a revolution without dancing

there are no bad words for the coast today

2011-09-22T15:15:00.006-05:00

After spinning my wheels for the past hour and a half struggling to solve a problem in my dissertation data analysis - re-reading notes, looking up information online, modifying the analysis and running it again, only to receive the same error message - I finally emailed a helpful TA in hopes that she can help me get unstuck. Frustrated with yet another stumbling block in this long process, I walked away from my table at the coffee shop for a bathroom break.

As I glanced out the front door onto the sunlit, tree-lined street, I was struck with gratitude. "How lucky I am to live somewhere so beautiful."

Often in these perfect moments, I lament how they seem too perfect and are destined to never occur again. Like yesterday, when I sat in the shade of a beautiful flower garden while on my lunch break. I was so enjoying the beauty around me, that it was bittersweet realizing that I would soon have to return to my windowless office and that in a few weeks it might be too cold for me to comfortably enjoy the beauty of this garden. All I wanted to do was linger.

But in today's perfect moment, the moment was just right. I only felt thankful to be where I am at this time.

Rilo Kiley – Spectacular Views

The Urban Life: The City Park

2011-08-30T21:40:00.006-05:00

I've recently come to believe that one of the best places to experience cultural equality is at a good city park.

I've started running since I moved to this new city. And by running, I mean power walking mixed with jogging, and trying to increase the jogging. Less than half a mile from my apartment, is a lovely little park, adorned with one a fountain complete with charging horse statues, which is often frequented by a flock of geese. It features a track around the narrow park, parts of which are lined with trees and go up and down small hills.

But it's not the picturesque fountain or tranquil trees that I like best about this park.

It's the people who come there.

A middle-aged woman photographing the geese. Six Muslim women in head-coverings sitting by the fountain with their children. White, black, and Latino men playing a game of soccer together. White chicks and dudes playing volleyball. Hipsters juggling and playing with hula hoops. A Latino family taking pictures at the fountain, later followed by an Indian family doing the same. A couple laying on blankets reading. A woman by herself reading. People running, biking, walking their dogs.

I can out power walk the middle aged women but the fit men always pass me. No matter, everyone has a place at the park. It's not like a gym that you have to pay for, where everyone else seems to lift twice the weight and run twice as fast as me. Even with my currently low level of physical fitness, I don't stand out when I work out in the park.

City parks are free. Paid for by taxes, but it doesn't matter if you paid a lot of taxes or paid none or cheated on your taxes, the park is available to you - so long as you have transportation to get there. You don't need expensive equipment or clothes or an invitation or your name on the VIP list. As long as it's safe, anyone can go there and enjoy it - men, women, children, teenagers, elderly.

Maybe I'm being overly idealistic in my park description. Despite the equality offered by the park, the reminders of inequality are ever present as the park is only yards away from the most upscale shopping center in town, mainly frequented by the affluent white citizens and college kids with credit cards. And the park is always populated with homeless men, so going to the park is not a luxury for everyone. For some people, they go there because they have nowhere else to go.

Despite the realities of poverty and racial inequality that I'm still aware of as I walk/jog in my park, the fact that so many people from different backgrounds come to enjoy it makes this park one of most beautiful places I've been to.

Support and challenge

2011-08-14T18:48:00.003-05:00

On the first day of my psychology internship, we spent some time getting to know potential supervisors. In response to a question about how much support vs. challenge that she provides her supervisees, one psychologist replied, “I think that you can only challenge someone as much as you support them. In fact, I think there always needs to be a little more support than challenge so that you don’t run out of your ‘support bank’.”

This concept certainly resonated with me as reflecting how I best receive challenge in relationships as well as how I approach my clients in therapy. In order for me to effectively receive a challenge or constructive criticism from someone, I need to trust that the person challenging me also supports me, that the person has my best interests in mind and intends to build me up through the challenge. If I don’t feel an equal or great amount of support, then the challenge feels more like an attack on my person and abilities, and I react defensively instead of embracing the challenge as something that will help me grow.

I’ll admit that I am overly sensitive to any kind of criticism (perceived or otherwise) and even when challenged by someone who genuinely supports and cares for me, it’s easy for me to forget that support and just feel threatened by the criticism. But in the times when I do recognize the immense support I’m receiving and trust the other person(s) to speak into my life in a challenging way, then I can more easily accept the challenge, even if it’s still difficult to receive.

This is also how I approach both therapeutic and non-therapeutic relationships. For me to be able to challenge someone else, I must first support them and build a foundation of acceptance and trust, and continue to supply that support even as I challenge. This taps into what Rogers calls “Unconditional positive regard,” though I don’t think Rogers practiced any kind of direct challenging of his clients. These ideas of support and challenge going hand in hand also reflect the Christian saying of “speaking the truth in love.” Truth spoken without love for the one who is receiving that is just noise, a clanging symbol, that may be heard but won’t be listened to. I also recall a friend advising me, “If you’re coming from a place of love, then you can say just about anything to that person.” And I think it’s more than just having love in your heart as you say something – it requires the kind of demonstrated love that will lead to trust. The people I saw the other night on the street corner with their signs announcing repentance or eternity in hell were perhaps motivated by love for the multitudes of hell-goers they were preaching to, but I highly doubt than anyone who walked by felt loved by them.

While many of you might agree with these ideas (they’re millennials old and not original to me at all), some of us may have different ways of knowing that we are supported. I’m not saying that we all need to hug everyone and dote on them to make them feel loved, though that’s certainly appropriate and necessary in some relationships and in some cultures. In some contexts and cultures, support and love if felt through actions and words that are very different that what I find to be loving. For example, I’ve heard that in some Asian cultures which value authoritative parenting, children feel loved and accepted when their family members challenge them to perform better. Maybe some of them grow up believing that they only loved as a result of their good performance, but many probably grow up believing that the expression of requiring someone to succeed is a sign as love as it reflects a desire for that person to reach their full potential and have a good life.

So, I intend to keep these ideas in mind over the next year and hope to continuously examine how those I’m in therapeutic/romantic/family/friendship/coworker relationships with best feel loved and supported and best receive challenges. And when I receive challenges from others, then I’ll try to remember that (usually) the person challenging me cares very deeply about me as a person so that I can receive the challenge as an opportunity to grow.

light weight

2011-07-12T17:09:00.006-05:00

A few days ago, I spent the evening with a group of friends. There was much laughter, as a friend sculpted a butter cat, we all sniffed the lavender handsoap, the guys confessed their love for Julie Andrews as Maria in The Sound of Music, we tried to guess one another's middle names, and answered random Loaded Questions cards that led to disclosures about the embarrassing things we own.

We also discussed various ways to interpret the Old Testament, talked about why we were Liberal, or Republican, or Libertarian, whether or not our country needs the Federal Reserve, and what is the true nature of the Christian gospel and how do we treat those Christians who profess belief in a different gospel version.

I left that evening absolutely invigorated by both the frequent tear-inducing laughter and the depth of our theological and political conversations. I thought about how rare it must be to experience those two different types of interactions throughout hours of discussion, but then I realized that such a dichotomy is false because the two share the same origins.

Both are facilitated by the abandonment of pretense and judgement, the comfort with oneself that allows for complete openness, and the true acceptance of others the embraces both their utter silliness and their complete honesty in sharing their opinions about weighty matters. Both the light-hearted and the weighty matters spring from the same spirit of authenticity, and when the two are freely shared, the light-hearted utterances are given more weight as they represent the freedom to be and the weighty matters become lighter as we are allowed to laugh at ourselves and question our beliefs even while expressing deeply held convictions.

I crave more times like these, times when I can engage with others both in our utter absurdity and profundity.

new location for the next month

2011-05-22T22:35:00.004-05:00

Well, tomorrow I'm traveling to Turkey for a month, and guess what? Blogger is banned there due to some bloggers violating copyright laws by posting streaming soccer (futbol) games on their blogs. Instead of targeting the criminals, the government decided to just blanketly ban the entire website, similar to their previous bans of of Youtube, and various other blogging platforms.

So, rather than mess with figuring out how to change my IP address, while I spend the next month in another country, my blogging will also spend the next month in a new blogging platform. Please add it to your google reader and follow me in my latest adventure here -

http://tulipsandbluebonnets.wordpress.com/

Unless of course, the Turkish government decides to ban wordpress as well in the next month.

doppelganger?

2011-05-15T23:41:00.003-05:00

Hmm. I mistyped my blog address tonight and came across this -

http://arevolutionwithoutdancing.blogspot.com/

I guess someone else liked that quote from V for Vendetta, and it was a rather popular quote from 5 years ago.

An abandoned blog with only six posts, and a somewhat obnoxious layout, but I wonder, is she my Oregon alter-ego? If I had grown up in the Northwest or moved there for college, would my life look anything like hers?

I once was riding a train and a car just like mine was driving beside it. I imagined that it was me in that car, from another time, and I was watching my past or future self from the train. I like to imagine alter egos or selves from different times interacting. Maybe it's narcissism, but I think I just like to reflect on my life and ask, "What if?"

the good-byes begin . . .

2011-05-03T20:44:00.004-05:00

This morning I unexpectedly said good-bye to my favorite allergy shot nurse. I have an appointment scheduled in two weeks, but she realized that she would out for the summer by then, and this was our last time to see each other. We hugged warmly and wished each other well. She is always so friendly and bubbly over with positivity, in a genuine and caring way, but also a little kooky too. I thanked her for always being so friendly, to which she responded, laughingly, "But I'm also kinda weird!" She's always asking me about school and my vacation plans, in way that isn't just chitchat but shows that she truly wants to engage with her patients and know them as people. There's a good chance that I may never see her again. While I won't truly miss her, there is still a sadness in saying good-bye to someone that I've seen weekly or monthly for over three years.

And so the good-bye have begun.

The last couple of weeks, it's really hit me that I'm leaving soon. I've frequently felt brief pangs of sadness as I think about the people and places that I'm going to miss. Despite being busy with papers due, I've been motivated to consistently spend time with those who are are dear to me. Living here for almost four years, I've really put down roots in this place, the first home that I've established for myself as an adult. I've found a great community and have my habits and rhythms of where I go and what I do on a regular basis. I truly consider it home, and sometimes experience confusion when people refer to the place I grew up where my parents still live as home. "When are you going home?," someone asked me. "I'm going back to college station Sunday afternoon." "No, I mean when are you moving from college station?" "Oh . . . " Recently I've thought about how "home" is shifting for me. In two and a half weeks, the BCS won't be my home anymore. I don't really consider my parent's town as home, since I'll only be staying there for about a month and a half, so it just feels transitory. Then I'll probably only be living in Kansas City for a year, which seems like too short of a time to call it home as well. DFW will probably always be one "home," but maybe the BCS will be a secondary home, as long as I have people here who feel like family to me.

At times in the past couple of weeks, I've even found myself wishing that I wasn't leaving. Four years ago, I could have never predicted feeling this way! But even if I feel that way from time to time, I know it's the right time to leave. I'm excited about my travel plans for the summer and excited about moving to a new city in a new part of the country. Great opportunities await me that I wouldn't be experiencing if I stayed here. But I think it's ok to both wish to stay in one place and to be excited about going to another. Just because I love living here doesn't meant that I'm also not excited about living somewhere else. It's just that right now, when I'm in the middle of good-byes, what I'm leaving behind is more salient than I'm headed into.

This week, in addition to the impending good-byes, the realization of just how much I need to do before I leave has struck me. Dissertation data analysis, the packing, sorting, selling, throwing out, & giving away of the things in my apartment, and closing the residence hall are the big things. But there's also many little things that really add up, like changing my address, going to the dentist, finding new health insurance, etc. Fortunately, this realization is motivating me to get these things done, so hopefully this next week will be a productive one.

voice of inquiry

2011-04-26T12:21:00.003-05:00

This morning at work, several coworkers surprised us all with awards for everyone - creatively made on decorated paper plates. Some were serious - the "Strength" award for a coworker who has been battling a serious disease; some were inside jokes - "The Spooning with Rotter Award," many were quite funny; and all reflected some aspects of the person's character or personality. There were plenty of laughs and smiles.

I received the "Voice of Inquiry" award, complete with a medallion and red, white, and blue ribbon that allowed me to hang the award around my neck. "This person always asks questions in our staff meeting, and voices the questions that I often would want to ask," my coworker said before presenting me with the award. I laughed when I received it - because it's certainly true, I do ask a lot of questions in our staff meetings! I'm always seeking to understand clearly, and have no problem voicing questions to receive that clarity.

To be honest, after the initial laugh, I felt a little disappointed with the award. Do I really want to be remembered when I leave this job as the girl that asks all those questions? I'd rather be remembered as someone who was caring, positive, encouraging, etc. But if I'm really honest, I haven't put my all into this job. I've done an adequate and at times very good job with it, but it's not where my heart is. For many of my coworkers, this job represents the beginning of their career in student affairs, but for me, it's a means to a different end. I've got some great coworkers and believe that I work well with everyone, but I've felt like an outsider at times. Which is ok. I lived here for three years before starting this job, so I already had my life, my academic program, my community. This job has never defined me, nor should I let one award define me.

Thinking about it further though, this award does reflect one of my greatest strengths - communication. I'm constantly using verbal and written communication to be understood and to understand. And in this job, part of that is asking a lot of questions to make sure that, and others, understand. It's also something I tell the RAs I supervise to do - "If you're not sure, just ask! It's better to ask about something you think you should already know than do something that you're not sure about." I value questions in my job, in my relationships, in academics, in my spiritual life, because maybe questions don't always lead to clear answers, but they can lead to better understanding.

After our meeting, I thanked my coworker who made my award. He thanked me and said, "Thank you! You've shown me that it's ok to ask questions." Which I guess is a good thing. In a meeting room of 30 plus people, including our supervisors, asking a question could be intimidating for someone who's more shy than I am. But I'm not shy - I love to talk, ask questions, of anyone, anywhere. Being the voice of inquiry for a team is a good thing.

resurrection

2011-04-24T19:44:00.001-05:00

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness

2011-04-04T10:05:00.006-05:00

I've been thinking some about how my being an American has shaped me, my values, my beliefs, my expectations for how life should be, how I create meaning in life, etc, and how this is so different from someone who is Ecuadorian, Turkish, Iranian, or Bangladeshi. As Christians, I think that we like to believe that our beliefs and worldview match a Christian worldview, that our beliefs and how we see the world is entirely shaped through Christ and the Bible. I think that our cultural worldviews often shape our view of Christianity more than the vice versa.

In the US, we live our lives pursuing happiness. And I think sometimes it makes us miserable. It's in our constitution, that everyone has the right to pursue happiness, and I think reflects a cultural mandate that our chief purpose is to be happy. That if we're not happy, if we suffer, if we feel depressed, then something is wrong with us or the world and it needs to be changed. We make most of our decisions by asking, "Will this make me and others happy?" "Will marrying this person make me happy?" "Will this career make me happy?" "Will living in this city make me happy?" "Will doing this hobby make me happy?" And that mindset certainly affects how we approach Christianity - "Will believing this make me happy?" "Will Christ bring me happiness and fulfillment and a good life if I follow Him?" Many Christians continue to try to squeeze happiness out of the gospel as if that were its main purpose, and others walk away when they're not happy.

And I see this as very cultural because some cultures don't pursue happiness like we do. Some individuals don't expect to be happy all the time, if at all. My friend was telling me about a line from the movie Beyond Rangoon (which I haven't seen), where the lead character (an American woman) is talking with a Burmese political official who tells her basically, "In Burma, we expect suffering. We're not shocked by it. We don't expect happiness." Some cultures are better at accepting suffering. My Iranian friend said that this is true of her culture and many other cultures. She said that this is reflected in media, in movies particularly. In the US, most movies have a happy ending. Not all, but a lot of them do. We want to see happy endings because we expect that for ourselves. But in other countries, movies are more tragic. They end with death and mourning and wailing, because that reflect their expectation from life. In the US, we are shocked by suffering and tragedy. We protest and cry out, "Why do bad things happen to good people?"

I'm not saying that we should just lay down and accept suffering and not try to end it. We should be seeking to end injustice and cure cancer and AIDS. There is much needless suffering in the world, and we shouldn't just shrug our shoulders and be indifferent. But perhaps we should be more accepting of our own personal suffering. Perhaps I should be more accepting of personal suffering. By disposition, I'm a pretty optimistic person. I like being happy and I can easily find positives in many situations. When I'm unhappy, I just want to be happy again as soon as possible. I've found myself frequently unhappy this week, often without being able to do anything to change the circumstances that contributed to my unhappiness. I found that the times when I just accepted my unhappiness, when I just acknowledge, "Ok, I'm unhappy right now, and this sucks, and I want to be happy, but I'm never promised happiness, so I can be unhappy right now," were my most peaceful moments this past week.

And does this reflect the kind of outlook I should have as a Christian? Looking at the early church in the New Testament, the church seemed to expect suffering, but there was also much joy. Joy in fellowship with other believers, in pursuing a new way, in enjoying the blessing of the Spirit and salvation. But that joy went alongside the suffering of Christ, the suffering of following a narrow way.

Nothing I'm saying is new or revolutionary. This is all influenced by psychological theories I've read or studied, conversations I've had, or sermons I've heard preached. I'm just trying to examine myself more in light of these thoughts, trying to understand my cultural expectations for what my life should be like, and hold those in light of what could be more true.

research induced psychosis

2011-03-29T22:00:00.005-05:00

I'm in the middle of collecting my dissertation data. And it's nearly turning me into an confused mess.

Due to an unfortunate circumstance, I only have a three week window to collect my data. Which means that my priority right now is organizing experimental sessions and recruiting participants. Last night my adviser told me that I should try informal methods, "word of mouth," to recruit participants. So I spent at least an hour last night emailing professors I know, fellow hall directors, and advisers of student organizations. Then this morning at approximately 9:23 during my 9am work meeting, I received an email on my dag smartphone from the presenter of my dissertation study that he double-booked himself and needed to reschedule one of our sessions next week. Which 10 participants had already signed up for. So, I spent the rest of the loooong meeting worrying about rescheduling a location and contacting the participants. Within an hour of the meeting's end, I had rescheduled a location, confirmed with the presenter, contacting the participants, and met with my adviser. I spent at least another hour munching chocolate covered espresso beans and emailing the folks I had emailed last night to let them know about the schedule change and additional contacts who might help me recruit research participants.

By by 2pm meeting with one of the Resident Advisers I supervise, I was a disoriented, jittery mess who kept asking her questions about things she was working on, to which she would answer by blinking twice and then saying, "I sent you an email about that already . . . "

And now I know why my adviser is frequently so scattered when I talk to him. Not because he's suffering from any kind of premature dementia, but because he is first and foremost a researcher. There is absolute truth to the absent-minded professor stereotype. Fortunately, I don't plan a career which would primarily involve research, so likely this research-influenced incoherent fugue state will be brief. I apologized to my RA, saying, "I'm sorry, it's hard for me to keep everyone's things straight unless I'm looking at them," when I should have said, "I'm sorry, I'm collecting research data right now, and it's hard for me to remember to turn my oven off."

But there is an end at sight. Despite this mad rush of data collection, if all goes well, this could turn out to be a blessing in disguise. How great will it be to have it all collected so soon, and time to spend analyzing it before the semester is up (which will carry it's own madness), before I begin my summer adventures! There is hope for me to be a doctor by next year. Sigh.

lent?

2011-03-09T14:25:00.009-06:00

Yesterday I ate king cake someone made and brought to our staff meeting and saw guys and gals sporting mardi gras beads when I went out to karaoke at an Irish-themed pub. And now today I've seen folks wearing ash on their foreheads, the start of the Lenten season.

"Man, I hope people don't give up stuff for Lent!" one of my RAs mentioned in our staff meeting a couple of weeks ago when we were discussing upcoming programs and what food to serve. In the previous meeting, I had talked with them about offering more food choices to be inclusive of all residents and their diets, whether for religious or health reasons, so I just gently reminded the RA that this is another reason to offer different food options at our programs.

Her response stuck with me, because I think that's how many people view Lent. Some sort of hassle for Catholics or all Christians to give up something that they usually enjoy. Just another example of Christians doing something that doesn't sound fun, going against our society's emphasis on instant gratification. I'm not Catholic, but I started adopting Lenten practices of fasting from something for a season in high school when I gave up drinking sodas during Lent. I thought Lent was about giving something up until I talked with a Catholic friend in college about it.

"What are you giving up for Lent?" I asked him. "Lent isn't about giving up things," he explained, "It's a season for spiritual renewal. That can take the form of a fast, but it should also be a time when people do things and make changes, like being more generous or forgiving." Since then, when this season rolls around, instead of praying, "What should I give up this year for Lent?" I think about what I should do for Lent and what it should mean for me this season.

Recently, I asked my boyfriend if he was going to do anything for Lent, and he said no and shared some of this thoughts about why he believes Lent isn't something he should practice. I'm not going to recap what he said because it probably wouldn't do his opinions justice, but I do want to share the thoughts that it prompted. The first is the idea of "seasonal holiness," of doing things to make oneself holy for a season or doing something that would please God for just a few weeks, but then not doing it the rest of the year. There is something hypocritical sounding about it. But for me, Lent isn't about making myself holy or more pleasing to God during this season. It's about practicing something new and different for a season, and maybe I'll continue that practice after Lent, and maybe I won't. I don't think that God necessarily expects the same things from his followers all the same. I might do something that for a season is beneficial to my spiritual health and is what God wants for me at that time, but at another time, as I grow and mature (hopefully) and face different circumstances and challenges, then God may want me to do something different. I don't think there's some point of spiritual practice that I'm supposed to "arrive" at. I don't think I should keep striving until I read my Bible, pray, fast, etc every day. I don't think my prayer life should always look the same. I think there will be ebbs and flows and differences across time, and I see Lent as one of those ebbs.

The second thing I took away from our conversation is the idea of trying to make changes based on my own effort. I struggle with spiritual disciplines, even when I enjoy them and see the good in them. Lent is the exception. I can make drastic lifestyle changes during Lent that I wouldn't always have the willpower to carry out the rest of the year. It's the conviction of the Lenten season and the accountability of other Christians all around the world doing something similar that helps me to stick with my Lenten convictions when I don't keep other promises. But is Lent something that's about me and my own willpower and my own dedication to do or not do something? Or is it about the Spirit working through me, changing me from the inside out, in ways that I never could? Am I humbled during Lent? Or am I filled with pride in what I'm able to do or give up?

I've decided to do the following this Lenten season:

1. Fast from lunch once a week and spend that solid hour in prayer.
2. Not use the internet after 10:30pm, unless it's legitimately for word.
3. Read John Owen's Mortification of Sins.*

I certainly don't think that all Christians should participate in Lent. I don't know that I'll continue to participate in Lent year after year, but I am participating in it again this year and I look forward to seeing how God will use this season in my life.

*Don't be afraid of the Puritans! Give them a chance. I read Jonathan Edwards' "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" sermon in a high school English class, and my Christian friends and I decided that the Puritans were as nutty as those street evangelists in our city who said you were going to hell if you drank alcohol, didn't wear long skirts, or went to see movies. But recently I've been reintroduced to Puritan writers through reading The Valley of Vision, a beautiful and moving collection of prayers, and now John Owen.

the "big" day

2011-02-24T16:53:00.003-06:00

Tomorrow is the "big" day. Match day. The day where I find out if all of my efforts on my applications and interviews pays off getting matched at an internship site.

If facebook posts are any indication, my cohort-mates seem to be freaking out in anticipation. My friends and family keep bringing it up, with one friend saying yesterday, "I'm nervous for you!" This is a big day that is giving anxiety and excitement to thousands of graduate students across the continent.

And me? When I allow myself to think about, I feel excited and nervous and antsy and all the usual emotions. But this past week or so, I mostly haven't been thinking about it. I've been acting and thinking like this is just a normal week, not a week leading up to some life-altering announcement. Oh, it's definitely a big deal for me and something I've excited about. I've organized a dinner out with friends to celebrate with me or console me if I don't match. But I've still got other things to do this week and other things to look forward to this weekend. Surprisingly, I think I went almost the entire day yesterday without thinking about it. Maybe it's denial. Maybe it's healthy. Whatever it is, it's helping me get through this week without being a big bundle of craziness. I am an 11 after all, what with all my nervous energy and stuff.

Still, I probably won't sleep well tonight.

