Seven Days of Winter...

...and counting.



"Somtimes I think I'm bigger than the sound." --Yeah Yeah Yeahs "Cheated Hearts"

Sometimes I think I'm bigger than the world, but that's a lie. I'm smaller than I know.

Breakfast Table Banter

In an admirable yet failed effort to reference this skit starring Andy Samburg, my mom proudly proclaimed, "Birthday cake...on the floor." Much laughter ensued.


Then, as usual the conversation ventured to Blankenship adventures past.

Me: Remember that time we went blackberry picking on that huge farm. That was so much fun!"

My brother: Yeah, I liked gettin' stuck by briars and chased by bees.


Ahh, family. :)

I Found The Most Amazing Chirstmas Card...Ever!

Cats, and ridiculous humor. Definite win.

Pet Peeve

Dear Readers,

Allow me to introduce you to the...subjunctive mood.

Here's the best technical definition I could find online: A verb is in the subjunctive mood when it expresses a condition which is doubtful or not factual. It is most often found in a clause beginning with the word "if." It is also found in clauses following a verb that expresses a doubt, a wish, regret, request, demand, or proposal.

So, if you were to use the word "if," please remember to change your verb. Many a lyric and status update committ crimes against the subjunctive mood. I encourage you to separate yourself from that majority.


Here's a few examples:

Incorrect: If I was to particpate in any sport, it would be pole vaulting.
Correct: If I were to participate in any sport, it would be pole vaulting.

Incorrect: She wishes she was somewhere else.
Correct: She wishes she were somewhere else.

If I were you, I'd take these offenses very seriously.

Words of Wendell

Read and enjoy :)


The Thought of Something Else

1.
A spring wind blowing
the smell of the ground
through the intersections of traffic,
the mind turns, seeks a new
nativity--another place,
simpler, less weighted
by what has already been.

Another place!
it's enough to grieve me--
that old dream of going,
of becoming a better man
just by getting up and going
to a better place.

2.
The mystery. The old
unaccountable unfolding.
The iron trees in the park
suddenly remember forests.
It becomes possible to think of going.

3.
--a place where thought
can take its shape
as quietly in the mind
as water in a pitcher,
or a man can be
safely without thought
--see the day begin
and lean back,
a simple wakefulness filling
perfectly
the spaces among the leaves.

--Wendell Berry

I'm frustrated by poetry much of the time. Often the writers seem to be skillfully crafting an elegant riddle. Sometimes I want to scream, "Say what you mean and cut all the lyrical hogwash!" But, for the most part, I usually understand Mr. Berry.

I want to be a writer, but not just any writer--a good writer. But that takes lots of practice, and I'm lazy.

Inanimate Retellings

A four-layer jam cake gone horribly wrong, but we laughed...a lot and that made everything okay. Then, baking with Becky and talking about sorrow and Christmasy things.












And...lots and lots of light. There's a span of time in the early morning when the sun bursts through the high rectangle window in our bathroom, and the whole space glows.

Thank You...

1. New Moon for using amazing artists for your Soundtrack.

2. Bon Iver for contiually breaking my heart with beautiful music including "Roslyn" from the New Moon Soundtrack.

3. Lousiville for capturing my heart. I've missed you these past three days, which means something very important--you've officially become my home.

4. Aunt Waynette for sweet potato casserole.

5. Mom and Dad for giving me the good sense to be semi-wise with my money. I was watching "Say Yes to the Dress" and these women are spending on average 5-8 dollars on wedding gowns. Seriously?

6. God that I don't work retail anymore.

7. C.S. Lewis for being so baller. I'm trying to pick up all the books I never finished in my Lewis class two years ago. Till We Have Faces is incredible.

These Things I Remember

I dreamed of company with ballerinas, painters, astronauts, and pilots, but never of friends. And never of God. But how beautiful the future seems with these dear companions. How bright and hopeful the world appears with truth at the threshold.

"Enough"--what a peculiar word. Not something that can be measured.




I've been sulking in self-pity all day. It's really, very unnecessary.


If you're a Twilight fan, New Moon won't disappoint. I saw it today, and was impressed. It was definitely an improvement from the last film.

"It is not possible to be 'incidentally a Christian'. The fact of Christianity must be overwhelmingly first or nothing. This suggests a reason for the dislike of Christians by nominal or non-Christians: their lives contain no overwhelming firsts buy many balances."

--Sheldon Vanauken, A Severe Mercy

A Short Tail

After our first mouse sighting almost a week ago, I distincly remember reasurring my dear roommate Patty with these soothing words: "The last thing you need to be worried about is that mouse trying to get in your bed. He's only scavenging for food and things for his nest."

Last night, 5:28am

One moment I was sleeping soundly, then suddenly I possessed a vague awareness that some thing--some weighty presence--was scampering over the top of my shoulder and down my chest. I threw my blankets off in a mad rush, flipped on my lamp, and stood for several breathless minutes staring at my bead. Did what I think just happened, actually happen? Then! Suddenly, I saw the scarves draped over the end of my bed rustle from the top of my matress down to the floor. That was proof enough. I had definitely just shared my bed with a rodent! I cautiously and expediently grabbed my pillow and ran to Patty's room where we both attempted to share her twin sized bed for the rest of the night. At least if the mouse ventured into her room, we'd be able to fight him together.

That dirty rascallion.

I would so wear this sweater:

Fact and Fiction

Some pictures I took.

All things fall into light and by "fall" I mean, "forced." All things will bow at your feet.

She hid a letter for him under the stairs, but he didn't know. He didn't know.

She hid secrets under her skin, but no one knew. No one knew.

I saw the skyline illuminated in sunlight and thought of sovereignty.

Foolishness--the worst feeling, or is that loneliness?

Stickerbush in the green, green grass.

Your hair will sprout grey roots and my hands will grow tired of grabbing. The bend and break, the push and pull, and you at the center. The Crescendo, the Decrescendo, the staccoto, the climax and the fall. Quitely, you sang to me.

"Pour out your heart like water before the presence of the Lord." --Lamentations 2:19

These things will explode like fireworks in the summer buzz of my mind if I don't ignite them with the spark of ink.

A new band in my life: Spirits of the Red City.

And, if only I had an occasion: :)

Informality

"I know the silver ready of takeoff and the

unearned divinity of cruising altitude.  I know, too

the melancholy rush of final approach, of

returning, as we must, to earth.  I know 

the allure of always going somewhere else...

"I know girls who love their bodies, who let their hips draw commas in the air before them, paving the way.  I know women who used to, whose hands and teeth and shoes are asking always:  how do I get back there...

