So I can’t remember what exactly I was conflicted about on November 11, but I’m sure it was angsty. I can only cling onto my teenage angst for another year. Being 19, my time to use that excuse is running out. What will I turn to in my twenties? I can’t use mid-life crisis because I’m banking on my twenties not being the middle of my life. If they were, that would mean I’d live till my forties, and that’s just too short. Then again, I’m not afraid to die. Death has lost its sting, if you know what I mean.
It’s kind of sweet to live under that reality, and when I say sweet, I mean it too. I’m not throwing that term out like so many generic, over-used adjectives. For example, “awesome”—I throw the word “awesome” around so frequently that I can only come to two conclusions. Either I am easily awe-inspired or I don’t use the word correctly. To be struck with awe is something that should be reserved for incredible things not common-place events….I’ll work on that.
Anyways it is Thanksgiving break, and I’m glad to be home. I have to be honest, though. I was not looking forward to this break. I didn’t want to come home. My last time here was difficult. Attending your grandfather’s funeral is not something you want to do. He was a great man, a quiet man, a gentle man, a loving man, a generous man, a wise man, but most of all he was my grandpa. I miss him.
Despite my misgivings, however, this break has been wonderful. Rarely have I been so encouraged. I’m discovering how much my family loves me. Not only do they love me, but they also respect me. I’ve had so many projects hanging over my head, that I’ve spent half my time this break huddled in a corner, clicking at a keyboard. They have given me the space and permission to do that. Thank you.
Now for some updates: I’ve started a writing and literature group at Wheaton. Yay! As of now we only have three members (me being one of them), but it is still fun. The two boys, Caleb and Jeremy, are full of ideas. Whenever our group meets, I get all excited and start talking faster. We just finished reading Stephen King’s book, On Writing, and are now working on writing short stories.
Side note: I talk faster and gesticulate more whenever I’m talking about English. I’m a nerd. Oh I also love editing. It is invigorating, and I’ve come to a point where people are giving me their stuff to peruse and edit. Their trust gives me hope that pursuing a career in English is not a vain hope.
That’s all for now. I need to be writing Anthropology paper. Peace.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
I'm conflicted.
That's all I have to say right now. I hope to expound on that soon, but right now I should go to bed, and my computer is about to die anyways.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Another thing about twitter
The first person I use in Twitter is not always me. Sometimes it's the voice of another character :)
Monday, October 27, 2008
Fall Break 08
For those of you who don't know, I went camping over fall break in Southern Indiana at Hoosier National Park. It was beautiful. I never knew Indiana had topography...
The first place we camped had a cave system running right underneath it. That's the mouth to the cave.
We had fun exploring.
I had fun trying to climb up tiny creavices.
Mmm. pretty
Oh and of course there was a lot of tasty camp food (I'm not being sarcastic either)
The first place we camped had a cave system running right underneath it. That's the mouth to the cave.
We had fun exploring.
I had fun trying to climb up tiny creavices.
Mmm. pretty
Oh and of course there was a lot of tasty camp food (I'm not being sarcastic either)
I'm exploring a new avenue of writing: Twitter. The idea is you are given 140 characters (Characters include letters, numbers, punctuation, and spaces). Within these boundaries you can write as much as you want. Twitter is a place to update people not only on how I'm doing, but also on what ever funny thought, sentence, or circumstance I've stumbled across. There is a link on the right side of my blog. Just in case you cannot find it here is another: still_striving
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Cruelty thou have no other name than....(fill in the blank with your own thought)
I'm posting in hopes that it will make me post more later. That sounds stupid, but somewhere in my head it makes sense...Anyways I thank God that it is Sunday, and it was splendid having Duffy come and visit. I hope more of my family will come (hint...hint). I have more thoughts to tell and secrets to divulge, but y'all will just have to wait because I'm cruel like that.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The passionate cry of an aspiring writer:
I hate adverbs. They are black mold. Once they take root, you cannot get rid of them. They breed and breed and breed until you writing things like “blindingly”. Shutter. Ugh. Gross. Adverbs are the bane of a writer’s career.
Reasons to use an adverb:
1. Your verb is weak.
2. You need the crutch.
3. Your dialogue is not good enough to communicate the bitterness, anger, joy, hesitancy behind the words. You have to clarify…John said bitterly, angrily, joyously, hesitantly.
They are awful, disease-ridden creatures. You are allowed a handful of adverbs to use in your life. Pick and choose with care. It is tempting to fall back on them. You might be able to convince yourself they sound pleasant, poetic. It’s a lie. You sound like an immature, weak writer. That being said, I’m as guilty as the next guy. I cringe when I think about the adverbs of my past. This is my hypocritical cry to rid the earth of these nasty little buggers. It is my new project. Give it a shot too. Try not writing with adverbs, and I think you’ll be surprised at how clean, fresh, and powerful your writing becomes. You do not need them. Believe me.
As Stephen King says in his book, On Writing, “The adverb is not your friend.”
Reasons to use an adverb:
1. Your verb is weak.
2. You need the crutch.
3. Your dialogue is not good enough to communicate the bitterness, anger, joy, hesitancy behind the words. You have to clarify…John said bitterly, angrily, joyously, hesitantly.
They are awful, disease-ridden creatures. You are allowed a handful of adverbs to use in your life. Pick and choose with care. It is tempting to fall back on them. You might be able to convince yourself they sound pleasant, poetic. It’s a lie. You sound like an immature, weak writer. That being said, I’m as guilty as the next guy. I cringe when I think about the adverbs of my past. This is my hypocritical cry to rid the earth of these nasty little buggers. It is my new project. Give it a shot too. Try not writing with adverbs, and I think you’ll be surprised at how clean, fresh, and powerful your writing becomes. You do not need them. Believe me.
As Stephen King says in his book, On Writing, “The adverb is not your friend.”
Saturday, October 11, 2008
On Apathy and Augustine
So I was told that you write the best stuff when you are in a semi-dream, sleep-deprived state. Here I am: sleep crouches at my door step and dreams are just within reach, but I’m writing instead. I write to confess, and here are some things I’ve been thinking about. I figure I might as well place them out there in cyberspace, or they won’t get said (or should I say written?).
