do not practice such criticism in the degree that I once did. However, it is two in the morning and I am still up like my dumb fish considering how similar I am to my step-dad. I began a habit sometime this year that evolved into something sinful, like his addiction to dipping. When I kicked the habit I praised God in prayer and to my closest female companion. This blog is for the purpose of saying that I, too, have fallen back into the sin I once praised God for relieving me from. My accidentally-acquired post-modern approach to rules and convictions leaves me in a mud puddle of confusion when I try to decipher right and wrong behaviors, quite often. Sometimes I think I am on to a right approach to living, and then just like a fish, I quickly forget it in lieu of slow-sinking food pellets falling from the surface of the water, or a light that gets turned on in the middle of the night by a girl coming home past curfew.
10.02.2007
Lewis indicates that friends bring out sides of us that would otherwise remain hidden.
Making friends was never, never, never an active pursuit until college. In first grade I was friends with two girls and those friendships melted into new ones again and again with every year and friendship cycle (first meet-awkward first hangout- the good times- the best times- the hard times- the awkward last hangouts), until finally at the end of my senior year in high school I was friends with five girls (especially), about thirty underclassmen, and I knew a majority of the people I saw from day to day. Effortless. They melt into each other.
The only opportunity to make new friends was at church, where one is supposed to befriend everyone so strangers don't feel left out. Therefore, nothing. No trying.
College happens. Best friends become estranged, and going home becomes desperate and depressing, so friendships must be made. I spied the people I wanted to befriend. By the end of the first year, after manually jump starting the friend cycle with each of them (show much interest, back away, and then swoop back in to hook a new amigo), a circle of friends had been established and we were well on our way to the intimacies of the closest friendships.
When I was displaced to Burnet I mourned my loneliness and friendlessness very dramatically in short bursts of sadness and smeared mascara. Not only did I need new friends, but also a new family. Eventually I found hidden treasures, hidden poets, delightful teenagers, and sage adults to be my family and friends. The summer that marked my last months there was beautiful, and never lonely. We rode bikes long after the sun had fallen behind the hills, and the street lamps (too far apart) saw us night after night laughing, dreaming, and planning.
The blessing of being able to make friends is not something I am ungrateful for. I realize how valuable it is.
Not to sound creepy, but it can be pretty formulaic. Spot interesting people, locate yourself around them, show a lot of friendly interest in them, be aloof (i.e. BACK OFF) for awhile (perhaps let your reputation find its way to them), and then wrap them up in the fun of being friends. Be personal, have intimate interests, let them have space in a group, bring them interesting parcels denoting your friendship, etc. On that last note it is entertaining enough to mention that I have given many strange friend gifts that have just perfectly done the trick (a black ceramic angel, a small plastic rifle, jelly beans, abstract photographs, potted flowers, etc.).
Josh wants to know how to spot interesting people, or at least how I do it. I have no answer. Oscar says we find each other. It is true. However, we are not just similar pawns that fate brings together. We have some say in those people we actively pursue. I suppose I have very high criteria for my close circle, though I will be friendly (and sincerely, at that) to anyone. The following criteria will be written in stream of consciousness. Forgive me my offenses.
I like people who have passions, who aren't obsessed with TV or the top 40, who plan, desire to move and grow.
I like to hear that someone has a favorite part of nature, isn't just going to get a tattoo because it is legal to do at age 18, respects their family, and is attempting to work out their relation to God.
I like thinkers, of course, but especially those with a sense of humor, a sense of humility, a sense of piety, and a sense of duty.
I like shy people with raging inside personalities, as well as people with extravagant personalties who have intricate and quiet inner folds of psyche.
I like people who read a lot, write well, and are recreationally active whether it be on a bike, on two feet running down whatever, taking some ball to some goal, or playing COPY or JUMP.
I like people who can make things, paint, draw, paste, sculpt, and photograph things.
I like people who have very personal interest, and are personally interested in the people around them.
I like people who don't know, but want to. I like people who know, but realize they don't .
I like people with long hair and funny stories, and people with short hair and comical stories.
I like planned people, spontaneous people, loving people, and critical people.
I like to be around the smart, the funny, the aloof, the nerdy, the warm, the genuine, the simple, and the moving people.
I like the silly, and the serious. I like the depressed and the joyful.
I attempt to scorn cliches, superficiality, insincerity, crudeness, hate, racism, sexism, close-mindedness, legalism, and superiority complexes.