"I know the words--the yes and the sorry and gone--that stand in for other things we can't say.  The constellation of freckles on my left arm I am waiting for someone to read me like tarot.  I know the aftermath of want."

--Kate Petersen, "To All Those Who Say Write What You Know"

This was a lyrical essay I read last semester and it's haunted my thoughts for months.  I found a copy of the piece tonight stowed away under my bed in a box full of school folders.  

I miss the intellectual atmosphere of the university, the creative atmosphere of my writing classes.  You can find the full text on the cool non-fiction site called Brevity.  The publication is entirely online and only accepts non-fiction pieces of 750 words of less.  

I also found a copy of another essay I enjoyed by Nancy Mairs titled "On Having Adventures."

I want a copy of Evangeline Patterson's poems.  

I had, what I consider, a nightmare last night.  There was a group of false prophets that picked people at random and somehow forced individuals into conversion.  I dreamed they were spreading lies to my family about God and I kept trying to tell them the truth about Jesus and I didn't think anyone was listening.  They were especially targeting/going after my brother.  Brittany and I watched a documentary on Jonestown recently and I worry about my brother a lot.  Maybe this dream was a combination of those things.

A Severe Mercy

A Severe Mercy is making a severe impression on me.  It might be one of my favorite books ever. 

The narrator writes these lines after making a choice to accept Jesus as Lord and Savior:

"Between the probable and proved there yawns

A gap.  Afraid to jump, we stand absurd, 

Then we see behind us sink the ground and, worse,

Our very standpoint crumbling.  Desperate dawns

Our only hope:  to leap into the Word

That opens up the shuttered universe." 

Ahhhh......so good.

the religion of love and other matters.

the religion of love:

Florence + The Machine has nabbed a top-notch spot on my current listening list. The beat and climax of songs like "Dog Days are Over" and "Cosmic Love," leave my pointer finger forever stranded on the repeat button. Despite my obsession, I can't help but notice Flo's tendency to voice convictions that establish romantic relationships as gods. In "Cosmic Love" it appears the universe has collapsed along with Flo's broken heart when she sings, "The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out/You left me in the dark/No dawn, no day. I'm always in this twilight/In the shadow of your heart..." Other songs seem to suggest that someone is falling at the feet of a lover.

Flo is putting her faith into what I call a religion of love. This isn't a new idea. Sheldon Vanauken in his book, A Severe Mercy, confesses that the love he shared with Davy was of astronomical importance...religious importance. They made a god of the deep love they shared. A poem they compiled together states: We build our alter, then, to love and keep/The holy flame alight and never sleep:/This darling love shall deepen year by year,/And dearer shall we grow who are so dear." Although I'm not there yet, plotwise, I know a rock is thrown into Sheldon's deep well of conviction when he hears the truth of the Gospel . Sheldon even hints at the fact that there is something that fails in love alone, when he states, "It must be that, whatever its promise, love does not by itself endure. But why? What was the failure behind the failure of love?"

Hemingway does this too in The Sun Also Rises. Love becomes a goddess.

I believe human love is weak and never strong enough to survive on its own. Even if it lasts a lifetime, death will eventually claim both lovers. Sheldon admits:

"... the Shining Barrier, [a symbol of his love with Davy] however invulnerable to the separating forces of life, was not invulnerable to death."


Scripture also reminds us:

"For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ."

When we build our houses on foundations of human affection, they will undoubtedly fail us and crumble at our feet.



Other matters:

The presentation at WKU on Friday went very well. I encouraged the listeners to see inmates, communities and the people around us in light of what they can be, and outside the shadow of their pasts and mistakes. I think this is the beautiful nature of the Gospel. Humans have hope through Christ and the reconciliation he provides on the cross. We don't live as slaves to our bad decisions. I also spoke about the the injustice that was occurring in regards to gender discrimination in the jail facility. Surprisingly, after my presentation a woman approached me and offered to help solve some of these issues through her connections to the jail. Awesome.

Also being in Bowling Green made me miss 91.7, the Revolution. Best radio station ever.

I love biking. I took my bike and camera out today on an adventure and it was wonderful. :)

I have a new favorite blog:

http://www.peoniesandpolaroids.com/

Also, I want a yellow cat with fluffy, epic fur. This one would do:

A group of friends and I traveled to Columbus, Ohio a few days ago. Road trips always poignantly remind me of the great big earth and my small, short life. The contrast is overwhelming.

As a teenager, I was convinced that being Amelia Earhart would suit me just fine.

The glamour of flying away in a red plane over clouds and oceans around the world was something to be deeply envied. I imagined myself wearing yellow goggles and a brown flyer jacket in the small pit of tiny aircraft.

Of course, I didn't really like the idea of disappearing altogether, but the exploring part, that seemed magical.


At age twenty-three, I'm haunted by travles not taken and places unseen.



"The sky is flesh. The great blue belly arches up above the water and bends down behind the line of the horizon. It's a sight that has exhausted its magnificence for me over the years, but now I seem to be seeing it for the first time."
--Jane Mendelsohn, I Was Amelia Earhart

On "inloveness"

"But when the 'real thing' happens, there is no doubt. A man in the jungle at night, someone said, may suppose a hyena's growl to be a lion's; but when he hears the lion's growl, he knows damn' well it's a lion."

--Sheldon Vanauken, A Severe Mercy


I like this book.

Babble

Real life conversation with the female dean of my college during a meeting before graduation:

She looks over my transcript and asks, "Oh, so you're a religious studies minor?"

"Yes," I say.

"What do you plan on doing with that?"

"Might go to Seminary."

She scans the details of the past five years of my college career. "Life of Paul. Don't you just hate Paul?"

I gulped and stared.

I wanted to tell her everything that I had learned in my Life of Paul class. How he didn't hate women and how he wouldn't hate her and how Jesus loves us all even if we are females. I wanted to tell her "sorry" for all the men that had said she couldn't do it, for all the men that told her she was stupid or not smart enough just because she wasn't born with a Y chromosone. I know how it feels and it sucks and it cuts deep, but that's not what Jesus meant. And that's not what Paul meant. But I couldn't say any of those things because I'm a coward and I struggle to believe it sometimes too.

For seven months I led a Jail Book Program in Bowling Green called "Books Behind Bars." The experience changed my life and the Women's Studies program has requested that I speak at a Genderations event on October 16th at Western Kentucky University. I'll be returning as an alumnus (that word is odd) and I think I might pee my pants. I'm scared. Not really because I'll be talking in front of people. That doesn't bother me much, but more because the people that I'll be talking to are hard core feminists. I'm supposed to talk about gender inequalities and how to resolve those issues. Ahhhhh! As a Christian, gender, and the roles that come with being a Christian woman have been one of the biggest areas of pride and confusion in my life...ever.