First, I’ve been reading through Saint Augustine’s Foundations of Faith. It is a short, straight-forward, enlightening read that makes my head spin sometimes…always a good feeling. It is also causing me to examine my own faith and values; something I rarely do deliberately. This is easier said on the web than in person. My writing is a shield of sorts. I feel free with the written word, uninhibited. It is much easier to talk to a computer screen about what you’re struggling with than a person. A computer screen doesn’t react to your words.
Lately, I’ve been apathetic. I just don’t seem to care about much except that I’m not caring. It unnerves me. I’m someone who has rarely felt apathetic, so this is a bit of a new experience. I don’t like it, and I’m fighting it, but you don’t realize how hard apathy is to fight when you just don’t care. It’s a vicious cycle. At least I recognize it.
Back to Augustine. Several things that he has said have struck a chord. First he said God would not allow evil to remain in the world if good could not come from it. At first I thought that was the most stinky load of bull I’d heard in a while, but then I started chewing on it. (Ew, sorry for the gross mental image…chewing on bull).
This summer, I was faced with one camper in particular who struggled with the question: why does God allow suffering in the world? This camper’s sister was dying from infection. I had no response to her broken heart and tear stained face when she asked me, “Why is God killing my sister?” What do you say to a child when you see more pain etched into their ten-year old face than you’ve ever seen in the face of an adult? Watching a child in emotional agony shatters your heart. I saw her break before me, and I couldn’t put her back together. I held her on my lap and let her cry and I cried with her. I was not strong enough to hold either of us together, and I had no answers for her. Why would an all mighty, omnipotent God allow a child to go through this…allow evil in the world?
Now Augustine’s answer floats to the surface, “For the Omnipotent God, whom even the heathen acknowledge as the Supreme Power over all, would not allow any evil in his works, unless in his omnipotence and goodness, as the Supreme Good, he is able to bring forth good out of evil.”
Augustine’s words are still hard to digest, but they answer part of my question. Why does God allow evil in the world? Because He is able to bring forth good even out of what is corrupted. Take Joseph for example: sold into slavery by his brothers, thrown into jail, rose to second in power to the pharaoh, and saved his entire family from famine. What his brothers meant for evil, God intended for good. Crazy. It’s radical to think there is a God out there like that. On the flip side I still struggle with not being angry about the pain in the world, but I have a little hope now.
I have more stories about that camper, but I’ll save them for another post.
Another bit of wisdom from Augustine: “Every sin harms the one who commits it more than it does the one who suffers it.” Chew on that.
Finally to end this diatribe, I’ll painting a picture of how I see sin in my own life and what happens when I try to fix it. Think of this as a creative writing exercise.
I’ve been running, hiding from God. It really sucks when I realize what an idiot, IDIOT, I’ve been. God is so faithful to me, and I am so unfaithful to him. I don’t understand how I can be so stupid. My sin hangs on me like mud. My hands drip with blood, and I try to wipe it off, but what starts as a thin film on my palms soon is smeared up and down my arms. It’s thick. My skin burns with shame. I start to panic and fall to the ground, wiping my hands. They just end up covered in dirt. I rub harder and harder, dirt now sticking on my arms, on my clothes, covering me with my shame. Tears mix with blood and dirt, turning everything to sludge. I wipe my eyes, forgetting my filthy hands, spreading the mess across my face. I cough, cover my mouth, and choke on the stench that overwhelms me. Stale rust mixed with wet earth combines in a noxious mixture. Prostrate on the ground, hope dims. What will wash me clean?
Dramatic, isn’t it? There is sincerity in that though. I found the hope for the question above (What will wash me clean?) right after writing this.
Psalm 19:7, 11-14
The law of the LORD is perfect,
reviving the soul.
The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy,
making wise the simple.
…
By them is your servant warned;
in keeping them there is great reward.
Who can discern his errors?
Forgive my hidden faults.
Keep your servant also from willful sins;
may they not rule over me.
Then will I be blameless,
innocent of great transgression.
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
be pleasing in your sight,
O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.
This brings me to my next revelation. In verse seven it talks about the laws of the Lord reviving the soul. Another way to think about this is God’s commands set us free. It is weird to think that a law can be freeing. Aren’t we trained in our Western desire for freedom to think that entails lawlessness? On the contrary, it is when we are obeying God’s laws, that we will be most liberated because it is within those laws that we are most human. Following God’s commands will not screw your life up. It is as simple as that. That does not mean suffering does not come. My camper’s sister is still dying. It does mean, however, that by walking in his Way, we can be filled with a peace that surpasses all understanding.
That brings me to another story I saw reenacted countless times this summer as a counselor around camp fires. Children would stand before their peers and counselors, who were more like overgrown kids too, and share stories that were often hard to swallow. They would recount horrors from their lives. They would frequently end with something like, “I’m still don’t know why this happened, but God made me stronger through it and I feel closer to Him.” They could be crying, but they would say those words with a peace and assurance that left no room for doubt about their sincerity.
It still blows my mind.
To end this long strain of ponderings, here is where I’m at with my apathy. I want to want God again. Right now I’m dry, and it bothers me. My prayer and greatest comfort comes from Mark 9:24, Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.
First, I’ve been reading through Saint Augustine’s Foundations of Faith. It is a short, straight-forward, enlightening read that makes my head spin sometimes…always a good feeling. It is also causing me to examine my own faith and values; something I rarely do deliberately. This is easier said on the web than in person. My writing is a shield of sorts. I feel free with the written word, uninhibited. It is much easier to talk to a computer screen about what you’re struggling with than a person. A computer screen doesn’t react to your words.
Lately, I’ve been apathetic. I just don’t seem to care about much except that I’m not caring. It unnerves me. I’m someone who has rarely felt apathetic, so this is a bit of a new experience. I don’t like it, and I’m fighting it, but you don’t realize how hard apathy is to fight when you just don’t care. It’s a vicious cycle. At least I recognize it.
Back to Augustine. Several things that he has said have struck a chord. First he said God would not allow evil to remain in the world if good could not come from it. At first I thought that was the most stinky load of bull I’d heard in a while, but then I started chewing on it. (Ew, sorry for the gross mental image…chewing on bull).
This summer, I was faced with one camper in particular who struggled with the question: why does God allow suffering in the world? This camper’s sister was dying from infection. I had no response to her broken heart and tear stained face when she asked me, “Why is God killing my sister?” What do you say to a child when you see more pain etched into their ten-year old face than you’ve ever seen in the face of an adult? Watching a child in emotional agony shatters your heart. I saw her break before me, and I couldn’t put her back together. I held her on my lap and let her cry and I cried with her. I was not strong enough to hold either of us together, and I had no answers for her. Why would an all mighty, omnipotent God allow a child to go through this…allow evil in the world?