Reviewing 2010

2011-02-04T17:30:00.004-06:00

A year ago, I posted about things I'd like to do in 2010. Not resolutions, just things I thought would be great to do in 2010. Let's see how I fared last year . . .

~~Be more active - take yoga classes, ride my bike more, and swing dance again.~~ – Yup, I was more active in 2010 than I had been in previous years! I took a couple of yoga classes, but didn’t stick with them, but I did bike pretty regularly during the summer, took swing dancing lessons, and consistently went swing or salsa dancing once or twice a month.
Grow an herb garden that stays alive. – Fail. I attempted to grow herbs twice and they died both times. Then my RA thought I liked plants and gave me an orchid that also died within a month.
Start an investment fund. – Uhh, this still needs to happen.
~~Propose my dissertation.~~ – Yes! I totally did this and it was a great accomplishment!
~~Get a new job.~~ – Yup.
~~Find a new roommate. (One of mine is graduating, I love both my roommates!)~~ – Well, my new job includes a one bedroom apartment, so finding a roommate wasn’t necessary.
Clean the catbox more often. Maybe I started doing this, but my cat continued to pee on the carpet, so this is probably a fail.
~~Have less boy drama. (I probably say that every year, which is why these are just things to do, not resolutions).~~ – Hmm, depends on the definition of “drama.” If by drama, I meant not get super emotionally involved and heartbroken by some dude who’s just going to dump me, then I guess I kinda did this.
Bake bread every now and then. – I made banana bread once over the summer. Does that count? It had peanut butter and chocolate chips and was really yummy!
~~Apply for internship~~ OR decide what to do and where to live in 2011. – Yes! I applied for internship, and had 11 interviews J
~~Buy a used roadbike and~~ ride a marathon/race on it. – Got my Trek 2300, courtesy of Craigslist, but still haven’t ridden that marathon yet.
~~Read more non-fiction, non-academic books than I did in 2009.~~ – I at least started more non-fiction books than usual, so I’ll consider that a success.
Complete the Celebration of Discipline by Foster with my church small group, and start to practice more of those disciplines. (I'm sure there some fodder for some good Lenten practices in there) – We read this book through April or May, but I never finished it. I fasted a couple of times and confessed my sins more often, so this was semi-successful.
Take a daily photo. (check out my facebook account for the link to my flickr account, or comment and I'll email you the link) – I did this through March or April before I lost interest.

So, this is about a 57% success rate, which I'm actually pretty proud of. It seems like so often I have ideas of things I want to do or try, and then laziness or busyness with other priorities kicks in, and I don't do those things. Or I start them and don't finish them. So having set out these goals for last year and accomplishing over half of them does feel like quite an accomplishment for me. I made major career accomplishments (finding a new job, applying for internship, proposing my dissertation). I made lifestyle changes (starting to dance again more regularly, buying a bike, at least starting more books). It seems like every semester I resolve to be more physically active, but this was the year when I finally took steps in that direction by pursuing activities that I actually enjoy. I attempted some things (growing herbs, taking daily photos) that I didn't stick with throughout the year, but were still rewarding activities while I was doing them. I'm proud of myself for taking daily photos for at least a few months, because it was a new creative venture for me. I also challenged myself to write more on this blog, and I'm proud of that too.

What about you? What did you do last year that you were proud of?

slower

2011-01-17T15:53:00.005-06:00

Take a deep, slow breath. Hold it for a few seconds. Slowly exhale.

I had a busy end to an even busier semester, a couple of weeks off with my family and friends, and now I've spent the past two weeks going non-stop. I've had nine interviews, with two left to go. I've traveled to four different states, with one more to travel to tomorrow. Flown on 10 flights, with 2 more to go. Ridden 12 miles in a car to go to Oklahoma. I've got 11 more hours of car travel to go this week. I've talked about my strength, my growth areas, my most challenging supervision experience, what my clients have taught my, and what my goals are for internship countless times. I've asked over and over again, "What is your supervision style? How does your staff support intern self care?"

When I haven't been traveling to interviews, I've been working as a hall director, training RAs, opening the hall. Fortunately I've been able to see some dear friends in the past week, but even those times felt fast and furious. Most mornings I've been waking around 6am, and trying to go to bed earlier to accommodate those early mornings. I've had a couple of mornings where I was able to sleep in, and boy, did I take advantage of them. I've finished two books, am over halfway through a third, and a third through a fourth. I've been sick with a cold and suffered from an upset stomach after an unfortunate encounter with Thai food. I got an Android that now keeps me connected to gmail, facebook, google reader, weather forecasts, etc.

And now I'm taking some moments to breathe, sitting in a lovely coffee shop in Knoxville. I've prepared my questions for this interview tomorrow, already drove by it to make sure I know where to park, and soon I'll meet up with the friend that I'm staying with and we'll talk and catch up and go to dinner. But for now, this time is mine. Finally.

These past few weeks have been exciting, but oh I'm craving more time to slow down like this. More time for myself. More time to just breathe. This semester, I hope to have more free time than usual. I've kept dreaming up ways to fill that time - cycling, dance lessons, yoga classes, studying a foreign language. I've been so excited to finally have time for non-academic things like this, but maybe I don't need to fill up my hours with more time commitments, even if they are things that I love and will enjoy. Maybe I need to make this the semester where I finally learn how to slow down - or at least start trying to more. Maybe I'll drop into the chapel to pray. Maybe I'll go to a coffee shop and only bring a novel to read for my own pleasure. Maybe I'll take a slow walk around campus with no destination.

Maybe I'll start moving slower.

I am an eleven

2011-01-17T15:50:00.000-06:00

“You love purple, it must be your favorite color.”

The man in the black turtleneck standing next to me in the airport terminal tram commented. He was in his 50’s probably but had a youthful grin as he spoke excitedly.

“You must be a 7 or an 11.”

I had no idea what this meant, but the mention of the number “11” caught me off guard, as that’s my favorite number.

“Yeah, I love purple,” I replied, “That’s because I’m a TCU Horned Frog.”

“No, no, you must be a 7 or 11.” He obviously didn’t care about the Horned Frogs, but continued to speak and spout questions rapidly.

“What month were you born? 7 or 11? What day?”

When I told him I was born on the 11^th, his excitement grew.

“See, I knew you were an 11!”

“11’s like purple?”

“11’s are great leaders, great advisers, and they get better as they get older. You’re great at sales! I bet you could sell ice to an Eskimo!”

I laughed, “No, that’s not true of me.”

“Yes it is, well, maybe you’re not great at sales now, but you will be. You’ll get better as you get older. What year were you born?”

I told him, and he made some calculations with my birthdate, and continued his speale.

“That means you’re a 3-11! 95% of the country’s greatest sales people are 3-11s. They make millions of dollars. People like you, that’s why you’re good at sales. I do this for a living, I go to companies and talk with their employees about this.”

I just smiled and let him continue to rant about what a great salesperson I am, and as he exited, he said something finally that was true of me.

“It’s great being an 11, besides, you’ve got all that nervous energy.”

Then the most interesting comments followed.

“That’s because you don’t know why you’re here.” He looked me in the eyes as he passed to exit the tram, “And that, is the portal of God.”

Waiting by the phone . . . again

2010-12-13T11:29:00.004-06:00

I'm sitting at my practicum office, just waiting. Waiting for the phone to ring. Again. I have things to do but nowhere to be for another hour and a half, so it's not a total waste of time to just browse webcomics and write on my blog and sit and wait. And it's a good time reflect on where I am.

I'm waiting for another internship site to call me back. I applied to 16 different sites, have interviews with 9 of them, was rejected by 2 of them, and am still waiting to hear from 5 of them - which will happen by the end of this week. It's that crazy time when if I sleep past 8am on a weekday, the first thing I do is check my email because there could be an invitation for an interview in my inbox (and last week one morning there was). I answer my phone at unknown numbers now because it's usually an internship site (though on Saturday it was actually a wrong number). I've been playing phone tag with this one site since Friday, and that's the call that I'm waiting for. The receptionist said that she was just finishing with a client and would call me soon so that I can schedule an interview with this site, and that's what I'm waiting on.

It's a nervewracking and exciting time for me, but mostly exciting. It's kinda stressful looking for low-cost plane tickets and figuring out all the scheduling and travel arrangements, but mostly it's exciting. In January, I will be traveling to at least 5 different states, 2 of which I've never been to before. And one of them could be my new home for a year. Having never lived outside of Texas, this is all kinda crazy for me, but also exciting. I want to move away, at least for a year. I want to experience life somewhere else, with people who think and act different from me, surrounded by a landscape and maybe a climate that is nothing like what I'm used to. I crave this change.

Fortunately, right now this excitement is overshadowing my sadness of leaving, but the sadness peeks out sometimes too. Like last night when I placed my left hand on her shoulder at church, my dear friend of 2 and 1/2 years who is graduating and moving. We spoke a long, beautiful blessing over her and tears filled my eyes. Mostly it was sadness to be saying good-bye to my friend, but it was also sadness for myself as I realized that in five months people who love me will be speaking this same blessing over me as I leave.

Even crazier is this relationship that I'm in with a man that I'm starting to fall for. I told myself that I didn't care if I dated or not this year because I'm moving next year, and maybe I'll meet someone when I move away to a new place, a bigger city maybe, with new faces and other fish. And I really believed that, but I was still open to romance, I'm not going to close any doors because of my impending move. I'm happy and feel such peace that if this relationship is "meant to be", that it won't matter if I move across the country. Yet the timing of it is weird. It's kind of weird of God to put two anxious personalities together in a relationship right when one of those personalities is about to move. But maybe that's the point.

Even crazier about this relationship is that if things do pan out, if we do decide to spend our lives together, my life is going to change drastically. How I imagined my future, my career and the life that I envisioned, will be completely different. I don't know if I'll be able to make that choice and make that change, but now is not the time to decide. Long before meeting him, I've continued to surrender my desires and plans recognize that God could have something different in store for me than what I could dream up, and that is good and exciting and great. But now that I'm faced with this possibility, I'd be a liar if I don't admit that it freaks me out sometimes.

Ok, no call yet. It's time for me to pack up and go. The phone will ring when it will ring, and all of this will work out somehow.

I don't miss you

2010-11-23T18:17:00.005-06:00

This evening, while driving home on my bicycle, I thought about one of my best friends, a classmate, who went home early last week for Thanksgiving. I wished that she were still in town. I wished that I could see her before this upcoming Monday. I missed her. So I sent her a text message telling her that I missed her.

Which made me realize, I don't miss a lot of people. I don't miss my dad. I don't often miss my friends who live in other cities and states. Worst of all, I don't miss the guy I recently started dating who lives in another city. And all of these people, at some time or another, tell me that they miss me.

Am I cold and heartless? Am a horrible daughter, friend, significant other? Am I too selfish and absorbed in my current life that I fail to think about the people I care about who are far away?

Maybe. Probably not. I think the key is that the amount I miss people is almost directly related to how often I see them. My friends who live in town, who I'm used to seeing on a regular basis, those are the people I miss the most when I notice their absence. On Sunday, I saw a friend at church who had been out of town for a few weeks. I had missed her. Things happened that I wanted to include her in, but I couldn't. I wanted to talk to her at times, but I knew she was busy. I missed her and I was excited to see her return. My classmate I mentioned above? I see her 2-3 times a week, so after 6 days without seeing her, I miss her. Whenever I move or someone else moves? For a time, I miss those people a lot.

This applies to the friends and family who live in other cities. How much I miss them is related to how often I see them. The friends I see almost every two months? After 3 or 4 months, I start to miss them. The friends I only see every 6 months? Sometimes sooner, but by 9 months I start missing them. I'm used to these people not being a regular part of my life. I don't expect to see them more often than I do. So, how much I miss a person has less to do with how much I care about them but rather how often I expect to see or talk to them.

And the guy I'm dating? He says, "I miss you," and I say, "I'm excited to see you again." I don't miss him that often. I think this is two-fold. First, we've never lived in the same city and I don't expect to see him more often than we see each other. If we continue dating and I move to another state (which I hope to do next year), then I'd miss him. I imagine that if we were to go a day without talking, then I would miss him. Second, this relationship is so new and I'm not diving in headfirst like I usually do with relationships, so I'm still not quite used to him being a regular part of my life. In the past year and a half since my last serious romantic relationship, I've become quite happy and content with the single life I've been given here. Back in the spring, I recognized that I was happy and though I wanted to date, I don't want a guy coming in and messing with all the good things I'm enjoying now. I realized that any guy I let into my life in a significant manner better really be worth it to let him in and let him start messing up my daily routines and future plans.

But isn't this horrible not to miss the guy I'm dating? Shouldn't romantic love be all-consuming? Shouldn't I be swept off my feet and can't stand to be away from him? Maybe. Probably not.

sin pena

2010-11-18T23:29:00.004-06:00

Tonight, I reflected back on this past year, thinking about what I am thankful for. Looking back a year ago, I feel like I am in such a different place. Compared to a year ago, I feel healthy, whole, and free. Those seem like such vague words but they feel so true. I doubt that this post can capture much of what I reflected back on this evening, but perhaps in the near future I will find better ways to express these things.

Looking back on this past year, I have no regrets. My eyes filled with tears as I spoke those words to my church small group, my family, tonight. I don't know when in my life I could ever say that. This past year, I've experienced pain. I've been hurt deeply by people I care about. I've been taken advantage of. I have sinned in big ways. Repeatedly.

And yet, each time God has healed me. He has opened my eyes to who He is and who I am am. To teach me about myself. To sharpen me. To free me. Repentance. Submission. Freedom. Every pain, every sin, he has used for His good and for my good. And I'm thankful for every bit of it.

He is so gracious to me. The tears flowed as I choked out those words. I don't usually get emotional when I talk about spiritual things. But tonight I did, and it's yet another thing that I'm grateful for.

the highs are high

2010-10-19T18:57:00.005-05:00

Thank all that is holy!

Lol yes!!

Thank God!

These were some of the text responses from my classmates when I gave them the new that our adviser is finally writing his recommendation letters for us, after we complained last night about how they weren't done and he was texting us about SEM. Who gives a crap about SEM when we have applications due this week and next? Why are you bothering with that, Dr. E? Just write the stinkin' letters!

And so I was happy to pass the good news along when I received his text about having to stay up late tonight to write recommendation letters. This was just the last of several good pieces of news that I've received since yesterday regarding my application and dissertation proposal process. Last week was a low in this process, several things were stressing me out, and in the last 24 hours, they've all been reversed. It's incredible really, what a big difference things like recommendation letters, deadline extensions, transcripts finally in order, and helpful feedback on my essays makes.

And right now I'm utterly grateful. I still have a lot to do and a ways to go, but I'm energized and encouraged. God is answering prayers. Things are clearly working out as they are meant to, and in a good way. Peace and joy and hope have been restored to my heart, at least for now. I recognize that this process is a roller coaster and the next low could be right around the corner, but for now, I'm riding this high as far as it will take me.

And I'm not alone. In this past week, I've received so much support and love from my community. Friends have hugged me, prayed for me, laughed with me, cried with me. Friends, classmates, colleagues are helping me with my essays, giving me helpful feedback and helping me learn more about myself in this process. I realized today that I'm going to have so many people to thank come February when I match at my internship site. There is no way I could accomplish this by myself. It makes my heart swell with love and gratitude just thinking about it. Thank you.

I'm reminded of an odd but inspiring Bible story from Exodus 17. Moses was up on a hill, watching his people fight a battle and they would win as long as he held up his hands, but when he lowered his hands, their enemies started winning. But he wasn't alone. His brother Aaron and his friend Hur were up there with him, and when his arms grew tired, they lifted his arms until they had won the battle. They literally supported him and carried his burden when he was too weak to do so.

And so I feel like Moses in that story. I get tired, and weak, and anxious, and afraid, and depressed, but God has put people in my life, on my left and my right side, and you are supporting me in those weak moments. Thank you.

Though as I write this, I'm filled with a little piece of fear. Why am I moving away from these people? Why am I going someone where no one will hold me up when I'm weak? But those fears are utterly untrue. I'm going to another place where others will continue to support me, where I will work with great supervisor and peers and learn from them. And there will be another family waiting to embrace me when I arrive. It has to be true. I'm not going through all of this to just to fall when I get there. And this family I'm leaving behind? I feel that they are sending me forward. I wouldn't be going where I'm going without them, without you. And some of you are moving forward too, and I'm grateful to support you in your battles, to send you forward in your journey.

cried a river and drowned the whole world

2010-10-09T15:01:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, after hearing "Story of a Girl" pop up on Pandora, I was walking to the parking garage and felt the urge to sing it outloud. Except there was a guy walking in front of me and I was convinced that he would turn around and stare at me if I were to do such a thing.

Once in high school, while walking through the crowded halls in between classes (that must have been against fire code), someone started loudly singing, "Why do you fill me up Buttercup?" Someone else joined in. "Fill me up, Buttercup!" Several others started singing too. "Just to let me down, let me down!" I started singing, and pretty soon, the entire hallway was singing along as we shoved past each other on our way. This was before High School Musical, before the library musical Youtube video, before Glee. We had created our own spontaneous singalong.

More recently, in San Diego out and about celebrating our friend's birthday, suddenly the Michael Jackson music we'd been enjoying dancing to with an autistic guy (seriously, he had some sort of mental/emotional problems, but he was the funnest dancer we'd come across all night) halted a little too early for closing time. "What time is in?" the birthday girl asked. "It's birthday song time!" my friend, the former UT cheerleader exclaimed. She and I started belting "Happy Birthday" at the top of our lungs, and the entire bar joined in.

Remembering these experiences, I walked out of my residence hall, and started singing "Story of a Girl." I finished the chorus, no one was around to see or hear me, but I felt like it was a step.

Who says my life can't be a musical?

here we go again

2010-10-05T23:12:00.006-05:00

Today, I was relieved to start my period.

NOT because I thought I could be pregnant (let's not start any rumors), but because I thought I could be getting depressed. So I was relieved to discover that I'm probably not depressed, but was probably PMSing. I really should start charting, for a variety of reasons, one of them being that I won't be so worried about my emotional wellbeing when I find myself feeling depressed and overly emotionally for a couple of days.

And I realized that the emotional roller coaster of internship applications has begun. In the week, my moods rapidly change as I've felt accomplished, overwhelmed, anxious, relieved, depressed, proud, apathetic, excited, hopeful, despondent, competent, failing, and so on and some forth. Sometimes I feel despair for a few hours only to feel exhilaration and hope a couple of hours later until the next low comes. And this feels all too familiar. Almost four years ago, while going through the graduate school application process, I wrote this in a post -

It's amazing what a rollar coaster this application process has been and continues to be. One week, I'm stressed and worried that my applications won't make it in alright, and the next week I'm elated to receive two phone interviews. One day I'm relieved and joyous to turn in my final application, and the very next day I'm turned down by one of my top choices. I had no idea how emotional this would be. But I should have known. If it's not a boy, it's this, or a job, or a death, or a friendship, or a fight, or a trip abroad, or an illness, or a child. This is life. My one constant is my Creator and Savior who understands all of this and leads me, despite my fears and doubts and fickleness.

And so it begins again. I've strapped myself back into another roller coaster for another crazy ride for the next 5+ months of applications, interviews, rejections, rankings, heartache, and accomplishment. An intern recently described this process as like the graduate school application process on steroids.

Maybe I'm kidding myself, but I think I'm better equipped for this process that I was four years ago. I have great, knowledgeable people supporting me. I'm more accomplished and have clearer goals for my career. I have a cohort of classmates going through this process also. And maybe, just maybe, I'm older and wiser and less emotionally reactive than I was four years ago. I know that's true, and maybe this is a refining fire that will show me how I've grown and continue to mature me through the process. I already feel like I've been growing in self-knowledge and awareness in the past few weeks since I started this process.

Four years ago, this blog really took off as an outlet for me to write about that application experience. My supervisor today asked me how I was coping with this stress, and I have some things in place, but I realized that I haven't been writing about this experience. Talking and thinking and praying, but nothing tangible down on paper or on a computer screen that I can process and reflect back upon. So, maybe this is the beginning of a revolution without dancing renaissance in which I become a prolific writer once again. Maybe, this blog will become my partner once again, riding alongside me as I'm strapped into this little cart that at times feels awfully shaky but it will still get me to where I'm going.

joyful tears

2010-10-03T23:01:00.003-05:00

Tonight, I cried for joy for a dear friend. I don't know if I've ever cried tears of joy before, but if I had, they weren't like this suddenly overwhelming feeling of joy and excitement and shock and love that had to express itself in the most human way possible.

A lot of things have been on my mind this evening. I'd already planned on writing an entry when I came home tonight. But those things can wait. In the middle of everything else in my life and soul, it's a blessing to pause and remember this.

Tonight, I cried for joy and I want to remember that moment. Tonight, I experienced that I can love another person enough to move me to an emotional display that swept both of us away. Tonight, that is enough.

Winifred Napers Nephew

2010-07-27T08:05:00.001-05:00

I have a few drafts of unfinished blog posts saved. I just browsed through them, and found that this post was pretty complete. This one was from 2/8/10, about a month after I'd returned from a trip to New Orleans with some friends. After watching Inception last week, it's kinda fascinating to me again . . .

**********************************************************************************

I had an interesting nightmare last night. I was flying home from a trip with some friends, going through airport security, when a female TSA employee asked me a strange question, something about petroleum engineering, that had one of two answers. One of the answers seemed obvious, but I thought about it a little more, and decided that the less-intuitive answer was actually the correct one, though I knew that I had little knowledge about petroleum engineering. Apparently, I gave the "right" answer, and then was asked to come into a small room for further screening.

At this point, a man who's personality reminded me of the US Marshall on LOST began interrogating me, as the answer I had given was suspicious given that I'm not supposed to know anything about petroleum engineering. He asked me who I was, and claimed that I was not who I am, but instead a woman named "Winifred." He showed me a card, that had the name, "Patricia Napers Nephew" on it and asked me to read it. I read it, "Winifred Napers Nephew," and he said, "Aha, you are Winifred! You just gave yourself away!" And I said, "No, I just misread it because you had just said the word Winifred, you mislead me. And I used to live in Naperville, so the word 'Napers' was familiar to me." He did other things to try to trick me into saying "incriminating" things. He asked me about my parents and what they did. He sat me in front of computer with a recording device and asked me to say "important things" about myself, then left the room. I spoke into the computer and talked about being a Christian, my church, being a doctoral student, and my career goals. He came back in and asked me again how I knew the answer to the petroleum question if I wasn't Winifred. I told him that I was a doctoral student and very smart and was able to make an intelligent guess about it. Then, another student from my program came into the room and told me that another friend of ours had picked up the friends I was traveling with. Then, the man interrogating me said that my trial would begin next week. "Trial?!" I exclaimed, "What did I do besides answer a question?"

At this point I woke up. The entire nightmare was more interesting than scary, until the very end. At the point when the man mentioned me being put on trial, I was struck with fear, set into some sort of Kafkaesque scenario in which I was falsely mistaken for someone else and unable to prove my true identity. Now awake, I looked around, and reminded myself that I was still in bed, and told myself that this nightmare was just a dream.

iced coffee and Grizzly Bear, in which our heroine, big surprise, continues to coffee shop crush

2010-07-19T22:51:00.007-05:00

I'll invite him to the movie with me and my friends. That's pretty casual, it's not just me, it's a friends thing. It's an open invitation. Any friend can join, and he's a friend right? Friends talk about sociology and Narnia and couchsurfing and good music and stuff. If he comes, it won't be awkward, because I'll have other friends. And if he can't come, it's not a big deal, he'll know that I extended an invitation, and we'll see where it goes from there. If nowhere, then no big deal. This is a good idea. A simple plan.

Ok, how to implement the plan. I'll need to go back in side. Hmm, I need to go to the bathroom. And get some water. I'll talk to him when I get the water. If we get the chance to talk, then I'll ask him.

Ok, I'm pouring water. I actually am thirsty! He's right in front of me. But his back is turned. I'll linger for a couple of extra seconds. He's still not turned around. Should I say hello? He's busy with something. This is getting awkward, I better sit back down.

My friend wants to move inside. I look his way, and he greets me with a smile as we make eye contact. We set our things down. Great, I've got a good view of where he's standing. He's talking with coworkers. There aren't any other customers. He's not busy, I could go talk to him again now, but I'd have to talk to his coworkers too. No, I can't ask in front of them, that's too awkward.