More than anything, I know that God has provided this opportunity to share his gospel. Why is that so intimidating? What am I scared of? I'm scared of not having answers for those women who are angry, hurt, and pretty much pissed off at a doctrine that says women are in any way under men. How do I say that's okay?

I guess I don't. I mean, I struggle with it too. Not to mention the historical boundaries that we're met with in the Bible. I think that I forget that I don't have to dive into all of that. Grace come first. I believe the Bible, so I believe that men and women are different. That's a huge difference between myself and the people that will probably be listening to me talk.

I think I keep forgetting that the biggest and most important difference is Jesus, and He, Thank God, covers all the gaps. I don't have to.

Please don't get me wrong, this presentation, won't even touch the surface of half the stuff I'm venting about here. But I will be talking about literature and how some of the books I used in the club addressed conflicts between gender and religion. I'll also be talking about a book that preaches the reconciliation that comes through Christ. (I don't even think the Women's Studies Program realized that I was bringing texts like that into the jail.) Just stressed. And for no reason. If I believe gospel, then I believe God is on my side. I don't answer to anyone but Him.

This is simply my mental digression.

Please pray that I'm loyal to God's calling in this situation and not my own fear.

"Bored" Games (Bahahahah)

Scrabble game gone found poetry.

queens
whores
vixens
bias
flume
haze
quiets
bag
vote
xi
rats
in
mini
teem

Teeming mini-rats with a hazy bias, vote in fourteen (xi) vixens and whore bags as queens of the quiet flume.

Words and Color

Crisp air. Cardigans. Scarves. Apple cider. Campfires. These are the treasures of fall...:)

And let us not forget good books. But those are for all seasons, eh? I'm currently reading A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken, a friend of C.S. Lewis. Read this tonight:

"And of course beauty: the beauty that was for him the link between the ships and the woods and the poems. He remembered as though it were but a few days ago that winter night, himself too young to know the meaning of beauty, when he had looked up at a delicate tracery of bare black branches against the icy glittering stars: suddenly something that was, all at once, pain and longing and adoring had welled up in him, almost choking him. He had wanted to tell someone, but he had no words, inarticulate in the pain and glory. It was long afterwards the he realised that it had been his first aesthetic experience. That nameless something that had stopped his heart was Beauty. Even now, for him, 'bare branches against the stars' was a synonym for beauty."



Pain and glory--a fitting paradox for the definition of beauty, I believe.

I'm ready for the pain and glory of dying leaves! Took this picture last fall by purposely turning the lens out of focus. Lovely.

Pylvia Slath

Sylvia Plath makes me sick. She was writing more eloquently at age eighteen than I'll be writing at age fifty.

Example: "Words revolve in flame and keep the coliseum heart afire, reflecting orange sunken suns in the secret petals of ruined arches."

But, I do not envy her.

Thankfully, unlike Sylvia, I do not put my hope in words, but rather the substance of Christ who's light can ignite even the darkest human heart.



The quote below came from a collection of her journal entries and letters. I've read through some of them before, but the following always strikes me as ironic:

"With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand...hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. the high moment, the burning flash come and gone, continuous quicksand. And I don't want to die."

Ten years later, Sylvia killed herself by sticking her head in a gas oven.

God, I praise you for giving me hope in the future despite my dying body and a dying world.

Reminds me of the memory verse for The Women's class this week:

"Of old you laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you endure; they will all wear out like a garment. You change them like raiment, and they pass away; but you are the same, and your years have no end." Psalm 102: 25-27

Dashboard Inspiration

Running fast--wolves at my heels.
Teeth bared, bellies of bottomless appetite chasing
the hem of my dress.
Who was to think I could hide from them?
Who was I to think I could hide from You?
Tempted by the forest's edge
I crossed the timbered line.
Trees grew taller and speckled light dissolved.
Muscles weak, skin bruised, body weak,
running circles around
your mercy
your grace.
But in the center of darkness
and defeat
You called my name.
You opened the door to a fortress of stone.
You fed me, cleaned me, wrapped me in warm robes.
I fell at Your feet.
Told me I'd be safe forever.
You saved me.
Jesus, you saved me.


Waiting a red on red light downtown yesterday, I saw one of The Queue customes cross the street in front of me. The car waiting for him to reach the other side turned so very close to his feet. Instantly I thought of the way the world chases us with bared teeth and outstretched claws. Thankfully, this world is not our home. :)

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. He who is the hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father, and I lay down my life for the sheep." Jesus, as recorded in the book of John 10:10-15.



The Women's Theology Class met again this morning. The meetings have been an enormous blessing so far. I've been consistently humbled by the confessions and insights of other women and I know God is working on my heart.

Picked up John Piper's Don't Wast Your Life a few days ago and was struck by this: "Some of you will die in the service of Christ. That will not be a tragedy. Treasuring life above Christ is tragedy."

Oh God, I pray my life is not a waste.

Here, There, and Everywhere

I am perpetually discontent (B. Anne just slammed me in the back and yelled, "You were content today!" because she thought I was referencing life. Let me finish my sentence woman.) with my background color. That dark blue had to go. This purple is rather nice, I think. It might stick around for awhile.

I was content today. The roomies and I walked to Central Park-- lunches and radio in hand. We had such a beautiful time. B. drew. Patty read. Erin danced. I slept and wrote in my journal. I relish time spent with my precious friends and sisters.

Thoughts I copied down:

"Fell asleep in your cobwebs."

Sinking. You threw me into the sea like an anchor and I'm sinking fast and furiously into the depths. Deep. Deep. (Last night I fell in love with a polaroid art exhibit. The artist referenced a sinking feeling she felt when she first woke up in the mornings. It was comforting to know I wasn't the only one.)

interests: stories
Pictures are the stories we tell when we're too afraid to voice them out loud.

Plaid table cloth and towels on the moist ground. Things fall from overhead. Squirrels gather around. We're they're entertainment. The air is light and effortless. The sun is merciful, and were shaded under ancient trees and branches. The grass is itching with activity.



I've tried to be more focused while writing these entries because my mind is always going in a million different directions and most of the time these posts lack cohesion, but I say, "Screw it!" It's my blog and I'll say what I want, when I want, and how it comes to me. There. That's always been my struggle with writing, but I'm tired of feeling guilty about it. I'm tired of living in fear of who I am, if that makes any sense. I have all these ideas at once and I never just focus in on one thing. I jump here and there and over and over and back and forth, but it's okay.

I went to the first meeting for a Women's Theology Class this morning and it was wonderful. I love talking about the Bible and God and meeting new faces.