Now Augustine’s answer floats to the surface, “For the Omnipotent God, whom even the heathen acknowledge as the Supreme Power over all, would not allow any evil in his works, unless in his omnipotence and goodness, as the Supreme Good, he is able to bring forth good out of evil.”
Augustine’s words are still hard to digest, but they answer part of my question. Why does God allow evil in the world? Because He is able to bring forth good even out of what is corrupted. Take Joseph for example: sold into slavery by his brothers, thrown into jail, rose to second in power to the pharaoh, and saved his entire family from famine. What his brothers meant for evil, God intended for good. Crazy. It’s radical to think there is a God out there like that. On the flip side I still struggle with not being angry about the pain in the world, but I have a little hope now.
I have more stories about that camper, but I’ll save them for another post.
Another bit of wisdom from Augustine: “Every sin harms the one who commits it more than it does the one who suffers it.” Chew on that.
Finally to end this diatribe, I’ll painting a picture of how I see sin in my own life and what happens when I try to fix it. Think of this as a creative writing exercise.
I’ve been running, hiding from God. It really sucks when I realize what an idiot, IDIOT, I’ve been. God is so faithful to me, and I am so unfaithful to him. I don’t understand how I can be so stupid. My sin hangs on me like mud. My hands drip with blood, and I try to wipe it off, but what starts as a thin film on my palms soon is smeared up and down my arms. It’s thick. My skin burns with shame. I start to panic and fall to the ground, wiping my hands. They just end up covered in dirt. I rub harder and harder, dirt now sticking on my arms, on my clothes, covering me with my shame. Tears mix with blood and dirt, turning everything to sludge. I wipe my eyes, forgetting my filthy hands, spreading the mess across my face. I cough, cover my mouth, and choke on the stench that overwhelms me. Stale rust mixed with wet earth combines in a noxious mixture. Prostrate on the ground, hope dims. What will wash me clean?
Dramatic, isn’t it? There is sincerity in that though. I found the hope for the question above (What will wash me clean?) right after writing this.
Psalm 19:7, 11-14
The law of the LORD is perfect,
reviving the soul.
The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy,
making wise the simple.
…
By them is your servant warned;
in keeping them there is great reward.
Who can discern his errors?
Forgive my hidden faults.
Keep your servant also from willful sins;
may they not rule over me.
Then will I be blameless,
innocent of great transgression.
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
be pleasing in your sight,
O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.
This brings me to my next revelation. In verse seven it talks about the laws of the Lord reviving the soul. Another way to think about this is God’s commands set us free. It is weird to think that a law can be freeing. Aren’t we trained in our Western desire for freedom to think that entails lawlessness? On the contrary, it is when we are obeying God’s laws, that we will be most liberated because it is within those laws that we are most human. Following God’s commands will not screw your life up. It is as simple as that. That does not mean suffering does not come. My camper’s sister is still dying. It does mean, however, that by walking in his Way, we can be filled with a peace that surpasses all understanding.
That brings me to another story I saw reenacted countless times this summer as a counselor around camp fires. Children would stand before their peers and counselors, who were more like overgrown kids too, and share stories that were often hard to swallow. They would recount horrors from their lives. They would frequently end with something like, “I’m still don’t know why this happened, but God made me stronger through it and I feel closer to Him.” They could be crying, but they would say those words with a peace and assurance that left no room for doubt about their sincerity.
It still blows my mind.
To end this long strain of ponderings, here is where I’m at with my apathy. I want to want God again. Right now I’m dry, and it bothers me. My prayer and greatest comfort comes from Mark 9:24, Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
This one is for you, Loki...or you, Pan.
Hello again,
This morning I am frazzled. I was up till 2:30 sorting out my life. I have an 8:30 class which does not sound that early, but when you’re up till 2:30, waking up at 7:30 is a lot harder than you would think. On top of that, I hadn’t finished all my homework last night, so I set my alarm for 6, so I would have enough time to finish my assignments, take a shower, and have a quiet time.
At six O’clock my alarm went off. At 7:41 I actually woke up. Crap. There went my morning. I leapt from bed…well sort of. Leaping from bed would spell disaster since it is lofted at least a good seven feet in the air, so I clambered down from my bed. I threw open my laptop and finished my assignments. With no time for a shower, I threw my hair back into a ponytail with a bandanna.
I was clothed and had finished my assignments, but I sacrificed brushing my teeth and brewing coffee…horror of horrors. Grabbing English poems, scattered thoughts, and scraps of sanity, I flew to saga where I grabbed toast, a banana, and coffee. Shudder. (I stooped to drinking saga coffee with creamer, a double insult to my morning.)
I most always drink it black, but I had to mask the flavor. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I needed my caffeine fix, even if it came in the form of burnt coffee masked with non-dairy creamer. Ugh. On my way to class I tripped twice, almost losing my toast the first time and almost losing my coffee the next. Once in my seat, I spilt coffee all over me. By this point it was just funny. If I take anything away from this morning it’s this, maybe I shouldn’t sign up for 8:30 classes.
This morning I am frazzled. I was up till 2:30 sorting out my life. I have an 8:30 class which does not sound that early, but when you’re up till 2:30, waking up at 7:30 is a lot harder than you would think. On top of that, I hadn’t finished all my homework last night, so I set my alarm for 6, so I would have enough time to finish my assignments, take a shower, and have a quiet time.
At six O’clock my alarm went off. At 7:41 I actually woke up. Crap. There went my morning. I leapt from bed…well sort of. Leaping from bed would spell disaster since it is lofted at least a good seven feet in the air, so I clambered down from my bed. I threw open my laptop and finished my assignments. With no time for a shower, I threw my hair back into a ponytail with a bandanna.
I was clothed and had finished my assignments, but I sacrificed brushing my teeth and brewing coffee…horror of horrors. Grabbing English poems, scattered thoughts, and scraps of sanity, I flew to saga where I grabbed toast, a banana, and coffee. Shudder. (I stooped to drinking saga coffee with creamer, a double insult to my morning.)