He's at the end of the bar now, by himself. Now would be a good time. I'm lifting myself off of my seat. And gravity pulls me right back down into my seat. It's time for me to leave, I gather up my things, hug my friend, say my goodbyes.

I'm walking toward the door, looking over at them, his back is turn, but if I can make eye contact with any of them, then it's an excuse enough to go over and say goodbye. No one looks my way. I'm out the door.

I step out onto the sidewalk. The door shuts behind me and I halt. It's time to work against what's natural. I turn around, and walk back in. I walk up to the bar and am greeted by his coworker.

"Hey, I was wondering, does so and so still work here?"
"Yeah, let me look at the schedule . . ."

We converse about my friends and have a pleasant conversation, but he's still in the corner of my eye, still with his back turned, and I'm still wishing that I was having this conversation with him instead. Though the guy I'm talking to is a perfectly nice guy, always friendly and smiling when he sees me, and I enjoy talking to him too, he'd probably go to the movie with me and my friends. But that would actually be me extending an invitation to a friend. I wouldn't get worked up about asking this guy to join me for something. I wouldn't be as thrilled if he said yes.

The conversation ends, and I walk out, and this time I make it to my car.

How to guys do this? It continues to astound me. I'd like to think that I would have asked him, had we actually had a conversation after the idea popped into my head. I'd like to think that it would have been no big deal, that I would have been confident enough for that.

Or maybe there's a reason why I'm not a guy. Maybe I'd rather him be asking me to join him and his friends for something fun. Maybe that would work out better and feel more natural. But maybe I'm not patient enough to wait for that. Maybe I'm tired of waiting for the tide to come in and I just want to get off my butt and throw a stone into the water and see where it lands and what kinds of ripples it causes. I don't see the harm in initiating something when I just want to get to know a person.

Oh well, we'll have other opportunities to chat and get to know each other. They'll be some other invitation to extend. Plus, movies aren't a good way to get to know a person. Plus, I can think of many possible reasons why he's not a good idea. He's probably too young. He's probably not a Christian. He's probably flakey and noncommittal. He's probably married. I can always write a blog post to entertain you and release my frustrations for not having acted when I wanted to.

Coming soon, Iced coffee and Grizzly Bear Part II, in which our heroine discovers comically that her coffee shop crush is a gay married Satanist who is moving to Antarctica. Or just another immature college boy who doesn't know what he wants.

yellow, red, green, and blue

2010-07-07T14:22:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I had a day off. Not just a day without work or practicum like a weekend day, but a true day off. A day without anything scheduled. A day with no where to be. A day without obligations, work, academic, or social. A day in which no one expected anything of me. A day all to myself, on my own terms. I can't tell you the last time that I had a day like yesterday or whether I even enjoyed that previous day off.

But yesterday? Oh yeah, I enjoyed it. I savored and relished it, deciding that this day was a gift, not to be wasted, not to obsess over, but just to be lived however I see fit. I didn't try to pack in a ton of things nor did I beat myself up over what I should be doing. It was a day to be lived no matter what did or did not happen.

The only things that I had set to do were to ride my bike and work on a manuscript. This left me open to spontaneous fun moments like finger painting with my friend's three year old. On my bike ride, I decided to stop by their house just for a little bit before showering and making my way to a coffee shop to work on that manuscript. But then her precious son looked at me with his big blue eyes and asked me if I was going to stay and fingerpaint with him. I hesitated to answer and I'm a little ashamed at that hesitation. Even on my day off, there was still this drive for what I "should" be doing. I should take a shower and work on the manuscript. But I soon recognized that there was no room for shoulds on this day and I joined him in painting. "Do you think any other grad students in your program are finger painting on their days off?" my friend asked me. Probably not, but maybe it would be as good for them as it was for me.

As I sat next to him, helping him paint, I thought about the memory of children. Two months ago, he saw a dead headless pig on the side of the road and still talks about that pig. Next time I see him, and probably two months from now, he'll probably remember that we fingerpainted together. But what about two years from now? What about when he's 18 and I'm 40? Will he remember fingerpainting with his adult friend when he was three years old? Will he ever remember me gently wiping the paint off of his face with a wet cloth while he gazed at his painted face in the mirror, giggling at the sight of himself? Will I, for that matter, remember these moments and images with him without reading them on some old blog I had once?

And today I realized that it doesn't matter. A young child's memories may disappear and change as he grows older, but these experiences still impact him. He may not remember the specifics, but as an adult he will look back on his childhood and remember feeling loved. He will remember having adults in his life who cared enough about him to spend time with him, who were patient with him, who wanted to play with him and teach him and listen to his silly made up stories.

Yesterday I came out of a funk I'd been in for the past couple of weeks. A funk of stressing about comps, then still stressing after they were over, frequently feeling tired, unmotivated, judgmental of myself, and dissatisfied. I did fun things this past weekend, but I didn't fully enjoy them because I was frequently worrying about what thing I was going to do next. I wasn't present.

But yesterday was different. Yesterday I was present to my experiences, awake and alert, nonjudging. I lived that day like a child who just lives moment to moment. Though my young friend and I talked about going to the rodeo next weekend to see the cowboys and animals, he wasn't dwelling on his anticipation of that fun event. He wasn't playing with his fingerpaints thinking, "Yeah, this is fun, but that rodeo is going to be awesome." No, to him, in his world, what he was doing in that moment, yellow paint oozing between his fingers, was the best thing he could be doing. There was no dead pig in his past. There was no rodeo in his future. There was just yellow, red, green, and blue.

beards

2010-06-27T19:44:00.003-05:00

New Long-term Goal - get a picture of my husband on this blog. Ok future honey, if you don't already have a awesome beard, man up and grow one and let me bake you some delicious cupcakes! Babe, I really hope I don't have to seduce you with cupcakes and 15 minutes of internet fame to get you to grow some hair.

I'm taking my comprehensive exams tomorrow and Tuesday. 8am-5pm. Sitting at my computer, surrounded by notes and books, trying to write something coherent and impressive about diagnoses, case conceptualizations, ethics, multicultural issues, theories, constructs, research design, statistical analysis, internal and external validity, etc, drinking coffee, eating sandwich wraps and greek yogurt and trying to stay calm and confident.

Then I'll be free from this madness, and will celebrate my freedom with happy hour and swimming and cycling and Toy Story 3! My new to me bike sits in my living room, waiting for me to ride it again once this is all over. Oh, and then it's back to writing manuscripts and dissertations proposals, but I'm determined to reward myself with some proper summer fun once these exams are over. And writing for myself again. I want to write about money and sexuality and cycling, but we'll see what I'm actually inspired to write once I'm no longer tied to these exams.

I could look back on this examination time as one stressful part of this Ph.D. process that I'll be relieved to be done with, but there will also be good memories. Memories of how my friends and family have supported me and surrounded my with love during this time. How they prayed for me, spoke words of encouragement to me, emailed me their notes, loaned me books, cooked me dinner, made a study play-list for me. How though these exams are a test of my individual learning and accomplishments from the past three years, how it's so obvious that I'm very much not alone during this time. Though physically alone at this table, you are all beside me, incarnating Christ into my life, breathing the Spirit into me.

Good News

2010-06-20T10:50:00.003-05:00

What is the Gospel?

I struggle to define it, to describe it, mainly because I immediately think of the definitions and words and phrases that I've heard my whole life. There is probably truth in these recollections, but they feel a little stale and feel like I'd just be regurgitating something I've heard somewhere else instead of truly describing what the Gospel is to me, what I believe it to be, what it means to me. What words do I put together to describe that? Or maybe words aren't it. Maybe there's an image.

As I sat outside, pondering this question, I looked down at the grass. There was a small, orange, delicate butterfly perched on a blade of grass, gently opening and closing its wings. It wasn't a Monarch, but it was just as brightly orange, beautiful contrasted against the green grass.

And there was my image. It described to me a creation, a people, an individual utterly renewed by God's mercy and grace. It pointed to a coming Kingdom where all will be made right and all conflicts and disputes and lawsuits and wars and complaints and demands will cease. A Kingdom yet to come fully, but a Kingdom that can be present now. A Gospel that tells me that I am both a sinner and in need of grace and change but that I'm also fully accepted and fully loved, a Gospel that I can surrender to and that I can display as I love my family and strangers, as I love myself fully and receive God's love, as I advocate for myself and others, as I approach stresses and conflicts seeking God's grace and peace and compassion. There, I will find that delicate butterfly, renewed and beautiful.

one week

2010-06-13T00:53:00.004-05:00

I'm glad that I challenged myself to write one blog post a day this past week. I'm thankful for my friends who have encouraged me along the way. Looking back, I would say three of those posts I'm pretty proud of and really glad that I wrote. A couple of the others felt more like filler, but that's ok. I didn't challenge myself to write a spectacular post each day, just to write a post, and see what happened.

Beyond the end product, there was a process to this writing exercise that I'm glad that I engaged in. Before this week, I generally tended to kick around blog posts in my head for a few hours or a couple of days before I wrote them down. But this week has been different, because often I struggled to find inspiration to write something. Only one or two posts were really running around in my mind before they found their way out through my fingertips. Some were just me sitting down reflecting on my day or current status. Others emerged as the result of a friend's suggestion or essential conversations. It was these last that I'm most proud of. So, I've learned that that creativity can flow more spontaneously. Instead of trying to perfect something in my mind before giving it life, an idea can spark and lead to more associations and ideas that result in something I'm glad to have created.

I had a feeling that some days it would be more difficult to write than others, but overall this project was more difficult than I anticipated, mostly because I'd been sick this past week and much more tired than usual at the end of the day. The bacon post was the most exhausting day, I just wrote flippantly something to fill the void so that I could surrender myself to sleep as soon as possible. Interestingly, I also began another daily discipline this week by beginning a workbook that my church is going through together, which has also been difficult. I'm not usually big on workbooks, but I like the conversation that our church is having and doing this helps me to be more a part of it and has got me thinking more consistently about things that should more often be on the forefront of my thoughts.

So, what's next with my writing? Well, I've got some academic writing tasks ahead of me, writing a manuscript draft that I've been dragging my feet on and writing my dissertation proposal and writing answers to my comprehensive exams. All of those intimidate me, but I'd like to think that this past week of blogging has lessened my anxieties and apprehensions about those writing tasks just a little. Tomorrow I'm going to tackle that manuscript and I don't need to be a perfectionist about it. I can just write and bring things together and get moving on it. Sometimes, I need to move past my fears or my concerns about not knowing what to say and just challenge myself to keep moving ahead.

And my blog? Well, I hope that this has sparked a revival in my blog writing, but only time will tell. Will I do this sort of exercise again? I'd sure like to. Maybe again by the end of this summer, or later when I start my new job, or 6 months from now. Strangely, I like the idea of doing this again during a particularly busy time in my life (such as training for my new job or while interviewing for internship positions) as a way of forcing myself to stop, slow down, collect my thoughts, and reflect. I'm a fairly thoughtful, analytical person, but it's still easy for me to just get going and not stop to truly think about what I'm doing or learning.

Thank for reading and being on this journey with me. I look forward to writing again soon, tomorrow, in a few days, or next week. See you when I do . . .

whole

2010-06-11T18:54:00.006-05:00

There's a me who's kinda crazy and fun. Who wants to be spontaneous, who wants to do things because they're exciting and out of the ordinary. The me who wants to be sexy and a little wild. The fiery redhead. The party me who wants to make my own decisions as an individual and who doesn't want to be told what to do.

Then there's a me who is grounded, and wants to make wise decisions. Who wants to surrender, who wants to be giving and sacrificial. The me who wants to submit to my community and seek God's direction through them. The planner. The me who wants to do the "right" thing.

Then there's God who loves me. Who accepts me. Completely. Who created me and loves every part of me. And yes, He also wants to change me, but not in a way that I'm not me anymore.

And I recently recognized that unconsciously, I've believed that God didn't love that "party" side of me. That He didn't value my spontaneity as much as my sacrifice. And I've felt guilt over that part of me, that it was wrong or sinful and needed to be changed or needed to go away. And I'm coming to see the error of that way of thinking. There is much that is good about my "party" self and much that would be good about receiving God's love for all of me and for loving myself completely. I think that it will bring great freedom for me and freedom for me to love others more fully.

At times, I've found myself divided. Different people, different cultures, different circumstances bring out different sides of me. I feel like a chameleon at times, not that I've been acting fake or untrue to myself, but that I only show certain parts of myself at certain times and with certain people.

So I want my selves to be integrated. I want to love myself for all that I am and all that I'm not, I want to love myself in the way that God loves me, I want to remember and really recognize that He loves every part of me that He created, not just the parts that fit more closely with the religious culture around me.

ugh

2010-06-10T23:03:00.004-05:00

Today, I found out that one of my father's best friends committed suicide. I was shocked, but not shocked. This man had been chronically depressed, suffered from a chronic health condition that caused him constant pain, and his father committed suicide by shooting himself in the house.

But this was also a man that I will always remember as wearing an unruly beard and overalls even though he worked as a pharmacist most of his life. He was kinda strange and lived an unconventional life in many aspects but there was something endearing about the image that I have of him.

And now he's gone. He bought a shotgun and two days later used it on himself. My father spoke with him three days before he died and said that he knew that he was doing "worse" but he gave no indication of suicide. I don't want my father to feel guilt or regrets, but I wish that him or another one of his friends had asked, "Are you thinking about ending your life?" when they saw their friend deteriorating.

I can talk about suicide as a clinician. I can ask clients about it. I can refer tell them to call 1-800-Suicide. I can ask about risk factors, plans, methods, intentions, previous attempts. I can talk clients through a safety plan. I can talk about my QPR suicide prevention training. Assessing for suicidality is almost second nature to me at this point in my training.

But to think about this man I knew ending his life, to think about what my father might be feeling or thinking, though it's all filtered through this clinical training, this news, these facts, the images I imagine, I don't know what to say or think. In some ways it passes right through me like a ghost, like it didn't really happen to someone I know, like I just heard about it on the news, and it other ways it reaches inside me and swirls around in my chest, never quite settling anywhere.

Suicide isn't really second nature for me to face. I hope that as much as I may encounter it with clients, that I never lose touch with how precious and fragile life is and how tragic and ugly and horrible the taking of one's life is.

salty and sweet

2010-06-09T22:45:00.002-05:00

Godiva chocolate bacon . . . really disgusting? Or insanely delicious?

Talk amongst yourselves.

the relationship between bananas and Jesus

2010-06-08T21:35:00.008-05:00

"Peel, bananas, peel peel, bananas!"

He towered over the toddlers, arms stretched overhead, as he began singing and dancing in the motions of a banana peeling. They didn't dance or sing along or even giggle or smile. They just stared at him, mesmerized by this tall dancing man.

"Peel, bananas, peel peel, bananas!"

Somehow remembering this from some days at camp long ago, I began singing along and laughing as we sang as his wife laughed along with us.

"Go bananas! Go, go, bananas!"

I was there in the walkers and crawlers (a technical term referring to children under the age of two who can crawl or walk) class a couple of weeks ago because our church small groups alternate taking care of the kids during church services and I had missed a week I was supposed to serve because I had been vacationing in New Orleans. After being barraged with mass emails stating, "You missed a Sunday serving, we need YOUR help this Sunday to fill in," I finally gave in and volunteered for this Sunday after seeing that other friends of mine had volunteered too.

"Peel, bananas, peel peel, bananas!"

Round two of the song, and the kids still weren't showing any sign of wanting to sing or dance along, but continued to stare up at my tall friend. I grabbed the hands of the curly-haired blonde girl on my lap and moved her into the motions. She just stared at me with her huge blue eyes, with the same serious expression that she'd held throughout the evening. I never saw her smile and the most emotional expression I saw from this stoic child was when I sat her down on the floor prematurely and she looked up at me seriously, grunted a little, and began flapping her hands, which I took as her communication for, "Please, I urgently need you to pick me up again!" Of course, I was happy to comply with her nonverbal requests and she spent most of the evening on my hip or in my lap.

"Peel, bananas, peel peel, bananas!"

Myself and my two friends in that class helping would readily admit that we're not kid people. As I've written before and before, I feel kinda awkward around kids. I like kids, some more than others, but I often have trouble relating to little people who don't talk like adults. I think I'm getting better at this and find that I can connect with my nephew or kids from my church and it's actually pretty fun. And strangely, I've been feeling more maternal urges lately, when I've never felt like a very maternal person. Strangers' kids on the street catch my eye more often, they seem cuter than they used to, and the idea of me having my own kids sometime in a few years sounds pretty nice to me these days.

"Go bananas! Go, go, bananas!"

So, my friends and I were serving these kids. We carried them, we fed them, we held them when they cried (which thankfully all but one didn't cry too long), talked to them as if they were adults (because we didn't know how else to talk to them), sang to them, played music for them, and I even assisted as my friend changed a diaper, too much of a wimp too change it myself. Though none of us would claim to be great with kids or eagerly volunteer for babysitting, we did pretty good with them that evening. As best we could, we were Jesus to those kids.

"Then little children were brought to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked those who brought them. Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there."

Jesus valued kids and stated that the kingdom was for them, much as he valued other marginalized people groups and showed special care and concern for them. And so I'm called to show love to children, to old people, to the mentally ill, to drug addicts, to rape victims, to cultural minorities, to the homeless, to people who have been victimized or marginalized by society or somehow told that they weren't worth it. These are the people to love for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them. And it challenges me. It doesn't feel natural to hang around a kid. I have friends who make it look so natural, who love being with children, who know exactly what to say or do or not say. But natural or not, I'm still called to love them.

"This is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S!"

We decided to switch it up, and brought in a G-rated version of Hollaback Girl to sing and dance too. And as much as we were Jesus to those kids, they were Jesus to us.

"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'

They were Jesus to me, accepting me, being patient with me, challenging me. And I'm so thankful that I had the chance to go bananas with them.

*Inspired by and dedicated to Katie

sickness

2010-06-07T21:59:00.003-05:00

I caught a virus, and my computer did too. Or, it almost did. I don't like being sick yet I also kinda like it. I like it because it feels like my body screaming, "SLOW DOWN," and gives me an excuse to sleep as much as I want and watch movies and tv and have friends cook for me. Though mostly I don't like it, and as I relax and take care of myself and down kombucha and coldeeze, I keep hoping that I'll get better as soon as possible. I also don't like that I seem to get sick much more than I used to, which makes it seem like there's something about my lifestyle or maybe just the horrible pollen here that's breaking down my immune system

One of my friends last night told me, "Stop getting sick so much!" which annoyed me at first because really, it's not like I chose to get sick. But we talked about multivitamins and things I could do to help boost my immune system year round. I feel like I can hear a parent's voice saying, "Slow down, you're so busy, you're wearing yourself out," which also annoys me. As I mentioned in a previous post, I've been out of town more than I've been in town these past couple of weeks. So perhaps all of this travel and driving north and south and east and west has worn out my body. Perhaps multi-vitamins would help. Perhaps more exercise would help. Perhaps being done with grad school would help. Perhaps. Perhaps.

keep it weird

2010-06-06T23:18:00.002-05:00

It's a city that engages my mind, body, heart, spirit, and all of my senses.

A city where I receive the best massages that leave me with bruises. A city where I dance giddily with partners, laughing as if I've never smiled so much while dancing. A city where I slip and fall while dancing. A city where the guy I ran into while falling asks me to dance next.

A city where I enjoy music outside in the heat as sweat drips down my thighs. A city where music invades me as rain pours down. A city where I dance to the music I love the most. A city where I sit quietly, in awe of the sounds and sights that I'm experiencing.

A city where lost loves are mourned. A city where romance awakens. A city where I last enjoyed my grandmother.

A city where one moment I'm sweating in the heat and the next I'm shivered in the cool, invigorating spring waters.

A city where the best sushi is served from a trailer. A city where donuts are gourmet foods. A city where the best coffee is an artform.

A city where the strangest of strangers become friends. A city where I realize that great friends are more similar to me than I could have ever imagined.

A city where I experience just how much God loves me. A city where God shows up on a green hillside or in the hands of a homeless man or in the eyes of a friend or in the lyrics of a song.

Maybe it's a city where I'll reside someday, but for now, it's a city that I love. A city that I've been blessed to get to know over the past three years.

Any of these could be the opening lines to a legitimate blog post

2010-06-05T21:24:00.000-05:00

"Girls start out more mature than guys. Their biggest weakness is their hearts, but girls just go through a few heart breaks, then they become women." "Hmm, I've been through some heart breaks, am I a woman?" Pause. "Yes, you're definitely a woman."

Are you a lover or a runner?

Since I've moved into my summer house, I've spent more nights away than I have in my home for the summer. It's been fun and exciting (very exciting at times), but also tiring and nomadic. I want to get settled in and feel at home, but I'm not sure if this summer will let me. I may have to fight my summer schedule to really feel at home, like I did last summer in a way that came so naturally and easily to me.

Packing to go to a conference on psychotherapy with men, I had a hard time deciding what to wear. I didn't want to wear something that was too "feminine." Wait, why does this matter? Gender is funny, and I've been thinking about it a lot.

Christian belief and Christian practice. The past several years, I've been very turned off from studying or thinking or talking about Christian "doctrine." Even writing the word now makes me uncomfortable. But I'm recognizing again (somewhat reluctantly) that it is important, that what I believe about my faith is important, and why I believe it is important. I readily and eagerly embrace that Christian practice is important, and I'm coming to see (and hope to learn more) how doctrine is essential to practice, that right beliefs drive right actions. I'm a reluctant theologian.

I'm recognizing how much I love dancing and how closely it relates to my confidence in myself in other areas of life. A week ago, for the first time I can remember, a friend told me that I was a good dancer. Then a few days ago, a dance partner told me that I was a confident dancer. I'm thankful to be at this place with my dancing and myself.

I'm going to teach my good friend how to ride a bike again. Sometimes, "It's just like riding a bicycle," isn't an accurate metaphor.

Just some random spattering of thoughts. This week, I'm beginning a writing exercise, I'm going to write at least one blog post a day for this entire week. Let's get into gear.

Featured on academichic blog!!!!

2010-05-19T12:52:00.003-05:00

A link to my recent blog post plus one of my photos was featured on academichic because of my participation in their Dress Your Best Week! Hehe, I feel a little famous, and I'm thankful that the academichic bloggers noticed how many of us wrote about learning to love our bodies in ways that don't fit the norms of what society tells us is beautiful.

waiting for the storm

2010-05-17T22:23:00.004-05:00

As soon as I stepped outside, books in hand, I knew that the storm would arrive any minute. As I sat down on the patio table, the powerful wind pushed against my back. I decided to ignore the imminent weather and carry on as I planned, beginning with journaling. As I began writing, the weather soon became hard to ignore. The wind continued, building speed. A small branch broke off of the tree and hit the roof, tumbling down to the ground. Instead of ignoring the storm, I embraced it, using it to fuel my writing. I wrote my thoughts and prayers. The wind picked up. I wrote my desires and hopes. The trees shook. I wrote of my trust and surrender. The hairs on my arm bristled as the temperature dropped. I continued writing, covering pages with emotions and truth. Another branch landed on the ground. The wind picked up and blew a magazine off of the table. The bush behind me leaned forward, tickling my back. The clouds grew darker, then strangely lighter.

I looked up from my pages. Dark clouds raced past the lighter ones. I looked down again. The glossy cover of the book next to the journal was dotted with moisture. I continued writing and determined to stay outside until the storm began. My hopes that the storm would come before I finished writing weren't realized. I opened my book, found my place marked with a receipt, and hadn't read two paragraphs before I started noticing one, two water drops on the pages. I read a little further, and the drops increased. I closed my book, left the table, and stood on patio. Drops of rain began to land on my hair, my arms, my clothes. The cold wind soared past me. Thunder began to crack. I kept waiting, waiting for the rain to come in full.

I expected it to come on suddenly, drenching me without warning, but this storm crept in softly. The raindrops increased. I felt them on my cold skin. I put my books under the porch to protect them from what was surely about to come. And it came.

I stood on the patio, I stretched my neck back, letting the rain hit my face. I spread out my arms, and began to pray.

Lord, forgive me. Wash me, make me clean. Baptize me, wash my sins away. Wash away all my sorrows, my disappointments, my insecurities, my fears, my pride. Wash it all away, clean me, free me! Make me new!