And some pictures: :)

Repeat, repeat, repeat

Vandaveer performed at the 930 tonight. Sooooooo goood. I can't get this song out of my head.

I used a hyperlink. :) Shoot. Cake.

Don't Mess With Yahweh

"When the Philistines captured the ark of God, they brought it from Ebenezer to Ashdod. Then the Philistines took the ark of God and brought it into the house of Dagon and set it up beside Dagon. And when the people of Asdod rose early the next day, behold, Dagon had fallen face downward on the ground before the ark of the Lord. So they took Dagon and put him back in his place. But when they rose early the next morning, behold, Dagon had fallen face downward on the ground before the ark of the Lord, and the head of Dagon and both his hands were lying cut off on the threshold. Only the trunk of Dagon was left to him. This is why the priests of Dagon and all who enter the house of Dagon do not tread on the threshold of Dagon in Ashdod to this day." --1 Samuel 5:1-5


Hipster snap.

Blog! You've finally arrived

So, I just realized that my last post was the 100th one!!! I think that means I'm serious about this blogging business. I feel like there should be cake or something. :)



Currently, I'm attempting to read four differnt books simultaneously. Not a wise choice, my friends, but I think my lifestyle as a literature major has molded my habits, perhaps forever.

One is a book I found at the flea market for the delightful price of three dollars. Not only was the outside aesthetically nice with a sage green cover and art deco-like design, but the inside pages have that wonderful old musty book smell. If your're a book afficionado like myself you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. Yeah, that smell. And, I really like the way this guy writes. The book, Where the Bong Tree Grows by James Ramsey Ullman, is actually a non-fiction (woot woot non-fiction) compilation of Ullman's journal entries as he travels to the South Pacific.

Ullman has a lot to say on an individual's sense of place. He writes, "...I can only submit that if years of travel have taught me anything, it is that it cannot be said of anywhere--as of Miss Stein's famous rose--simply that a place is a place is a place. It is also what each traveler brings to it in his mind and heart."

He also talks about writing in general:

"I was a writer. Sometimes I have thought, 'God help me, I am a writer.' At other, and I believe sounder, times I have thought, 'Thank God I am a writer.' And I have thought it in both pride and humility, for writing demands greater devotion and bestows richer rewards than most men have ever dreamed of." :)

And words:

"Take words alone. Lagoon is a lovely one. So is atoll. Who of us, in his time, has not conjured vicarious magic out of palm, breadfruit, pandanus, copra, schooner, outrigger, reef, trade wind, Kanaka, beachcomber, pareu, hula? But that is the trouble: we have conjured too often. They have been written, composed, painted, and photographed into a huge encompasing cliche--to the point where one hesitates to use the very phrase South Sea Island without a cough of apology."

Buffy, the Fluffy, Blankenship

Buffy, our fifteen-year old family dog, was put to sleep yesterday at 2:00 pm. She was buried up the hill and under the tall oak tree in our backyard where we threw the table scraps. I think that's appropriate. Buffy loved to eat. :) My parents were hoping that she would just die naturally, but she didn't and things were terrible for her. I even prayed that God would take her peacefully, but for some reason He didn't.

When she was a puppy, I used to get scraed thinking about the day she would die and that day came yesterday. I thought it wouldn't be as horrible as I had always imagined because she was so sick and we knew she would die soon, but it really feels terrible knowing she's gone forever. I think it's about the memories too. She embodied pieces of so so many other things in my life-- Big snows, birthday parties, other cats that came and went, my childhood, one of my best friends that moved away, my brother, my dad, my mom. She was home. And more than anything, her death means that home is changing...without me. That's a selfish thought, but it's true.

Buff, in her better, younger days:

Coraline, a stop-motion film directed by Henry Selick, is delightfully creepy and imaginative. I've watched the movie a total of three times, and for me that's a big deal. I don't watch or read things multiple times unless I really, really like them. The beauty of the design and the storyline captivate me everytime.

Things running through my head on the drive home tonight:

Mindless work is wearing me
down to the marrow and
I'm weary of daily
city sidewalk promenades.

I'm a night fisherman
and you're the invisible shore.
Before my eyes,
silver fish disturb
the dark water with pirouettes
and twirling fins.

But I can't see them.
My pond-like vision's blinded by
muddy foresight.
Algae spreads over my good intentions
like dust on a neglected mantle.



Basically, praying for a new job and for purpose in the daily to-and-fro. I feel a little lost, lately.

New Obsession

1. I can't stop talking about how awesome he is to all of my friends
2. He and I have lunch together three or four times a week
3. He's kind of a rebel and doesn't have the best reputation, but love is blind right?
4. I think he must have cast a spell on me or something because I just can't fight this feeling...ahhh.
5. I like him a lot, but I don't think he has a clue. I really think he's into this girl named Cho. Supposedly she's really good at Quidditch. Whatever.

Surely, he'll realize my undying affection at some point, but until then, I'll nurse my bleeding heart with some butterbeer.




So, yeah, I'm a little obsessed with Harry Potter V. The last book was a bit of a struggle for me, but The Order of the Phoenix is wonderful. I love it despite the fact that it's eating away at my thoughts. I haven't been able to read that much this week, but all I can think about is getting alone with my book.


Oh! And what about that Umbridge broad!? What a b-eeeeeeeee-p.

Just to Clarify

Early disclaimer: I started writing this and it went into a million different directions. I apologize beforehand for the long-windedness and for any rambling. This post was bascially necessary for my own peace of mind. :)

A month or so ago I posted the following line: "There's a common misconception that aligns progressiveness with immorality."

That statement was ALL KINDS of confusing mainly because I provided no clear context for my use of the word "progressiveness." E. Newman and I hashed it out after she read what I wrote and I think it's a worthy enough issue to clarify what I meant and the different things that can be gathered from it.

At the time, I had recently had a conversation with a non-believer who coined a community as "progressive" merely because it was growing away from traditional conservative influences. She would say, or at least I think she would say, that progressiveness is found in a community that supports excercising rights such as abortion and homosexuality. These institutions, in light of my belief in Jesus Christ and the authority of the Bible, are morally wrong. Thus, immoral acts are being aligned with progressive thinking in an unfortunate way.