I most always drink it black, but I had to mask the flavor. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I needed my caffeine fix, even if it came in the form of burnt coffee masked with non-dairy creamer. Ugh. On my way to class I tripped twice, almost losing my toast the first time and almost losing my coffee the next. Once in my seat, I spilt coffee all over me. By this point it was just funny. If I take anything away from this morning it’s this, maybe I shouldn’t sign up for 8:30 classes.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
So I went camping this past weekend. It was great! Jimmy, Matt, Eric, Karen, Leslie, and I headed out Saturday morning. We drove three hours West to the Mississippi Palisades where we hiked trails. Later we got down our canoes and started out on the Mississippi River. We eventually found an island, where we set up camp and ate hobo dinners. For those who don't know, a hobo dinner consists of potato, carrots, bell peppers, celery, raw onion, sausage, and cheese. The catch is that you chew up all your food and then spit it back out in the tin foil pouch. After half an hour of chew-and-spit, you rap everything up and place it in he fire. The saliva helps cook the food. It is arguably the tastiest meal you will ever have. YUM! Later that night we shared stories and struggles about life, school, and God. The conversation was rich. With ages raging from sophomore to grad student, everyone had their own perspective. It was sweet. Before going, I didn't know Karin or Leslie at all. By the end, I was amazed at the fellowship you can find in a stranger. It seems like we knew each other for a lot longer. We slept out under the stars, and woke up to fog that blanketed the whole island.
God is good.
Monday, September 22, 2008
A funny story...well, I thought it was funny
I was in Greek Class today, and the teacher had returned our quizzes. His TA, however, had misunderstood the grading rubric, and as a result had wrongly marked off points on several people's exams. (Sadly I was not one of the lucky deserve getting points back). But you can imagine the uproar those unjustly lost points caused among my fellow type-A classmates. Because of the mess up, Dr. Penney circulated the room, giving credit where credit was due.
After several minutes of corrections, He asked if anyone needed anything else. There was a pause, and I raised my hand. Frustrated that his TA had messed up again, he asked in an exasperated tone, "Yes, Meredith?" To which I replied, "Oh, nothing, I just wanting some points while you were giving them out." To which the class all broke out laughing, and Dr. Penney rolled his eyes. I might not be the sharpest marble in the box, but I thought it was worth a shot.
After several minutes of corrections, He asked if anyone needed anything else. There was a pause, and I raised my hand. Frustrated that his TA had messed up again, he asked in an exasperated tone, "Yes, Meredith?" To which I replied, "Oh, nothing, I just wanting some points while you were giving them out." To which the class all broke out laughing, and Dr. Penney rolled his eyes. I might not be the sharpest marble in the box, but I thought it was worth a shot.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Pillow Fight
This officially confirms how sweet my school is. On Wednesday, September 17th an epic pillow fight took place. There were approximately 80 people envolved. It was incredible. Public safety came by, but they ended up just watching the battle ensue. I think they enjoyed it as much as the rest of us. Needless to say, a new tradtion has been born.
I can't think of a better way to get out any feelings of frustration than beating your fellow classmates in the dark with pillows...stupendous
I can't think of a better way to get out any feelings of frustration than beating your fellow classmates in the dark with pillows...stupendous
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Saga Begins Again...
I find myself at college once again. I write this as if I’m surprised. Well, I am surprised. What happened in between May 9th and September 16? For those of you who haven’t heard the story and for those of you who have, here it is. I’ll try to write as much as I can about what I’ve done, what I’ve been through, and what I’m going through. This is going to be an update of epic proportions which might take several posts…oh boy, I’m already feeling overwhelmed, but I’m biting the bullet and clicking the keys. Here I go.
May 9th I finished my last exam. School was out, and I was headed home by the 11th. I spent the next week at home, trying to catch my breath before I plunged into the summer. I had signed up for Wheaton’s Student Leadership School (SLS). Before this, I had dabbled with the idea of going on an archaeological dig in Israel. After prayer and lots of thinking, I instead signed up to take classes for 5 weeks and counsel for 7 up in Three Lakes, Wisconsin. Looking back, it seems fantastic/unreal that I could have been on the other side of the globe frying like a steak in the dessert…I’m so glad I chose Wisconsin, no matter how exotic an ancient dig sounds. Nothing could top my experience this summer. I have never been so emotionally, spiritually, physically, and mentally drained while simultaneously feeling on fire about God, life, love, and everything in between.
I arrived at HoneyRock camp after a grueling 17 hour drive. Did you know it takes 7 hours to drive through Wisconsin, top to bottom? That state is outrageously long. Anyways, I arrived in a state of shock, that was not eased when I realized I only knew two people in the program: Robin and Nate. Robin had been with me the previous year when I did HoneyRock’s Wilderness Passage Program. She knows me inside and out. Nate, on the other hand, I barely knew. At one point in the summer, Nate came up to me and asked if I wanted to hang out. I said sure, and then he told me, “Deanna and Frappo said I should become better friends with you. That’s what I’m doing.” And so Nate and I became best friends. Since then he’s made me pinky promise that I’ll let him be my kids’ godfather…Nate, it might be awhile.
Going into the unknown like this was somewhat horrifying. When placed in a new situation, I normally shut down. I duck my head and cover. After assessing the new environment, I might resurface and begin the slow process of making friends. This time, however, I was determined to do it differently. The moment I arrived, I began to act out the biggest lie of my life. I pretended I was confident. Hahah. I was perpetually in fear, but no one knew. In fact, people were surprised when I told them I only knew Robin and Nate. Everyone assumed I knew the whole staff before coming. It is still the greatest farce I have ever pulled.
I am still not sure the exact moment when I stopped acting confident, and realized I actually was confident. This was a new, unsettling discovery. It was sort of cool. I had found confidence in being a daughter of the Creator of the Universe. Once I realized my place in this world as one of His children, the things of this world started to fade. As I gained confidence I also lost my fears. I forgot my irrational fear of fires, bugs, and swimming in murky water. I soon heard myself agreeing to go bridge jumping, white-water canoeing, and rock climbing at every opportunity I got. Somehow I even agreed to participate in a fifty-four mile canoe race. Sadly, it was canceled…maybe next year. I had discovered a passion to test myself physically and live life to its fullest potential.