I began to move as I prayed and as I received my answers. I spun around, slowly at first, but soon faster. I smiled. I laughed. I threw my arms above my head. I threw my head back again and again, smiling upwards at the clouds above me.

A fat raindrop plopped into my eye, and I decided this was my cue to return inside. I walked back under the shelter of the porch, but realized that I hadn't had enough. I went back out onto the patio, and spun, and danced, and laughed some more. More satisfied, I walked inside and wiped the rain off my face with my hands and arms and listened as the storm raged outside.

Dressing my best - Tuesday, May 11th - Legs! Fair skin!

2010-05-15T22:39:00.010-05:00

I have a love/hate relationship with my legs, but this week has encouraged me to try to show more love to my legs. Sadly, I have spent much of my life feeling ashamed of the perpetual paleness of my legs, often feeling uncomfortable wearing shorts or skirts the showed too much skin, exposing the blinding whiteness of my legs. From my friends, I alternately receive comments that I shouldn't be so shy about showing off my legs or comments that my legs are so pale, and "Gosh, can you even tan?" making my pale legs a great source of embarrassment.

When I first saw this picture from Tuesday, I was embarrassed at how pale my legs look compared to my olive-skinned, Italian-descended friend. However, thinking about it more, we're both gorgeous women, we just have different looks and body types and skin tones.

It's time for an attitude change. Though not radiantly tan, I have great legs. My legs are long, lean, and muscular enough. My legs are beautiful, functional, strong, and sexy! And I'm also coming to appreciate the alabaster shade of my skin. I often observe pale beauties, such as this model from www.modcloth.com with envy that they can look so strikingly beautiful with their paleness.

I've decided to stop envying these models, and enjoy the fact that I can also look strikingly gorgeous as a pale-skinned, red-haired, blue-eyed, thin woman! A big reason why I can pull of the henna-dyed red hair is because of my fair complexion, so I'm thankful that I have a look that is so versatile. I think that redheads are absolutely gorgeous, anytime a redheaded man or woman walks by, I'm always checking them out. It's been exciting for me to embrace the look in the past several months. So, I decided this week to show off my great legs, with this dress from H&M -

Trying to show off my dress at the bar where I sang "Bohemian Rhapsody" at karaoke night with a few friends -

A pretty "leggy" shot from this angle -

Lovin' on my ivory legs -

So, I'm thankful for this exercise to love my body for all that it is. I hope that in the future that I will feel less shame about my fair skin when I'm surrounded by tan friends, but instead feel thankful and blessed that I have a such a unique, beautiful look. I hope that my friends reading this post can also be challenged to love the parts of themselves that they may not always see as beautiful.

other people's love stories

2010-05-13T23:52:00.005-05:00

I often feel like I just keep playing a weird part in other people's love stories, over, and over again. I'm that girl the hero thinks he's in love with, and then he meets someone else, or he realizes he's still in love with that other girl he thought he wasn't in love with anymore. Or I'm the quirky friend urging the heroine to follow her heart or stay careful or chase her dreams. Except in this rom-com, the quirky female friend doesn't fall in love with the awkward male friend. Not yet at least.

And likely someday I'll have a love story of my own, where I get to play the heroine and I get to share romantic adventures with the hero. And those who's parts I've played in their love stories? They will be the strange characters in my love story, the boys who didn't love me enough or who lost my love, the boys I fell for but who weren't meant to stick around. They will be Sally's Joe, or Prince Humperdink (ha!) or Kathleen Kelly's Frank Navasky. Some of them will be Franks, the dutiful boys who would have stayed with me had I not let them go, but more of them are Joe's.

But for now I'll be Parker Posey or Judy Greer or (worse) James Marsden before 27 Dresses.

This is the story of the boys who loved you
Who love you now and loved you then
And some were sweet, some were cold and snuffed you
And some just laid around in bed.

Some had crumbled you straight to your knees
Did it cruel, did it tenderly
Some had crawled their way into your heart
To rend your ventricles apart
This is the story of the boys who loved you
This is the story of your red right ankle.

But wait, why does my story have to revolve around love and romance and relationships? Who said that the only story worth telling is about a man and a woman falling in love? Ok, everyone says that, it's all over our culture, everywhere you turn around. But do I have to buy that, hook, line, and sinker? Why should I write my story around someone else? What kind of a frail human actually holds that kind of power in my life, that I would want to write my story around him? Why should I believe that my biggest desire, my greatest source of fulfillment is in falling in love?

The first few paragraphs of this blog are sadly easier for me to feel and believe at times, but despite all the confusion I feel, I really do believe that the above paragraph is more true. That I have a life to live, and purpose to pursue and it's happening NOW, whether I'm single, engaged, married, a mother, a daughter, a student, a psychologist, a sister, whoever I am, I am me and I have so much to give and offer to those around me. I'm just as much me now as I would be me if I were married or with a Ph.D. in my hand. Why do we keep believing that single people are just married people who haven't found their "better half" yet? Why do I swallow these lies again and again?

Sometimes, I'm freed from those lies. I spent most of this semester remarkably happy to be single, loving my life and my relationships, and not even really desiring to be in a relationship, because having a dude around would just mess up all the good things I've got going on, and he's got to be really worth it for me to mess my life up for him. I wish I felt that happy and content this consistently now, but lately it still comes in moments and waves. It comes in moments when I'm surrounded by my family that loves me, when they wrap themselves around me with love and support. And it comes in quiet moments, when I sit on my bed and type and contemplate these things and when I stretch back onto my pillow and pray and remember that I have all that I need, that my Father doesn't withhold any good gifts from me, and that this is good. That it's good to be me, a student, a counselor, a friend, a sister, and I don't need to be anyone else right now. It's good. And those boys that loved me or who didn't love me? Well, it's good for them to be themselves, they're not some pawns in mine or anyone else's story, they're valuable humans created by God, just as I am. If I'm just a character in someone else's story, it's not a silly human fable, it's a divine story, a sacred story.

Besides, Parker Freakin' Posey is pretty freakin' fabulous.

Dressing my best - Monday, May 10th - Eyes & Hair

2010-05-13T22:56:00.013-05:00

Monday, May 10th I gave a pre-proposal presentation before faculty and students about what I intend to study for my dissertation - a perfect opportunity to dress my best! I decided to highlight my blue eyes and henna-dyed red hair.
To do this, I chose to wear vivid colors that make a nice contrast to my colorful features. I'm glad I did too because a couple of the other young women presenting wore all black dresses, so I enjoyed standing out and showing my personality with color while I presented!

Green lace top - New York & Co.
Black skirt - H&M
Gold shoes - Cato
Pearl necklace - Gift from mom
Coral scarf - Bazaar in Cappadocia, Turkey

Thanks to the travels of myself and friends, I now have a growing collection of international scarves, which I decided to try out with this outfit . . .

Inspired my Academichic's recent post highlighting "tight" color combinations, I've been playing around with pairing colors that are close together, such as pairing this forest and lime green scarf (also from Turkey) with my lighter green top -
Staying with the cool colors, I paired it with this turquoise scarf from Bangladesh, a gift from a dear friend. I like that there are some green threads that mingle with my green top. I also think this color of great for highlighting my eyes, something I played with later this week.

Another contrast with this orange and yellow striped scarf my friend gave me from Spain -

But I'm quite happy with the coral scarf I chose to wear that day, and I'm also quite happy with how my presentation turned out and the gracious comments and suggestions that my colleagues offered me.

Which is your favorite scarf color combination with this outfit?

Dressing my best!

2010-05-12T19:29:00.003-05:00

I'm participating in Dress Your Best Week with with Academichic. Stayed tuned as I add fashion posts about how I'm dressing my best to highlight the aspects of my body that I love the best - my eyes, hair, legs, butt, and feet!

countdown

2010-04-30T18:00:00.003-05:00

10 more days!

1 more year . . . 2-2&1/2 more years . . . 3-4 more years . . .

Countdowns aren't as exciting when I realize all the other things I could be counting down toward.

Translation - Time . . . until I'm done with this semester . . . until I'm done with classes . . . until I earn my doctorate . . . until I become licensed . . . unless I move out of the country or get knocked up before any of those things happen, which under the right circumstances, neither would be bad at all.

Perhaps it's crude, and I wouldn't use the term to refer to my friends' pregnancies, but if I ever get pregnant, I will refer to myself as knocked up. I love the phrase because it usually refers to an unplanned pregnancy, and to a certain extent, I believe that all pregnancies and most of life's other events are unplanned. Even when planning a pregnancy, there's no guarantee that a couple will conceive exactly when they want to. Without getting into too much of a soapbox, I think birth control methods give us the illusion that we can control our life events completely around our plans.

Screw my plans. I put too much stock and security in them. I'll make my plans and carry some of them out, but I still want to remain completely open to getting knocked up. I want to be open to whatever God brings into my life without my planning, be it a new opportunity, job, career, ministry, relationship, whatever those things are that could tear into my life, assaulting my carefully made plans in such a way that my life course is so radically different than what I anticipated, but better, stronger, more rewarding than anything my boring head could have dreamed up.

So go ahead, knock me up! I'll probably start kicking and screaming and try to run in the other direction when you do, but maybe I'll remember writing this post and it will help me to surrender.

Sigh. 10 more days!

tears held gently

2010-04-28T00:32:00.005-05:00

I should be in bed.

I've been telling myself that the past 6 evenings. Meaning that I've spent almost a week staying up past my bedtime, past the point when I'm tired and my body and eyes and mind tell me that I should sleep. I hate this, it's silly, I feel like going to bed, and going to sleep will be good for me, but I fight what's good for me - why? I'm not sure. Anxiety? Distraction? Sleep doesn't seem distracting enough right now.

So, I will finish this brief (I hope post), read the Psalm I'm praying through this week (a neat idea that someone shared Sunday), and enjoy the sweet embrace of sleep and tell myself once again that I will not do this tomorrow night and maybe I'll mean it this time.

Tonight, I sat with a dear friend, tears held gently in both our eyes, and she looked into my eyes, with such a look of love and empathy that I knew that she was truly seeing me, and then this friend told me how God is doing something really special in my life and it's been a blessing for her to be a part of it and watch me go through all these things in the past two years. She told me how I've shown her how to balance giving to others and asking from others.

And I write it down because I want to remember those moments forever. I want to always be able to close my eyes and remember vividly the expression on her face and the precious words she spoke, but mostly I hope to remember her face tonight.

"For to see your face is like seeing the face of God . . ."

solitude

2010-04-19T21:06:00.008-05:00

Here I sit, on the patio of a beautiful coffee/wine bar, sipping on mint hot chocolate, listening to the bubbling fountain under the auspices of working on statistics homework. It's about 5 degrees too cold and 3 mph too windy to truly be comfortable, but the slight chilly breeze is keeping me alert and aware. I've been here many times before, in various circumstances, with new friends, dates, family, enjoying music, and by myself. Today this recalls a time when I came here one evening last summer, by myself, enjoying the warmth of the sun still in the sky on those long days, reading a book that spoke to me, no, sang to me, about the love of God. On that evening, like this one, I felt lonely, but felt the need to embrace my solitude.

So there and here I sat and sit, part of me longing to reach out to a friend, part of me wanting to just be. left alone. but the inner part of me knowing that God is here in these moments of aloneness and pain, just as He's present with me, in me, around me in the moments of friendship, laughter, music, and dancing. So I breath deeply the cool air, straining my neck toward the dark sky above the trees, knowing that He is here. Guidance, answers, healing, laughter, music will all come later, but for now, all I need is to know that I am here and He is here.

anti-climactic

2010-03-23T17:36:00.004-05:00

Apparently a big, important, fancy bill was passed today.

How has the public at large responded?

Have I witnessed crowded parades cheering? Mothers crying tears of joy? Or men and women taking to the streets, crying, "Fascism!"

No, not really.

Have I felt a tangible wave of excitement in the air among the individuals I walk by? Or a cloud of dread hanging over their heads?

Not exactly.

Just some facebook comments revealing mildly excited praise, a couple of good-tempered debates, and muted criticism. No angels singing. No devils cackling. Just one anarchist friend ranting, but he'll always find something rant about as long as we have a government, now won't he?

I'm sure in due time there will be emails and symposiums about What This Will Mean for Our Dear Profession, but right now we're more concerned about passing statistics and deciding where to apply to internship.

I have a feeling that someone is sad that she wasn't the mother who birthed this bill, but dry your tears ma'am, there are still problems in the Middle East to attend to, and you could get 1/4 credit for solving them if you keep your chin up and roll your dice right.

By the way, I'm still here, in the blagosphere.

looking forward a bit

2010-01-28T10:25:00.004-06:00

It's been a fun first week and a half back in CS, filled with dancing, nertzing, good weather, biking, photography, shopping, cooking, flea killing, flirting, yogaing (yoging?), and catching up with my family that I love here. Truly, I couldn't ask for better times in the BCS than these.

But all good things must come to an end as the semester begins in earnest this week. And as fate would have it, the first week that I actually have things due is the same week that my computer starts freaking out on me, periodically shutting down for no good reason and then refusing to start until the next day. Fortunately, I have a new battery traveling on a UPS truck headed for my house and my roommate's computer to borrow as a backup on the days when my computer decides that it just will not start. Also, last week I backed up all of my school-related documents on dropbox.

I'm excited about this semester, for nothing else but the fact that I have more flexible time than I've possibly ever had in grad school, allowing me to schedule things like yoga classes and swing-dancing lessons during the week instead of having to plow through 12-hour day and after 12-hour day waiting for the weekend to take a breather. Still, it's an odd schedule, and I still have many things to accomplish this semester, forcing me to figure out how to structure my time in a productive manner. I'm busy almost every evening of the week until 8 or 9, but I have most of my mornings free. I tend to be more productive during the day time, but I also have great difficulty getting out of bed when I don't have somewhere to be or an imminent deadline, so I'm scheduling yoga classes, meetings with professors, and appointments with clients to ensure that I get my bum up and out and moving and doing. Hopefully I can make the most of my free time in the afternoons and mornings and not get stressed out trying to make deadlines at the last minute. Which I'm kinda doing today.

And I'm writing a brief blog post instead of reading or writing for another 10 minutes :P

Rubber and canvas

2010-01-15T00:19:00.004-06:00

After working up my courage for three or four songs, I finally approached the attractive young man also looking out of place sporting Converse sneakers at a country and western dance hall. With a tap on the shoulder and a, "I like your shoes," our very brief conversation began. Immediately, I got a gay vibe from him. He didn't ask me to dance and I didn't ask him, and our conversation soon halted. He turned a smidge back towards his friends, and I quickly turned out and walked back to mine without even saying good-bye. Which I guess wasn't too rude considering that we had never said hello.

I don't know how guys do it. Err, at least sober guys. The drunk ones seem to have no trouble flirting, as they forget or mishear my name and call me "Debbie" and "Casey." Just the idea of asking someone to dance, not expecting more than a dance, makes me nervous. Sometimes I wish I were a guy and had the opportunity to be more forward with the opposite sex, but often I realize that it's harder than it looks, taking a certain gutsy vulnerability that I sometimes possess.

Looking back, I wished that I'd stayed and introduced myself to him and his friends. They seemed like a good bunch, just a group of friends having fun together, like my friends and I were. We probably would have found some things in common. Oh well, I'll keep dancing and keep my eye out for other fellow Converse souls and keep myself open to more possibilities of friendship and romance.

Things to do in 2010

2010-01-11T21:54:00.005-06:00

I dislike the term "resolution" because it invokes a sense of dreadful pressure, that I have "resolved" myself to do something, to carry out some new task or habit, which if I don't live up to it, I will feel defeated, guilty, and discouraged. True, we should feel sorrow when we disregard our word, break promises, and fall through on commitments, but this western tradition of New Year's resolutions seems to bring more negative emotions than necessary. To avoid unnecessary shame and defeat, this is not a list of resolutions. I am not resolving to doing any of these things in the year 2010. Instead, this is a list of things that I would like to do in the coming year. Hopefully in 2011 I will look back at this post and rejoice that I did most of these things. Also, these are just a list of activities I'd like to do, not any goals about my character or inner person. For more on that, please refer to my previous post, which relates to how I would like to be a better lover in the coming year.

Be more active - take yoga classes, ride my bike more, and swing dance again.
Grow an herb garden that stays alive.
Start an investment fund.
Propose my dissertation.
Get a new job.
Find a new roommate. (One of mine is graduating, I love both my roommates!)
Clean the catbox more often.
Have less boy drama. (I probably say that every year, which is why these are just things to do, not resolutions)
Bake bread every now and then.
Apply for internship OR decide what to do and where to live in 2011.
Buy a used roadbike and ride a marathon/race on it.
Read more non-fiction, non-academic books than I did in 2009.
Complete the Celebration of Discipline by Foster with my church small group, and start to practice more of those disciplines. (I'm sure there some fodder for some good Lenten practices in there)
Take a daily photo. (check out my facebook account for the link to my flickr account, or comment and I'll email you the link)

Yup, those sound pretty good for now.

surely he taught us to love one another

2009-12-26T12:29:00.004-06:00

Love. Is something I seem to be learning a lot about lately, and also am learning how little I know how to practice.

As Christians, we are told to love. To love God, to love others, to love our family, to love our neighbors, to love the church, to love our enemies, not to love the world, not to love money. We know that we are to love, that's a no-brainer. But to love the people we are commanded to love, I'm learning that this is a more difficult task that I ever realized.

"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers" 1 John 3:16

Love is laying down our lives for others. But what does that look like? Sacrificing all at the expense of our own spirits? Doing everything that a person asks? Giving another person everything they want? That doesn't seem like love. It seems more like spoiling a child. It's hard when someone says, "This is how you should love me," and when you don't do, they don't feel loved. But are we really responsible for making others feel loved? This is hard for me to accept, but I do believe that we can love others without them feeling love.

A friend and I recently had a great conversation about loving others. About how loving someone means trying to meet their needs, not their wants. Meeting someone's wants provides instant happiness and the other person may say that they feel loved, but truly loving someone, truly meeting their needs should provide for their eternal well-being, truly loving someone doesn't always produce those warm fuzzies that I'm likely somewhat addicted to. It's easy to know what someone wants to feel loved, but it's a more difficult task, requiring prayer, patience, and understanding, to discern what another person that I'm trying to love truly needs.

Sometimes, people need the truth spoken to them, even if it doesn't seem loving on the surface. As an only child who loves to preserve harmony around me, this is something that doesn't come naturally to met at all. It seems that I'm learning these skills simultaneously as a therapist to my clients and as a daughter, friend, sister to others in my life. My supervisor this past semester, in encouraging me to confront a client about unhealthy behavior, told me, "You can say almost anything if it's coming from a place of love and compassion." I have a feeling that this statement will stuck with more than anything else a supervisor can tell me. It's true, if my motives are love, concern for the longterm well-being of another person, then I can say something hard to hear, but it can still be loving, and hopefully will be received well. But if I'm saying it out of fear or selfishness or anger or bitterness, then it probably won't be received well, and it's not loving at all. But this isn't my temptation. My temptation is to say too little, to preserve the peace. Maybe it's not even the path of true peace.

So, I'm learning to be better lover. It's a long journey, and I recognize that it's the whole point why I'm a Christian. There are a lot of things that seem good about me naturally. I'm good at being kind, at being considerate, at being thoughtful, and at times, being loving. But I'm also good at trying to protect myself, at fearing the loss of relationships, at being prideful, at being jealous, and all of these things hinder my true expressions of love. And this is where I need God to continue his work in me, to continue to bring situations and individuals who strip away the areas of fear and who encourage me to love more truly. I need His grace to make me a better lover.

everybody's coming to get me, just say you never met me

2009-12-14T16:53:00.002-06:00

So, I have my moments of paranoia that at time lead me to take unnecessary and sometimes dramatic precautions. In high school, I once arrived home to an empty house to discover the phone lines weren't working. Because sometimes in movies the bad guy cuts the phone lines so the victim cannot call for help, I grabbed a big kitchen knife and dramatically kicked open every door in the house. I'll admit, I took such dramatic actions half for the fun of it, the fun of pretending that I was in a spy movie or something. Sometimes I'll worry that a car is following mine when a car behind me begins making the same turns at me. I'll begin making unusual turns, until the car takes another route. Recently, some of my friends were followed home from a club, so this isn't something that's bad to be paranoid about! About a month ago, I arrived home late at night to find my cat acting strange, avoiding my bed, and I worried that some critter was in my room, under the bed. While 80% convinced that there were no strange animals in my room, I still slept on the living room couch that night. One of my roommates thought I was being ridiculous, but the other one told me that she sometimes thinks this house is haunted, and related some unusual experiences to me, that only increased my paranoia about what could be lurking in my room.

This afternoon, I found a strange package sitting on my kitchen counter. It was a bulging Hungry Jack pancake box wrapped in plastic packing tape, sent from a name I didn't recognize in North Carolina. If it had been sent in a normal parcel box, I probably would have just gone ahead and opened it, even though I didn't know what it was or who it was from. Somehow, the strange packaging just seemed shady to me. I squeezed it, and felt something hard and indistinguishable inside. I couldn't remember ordering anything recently, and it seemed logical that this was some online seller's address. Maybe someone I knew had sent me an early Christmas present. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was fishy about this package.

I looked up the name on the package online, but found nothing substantial. Nothing that said, "Oh, I sent a package to Texas" or "I'm an online salesperson." I thought about calling the post office, "I received a suspicious package," but decided that was likely too dramatic. I imagined the possibility of a bomb inside. Though I assured myself that no one hated me enough nor was I important enough to be the target of an assassination plot, I couldn't get rid of the feeling that this package could be dangerous.

So I did the most logical thing I could think of in handing a potentially dangerous, mysterious package. I donned my bike helmet, grabbed a sharp kitchen knife, cracked open the door to the back porch, and began opening the package, with the door in between my body and head and the package, my hands, and knife. If there was an explosion, I would only lose my hands. The imagined explosion could blow the door down, but I was wearing a helmet and hopefully would not sustain a fatal injury. (Somebody who knows more about bombs than I do please tell me that this is not a ridiculous notion). Probably the most dangerous think about this scenario was the fact that I was using a knife while not looking at what I was doing!

I successfully opened the outer package, revealing another smaller package, wrapped equally tight in clear packing tape. This too seemed suspicious, so I quickly removed it, and dropped it on the other side of the door. At this point, I began imagining that this package held illegal drugs instead of explosives. There was something written on the package, that at first glance I thought had my name on it. I turned the package around, reading the sharpied text, "Kitty Ring Holder." Then I remember two weeks ago buying an antique silver cat-shaped ring holder on a whim from an etsy shop. I don't even wear rings, but I thought the thing would make a fun decoration. I removed my bike helmet, brought the package back into the kitchen, and quickly opened it to enjoy my purchase.

This is probably the type of story that I should just keep to myself to save my reputation, but I like laughing at myself and I don't mind friends laughing with me. For my friends reading this who run etsy shops, please label your packages as an etsy purchase. You never know what dramatic, paranoid young woman with an over-active imagination is going to be ordering from you!

I think I'll name him Billie Joe.

jealousy

2009-12-07T22:51:00.004-06:00

How can something so ugly be so natural to us humans? It's as if him saying, "Thou shalt not covet . . . " he was saying, "Thou shalt not feel hunger." Is jealousy an action? A choice? Or is it a feeling? A state of being that overcomes me and entangles me in ways that are often difficult to shake loose? I don't feel like I choose to be jealous like I might choose to tell a lie, but I certainly entertain jealous thoughts, I feed them when they come, giving them enough light and water to stay alive until I distract myself with something else.

So how do I kill it? How do I be not jealous? Ideally, I should rejoice for my friends when I feel jealous of them, celebrate the things and opportunities that they have, even when I selfishly desire them for myself. But sadly, it's easier to focus on the good that I have or bad that they have to get rid of the thought that I want what they have. "Well, I may not have that, but I do have this, and this is really great," of, "Well, they have that which I want for myself, but they also have that which I don't want, so I should be glad that I'm me and not them." It's great to focus on what I'm thankful for, to rejoice in my blessings, but that kind of comparison, of measuring myself up against you seems just like the thing that is at the root of this jealousy in the first place.