What I realized after posting that sentence is that it can be easily seen in a different light. Again, I think it boils down to the context in which one uses the word "progressiveness." Coming from a small-town Baptist ministry grounded in a 200-year old tradition, I know the hate and resistance that is often imparted to "progress." Change and new perspectives are often viewed as tools of Satan. The church I last attended tried to accuse the youth ministry of cult behavior because they used candles and low lighting during a presentation. The accusors were clearly aligning change/progress or anything remotely different from a traditional service as "evil" or "immoral." Their attacks on the efforts of the leaders at my church were not grounded in Scipture and were not offered in a spirit of love and healthy fellowship. This type of reaction to "progress" is clearly an injustice to the Gospel. Too often people cling so tightly to tradition and comfort, that they forget to remain relevant to an ever-changing and dare I say "progressive" world. Tradition can be a rich and beautiful thing, but when it's used in a way to hinder the work of the Lord, it becomes rather ugly. Or should I say the way it's being manipulated becomes ugly? The tradition in itself may remain pure, but humans use it to futher their own personal agendas in a disrepectful way. Paul reminds the Corinthians:

For though I am free from all, I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though not being myself under the law) that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (not being outside the law of God but under the law of Christ) that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them in its blessings. - I Corinthians 9:19-23

In reference to progress in the church, I belive change should always be a matter of reaching out to the world around us for the sake of God's kingdom, that is so long as we do not sacrifice the righteousness to which God has called us through Christ.

More generally/secularly speaking, there are also people who might see technology, diveristy, and civil rights as evil institutions. The white power movement would obviously see the "progressive" implementation of integration as a terrible, even immoral thing.

That leads into the next issue which involves the reverse injustice, so to speak. One friend in response to my shady post commented, "the opposite is true...sometimes." I would completely agree. Often times, those who support more "progressive" approaches feel more enlightened or more justified in their convictions opposed to others that choose to remain grounded in traditional thininking. The truth is that if both sides don't hear each other out with spirits of love and understanding, the outcome can be nasty. So, what if somebody likes to sing out of the hymnal whereas another person prefers to sing along to a projector or television screen? That's a matter of preference, not a matter of immorality.

And the issue gets more complicated. What about non-believers that see Christians' adherence to a 1st century text as close-minded?

Anyway. I think this is getting way more complicated than I intended.

That being said, if I were to rephrase my previously confusing statement, I would say that progressiveness, in as much as it remains loyal to Scripture, is usally a good thing, but if someone is less inclined to certain progressive activities, he or she is not necessarily evil.



Please, anyone feel free to call me out on inconsistencies in what I just wrote or things that don't make sense.

That's why we write, I guess...to process all this stuff. And who knew the topic of "progressiveness" could be such a muddy issue?

Oh, and two good words:

reservoir
transparent

Stranger

Dear Blog,

I've neglected you-->insert shame here.

I'm intimidated by your blank screen, the incessant cursor, and the possibility that you might misinterpret what I'm saying. And blog, my friend, I like you, but you're not good at keeping secrets. Somehow the information I share winds up in the weirdest places...like the world wide web. It's the oddest thing. But, alas, here I am spilling my thoughts to you because it's 2:00 am, and I can't sleep.


Alright enough of that nonsense.

Over the Rhine played at the 930 tonight. Incredible. Karin Berquist's voice leaves me wilting and drying on the lonely lines of my past. I like it. When it comes to music, I'm a masochist. The worse it makes me feel, the better. That sounds dreadfully emo.

Songs I like lately:


"Hazy"--Rosi Goslan and William Fitzsimmons
"Two"--Ryan Adams
"Stillness is the Move"--The Dirty Projectors
"L.E.S. Artistes"--Santigold
"Lost Watch"--Seabear
"Vito's Ordination Song"--Sufjan Stevens
"I and Love and You"--The Avett Brothers

I promised.

I served Communion at Sojourn last Sunday. I'm not actually supposed to do that until I'm a member, but a desperate situation opened the door for a wonderful personal experience. I wrote this lengthy draft about my emotions and how enlightening the event was for me, but for some reason the words or my lack of eloquence robbed the occasion of its wonder. This was really the only line of merit from my original attempt:

"I just kept repeating those words, "The body of Christ broken for you...the body of Christ broken for you..." and it didn't get old once and every face was beautiful."



I lost or someone stole my digital camera. Big bummer. I'll have to bring out the old Canon Rebel which probably isn't a bad thing. I'll be forced to think more about the pictures I'm taking so that I don't waste the film.

I think I had one of the most beautiful experiences of my life today. I can't wait to write about all the details, but my brain is spent. More, later. I promise.

There's a common misconception that aligns progressiveness with immorality.

It just struck me that "forever" is a very vague word, at least in our society.

I don't listen enough.

On Friday I leave to visit my family for the weekend. I miss them and these days feel "forever" long. :)

New Obsession

Dustin O'Halloran.

Whoa!!!

I just ran, with the good help and encouragement of a friend, the scenic loop at Cherokee Park which is 2.3 miles long! We only made a few stops for water and walking in between!! Those are some big ass hills! I started running last summer and could only jog the distance of a few light poles at our local water park. This is most definitely a marked improvement.

At one point during a sermon a few weeks ago, the speaker stated something along the lines of how Christianity isn't pessimism or optimism, but realism. I've used that statement more than once in conversations about the gospel lately. I think it's so very true in that it communicates a healthy balance between the daily acts of celebrating grace and repenting of sin.

We have the overwhelming debt of our own transgressions on one hand (pessimism/wrath) and the perfect sacrifice of Christ on the other (optimism/grace). If we dwell too heavily in the weight of our sin, we'll never experience the freedom and joy Christ promises. Jesus spoke, "If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full" (John 15:10-11). I fail to keep his commandments everyday, but joy remains because I am reminded of the price Christ paid for the world on Calvary.

In the same way, if we relentlessly bathe in grace without remorse for actions done against God, we forget about His hatred/judgement against sin and God mentally morphs into this jolly good buddy instead of a mighty, and powerful Lord. I am reminded of Romans 5 and the beginning of Romans 6 where Paul writes:

"Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men. For as by one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's obedience the many will be made righteous. Now the law came in to increase the trespass, but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?"

So yeah. We can't become so lost in the freedom of grace that was poured out on the cross, that we forget the reason for Christ's coming in the first place--our sin. And! We can't live defeated lives because of our inability to embrace that forgivness. (I'm repeating the same things) Anyway. I love it, this reality.

Not to mention, one could also state that despite our feelings, emotional states, pessimisms, optimisims, philosophies, theologies, doubts, and assurances, the truth/reality of Christ and his fulfillment of God's promises through the Cross, remains absolute and unchanging. Goosebumps. Ahhh...

A few other things:

A friend called me odd today, and I didn't know quite how to take that.

Also, I took the above picture in my best friend's back yard a few weeks ago. I think the tree on the right looks like a heart. :)

Things I know...