Nevertheless my biggest discovery came when the campers arrived. I have always enjoyed working in nursery or helping my mom with art day camps, but I have never been involved in intense youth ministry before this summer. After a few days with the kids, however, I discovered another passion. I loved pouring myself into these little campers. The more I gave, the more they gave back. It was not me, however, that loved them. It was God loving them through me. I discovered that I had been wired to be a tool for God. I realized that if I walk with open eyes, open ears, and open hands, there is no limit to what God can do. He will willingly make, mold, and use me for His work.
Even with these discovers, I was still often blind and stubborn to what God would have me do. I’ll never forget a particular Saturday, when I broke. It had been a trying session. Like the rest of SLS staff, I was sick, and I had repeatedly failed to give my campers the 100% they deserved. I simply was not loving them or serving them to my fullest potential, and I was kicking myself for it. That Saturday I realized that I was failing because I was trying to love these girls by my own power. In my arrogance, I had pushed God aside and thought I could do it on my own. It was not until I let God back in that I was able to serve these kids.
I might be getting a bit preachy, but I’m not going to apologize. God is a big part of my life. I can’t help but talk about Him…This summer has so many snapshots that I want to talk about, but I’m going to have to finish in other posts. (My computer is about to die).
Oh and one more thing, I got my internet working! That means I’m back in the blog world. I’ve missed y’all.
May 9th I finished my last exam. School was out, and I was headed home by the 11th. I spent the next week at home, trying to catch my breath before I plunged into the summer. I had signed up for Wheaton’s Student Leadership School (SLS). Before this, I had dabbled with the idea of going on an archaeological dig in Israel. After prayer and lots of thinking, I instead signed up to take classes for 5 weeks and counsel for 7 up in Three Lakes, Wisconsin. Looking back, it seems fantastic/unreal that I could have been on the other side of the globe frying like a steak in the dessert…I’m so glad I chose Wisconsin, no matter how exotic an ancient dig sounds. Nothing could top my experience this summer. I have never been so emotionally, spiritually, physically, and mentally drained while simultaneously feeling on fire about God, life, love, and everything in between.
I arrived at HoneyRock camp after a grueling 17 hour drive. Did you know it takes 7 hours to drive through Wisconsin, top to bottom? That state is outrageously long. Anyways, I arrived in a state of shock, that was not eased when I realized I only knew two people in the program: Robin and Nate. Robin had been with me the previous year when I did HoneyRock’s Wilderness Passage Program. She knows me inside and out. Nate, on the other hand, I barely knew. At one point in the summer, Nate came up to me and asked if I wanted to hang out. I said sure, and then he told me, “Deanna and Frappo said I should become better friends with you. That’s what I’m doing.” And so Nate and I became best friends. Since then he’s made me pinky promise that I’ll let him be my kids’ godfather…Nate, it might be awhile.
Going into the unknown like this was somewhat horrifying. When placed in a new situation, I normally shut down. I duck my head and cover. After assessing the new environment, I might resurface and begin the slow process of making friends. This time, however, I was determined to do it differently. The moment I arrived, I began to act out the biggest lie of my life. I pretended I was confident. Hahah. I was perpetually in fear, but no one knew. In fact, people were surprised when I told them I only knew Robin and Nate. Everyone assumed I knew the whole staff before coming. It is still the greatest farce I have ever pulled.
I am still not sure the exact moment when I stopped acting confident, and realized I actually was confident. This was a new, unsettling discovery. It was sort of cool. I had found confidence in being a daughter of the Creator of the Universe. Once I realized my place in this world as one of His children, the things of this world started to fade. As I gained confidence I also lost my fears. I forgot my irrational fear of fires, bugs, and swimming in murky water. I soon heard myself agreeing to go bridge jumping, white-water canoeing, and rock climbing at every opportunity I got. Somehow I even agreed to participate in a fifty-four mile canoe race. Sadly, it was canceled…maybe next year. I had discovered a passion to test myself physically and live life to its fullest potential.
Nevertheless my biggest discovery came when the campers arrived. I have always enjoyed working in nursery or helping my mom with art day camps, but I have never been involved in intense youth ministry before this summer. After a few days with the kids, however, I discovered another passion. I loved pouring myself into these little campers. The more I gave, the more they gave back. It was not me, however, that loved them. It was God loving them through me. I discovered that I had been wired to be a tool for God. I realized that if I walk with open eyes, open ears, and open hands, there is no limit to what God can do. He will willingly make, mold, and use me for His work.
Even with these discovers, I was still often blind and stubborn to what God would have me do. I’ll never forget a particular Saturday, when I broke. It had been a trying session. Like the rest of SLS staff, I was sick, and I had repeatedly failed to give my campers the 100% they deserved. I simply was not loving them or serving them to my fullest potential, and I was kicking myself for it. That Saturday I realized that I was failing because I was trying to love these girls by my own power. In my arrogance, I had pushed God aside and thought I could do it on my own. It was not until I let God back in that I was able to serve these kids.
I might be getting a bit preachy, but I’m not going to apologize. God is a big part of my life. I can’t help but talk about Him…This summer has so many snapshots that I want to talk about, but I’m going to have to finish in other posts. (My computer is about to die).
Oh and one more thing, I got my internet working! That means I’m back in the blog world. I’ve missed y’all.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
HoneyRock
Hey everyone, I'm going to be pretty much unplugged from the outside world this summer, but I'll try to write if I can. HoneyRock is amazing. That word seems utterly inadequate to describe what's been going on, but suffice it to say, I think I'll have a few stories by the time I'm done :)
P.S. The rocks here do not taste sweet.
P.S. The rocks here do not taste sweet.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
A New Project
I like writing. Stories get in my head, and they bump around asking to be let out. Anyways, I've decided to give these bothersome thoughts an outlet. I have a new project. It consists of another blog. This blog wil be a new home to my musings, writings, etc. Some of the it might be good. The majority will be mediochre. A few things, maybe even most things, will be bad. Nevertheless, I'll feel restless until I do this, so enjoy:
musings, writings, anything that strikes my fancy
musings, writings, anything that strikes my fancy
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
I'm back with more ramblings.
I felt strangely connected to Virginia Woolf when we were discussing her in English 216 on Thursday. I say strangely because Virginia Woolf lived a life that I would never consider living. She was bisexual, crazy, and suicidal.