Am I even capable of killing it? Maybe I just need to confess and repent and ask for forgiveness and healing, and remember that I'm not the One who killed it, I'm not the One who nailed it to some wood where it died. But the very word "repent" implies action, it implies a turn, a new direction. So where do I turn when I feel jealous? Towards gratitude, contentment, trust, love for others, towards things that often seem so much less natural to me. Again, I must turn to the One who not only killed it, but who opened the path for those things that I truly desire, the things so much more foreign to me than jealousy and pride and selfishness. He must have experienced it too. He must have been tempted by it also.

I hope that one day, I can really truly learn to rejoice with you and to want the best for you more than I want it for me. Until then, I'll keep fighting this thing I hate, and rejoice on the days when rejoicing for you feels easier than worrying about what I don't have. Even reading this feels dirty and ugly, and I'm tempted to delete it, and forget that I ever confessed these things. But I need to see the dirt before it can be washed, and I know that you experience it too. And again, it's not as if I'm confessing a secret felony I commit, it's more like I'm saying, "I breathe."

anticipation of weeks ahead

2009-12-01T22:22:00.006-06:00

As I discussed today with a friend, Thanksgiving just felt like an appetizer, a taste of a little bit of time with friends and family who don't live near me, but it left me wanting more, hungry for the main course that's just around the corner, almost three weeks of time with those loved ones. Time for more time with family, spending more time with those dear ones, not just a quick pop in and out weekend trip, and catching up with many of those I haven't seen but maybe once in the past year. Friends and family I haven't seen since that friend's wedding back in the spring, or that random weekend in the winter when we were both in town together.

I also look forward to the last few weeks here, this place that now often feels more like home to me than that other home that I moved away from almost two and a half years ago. It really feels like things are winding down, as I turned in that paper today, just a couple of simple presentations to give, a report or two to write, paperwork to finish up, and things will all be wrapped up. I'm excited, and part of me is looking forward to this festive time of year before all us students leave, attending Christmas parties, ring dunks, concerts, soaking up as much time with my family and friends here before I leave them for a few weeks.

But tonight I was reminded of some really peaceful weekends that I spent in this house when I first moved in, before my roommates moved in a month later. I'm such an extrovert, I used to never really enjoy time by myself as much as time spent with others, but that's starting to change. I found myself loving spending the days at my house, fixing breakfast, reading, journaling, cooking, cleaning, in my bright kitchen, nowhere to rush off to until I pleased, in a place that felt so alive and already so comfortable. I hope I have some more times like that in the coming weeks, some more beautiful times of peace and solitude. It's almost strange for me to write this, as I never guessed that I would enjoy that kind of solitude.

A big part of my comfort in this home comes from the fact that it's the first living arrangement since I moved down here that truly feels like it's my home just as much as my roommates. The first year, I lived with a girl who's family owned the home, so it really was her home, I was just renting the space. My second year, I rented a house with three delightful roommates, but they all knew each other much better than I knew them, and frequently had their mutual friends over, so once again, it felt like I was living in their house. But this feels like my house and it feels like our house.

Though I loved this house in the summer, the winter makes it feel so cozy and brings out a new facet of its personality. Our backyard is decorated with lights, we have a tree up in one of the living rooms, and as soon as we can get our landlady to clean our chimney, we'll start building fires! My cave of a room has no heating on its own, so I'm using two space heaters and multiple blankets to stay warm, as I listen to the rain rythmically pelt the tin roof above me and every now and then hear a critter scurry above my ceiling. This chilly room that I have to heat on my own reminds me of another place and time, like a room in a Northern European apartment, or a frontier farmhouse. Mmm, how I'd love to heat up some coals to place under my bed to keep me warm at night! For now, I'll just be thankful for my Home Depot space heater.

age, adulthood, and other funny things

2009-11-23T12:37:00.005-06:00

I'm 24, self-confident, and still experience those moments when I feel like a middle school girl getting shunned in the cafeteria. Today at my practicum, I watched as the post-docs gathered by the front door, waiting for two of our staff psychologists to join them to go out for lunch. I remembered last week them saying that since we weren't having our regular training meeting that they would go out for lunch this afternoon instead.

And no, I wasn't invited. There was no reason for them to invite me. I'm only here two days a week and even my supervisor didn't expect me to be here today since it was optional because of the holidays. But here I am, and I was disappointed to realize that instead of eating lunch with the post-docs, three youngish women who I have come to get to know these past few months over lunches, meetings, trainings, and supervision sessions, I would be eating in the break room without them while they went out to lunch.

It felt silly, but suddenly I felt the age difference. I felt like the little sister, watching her big sisters go off together, hoping that one of them would invite her. I walked in an out of the break room a couple of times, watching them gathered, saying something to one of them, then only making eye contact the second time. How I hoped that one of them would say, "Oh hey, we didn't know you were going to be here today, why don't you join us for lunch?"

Even though I'm only a third year doctoral student, completing a part time practicum here, in the past few months, I'd come to feel as an equal to the staff here. I'm always aware that the full time staff have more experience than me and I have a lot to learn from them, but recently interacting with the postdocs, I'd come to feel like one of them, eating lunch together, talking about our clients, our families, dates, etc, sharing our frustrations and excitements with one another. I'm going to be sad to leave these new friends. I hope that we'll keep in touch, but it's unlikely that I've established any deep, lasting connections with them. At best, they'll be good professional contacts to consult with when I'm applying for internship and post-doctoral positions - good contacts to have, for sure.

Now I understand why coworkers in full-time office jobs often become close friends. I've never worked a job when I took lunches with coworkers. Just two hours a week, plus meetings and trainings and consultations together, and that's sadly sometimes more time than I spend with many of my other friends during the week. And though we're of different backgrounds and life stages and personalities, there are some qualities that counseling psychologists share together that make it easy to connect.

And so, I'm sad that I'm not really their equal. That they go out to lunch together while I stay behind. That I'll be leaving this practicum in a few weeks, and will be saying goodbye to them, goodbye to lunches together, goodbye to laughing about weird diets and fashions, goodbye to informal consultations about client frustrations with them.

Maybe it makes today's experience all the more sad because I've been realizing more and more how little things like age and life stages can matter when it comes to adult friendships. I have friends 3-4 years younger than me still in college, friends several years older than working or in graduate school, single friends, married friends, friends who are mothers and fathers. One of my friends calls this an "urban tribe." Why do many churches divide people up into "homogeneous" groups of Young Singles, Young Marrieds etc.? I threw a well-attended party Friday night, a house show in which three of my musician friends played, and it was wonderful to look around see the diverse friends around me. Friends, strangers, college students, grad students, single, married, fathers, pregnant women, two of my pastors, coworkers, neighbors, friends of friends little sisters, mostly White, but also black, Indian, Turkish, people who see me as an authority figure, people who see me as a mentee to shepherd, people who see me as their friend, sister, equal, all eating queso, drinking beer cider, listening to music, having conversation, telling stories, imitating Obama, singing songs. All seemed more equal that night, any normal power differentials (for lack of a better term) seemed to blur as we all enjoyed the music and company.

Our church elders last night spoke about maturity, recognizing that we're a young church, and we need older adults with more life experience and maturity, but also recognizing that age and experience doesn't always equal wisdom and maturity. I'm thankful to be growing into maturity, I'm thankful to have people in my life who are more mature than me in different areas. I have no idea how to wrap up this blog post, it's taken a turn that I didn't expect. This often happens when I'm writing. I have in mind to write one thing, and then discover that it's related to something else, something more important to me than the thing I first set out to write about. Usually I like to connect this back to the beginning, but maybe there's not a need for that.

I'm 24, self-confident, and still experience those moments when I feel like an adult.

ooh, it, feels good to be free

2009-11-09T23:00:00.009-06:00

I should have known today was going to be an eventful day as I drove into Huntsville, listening to the BBC radio coverage of the 20th anniversary celebrations of the fall of the Berlin wall, my eyes filled with tears. This is the second time I've cried this past month while listening to public radio news, the first being while listening to the speech of a female member of the Afghan's parliament's speech criticizing the parliament's relationship with warlords, that resulted in her removal from parliament and threats against her life and safety. I knew today was a special day being celebrated in a city that I recently visited, but I had no idea what a personal impact this Monday was going to much hold for me.

For starters, the most difficult client I've had thus far in my training abruptly terminated therapy with me in an entirely frustrating manner, but what else would I expect from someone whom myself and the staff suspect suffers from a personality disorder, who has caused us numerous frustrations over the past two months? I was downright pissed off this afternoon, but thankfully I have a wonderful staff to process it with and I'm thankful for the training opportunity that has challenged me and will provide fascinating answers to the internship interview question, "What has been your most challenging experience with a client and how did you handle it?" Though at this site we sarcastically use the term "training opportunity" for anything difficult that we don't want to do, I genuinely am thankful for this experience.

Then, I received freedom from all romantic involvements for the first time in over a year, and incredibly, by God's grace, it happened in the most positive way one could hope for - with clarity, kindness, understanding, gratitude, and forgiveness, without hurt, shame, anger, or regret. I'm so thankful for this. It feels good to be free, to be grateful for my current state, to be open to whatever or whomever will come into my life next. I know a time is likely to come soon when I will experience loneliness or long for a man's attention, but for now, I'm surprisingly downright euphoric about this new found freedom.

Finally, this evening I booked a 13 day tour over spring break in this country:

Home of the city no longer called Constantinople, the 7 churches of Revelation, the Byzantine Empire, the Ottoman Empire, Troy, Pergamum, seascapes that rival Greece's in beauty, incredibly hospitable people, and the furthest East I will have ever traveled. As you can imagine, I'm pretty incredibly stoked. Somehow, four months away, this trip doesn't even seem real to me yet, but I'm excited, and I'm sure it will sink in soon. Just last week, I also booked a trip to New Orleans with a good friend and then on to Oklahoma to visit other friends in January.

There's just something incredible about freedom, that people around the world will risk their lives and safety for it, that young women in Texas will dance joyfully and shamelessly to a favorite song when they receive it, that a god would send his son to death to secure it for his people.

movement

2009-10-30T23:59:00.007-05:00

Last night, we did a neat activity in my church small group. When we arrived, two tables were covered in about 50 different photographs, all evocative images depicting various people, settings, and objects. Our small group leader asked us to select one picture that described where we are now in this season of them, then later asked us to pick a picture, in light of the knowledge that God loves us, where we believe that God would want us to be right now. I wish I could find these photographs to share, but they came materials that a Christian organization uses for evangelism, so they are likely copyrighted.

True to my indecisive nature, I looked at every single picture before I chose one. I then asked myself, "Where am I in life right now?" The answer immediately popped into my head with one word, "Moving." I picked the photograph that conveyed the most movement to me: a young woman and a young man running through a train station, limbs and torsos blurred, arms extended towards one another, as if they were running to catch a train and the young man was reaching out his hand to pull the young woman along.

My life is moving forward right now, I know where I'm going in the immediate future, and I know the steps to take along the way. I know where I will be completing my practicum for the next two semesters, I likely know what new job I will take next fall, I know when I will be proposing my dissertation, I know (probably) when I will be applying for internships, and I know what sorts of internships sight I will apply to and have some ideas of where I plan to apply. There's a lot that I don't know, a lot of very important details yet to be decided, and still much flexibility in all these plans, but I know enough to feel sure of where I'm going and to feel confident to run towards these goals. I'm no longer the insecure, clueless first or second year graduate student, feeling like I'm swimming aimlessly and trusting that in some unknown way my classes and experiences will lead to a doctorate degree and a professional license. I recently told one of my classmates that I feel like we're at the last lap (which we're not), and that I feel like we're rushing towards the finish line now. There's still a LOT left to do, but how to get to that once elusive finish line is now much more clear to me. And I'm busy pursuing all those things this semester, much busier than previous semesters. I've had weeks when I've been stressed and exhausted, but God has answered my prayers and the prayers of others to give me energy to mostly thrive in this schedule. It probably helps that I now have a better idea of what the coming semesters and years hold for me and how the things I'm doing now directly relate as steps toward a goal that is being achieved.

I feel good about all these things. But when I looked at the picture of the two in the station, it felt frantic and stressful to me. The two were not sure if they would reach their destination, but they were running like hell to try to make it there anyway. They were reaching out to one another, but their hands weren't quite touching. In the same way, I feel like some things in my life just aren't connecting as they should be. I feel like my busyness is causing me to sacrifice some things for now, and honestly, I sometimes feel like I'm flat out dropping the ball on things I should be doing, but just don't have the time to complete or the mental energy to even remember to do because I am so focused on more demanding things. I don't feel as frantic as the photographed two, which I'm grateful for. In the midst of this busyness, I don't feel nearly as stressed as I could be, and there's been a lot of peace throughout this semester.

For my second photograph, I chose a picture of a young man, a college student I assume, walking away from the camera, toward a beautiful collegiate looking brick building, red backpack strapped to his back, surrounded by old trees who are just beginning to turn into fall colors. As his left foot is turned sole towards the camera, there is obvious movement in this photograph, but the entire scene is crisp and clear, no aspect is blurred in motion. I imagine this young man walking at a steady pace, towards his destination. He's not wearing himself out, he's not tired, he could stop if he wanted to, he's walking slowly enough to notice his surroundings. I believe this captures what God wants for me because I believe that he wants me to keep moving, that he wants me to pursue these goals I'm currently pursuing. I don't think he wants me to change directions or stop, but I think he wants me to continue moving forward at a more steady pace, less frantic, and I believe that he wants me to experience more peace while I move. To feel confident, to trust that my steps are sure. I don't think he wants me to rush nor miss out on what is present all around me.

Afterwards, my small group leader told me how he experienced sadness when I said that I'd be finishing up in a couple of years, "I'm sad for selfish reasons." I almost cried when he told me that. I know it's almost two years away, but for all the excitement I experience about moving forward and reaching my educational and career goals, I will be very sad to leave the people and this place that I have come to love. I shared with him my recent realization that if I decide to stay an extra year, to finish my dissertation and/or become a more competive internship applicant, and if I spend that extra year here, I'll be very happy with that. I thought I'd be eager to leave this place, but it truly has become home to me, a delightful, satisfying surprise. If I am led to stay or return, then that would be amazing. As fast as I seem to be moving, I'd love to slow things down and savor all of this.

Wow, I really am in such a different place than I was just over a year ago. As busy as it may be, I absolutely love this season.

PS - I updated my blog roll. It makes me happy :)

nuevo

2009-10-30T23:34:00.003-05:00

I dislike the question, "What's new?" I prefer the more open-ended, "How are things?" or "What have you been up to?" Those questions anyone can answer, because there are always "things" going on in life and anybody is always up to something or another. But "What's new?" makes me feel some pressure to think, "What is new in my life? What is new to this person? Or what's new this week? Or what big, monumental, NEW thing has occurred in my life recently?" This past summer, I would answer that question eagerly, "Everything's new! My house, my roommates, my job, my practicum, my classes!" But a few months later, the newness of such things has worn off. Nothing right now feels as new as all those things did a few months ago. Completing a learning disability assessment, co-facilitating my fourth group of college students with depression, buying plane tickets to New Orleans, going to a Regina Spektor concert, none of those things seem as monumentally NEW as all the changes that have occurred for me in the past five months.

I also feel like the questioner is fishing for something, like they expect me to share something NEW that will satisfy their curiosity. It's almost as if they're thinking, "Something is new about her, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is . . . " I know it's just a socially acceptable question that us white americans have been conditioned to ask one another when we're curious about another person's life or feigning said curiosity, but I feel like it implies a need for the other person to have NEW, exciting, life-changing events and experiences. Maybe my life is average right now. Maybe the only thing that's new are the clothes I'm wearing. But is that good enough for you? Am I not fulfilling your expectations for my life to be continuously NEW and fascinating?

Even more irritating to me is when I've already been talking to a friend for 10, 15, 20, 30 minutes, sharing about different things in each other's lives, and then the friend asks, "So, what else is new with you?" I want to respond, "I've spent the past 20 minutes telling you about NEW things in my life!" Do they think I'm hiding something from them? That I'm beating around the bush? Or was what I just shared not interesting enough for them? Are they waiting for me to reveal some big NEW event, that all the other things I shared were just leading up to?

I'll have to be honest, as an unmarried person, I sometimes feel like when people ask, "What's new?" that they want to hear about some new relationship development. A new crush, a new boyfriend, a new serious development with current boyfriend etc. Maybe they don't. I don't beat around the bush with those kinds of questions, I straight up ask, "Are you seeing anyone?" "How are you and so-and-so doing?" "Do you see a future with him?" But I feel like many people don't have the guts to ask such straightforward questions about what could be a sensitive topic to someone other than the closest of friends.

Maybe people are just curious about each other, and ask questions that sound ok to ask. Maybe I'm just projecting my own insecurities about the newness of my life onto others. Maybe no one else but me cares how new or old the things in my life are.

Whatever it is, the question still annoys me. Just ask me how I am, pretend to be interested in what I share, and trust that I will share what seems important for you to know.

At least it's a relatively open-ended question, even if the questioner is leading towards something. Last night, my friend told me how her friend kept asking her, "Aren't you sooooo good?" How does one respond to that? "Yes, in fact, I am soooooo good," or, "Actually, no, I'm not soooooo good," or, "Wow, you're right, my life is good, thanks for convincing me of that!"

the difference between a graduate student and an undergraduate

2009-10-10T13:46:00.003-05:00

A graduate student will bike through a sea of maroon-clad fans, past the stadium on her way to the library, toting her laptop, wearing her TCU sweatshirt, looking oblivious to the fact that a football game is to commence in 45 minutes.

Few undergraduate students will ever know the joys of flaunting their complete disregard for decades-held traditions in the pursuit of academic success.

Today, I'm not even a "two-percenter," I'm a negative two-percenter, if that even makes sense in whatever the definition of a "two-percenter" is.

If I were a British school girl living in a cartoon universe . . .

2009-09-22T20:19:00.005-05:00

. . . I might look like this -
Courtesy of Tom Siddell, writer and artist of Gunnerkrigg Court, a webcomic that I enjoy. He offered to create personal drawings for a small fee to make some money off of the comic. I'm happy to support his work, and am delighted with his rendition of me as a Gunnerkrigg Court student! The comic itself is a beautifully drawn and intriguing tale that still manages to bring laughs and delights despite its often dark mood. Its basic premise reminds me somewhat of Harry Potter, with a young girl who joins a mysterious boarding school after her mother dies, except that there's no Voldemort and no Dumbledore, which is key. Gunnerkrigg Court offers no simplistic distinction between good and evil, and it's often unclear who of the characters to trust. The plot centers around stoic Annie's (short for Antimony) adventures in the school itself and the equally mysterious forest outside, uncovering clues about the school, the forest, the inhabitants of both, and her family. Elements of mythology and alchemy symbols are woven throughout the chapters, and themes of manmade science vs. natural magic are emphasized. If you're going to read it, I recommend starting from the beginning. When I was first introduced to this comic a year ago, I tried to read the most recent ones, and was pretty lost until I read all the way through.

I'm such a fangirl, and I've just outted myself if you didn't already know that about me.

this has never happened to me before

2009-08-24T15:23:00.006-05:00

The amount I had remaining on my Starbucks giftcard was exactly the amount that my drink cost today.

Seriously, when does that happen, when you have a giftcard and don't owe money and don't have money remaining?

This reminds me of how my grandmother would give me giftcards that included the tax in them. Which is genius, because inevitably one has to spend some kind of money on tax when using a $5, $10, $25 etc giftcard. My grandmother was one of the most thoughtful people I've ever known when it came to things like that. She knew that I didn't like nuts, and whenever she made a recipe with nuts (brownies, elk salad, etc), she would save a special portion without nuts for me to enjoy, and chide others who tried to eat the non-nut section that was saved specially for me. Most of the time this was great, but sometimes it obligated me to eat foods that I don't like. How can I tell my grandmother that I don't like jello salad when there's a special small container of jello salad without nuts made just for me? At least I can tolerate bad food without nuts making them completely unbearable.

It's hard to believe that it's been three years now since she died. Since that time, I've come to tolerate and even sometimes enjoy more nuts in more recipes, without the woman who remembers my preferences. Three years sounds like such a long time, but it doesn't feel like she's been gone three years. Not that the pain of losing her feels fresh at all, but it doesn't feel like she's been out of my life that long, and I think this is a good thing. The woman who kept nuts away from me feels like a recent presence in my life, not someone who is far away in my past. I want to model her thoughtfulness in my life, in my relationships with others. In the gifts I give, in the words I say, in the questions I ask, in the concern I display. In the ways I use my time, money, possessions, words, and gifts. I want to give to others in a variety of ways, and I want to do it thoughtfully, not scattering out kindness haphazardly, assuming that all kindnesses are the same or that the things that mean the most to mean will also be meaningful to others, but really seeking to know those that I am called to love and giving to them thoughtfully.

And for those of you who know me as friends and family, as brothers and sisters, I'd appreciate help in this endeavor. If I do or say something toward you or another that isn't kind, or that just isn't as thoughtful as it could be, I'd appreciate the feedback. If you ever feel hurt or dismissed or underappreciated by me, then maybe you're right to assume that I didn't mean it that way, but it doesn't mean that you have to ignore it. I tend to have a rather kind nature, which is great, but it also could make it easy for me to become complacent and to not think about my need to strive to be more giving, more loving, more sacrificial, in the ways that Christ has modeled for me, in the ways that the Spirit enables me to be.

Wow, all that from a Starbucks receipt? She does move in mysterious ways.

earning some initials

2009-08-13T12:58:00.007-05:00

Tomorrow, I become Ms. cracker and cheese, M.S.!* Earning a Masters' on the way to a doctorate degree is something that most people in our program achieve, and tomorrow I will receive that degree. To be honest, it's felt a little anticlimactic, and something that I've underplayed. Any other time I've graduated, I've ended one chapter of my life to begin another. This time when I graduate, things stay the same. I've been a doctoral student for the past two years, and after tomorrow, I will continue to be a doctoral student. Many of my classmates received their masters' and never attended the graduation ceremony. I decided to attend the ceremony and walk the stage tomorrow, mainly so my parents could come down and celebrate with me. A few weeks ago, when I shelled over some money to purchase the cap and gown and rent my masters' hood, I almost regretted that decision.

Fortunately, my apathy toward graduation has subsided and my excitement has grown as graduation grows closer. I've started to share about it with others, and it's been easy to feed off of their excitement and pride for me. This is a big deal! Maybe this won't be a life-changing event, but it's a significant accomplishment. I've worked hard in this program for the past two years, and it's great to have an achievement like this to celebrate.

So tomorrow I'll fix my hair and make-up, put on a pretty dress, don my cap, gown, and hood, walk across that stage, text message friends during the 2 hour ceremony, and greet my family, taking pictures, and celebrating this step!

*Most of you know who I am, so just insert my full name in there!

a suburb is a suburb

2009-08-09T13:01:00.011-05:00

Overall, the trip to California was all that I'd hoped it would be - a fun time to celebrate the marriage of my friends and spend time with family in a beautiful area that is a welcome escape from Texas. The three days of wedding activities were better than I expected. One of the other bridesmaids is one of my best friends, and we all hit it off with the others, who I'd never met before. The brides' family completely pampered us. I ate some of the best food of my life that weekend. And I slept. On. A. Boat. I've been in many weddings, and this was one of the most fun, probably because by the time the wedding rolled around, we'd spent three days together and so the wedding itself was the culmination of a days of celebration and preparation with old and new friends. I know I've been in the weddings of some of you reading this post, and believe me, every wedding I've been in has been fun, exciting, memorable, and special, but there's just something a little different about having a "destination" wedding of sorts that allows everyone involved to just escape into wedding land for a few days.

Unfortunately, I woke up the day after the wedding sick with a bad cold, caught from one of the other bridesmaids who had been sick prior to the wedding. Fortunately, my cousins took good care of me, and I took it easier my second half of my time in California but still managed to have fun. Monday, I drove my cousin's minivan (a frightening experience on LA freeways) and battled parking meters in Pasadena to spend a few hours shopping and enjoying art collection of the Norton Simon Museum. Tuesday my cousin, her kids, and her brother and I spent a few hours at Knotts Berry Farm, which I still managed to enjoy in spite of fatiguing more easily and experiencing more nausea on the roller coasters than I would have had I not been sick. In between, we enjoyed good meals, Animaniacs, frozen yogurt, Theraflu, playing farkle, and antics with my cousins' 5 month old daughter and almost 3 year old son. We tried to teach him how to say, "Hellooooooo Nurse" when he see "a pretty lady who looks like Mommy," as some of the Animaniacs characters do. He managed the phrase sometimes, but sometimes it turned into, "Hello Nana."