Cindy--unsweet tea, lemon, one pink, one blue

Pat--unsweet tea, lemon, one pink, one blue, breakfast proper: eggs over medium, white toast, and bacon

Bud--unsweet tea, lemon

Jim or "Mr. Payne/Pain"--unsweet, no lemon, breakfast proper: eggs over easy and bacon (Curiously, both Jim and Pat say they're ordering the "breakfast proper" but order different things)

Dale--sweet tea, no lemon

Tim--iced latte

Earl, Security guard--Diet Pepsi and chocolate chip cookie

Paul, Security guard--Mt. Dew, can

Jayme, musician--Two breakfast clubs, no bacon

Jim, Mr. Whelan--For lunch, a large cup of soup or chili, no bag please and for the late afternoon, a large non-fat latte and an oatmeal raisin cookie

Jenny--the skinny, jenny, cinammony

Judy--half and half tea, lemon

Barbara--Farmhouse salad, Ranch dressing, less lettuce ("Let us have less lettuce please!")

Tirisha, Barbara's friend--Farmhouse salad, Balsamic dressing, less lettuce




Nameless faces whose orders I also remember:



blonde girl--two cups of ice

Woman with two daughters who reference the the third Jonas brother as the "Bonus Jonas"--scone, ice, side of bacon

Man with diabetes that leans on counter--cheddar omlet with bacon and side of bacon, sometimes two sides of bacon

Jan, author--side salad with two dressings, the extra one she gets for free

Cleaning lady that wears a back brace--sweet tea to the rim, lots of lemon

Sweet lady, curly hair--unsweet tea with a pinch of sweet at the top

Young guy with gray hair and glasses: blueberry bagle, no butter or cream cheese

Guy with glasses and weird button-ups: two diet pepsis and usually a breakfast burrito

skinny lady with glasses: For lunch, blueberry bagel, one butter, one grape jelly


hmmm...I think this means I'm learning proper queues at The Queue.

Themeless, but not pointless.

I kept referring to the the 4th of July as Halloween. Ridiculous.


And I like this:

"Jesus does not want us to worry about the future. God knows what we need to live. When He wants us to die, we will die. As as long as He wants us to live, we will live. He will provide us with the food, drink, jobs, housing, with everything that we need to live and glorify Him in this life until He wants us to glorify Him by dying. Worrying and fretting and obsessing about the future, even if it is a psuedo-holy worry that attempts to discern the will of God, will not add one single hour to your life, and it will certainly not add any happiness or holiness either." --Kevin DeYoung, Just Do Something

He's basically just restating Matthew 6:25-34, but the way he says it just kind of slaps you in the face, you know?

I made my first latte at work today! yeeeaaaah.

My two favorite events at the Cafe:

Slicing lemons

and

Lunch.
This one bird keeps eyeing me down when I eat outside. One day I fed him crackers and he hasn't forgotten. He bounces around my table and sometimes perches on the chair beside me. I know it's the same one because he has a hurt foot. Foot? Do birds have feet? What do you call bird feet? Talons? Claws? Feet just sounds weird. I don't know. But, yeah. Our sandwiches are amazing and I have a bird friend that kind of gives me the creeps. Makes for a good combination.

I don't have to work on Friday and I'm estatic. I will most definitely be sleeping in and going for a morning run--two things I have yet to do in almost two weeks. Afternoon runs just aren't the same probably because most of them are without Miss Erin. :(

the new and the old

I can't stop playing these songs:

"If You Would Come Back Home"--William Fitzsimmons
"Devil's Prey"--Olle Nyman
"Summer in the City"--Regina Spektor

They're all three emo and weepy, but oh well...can't help it.

I officially love the book of Joshua in the OT.

Went home for the weekend for a wedding. Our family dog, Buffie, is not so well. She's almost fully deaf and blind, she can't control her bladder, she only has three legs because of a tumor two years ago, she has arthritis, and she's losing all her fur. It's a sad case. My parents know they need to put her down, but she has good days, and then they second guess themselves. I think I was seven or eight when we got her and I distincly remember getting off the school bus and seeing her on the front porch with my mom and brother. I also remember what I was wearing--a troll shirt pulled to the side with a scrunchie and bright blue spandex shorts. Awesome. Buffie is an old dog.

Louisville is losing a bit of its newness, but I still love it.

I went to Waterfront Park for the first time with Miss Erin. It was wonderful.

This ain't no ballet show

The other day I spotted a possum strolling down 2nd street on the sidewalk. You know, just strollin' like he owned the city.

Lately, I like late nights, loud music, lattes, long runs, and dancing. Oh...zeeee dancing.

The tap, turn,
and follow through
spin.
Promanade
while the floor slides
and the dizzy lights
dance across
waves of heat and
beat.

I was beat. Erin and I along with some new friends went contra dancing last night. Couples in thier forties and fifties were outdancing us. Intense. And some of the more dedicated ones have been doing such recreation for over twenty years. Amazing.

It's the first Father's Day that I haven't spent with my dad.

So much, so much, so much.
so much goodness, words don't even make sense.

I got a job (Hooray!) at a cute little cafe downtown and today was initiation round one. I'm officially a barista complete with black apron and tip jar. Cha-ching.

I'm tired and blogging. (Does that make any sense?) Haven't worked hard for the money in awhile, (tutoring is by no means a physcially demanding task) but it felt good. I like to work and feel productive and I don't like being idle or feeling guilty about being idle. So this is a very nice change--a relief, almost.

I've never been more sure of God's hand in my life and more unsure of exactly what that hand has purposed, but I'm okay with that. I trust He knows what He's doing.

Good Things

1. Farmers' Markets and Whole Food Stores
2. The Psalters--these guys put on an intense show
3. Office Re-runs
4. Coke from the bottle
5. Leftovers
6. Big, clear, coffee mugs
7. A Room of One's Own
8. Snail mail


Not-So-Good Things

1. Accidentally sending my dad his Father's Day card a week early
2. Mental second-winds at one in the morning
3. Burnett St.--it's a strange, strange thing
4. the droning sound our dishwasher makes--eeeeeeeeeeee
5. discovering that the Spam folder of your new e-mail account is hiding several employer responses -- How am I supposed to recover from that? "Sorry I just got
back to you ... I couldn't quite figure out my email account, but I promise I have a college
degree."

It's a Lengthy one.

This verse has been an encouragement to me this week:

"'This God--his way is perfect;
the word of the Lord proves true;
he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him'" (II Samuel 22:31).

David is speaking to the Lord in these verses and giving God praise for victory/reconciliation over/with his enemies. If you keep reading, you see that God is the One who gives, trains, makes, delivers, keeps, and brings. David was by no means inactive, weak, or passive, but God is the one who fights and wins the battles.

I've had to remind myself of that everyday this week through the never-ending cycle of looking for jobs, submitting applications, hearing nothing from anyone, and starting all over again. This week has been challenging. But! Praise Jesus, something finally looks promising! To no surprise, all the credit goes to God.