Nevertheless I felt connected to her because of the way she thought. Having many of her immediate family die, made Woolf retreat into the haven of her mind. She is well-known for her stream of conscience technique. She approached life as a spectator, not a participant. The life she lived was more like a script; she lived as if she saw everything through a lens. Every person, plant, animal, or situation she encountered offered a story or triggered a thought whether true or imagined. Woolf created fantasies for herself and then lived in them. She was truly a master of self deception.
The way she interpreted the things around her reminds me of the way I see things sometimes. My friends are always catching me as I space out. What they don’t always realize is that my blank stare is a mask for the stories swirling in my head. I can’t help but think about what is going on right underneath our noses.
Are the dead bugs in fluorescent lights really dead bugs? Is the buzzing of a street lamp late at night really simply an electrical current? Does that flickering light, have a short in it or is there a signal in the flashing? What if our lost socks were the result of a clumsy house hob? What if glue bottles, which fly inexplicably across the room, are the doings of a jealous ghost having a bad day? What if gremlins set off dorm fire alarms at 4:35 in the morning?
I can’t help but wonder about the World Behind the Curtain. How much does that world, bump into our world?
Have you ever had a thought pop into your head which you can’t explain? You could be in the middle of a deep conversation about disillusionment in Modernist writings when suddenly you find yourself thinking, “I was lying face down in the mud. That was the moment I realized I would never eat caramel popcorn again.”
How did those two sentences find their way into my head? Once there, they begin to bug me. It’s like a chigger bite; the bug has taken root, and now it itches like mad. I start to wonder where those sentences came from and what the story is behind them. What sort of story would bring about a character lying face down in the mud? And how on earth does that connect to caramel popcorn?
I end with this hope. At least I’m an English major with a writing concentration. English majors can afford to be a bit eccentric.
Nevertheless I felt connected to her because of the way she thought. Having many of her immediate family die, made Woolf retreat into the haven of her mind. She is well-known for her stream of conscience technique. She approached life as a spectator, not a participant. The life she lived was more like a script; she lived as if she saw everything through a lens. Every person, plant, animal, or situation she encountered offered a story or triggered a thought whether true or imagined. Woolf created fantasies for herself and then lived in them. She was truly a master of self deception.
The way she interpreted the things around her reminds me of the way I see things sometimes. My friends are always catching me as I space out. What they don’t always realize is that my blank stare is a mask for the stories swirling in my head. I can’t help but think about what is going on right underneath our noses.
Are the dead bugs in fluorescent lights really dead bugs? Is the buzzing of a street lamp late at night really simply an electrical current? Does that flickering light, have a short in it or is there a signal in the flashing? What if our lost socks were the result of a clumsy house hob? What if glue bottles, which fly inexplicably across the room, are the doings of a jealous ghost having a bad day? What if gremlins set off dorm fire alarms at 4:35 in the morning?
I can’t help but wonder about the World Behind the Curtain. How much does that world, bump into our world?
Have you ever had a thought pop into your head which you can’t explain? You could be in the middle of a deep conversation about disillusionment in Modernist writings when suddenly you find yourself thinking, “I was lying face down in the mud. That was the moment I realized I would never eat caramel popcorn again.”
How did those two sentences find their way into my head? Once there, they begin to bug me. It’s like a chigger bite; the bug has taken root, and now it itches like mad. I start to wonder where those sentences came from and what the story is behind them. What sort of story would bring about a character lying face down in the mud? And how on earth does that connect to caramel popcorn?
I end with this hope. At least I’m an English major with a writing concentration. English majors can afford to be a bit eccentric.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
coffee cup
One of Ryan's posts reminded me of a story. I was sitting in the cafeteria at breakfast. Deanna had gotten up to get some cereal, and while she was gone, I became intensely aware of how good my coffee was that morning. Before I knew what I was doing, I was singing "yum yum yum yum. yum yum yum yum," in a high pitched voice while staring intently at my cup. Then from the corner of my eye, I see someone skirting the table. I'm still singing, as I realized that they've stopped. I look up up, and a complete stranger is staring right at me. He doesn't say a word; he just turns around and walks out of the cafeteria. Needless to say, I now try to keep my coffee cup serenades within the confines of my room.
This is the title.
I've been conflicted about what to do this summer. I have the opportunity to go on an archaeological dig this summer to Ashkelon, Israel. I also could be a counselor at Honeyrock.
Reading the three sentences above, from an objective point of view, I would tell that person to go on an archaeology dig. After all, it seems much more adventuresome, but I'm not objective. I'm conflicted.
First off Ashkelon is getting bombed by Gaza. Secondly, I'm not sure if I want to major in Archaeology. In fact I've been thinking a lot about my future. What should I invest my time in? People tell me that I have time to decide, and that I have the next three and a half years ahead of me to enjoy college and seize different opportunities. The truth of the matter, however, is that time flies. It's gone before you know it. The flip side of the coin, however, is that if I look too much to the future then I forget to live in the present.
When you're cooking, your primary focus is on the front burners; what's boiling right then. You're not as worried about the back burners. If my future is the back burners then I have been way too focus on them, and the pots at the front are going to boil over soon.
I'm also questioning my motives behind going to Ashkelon. I have a sinking feeling that they are very selfish. So much of my life has been about trying to "better" myself through better education, better traveling, better experiences, better books, better teachers, etc. I'm starting to think that digging up pots that are thousands of years old is not the best use of my time. I might better serve as a counselor. What is more important than a human soul? This is not to say that I have any power to work great changes or influence people, but I might be better used at honeyrock. Then again, who am I to dictate to God how I think I would best be used. It's not my place. I'm called to walk in the center of His will; I'm just having trouble hearing what His will is. I'm afraid that I'm going to make a mistake.
Well, after that tirade, I have one last thing to say. How many people could sit at their computer desk fretting with the question: should I do an archaeological dig or be a counselor? Really, it's not that earth shattering of a question. I'm very blessed if this is the hardest choice that I have to make right now.
Reading the three sentences above, from an objective point of view, I would tell that person to go on an archaeology dig. After all, it seems much more adventuresome, but I'm not objective. I'm conflicted.
First off Ashkelon is getting bombed by Gaza. Secondly, I'm not sure if I want to major in Archaeology. In fact I've been thinking a lot about my future. What should I invest my time in? People tell me that I have time to decide, and that I have the next three and a half years ahead of me to enjoy college and seize different opportunities. The truth of the matter, however, is that time flies. It's gone before you know it. The flip side of the coin, however, is that if I look too much to the future then I forget to live in the present.