It was somewhat prophetic that I titled my previous post "California Reality." At the time, I intended it to be a play off of "California Dreamin'" because I wasn't just dreaming about going to California, I would actually be there in my reality. The title has taken on more additional meanings as I realized that prior to this trip, I had idealized California. A beautiful state of almost perfect weather in the southern coast, and a variety of natural beauties (beaches, mountains, forests) within driving distance of anywhere in the state had made it seem like a paradise compared to Texas. Fortunately, ever since my first visit, I had been aware of the high cost of living in this state, but I would still find myself telling people, "I would love to live in California if it weren't so expensive." After this visit to Southern California, I'm seeing now that even if you have a lot of money in this state, the suburbs of LA may not be the ideal paradise that I imagined, mainly because the region is so darn crowded. Houses are small, and yards are smaller. Traffic is horrible, with my cousins urging me to leave Pasadena before 3:30 if I wanted to make it back in less than an hour. Honestly, even with the great weather, the suburbs of LA seem just like the suburbs of DFW, but with a higher population density and greater urban sprawl.

Living in a smaller town these past two years, I've come to enjoy the conveniences of being able to drive wherever I need to go in 10-15 minutes. When I visit my home in the DFW suburbs, I get annoyed with the traffic and just how spread out everyone and everything is. I spend 20 minutes to an hour driving each way to go see another family member or friend. I'm annoyed to see the suburban sprawl, miles of houses as far as the eye can see. I've come to appreciate living in a smaller town without such sprawl and traffic. I don't know where I'll live in the future, but I'd prefer to live in a small to medium-sized city or the downtown of a large city with decent public transportation than a suburb. Wherever I may make my home, I'd ideally like to live close to wherever I work to minimize commuting time, and hopefully that will also be close to necessary amenities and a community of people that I love and care about.

Just as my Southern California fantasy bubble was bursting, I saw the amazing film 500 Days of Summer, set in LA. Seriously, go see it as soon as possible if you haven't already. One of the many great aspects of this film is that it manages to make downtown LA beautiful in a way that I've never seen in film or in person. Somehow, in this film, LA looks like an East Coast city, plus some palm trees. The protagonist, who studied architecture, appreciates the beauty of old buildings amidst modern parking garages. I've never seen this side of LA before. Maybe I haven't been to the right place, or maybe it takes just the right eye.

california reality

2009-07-29T09:36:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow, I fly out to LAX at 7:40 in the morning, bright and early! I will be in the LA area for 6 days to maid-of-honor in my friend's wedding and then to stay a little longer to sightsee and hang with my cousins. This will be my 7th time as a bridesmaid, my 6th time flying solo, 4th trip to California, 3rd trip to the LA area, 2nd wedding to attend in the LA area, and 1st time to meet my cousins' baby Violet! (Sorry, if I think of what this is the 5th of, I'll add it later)

Sadly, I've been so busy lately, that I haven't had a chance to let the excitement of this trip build. But now that I leave in less than 24 hours, am packed, have my boarding pass printed, my dress altered, my gifts bought, the bachelorette dinner planned, and plans with my cousins are shaping out, I'm definitely getting excited! There will be love and commitment to celebrate, great friends and family to catch up with, new friends to meet, good food, drink, dancing, lingerie, getting nails and hairdid, beaches, yachts, minivans, babies, Knottsberry Farm, highs of 73 degrees, and whatever else comes along!

I'm trying to figure out what to do solo on Monday when my cousins are at work and allow me to drive their awesome minivan. Since this is my 3rd trip to LA, I've already seen a lot of the typically touristy places, Hollywood stuff, Venice Beach, Rodeo Drive, driven around Bel Air, UCLA, etc. So, I'm definitely open to any suggestions!

Did I mention that it's almost 30 degrees cooler in Huntington Beach than in College Station right now?

tucking in my cloak

2009-07-20T16:26:00.003-05:00

This morning, I read in 1 Kings 18 when God answers Elijah's prayers and ends the 3 1/2 year long drought. It's just after God has answered Elijah's prayers and sent down fire to consume the altar on Mount Carmel, demonstrating that the God is Israel is the true living God and Baal is no god at all. After this great display of power, after Elijah prays with his head and his knees to the ground, after Elijah's servant had looked toward the sea six times, on the seventh viewing, he reports a small cloud rising from the sea, Elijah urges the king to ride his chariot down off the mountain before the rain prevents him from leaving. The sky grows dark, the winds howl, and the heavy rain comes down. Elijah is seized by the power of God, he tucks his cloak into his belt, and he runs ahead of the king's chariot 16 miles back to the city! Maybe horses pulling chariots run slower than a man, maybe the terrain was rocky and easier for a man on foot to navigate than horses and chariots, but I believe that this "power of the Lord" was supernatural energy and strength and speed that allowed Elijah to run over a half marathon ahead of the king's chariot, with the heavy rain and storm chasing them from behind.

Leaving campus this afternoon, we saw dark clouds and heard distant rumblings of thunder. I quickly bid my companions goodbye and scurried to unlock my bike. I began pedaling quickly, anxious to make it home before the rain started. I heard a louder clap of thunder behind me, and started pedaling faster. As I found myself furiously biking through campus, I felt a little like Elijah, cloak tucked in, running ahead of the chariot, with the storm coming behind him. Most of me desperately wanted to make it home dry, but a small part of me hoped that the rain would beat me, and that I would be caught in the storm. As I began to imagine this, that desire in me grew. What could be more invigorating right now than this exhilarating ride to escape the rain than to actually be caught in the rain? To be pelted with water, powerless to stop it, unable to be dry until I reached the safety of my home, completely drenched? I did not lower my speed, but as I pressed on, I began to hope that the rain would win this race.

I was victorious. As I sit half an hour later at my dining room table writing this, the rain still has not come. I could feel silly, that I got so worked up about beating the rain that still hasn't arrived, but instead I feel grateful for a few minutes of excitement, for the reminder of God's power through nature's unpredictability, and the ability to feel alive and present.

mysteries of children

2009-06-29T19:18:00.000-05:00

I claim that I'm not good with kids, but some children seem determined to prove me a liar. And when they do, I'm grateful because there's nothing quite like having a 4 month old baby fall asleep in my arms while I'm holding him or snuggling up with a toddler in my lap. I suppose I treat little children like cats in that I don't rush over to pick them up or play with them, but when they approach me and want my affection, I feel honored and blessed and happy to oblige them.

Today, not quite two-year-old little Zoe climbed up onto my lap while I sat at Ari's kitchen table. Uninvited but welcome, she took one bite of her apple slice while I munched on mine.

"Do you think she remembers me?" I asked, referring back to a year ago when I was more of a presence in Zoe's life, "Or is she just friendly with everyone?"

"She's definitely doesn't approach everyone like that," Ari replied, "But sometimes it almost seems like she seeks out people that need love from her right now."

And love from a precious blonde-haired, blue-eyed, smiling, babbling child I was happy to receive and to give back to her.

Maybe I am ok with kids. Or maybe there are certain children and certain times when we are both just perfect for each other.

summer evenings

2009-06-16T22:14:00.004-05:00

"When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore, a man cannot discover anything about his future."
Ecclesiastes 7:14

Back porch + book + baked custard – bugs = bliss

Though my baked custard didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped, though a mosquito still bit my knuckle (having only sprayed my feet and ankles with OFF!), and even though barely a paragraph into my latest chapter, I received a phone call that whisked me away from my lovely back porch back to the clinic where I work to attend to a minor crisis, when I returned from work for the second time, I was finally able to settle into my book and enjoy the last remaining minutes of daylight and enjoy relaxing yet stimulating bliss.

We’re nearing the summer solstice, and I’m loving the long summer days of sunshine that lasts nearly to 9pm, but I’m also saddened that once summer solstice occurs, the days will slowly grow shorter, and there will be less sunshine for me to enjoy. Nevermind that this cycle repeats itself, nevermind that I actually love fall weather, and come mid-July will be yearning for cooler temperatures, right now, I want the days to just keep getting longer and longer, and the thought of losing even just a minute of daylight dampens my spirit. And I hate that I’m thinking this way, and I hate that I’m thinking this way about a lot of things. Why can’t I just be, and enjoy the blessing of the moment, the present, all that I really truly ever have which is that in front of me, around me, within me?

I’m thankful that this past month or so that the few of us still here for the summer from our comgroup have been rapidly growing closer. This is such a special time for us to bond, as we’re all here in town, and many of our usual friends are gone for the season, and even though we’re working, in school, or looking for jobs, the demands and stress of life inevitably slow in the summer. The conditions have all been right facilitate more quality time together in ways that I just don’t think could have happened during the usual school year. I continue to enjoy such rich times with these friends, laughing, rambling, ranting, bantering, confiding, listening, encouraging, advising. As much as I’m enjoying these special times together, the nagging feeling that this season will end at the end of this summer is present with me. It seems inevitable that these times together will change, as people move, as fall schedules start, as other friends return. I don’t anticipate that we will grow tired of one another or that our times together will feel old, but it seems that the conditions around us will change, and our friendships will change as a result. But why I am even thinking this way, when we’re right in the middle of a wonderful, fun, precious season with each other, when we’re still sneaking candy into Pixar movies together, when we’re still staying up late on rooftop bars, discussing God and how we relate to him? Why am I anticipating an end when in many ways, this just seems to be the beginning? I know that I won’t stay close forever to everyone that I grow close to for a season, but it is possible that though things will change, close bonds will remain, friendships will continue, even if there is a physical distance between friends. Most of these friends will be living here for another year or two at least, and we will continue to go to church together, and we will continue to have opportunities to spend with one another. So even looking forward, I see continued friendships, I see growth, I see hope for us.

I guess I should blame my white American culture, but why am I so future oriented and so obsessed with marking time? So many of my thoughts seem to be looking toward the future, planning something, eagerly anticipating something, dreading something. So many thoughts given to things that have yet to occur. Things that could never occur, or that could occur very differently that I ever could imagine. And I’m always marking time forward or backwards. It’s so many days/weeks/months until x occurs. It’s been so many days/weeks/months since y happened. And usually there’s a judgment. Since it’s been x amount of time since I experienced y, I should be feeling z. Since it’s j amount of time until k, I should be doing l in preparation. I think it’s good and healthy to look back and categorize seasons and learn from them, and of course I need to look ahead and plan, but I don’t want my plans or my judgments about time to master me. I want to be more engaged in the present. I said that for the first time over a year ago, and I’m still learning what that means and how to do it. And there I go, making another time-related judgment of myself :P And now I’m judging myself for judging myself, which is even more absurd! But I’m not too frustrated at myself at the moment, more bemused that it seems inevitable that I will continue to think they way I don’t want to think, and to do the things that I don’t want to continue doing. That sounds pessimistic, but I’m trying to learn to have more grace with myself, the same grace and understanding and forgiveness that God offers to me, and that I’m trying to learn to offer more to others, I’m also trying to receive and offer to myself.

These past few weeks, I’ve also become aware that I’m approaching or perhaps have already reached what is likely the halfway point of the portion of my life that I live in Bryan/College Station, TX. There’s a feeling of accomplishment in having come this far, but it also is a tad daunting that the time I have remaining about equals the time that I’ve already spent. And with this remaining time, I’m expected to propose and collect and analyze data for a dissertation and to apply and interview for internships? I feel that I’m losing my academic excuses of, “Oh, I’m only a first year, a second year.” But I also fear that I’m losing my excuses to myself, “Oh, I’ve only lived here a year, year and a half, of course I don’t have the friends I like, of course I don’t feel more at home here than I do yet, give it more time, dear one.” But I have accomplished a lot in my short time here, experienced many new things, grown and developed in a myriad of ways, and am becoming more mature in some ways, and feel much more at home, certainly than I did last summer. Again, I’m tempted to judge myself, to judge my life, and where I should be, what I should have learned, what I should have accomplished. But I am where I am, and I’m meant to be here, and I will be further along in this journey when it’s time for me to be there. I like the me that’s 24 and one month. I like the me that has lived in BCS for not quiet two years. In some ways, it’s not the life that I hoped for at this stage, but in some ways, it’s better than I imagined. And it’s just as it should be.

action vs reaction

2009-05-25T23:53:00.000-05:00

Looking back an unposted blog entries, I found this from September 24th, 2008 -

"I want to stop just reacting. Something happens, and I react and respond. Someone says something, and my mind goes off in an unhealthy tangent and starts making meaning out of what that person said, and then I react to that meaning that I create.

I want to be more than just a set of stimulus and responses. I want to choose, I want to act deliberately. I want to have a plan and a course."

this is not a confession

2009-05-14T11:54:00.002-05:00

I may or may not have started a fire in the break room today. I may or may not have been trying to remove my hypothetical bagel from the toaster oven, may or may not have been using a napkin as an oven mitt, and that possibly existing napkin may or may not have caught on fire. Rest assured that if I did start a fire this morning, that I would have resisted the urge to throw the fiery napkin into the trashcan and instead would have thrown the flaming paper to the floor, and stamped it out with my flip flops. If I had been wearing flip flops today, of course. Also note that if I ever were to start a fire in the break room, it would have been entirely by accident.

birthday eve

2009-05-10T21:46:00.008-05:00

It's the night before my birthday and I just feel like crying.

I feel sadness. I feel longing. And I feel frustration with myself that I'm feeling this way even though tomorrow is my birthday, tomorrow is my day of celebration, of turning 24, and I will spend more time with friends and family, as I already have this weekend, and I will receive good wishes and kind words and love and appreciation. And I'm afraid that I'll be ungrateful, that I'll just feel mildly appreciated, and not deeply loved, and not truly enjoy myself like I'd like to on my birthday. But maybe feelings aren't everything. Maybe I can still receive these things from others, and still treasure and ponder them in the days and months to come, and maybe even if I don't experience immediately the joy and encouragement of such things, maybe they will still take root in my heart and blossom into further blessings that I can continue to experience in times ahead.

2009 has been such a year so far, and though I wouldn't change anything, I'm ready to hit the reset button. It's no longer heaven and hell side by side, but rather a bait and switch has occurred. The amazingly good things went down the tubes and the shitty things have improved and continue to improve (and I rejoice in that). Some things that were good two months ago continue to be good, and continue to get better. None of the goods or bads are as extreme as they were two months ago, which almost seems just how they should be. I suppose that I do believe that everything is just how it should be, though often things feel horribly off. I wish I could change some of this, but I do believe that I'm receiving what I need to receive and growing and becoming more the person that God has created me to be, a new creation, being transformed and renewed. I see evidence of this growth, and know that it's not just some nice cliche that I tell myself and others to feel better. No, this growth is real, I know without a doubt that I am more mature that I was a year ago, two years ago, four years ago. Sucks that it takes experiencing pain to realize this growth, but I'm grateful for the truth and reminder, whatever package it comes in.

All the same, I'm ready to hit the reset button on my life, to start fresh in several things, to not be around reminders of this past year anymore, though it's been a good, wonderful, fun, exciting, growthful year in many, many ways. I am just ready to step into the new. Thankfully, still living as a student, these resets occur every few months, and in the upcoming months, the reset button will be hit multiple times, starting tomorrow. Beep. Now I'm 24. Then next week, beep, new job. Two weeks later, beep. New class. Beep. New practicum setting. Beep. New place to live, new roommates. I don't see these changes as erasing the past or trying to forget anything, but I do feel excited about them as I see them as new opportunities, fresh starts, improvements, blessings, gifts. Reminders that nothing is permanent, that as the wind whips the clouds across the full moon, so too will God move me away from the tears and pain, and move me toward his goodness, his love, his mercies, his tenderness, into the beautiful newness.

Why do I post something sharing sadness when I should be celebrating and joyful? Maybe because it just feels so wrong, that I should be happy right now, damnit. Happiness will probably come tomorrow, maybe not all day long, but maybe some of the day, maybe even most of the day. Why do I write this now? Do I want sympathy? Probably. Let's be honest, I appreciate the sympathy and the concern, even though sometimes it embarasses me when people respond overly concerned. Why do I write this now? Why do I want to remember the last day of being 23rd as a sad one? I write this in the confident hope that I will soon look back on this post, and realize that I don't feel this way. I write this is the hope that being 24 will be better than being 23, that being 24 will mean less tears and more smiles and laughter and hope, and even if I experience more tears this upcoming year, that 24 will mean being more mature, experiencing more love, and feeling more confident.

It's the night before my birthday and I cried. It's the night before my birthday and I stood outside, alone atop the highest hill in this town, listening to nothing but crickets chirping and distant dogs barking, and feeling the cool, gentle, life-giving breeze. It's the night before my birthday and I'm kinda smiling.

remembering what I do

2009-04-29T16:23:00.005-05:00

I wish I could fully describe for you what a priviledge it is to walk through someone's valley with them, caring for them, challenging them, experiencing their lows, opening up their emotions that frighten them, exploring and understanding themselves more and more, and then, seeing them walk out of that valley, into the hills and green plains, having learned from their pain, having recognized strengths within and around them, finding more hope and more truth, and having grown and changed for the better.

Right now, in this moment, this afternoon, I love what I do. For all of the challenges and frustrations that my education and chosen profession bring me, I love and cherish being on this journey with others. I am priviledged. I am blessed.

my blog is not dead

2009-04-16T09:56:00.004-05:00

Nor have I forgotten about it. To be honest, these past couple of months, I haven't had a lot of motivation to blog. When I have thought of something that I wanted to write about, I'd usually be busy and have something else that needed my attention, and never got around to writing in here. I have things I'd like to write now, but don't always have the time to write when I want to, and also feel like some of the things on my mind right now are probably just best thought and prayed about privately or shared individually with those close to me.

But in the past two and a half years since I started this blog, I've seen my writing wax and wane with certain seasons. If the past is any indication, my writing certainly slowed down last spring, and then the posts picked back up again during the summer. I'm hopeful that within a couple of months, or maybe even next week, who knows, I will start feeling more motivation to write things, and will probably have more time and less school demands that should allow me to do so.

So, this blog is still alive. Keep me on your google reader or your bookmarks or links or whatev and hopefully they'll be some actual posts again soon. Thanks :)

heaven and hell on earth

2009-03-09T15:54:00.006-05:00

"I have this theory of convergence, that good things always happen with bad things. I know you have to deal with them at the same time, but I just don't know why they have to happen at the same time." - Diane Court, Say Anything

There's a lot that I relate to Diane Court about - feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable when praise is heaped upon me, feeling insecure and fragile despite my successes. She's the girl that has so much going for her, so much success, seemingly has it all together, but is human, and frail, and weak, and scared, and needy sometimes.

And these past couple of months, I've related a lot to this quote of hers, to the feeling that good things and bad things must happen together. I don't know if I fully believe in her convergence theory as the way that life is, but lately, it seems rather accurate. Some things in my life are really shitty, and some things are amazingly good. Things are either growing and blossoming in exciting directions or falling deeper into a dark pit, and even the stagnant things are pulsating and aching to go in one direction or another. There has always been good and bad things coexisting in my life, but never can I remember them being so extreme. The good is heavenly, and the bad feels like hell. Maybe that's a little dramatic, but sometimes it feels that way.

Still, I'm surviving every day, and some days even thriving. Through both the good and the bad, I know that I'm growing more and more into the person that I'm made to be. Opportunities to develop professionally also turn into opportunities to develop personally and opportunities develop personally and spiritual turn into opportunities to develop professionally, and there becomes more and more of an overlap between who I am as a student and counselor and who I am as a friend, daughter, girlfriend, roommate, sister, as all of these roles fold into one another, creating the one entity that is me.

"Am I just babbling? Do you know what I mean?" - Diane Court. This could sound vague, but I just don't know how to write about the good or the bad specifically, which is maybe why I haven't written much this year so far.

At the beginning of the year, I dedicated this verse to my 2009, Isaiah 42:16 -

"I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,
along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
and make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
I will not forsake them."

I had a sense on January 1st that I would be embarking on unfamiliar paths this upcoming year, but really didn't know what was right about the bend. I'm experiencing good and bad experiences that are rather unknown, and in ways, unlike anything that I've experienced before. I can say, "This is sorta like x," but no, this is x to the extreme, so much so, that it's not even x anymore, it's z or something. So far, 2009 is the year of extremes, the year of change, the year of utter pain and incredible joy like I've never experienced yet.

2009 Oscars

2009-02-22T11:13:00.007-06:00

So, tonight is the night for the 2009 Oscars. I'll probably DVR it, so I can later go back and watch the speeches and song performances that were worthwhile. A lot of the in between stuff just feels lik filler, so it's often boring to sit down and watch it straight through. In anticipation of the results, here's who I'm predicting and/or rooting for in some key categories:

Actor in a Leading Role
Having just seen The Wrestler last night, I'm rooting for Mickey Rourke. Gosh, he brings so much genuine emotion to a character who, in my opinion, is discovering his humanity for the first time in his life. However, I just saw that Brad Pitt has only been nominated for one Oscar. Really? He's definitely more than a pretty boy, and is so talented in any role that he plays, that it astounds me that this is only his second nomination. So, he's my second choice for winning. Somehow though, I predict that Sean Penn is going to win. I haven't seen Milk yet, but based on his previous work, he'd certainly be deserving, though I'd be more excited for Mickey Rourke or Brad Pitt who haven't yet enjoyed a win.

Actress in a Leading Role
Sadly, I haven't seen any of these nominated performances yet, but my heart is with Kate Winslet. This is her sixth nomination, and she deserves the accolades for her body of work. Come on Academy, don't pull a Susan Lucci on us and keep nominating her if you're not going to award her soon. She's got tough competition against Meryl Streep, who I personally is rather overrated. I feel like there are just never enough good leading actress roles in any given year, which is why I think Angelie Jolie got nominated for a what was probably a great performance in a mediocre film (with only a 61% fresh rating from Rotten Tomatoes).

Actor in a Supporting Role
Ever since his death, I'd been saying that Heath Ledger would get nominated for a posthumous Oscar. And in a way, I hope he wins, which would certainly help seal his status as an iconic talent who died too young, ala James Dean.

Actress in a Supporting Role
Honestly, I'm having a hard time picking a favorite in this category. I'll go for a threeway with Amy Adams - Taraji P. Henson - Marisa Tomei being my favorites. I'm not predicting that any of them will win though, as I really don't know who to predict. I haven't seen Doubt, but Viola Davis does seem to have a lot of buzz, and Penelope Cruz seems like a formidable opponent to be up against.

Animated Feature Film
If WALL-E doesn't win, then there's just no justice in the world and I will never have faith in the academy again. I do wonder, if this category hadn't been created a few years ago, would WALL-I have been nominated for Best Picture? I think that it would have, though I doubt it would have won, though I think it would have been deserving of the win.

Documentary Feature
I haven't seen any of these, but I would love to watch some of them - Man on Wire, Trouble the Water, and Encounters at the End of the World sound especially fascinating.

Foreign Lanuage Film
Again, haven't seen any of these, but I'm interested in Waltz with Bashir, The Class, and the Baader Meinhof Complex.

Music (Score)
I'm torn between Thomas Newman (WALL-E) and A. R. Rahmen (Slumdog Millionaire). My Indian friends tell me that Rahmen's scores for previous films were better, but these films never gained much following outside of India, so this is like this talented composer's one shot at winning that coveted statue. Thomas Newman is definitely deserving for his work on WALL-E, as I feel like the music really made the film, more so than with Slumdog, but he is likely to be nominated again.

Music (Song)
My vote is for "O Saya" from Slumdog Millionaire by A. R. Rahmen and M.I.A. Man, the performances for both this and "Jai Ho" are going to be awesome to watch.

Visual Effects
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. This film just wouldn't have been what it was without the incredible aging/youthing of Brad Pitt.

Best Picture
Given that perhaps the true best picture of the year is in another category, which of these films is really deserving of this title? I feel like it's been a relatively weak film year, and I have trouble wanting to bestow this award on any film this year. Even Roger Ebert didn't declare a best picture, he just listed his 20 best films of the year, instead of of ranked top 10. Really, even the nation's most well-known film critic can't pick a number one film of the year? Well, I am going to pick my favorite - Slumdog Millionaire. If you haven't seen it, then you should by now. It's hard for me to pinpoint what exactly I like about it, but it's a great story with fascinating characters, beautifully made, and I know that I could watch it repeatedly.