Before we moved, the roomies and I sort of crashed a graduation barbecue with some Louisville friends. While we were there, I introduced myself to the wife of the guy hosting the event. I told her that I felt terrible for eating their food and all that jazz. Kind of awkward. Last Friday, I met up with some friends at a pot-luck and lo-and-behold, the same woman was there. Turns out, her name is Kristin, and she remembered me, which is kind of embarrassing, but it actually turned out really well. We laughed the whole thing off and she introduced me to other people as "the girl who crashed her party." Hilarious. Anyway, later that night, I told her I was jobless and she said she could probably get me a position at the cafe where she works. I was like, "Heck, yes. I'm desperate." So, she pulled a few strings and I have an interview on Monday!! The lady sounded awesome over the phone and I'm very excited just to have a prospect. Seriously, I've had absolutely no call-backs and it feels very ironic that the one thing I didn't apply for is working out. I am completely aware that this only an interview, but that's better than nothing. It gives me hope and reminds me that God is working despite my worry and distress.

Also cool, is the fact that Kristin loves to run. Since we've moved, (Saturday is the official two week marker) Erin and I have been running around Old Louisville. Kristin offered to run with us. Yesterday we all ran a mile and half! I never dreamed I could do that! Running is like a drug to me, seriously. I love it, need, want it. Ahhh.... So good. By the end of the summer, Erin and I hope we can run at least three miles, because in the fall we plan on signing up for a 5k with some pals in BG!! (Man, I'm annoying myself with all the exclamation points I'm using, but I feel like that's the only way to make my extreme excitement clear). Good stuff.

Also, the roomies and I are exercising our Scrabble skills to the max. There's plans for a championship in the works. We mean business.

Today was Brittany's birthday. It was fun to love up on a dear friend. :)

All I can do, day and night, is try to be and understand who God created me to be. And by "try," I don't mean putting forth my own vain effort at life; I simply mean surrendering to Him and making sense of that submission.

Joshua 5:13-15. Whoa.

I was born a rambling...woman

I haven't blogged in over two weeks. It's painful, but I feel like this post has to be extraordinary because it's been so long! Not really, I just feel odd pressure to write something profound. Here goes.

I own a massive bookcase. Really, it's a beast, especially when you live in a second floor apartment, but it's very special to me not only because it houses literature that's close to my heart, but because my dad helped me fix it up when I bought it. We stained and finished new shelves for the inside and painted/fashioned a new board for the missing back. (I love taking tattered things and making them useful and lovely). Anyway, after moving I decided to organize my rather large/ridiculous collection of books in some way that made sense. The top shelf holds some of my favorites and others that I desperately wish to read. Here's some stuff I plan on picking up over the summer, but I know how my plans usually go. I'm probably being a bit ambitious.

debra marquart, the horizontal world: growing up wild in the middle of nowhere
A.W Tozer, The Knowledge of the Holy
Ayn Rand, We the Living
Margaret Atwood, Oryx and Crake
Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre
Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution
Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes
Daphne Du Maurier, Rebecca
Jon Krakauer, Under the Banner of Heaven
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship ( I don't currently own this one)


So, the roomies and I are officially Louisville residents and it feels amazing. I'm very close to my family, the whole big lot of them, and I expected to be having more severe withdrawls, but truly this already feels like home. God prepared my heart. :)

On a darker note, I still need a job in a bad way. I've been applying like crazy, but still no luck. I know this is where I'm supposed to be. God has led me here. I have to remember that He's in control and has a plan. Which reminds me, God provided for me yesterday in the smallest way at a coin laundry shop and I almost cried because it was so awesome the way he used people I didn't even know to lend a hand.

Too tired to think, really, but here's a list:

1. i love the word "marmalade."

2. we got the apartment in Louisville and that means the move is official. That also means that when I get back into town, I have one week to pack, clean and transport all of my junk to a new city. Ahhh. Freak out.

3. I'm scared and emotional.

4. My cousin and his wife took me out for lunch today as a late graduation gift and treated me to fresh sushi. It's only my second time to eat the raw stuff, but I'm absolutely hooked. Soooo good.

5. Still trying to finish Harry Potter IV

6. My brother has a girlfriend. Weird. Today, he talked to her for a good hour and then when they finally ended the conversation, he started texting her. Ridiculous. Ahh...the fruits of young affection.

7. I think that's all.

8. Oh! I graduated! Praise Jesus! And my parents threw me a surprise Graduation Party. Awesome. I felt so blessed and loved this weekend by my beautiful family and friends.

Ode to Seam Rippers and Invisible Zippers:

I hate you.





I spent five and a half hours in the sewing lab today, four of which were filled with the oh-so-original and elegant lyrics/tunes of country music. Doesn't get much better than that.


On a brigher note, I think we decided on a place to live. 1455 S. 2nd. Street, I hope you're ready for a little Bowling Green flavor. :)

And then there was sun...

beautiful, bright, and yellow sun.
And the swell of spring and possibility
made breathing a little easier--
a little lighter
if only for awhile.

I met with the book club a few nights ago and discussed Margaret Atwood's novel The Handmaid's Tale. The "tale" is nothing short of disturbing. In the book, a religious sect establishes a community of fear, entrapment, and hopelessness. The main character, whose name is never mentioned, a fact that strongly reinforces the degradation she has recieved in society, often struggles not only with her environment and unfortunate situation, but also with the danger of her own will. Atwood is also commenting largely on gender roles and political power. I still don't have it all figured out in my head, but I can give the author props for her storytelling. The work is saturated with imagery, symbolism and goregous language. In fact, (this won't give too much away) the women in the book are acutally denied the right to read. Atwood's ability to excercise her impressive vocabulary is ironic in light of the limitations of her characters. Favorite passage:

What I need is perspective. The illusion of depth, created by a frame, the arrangement of shapes on a flat surface. Perspective is necessary. Otherwise there are only two dimensions. Otherwise you live with your face squashed against a wall, everything a huge foreground, of details, close-ups, hairs, the weave of the bedsheet, the molecules of the face. Your skin like a map, a diagram of futility, crisscrossed with tiny roads that lead nowhere. Otherwise you live in the moment. Which is not where I want to be. (143)

I think maybe a balance has to be accomplished between wishing for future perspective and living in the moment. We don't know what God has planned, but to never anticipate or prepare for anything would probably make us all incredibly idle. Or maybe it would make us all incredibly reliant on the Him...'tis a mystery. That's something that's been difficult lately. Lord, what do you want? When we don't know....I guess we just take a leap...

maybe??