When you're cooking, your primary focus is on the front burners; what's boiling right then. You're not as worried about the back burners. If my future is the back burners then I have been way too focus on them, and the pots at the front are going to boil over soon.
I'm also questioning my motives behind going to Ashkelon. I have a sinking feeling that they are very selfish. So much of my life has been about trying to "better" myself through better education, better traveling, better experiences, better books, better teachers, etc. I'm starting to think that digging up pots that are thousands of years old is not the best use of my time. I might better serve as a counselor. What is more important than a human soul? This is not to say that I have any power to work great changes or influence people, but I might be better used at honeyrock. Then again, who am I to dictate to God how I think I would best be used. It's not my place. I'm called to walk in the center of His will; I'm just having trouble hearing what His will is. I'm afraid that I'm going to make a mistake.
Well, after that tirade, I have one last thing to say. How many people could sit at their computer desk fretting with the question: should I do an archaeological dig or be a counselor? Really, it's not that earth shattering of a question. I'm very blessed if this is the hardest choice that I have to make right now.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Honeyrock
Since I don't have time to write a decent blog, I'll take the easy way out and post pictures.
Here is part of my wilderness group. We traveled over ninety miles through the wild woods of Wisconsin and the UP.
The sweat, blisters, isolation, and tired legs were completely worth it.
I'm the one in the blue hat on the far right.
Here is part of my wilderness group. We traveled over ninety miles through the wild woods of Wisconsin and the UP.
The sweat, blisters, isolation, and tired legs were completely worth it.
I'm the one in the blue hat on the far right.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
leaves at chapel hill...i was feeling artistic
Now that I've figured out that it's easy to post pictures, there will be more to come.
Just to say.
I'm only posting to say that I have the day off tomorrow, so I hope to write a really good/entertaining post. Pray that I'm feeling thoughful when Tuesday rolls around :)
Let's kick the dog while it's down!
Yet again another bash on Mississippi. Click HERE. Once you've gotten to the site, click on the map on Mississippi. Scroll down the little information bubble where it talks about who the state is likely to vote for, and read the second-to-last statement. Is that really needed? And exactly how wealthy was Mississippi?
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
You know you're at wheaton when...
I was just looking at Ryan's blog about swapping communion bread recipes and it reminded me of something that happened today. I was walking toward the cafeteria when I suddenly burst out into "Thank God from whom all blessings flow..." And suddenly I thought: You know you're at Wheaton when you have the doxology stuck in your head :)
Monday, January 28, 2008
Here it is...the update that you have all been waiting for. I apologize before hand for its length. I'm also sorry this title is so long.
I’ve fallen behind in blogging…again. It’s funny how once you stop it’s hard to get into the swing of things again. But I have been reading other people’s blogs even if I haven’t written anything myself. Anyway, I’m not sure what to post, so I’ll give an update, and I’ll try to throw in a few “fun facts” I’ve discovered in the last month. So here it goes: I’ll start with a fact.
*Scientists are estimating that redheads will go extinct in as soon as 100 years. Yikes! That means me! I’m practically an endangered species, so I’ve been seriously considering writing the government and requesting some sort of pension or protection. People pour thousands upon thousands of dollars into saving endangered species such as ¬seahorses. Aren’t redheads important too?
Another thing I didn’t realize is that redheads only make up about 2% of the world’s population. That makes sense if you consider that there are over a billion Chinese aand over a billion Indians. Nevertheless, I thought there were more redheads out there than that. Well, I should say that I thought there were more natural redheads out there than that. Thanks to Loreal and Herbal Essence, we can sleep easy, knowing that even if the redhead gene dies, Hair dye will live on.
There is fun fact number one. Now, I’ll fill y’all in on some of the mischief I’ve gotten myself into since Christmas.
On December 27th, I got my four wisdom teeth extracted. Overall it was a very painless (and dare-I-say-fun) experience. The pain killers did start to mess with my head a little. Most likely my combination of prescription pain killers and Unisom was not a wise choice, but it did knock me out cold. Besides getting my wisdom teeth removed, my break was fairly uneventful. I had some quality daddy-daughter moments at the movies and tromping around Brandon. It was also fun to cook with mom. In fact, I was surprised how easily I fell back into step with my regular routine. Every morning I would fix myself oatmeal and work the puzzles in the newspaper after reading Apartment 3-G. (There’s an embarrassing confession, but I’m going to own up to it. I read apartment 3-G. There. I said it! It’s all out in the open now…) It is one of those guilty pleasures in life. One that, deep down, you know are pointless and lowering your IQ, but you turn to them anyway.
It’s kind of like coffee. Coffee is a bad taste that you get addicted to. If I think about it, I realize that it isn’t very good, and yet I still love it. In fact, I’m a bit dependent on it. Not only do I notice when I haven’t had my morning cup-of-joy, but my friends notice too. If I seem out of it, they automatically ask, “Have you had your coffee?” If I say no, they sigh and say, “Should we go get you a cup?” I think psychiatrists refer to them as enablers. Anywho, I also want dad to note that I’m now drinking my coffee black. Strong and black, and I like it so much more. I had gotten in the habit of adding a bit of cream because the coffee offered at Wheaton is so awful that I was desperate to mask the flavor. Now that I’ve gotten some travel mugs, I don’t have to worry about buying coffee. I can brew it in my room and have it to-go. It really is a pleasure. Ahhh. Now I want a cup, but it’s after five, and it will keep me up. Well, it doesn’t keep you up , but it doesn’t let your brain shut down when you finally get to sleep.
Speaking of simple pleasures, I’ve also gotten into the habit of using a fountain pen. Daniel is the one who converted me, and now I don’t know if I could go back to using ball point. I’m not sure whether to thank Daniel or be miffed at him. Most likely I’ll choose the former because fountain pens are a pleasure to write with. I’m working on converting those around me to using them. I think I already made good head-way with my geology teacher, who happened to see my pen case on the table and asked out of curiosity what it was. I then showed him my fountain pen and let him write with it. He seemed impressed. Bruhahahah. Little does he know that I have introduced him into an expensive hobby that can cost you hundreds of dollars!