Upon finding someone so beautiful, so interesting, who fits what I want in a friend, I kick start the cycle, and hopefully, we make something where there was nothing.
The only opportunity to make new friends was at church, where one is supposed to befriend everyone so strangers don't feel left out. Therefore, nothing. No trying.
College happens. Best friends become estranged, and going home becomes desperate and depressing, so friendships must be made. I spied the people I wanted to befriend. By the end of the first year, after manually jump starting the friend cycle with each of them (show much interest, back away, and then swoop back in to hook a new amigo), a circle of friends had been established and we were well on our way to the intimacies of the closest friendships.
When I was displaced to Burnet I mourned my loneliness and friendlessness very dramatically in short bursts of sadness and smeared mascara. Not only did I need new friends, but also a new family. Eventually I found hidden treasures, hidden poets, delightful teenagers, and sage adults to be my family and friends. The summer that marked my last months there was beautiful, and never lonely. We rode bikes long after the sun had fallen behind the hills, and the street lamps (too far apart) saw us night after night laughing, dreaming, and planning.
The blessing of being able to make friends is not something I am ungrateful for. I realize how valuable it is.
Not to sound creepy, but it can be pretty formulaic. Spot interesting people, locate yourself around them, show a lot of friendly interest in them, be aloof (i.e. BACK OFF) for awhile (perhaps let your reputation find its way to them), and then wrap them up in the fun of being friends. Be personal, have intimate interests, let them have space in a group, bring them interesting parcels denoting your friendship, etc. On that last note it is entertaining enough to mention that I have given many strange friend gifts that have just perfectly done the trick (a black ceramic angel, a small plastic rifle, jelly beans, abstract photographs, potted flowers, etc.).
Josh wants to know how to spot interesting people, or at least how I do it. I have no answer. Oscar says we find each other. It is true. However, we are not just similar pawns that fate brings together. We have some say in those people we actively pursue. I suppose I have very high criteria for my close circle, though I will be friendly (and sincerely, at that) to anyone. The following criteria will be written in stream of consciousness. Forgive me my offenses.
I like people who have passions, who aren't obsessed with TV or the top 40, who plan, desire to move and grow.
I like to hear that someone has a favorite part of nature, isn't just going to get a tattoo because it is legal to do at age 18, respects their family, and is attempting to work out their relation to God.
I like thinkers, of course, but especially those with a sense of humor, a sense of humility, a sense of piety, and a sense of duty.
I like shy people with raging inside personalities, as well as people with extravagant personalties who have intricate and quiet inner folds of psyche.
I like people who read a lot, write well, and are recreationally active whether it be on a bike, on two feet running down whatever, taking some ball to some goal, or playing COPY or JUMP.
I like people who can make things, paint, draw, paste, sculpt, and photograph things.
I like people who have very personal interest, and are personally interested in the people around them.
I like people who don't know, but want to. I like people who know, but realize they don't .
I like people with long hair and funny stories, and people with short hair and comical stories.
I like planned people, spontaneous people, loving people, and critical people.
I like to be around the smart, the funny, the aloof, the nerdy, the warm, the genuine, the simple, and the moving people.
I like the silly, and the serious. I like the depressed and the joyful.
I attempt to scorn cliches, superficiality, insincerity, crudeness, hate, racism, sexism, close-mindedness, legalism, and superiority complexes.
Upon finding someone so beautiful, so interesting, who fits what I want in a friend, I kick start the cycle, and hopefully, we make something where there was nothing.
9.18.2007
a few things off the cuff (if i had cuffs, if it would cool down)
1 I suppose being the big sister to much younger siblings has taught me one internal motto, which I will now voice: If you want something done, do it yourself. Or else, delegate.
2 Last night in my dreams, I was driving down the road in the backseat of a car with three friends. A boy was driving. We were on the road near my Granny's house that intersects with the road that goes into Nacogdoches. I saw a man laying in the grass on the side of the road (an image I saw in Austin), with his thumb up in the signature hitchhiker gesture. Suddenly, I realized that we were in a horror movie, and that this man would kill us all when we benevolently conceded to give him a ride to town. I screamed and screamed to driver friend not to pick him up because I had a feeling! He gave into my fears and did not pick the hitchhiker up. When we got to the bus station (similar to the one in San Diego), I saw the man again and knew that he had tracked us down, and would still proceed to kill us. Dangit.
Then I realized that I was simply reading the book about the horror movie.