Letter to a Friend

Dearest Harry,

I feel the urgent need to extend my deepest condolences for shamefully neglecting you. With graduation and a move on the horizon, the past few months have felt rather like a blur. Not to mention, I've been preoccupied with, shall I say, more scholarly endeavors. You know, papers, tests, and the like. Your adventures at Hogwarts and the Quidditch World Cup took a prolonged back-burner position in my life, and for that I am...terribly...sorry. I do hope you will accept my apology. I promise to resume reading with relentless fervor.

Yours truly,
Lacey

P.S. I do hope Draco Malfoy grows a sense of humor, poor chap!

Thing I hate most about running: Wedgies!

Mere mortal ponderings

Just finished Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking. The material is absolutely heart-breaking. The non-fiction piece investigates the year following the sudden death of her husband, John. Much of the book consists of Didion working things out in her own head. The reader comes to face to face with a very personal grief process. Although the book is focused solely on death, mourning, and how individuals deal with both, her writing is beautiful throughout. The following is perhaps the most poignant and tragic section of exposition in the whole text:

Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. We anticipate (we know) that someone close to us could die, but we do not look beyond the few days or weeks that immediately follow such an imagined death. We misconstrue the nature of even those few days or weeks. We might expect if the death is sudden to feel shock. We do not expect this shock to be obliterative, dislocating to both body and mind. We might expect that we will be prostrate, inconsolable, crazy with loss. We do not expect to be literally crazy, cool customers who believe that their husband is about to return and need his shoes....Nor can we know ahead of the fact (and here lies the heart of the difference between grief as we imagine it and grief as it is) the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaningless itself. (189)

After reading passages such as this, I have no choice but to cling to I Thessalonians 4:13: "But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep."

I don't think our grief is diminished as Christians, but in the midst of loss we're reminded that God has promised eternal salvation and glory for those who love Him. We're more than friends, siblings, daughters, sons, husbands and wives; we're children of the living God. Our hope is in His promises. This world is passing away and so are our fragile bodies. Despite knowing these things and perhaps repeating them for comfort in times of tribulation, we will still encounter pain, loss, the death of loved ones, and eventually our own peronsal unravelings. We are in fact incredibly and undeniably, human. Even C.S. Lewis after the loss of his wife makes it very clear, that as followers of Christ, death can shake our faith tremendously and make us question the very foundations of the world.

Didion mentions Lewis at least twice in her work...

I'm currently in love with the first chapter of Colossians, particularly 1:15-20.

mondays and migraines.

Most of the time moving seems like a great idea, the only idea, really. I can't stay here. But at times, I think about the moments when the new of everything will wear away. I know it's going to hurt...bad. I know I'll cry...a lot. But, this is what I have to do. I love my family, so much. I can't even mention boxes to my mom without her getting teary-eyed. I don't want to hurt them and I don't think they understand. It's not about them. If I could, I'd pack them up and take them with me. :) Maybe. That might be a little weird. Anyway. I will miss them and all of the others that are so dear. God give me strength.

I feel like there's so much to blog about, but I think my really long blogs are annoying. so, i'm trying to keep it short.

Bought a book on gnomes:

Songs on repeat in my head:

Sufjan Stevens: "Casimir Pulaski Day"

"...In the morning through the window shade

When the light pressed up against your shoulder blade

I could see what you were reading...

"Oh the glory when he took our place

But he took my shoulders and he shook my face

And he takes and he takes and he takes."

And i woke up singing the words to "Chicago" in my head this morning. It could be because I looked up apartments in Chicago yesterday. What if I moved there? Big change that would be.

Benjamin Gibbard: "You Remind Me of Home"

"Exploration" from the Coraline soundtrack

Cocteau Twins: "Ivo"

Fleet Foxes: "Innocent Son"

Inoj: "Love You Down" (This song is olllllldddd)

Mark Kozelek: "You Ain't Got a Hold On Me"

Lately....I'm happy, but there's an undercurrent of hesitation. Something whispers, "Shhh....don't get so excited. Things could crumble...things are crumbling and you just don't know it yet."

snippets

Let's just say that my relationship with Fleet Foxes was not one of "love at first listen." My appreciation of their work took some time. Last night I purchased their EP album Sun Giant, and it is...beautiful.

Two days ago the appliance man came to our apartment and produced one single bra underwire from the belly of our ailing washing machine. That's not embarrassing at all.

We started cutting out the patterns for our dresses yesterday. I purchased a pretty periwinkle fabric. Oh, and I had this brilliant idea. So you know how we have the "understood you" in the English language? Example: Go to the store or take me to the game! In both cases the subject of the sentence is an implied "you." So the sentences could be constructed like so: You go to the store or you take me to the game! What if we had the "understood I?" It's used all the time! You encounter it abundantly in creative works because sometimes it makes sentences more lyrical and succint, although they're not technically sentences and I personally use it all the time as well. Watch and see how this works (that was just a use of the "understood you").

Took the dog to the vet today. She was not happy about it and neither was I.

or

Visited Hancock's last week to decide on the fabric for my final project. Man, I am so indecisive.

Neither of the first sentences technically has a subject. I think the concept also lends itself to a more conversational tone. Just an idea.

Had a dream last night that I was in a thrift store and kept finding all this money in old purses and I couldn't decide if I should keep it or return it to the store. An overly-guilty conscience haunts my existence.

Accidentally come across this poster online and loved it:

the clear blue waters of our youth trickle down into the dry earth.

hello photo :)

oh, dang...you know what's coming. yeeeaaahhhhh...
























1&2: I think these two pictures could possibly be a part of series on women's rights. I walked into my sewing class the other day and the room was completely empty and dark except for one machine in a corner. It was suprisingly scary in that room in that moment. I think the pictures have a haunting/ghostly tone. I see the potential for a story.

3: Good Friday. Burton and the wonderful green glow on the inside with the nice complimentary splash of the red carpet. Erin doesn't like this picture, but I think she's beautiful.

4: Amanda and I made some amazing cake Friday night at her house.

5: My old home's back yard on Easter morning.

6: Sleepyheads during the normal service after breakfast and the early service. I told the pastor he was going to have to make that sermon a little more engaging next time. I was joking, of course.

7-10: Egg hunt!

11: nap with the nana bear

After

the early morning wake-up calls
the hilltop sunrise service
the oversized breakfast with blueberry scones, hashbrown casserole, and scambled eggs
the sea of pastel people in their Sunday bests leaving solemn pews
the hunt, the frenzied scramble
the sum of snapshots and silly poses
the sleepy, sunny hum of a drive home

We finally kicked off our shoes, dresses and slacks for more comfortable
attire and napped into the late afternoon. :)