Oh, that reminds me. I haven’t said what classes I’m taking yet. Right now, I’m enrolled in Geology, Greek, British Literature from the 17th to 20th Century, and the History of Music. So far, I’m loving all of them. I’d like to take this moment to say, I love being at a liberal arts school. I think I was born for the aristocracy of the Renaissance. Not only would I have fit in better with my pale skin, but I would have loved to spend my days pouring myself into music, art, language, and the classics. Ah well, I guess I’ll just have to settle for Wheaton if I can’t have 16th century Italy.
Speaking of Italy, I’m seriously considering, Wheaton’s Summer in England program for next year. The courses they offer include Creative Writing, Travel Writing, Shakespeare, and Theatre. I have this unnerving feeling that I might be leaning towards a classics/literature major. AAHHH. But the problem is I can’t get a job with that. Ugh. If only someone would pay me to critique books, write books, and read books all day long. I need to get my head out of the clouds, but I do love gallivanting about with Dumas, Donne, and Dante.
Actually I’ve never read any Dante, but it was another author whose name ended with “D.” Now that I think about it, I’m appalled that I’ve never read Dante. What have I been doing these past 18 years? Probably reading more fairytales than I have any business doing. Although I’ll will give myself some credit. At least I was reading Grimm and Anderson. None of this frilly Disney junk that always demands a happy ending. Give me some tragedy with a bit of irony thrown in and I’m happy! Ah, Oedipus.
Sorry, I’ve started to ramble, and I just realized this post is ridiculously long, and I haven’t even mentioned my trip to Michigan or my exciting stolen wallet episode or my new aspirations to be a camp counselor or my tiramisu baking extravaganza! Boy, am I behind….
More to come soon! (I hope).
*Scientists are estimating that redheads will go extinct in as soon as 100 years. Yikes! That means me! I’m practically an endangered species, so I’ve been seriously considering writing the government and requesting some sort of pension or protection. People pour thousands upon thousands of dollars into saving endangered species such as ¬seahorses. Aren’t redheads important too?
Another thing I didn’t realize is that redheads only make up about 2% of the world’s population. That makes sense if you consider that there are over a billion Chinese aand over a billion Indians. Nevertheless, I thought there were more redheads out there than that. Well, I should say that I thought there were more natural redheads out there than that. Thanks to Loreal and Herbal Essence, we can sleep easy, knowing that even if the redhead gene dies, Hair dye will live on.
There is fun fact number one. Now, I’ll fill y’all in on some of the mischief I’ve gotten myself into since Christmas.
On December 27th, I got my four wisdom teeth extracted. Overall it was a very painless (and dare-I-say-fun) experience. The pain killers did start to mess with my head a little. Most likely my combination of prescription pain killers and Unisom was not a wise choice, but it did knock me out cold. Besides getting my wisdom teeth removed, my break was fairly uneventful. I had some quality daddy-daughter moments at the movies and tromping around Brandon. It was also fun to cook with mom. In fact, I was surprised how easily I fell back into step with my regular routine. Every morning I would fix myself oatmeal and work the puzzles in the newspaper after reading Apartment 3-G. (There’s an embarrassing confession, but I’m going to own up to it. I read apartment 3-G. There. I said it! It’s all out in the open now…) It is one of those guilty pleasures in life. One that, deep down, you know are pointless and lowering your IQ, but you turn to them anyway.
It’s kind of like coffee. Coffee is a bad taste that you get addicted to. If I think about it, I realize that it isn’t very good, and yet I still love it. In fact, I’m a bit dependent on it. Not only do I notice when I haven’t had my morning cup-of-joy, but my friends notice too. If I seem out of it, they automatically ask, “Have you had your coffee?” If I say no, they sigh and say, “Should we go get you a cup?” I think psychiatrists refer to them as enablers. Anywho, I also want dad to note that I’m now drinking my coffee black. Strong and black, and I like it so much more. I had gotten in the habit of adding a bit of cream because the coffee offered at Wheaton is so awful that I was desperate to mask the flavor. Now that I’ve gotten some travel mugs, I don’t have to worry about buying coffee. I can brew it in my room and have it to-go. It really is a pleasure. Ahhh. Now I want a cup, but it’s after five, and it will keep me up. Well, it doesn’t keep you up , but it doesn’t let your brain shut down when you finally get to sleep.
Speaking of simple pleasures, I’ve also gotten into the habit of using a fountain pen. Daniel is the one who converted me, and now I don’t know if I could go back to using ball point. I’m not sure whether to thank Daniel or be miffed at him. Most likely I’ll choose the former because fountain pens are a pleasure to write with. I’m working on converting those around me to using them. I think I already made good head-way with my geology teacher, who happened to see my pen case on the table and asked out of curiosity what it was. I then showed him my fountain pen and let him write with it. He seemed impressed. Bruhahahah. Little does he know that I have introduced him into an expensive hobby that can cost you hundreds of dollars!
Oh, that reminds me. I haven’t said what classes I’m taking yet. Right now, I’m enrolled in Geology, Greek, British Literature from the 17th to 20th Century, and the History of Music. So far, I’m loving all of them. I’d like to take this moment to say, I love being at a liberal arts school. I think I was born for the aristocracy of the Renaissance. Not only would I have fit in better with my pale skin, but I would have loved to spend my days pouring myself into music, art, language, and the classics. Ah well, I guess I’ll just have to settle for Wheaton if I can’t have 16th century Italy.
Speaking of Italy, I’m seriously considering, Wheaton’s Summer in England program for next year. The courses they offer include Creative Writing, Travel Writing, Shakespeare, and Theatre. I have this unnerving feeling that I might be leaning towards a classics/literature major. AAHHH. But the problem is I can’t get a job with that. Ugh. If only someone would pay me to critique books, write books, and read books all day long. I need to get my head out of the clouds, but I do love gallivanting about with Dumas, Donne, and Dante.
Actually I’ve never read any Dante, but it was another author whose name ended with “D.” Now that I think about it, I’m appalled that I’ve never read Dante. What have I been doing these past 18 years? Probably reading more fairytales than I have any business doing. Although I’ll will give myself some credit. At least I was reading Grimm and Anderson. None of this frilly Disney junk that always demands a happy ending. Give me some tragedy with a bit of irony thrown in and I’m happy! Ah, Oedipus.
Sorry, I’ve started to ramble, and I just realized this post is ridiculously long, and I haven’t even mentioned my trip to Michigan or my exciting stolen wallet episode or my new aspirations to be a camp counselor or my tiramisu baking extravaganza! Boy, am I behind….
More to come soon! (I hope).
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