3 I saw my ex-boyfriend, Leo, in my dreams, and he asked about me wistfully (a permanent impression) and I asked about his baby girl (also a permanent impression).
4 Also in my dreams, I wore a huge tiara in my short curly hair and it looked great.
5 Friendliness slays almost all foes.
6 Living in Burnet was one of the best times of my life. I visited it for about 12 hours this weekend, (half of those sleeping), and it has changed already. That time can be never be repeated, never be replaced.
2 Last night in my dreams, I was driving down the road in the backseat of a car with three friends. A boy was driving. We were on the road near my Granny's house that intersects with the road that goes into Nacogdoches. I saw a man laying in the grass on the side of the road (an image I saw in Austin), with his thumb up in the signature hitchhiker gesture. Suddenly, I realized that we were in a horror movie, and that this man would kill us all when we benevolently conceded to give him a ride to town. I screamed and screamed to driver friend not to pick him up because I had a feeling! He gave into my fears and did not pick the hitchhiker up. When we got to the bus station (similar to the one in San Diego), I saw the man again and knew that he had tracked us down, and would still proceed to kill us. Dangit.
Then I realized that I was simply reading the book about the horror movie.
3 I saw my ex-boyfriend, Leo, in my dreams, and he asked about me wistfully (a permanent impression) and I asked about his baby girl (also a permanent impression).
4 Also in my dreams, I wore a huge tiara in my short curly hair and it looked great.
5 Friendliness slays almost all foes.
6 Living in Burnet was one of the best times of my life. I visited it for about 12 hours this weekend, (half of those sleeping), and it has changed already. That time can be never be repeated, never be replaced.
9.01.2007
this time, this move
This semester is two weeks old, and I have been residing in Dallas for a month now. If one thinks that by writing a few lines down about Dallas, before reflecting on my move away from Burnet, that I have gotten ahead of myself and misstepped, do not fear nor make a quick judgement, I haven't neglected to write about leaving that dear town. There is a quick explanation.
Moving away was painful. I am fully aware that for weeks prior and following my departure, I was detached and unemotional when talking about my leave, except with the two people I am closest to, Mitch and my mother. Sure, I could explain why I was down about leaving, and what few things I was looking forward to in the big city, but those things were delivered in a quick, flat, logical explanation, with perhaps a whisper of wistfulness ("...if only Burnet could be transported to surround DBU..."), but not much. Sometimes I felt bad, because it seemed that I was presenting my feelings about the upheaval as non-existent, i.e. "This unfortunate thing is happening, but I don't care either way". To those who know me best it was clearly the other way around. I am a romantic, and every last made me choke down the knot in my throat. The last trip to Kiri's. The last sight of Alisha. The last time to shut down the Epicenter. The last Bible study. The last bike ride. I was a wreck, but I was a composed wreck. This conflict, like any conflict big or small, I rode through on auto-pilot. I said what I needed to say, and did what I needed to do to make a clean break, to weather the storm, to keep my composure, and to not add tears to anyone's eyes.
There were the two times that I couldn't keep the tears in, in front of people other than Mitch and my mom: Once, at Bible study, though only the adults noticed, and again in front of the church on my last Sunday morning, when I was supposed to be offering them some last words.
I just like to get through the problem, and think about it once it's over.
So that is what I did. Once I moved up here, I felt myself remain in the zone. It was difficult to process, even after all of my bags and boxes were unpacked, and my shelf in the pantry was stocked with food, the fact that I was not going home, to Burnet. I made no journal entries, nor stopped to examine how I was feeling. I felt boredom one evening for the first time in a year or so.
The question people had posed a hundred times, "Are you excited to move back to Dallas?" haunted me because I still had not a confident answer. It is a given that I was thrilled to be so close to Mitch. I soon learned that I had much to learn about how to co-habitate in the same city with my (all good words). Yet, that reason alone was not enough to fully answer the question with. Yes, my friends and family would also be closer. School would finally come back into focus. But with the hurt of leaving a home and a family, no answer was good enough; filled with enough sincerity, or true excitement. I knew excitement not. I knew that it would not be good to stay, and that it did not feel good to leave.
Yet, I am enlivened. I wake up a bit more everyday. I shouted a jubilant HELLO to the skyline. Going to Church of the Incarnation is the highlight of my every week, basically. I long to return to its kneelers and join in the traditional songs of my family, the church. It is nice to have college-age conversation, to fully belong to a school, to come home to a family of girls, to live in creativity with my best female friend, to meet new people, and click-click to a faster way of life again.