Directing
My goodness, is this category filled with amazing individuals with a great body of work! Ron Howard (Apollo 13, A Beautiful Mind, the rumored Arrested Development Film), Gus Van Sant (Good Will Hunting), Stephen Daldry (The Hours, Billy Elliott), plus the never before nominated David Fincher (Fight Club, Se7en) and Danny Boyle (Millions, Trainspotting)! Really, any of these men are worthy of the award. It seems like it generally follows that the winner in this category will win best picture, soooooo . . . Go Danny Boyle, Go!

Writing (Adapted Screenplay) - Simon Beaufoy for Slumdog Millionaire
Writing (Original Screenplay) - Andrew Stanton and Jim Reardon for WALL-E

Ok, I totally just copped out on those last two and selected my two favorite films among all of the nominees.

constant

2009-02-11T11:03:00.000-06:00

A dream I had several nights ago posed an intriguing question. In this dream, I was sitting at a big table of a Tex-Mex restaurant, filled with various friends and people I knew. Sitting across from me was an old high school friend, not one whom I'm particularly close to know, but he asked me this question:

"Imagine that many years later in your life, you appear before God to ask him for something that you've longed for but never yet received. What will you already have?"

This question immediately struck me with the uncertainty of nearly everything in my life. What will I have many years from now? My first thought was friends and family, but I cannot say for certainly which friends will still be in my life and which of my family members will still be living many years from now, and I can't say for certain that I will be married or have children. Then I thought of having my doctorate and my license to work as a psychologist, but even this is shaky. I'm still a few years away from having my doctorate, and there's still a possibility that my course could change. And if I do earn licensure a few years from now, this could also change as my licensure could expire or be revoked or I could change careers entirely. Next, I thought of my personality traits, inner things that I hold that are not likely to change, things like my optimism and my worries. I can say for certain that I will still have some degree of optimism and some number of worries, and will probably still have my friendly, extroverted personality, though I'm likely to grow and change and won't exactly be the same person that I am today, but I'm fairly certain that some core aspects of my personality will never change. I can say for certain that I will still have God himself in my life, even if my thoughts and ideas of him change drastically in the years to come.

Observations upon returning to my own church after a 6 week absence

2009-01-26T16:19:00.003-06:00

The pregnant ladies all now look like they're ready to POP, and some of them are, in about 4-8 weeks.
The littlest kids are all significantly older. Little Zoe's hair is long enough to pull back into pigtails, and she walks more than she crawls now.
Some dudes grew beards.
Some dudes shaved their beards.
Some gals shaved their legs.

it is written

2009-01-25T08:45:00.004-06:00

I've been back for over a week now, and wondering how to restart this blog thing again. Whenever I go away from it, it's always a little hard to know how to return. I've gotten out of the groove, and I lack inspiration. I know that you would probably enjoy reading about my trip, and I'd like to write more about it, but it's hard to know what to write without it becoming a list of my itinerary, and Ben has already written some great posts about Amsterdam, that what could my writings add? My perspective, I suppose, but a lot of my perspective from the trip is best shared one-on-one, and not through a blog. Instead, I found other inspiration this morning.

Last night, I saw Slumdog Millionaire. If you haven't seen it, please see it as soon as possible! I'm going to do my best to talk vaguely about plots points and avoid giving any spoilers, but if you'd prefer to wait to read this until you've seen it, then wait. One of the friends I'd seen it with had already seen it before, and she told me about things that she hadn't noticed the first time, like the depth and complexity of one of the main characters, and how even from childhood, you see the changes that this character undergoes.

This morning, I found myself thinking about the female character from Slumdog, Latika. This movie is many things, and it is most definitely a rescuing the damsel in distress story. When I reflected on that this morning, at first it irked my quasi-feministic side. Why couldn't Latika rescue herself? Why was she so dang submissive toward the men in her life? Why couldn't she have been a more dynamic character, like the boys in the film? But the more I thought about it, she was indeed a complex character. I believe that feminism is about choice, and at a key point in the movie, Latika makes a difficult choice, a choice that probably saves someone else's life, and a choice that leads her to continue her life of submission and degradation by men.

I continued to reflect on this damsel in distress aspect of the plot more, and thought that really, it was a beautiful love story. In our heart of hearts, all women (and probably men too) want this kind of love, of a man who never forgets her. Years may pass, but she is still the love of his life, and he continues searching for her, and will never be satisfied until his love is safe in his arms. He's willing to put himself through danger, and do whatever it takes to be with her. A couple of times in the film, someone asks, "What? Not her again," and encourages the main character to give up on chasing after her. Yes, her, who else but her? No one will compare, and he will continue after her, never giving up hope that they will be together again. Gosh, who doesn't want that?

And I've never been one to get a lot out of the imagery of Christ as the bridegroom, and the church as the bride, but thinking about this film this morning, that image clicked with me. I saw the gospel in this film. I saw a woman, so defiled, so degraded, living with the enemy, first being forced into this awful lifestyle, and then choosing to stay in it. And I saw a man, who loves her infinitely, and more than that, he looks at her and doesn't see her lifestyle, doesn't see the ugliness of her actions and the actions against her, but he sees her for who she is, he sees her as beautiful and pure, and because he does, that is how us, the audience sees her. She's radiant and gorgeous.

how I will spend the rest of my Christmas vacation

2009-01-03T21:12:00.007-06:00

Tomorrow afternoon, I will fly to Houston, then London Heathrow, and then Monday afternoon I will arrive in
where I will attend an opera, and spend the next day sightseeing with a great tour guide. The day after that, we will spend a couple of nights, and about day and a half in

before taking a train to

to spend a few days, before flying to

for a few days and after that I will fly home, via Newark, NJ this time, having eaten, drank, slept, explored, and taken many pictures of cities of four countries that I have yet to set foot upon.

It's an understatement to say that I'm thrilled about this trip, my third European holiday, that was rather spontaneously planned a little over six weeks ago. I'm excited about the sights I will see, the company I will keep, the friends I will meet, the food I will eat, the pictures I will take, the tongues I will hear, ok, everything excites me except for the weather, but even the cold fog and clouds will be an exotic change from the strange warmth Texas has imparted upon us these past few days. And hey, it could be worse, it could be raining! Perhaps it will snow, blanketing an otherworldy magic onto a place that already seems so enchanting to me, or perhaps the clouds will break and the sun will shine down unexpectedly. Whatever the weather, I will love this time.

free Ben & Jerry's advertising

2008-12-31T15:50:00.002-06:00

Happy New Year Everyone! I hope you each have a special way of saying good-bye to 2008 and welcoming 2009 :)

a few moments

2008-12-26T21:04:00.004-06:00

There's something really invigorating after a hard, long day filled with more tears than seem necessary, to step outside into a windy night, feeling the gales blast around you, as if the wind will rip off your tears and sorrows and send them flying far far away into the night air, and the sky looms overhead, strangely still blue from the city lights, and small clouds are visible across the sky, and if you look closely, you actually see the clouds moving, quite fast probably, accompanied by the lone airplane moving in the opposite direction of these clouds, and it all seems so big, the wind, and the sky, and you seem so small in comparison, and there's an odd comfort in that, knowing that there is something so much bigger than you, and your sufferings are just a small piece of a much bigger, much grander story, and in light of eternity, this time is short, and realizing this maybe isn't enough to make you smile, but it's enough to make you pause, and this pause is good, and in this pause, you feel life.

far as the curse is found

2008-12-23T20:58:00.009-06:00

In my last post, I mentioned that I hadn't gotten sick at all this past semester. I probably spoke too soon, because now I'm sick today, some sort of cold with a minor fever. Great, on the Eve of Christmas Eve, which means that I'll likely be feeling somewhat icky during all my family's Christmas celebrations :( For some of these family members, especially on my dad's side, this is the only time of the year when I see them, so I pray that I have the energy to enjoy their company and keep up with conversations. I've been sucking down the Cold-eeze, and will probably head to bed early, as soon as the TCU bowl game is over. Could be worse. I could be jet lagged.

I've been enjoying a lot of Christmas music lately, and even when caroling around my neighborhood about a week ago. It's a neat experience, and if you haven't done it recently, I highly recommend gathering some friends and family, printing out song lyrics, wearing warm clothes (or t-shirts, if Texas is being fickle like it has been these past couple of weeks), and harassing your neighbors with your attempts at singing. They might even pity you enough to give you cookies or candy canes - our neighbors sure did.

I remember listening to "Joy to the World" back in June or July because it was on a Tom Conlon CD called "Eight Roads Home" that I had purchased after seeing him live. He performed this song, stating that it shouldn't just be a Christmas song, that we should sing it all year round, and I think he's right. As with a lot of Christmas songs, it sounds like "Joy" could be describing both the first incarnation of our Savior, and his return as king. Verses describing fields, floods, rocks, hills, and plains repeating the joy of men do remind me more of the second coming, as the rocks haven't yet shouted out their audible praises. I truly love the third verse, one that I hadn't heard very often until listening to the Tom Conlong version.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as, the curse is found.

This Christmas season, as I've heard more versions of this song, I keep getting the "far as the curse is found" part stuck in my head. Even when this verse isn't sung, I find myself hearing those words, "far as the curse is found," and I imagine every part of creation where the curse could be found, where sin and sorrow, death and destruction, are hiding in darkness. I visualize the blessings of Christ, His powerful victory of sin and death, salvation, redemption, flowing like a river over all the earth, into ever crack and crevice where the curse could be hiding and bringing light, goodness, holiness, justice, mercy, joy, forgiveness, freedom, beauty, and restoration. This is the hope that I celebrate this Christmas season.

Merry Christmas, brothers and sisters, dear friends :) I hope that this hope encourages you this season and is realized fully in your life. I love you and am thankful for you.

the semester I felt satisfied

2008-12-22T11:23:00.006-06:00

I feel the need to summarize and reflect on my semester that ended about 11 days ago. Academically and life-wise (I could say socially, but it's more like, social-spiritual-emotional-physical), this has been my best semester so far at A&M. It's had its challenges, but overall, I've felt very content and satisfied and feel really blessed. It's also been comparatively stress-free. I feel like I've gotten a lot of great variety of counseling and assessment experience this semester through my program - counseling and assessing older adults at the nursing home in St. Joseph's, couples counseling at our clinic, learning how to administer and interpret intelligence and achievement assessments and write integrated assessment reports. I really feel like I'm growing and improving my skills as a practitioner, and this is the most important thing for me to learn from this program.

Unfortunately, I still feel like I'm floundering in the research area of our program. There have been a couple of research projects that were supposed to start or we did start, but completely fell through. I'm working on a manuscript to submit for publication with one of my professor's, but she's been too busy with other projects to meet with me about it lately, but we plan to pick that up in the spring. Part of me feels like I just need to suck it up and join someone else's research team and do something that I'm not as interested in, but part of me believes that I can find something to study that I'm truly passionate about. I have a couple of ideas of research projects that I might want to start in the spring, and a research grant that I'd like to apply for, and I'm sure now would be a good time to get started on some lit reviews and writing out preliminary ideas to present to my professors, but it's been more appealing to catch up with friends, bake Christmas goodies with my mom, plan my europe trip, and basically piddle around lazily and sleep a lot more than I'm used to doing.

But even if I'm kinda falling behind research-wise, in other academic areas, I'm doing quite well. As I've already mentioned, I feel like I'm really growing as a practitioner, and I've gained quite a lot of direct client hours this past year, that will be valuable when applying for internship in about two years. I have a great assistantship with a supportive boss, who's moving me into a better position starting in the summer, as a service coordinator for our clinic. There's a lot involved in this position and will definitely be more demanding than my current position, but the experience will be better, as I'll be doing things like phone intakes with potential clients to determine their therapy and assessment needs. Also, I have a good practicum lined up for the spring and another one potentially for the summer. Unfortunately, many members of my cohort have struggled to find practicum sites for the spring and a few of them left this semester still not sure where they would go, so I feel very blessed to have found a spot so relatively easily. It's not perfect, I'm not doing my best in every area, and there are certainly things that I'd like to change about this program, but overall, I'm very happy with where I'm at and thankful for the opportunities that I've had this past semester.

Life-wise, this has also been my best season living in BCS. I changed small groups within my church, and at first, I was against this, and even when I accepted the decision to move into another group, I mourned the loss of my previous group and was reluctant to hope that this new small group could be just as fulfilling. Thankfully, I was wrong. Within a month, this new group has blossomed completely, we share so openly with one another, we love to spend time with each other, and it's a group filled with love, concern, honesty, openness, hope, wisdom, and guidance. I've written about them before, but I'm been so blessed by my friendship with the leaders of this group, and I'm finding myself connecting more and more with the other group members. These are all wonderful people following Christ their Savior, people who are so full of life, so joyful and loving, but also so open with their brokenness and weakness and failures. These are exactly the sort of people that I want to surround myself with, and I look forward to being back with them, to receive their hugs and smiles and laughter and tears and prayers. I pray that our friendships will deepen and that I can become closer to them in the coming months.

Socially, I've made more friends this semester, but have also seen some friendships in BCS become a little stagnant. I live in a house full of girls who love to bake and watch Grey's Anatomy and play games and talk about their boyfriends and now fiance. These girls are delightful, but sometimes I feel a bit like an outsider, the girl who lives in the garage apartment on the other side of the house, the girl who's in graduate school, the girl who's 23 instead of 20, the girl who didn't work at Sky Ranch this past summer, the girl who is single and who isn't planning her wedding right now. But I know that below the surface, we have more in common than not, and I do desire to be closer to these women. In fact, I'm emailing them right now. Every little step counts, right? In addition to these roommates and new friends through my small group, I've gotten to know two first years in our program who are really wonderful young women and I connect so easily with. I'm excited about continuing this program with them, and getting to know them better in the years to come.

Emotionally, as I've said, I've been less stressed, and less distressed. Most of the time I'm pretty happy or at least content, and often really joyful and excited, though still sometimes frustrated, sad, angry, or jealous. This seems to be pretty typical, and much better considering how a few months ago I described for someone that I have having more lows than highs. I do still have lows, but they're not as frequent, and not as extreme. Whenever I do have some horrible emotional crisis, it doesn't last that long, and I feel more in control of my emotions.

Physically, I've been sleeping 7-8 hours a night, eating well, and riding my bike quite frequently. I have not gotten sick at all this past semester (knock on wood), which is a great improvement, as I got sick at least 5 times my first year at A&M, and I usually only get sick once a year. I attribute this to adjusting to the new climate finally and being less stressed. I'm convinced that emotional and physical health are quite intertwined.

Spiritually, well, I don't quite know the best way to measure spiritual well-being. I feel more free than I have been, and I know that fear and worry does not control me as much as it did. I think that I'm learning to trust God more, and to trust that His will truly is best, and that I want to follow that will, and that He is leading and guiding and providing for me and I have less fear knowing that He has conquered death and will not lead me to anything that He won't give me the strength to endure. I really have seen Christ work a great victory over many of my fears this past year, and I rejoice in that, and know that there are more fears and sins to be conquered. I have experienced the love of the church in many tangible ways, and I give and experience God's love when I participate in the loving community of my church. I feel free and renewed and I feel that my commitment to Christ is firm and secure, and I've been forgiving more and showing more grace to others, in ways that I see the Spirit working through me.

The other day, while with a dear friend here in DFW, I became very sad as I told her that "things just aren't the way that I'd like them to be." She started tearing up, sad that this was so for me, which made me tear up also. It's true, there are lots of things that I would like to change about my life in BCS, and my life here in DFW, but as I look back on this past semester, I see the good far outweighs the bad. I feel gratitude for God's faithfulness and all that he has given to me and even the things that he has withheld from me. I see that I'm being blessed and provided for, and I see that I'm growing and changing and becoming more the person that I'm meant to be.

'tis the season for giving

2008-12-18T19:03:00.006-06:00

I am proud of myself for having completed ALL of my Christmas gift shopping in a 24 hour period.

This was easily accomplished by the fact that I decided to only give physical, store-bought, traditionally wrapped Christmas gifts to my family members. Given my family make-up, this consists of my parents, step-parents, and stepsister and her son. I don't usually buy Christmas gifts for my stepsister or her three year old son, but she's going through some hard times these days, and he's my only nephew even though he's a step-nephew and we're not blood related, so I decided that I could buy some books for her to read to him :)

I'm very pleased with my decision to drastically cut back on my Christmas shopping. It was a hard decision, because I absolutely love giving and receiving gifts, but it wasn't such a hard decision because I don't really enjoy Christmas shopping. This seems like a contradiction, but it's not when you you think about. I love giving birthday gifts, having one special friend or family member to think about, brainstorming about what they would love, what would show that I cared, what gift would just delight and thrill her or him. It's a fun process, and I find it fulfilling to give a meaningful gift.

But multiply that one special someone by about 15, add the stress of finals into the mix, subtract funds because I'm a graduate student and most of my friends have real jobs and salaries 2/3/4 times mine, and add the crowds of the malls into the mix, and suddenly, gift-giving isn't so fun. When it comes time to buy Christmas gifts, I usually wait until after finals, and am then rushing to try to buy something for about 15 different people, and when there's that many people to consider, it's overwhelming to really spend time to decide on a meaningful gift for each one of them. I try my best, but usually wind up buying whatever strikes me for some of these folks. For the past few years, Christmas gift giving has become more stressful than it should be, and not the meaningful gift-giving that I would like it to be. I really, really like giving Christmas gifts to my friends, but it's the shopping for them that I don't enjoy.

An out presented itself when one of my high school friends (who I often shop for) suggested that instead of giving gifts to one another, we buy polo t-shirts for the poor students at her school where she teaches who's families cannot afford more than 2-3 uniforms for them. We all decided that this was a swell idea, and in addition to bringing food and drink and games to my annual New Year's Party, my friends are also bringing shirts to donate to her school. I think that this is a terrific idea that gives to others while relieves us of the stress of buying gifts for one another!

I still am trying to stay in the giving spirit toward those that I love. My mom and I have baked candies that I've given to some of my friends already, I'm spending time with them, enjoying their, helping them make Christmas gifts for their loved ones, helping them make dinner, trying on bridesmaids dresses with them, throwing them a wonderful New Year's Eve party. Even if I'm not giving them the traditional Christmas gift this year, I believe that I'm giving a lot of love, and a lot of myself to these dear ones. More than the funds, it's the time from not shopping that I feel most relieved to have back. My time is very loose these days, and that's rare for me, so I feel free to spend time with my family, my friends, and for myself, planning my upcoming trip to Europe, reading, and relaxing. This gift of time, for others and for myself, has been invaluable this Christmas season. I don't think that Christ ever intended us to stress ourselves out and empty our wallets to buy things that we really don't need when the word became flesh and made its dwelling among us. I'm sure I could be doing more this advent season to honor Christ and serve and love those around me, but, well, there's no but, there's no sense in wasting words to justify myself.

I've settled in quite well to the slower pace of this year's Christmas break. Wake up around 9 or 10. Pray and read my Bible. Check my email. Eat some breakfast. Maybe take a shower around noon, unless I somewhere to be earlier than that. Spend the afternoon with a friend, or my mom, planning my trip, or running errands like getting a hair cut or my car fixed. Come home. Eat dinner. Make candy, attend a church event with my mom, eat dinner with my dad, watch a movie, or simply relax together with my family. Stay up too late on the internet, and go to bed. It's a much slower pace than I'm used to, and I'd prefer to do more social things in the evenings, but I've decided to enjoy this time for what it is. It's rare that I actually have time to be bored, so I figure I should embrace it, boredom and loneliness and all, and it's really not as boring or lonely as I first expected. I do have some school-related things that I'm currently procrastinating, and next week is Christmas, the following week is New Year's, and then I'm flying across the ocean, so things will be hopping soon enough.

I've made most of my major purchases that I will be packing to prepare for the winter winds in Europe - the biggest one being a long, past my knees, black, poofy, down-filled, coat, and others being fake ugg boots, gloves, hat, thermal underwear, and a lovely black sweater dress with purple, black, and grey argyle tights that I plan to wear Christmas Eve, to the opera in Berlin, and probably back home seeing clients. I've got a few more random purchases at the the grocery to make, and I think the woman who is hosting me in Berlin wants some things from the US, but clothing-wise, I should be nice and warm. Texas weather has kindly dropped down to temperatures colder than Europe to help prepare me for the chill that I will soon face. It's not going to be an unbearable cold, but as I'll be spending a lot of my time wandering around outside, it's good to be bundled up and prepared. That is, as prepared as one can be for an adventure that is not yet written, an adventure that makes me feel excited and a little nervous but mostly thrilled to be a participant of.

constant companion

2008-12-16T18:27:00.006-06:00

As a musician, her guitar has become her companion. She tells me how when she's been lonely, she could play her guitar for hours. Song after song, her dear friend entertains and comforts her.

I am not a musician; I have never experienced the companionship of an instrument. Have any of you ever had an object, maybe not an instrument, perhaps a favorite book, or a hobby, or a favorite television show or film, that brings you companionship? Can you turn to that thing, when there is no one else present, and find comfort and fun and a fulfilling way to pass the time?

She's not an object, but I remember when I adopted my cat Gracie 15 months ago, and our first drive back to College Station together. She cried the entire way. I remember telling her, "It's you and me, Gracie, you and me." I remember thinking about how for many years to come, she will be my companion, traveling back and forth with me, moving to new homes and cities. I had no idea who I would live with the following year or where I would live in few years when I had finished my coursework or who else would ever make this drive back and forth between BCS and DFW with me, but I knew that she would be with me. I felt empowered, a 22 year old graduate student woman and her cat, ready to take on the world, ready to go wherever life takes us. Since that time, I've made many more friends in the BCS, young men have come in and out of my life, I considered a living situation that would not have allowed me to keep Gracie, but I've moved into a new home, and Gracie and I have clocked who knows how many thousands of miles back and forth together. She still cries the whole way, though not as loudly or as frequently, and sometimes I cry with her, but mostly I sing. I know she's just a pet, but it's comforting having a companion who will probably be with me for many more years, as I graduate, and move, and start my career, and perhaps marry and start a family. Maybe my oldest children will pet her when she's old and feeble, as I used to pet my parents' old cats when I was a child. Or maybe circumstances will prevent me from keeping her, but for now, she is a constant.

My True Constant is my God and Savior, and I find such peace is knowing that whatever changes happen, He is. I have to be honest though, that I rarely think of God as my companion. I've heard people speak of Christ as being their best friend, their husband, their lover, etc, but these images and metaphors have never really described my relationship with Him, and there was a time that I thought I was less of a Christian for not having Jesus as my boyfriend. He is my God, my Lord, my Savior, my Rescuer, my Comforter, my Confidant, my Shepherd, my Guide, my Wisdom, my Father, my Mother, my Love, my Strength, my Confidence, my Guardian, my Protector. He holds me in His hands, He guards me with His wings, He leads me with His light, and I feel confident in knowing that whatever happens, I want His will more than anything else I desire. But it's hard for me to call Him my friend. I want Him to be that too already, but I feel fortunate to have a lifetime and beyond to explore who He is and who He is not.

home?

2008-12-12T16:57:00.006-06:00

I've been "home" for about twenty-four hours now. It's strange, yesterday I packed up to leave my home to drive home. After 16 months in Bryan/College Station, I am now happy to say that I consider it my home, but that doesn't negate Keller/Fort Worth from also being my home. I guess it's ok for me to have two homes. There's not a rule against that, right? Who says that you must only have one home?

Leaving home to come home is bittersweet. I'm relieved to be done with this past semester (as incredible as it was, maybe a reflection post is due), and I'm thrilled about spending three weeks in this home with family and friends and then two weeks in Europe, but part of me is really going to miss my other home during this time. This past Sunday at church, as we continued to celebrate advent, as my comgroup leaders announced a Christmas party they were hosting, as one of our pastors urged students staying over the holidays to find church members to spend the holidays with, "Don't be lonely, we are here for you, so you don't have to be lonely over the holidays," I found myself wishing that I could be with this community, this church that I am a covenant member of, to celebrate the advent and Christmas season. It was hard to realize that I will be missing 5 Sundays with them. Since I started attending this church, this is probably the longest that I've been away from it. I mentioned this to one of my fellow church members, and she replied, "You can always come back and visit."