Oh, who can deny that the best part are these lazy and lovely days I get to spend with my beloved? Mitch and I have settled into (can it be?) some kind of routine. It is mind blowing. I remember slight trepidations at the thought of being together so much. I was scared for what it might prove. How incredible it is that all it has proved is that I am ever-more fascinated by him. I actually get to scan crowds to see if I can catch a glimpse of him, grab a quick lunch with him, go to a Tuesday night movie, and just live like a normal couple! Finally! God is so good to me! This is such a fortunate, providential, and refreshing time for us.
I am trying to be slow about committing myself to anything else, right now. I go to a Bible study of thinkers, co-host Poetry nights, and work with Pre-schoolers. I have to find a service activity, but that is where I am drawing the line. I want to maintain some semblance of the slow way of Burnet life.
So, to those who might be concerned, I have written about Burnet, in detail. I am not done, but I will try to finish this week. I've been hesitating. And when it is done, it is done.
Moving away was painful. I am fully aware that for weeks prior and following my departure, I was detached and unemotional when talking about my leave, except with the two people I am closest to, Mitch and my mother. Sure, I could explain why I was down about leaving, and what few things I was looking forward to in the big city, but those things were delivered in a quick, flat, logical explanation, with perhaps a whisper of wistfulness ("...if only Burnet could be transported to surround DBU..."), but not much. Sometimes I felt bad, because it seemed that I was presenting my feelings about the upheaval as non-existent, i.e. "This unfortunate thing is happening, but I don't care either way". To those who know me best it was clearly the other way around. I am a romantic, and every last made me choke down the knot in my throat. The last trip to Kiri's. The last sight of Alisha. The last time to shut down the Epicenter. The last Bible study. The last bike ride. I was a wreck, but I was a composed wreck. This conflict, like any conflict big or small, I rode through on auto-pilot. I said what I needed to say, and did what I needed to do to make a clean break, to weather the storm, to keep my composure, and to not add tears to anyone's eyes.
There were the two times that I couldn't keep the tears in, in front of people other than Mitch and my mom: Once, at Bible study, though only the adults noticed, and again in front of the church on my last Sunday morning, when I was supposed to be offering them some last words.
I just like to get through the problem, and think about it once it's over.
So that is what I did. Once I moved up here, I felt myself remain in the zone. It was difficult to process, even after all of my bags and boxes were unpacked, and my shelf in the pantry was stocked with food, the fact that I was not going home, to Burnet. I made no journal entries, nor stopped to examine how I was feeling. I felt boredom one evening for the first time in a year or so.
The question people had posed a hundred times, "Are you excited to move back to Dallas?" haunted me because I still had not a confident answer. It is a given that I was thrilled to be so close to Mitch. I soon learned that I had much to learn about how to co-habitate in the same city with my (all good words). Yet, that reason alone was not enough to fully answer the question with. Yes, my friends and family would also be closer. School would finally come back into focus. But with the hurt of leaving a home and a family, no answer was good enough; filled with enough sincerity, or true excitement. I knew excitement not. I knew that it would not be good to stay, and that it did not feel good to leave.
Yet, I am enlivened. I wake up a bit more everyday. I shouted a jubilant HELLO to the skyline. Going to Church of the Incarnation is the highlight of my every week, basically. I long to return to its kneelers and join in the traditional songs of my family, the church. It is nice to have college-age conversation, to fully belong to a school, to come home to a family of girls, to live in creativity with my best female friend, to meet new people, and click-click to a faster way of life again.
Oh, who can deny that the best part are these lazy and lovely days I get to spend with my beloved? Mitch and I have settled into (can it be?) some kind of routine. It is mind blowing. I remember slight trepidations at the thought of being together so much. I was scared for what it might prove. How incredible it is that all it has proved is that I am ever-more fascinated by him. I actually get to scan crowds to see if I can catch a glimpse of him, grab a quick lunch with him, go to a Tuesday night movie, and just live like a normal couple! Finally! God is so good to me! This is such a fortunate, providential, and refreshing time for us.
I am trying to be slow about committing myself to anything else, right now. I go to a Bible study of thinkers, co-host Poetry nights, and work with Pre-schoolers. I have to find a service activity, but that is where I am drawing the line. I want to maintain some semblance of the slow way of Burnet life.
So, to those who might be concerned, I have written about Burnet, in detail. I am not done, but I will try to finish this week. I've been hesitating. And when it is done, it is done.
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