I'm not seriously planning on going back to visit during the break, but this internal desire to be back demonstrated itself as stronger that I realized today. This morning, I realized that I forgot my allergy serum at my house, and honestly was looking forward to making a trip back down there to go get it. Of course, I'd go on a Sunday, go to church, spend the night, and drive back Monday morning or afternoon. Unfortunately, my plans were spoiled when my mom asked if there were any friends still in town that were headed up to DFW anytime soon. Naturally, I soon found a friend who picked up my serum today, and we're going to meet up sometime in the next few days.

There was also a part of my spirit that cringed when I heard my pastor say, "You don't have to be lonely because we're here." I wished that he had said this at the beginning of the summer break. This past summer was one of the loneliest seasons in my life, and I wish someone could have prevented that loneliness. My church was there for me, and I certainly spent time with church members, but I still spent a lot of time alone, and I often felt lonely and left out, and I cried many tears just out of pure loneliness, and wished that people would have reached out to me more. I don't know, what happened happened, and one of the church members even encouraged me to spend time alone, and to spend time alone with God, and to be ok with being alone, and I think I learned a lot from that, and maybe would have grown more if I'd just accepted the loneliness instead of trying to fight it kicking and screaming.

And now I'm crying unexpected tears as I write this, and trying to figure out why. Last summer was really hard, and I wish that it had been different, and I wish that I didn't ever have to feel lonely again, but damnit, it seems like loneliness is just part of life, and I hate that. And I hate hearing my pastor say, "You don't have to be lonely," when that feels like a lie, and it feels like something that shouldn't be promised. And now I'm in a different home, and the relationships I have here are more deeply-rooted and older and more mature, but that also makes them more emotionally intense, and perhaps more exhausting, as there are more expectations from old friendships than from new friendships. Maybe it's just been an emotional day on a different front, and the tears are just coming out when I gave them the first opportunity.

I'm excited about these three weeks at home, but also partly nervous. I'm just not sure what to expect, especially with all this time on my hands. Most of my friends who live here work full time now, so what am I going to with my time during the day before Christmas? I brought home at least a dozen books that I may or may not read, books on therapy, books on Christianity, and fiction books that could be really enriching. I have a little bit of schoolwork to accomplish. I will have lots of time with my mom, shopping, and cooking, and seeing movies. I will possibly blog more. I will finalize my plans for my Europe trip. I will upload pictures. I will prepare for my New Year's Party I'm hosting. When I think about it, I suppose that's more than enough to do when I'm not doing scheduled things with friends and family. I suppose I should just soak it up and enjoy it too, because once it's over, it's going to be a while before I get a break like this again.

This isn't at all the post that I thought I would write when I first started writing it, but that's ok. I like it when the words just start flowing and what I'm writing just takes over, as if my fingers are just conduits for whatever should come through me.

I'm home again, but I'm away from home.

I'm not done with my traveling, so let's run, let's run, let's run

2008-12-05T12:51:00.003-06:00

Final week of the semester. Two blog posts in one day. I'm not avoiding doing anything. No, never, of course not!

My classmate Daniel stopped by my office, not to collect a protocol, not to turn in a test kit, but just to say good-bye and wish me a good break! It really touched me that he thought of me in the midst of all of the preparations he must be making to leave town today. He informed me that him and his girlfriend are taking a motorcycle trip down to Panama and back in the next 6 weeks! On their way back, they are going to climb the highest peak in every Central American country - incredible! He gave me the address to his blog where he will be updating about his adventures throughout the trip. I'm thrilled for him and Lauren, and excited to see his updates on my google reader! Even though you probably don't know him, I encourage you to read along and see how this crazy adventure turns out with them:

http://ridewithdaniel.blogspot.com/

As you know, travel is one of my great passions, one of the things that excites me the most in life! Why else would I plan a trip to Europe on a whim if it wasn't something that really ignites my being? I realized today how I'm managed to surround myself with people who also share this passion and desire to travel the world or even to live in another country. Even looking at the blogs that I follow, there's Emily who's living in Bangladesh with her sister's family right now, Ben who is a missionary in Berlin, Anton who has traveled around the world to many incredible places over the past two years and created video blogs to document his journeys, Cara who I'm pretty sure started her blog while she was living in Barcelona, Britt, who traveled with me around Europe summer 2007, and Amy who worked on a musical production in Germany a few months ago. And truly, all of you write of the places you travel within the US, of running marathons in San Francisco, of celebrating New Year's Eve in New York city, of adventures in Alaska, and each of you dream of travel, and write about where you want to be, and I share those dreams.

I feel blessed to have so many dear friends who also love travel, who I can share with in the excitement of their journeys, who can dream with me, who have traveled alongside me in the past, who will travel with me in the future, and who encourage me to go and do this thing that brings me to life and thrills me to my core! Brothers and sisters, let's run!

calcium sulfate

2008-12-05T09:29:00.004-06:00

Every once in a while, this campus absolutely surprises, delights, and enchants me.

This morning, all over the sidewalks were chalk-written messages of encouragement and hope for students taking finals:

"You're prepared!"
"You'll do great!"
"Merry Christmas!"
"It's almost over!"
"If you're worried, say a prayer."
"God bless."

I wonder if these are all over campus. I wonder how many people were involved, and when they did this. I like to imagine a bunch of black-clad, chalk wielding vigilante Christians sneaking around all over campus at 3 am this morning to spread messages of hope and cheer. Or they probably just did it in normal clothes, and people saw them do it, but I like to imagine.

At any rate, it made me smile, and completely forget for a few minutes the scratches down my the side of my car that my roommate accidentally inflicted upon my vehicle at 5am this morning. I'm not mad, in fact, it's really just annoying that we'll have to take care of it. I'll probably wait until I go home before I get it fixed. Pathetically, the worst part right now is that in the rush and excitement of trying to figure out what had happened, I completely forgot my backpack, which contained protocols I was going to turn in, and even worse - my coffee. So instead of my homemade Starbucks brew, I'm drinking break room coffee mixed with hot cocoa to make it palatable.

But it's all ok, because there are good people out there who use chalk for spreading joy :)

It's almost over.

Happy Birthday Cara

2008-12-03T12:02:00.008-06:00

My friend Cara turns 23 today. In honor of this momentous occasion, I am dedicating this blog post to the story of our friendship together, complete with photographic evidence!

Cara and I met summer of 2004 in Longview through my cousin Laura, following my freshmen year at TCU and prior to her arrival at TCU. She was wearing cool green shoes that I had almost bought from Old Navy, so right off the bat, this friendship was off to a solid start.

This is us within our first year of friendship, February 2005, at the celebration of our dear friend Britt's birthday. As you can clearly see, during this time I was actually a ferocious unicorn and Cara was a triceratops. I was cruel enough to inform her that she was extinct, but she informed me that I actually never existed. Oh snap!

May 2005, at my birthday party. By this point, Cara had decided that unicorns are obviously cooler, and shed her dinosaur ways to join me as a mythical beast. Nonexistence is pretty hip, yo.

December 2005, Cara's birthday party. We decided to both become human, but this decision was fraught with tension and stress, which led to our mutual abuse of one another.

April 2006. After months of counseling and a hard night in jail, we gave up our violent tendencies and decided to pursue a kind, loving friendship held together by mutual admiration of one another's fashion sense.

May 2006, Mortar Board inductions. Making the decision to pursue nonviolence also led to academic success, as we were inducted into several of the same academic honor societies during our time at TCU. In actuality, it was my jealousy and admiration of Cara's academic success that inspired me to be a high achiever in college, so as not to be left behind by my formerly triceratopian friend.

September 2007. During this season of our friendship, Cara had developed a life-threatening disease that required her torso to remain hydrated at all times. Fortunately, the sounds of Regina Spektor and the Decemerberists at ACL proved to be the cure that she needed.

March 2007, no longer disease ridden, Cara and I were able to enjoy concerts together without the strange hydration apparatus. Freedom from this device allowed us opportunities such as partying with the young men of Phosphorescent. Unfortunately, Cara rejected my advances and our relationship has remained mostly platonic.

May 2007, we both got drunken tattoos together to celebrate Cara's graduation from TCU. Honestly, it seemed like a really good idea at the time, and now I have a constant reminder of our friendship.

July 2008, we gaze out into the great unknown of our lives together. What will the next months and years hold for us? Only time will tell.

Happy 23rd Birthday Sweet Baby Angle!!!!

expectancy

2008-12-01T09:13:00.002-06:00

She called to tell me that she was about 20 minutes away. My dear friend, whom I hadn't seen in nearly four months, was now only 20 minutes away from my door, my home, my arms. My parents and I set the table and filled the glasses with ice. I munched on some okra. By the time the dinner preparations were done, I checked my cell phone and saw that about 10 minutes had passed since she had called. She was 10 minutes away. I grabbed a few more pieces of okra. My excitement grew, as I knew that in just a few more minutes, she would arrive. I wished I could snap my fingers and let those minutes turn into seconds, so that she could be here - NOW! I didn't want to wait any longer, I just wanted her here. My longing for her intensified, as she was so close to my home. I recognized this feeling as the feeling of expectancy, and as the minutes passed, the feeling intensified. Any minute now, that doorbell would ring. I paced a little, trying to find something else to do in the kitchen. I looked at my cell phone again. Ate some more okra. I raced to the door when I thought I heard a car door slam, but no one was visible outside.

I finally gave up my pacing, grabbed a few more okra pieces, and headed back upstairs to my computer. Within minutes, the doorbell rang, and I heard my stepdad call out, "Someone's here!" I raced downstairs to find that my mom had just opened the door, and my sweet angle of a friend had just entered my home! I ran forward, in between her and my mom, and grabbed her for a hug. As I held her tight, I heard my mom laughingly say, "Ok, you can have the first hug!" That was indeed my intention, and maybe it was slightly possessive, but I was so excited to hug her, to be with her again, that I didn't want anyone else to hug her first.

As I waited for her to arrive and recognized this feeling of expectancy, I wondered if I could compare this experience to Advent, to waiting for the Messiah, to waiting for the coming of the kingdom and the time when Christ will reign and all will be set right. Could it be, that in these moments of waiting for a friend, there was a pale, earthly reminder of something holy and sacred?

Oh, and that okra was half gone by the time she arrived :/

another post about community disguised in another post about Europe

2008-11-26T22:15:00.004-06:00

This past Sunday, I bought a spinach stuffed pizza and glanced around the food court to find a place to sit. It's rare for me to eat by myself in public, but in the midst of coat-shopping prior to meeting some friends at Eye Masters, I had no choice but to eat alone. In the midst of families and teenagers, I finally settled at an empty table next to a middle-aged white couple. I realized that not only did I feel awkward eating by myself, but I also felt a little uneasy. I regret to admit that as diverse as my classmates are, despite having taken two diversity/multicultural classes, and in spite of the dozens of minority individuals and families that I have volunteered with and counseled, there is still a white girl from the 'burbs inside of me who sometimes feels uncomfortable eating by herself in the food court of a diverse mall :/ I subconsciously elected to sit by the white middle-aged couple, and as I forked into my stuffed pizza, it became apparent why I had chosen to sit by them. This couple strongly reminded me of my dad and stepmom. The husband was even wearing a law enforcement polo that resembles one of my dad's!

Despite the familiar comfort of this couple nearby, I was still feeling a little uneasy when I realized that in 6 weeks, I'll be doing exactly this in another country. Bam. I suddenly felt very silly. Why was I so worried about eating alone? In 6 weeks, I'm going to hug my mom good-bye and hop on a plane by myself to go to Europe by myself. Granted, I'll meet a friend over there, but still, I'm going by myself. Gosh, at the very least, I can be fine eating at a food court in my own hometown by myself! It's strange how I can feel confident doing something in a different country that makes me feel awkward and nervous in my own backyard. But the truth is, the few times that I have traveled by myself, I feel confident. I feel at peace, I feel capable, I feel at ease, I feel courageous. This experience is going to be good for the little girl from the 'burbs who gets nervous at the food court. BTW, I'm now definitely going to Budapest thanks to the magic of Easyjet.

Later that day, as I was driving to church, I started praying a prayer that I sometimes offer when I'm headed to be with my church community. I prayed that I would show love to those at my church. I prayed that I would be able to give to them. When I go to church or comgroup, I often feel such a need for others that praying this way helps remind me that the need is mutual, that we should be interdependent, that I want to love this family and bless them and give to them, and not just take from them. And I often find that when I want something from another, I often leave the interaction somewhat dissatisfied, but when I want to give something to another, I generally walk away more fulfilled. As I was praying this, I realized how I'd spent the past few days primarily talking about Europe with others, trying to decide whether to go, and then sharing my excitement about the decision. I felt somewhat guilty for some of these one-sided conversations, but soon felt gratitude. I feel gratitude that I have so many close friends and caring adults in my life who support me, who encourage me to pursue my dreams, who listen to me, who speak wisdom into my life, who give love. I feel gratitude for having relationships with people who not only cup their hands to receive my tears, but who also open their arms to receive my excitement, joy, and triumphs! Sharing my excitement about Europe has reminded me of this. Though a few have responded with some type of jealously, most have responded with pure happiness for this opportunity. And I want to be this for others, I want to rejoice and celebrate with my friends and family members when they share their joyful experiences with me! I want to give the same gift to those I love that I have received this past week and many times before.

Happy Thanksgiving dear ones :) You are each a wonderful, precious blessing to me, and I receive so much from you. I care deeply about you and hope to give to you and share with you in the ways that you give to me. Thank you.

I did it!

2008-11-22T09:45:00.003-06:00

I'm going to Europe.

January 4th-16th.

Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague, and maybe Budapest.

Thanksgiving, turn in final reports and papers, Merry Christmas family and friends, Happy New Years, try on some bridesmaids dresses, buy a nice winter coat on sale after-Christmas, and hit the skies!

I've been wanting to go back to Europe since I went last summer, and the opportunity arose. Good deals on plane tickets, unexpected funds, a friend in one of the cities to show me around, and 5 weeks off for Christmas break this year. Yes, it's spontaneous, but that's one of the best parts! I spend a mere two days thinking, praying, and talking about it before I made the plunge to by the plane ticket. Honestly, I knew that whatever reservations I may have had, I would regret not doing this. I'm a young single adult, not tied down by a career or family, so I can do things like this! I don't have to just sit around and dream and plan, I can act on my dreams! And I did :)

It's going to be miserably cold, so I'll need to buy a really good coat, and bring lots of sweaters and scarves and things to layer with, but oh well. I went to New York in January once and managed quite well, the only time I remember feeling cold was standing in line to buy Broadway tickets, though it was probably sunnier there than it will be in Europe, but still. I'll bundle up and keep movie and warm myself in museums and coffee shops and restaurants when necessary.

If you've been to any of those cities, please comment, please email me, give me suggestions of what to see, where to stay, what not to see, where not to stay, etc. 6 weeks in the midst of finals and holidays isn't a ton of time to plan, but I know that planning for this trip in the upcoming weeks will be a wonderful distraction :)

Right now, I'm alternating between being so excited, that I can't stop talking about it, to just sorta being in a state of disbelief. Am I really doing this? Yes, yes, YES!!! Eventually I'll come down from this high enough to focus on other things and be able to hold non-Europe related conversations.

Europe is being young, being mature, being independent, being free, being cultured, being open, being awe-struck, adventurous, courageous, active, spontaneous, and alive. I am alive.

weighing me down

2008-11-19T18:03:00.005-06:00

I'd like to be Europe right now. Or the mountains. Or somewhere warm. Warm European mountains, maybe? They probably don't exist, at least not right now. Maybe Chile or Argentina has warm mountains right now, hmm.

It's that time of the semester again when I'm stressed. Stressed about finishing assignments, stressed about family, stressed about money, stressed about not having enough direction, stressed about not be able get into all my spring classes yet, stressed about not having enough sleep. Basically, I'm just letting it all get to me, once I get stressed about one thing, then everything piles on top of me. I need to say no to this pattern. I need to get a massage that I still have a gift certificate for.

Thanksgiving and Christmas stress me out right now. I'm looking forward to having a nice long break in just another few weeks, I guess. Advent begins soon. This will be good, I need to remember what I'm hoping for, and the hope and salvation and kingdom that already exists now and is coming.

I'm going to go eat some sushi. And study the WAIS-IV. And read some words of hope. And sleep for a solid 8 hours.

Europe still sounds really nice.

word vomit AKA 3 posts condensed into one

2008-11-17T21:16:00.005-06:00

Self-compassion. It's the idea of realistically loving oneself. Not just self-esteem which could turn arrogant by only focusing on the good, but being humble enough to recognize one's faults and mistakes and forgive oneself, not punishing oneself, but caring for the self. Not self-indulgence, but self-care. I see so many ways that when I'm stressed or lonely or sad I become self-indulgent, eating ice cream, watching television, drinking lots of coffee, drinking alcohol, staying up late on the internet, many of those deliberate behaviors because, "I deserve this." When really, the most caring thing to do for myself would be to go to bed, eat healthier, exercise, and engage in activities that truly refresh my body and spirit, like prayer, journaling, reading. But often I choose indulgence because my flesh craves it, and these things seem to promise satisfaction, but they are empty and only occupy me for moments, and leave me still wanting. But where is the line between treating myself and enjoying life's simple pleasures and acting self-indulgently? Maybe it's the motivation. If I'm filling my body and mind with something because I think it will help me to escape sadness, stress, or loneliness, then it's probably self-indulgent. If I'm doing something because it's loving and caring toward myself, because it truly feeds my soul and refreshes me, then it's probably self-care. God, grant me discernment. My friend recently said that often how we treat others is how we treat ourselves. I want these two things to be congruent. I don't want to treat myself better than I treat others or to treat others better than I treat myself. I want to forgive others and self, and I want to feed and water and care for others and self.

An agent of change. Or maybe a conduit of change, a vessel through which real and transformation can occur. As a counselor, I want to be this. I'm great at being empathic, at providing a warm, safe place for others to share their pains and thoughts and feelings and feel understood and not judged. This is a great quality about me, and that's the first step. But I want to move from that, I don't want to be indulgent of my clients and those around me either, I want to help move them toward change. Which I don't really effectively know how to do. When I do see change in others, it seems random, and motivated by outside forces. I don't know. And it's frustrating too when so many people, myself included, don't really want change, but just want to feel better. I say that I want to change certain things about myself, my life, and my relationships, but often, the familiar is comfortable. Even if it's stressful and sad and disconnected and unsatisfying, changing it would be icky and messy and maybe this little pit will get a little more warm if I lay here a bit longer, maybe not, but the climb up is strenuous, why don't you make the climb first and throw down a rope and pull me up? I do feel myself growing and changing, but I also feel myself resisting the growth. What am I resisting? What am I avoiding? Responsibility? Accountability? Awareness that yes, I really am a dirty, ugly sinner?

Who reads this blog? When I started this over two years ago, I had this plan to stay anonymous. I'll be crackers and cheese instead of my name, and I'll post cryptic poetry that no one will ever know what events and what people in my life inspired the poems. But the anonymity quickly faded, and my posts became more personal, more real, more genuine. And I made friends through this blog, Martha, Ben, Anton, I'm so glad that this blog brought you into my life. I am thankful for you. And it's allowed me to keep up with old friends, Cara, Britt, and Laura especially. I love you deeply. And there are other friends, and I enjoy you too. But it's still stayed a tight, somewhat exclusive circle. I still don't use my name. I don't have a link on facebook. Until about a month ago, if you're reading this, it's because you have a blog too, and we're somehow connected in that way. Recently, my friend from high school, Emily, started a blog to chronicle her year in Bangladesh, and she started reading my blog. Since then, a couple of other dear, close friends who don't have blogs have discovered my blog and started reading. I never was deliberately hiding this from you, it just seemed so separate, this blog life, different from the life that I share with you. But it's the same in a way, so it seems natural and good and right that you are reading this now and that this blog circle is opening up more.

But I somewhat like having this blog stay somewhat exclusive. It gives me a freedom to write in honest, real ways that I might not if I knew that anybody who knew me on facebook would find this blog. But I do wonder . . . many of my church members, including pastors, have blogs. Occasionally I browse them, and recently found that a couple of neat girls who I really like also have blogs, so I added them to my google reader. But I'm scared to comment on their blogs, to open the floodgates for my brothers and sisters from church to read this blog. Somewhat, I'm afraid of what they may think when they read these words. Which is silly, because with this church family, for the first time I've really embraced openness and honesty and light and rejected darkness and secrecy and fakery (it's a real word, even if google doesn't recognize it). This church knows me more intimately than any church ever has, and I rejoice in that. When someone asks, "How have you been?" I answer completely honestly. If it's been crappy, I tell them that, and if I say, "It's been really good." or "I've been doing well, lately," oh believe me, I mean it, and let's rejoice and celebrate that together. But that kind of intimacy is still kind of frightening, and it's tempting to hide a little now and then or to worry that I'm sharing too much.

But mainly, I'm afraid to expand my blog community to include my church community because I compare myself to their blogselves. So many of their blog posts focus on spiritual topics that it seems like they write about godly things all the time, so they must be thinking about God more than I am. And I write about roach spray and weddings and weird dates and cultural identity and applications and movies and bars and music. Things that seem so worldly, so not-glorifying to God. I'm afraid that if you compare our blogs, I won't look like a good Jesus-follower. I somewhat take pride in being a good Jesus-follower, because if I wasn't, I'd be a bad friend, a bad daughter, a bad sister, a bad girlfriend, not worthy to give advice and counsel, not worthy to be a wife. Gosh, these have got to be lies, but they feel so true sometimes. That's probably my biggest fear, that if you read this blog, my final mask would be torn down, and you would see me as someone who isn't completely devoted to God, at least, not in the way that you seem to be. As I write this, I know this is a lie, that none of us are worthy, all of us stray, but it's easy to think that I stray further than you do, that you are closer to the Father than me, that you love Him more or better. And I know that God is in these writings about weddings and dates and bars and applications, because God is big and complex and I shouldn't limit his involvement in only things that traditionally seem godly.

As I write out these honest fears, I feel close to making the leap to include you, my church, in this blog life of mine. And I feel like I can do that without changing the content of my blog, while still writing what I want to write. So, if I do take that step and you are reading this, know that I love you, you are welcome here, you are welcome into my life.

Disturbing thoughts sometimes come to me while cooking

2008-11-16T16:46:00.001-06:00

What if you mistook roach spray for no stick cooking spray?

Three Generations

2008-11-12T23:03:00.003-06:00

My grandmother married
In a stylish suit
A full-grown woman
Already modern, ahead of her time

My mother married
In long white lace
A teenage girl
Rushing forward, unknown to herself

I will marry
In ivory or white
A lady in between
Confident, but still much to learn

The White Devil, Part Deux

2008-11-12T22:34:00.003-06:00

I've really been investigating this the past few days - what cultures eat deviled eggs? White? Latino? Black? Asian-American? Southern? Northern?

I've started asking around, and here are the participants of my sample thus far, and their response to the question, "Have you had deviled eggs?" or "Do Latinos eat deviled eggs?"

Mexican-American Young Adult Female from Florida, "Yea, they're holiday food."
Black Young Adult Female from New Work, "Yes, definitely."
Latino Middle-Aged Male, "No, Latinos don't eat deviled eggs."
Girl with Latino dad and White mom, "I eat deviled eggs whenever I want to!"
Asian-American Young Adult Female, "Yes, definitely, doesn't everyone? . . . What, Edgar and Bea are actually kinda white - how have they not tried deviled eggs? They're like standard party food."
Every single white person I've asked, "Yes, of course!"

Not a great sample, but so far, 3 out of 4 Latinos don't eat deviled eggs. I need to find more black people to ask. Cara, get on that for me, and I'll edit this post. So far, I haven't found any geographic distinctions. I think that people from up north eat them too, unless they're Latino.

Also, last night at my church small group we were making a potluck dinner. The wife of the leadership team was making a taco salad, "or the white version of it," she qualified. When she started pouring Catalina dressing on the salad, several of my small group members had never heard of the dressing. I told her, "I use Catalina dressing whenever I eat Mexican food too!" Touching my shoulder she explained, "I think it's because you're white." Everyone laughed, and said stuff like, "Yeah, in case you didn't notice, you're white!" :: shakes head :: Silly white kids.